The rehearsals went well apart from the scene where I had to stand upstage with Nigel as he declaimed that it was his castle and he wasn't coming down.
During this speech, I was required to gently weep. Not only did I have to weep, but my tears were to be tenderly touched by his Kingship and talked about for ten lines or so. The heat was on. Time after time, I stood there trying to squeeze something, anything, out of my eyes, but nothing came. We were to have a run in London before going up to Edinburgh and the first night was fast approaching. Still nothing. I would stare at the King, trying to think of how awful it must be for him to lose his throne and all that, but try as I might, I just saw Nigel giving it large. Something had to be done. Someone had told me about this menthol stuff that you rubbed on sore muscles called Tiger Balm and how it was brilliant for producing tears in the eyes.