A Farewell To, and From, the Hill stage

When the Hill season closed on October 2nd, it marked a bittersweet goodbye to our stage. But it turns out the Hill had a goodbye of its own (written by Jim DeVita and delivered by members of APT's Core Company).

(The Core Company gathers on stage.)

Over the last 22 years this stage
Has seen its share of laughter and of tears.

Right about here . . . Julius Caesar met his sharp fate;
And over here . . . three Romeos fell in love;
Petruchio tried, here, to woo his Kate;
Up there, three Juliets 'wherefored' from above.

Beatrice and Benedick -- down there -- love discovered;
Here Rosalind loved; there Silvius pined;
Here, in Midsummer, everyone loved each other;
Here Malvolio, for love, was greatly maligned.

There we watched the merry wives make merry;
Viola hallooed, 'Olivia!'over here;
Here Falstaff fantasized and drank his sherry;
There Ophelia was carried off on a bier.

Cleopatra perished there; and here died old Lear;
The Scottish King fell there -- and his wife, over here;
Hamlet died up there; and here, Gertrude, the Queen;
The rest of that cast died - well, somewhere in between.

Desdemona, Mercutio, Richard the Third,
On this stage, right here . . . their last breaths we heard.
Ophelia, Cordelia - here their last words were spoken,
And Juliet's - god, Juliet's - as we listened, hearts broken.

But we'll see them again, for stories never die;
Not so with our stage, whom we bid fond goodbye.

For twenty-two years these boards served us well;
Cradling stories we love, which we tell and retell.

Plays played on this stage? One hundred and ten,
From Moliere to Molnar to Sheridan,
Chekhov and Wycherley, Ibsen, Racine,
Stoppard and Sophocles, and Jean Anouilh,
Edmond Rostand and dear Oscar Wilde,
We've wept at O'Neill - and at Coward, we've smiled;
Shakespeare, and Shaw and Tennessee Williams -
Total attendance - it's, well - it's in the millions.

Two million and twenty-five thousand - thereabouts.

Over two thousand performances -

Plus thirty-six damn rainouts.

For a life well lived, our dear stage, we thank you.
You've had a great run. Now it's time for adieu.

We honor your years with praise and ovations,
And look so very forward to your next generation.

(Actors applaud the stage as David Daniel prepares to read a letter.)

Thank you. Thank you. One more thing we've been asked to do. I'm very excited to announce that we have received a letter from someone very important, and very dear to us -- whom I believe all of you know. I've been asked to read it, as this person is not able to speak tonight. And it's, um . . . well, actually . . . it's a letter to you -- the audience -- it is a goodbye to you. Written by . . . The Stage:

(Takes out the letter.)

Dear Audience:

Farewell, my friends, for I am soon to go.
It is fated to be this evening, I believe;
And still my soul, these boards, my home,
So heavy with tales untold . . .

And yet, I must go.

Never again my dazzled eyes,
For which you were a thrilling feast,
Never again shall they drink in your sight,
Your sounds, your every gesture. I can still see
The familiar way you have of leaning in
And listening; I still hear your laughter,
Your weeping, your applause -- and my heart
Cries out, "Farewell, my friends, farewell!"

And yet, do but look up at the stars . . .
The quiet heavens hung above our wooden 'O' . . .
What words? . . . What words? . . .

So feeble feels 'Farewell.'

My dearest jewel, my love, my life,
My audience . . .
Are you beginning to understand?
Does some little part of me make itself
Felt of you, out there, in the darkness?

I will never leave here for a moment;
I am, and have been, and will be --
As will we all --
A part of that which has always been:
This wonderful woods of words,
This magical hill set in a sylvan sea,
This earth, these stars, these trees, this APT.

Farewell, my friends, farewell!

With much fondness and gratitude,
Your stage.