At The Ford, in fair L.A., one recent night,
Six players wrought a show to wild delight.
In Elizabethan couplet, sharp and true,
They spun a play from one small, shouted cue.
Such is the magic, rare for all to see,
Of The Improvised Shakespeare Company.
Founded in aught-five, they roam far and near,
Oft gracing Largo’s stage to crowd’s loud cheer.
(Sir Patrick Stewart once did join their game;
I saw it, aye, and can attest the same.)
Yet Ford, that jewel-box Bowl of leafy frame,
Did lift their craft to heights of nobler fame.
With twelve hundred seats—moon, trees and uplights green,
As though wood-nymphs designed the sylvan scene,
It stands among the finest spots in town—
My first time there, and worthy of renown.
Blaine Swen, troupe founder, the Duke of Verona played;
A wit with Ph.D., in verses well-arrayed.
Alongside him, Ross Bryant’s rhymes took flight,
Turning “Shark Tank” to scenes in Shakespeare’s light.
Joey Bland, Randall Harr, Brendan Dowling, too,
Did craft a world from that single audience cue.
That cue? “Red stockings,” called out too fast—
A peril for some, yet they made it last.
From such slight cloth they cut a comic feast:
Sour-milk-drinking Paduans, automatons released,
Lusty asides, courtesan jests that zing,
And “Pewter Peter,” a most mechanical thing.
Lo-Jason Alexander, guest star ever-spry,
Appeared as “Truncle Dimple,” to steal the eye.
It all seems impossible—these wits, so bright—
Yet certain tropes they wield to shape the night:
From courtship to bloodshed, bawdy joy between,
A song-and-dance to crown the comic scene.
They binge the Bard, scan word lists odd and old,
Till nimble tongues spew iambs of gold.
Though never penned, the structure swiftly grew:
A wedding, fights and callbacks — Peter, too.
Mistakes embraced, names mangled mid-debate,
Yet every jest recalled, however late.
Two hours fled like minutes—how nights do fly
When minds so quick let no fair moment die.
In this bot age, their art stands human-pure:
They weave, recall and spin with skill secure.
So if they grace your town, make haste to see,
The marvels of this mirthful Company.