Audition: Fulgens and Lucres, Poculi Ludique Societas (PLS)

Contact: Kimberley Radmacher, Producer (

This November, PLS ( will kick off its 50-year anniversary with a full-scale semi-pro production of Henry Medwall’s Fulgens and Lucres. It’s like Shakespeare, but rawer, rougher, zanier… and written 100 years earlier.

***We will conduct our first round of auditions ONLINE, BY DROPBOX VIDEO SUBMISSION.***

Rehearsals begin September 15
Non-Union (Actors will receive a $200 honorarium*)
Show Runs: November 7-15 (two weekends only)
Where: West Hall (U of T campus)
Director: Matthew Milo Sergi
Producer: Kimberley Radmacher

5 physical actors needed, any age/type


  • As far as possible, we will conduct our first round of auditions online, via video submission–please use DROPBOX ( or similar file sharing protocol. Contact us if you have any questions
  • Call-backs will be arranged on a case-by-case basis, depending on availability.
  • Send a 3-minute video of yourself performing a highly physicalized, playful, not-too-literal interpretation of any early English text (written before 1649—Shakespeare is fine).  Choose any text you want, or use some of the sample below.
  • Along with your video audition, be sure to attach your headshot, resume, and your availability/conflicts between Sep 15 and Nov 15.
  • Show us how much new fun you can have with something old.  You can do whatever you wish with your three minutes: especially if you have circus, acro, clown, mime, stage combat,, or any other exciting dance/movement/stupid human tricks, be sure to work it in.
  • Deadline to submit is August 25.

PLS (Poculi Ludique Societas) is a non-profit, non-Equity theatre company affiliated with the University of Toronto, dedicated to the production of early plays for research and entertainment.  All actors will receive a $200 honorarium for their work.  All roles are available to all genders, ages, and types.

Just like the original producers did in the 1490s, we will mount our production of FULGENS AND LUCRES for feast-goers in a grand dining hall (using West Hall, and possibly one other location, on the University of Toronto campus).  The opening performance will be a gala banquet.

The production process will start with Viewpoints-based devising, combined with a playful approach to early text.  There isn’t even the idea of a fourth wall in F&L (it hasn’t been invented yet) — only a feast and a party: what results is an unrestrained, persistently asymmetrical, and anti-generic comedy, one that looks an awful lot like present-day comic experiments in theatrical form.


In some beautiful opening poetry, we meet a Roman senator (Fulgens) who has a beautiful unmarried daughter (Lucres).  Two suitors compete for Lucres’s hand—one, a privileged braggart from a noble family (Cornelius); the other, a low-born soldier (Gaius).  But almost immediately after that story begins, things get ridiculous.  Each of those three lovers has a servant.  These three servants (Joan, “A,” and “B”), playfully pursuing a love triangle of their own while trying half-heartedly to help their masters find love, create mayhem that invades and eventually crowds out the romantic story.  In a series of competitive spectacles, they dance, sing, flirt, play tricks, fight a fart-prick-ass joust (you’ll see), do a good deal of audience participation (the good kind), and make a statement about class and privilege that is still powerfully relevant today.


How much pays he, do you suppose—
For the making of one pair of his hose?
Twenty shillings!  Twenty times told,
Per pair.  Not made with silk or gold,
By Jeezy, nay, twenty shillings
For plain bare cloth and plain lining!
Nay, what he pays for is the cut—
A new style of fashion nowaday—
Men over-charged like rams in rut,
Each must be striped, and very tight,
High-priced, small strips of red and white.
In front, a codpiece—almost this large—
And in his codpiece rests the largest charge.
And all his robes!  So he can change
Among them, they are stacked so high
And all the fashions new and strange—
Not one reaches lower than his mid-thigh.
And yet, how much raw cloth he’ll buy!
How many yards per robe, do you guess?
Two?  Or three?  Marry, I do not lie—
He uses seven and no less.
It is as true as you stand there.
And I shall tell the reason why:
All men who doth that fashion wear,
Their robes have wings.  Ready to fly!
And sleeves that could cover their whole body,
And forty pleats, of just this kind,
In front.  And forty more behind.
And all is done for Lucres’s sake.
To wed her, he doth this reckoning make.