No. 556: The winners Trevor Grove reports: Virginia Fair- weather,
Sir Laurence Olivier's former press secretary, recently stunned the reading world with her amazing non-revelations in her book Cry God for Larry. Competitors were invited to submit extracts from a similar document, recently discovered—Cry God for Will, Ben or one concerned with any other dramatic personage from the past. I enjoyed E. 0. Parrott's Euripides reminiscences: . . .One incident I remember clearly illus- trates his supreme control as a producer. A chorus member, during an antiphon, slipped on an olive and fell. This accident ruined the flow of the tragic lyric but Eury was calmness itself. 'Get up and we'll carry on', he said. It was the remark of a genius, un- willing to allow accidents to interfere with the great business in hand.
Meanwhile, in more revealing vein, Maurice Hall, who wins four guineas: From Cry God for Sherry: There was of course a great deal of chatter about him and Miss Linley—'Maid of Bath' if you please —and the two duels supposedly fought over her. And the elbows going and the know- ing winks at the sound of The Rivals.
But there was little revelry there; I can tell you. For did he not promise to im- materialise me with my own words? But I chose to remain synonymous, confident that my true identity would someday be reviled when a decerning historian• came to com- pose his biology.
N. J. Rock chose Shakespeare; four well- earned guineas go to him for his pains: Prinking my new casement, I gave Goode'en to the young Poet, Will, married a se'nnight with neighbour Ann. I had seen them fro- licking by moonlight some three months ago on Wilmcote Common. I had discovered some Verses of his nailed to a Tree in Shot- tery Wood. They imported none. I shredded them to the Winde.
I conceived it my sad Duty to warn Will that Tongues were wagging at Hampton Lucy. He sayed, I should know. He sayed, even mine would not reach to London, but what he thereby intended, I know not. 'Me- thinks it will be harder to pin Verses on Saint Paul's than on Oaks' quoth I. He remarcked that he was not a Violater but a Looker-on.
And leading the same herd, Tim O'Dowda, who emerges as this week's victor ludorum and wins a five guinea prize:
Hearing him say that of all his Characteres, it was Viola he lov'd best, I visyted his lodgings in the attire she wore at Orsino's Court. There he wolde fondle the fullnesse of my Buttockes with one hande, whyle, being much labour'd, scratching away with his Quille with the othere. One day, tiryng of thys tepiditie, I thoghte to provoke hym to a sha7per Pricke of Passioun by baring the softe Parnassus of my breast. Whereat, he, lookyng up, cried: By Lucifer, th'art a woman' and pitch'd me thru' the Lattyce. Naught abash'd, I . „ ,
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