By Tony Harrison. Adapted from Victor Hugo’s Le Roi s’amuse. Directed by C. W. Marshall. A United Players production. At the Jericho Arts Centre on Friday, March 29. Continues until April 21

I thought they would never shut up.

The Prince’s Play is English playwright Tony Harrison’s verse adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Le Roi s’amuse, which also inspired the libretto for Giuseppe Verdi’s opera Rigoletto. In Harrison’s version, the hunchback is a music-hall comedian named Scotty Scott who has become a court jester to the Prince of Wales. We’re in Victorian England, so that prince will become Edward VII, forebear to the current queen. And H.R.H. is a nasty piece of work who feels it’s his royal prerogative to rape whomever he pleases, including, potentially, Scotty Scott’s 16-year-old daughter, Becky.

The text is verbose. Scenes that, in a more merciful world, would take five minutes take 15—and it’s all in rhyming couplets. Too often, those couplets are juvenile. Consider this, for example: “Poor cripples have their bad days. This is one/But never forget the days when we had fun.” That’s the literary equivalent of packing material. (And, yes, I do know that in 1992 Harrison, who has a considerable rep in England, won the Whitbread Award for poetry.)

Granted, Harrison’s verse might sound better in a different production. But too many of the actors in this mostly amateur cast hit the rhythms like they’re beating rugs. And under C.W. Marshall’s direction, too many performers are too loud for too long.

For my money, John Prowse, who plays a professional murderer, delivers the strongest characterization of the evening. He makes the verse conversational. His delivery is offhand; his tone and volume are varied. Helen Martin, who plays the assassin’s sister, matches Prowse nicely. And Stephanie Dyck finds some emotional resonance in the impossibly virginal Becky.

James Gill pours emotion into Scotty Scott; I appreciate the courage that it takes to do that. Still, Gill is a member of the loud-and-thumping camp, as are Sean Allan and Shannon Christopher Wright, who play courtiers and whose performances are as phony as three-dollar bills. Edward Foy’s Prince has some authentic moments, but he, too, thumps loudly.

In Act 2, there are moments of dramatic tension. They don’t last long.