I came across…

The Lady’s Not for Burning (by Christopher Fry) this morning during another aimless net browse. Delightful play. I spent all day reading it. Here’s just a couple of fragments from near the beginning:

NICHOLAS:
I must tell you,
I’ve just been reborn.

MARGARET:
Nicholas, you always think
You can do things better than your mother. You can be sure
You were born quite adequately on the first occasion.

and

ALIZON:
Are you his brother?

RICHARD:
No. All I can claim as my flesh and blood
Is what I stand up in. I wasn’t born,
I was come-across. In the dusk of one Septuagesima,
A priest found an infant, about ten inches long,
Crammed into the poor-box. The money had all
Been taken. Nothing was there except myself,
I was the baby as it turned out. The priest,
Thinking I might have eaten the money, held me
Upside down and shook me, which encouraged me
To live, I suppose, and I lived.

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