This excerpt is a fragment of a theatrical performance of Charles Dickens' unfinished novel The Mystery of Edwin Drood, presented as a musical‑style staged reading titled “Thursday Night (Bazzard)”. Two primary speakers (A and B) alternate delivering narrative, accusation, and lyrical passages. Speaker A adopts a confessional, gender‑disguised narrator who claims to have witnessed John Jasper’s crimes, invokes religious pleas, and repeats poetic lines about disguise, shame, and redemption. Speaker B plays a courtroom‑like interrogator, questioning Jasper’s guilt, recounting a chaotic Christmas‑Eve scene, and delivering absurd, meta‑theatrical commentary (e.g., “I can’t remember my lines”). The text blends plot‑driven elements (Jasper’s alleged murder of Edwin Drood, the discovery of a glass, the crypt burial) with self‑referential theatrical devices (repeated lines, broken fourth wall, musical interludes). The overall purpose is to dramatize the mystery, explore themes of gender disguise, guilt, and redemption, while also highlighting the performative, improvisational nature of the production.
Chapters
It's all to ably disguise my most feminine sides when I take an inquiring stroll. Where strangers will chat with a chap and reveal this in that in a snap. I'm remarkably leery of women who query too much, it's a great handicap. Saw this disguise, saw me through it, playing the part of a man. Really there's nothing much to it, most any animal can. Out on the limerick, out on the limerick, out on the limerick air. I found the theatrical kit, and the statuary, I did my bit. So to clear Neville's name, I confessed to my shame. 'Twas for vengeance as well, I admit. I followed on Jasper Hendo, from the dens he descends to below. And when Potter came here, 'twas immediately clear, my suspicions were quite apropos. So I crept in the lodgings of Jasper, trust him as God, but as such. There I found Rosalind's glass. Poor mother, she gave to that villain. Jasper took it from Ned after hurling him dead with The wife of a man, I suppose. Helen and Datchery knows, and the proof is quite clear. Let us bring Jasper here to be tried in the trial of the soul. And from this limerick, let him be hung.
Dursleys, let me understand.
Are you saying that John Jasper did not kill his nephew?
Exactly, your lordship, sir. It was a wild night that Christmas Eve, as you'll remember, squire, and I sought shelter near Mr. Jasper's door. I saw one amongst you twerkle, Edwin Drood, and in the convenient flash of lightning, I saw who it was. That was quite a long speech, Bill. Do you think I could have a quick nip of port? Don't alter! Suddenly I see Jasper stagger out of his own home under the influence perfect medicine when he suddenly collapses. And then he gets up and he picks up young Edwin Drew, carries him into the cathedral, down into the crypt, depositing the body right in Miss Sapsy's tomb. What? See, I told you there was plenty of room in there. But Dazzles, you must tell us, who killed Edwin Drew? It was Basil! Yeah! The detectives in command must have a case in hand to gain acclaim. Their share of fame the public does demand. A controversial crime reverse, shall I go on to tell you more? Since I have the floor, your Neville had been clued and Edwin doubly rude. So I set out to bring about the death of Edwin Drew, and it turned out to be this region's hotly argued rage. And I know all, I now show all. At last I'm center stage. And I tied the knot around his nice neck, and his head was struck nearby. I thought as he fell down into the mud that finally the luck have I. That finally the luck have I. Once again, let us vote for our Mayor Lover, Deputy. Yes, you like this one. Very good. The Reverend Mr. The Reverend Mr. Chris Sparkle will be our minister. And that's your choice. And unfortunately, we are stuck with it, I fear. And so, Mr. Purcell, a gentle reprise, if you will. I feel a love song coming on. It looks like this thing's made.
Oh Father, help the poor sinner who needs to repent. I need the ministrations of a God-fearing man. I prostrate myself and offer my humble supplication. Bless you, bless you all.
With you as my fatted calf, my magnificent sacrifice, I shall arise to the firmament.
Once we were perfect strangers. How strangely met are we.
