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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays of Near & Far, by Lord Dunsany
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Plays of Near & Far
+
+Author: Lord Dunsany
+
+Release Date: September 27, 2006 [EBook #19393]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS OF NEAR & FAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+Plays of Near & Far
+
+_By_
+
+LORD DUNSANY
+
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+London & New York
+
+MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN
+
+_First printed December, 1922_
+
+_Limited Edition: Five Hundred Copies only_
+
+
+_Printed by the_
+BOTOLPH PRINTING WORKS
+GATE ST., KINGSWAY, W.C.2
+
+
+
+
+_By_ LORD DUNSANY
+
+THE GODS OF PEGANA
+TIME AND THE GODS
+THE SWORD OF WELLERAN
+A DREAMER'S TALES
+THE BOOK OF WONDER
+FIVE PLAYS
+FIFTY-ONE TALES
+TALES OF WONDER
+PLAYS OF GODS AND MEN
+TALES OF WAR
+UNHAPPY FAR-OFF THINGS
+TALES OF THREE HEMISPHERES
+IF
+THE CHRONICLES OF RODRIGUEZ
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Believing plays to be solely for the stage, I have never before allowed
+any of mine to be printed until they had first faced from a stage the
+judgment of an audience, to see if they were entitled to be called plays
+at all. A successful production also has been sometimes a moral support
+to me when some critic has said, as for instance of "A Night at an Inn,"
+that though it reads passably it could never act.
+
+But in this book I have made an exception to this good rule (as it seems
+to me), and that exception is "The Flight of the Queen." I know too
+little of managers and theatres to know what to do with it, and have a
+feeling that it will be long before it is ever acted, and am too fond of
+this play to leave it in obscurity. This beautiful story has been lying
+about the world for countless centuries, without ever having been
+dramatized. It is the story of a royal court, which I have merely
+adapted to the stage. The date that I have given is accurate; it
+happened in June; and happens every June; perhaps in some corner of the
+reader's garden. It is the story of the bees.
+
+As for "The Compromise of the King of the Golden Isles," it is just the
+sort of play through which those that hunt for allegories might hunt
+merrily, unless I mention that there are no allegories in any of my
+plays.
+
+An allegory I take to be a dig at something local and limited, such as
+politics, while outwardly appearing to tell of things on some higher
+plane. But, far from being the _chef d'oeuvre_ of some ponderously
+profound thinker, I look on the allegory, if I have rightly defined it,
+as being the one form of art that is narrowly limited in its application
+to life. When the man whose cause it championed has been elected
+alderman, when the esplanade has been widened, or the town better
+lighted or drained, the allegory's work must necessarily be over; but
+the truth of all other works of art is manifold and should be eternal.
+
+Though there is no such land as the Golden Isles and was never any such
+king as Hamaran, yet all that we write with sincerity is true, for we
+can reflect nothing that we have not seen, and this we interpret with
+our idiosyncracies when we attempt any form of art.
+
+I set some store by the way in which the three lines about Zarabardes
+are recited, though it is hard to explain in writing a matter of rhythm.
+But the heartlessness of it can be indicated by a clear pronunciation of
+the syllables, as though the people that utter these words had long been
+drilled in a formula.
+
+The third play, "Cheezo," tells of one of those rare occasions when it
+is permissible for an artist, and may be a duty, to leave his wider art
+in order to attack a definite evil. And the invention of "great new
+foods" is often a huge evil.
+
+"Cheezo" is a play of Right and Wrong, and Wrong triumphs. Were not this
+particular Wrong triumphing at this particular date I should not have
+thought it a duty to attack it, and were it easily defeated it would not
+have been worth attacking.
+
+I have seen it acted with a Stage Curate, rather weak and a little
+comic; obviously such a man could be no match for Sladder. Hippanthigh
+should be of stronger stuff than that: he is defeated because that
+particular evil is, as I have said, defeating its enemies at present.
+Nor could there be any drama in a contest between the brutal Sladder and
+a Stage Curate; for the spark that we call humour, by whose light we see
+much of life, comes as it were of two flints, and not of a flint and
+cheese.
+
+The three little plays that follow I will leave to speak for themselves,
+as ultimately all plays have to do.
+
+                                                               DUNSANY
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                  PAGE
+
+THE COMPROMISE OF THE KING OF THE GOLDEN ISLES       1
+THE FLIGHT OF THE QUEEN                             21
+CHEEZO                                              65
+A GOOD BARGAIN                                     103
+IF SHAKESPEARE LIVED TO-DAY                        117
+FAME AND THE POET                                  135
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPROMISE OF THE KING OF THE GOLDEN ISLES
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+THE KING OF THE GOLDEN ISLES: KING HAMARAN.
+THE KING'S POLITICIAN.
+THE AMBASSADOR OF THE EMPEROR.
+THE EMPEROR'S SEEKER.
+TWO PRIESTS OF THE ORDER OF THE SUN.
+THE KING'S QUESTIONERS.
+THE AMBASSADOR'S NUBIAN.
+THE HERALD OF THE AMBASSADOR.
+THE EMPEROR'S DWARF.
+THE DEPUTY CUP-BEARER.
+THE KING'S DOOM-BEARER.
+
+
+
+THE KING'S POLITICIAN: A man has fled from the Emperor, and has taken
+refuge in your Majesty's Court in that part of it called holy.
+
+THE KING: We must give him up to the Emperor.
+
+POLITICIAN: To-day a spearsman came running from Eng-Bathai seeking the
+man who fled. He carries the barbed spear of one of the Emperor's
+seekers.
+
+KING: We must give him up.
+
+POLITICIAN: Moreover he has an edict from the Emperor demanding that the
+head of the man who fled be sent back to Eng-Bathai.
+
+KING: Let it be sent.
+
+POLITICIAN: Yet your Majesty is no vassal of the Emperor, who dwells at
+Eng-Bathai.
+
+KING: We may not disobey the Imperial edict.
+
+POLITICIAN: Yet----
+
+KING: None hath dared to do it.
+
+POLITICIAN: It is so long since any dared to do it that the Emperor
+mocks at kings. If your Majesty disobeyed him the Emperor would
+tremble.
+
+KING: Ah.
+
+POLITICIAN: The Emperor would say, "There is a great king. He defies
+me." And he would tremble strangely.
+
+KING: Yet--if----
+
+POLITICIAN: The Emperor would fear you.
+
+KING: I would fain be a great king--yet----
+
+POLITICIAN: You would win honour in his eyes.
+
+KING: Yet is the Emperor terrible in his wrath. He was terrible in his
+wrath in the olden time.
+
+POLITICIAN: The Emperor is old.
+
+KING: This is a great affront that he places upon a king, to demand a
+man who has come to sanctuary in that part of my Court called holy.
+
+POLITICIAN: It is a great affront.
+
+[_Enter the_ SEEKER. _He abases himself._
+
+SEEKER: O King, I have come with my spear, seeking for one that fled the
+Emperor and has found sanctuary in your Court in that part called holy.
+
+KING: It has not been the wont of the kings of my line to turn men from
+our sanctuary.
+
+SEEKER: It is the Emperor's will.
+
+KING: It is not _my_ will.
+
+SEEKER: Behold the Emperor's edict.
+
+[_The_ KING _takes it. The_ SEEKER _goes towards the door._
+
+SEEKER: I go to sit with my spear by the door of the place called holy.
+
+[_Exit_ SEEKER.
+
+KING: The edict, the edict. We must obey the edict.
+
+POLITICIAN: The Emperor is old.
+
+KING: True, we will defy him.
+
+POLITICIAN: He will do nothing.
+
+KING: And yet the edict.
+
+POLITICIAN: It is of no importance.
+
+KING: Hark. I will not disobey the Emperor. Yet will I not permit him to
+abuse the sanctuary of my Court. We will banish the man who fled from
+Eng-Bathai. [_To his_ DOOM-BEARER.] Hither, the Doom-Bearer; take the
+black ivory spear, the wand of banishment, that lies on the left of my
+throne, and point it at the man that shelters in the holy place of my
+Court. Then show him the privy door behind the horns of the altar, so
+that he go safely hence and meet not the Emperor's seeker.
+
+[_The_ DOOM-BEARER _bows and takes the spear on the flat of both his
+hands. The shaft is all black, but the head is of white ivory. It is
+blunt and clearly ceremonial. Exit._]
+
+[_To_ POLITICIAN.
+
+Thus we shall be safe from the wrath of the Emperor, and the holy place
+of my Court will not be violate.
+
+POLITICIAN: Had your Majesty scorned the Emperor it were better. He is
+old and durst not take vengeance.
+
+KING: I have decided, and the man is banished.
+
+[_A_ HERALD _marches in and blows his trumpet._
+
+HERALD: The Ambassador of the Emperor.
+
+[_Enter the_ AMBASSADOR. _He bows to the King from his place near the
+door._
+
+KING: For what purpose to my Court from Eng-Bathai comes thus the
+Ambassador of the Emperor?
+
+AMBASSADOR: I bring to the King's Majesty a gift from the great Emperor,
+[AMBASSADOR _and his men bow_] who reigns in Eng-Bathai, the reward of
+obedience to his edict, a goblet of inestimable wine.
+
+[_He signs and there enters a page bearing a goblet of glass. He has a
+pretty complexion and yellow hair falling as low as his chin and curling
+inwards. He wears a cerise belt round his tunic exactly matching the
+wine in the goblet he carries._
+
+He prays you drink it, and to know that it was made by vintners whose
+skill is lost, and stored in secret cellars over a hundred years; and
+that the vineyards whence it came have been long since whelmed by war,
+and only live now in legend and this wine.
+
+KING: A gift, you say, for obedience.
+
+AMBASSADOR: A gift from the old wine-gardens of the sun.
+
+KING: How knew the Emperor that I had thus obeyed him?
+
+AMBASSADOR: It has not been men's wont to disobey the Emperor.
+
+KING: Yet if I have sheltered this man in the holy place of my Court?
+
+AMBASSADOR: If that be so the Emperor bids you drink out of this golden
+goblet. [_He signs and it is brought on by a bent and ugly dwarf_] and
+wishes you farewell.
+
+KING: Farewell, you say?
+
+AMBASSADOR: Farewell.
+
+KING: What have you in the goblet?
+
+AMBASSADOR: It is no common poison, but a thing so strange and deadly
+that the serpents of Lebutharna go in fear of it. Yea travellers there
+hold high a goblet of this poison, at arm's length as they go. The
+serpents hide their heads for fear of it. Even so the travellers pass
+the desert safely, and come to Eng-Bathai.
+
+KING: I have not sheltered this man.
+
+AMBASSADOR: There is no need then for this Imperial gift.
+
+[_He throws the liquid out of the goblet through the doorway on to the
+marble. A great steam goes up._
+
+KING: Neither have I ordered that his head be sent back to Eng-Bathai.
+
+AMBASSADOR: Alas, for so rare a wine.
+
+[_He pours it away._
+
+KING: I have banished him and he is safe. I have neither obeyed nor
+disobeyed.
+
+AMBASSADOR: The Emperor therefore bids you choose the gift that he
+honours himself by sending to your Court.
+
+[_He signs. Enter a massive_ NUBIAN _with two cups._
+
+The Emperor bids you drink one of these cups.
+
+[_The huge_ NUBIAN _moves up close to the_ KING _holding up the two cups
+on a tray._
+
+[_The_ POLITICIAN _slinks off. Exit L._
+
+KING: The cups are strangely alike.
+
+AMBASSADOR: Only one craftsman in the City of Smiths ever discerned a
+difference. The Emperor killed him, and now no one knows.
+
+KING: The potions also are alike.
+
+AMBASSADOR: Strangely alike. [_The_ KING _hesitates._] The Emperor bids
+you choose his gift and drink.
+
+KING: The Emperor has poisoned the cups!
+
+AMBASSADOR: You greatly wrong the Emperor. Only one cup is poisoned.
+
+KING: You say that one is poisoned?
+
+AMBASSADOR: Only one, O King! Who may say which?
+
+KING: And what if I refuse to do this thing?
+
+AMBASSADOR: There are tortures that the Emperor never names. They are
+not spoken of where the Emperor is. Yet the Emperor makes a sign and
+they are accomplished. He makes the sign with a certain one of his
+fingers.
+
+KING (_half to himself_): How wonderfully they have the look of wine.
+
+AMBASSADOR: One is a wine scarcely less rare, scarcely less jubilant in
+the wits of man, than that which alas is lost.
+
+[_He glances towards the spot where he threw the other._
+
+KING: And the other?
+
+AMBASSADOR: Who may say? It is the most treasured secret that the
+Emperor's poisoners guard.
+
+KING: I will send for my butlers that are wise in wine and they shall
+smell the cups.
+
+AMBASSADOR: Alas, but the Emperor's poisoners have added so wine-like a
+flavour to their most secret draught, that no man may tell by this means
+which is their work and which that inestimable wine.
+
+KING: I will send for my tasters and they shall taste of the cups.
+
+AMBASSADOR: Alas, so great a risk may not be run.
+
+KING: Risks are the duty of a king's tasters.
+
+AMBASSADOR: If they chanced to taste of the treasure of the Emperor's
+poisoners--well. But if they, or _any_ man of common birth, were to
+taste of the wine that the Emperor sends only to kings, and even to
+kings but rarely, that were an affront to the Emperor's ancient wine
+that could not be permitted.
+
+KING: It is surely permitted that I send for my priests, who tell by
+divination, having burnt strange herbs to the gods that guard the Golden
+Isles.
+
+AMBASSADOR: It is permitted.
+
+KING: Send for the priests.
+
+KING (_mainly to himself_): They shall discern. The priests shall make
+for me this dreadful choice. They shall burn herbs and discern it. (_To_
+AMBASSADOR.) My priests are very subtle. They worship the gods that
+guard the Golden Isles.
+
+AMBASSADOR: The Emperor has other gods.
+
+[_Enter L. two priests of the Order of the Sun. Two acolytes follow. One
+carries a tripod and the other a gong._
+
+[_The priests abase themselves and the acolytes bow. The_ AMBASSADOR
+_stands with almost Mongolian calm by the door from which he has not
+moved since he entered._
+
+[_The impassive_ NUBIAN _stands motionless near the_ KING, _holding up
+the cups on a tray._
+
+KING: The Emperor has honoured me with these two cups of wine that I may
+drink one of them to the grandeur of his throne. I bid you importune the
+gods that they may surely tell me which it were well to drink.
+
+FIRST PRIEST: We will importune the gods with the savour of rarest
+spices. We will send up to them the odour of herbs they love. We will
+commune with them in silence and they shall answer our thoughts, when
+they snuff the savour of the smoke of the burning on the tripod that is
+sacred to the Sun.
+
+[_The calm of the_ AMBASSADOR _and the impassivity of the_ NUBIAN _grow
+ominous. The two priests hang over the tripod. They cast herbs upon it.
+They pass their hands over it. The herbs begin to smoulder. A smoke
+goes up. The priests bend over the smoke. Presently they step back from
+it._
+
+FIRST PRIEST: The gods sleep.
+
+KING: They sleep! The gods that guard the Golden Isles?
+
+FIRST PRIEST: The gods sleep.
+
+KING: Importune them as never before. I will make sacrifice of many
+sheep. I will give emeralds to the Monks of the Sun.
+
+[_The second acolyte moves nearer to the tripod and beats listlessly on
+his great gong at about the pace of a great clock striking slowly._
+
+FIRST PRIEST: We will importune the gods as never before.
+
+[_They heap up more herbs and spices. The smoke grows thicker and
+thicker. It streams upwards. They hover about it as before. At a sign
+the gong ceases._
+
+The gods have spoken.
+
+KING: What is their message?
+
+FIRST PRIEST: Drink of the cup upon the Nubian's left.
+
+KING: Ah. My gods defend me.
+
+[_He seizes the cup boldly. He looks straight at the_ AMBASSADOR, _whose
+face remains expressionless, merely watching. He lifts the cup upon the
+Nubian's left a little up from the tray._
+
+[_He glances towards the priests._
+
+[_Suddenly he starts. He has seen a strange expression upon the face of
+the priest. He puts the cup down. He strides a step nearer and looks at
+his face._
+
+PRIEST!--Priest!---- What is that look in your eyes?
+
+FIRST PRIEST: O King, I know not. I have given the message of the gods.
+
+[_The_ KING _continues to search out his face._
+
+KING: I mistrust it.
+
+FIRST PRIEST: It is the message of the gods.
+
+KING: I will drink of the other cup!
+
+[_The_ KING _steps back to his place in the front of his throne where
+the Nubian stands beside him. He takes the cup upon the Nubian's right.
+He gazes at the priest. He looks round at the Ambassador, but sees
+nothing in that watchful, expressionless face._
+
+[_He glances sidelong at the priest, then drinks, draining the cup at
+some length. He puts it down in silence. The face of the Ambassador and
+the whole bulk of the Nubian remain motionless._
+
+KING: An inestimable wine!
+
+AMBASSADOR: It is the Emperor's joy.
+
+KING: Send for my Questioners.
+
+[_There are weird whistles. Two dark men run on in loin clothes._
+
+Ask these two priests the Seven Questions.
+
+[_The_ QUESTIONERS _run nimbly up to the two priests and lead them away
+by the arm._
+
+THE TWO ACOLYTES: O, O, O. Oh, oh.
+
+[_They show extreme horror. The_ AMBASSADOR _bows to the King._
+
+KING: You do not leave us at once?
+
+AMBASSADOR: I go back to the Emperor, whom it is happiness to obey, and
+length of days.
+
+[_He bows and walks away. The_ HERALD _marches out, then the_
+AMBASSADOR; _the_ PAGE, _the_ DWARF _and the_ NUBIAN _follow._
+
+[_Exeunt._
+
+[_The_ HERALD _is heard blowing upon his trumpet the same notes as when
+he entered, one merry bar of music._
+
+[_The tray and two precious cups, one empty and the other full, are left
+glittering near the_ KING.
+
+KING (_looking at cups_): Those are rare emeralds that glisten there!
+Yet an evil gift. (_To the moaning acolytes._) Be silent! Your priests
+sinned strangely.
+
+[_The acolytes continue to moan._
+
+[_Enter one of the_ QUESTIONERS. _He has sweat on his face and his hair
+has become damp and unkempt._
+
+QUESTIONER: We have asked the Seven Questions.
+
+KING: Well?
+
+QUESTIONER: They have not answered.
+
+KING: Not answered!
+
+QUESTIONER: Neither man has confessed.
+
+KING: Oho! Do I keep Questioners that bring me no answers?
+
+QUESTIONERS: We questioned them to the uttermost.
+
+KING: And neither man confessed?
+
+QUESTIONER: They would not confess.
+
+KING: Ask them the Supreme Question.
+
+[_The acolytes break out into renewed moaning._
+
+QUESTIONER: It shall be asked, O King.
+
+[_Exit_ QUESTIONER. _The acolytes moan on._
+
+KING: They would have made me drink of a poisoned cup. I say there is
+poison in that cup. Your priests would have had me drink it. (_The
+acolytes only answer by moans._) Bid them confess. Bid them confess
+their crime and why it was done, and the Supreme Question shall be
+spared them. (_The acolytes only answer by moans._) Strange! They have
+done strangely. (_To acolytes._) Why has your priest spoken falsely?
+(_The acolytes only moan._) Why has he spoken falsely in the name of the
+gods? (_The acolytes moan on._) Be silent! Be silent! May I not question
+whom I will? (_To himself_). They prophesied falsely in the name of the
+gods.
+
+[_Enter the_ QUESTIONERS.
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: The Supreme Question is asked.
+
+[_The acolytes suddenly cease moaning._
+
+KING: Well?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: They would not answer.
+
+KING: They would not answer the Supreme Question?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: They spoke at last, but they would not answer the
+question. They would not confess.
+
+KING: What said they at last?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: O, the King's Majesty, they but spake idly.
+
+KING: What said they?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: O, the King's Majesty, they said nought fitting.
+
+KING: They muttered so that no man heard them clearly?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: They spake. But it was not fitting.
+
+KING: Did they speak of small things happening long ago?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: O, the King's Majesty, it was not fitting.
+
+KING: What said they? Speak!
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: The man you gave to me, O King, said: "No man that
+knew the counsels of the gods, who alone see future things, would say
+the gods advised King Hamaran ill when they bade him drink out of a
+poisoned cup." Then I put the question straightly and he died.
+
+KING: The gods! He said it was the gods!... And the other?
+
+SECOND QUESTIONER: He also said the same, O the King's Majesty.
+
+KING: Both said the same. They were questioned in different chambers?
+
+FIRST QUESTIONER: In different chambers, O King. I questioned mine in
+the Red Chamber.
+
+KING (_to_ SECOND QUESTIONER): And yours?
+
+SECOND QUESTIONER: In the Chamber of Rats.
+
+KING: Begone!
+
+[_Exeunt_ QUESTIONERS.
+
+So ... It _was_ the gods.
+
+[_The acolytes are crouched upon the floor. He does not notice them
+since they ceased to moan._
+
+The gods! With what dark and dreadful thing have they clouded the
+future?
+
+Well, I will face it! But what is it? Is it one of those things a strong
+man can bear? Or is it----?
+
+The future is more terrible than the grave, that has its one secret
+only.
+
+No man, he said, could say that the gods had advised me ill when they
+bade me drink out of a poisoned cup.
+
+What have the gods seen? What dreadful work have they overlooked where
+Destiny sits alone, making evil years? The gods, he said, who alone see
+future things.
+
+Yes, I have known men who never were warned by the gods, and did not
+drink poison, and came upon evil days, suddenly like a ship upon rocks
+no mariner knows. Yes, poison to some of _them_ would have been very
+precious.
+
+The gods have warned me and I have not hearkened, and must go on alone:
+must enter that strange country of the future whose paths are so dark to
+man ... to meet a doom there that the gods have seen.
+
+The gods have seen it! How shall I thwart the gods? How fight against
+the shapers of the hills?
+
+Would that I had been warned. Would I had heeded when they bade me drink
+of the cup the Ambassador said was poisoned.
+
+[_Far off is heard that merry bar of music blown by the_ AMBASSADOR'S
+HERALD _on his horn._]
+
+_Is it too late?_
+
+There it stands yet with its green emeralds winking.
+
+[_He clutches it and looks down into it._
+
+How like to wine it is, which is full of dreams. It is silent and dreamy
+like the gods, whose dreams we are.
+
+Only a moment in their deathless minds: then the dream passes.
+
+[_He lifts up his arm and drinks it seated upon his throne with his head
+back and the great cup before his face. The audience begin to wonder
+when he will put it down. Still he remains in the attitude of a drinker.
+The acolytes begin to peer eagerly. Still he remains upright with the
+great cup to his lips. The acolytes patter away and the_ KING _is left
+alone._
+
+[_Enter the_ KING'S POLITICIAN _hurriedly._ _He goes up to the_ KING
+_and seizes his right arm and tries to drag the cup away from his lips,
+but the_ KING _is rigid and his arm cannot be moved. He steps back
+lifting up his hands._
+
+POLITICIAN: Oh-h!
+
+[_Exit. You hear him announcing solemnly_
+
+King Hamaran ... is dead!
+
+[_A murmur is heard of men, at first mournful. It grows louder and
+louder and then breaks into these clear words._
+
+Zarabardes is King! Zarabardes is King! Rejoice! Rejoice! Zarabardes is
+King! Zarabardes! Zarabardes! Zarabardes!
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+THE FLIGHT OF THE QUEEN
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+THE PRINCE OF ZOON.
+PRINCE MELIFLOR.
+QUEEN ZOOMZOOMARMA.
+LADY OOZIZI.
+OOMUZ, _a Common Soldier._
+THE GLORY OF XIMENUNG.
+THE OVERLORD OF MOOMOOMON.
+PRINCE HUZ.
+
+
+
+SCENE I
+
+_Time: June._
+
+_Scene: In the Palace of Zoorm; the Hall of the Hundred Princes._
+
+_The Princes sit at plain oaken tables with pewter mugs before them.
+They wear bright grass-green cloaks of silk; they might wear circlets of
+narrow silver with one large hyacinth petal rising from it at intervals
+of an inch._
+
+OOMUZ, _a Common Soldier, huge and squat, with brown skin and dense
+black beard, stands just inside the doorway, holding a pike, guarding
+the golden treasure._
+
+_The golden treasure lies in a heap three or four feet high near the
+right back corner._
+
+SENTRIES, _also brown-skinned and bearded, carrying pikes, pass and
+repass outside the great doorway._
+
+THE GLORY OF XIMENUNG: Heigho, Moomoomon.
+
+THE OVERLORD OF MOOMOOMON: Heigho, Glory of Ximenung.
+
+XIMENUNG: Weary?
+
+MOOMOOMON: Aye, weary.
+
+ANOTHER: Heigho.
+
+PRINCE MELIFLOR (_sympathetically_): What wearies you?
+
+MOOMOOMON: The idle hours and the idle days. Heigho.
+
+OTHERS: Heigho.
+
+MELIFLOR: Speak not against the idle hours, Moomoomon.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Why then, lord of the sweet lands?
+
+MELIFLOR: Because in idleness are all things, all things good.
+
+XIMENUNG: Heigho, I am weary of the idle hours.
+
+MOOMOOMON: You would work then?
+
+XIMENUNG: No-o. That is not our destiny.
+
+MELIFLOR: Let us be well contented with our lot. The idle hours are our
+sacred treasure.
+
+XIMENUNG: Yes, I am well contented, and yet ...
+
+MOOMOOMON (_contemplatively_): And yet ...
+
+XIMENUNG: I sometimes dream that were it not for our glorious state, and
+this tradition of exalted ease, it might, it might be pleasant ...
+
+MOOMOOMON: To toil, to labour, to raid the golden hoards.
+
+XIMENUNG: Yes, Moomoomon.
+
+MELIFLOR: Never! Never!
+
+OTHERS: No. No. No.
+
+ANOTHER: And yet ...
+
+MELIFLOR: No, never. We should lose our glorious ease, the heritage that
+none may question.
+
+XIMENUNG: What heritage is that, Prince Meliflor?
+
+MELIFLOR: It is all the earth. To labour is to lose it.
+
+MOOMOOMON: If we could toil we should gain some spot of earth that our
+labour would seem to make our own. How happily the workers come home at
+evening.
+
+MELIFLOR: It would be to lose all.
+
+PRINCE OF ZOON: How lose it, Meliflor?
+
+MELIFLOR: To us alone the idle hours are given. The sky, the fields, the
+woods, the summer winds are for us alone. All others put the earth to
+uses. This or that field has this or that use; here one may go and
+another may not. They have each their bit of earth and become slaves to
+its purpose. But for us, ah! for us, is all; the gift of the idle hours.
+
+SOME: Hurrah! Hurrah for the idle hours.
+
+ZOON: Heigho. The idle hours weary me.
+
+MELIFLOR: They give us all the earth and sky to contemplate. Both are
+for us.
+
+MOOMOOMON: True. Let us drink, and speak of the blue sky.
+
+MELIFLOR (_lifting mug_): And all our glorious heritage.
+
+XIMENUNG (_putting hand to mug_): Aye, it is glorious, and yet ...
+
+[_Enter the_ RAIDERS _of the Golden Hoard with spears and, in the other
+hand, leather wallets the size of your fist; these they cast on the
+heap. Nuggets the size of big filberts escape from some so that the heap
+is partly leather and partly gold. These wallets should be filled with
+nuggets of lead, about the size described, not one lump of lead and not
+sawdust or rags. Nothing destroys illusion on the stage more than a
+cannon ball falling with a soft pat. They look scowlingly at the
+Princes._
+
+[_Exeunt the_ RAIDERS. _The Princes have scarcely noticed them._
+
+MELIFLOR: See how they waste the hours.
+
+XIMENUNG: They have brought treasure from the Golden Hoard.
+
+ZOON: Yes, from the Golden Hoard beyond the marshes. I went there once
+with old brown Oomuz there.
+
+MELIFLOR: Of what avail is it to come back burdened thus? Has not the
+Queen more wealth than she'll ever need?
+
+MOOMOOMON: Aye, the Queen needs nothing more.
+
+ZOON: How can we know that?
+
+MOMOOMON: Why not?
+
+ZOON: The Queen obeys old impulses. Her sires are dead. Who knows whence
+those impulses come? How can we say what they are?
+
+MOOMOOMON: She cannot need more wealth than what is here.
+
+MELIFLOR: No, no, she cannot.
+
+ZOON: She needs more, for she has bidden them go again to the Golden
+Hoards. Her impulses have demanded it.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Then there is no reason in her impulses.
+
+ZOON: They do not come from reason.
+
+MOOMOOMON: So I said.
+
+ZOON: They come from Fate.
+
+MOOMOOMON: From Fate!
+
+[_There is a hush at this._ OOMUZ _comes nearer and kneels down._
+
+OOMUZ: Oh, Masters, Masters. If there be anything greater, greater than
+the Queen, speak not of it, Masters, speak not its name.
+
+ZOON: No, Oomuz. We need nothing greater.
+
+OOMUZ: The name frightened me, Mighty Highness.
+
+ZOON: Yes, yes, Oomuz; there is only the Queen.
+
+MOOMOOMON: No, there is nothing greater than the Queen, and she has no
+need of anything more than the treasure that he guards there.
+
+OOMUZ: There is one thing more.
+
+MOOMOOMON: More? What is that?
+
+OOMUZ: There is one thing more. The Queen needs one thing more. This has
+been told us and we know.
+
+MOOMOOMON: What is it?
+
+OOMUZ: How should we know that? None knows the need of the Queen.
+
+[OOMUZ _returns to guard his heap._
+
+ZOON: What think you, Oomuz? What think you is this need of the Queen?
+
+[OOMUZ _shakes his head about three times._ PRINCE OF ZOON _sighs._
+
+SEVERAL PRINCES (_together wearily_): Heigho.
+
+MELIFOR: Take comfort in our heritage, illustrious comrades. Come! We
+will drink to the sun.
+
+SOME: To the sun! To the sun! (_They drink._)
+
+MELIFLOR: To the golden idle hours! (_He drinks._) Let us be worthy,
+glorious companions, of our exalted calling. Let us enjoy the days of
+idleness. Sing to us, mighty one of Zoon, as the idle hours go by. Sing
+us a song.
+
+MOOMOOMON (_idly_): Yes, sing to us.
+
+ZOON: As you all know, I can but hum. But I will hum you a song that I
+heard yesterday; very strange it was; sung in the meadows by two that
+were not of our people; sung in the evening. I heard it as I loitered
+home from the meadows beyond the marshes. There is no ease in the song,
+and yet ...
+
+MOOMOOMON: Hum it to us.
+
+ZOON: They sang it together, the two that were not of our people.
+
+[_He hums a song. They all lift up their heads from their listlessness._
+
+MELIFLOR (_wonderingly_): That is a song that is new.
+
+ZOON: Yes, it is new to me.
+
+MELIFLOR: It is like an old song.
+
+ZOON: Yes, perhaps it is old.
+
+MELIFLOR: What is the song?
+
+ZOON: It tells of love.
+
+THE PRINCES: Ah-h!
+
+[_They seem to wake as though young and strong out of sleep. There is a
+great commotion among them. The sentries outside are utterly unmoved._
+OOMUZ, _without sharing any of the excitement of the Princes, now nods
+his head solemnly as he had once shaken it._
+
+MOOMOOMON: Love! It must have been that that I felt that day in the
+twilight as I came back round the peak of Zing-gee Mountain.
+
+XIMENUNG: You felt it, Moomoomon? Tell us.
+
+MOOMOOMON: All the air seemed gold, seemed gold of a sudden. Through it
+I saw fair fields, glittering green far down, glimpsed between clumps of
+the heather. The gold was all about them, yet they shone with their own
+fair colours. Ah, how can I tell you all I saw? My feet seemed scarce to
+touch the slope of the mountain; I too seemed one with the golden air in
+which all things were shining.
+
+XIMENUNG: And this was Love?
+
+MOOMOOMON: I know not. It was some strange new thing. It was strange and
+new like this song.
+
+MELIFLOR: Perhaps, it was some other strange new thing.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Perhaps. I know not.
+
+ZOON: No. It was Love.
+
+MOOMOOMON: And then that evening in the golden light I knew the purpose
+of Earth and why all things are.
+
+XIMENUNG: What is the purpose, Moomoomon?
+
+MOOMOOMON: I know not. I was content. I troubled not to remember.
+
+ZOON: It was love.
+
+XIMENUNG: Let us love.
+
+OTHERS: Aye.
+
+HUZ: Aye, that is best of all.
+
+MELIFLOR: No, Princes. The best is idleness. Out of the idle hours all
+good things come.
+
+HUZ: I will love. That is best.
+
+MELIFLOR: It is like all things, the gift of the idle hours. The workers
+never love. Their fancies are fastened to the work they do, and do not
+roam towards love.
+
+ALL: Love! Let us love.
+
+MELIFLOR: We will love in idleness and praise the idle hours.
+
+XIMENUNG: Whom will you love, lord of the shimmering fields?
+
+MELIFLOR: I have but to show myself loitering by lanes in the evening.
+
+XIMENUNG: I too will be there.
+
+MELIFLOR: And when they see me ...
+
+XIMENUNG: They will see me too ...
+
+MELIFLOR (_rising_): Behold me.
+
+XIMENUNG: So I do.
+
+MELIFLOR: Will they look towards you when this is there?
+
+XIMENUNG: Are birch-trees seen at dawn fairer than I?
+
+MELIFLOR: Behold me; not a poplar is straighter, not a flower is
+fairer. I will loiter along the lanes at evening.
+
+[_He draws his sword._ XIMENUNG _does the same._ MOOMOOMON _draws his
+too and places it between them._
+
+MOOMOOMON: Be at peace. _I_ will go to the lanes, and there need be no
+quarrel between you, for _I_....
+
+OTHERS: No, no, no....
+
+HUZ: We will all go.
+
+ANOTHER: We will all love. Hurrah for love.
+
+[_They have all risen. They wave their swords on high, not threatening
+each other. Zoon alone has not risen._
+
+MOOMOOMON (_to_ ZOON): You do not speak, Prince of Zoon. Will you not
+love along the idle hours?
+
+ZOON: Yes, yes. I love.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Come then to the lanes to loiter. It draws towards evening.
+Let us all come to the lanes, where the honeysuckle is hanging.
+
+ZOON: I love not in the lanes.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Not in the lanes? Then...!
+
+OTHERS: Not in the lanes?
+
+ZOON: I love her than whom there is no greater on earth--(_Some_
+PRINCES: Ah!) unless it be that name that frightens Oomuz.
+
+MOOMOOMON: He loves the...!
+
+XIMENUNG: The ...
+
+MELIFLOR: The Queen!
+
+[OOMUZ _nods his head again._
+
+ZOON: The Queen.
+
+MOOMOOMON: If the Queen knew such a thing she would flee from the
+palace.
+
+ZOON: I would pursue.
+
+MOOMOOMON: She would go by Aether Mountain, where her mother went once
+before her.
+
+ZOON: I would follow.
+
+HUZ: We would all follow.
+
+MELIFLOR: I would follow too. I would dance after her down the little
+street: the bright heels of my shoes would twinkle: my cloak would float
+out behind me: I would pursue her and call her name, beyond the street
+and over the moor as far as Aether Mountain: but I would not come up
+with her: that would be _too_ daring.
+
+ZOON: Love is not a toy, Prince Meliflor. Love is no less than a mood of
+Destiny.
+
+MELIFLOR: Pooh! We must enjoy the idle hours that are for us alone.
+
+ZOON: There will be no idle hours on Aether Mountain, following from
+crag to crag; if it be true that she would go that way.
+
+MOOMOOMON: It is true. They know it. They say her mother went that way
+before. It is one of the royal impulses.
+
+ZOON: Oomuz, did the mother of the Queen go once up Aether Mountain?
+
+OOMUZ: Aye, and _her_ mother.
+
+ZOON: It is true.
+
+XIMENUNG: You are sure of this?
+
+OOMUZ: We know it. It has been said.
+
+HUZ: We will all follow her up Aether Mountain.
+
+MELIFLOR: We will follow merrily.
+
+XIMENUNG: If we did this what would they do when we returned?
+
+MELIFLOR: Who?
+
+XIMENUNG: They.
+
+MELIFLOR: They? They would not dare to speak to _us_.
+
+XIMENUNG: Who knows what they would dare if we dared go after the Queen?
+
+MOOMOOMON: They would dare nothing, knowing whence we come.
+
+XIMENUNG: They care not whence we come.
+
+MOOMOOMON: But they care for the event that is in our hands. They dare
+never touch us because of the event.
+
+MELIFLOR: We are the heirs of the idle hours. For them is work. Surely
+they dare not leave their work to touch us.
+
+MOOMOOMON: They care only for the event. Because it is prophesied that
+we are needed for the event we are sacred. Were it not for the event,
+why ...
+
+MELIFLOR: Were it not for the event we might not dare to do it; but,
+being sacred, let us enjoy our idle hours.
+
+XIMENUNG: What if the event should one day befall?
+
+MELIFLOR: It was prophesied long ago and has not come. It will not come
+for a long time.
+
+MOOMOOMON: No, not for a long time.
+
+[_A sentry passes._
+
+MELIFLOR: So we will follow the Queen.
+
+HUZ: Yes, we will follow.
+
+MOOMOOMON: We shall be a merry company.
+
+MELIFLOR: Splendid to see.
+
+ZOON: I would follow though I were not guarded for the event. Though the
+event should befall and we be immune no longer, still I should dare it.
+
+MELIFLOR: I would dare it if I knew what they would do. But knowing
+not ...
+
+MOOMOOMON: What matter? We are guarded by the event.
+
+ZOON: I say I care not.
+
+MELIFLOR: Let us drum with our heels and beat with our scabbards against
+the benches so that we frighten the Queen. She will run from the palace
+then, and we will go after her with all our merry company.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Yes, let us drum all together. I will give the word. All
+together and she will run from the palace. We will go after and our
+cloaks will stream behind us.
+
+HUZ: Brave! And our scabbards will show bright beneath them.
+
+MELIFLOR: No, I will give the word. When she flees from the palace I
+will follow her first. Crowd not about my cloak as it streams in the
+wind. We must throw up our heels as we run to make our shoes twinkle. We
+must show gaily in the little street. Afterwards we can run more easily.
+
+HUZ: Aye, in the street we must run beautifully.
+
+MOOMOOMON: I think that I should give the word when we rattle our
+scabbards and all drum with our heels; but I waive the point. But I do
+not think that the Queen can run far. She has never left the palace. How
+could she run over the moor as far as Aether Mountain. She will faint at
+the end of the street and we shall come up with her and bow and offer
+her our assistance.
+
+MELIFLOR: Good, good. It would be cold and rocky on Aether Mountain.
+
+MOOMOOMON: The Queen could never go there over the moor.
+
+HUZ: No, she is too dainty.
+
+XIMENUNG: They say she could.
+
+MELIFLOR: They; what do they know? Common workers. What should they
+know of queens?
+
+XIMENUNG: They have the old prophesies that came over the fields from
+the dawn.
+
+MELIFLOR: Yet they cannot understand the Queen.
+
+XIMENUNG: They say her mother went there.
+
+MELIFLOR: That was long ago. Women are quite different now.
+
+XIMENUNG: Well, give the word.
+
+MELIFLOR: Nay. You shall give the word, Moomoomon. When you raise your
+hand we will all drum with our heels together and rattle our scabbards
+together, and frighten the Queen.
+
+MOOMOOMON: I honour your courtesy, lord of the deep meadows.
+
+MELIFLOR: We are ready then. When you raise your hand----
+
+[_A gust of laughter is heard off, from a far part of the palace._
+
+MOOMOOMON: Hark! Hark!
+
+MELIFLOR: It is the Queen! She laughed.
+
+HUZ: Could she have guessed...?
+
+MOOMOOMON: I trust not.
+
+MELIFLOR: She--she--cannot have been thinking of _us_.
+
+MOOMOOMON: She--she--seldom laughs.
+
+HUZ: What can it be?
+
+MOOMOOMON: Perhaps it was nothing and yet ...
+
+MELIFLOR: Yet it makes me uneasy.
+
+MOOMOOMON: It is not that I fear, but, when a queen laughs--it makes a
+feeling in the palace--as though all were not well.
+
+HUZ: It makes one have forebodings. One cannot help it.
+
+MELIFLOR: Perhaps; perhaps later we could return to our gallant scheme;
+for the present I think I'll hide a while.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Yes, let us hide.
+
+MELIFLOR: So that if there be anything wrong in the palace it will not
+find us.
+
+[_Exeunt_ MOOMOOMON _and_ MELIFLOR.
+
+HUZ: Let us hide.
+
+[_Exeunt all but_ ZOON _and_ OOMUZ.
+
+[ZOON _has sat always with bent head at table. He sits so, still._
+
+ZOON (_bitterly_): They would follow the Queen.
+
+OOMUZ: Mighty Highness----
+
+ZOON (_still to himself_): They will come back boasting that they dared
+follow the Queen.
+
+OOMUZ: Mighty Highness.
+
+ZOON: Yes, good Oomuz.
+
+OOMUZ: In other times once princes followed a queen and came back
+boasting. Master, the workers were angry. Be warned, Master, because you
+and I went together once to the hoard beyond the marshes. Be warned.
+They were angry, Master.
+
+ZOON: I care not for the workers.
+
+OOMUZ: Master, be warned. It was long ago and they say they were very
+angry.
+
+ZOON: I care not, Oomuz. I come not boasting back from the hills under
+Aether Mountain. I shall not halt till I have told the Queen my love. I
+shall wed with her who is less only than Fate, if less she be. I am not
+as those, Oomuz. Who weds the Queen is more than the servant of Fate.
+
+OOMUZ: Master----
+
+[_He stretches out his hands towards_ ZOON _imploringly._
+
+ZOON: Well, Oomuz?
+
+OOMUZ: Master. There is a doom about the Queen.
+
+ZOON: What doom, Oomuz?
+
+OOMUZ: We know not, Master. We are simple people and we know not that.
+But we know from of old there is a doom about her. We know it, Master;
+we have been told from of old.
+
+ZOON: Yes, there could well be a doom about the Queen.
+
+OOMUZ: Follow not after, Master, when she goes to Aether Mountain. There
+is surely a doom about her. A doom was with her mother upon that very
+peak.
+
+ZOON: Yes, Oomuz, a doom well becomes her.
+
+OOMUZ: Doubt it not, Master; there is a doom about her.
+
+ZOON: Oomuz, I doubt not. For there is something wonderful about the
+Queen, beyond all earthly wonders. Something like thunder beyond far
+clouds or hail hurling from heaven; there should be indeed a terrible
+doom about her.
+
+OOMUZ: Master, I have warned you for the sake of the days when we raided
+the golden hoard beyond the marshes.
+
+ZOON (_taking his hand_): Thank you, good Oomuz.
+
+[_He goes towards door after the others._
+
+OOMUZ: But where go you, Master?
+
+ZOON: I wait to follow the Queen when she goes to Aether Mountain.
+
+[_Exit._ OOMUZ _weeps silently on to the Queen's Treasure._
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+
+_The Palace of Zoorm: the Hall of Queen Zoomzoomarma._
+
+_Time: Same as Scene I._
+
+THE QUEEN: Is none worthy to kiss my hand, Oozizi; none?
+
+LADY OOZIZI: Lady, none.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _sighs._
+
+You should not sigh, great lady.
+
+QUEEN: Why should I not sigh, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Great lady, because such things as sighs pertain only to love.
+
+QUEEN: Love is a joy, Oozizi; love is a glow. Love makes them dance so
+lightly along rays of the sunlight. It is made of sunlight and gladness.
+It is like flowers in twilight. How should they sigh?
+
+OOZIZI: Lady! Great lady! Say not such things of love!
+
+QUEEN: Say not such things, Oozizi? Are they not true?
+
+OOZIZI: True? Yes, great lady, true. But love is a toy of the humble;
+love is a common thing that the lowly use; love is ... Great lady, had
+any overheard you speaking then they might have thought, they might
+have madly dreamed ...
+
+QUEEN: Dreamed what, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Incredible things.
+
+QUEEN (_meditatively_): I must not love, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady! The common people love.
+
+[_She points to door._
+
+Lady, the green fields going from here to the blueness, and bending
+towards it, and going wandering on, and the rivers they meet and the
+woods that shade the rivers, all own you for their sovereign. Lady, a
+million lime-trees mellow your realm. The golden hoards are yours. Yours
+are the deep fields and the iris marshes. Yours are the roads of
+wandering and all ways home. The common delights of love your mere
+soldiers know. Lady, you may not love.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _sighs._ OOZIZI _continues her knitting._
+
+QUEEN: My mother loved, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, for a day. For one day, mighty lady, As one might stoop in
+idleness to a broken toy and pick it up and throw it again away, so she
+loved for a day. That idle fancy of an afternoon tarnished no pinnacle
+that shone from her exalted station. But to love for more than a
+day--(QUEEN'S _face lights up_)--that were to place your high
+unequalled glory below a vulgar pastime. One alone may sit in the golden
+palace to reign over the green fields; but all may love.
+
+QUEEN: Do all love but I, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Wondrous many, lady.
+
+QUEEN: How know you, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: The common shouts that come up at evening, the clamour of the
+lanes; they are but from love.
+
+QUEEN: What is love, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Love is a foolish thing.
+
+QUEEN: How know you, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: They came tittering to me once; but I saw the foolishness of it.
+
+QUEEN (_a little sadly_): And they came no more?
+
+OOZIZI (_a little sadly too_): No more.
+
+[_Both look thoughtfully out into dreams, the_ QUEEN _on her throne,
+chin on hand._
+
+[_Suddenly a stir is heard from the Hall of the Hundred Princes._
+
+QUEEN (_alarmed_): Hark! What was that?
+
+OOZIZI (_rises, listening anxiously_): It sounded ... to come from the
+Hall ... of the Hundred Princes.
+
+QUEEN: They were never heard here before.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, never.
+
+QUEEN (_anxiously_): What can it mean?
+
+OOZIZI: I know not, lady.
+
+QUEEN: Sound never troubled our inner chamber before.
+
+OOZIZI: All is quiet now.
+
+QUEEN: Hark! (_They listen._)
+
+OOZIZI: All is quiet.
+
+QUEEN: Sound from beyond our wall, Oozizi. How it disturbs. I could not
+rule over the green fields if sounds came up to me from the further
+halls full of their strange thoughts. Why do sounds come to me, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Great lady, it has never been before. It will never be again.
+You must forget it, lady. You must not let it disturb your reign.
+
+QUEEN: It brought strange thoughts with it, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: All is quiet now.
+
+QUEEN: If it came again....
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, it will not come again. It will come no more. It is quiet.
+
+QUEEN: If it came again ... Is the door open, Oozizi? Yes ... If it came
+again I should almost flee from the palace.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady! Think not of leaving the golden palace!
+
+QUEEN: If it came again.
+
+OOZIZI: It will not come again.
+
+[_The heels of the Princes drum louder, off._
+
+QUEEN: Again, Oozizi:
+
+[OOZIZI _pants._ _The_ QUEEN _waits, listening, in fear. Again the heels
+are heard._
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _runs to the small door. She looks out._
+
+OOZIZI: Lady! Lady!
+
+QUEEN: Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady! Lady! You must never leave the palace. You must never
+leave it. You must not.
+
+QUEEN: Hark, it is quiet now.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, it would be terrible to leave the golden palace. Who would
+reign? What would happen?
+
+QUEEN: It is quiet now. What would happen, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: The world would end.
+
+QUEEN: It is quiet now; perhaps I need not fly.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, you must not.
+
+QUEEN: And yet I would fain go over those green fields all gleaming with
+summer, and see the golden hoards that no man guards, glittering with
+such a light as glows this June.
+
+OOZIZI: O, speak not, great lady, of the green fields and June. It is
+these that have intoxicated the Princes so that they do this unrecorded
+thing, letting sound of them be heard in your sacred room.
+
+QUEEN: Has June intoxicated them, Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI: Oh, lady, speak not of June.
+
+QUEEN: Is June so terrible?
+
+[_She returns towards_ OOZIZI.
+
+OOZIZI: It does strange things.
+
+[_The noise breaks out again._
+
+Hark!
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _runs to the door again._ OOZIZI _stretches out her arms to
+the_ QUEEN.
+
+O, lady, never leave the golden palace.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _listens; all is silent; she looks outside._
+
+QUEEN: I see the green fields gleaming. Strange flowers are standing
+among them, like princes I have not known.
+
+OOZIZI: Oh, lady, speak not of the bewildering fields. They are all
+enchanted with Summer, and they have maddened the Princes. It is
+dangerous to look at them, lady.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _gazes on over the fields._
+
+And yet you look.
+
+QUEEN: I would fain go far over the strange soft fields; far and far to
+the high heathery lands----
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, all is quiet; there is no danger; you must not leave the
+palace.
+
+QUEEN: Yes, all is quiet.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _returns._
+
+OOZIZI: It was a passing madness seized the Princes.
+
+QUEEN: Oozizi, when I hear the sound of all their feet it is dreadful,
+and I must fly. And when I see the wonderful fields in the sunlight
+sloping away to lands I have never known, then I long to fly away and
+away for ever, passing from field to field and land to land.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, no, no!
+
+QUEEN: Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Yes, great lady.
+
+QUEEN: There is a mountain there that towers above the earth. It goes up
+into a calm of which our world knows nothing. Heaven, like a cloak, is
+draped about its shoulders. Why have none told me of this mountain,
+Oozizi?
+
+OOZIZI (_awed_): Aether Mountain.
+
+QUEEN: Why has none told me?
+
+OOZIZI: When your glorious mother, lady, loved for a day ...
+
+QUEEN: Yes, Oozizi ...
+
+OOZIZI: She went, as all songs tell, to Aether Mountain.
+
+QUEEN (_entranced_): To Aether Mountain?
+
+OOZIZI: So they sing at evening, when they throw down their loads of
+gold and rest.
+
+QUEEN: To Aether Mountain.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, Destiny sent her; but you must not go. You must not leave
+your throne to go to Aether Mountain.
+
+QUEEN: There is a calm upon it not of earth.
+
+OOZIZI: You must not go, lady, you must not go.
+
+QUEEN: I will not go.
+
+[_The Princes drum again, still louder with their heels._
+
+Hark!
+
+[OOZIZI _is frightened, The_ QUEEN _runs to the door._
+
+It is louder! They are nearer! They are coming here!
+
+OOZIZI: No, lady. They would not dare!
+
+QUEEN: I must go, Oozizi; I must go.
+
+OOZIZI: No, lady. They will never dare. You must not. Hark! They come no
+nearer. June has maddened them, but they come no nearer. They are quiet
+now. Come back, lady. Leave the door, they come no nearer. See, it is
+all quiet now. They come no nearer, lady. (OOZIZI _catches her by the
+sleeve._) Lady, you must not.
+
+QUEEN (_much calmer, gazing away_): Oozizi, I must go.
+
+OOZIZI: No, no, lady! All is quiet; you must not go.
+
+QUEEN (_calmly_): It is calling for me, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: What is calling, lady? Nothing calls.
+
+QUEEN: It is calling, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Oh, lady, all is silent. No one calls.
+
+QUEEN: It is calling for me now, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: No, no, lady. What calls?
+
+QUEEN: Aether Mountain is calling. I know now who called my mother. It
+was Aether Mountain, Oozizi; he is calling.
+
+OOZIZI: I--I scarce dare look out of the golden palace, lady, to where
+we must not go. Yet, yet I will look. (_She peers._) Yes, yes, indeed;
+there stands old Aether Mountain. But he does not call. Indeed he does
+not call. He is all silent in Heaven.
+
+QUEEN: It is his voice, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: What, lady? I hear no voice.
+
+QUEEN: That great, great silence is his voice, Oozizi. He is calling me
+out of that blue waste of Heaven.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, I cannot understand.
+
+QUEEN: He calls, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Come away, lady. It is bad to look so long. Oh, if the Princes
+had not made their clamour heard! Oh, if they had not you had not gone
+to the door and seen Aether Mountain, and this trouble had not come.
+Oh! Oh! Oh!
+
+QUEEN: There is no trouble upon Aether Mountain.
+
+OOZIZI: Oh, lady, it is terrible that you should leave the palace.
+
+QUEEN: There is no trouble there. Aether Mountain goes all calm into
+Heaven. His grey-blue slopes are calm as the sky about him. There he
+stands calling. He is calling to me, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI (_reflecting_): Can it be?
+
+QUEEN: What would you ask, Oozizi?
+
+Oozizi: Can it be that it is with you, great lady, as it was with the
+Queen, your mother, when Destiny sent her hence to Aether Mountain?
+
+QUEEN: Aether Mountain calls.
+
+OOZIZI: Lady, for a moment hear me. Come with me but a little while.
+
+[_She leads the_ QUEEN _slowly by the arm back to the throne._
+
+Lady, be seated here once more and take up the orb and sceptre in your
+small hands as of old.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _patiently does as she is told._
+
+Now, if Destiny calls you, let him call to you as to a Queen. Now, if it
+be for no whim of those that pass, that you would go so far from here to
+that great mountain, say, seated upon your throne in the golden palace
+with sceptre and orb in hand, say would you go forth, lady?
+
+QUEEN (_almost dreaming_): Aether Mountain calls.
+
+[OOZIZI _bursts into tears. She helps the_ QUEEN _by the arm from her
+throne and leads her part of the way to the door. There she stops. The_
+QUEEN _goes on to the door alone._
+
+OOZIZI: Farewell, lady.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _gazes out rapturously towards Aether Mountain. Then she
+walks back and embraces Oozizi._
+
+QUEEN: Farewell, Oozizi.
+
+OOZIZI: Farewell, great lady.
+
+[_The_ QUEEN _turns, then suddenly she runs swiftly and nimbly through
+the door and disappears._
+
+[_At once there is a murmur of voices from the Hall of the Hundred
+Princes._
+
+VOICES (_off_): Ah, ah, ah.
+
+[OOZIZI _stands still weeping._
+
+[_Enter the Princes, exquisite and frivolous. They crowd past each
+other._
+
+MELIFLOR: And where is our little Queen?
+
+[OOZIZI _answers with a defiant look through her tears, which has its
+effect on them._
+
+MOOMOOMON (_foppishly_): There, there.
+
+XIMENUNG: Gone!
+
+MELIFLOR: Come! Let us follow.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Shall we?
+
+SEVERAL: Yes.
+
+MOOMOOMON: Come.
+
+[_They stream across from the side door R to the door in back_, OOZIZI
+_regarding them haughtily._
+
+OOZIZI (_menacingly_): It is Aether Mountain.
+
+[_Entranced, silent, last of all_ ZOON _follows. Exeunt all the Princes.
+Sounds as of rough protest heard from the workers off. The grim brown
+heads of two or three peer round the door by which the Princes entered.
+Many come on, dumb, puzzled, turning their brown heads, searching. At
+last they cluster round_ OOZIZI. "Er"? _they say._
+
+OOZIZI: Aether Mountain has called her.
+
+[_They nod dumb heads gravely._
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+
+_On the base of Aether Mountain._
+
+_Right, heather sloping up to left, which is rugged with tumbled grey
+rocks._
+
+_Further left all the scene is filled with the rising bulk of Aether
+Mountain._
+
+_Low down, far off and small in the background to the right appears a
+little palace of pure gold._
+
+_Enter right the_ QUEEN _running untired and nimble, unchecked by those
+grey rocks._
+
+_Following her the tired_ PRINCES _come._
+
+ZOON _is no longer last, but about fourth, and gaining._
+
+MELIFLOR _leads._
+
+MELIFLOR: Permit me, great lady. My hand over the rocks. Permit ...
+
+[_He falls and cannot rise._
+
+MOOMOOMON: Permit me. (_He falls too._) These rocks; it is these rocks.
+
+XIMENUNG (_going wearily_): Great lady. A moment. One moment, great
+lady. Allow me.
+
+[_But_ ZOON _does not speak. Exeunt L. the Queen and those Princes that
+have not fallen. The curtain falls on stragglers crossing the stage._
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+
+_The Summit._
+
+_On the snow on the pinnacle of Aether Mountain, with only bright blue
+sky all round and everywhere, recline_ QUEEN ZOOMZOOMARMA _and the_
+PRINCE OF ZOON.
+
+THE QUEEN: You had known no love before, First of a Hundred?
+
+PRINCE OF ZOON: There is no love on earth, O Queen of all.
+
+QUEEN: Only here.
+
+ZOON: Pure love is only here on this peak lonely in heaven.
+
+QUEEN: Would you love me elsewhere if we went from here?
+
+ZOON: But we will never go from here.
+
+QUEEN: No, we will never leave it.
+
+ZOON: Lady, look down. (_She looks._) The earth is sorrowful. (_She
+sighs._) Cares. Cares. All over the wide surface we can see are
+troubles; troubles far off and grey, that harm not Aether Mountain.
+
+QUEEN: It looks a long way off and long ago.
+
+ZOON (_wonderingly_): Only to-day we came to Aether Mountain.
+
+QUEEN: Only to-day?
+
+ZOON: We crossed a gulf of time.
+
+QUEEN: It lies below us, all drowsy with years.
+
+ZOON: Lady, here is your home, this peak that has entered heaven. Let us
+never leave your home.
+
+QUEEN: I knew not until to-day of Aether Mountain. None had told me.
+
+ZOON: Knew you never, lady, of love?
+
+QUEEN: None had told me.
+
+ZOON: This is your home; not Earth; no golden palace. Reign here alone,
+not knowing the cares of men, without yesterday or to-morrow, untroubled
+by history or council.
+
+QUEEN: Yes, yes, we will return no more.
+
+ZOON: See, lady, see the Earth. Is it not as a dream just faded?
+
+QUEEN: It is dim indeed, grey and dream-like.
+
+ZOON: It is the Earth we knew.
+
+QUEEN: It is all dream-like.
+
+ZOON: It is gone; we can dimly see it.
+
+QUEEN: Was it a dream?
+
+ZOON: Perhaps. It is gone now and does not matter.
+
+QUEEN: Poor Earth. I hope it was real.
+
+ZOON (_seizing her hand_): Oh, Zoomzoomarma, say not you hope that Earth
+was real. It is gone now. See; it is so far away. Sigh not for Earth, oh
+lady, sigh not for Earth.
+
+QUEEN: Why not, King of Aether Mountain?
+
+ZOON: Because when you sigh for tiny things I tremble for your love. See
+how faint and small it is and how far away.
+
+QUEEN: I do not sigh for Earth, King of the Mountain. I only wish it
+well.
+
+ZOON: Oh, wish it not well, lady.
+
+QUEEN: Let us wish the poor Earth well.
+
+ZOON: No, lady, no. Be with me always wholly, living not partly in
+dreams. There is no Earth. It is but a dream that left us. See, see
+(_pointing down_) it is a dim dream.
+
+QUEEN (_looking down_): The people move there still. See, there is
+Prince Ximenung. Something down there seems almost unlike dreams.
+
+ZOON: No, lady, it cannot be.
+
+QUEEN: How know you, Lord of the Mountain?
+
+ZOON: It was too unreal for life. Love was not there. Surely it was a
+dream.
+
+QUEEN: Yes, I knew not love in the golden palace of Zoorm.
+
+ZOON: Then indeed it was unreal, Golden Lady. Forget the dream of
+Earth.
+
+QUEEN: If love be real ...
+
+ZOON: Can you doubt it?
+
+QUEEN: No. It was a dream. Just now I dreamt it. Are dreams bad, my
+Prince?
+
+ZOON: No. They are just dreams.
+
+QUEEN: We will think of dreams no more.
+
+ZOON: This is where love is, and here only. We should not dream too much
+or think of dreams, because the place is holy.
+
+QUEEN: Is love here only, darling?
+
+ZOON: Here only, Golden Queen. Do any others elsewhere love as we.
+
+QUEEN: No, I think not.
+
+ZOON: Then how can pure love be elsewhere?
+
+QUEEN: It is true.
+
+ZOON: On this clear peak that just enters Heaven love is and only here.
+The rest is dreams.
+
+QUEEN: Could we awake from love and find Earth true?
+
+ZOON: No, no, no. Sweet Lady, let not such fancies alarm you.
+
+QUEEN: And yet folks wake from dreams. It would be terrible.
+
+ZOON: No, no, there are things too real for dreams. You cannot waken
+from love. Dreams are of fantastic things, things fanciful and weak, and
+things confused and intricate like Earth. When you think of them in
+your dreams you see their unreality. But if love were not real what
+could there be to wake to.
+
+QUEEN: True. How wise you are. It was but a fancy that troubled me.
+(_Looking down._) It was one of those dreams at dawn. It is faint and
+far-off now.
+
+ZOON: Will you love me for ever, Golden Queen?
+
+QUEEN: For ever. Why not? You will love me for ever?
+
+ZOON: For ever. I cannot help it.
+
+QUEEN: Let us look at the dream far off, in the dimness our thoughts
+have forsaken.
+
+ZOON: Aye, let us look. It was a sad dream somewhat; and yet upon this
+peak where all is love all that we see seems happy.
+
+QUEEN: See the dream there. Look at those. They seem to walk dreamily as
+they walk in the dream.
+
+ZOON: It is because they have not love, which is only here.
+
+QUEEN: Look! Look at those dreamers in the dream.
+
+ZOON: They are running.
+
+QUEEN: Oh! Look!
+
+ZOON: They are pursued.
+
+QUEEN: The brown ones are pursuing them with spears.
+
+ZOON: It is Prince Meliflor, Prince Moomoomon, Prince Ximenung that run
+in the dream. And the Prince of Huz. The brown men are close.
+
+QUEEN: The brown ones are overtaking them.
+
+ZOON: Yes, they are closer.
+
+QUEEN: Look! Prince Ximenung!
+
+ZOON: Yes, he is dead in the dream.
+
+QUEEN: The Prince of Huz?
+
+ZOON: Speared.
+
+QUEEN: Still, still they are killing them.
+
+ZOON: It is all the Hundred Princes.
+
+QUEEN: They are killing them all.
+
+ZOON: A sad sight once.
+
+QUEEN: Once?
+
+ZOON: I should have wept once.
+
+QUEEN: It is so far off now.
+
+ZOON: It is so far, far off. We can only feel joy upon this holy
+mountain.
+
+QUEEN: Only joy. (_He sighs as he looks._) Look! (_He sighs again._)
+
+ZOON: There falls the poor Prince Meliflor.
+
+QUEEN: How huge a thrust it was with the great spear.
+
+ZOON: He is dead.
+
+QUEEN: Are you not happy?
+
+ZOON: Yes.
+
+QUEEN: In your voice there seemed to sound some far-off thing. Some
+strange thing. Was it sorrow?
+
+ZOON: No; we are too high; sorrow cannot come. No grief can touch us
+here, no woe drift up to us from the woes of Earth.
+
+QUEEN: I thought there was some strange thing in your voice, like
+sorrows we have dreamed.
+
+ZOON: No, Golden Queen. Those fancied sorrows of dreams cannot touch
+reality.
+
+QUEEN: You will never be sorry we have woken and left the dream of
+Earth?
+
+ZOON: No, glorious lady; nothing can bring me trouble ever again.
+
+QUEEN: Not even I?
+
+ZOON: Never you, my Golden Zoomzoomarma, for on this sacred peak where
+there is only love you cannot.
+
+QUEEN: We will dwell here for ever in endless joy.
+
+ZOON (_looking down_): All dead now, all the Princes.
+
+QUEEN: Turn, my Prince, from the dream of Earth, lest trouble come up
+from it.
+
+ZOON: It cannot drift up here; yet we will turn from the dream.
+
+QUEEN: Let us think of endless joy upon the edge of heaven.
+
+ZOON: Yes, Queen; for ever in reality while all else dream away.
+
+QUEEN: It is the years that make them drowsy. They dream to dream the
+years away. Time cannot reach so high as here, the years are far below
+us.
+
+ZOON: Far below us, making a dream and troubling it.
+
+QUEEN: They do not know in the dream that only love is real.
+
+ZOON: If time could reach us here we should pass, too. Nothing is real
+where time is.
+
+QUEEN: How shall we spend the calm that time does not vex, together here
+for ever?
+
+ZOON: Holding your hand. (_She gives it._) And kissing it often in the
+calm of eternity. Sometimes watching, a moment, the dream go by; then
+kissing your hand again all in eternity.
+
+QUEEN: And never wearying?
+
+ZOON: Not while eternity lingers here in heaven.
+
+QUEEN: Thus we will live until the dream goes by and Earth has faded
+under Aether Mountain.
+
+ZOON: And then we shall watch the calm of Eternity.
+
+QUEEN: And you will still kiss my hand at times.
+
+ZOON: Yes, while eternity wiles Heaven away.
+
+QUEEN: The silence is like music on Aether Mountain.
+
+ZOON: It is because all is real. In the dream nothing was real. Music
+had to be made and then soon passed trembling away. Here all things
+always are as the desire of Earth, Earth's desire that groped among
+fantasies finding them false.
+
+QUEEN: Let us forget the dream.
+
+ZOON (_kissing her hand_): I have forgotten for ever.
+
+QUEEN: Ah!
+
+ZOON: What trouble has drifted up to you from Earth?
+
+QUEEN: An old saying.
+
+ZOON: It was said in the dream.
+
+QUEEN: It was true!
+
+[_She snatches her hand away._
+
+Ah, I remember it. It was true.
+
+ZOON: All is unreal but love, my crowned Zoomzoomarma. Where there was
+not love it cannot have been true.
+
+[_He tries to take her hand again._
+
+QUEEN: Touch not my hand. It was true.
+
+ZOON: What was the saying heard in the dream of Earth that was true?
+
+QUEEN: None is worthy to touch my hand; no, none.
+
+ZOON: By Aether Mountain, I will kiss your hand again! What is this
+saying out of a dream that dares deny reality?
+
+QUEEN: It is true! Oh, it is true!
+
+ZOON: Out of that hurried, aimless dream, that knows not its own end
+even, you have brought me a saying and say it against love.
+
+QUEEN: I say it is true!
+
+ZOON: Nothing is true against love. Fate only is greater.
+
+QUEEN: Then it is Fate.
+
+ZOON: Against Fate I will kiss your hand again.
+
+QUEEN: None are worthy. No, none.
+
+[_She draws her rapier._
+
+ZOON: I will kiss your hand again.
+
+QUEEN: It must be this (_pointing with rapier_) for none are worthy.
+
+ZOON: Though it be death I kiss your hand again.
+
+QUEEN: It is certain death.
+
+ZOON: Oh, Zoomzoomarma, forget that troubled dream, and things said by
+dreamers, while I kiss your hand in heaven if only once again.
+
+QUEEN: None are worthy. It is death. None are worthy. None.
+
+ZOON: Though it be death, yet once again upon Aether Mountain in heaven
+I kiss your hand.
+
+QUEEN: Away! It is death. Upon the word of a Queen.
+
+ZOON: I kiss your h ...
+
+[_She standing kills him kneeling. He falls off Aether Mountain, behind
+it out of sight._
+
+[_As he falls he calls her name after intervals. She kneels upon the
+summit and watches him falling, falling, falling._
+
+[_Fainter and fainter as he falls from that tremendous height comes up
+her name as he calls it._
+
+Zoomzoomarma! Zoomzoomarma! Zoomzoomarma!
+
+[_Still she is watching and he is falling still._
+
+[_At last when his cry of_ ZOOMZOOMARMA _comes almost unheard to that
+incredible height and then is heard no more, she turns, and with
+infinite neatness picking up her skirts steps down daintily over the
+snow._
+
+[_She is going Earthward as the curtain falls._
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+CHEEZO
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+SLADDER, _a successful man_.
+SPLURGE, _his secretary and publicity agent_.
+THE REV. CHARLES HIPPANTHIGH.
+BUTLER.
+MRS. SLADDER.
+ERMYNTRUDE SLADDER.
+
+
+
+SCENE
+
+_The big house that_ SLADDER _has bought in the country._ SLADDER'S
+_study. Large French window opening on to a lawn._
+
+_Time: Now._
+
+SLADDER'S _daughter is seated in an armchair tapping on the arm of it a
+little impatiently._
+
+_The door opens very cautiously, and the head of_ MRS. SLADDER _is put
+round it._
+
+MRS. SLADDER: O, Ermyntrude. Whatever are you doing here?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: I wanted to speak to father, mother.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: But you mustn't come in here. We mustn't disturb father.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: I want to speak to father.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Whatever about, Ermyntrude?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE (_taps the arm of the chair_): O, nothing, mother. Only about
+that idea of his.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: What idea, child?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, that idea he had, that--er--I was some day to marry a
+duke.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: And why shouldn't you marry a duke, child? I am sure
+father would make it worth his while.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O well, I don't think I want to, mother.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: But why not, Ermyntrude?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O well, you know Mr. Jones----
+
+MRS. SLADDER: That good man!
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: ----did say that dukes were no good, mother. They oppress
+the poor, I think he said.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Very true.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Well, there you are.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Yes, yes, of course. At the same time, father had rather
+set his heart on it. You wouldn't have any other reason now, child,
+would you?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: What more do you want, mother? Mr. Jones is a Cabinet
+Minister; he must know what he's talking about.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Yes, yes.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: And I hear he's going to get a peerage.
+
+MRS. SLADDER (_with enthusiasm_): Well, I'm sure he deserves it. But
+child, you mustn't talk to father to-day. You mustn't stay here any
+longer.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But why not, mother?
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Well, child, he's been smoking one of those big cigars
+again, and he's absent-like. And he's been talking a good deal with Mr.
+Splurge. It's one of his great days, I think, Ermyntrude. I feel sure it
+is. One of those days that has given us all this money, and all these
+fine houses, with all those little birds that his gentlemen friends
+shoot. He has an idea!
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, mother, do you really think so?
+
+MRS. SLADDER: I'm sure of it, child. (_Looking out._) There! There he
+is! Walking along that path that they made. I can see he's got an idea.
+How like Napoleon.[*] He's walking with Mr. Splurge. They're coming in
+now. Come along, Ermyntrude, we mustn't disturb him to-day. He has some
+great idea, some great idea.
+
+[Footnote *: (N.B.--SLADDER _is not in the very least like Napoleon._)]
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: How splendid, mother! What do you think it is?
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Ah. I could never explain it to you, even if I knew. It is
+business, child, business. It isn't everybody that can understand
+business.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: I hear them coming, mother.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: There must be things we can never understand: things too
+deep for us like. And business is the most wonderful of them all.
+
+[_Exeunt R._
+
+[_Enter_ SLADDER _and_ SPLURGE _through the window, which opens on to
+the lawn, down a step or two._
+
+SLADDER: Now, Splurge, we must do some business.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Sit down, Splurge.
+
+SPLURGE: Thank you, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Splurge, I am going to say to you now, what I couldn't talk
+about with all those gardeners hanging about. And, by the way, Splurge,
+haven't we bought rather too many gardeners?
+
+SPLURGE: No, sir. The Earl of Etheldune has seven; we had to go one
+better than him, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Certainly, Splurge, certainly.
+
+SPLURGE: So I bought ten for you, sir, to be on the safe side.
+
+SLADDER: Ah, quite right, Splurge, quite right. There seemed to be
+rather a lot, but that's quite right. Well, now to business.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir.
+
+SLADDER: I told you I'd invented a new name for a food.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir. Cheezo.
+
+SLADDER: Well, what have you been able to do about it?
+
+SPLURGE: I've had some nice little posters done, sir. I'm having it well
+written up. I've got some samples here, and it looks like doing very
+well indeed.
+
+SLADDER: Ah!
+
+SPLURGE: It's a grand name, if I may say so, sir. It sounds so
+classical-like with that "O" at the end; and yet anyone can see what
+it's derived from, even if he's never learnt anything. It suggests
+cheese to them every time.
+
+SLADDER: Let's see your samples.
+
+SPLURGE: Well, sir, here's one. (_Brings paper from pocket. Reads._)
+"What is Cheezo? Go where you may, speak with whom you will, the same
+question confronts you. Cheezo is the great new----"
+
+SLADDER: No, Splurge. Cut that question bit. We must have no admission
+on our part that there's anyone who doesn't know what Cheezo is. Cut it.
+
+SPLURGE: You're quite right, sir; you're quite right. That's a weak bit.
+I'll cut it. (_He scratches it out. Reads._) "Cheezo is the great new
+food. It builds up body and brain."
+
+SLADDER: That's good.
+
+SPLURGE: "There is a hundred times more lactic fluid in an ounce of
+Cheezo than in a gallon of milk."
+
+SLADDER: What's lactic fluid, Splurge?
+
+SPLURGE: I don't know, sir, but it's good stuff all right. It's the
+right thing to have in it. It's a good man that I got to write this.
+
+SLADDER: All right. Go on.
+
+SPLURGE: "Cheezo makes darling baby grow."
+
+SLADDER: Good. Very good. Very good indeed, Splurge.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, I think that catches them, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Go on.
+
+SPLURGE: "Cheezo. The only food."
+
+SLADDER: "The only food"? I don't like that.
+
+SPLURGE: It will go down all right, sir, so long as the posters are big
+enough.
+
+SLADDER: Go down all right! I wasn't fool enough to suppose that it
+wouldn't go _down_ all right. What are posters for if the public doesn't
+believe them? Of course it will go _down_ all right.
+
+SPLURGE: O, I beg your pardon, sir. Then what don't you quite like about
+it?
+
+SLADDER: I might invent another food one of these days, and then where
+should we be?
+
+SPLURGE: I hadn't thought of that, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Out with it.
+
+SPLURGE: (_Scratches with pencil_). "Cheezo is made out of the purest
+milk from purest English cows."
+
+SLADDER: Y-e-s, y-e-s. I don't say you're wrong. I don't say you're
+exactly wrong. But in business, Splurge, you want to keep more to
+generalities. Talk about the bonds that bind the Empire, talk about the
+Union Jack, talk by all means about the purity of the English cow; but
+definite statements you know, definite statements----
+
+SPLURGE: O, yes, I know, sir; but the police never interfere with
+anything one puts on a poster. It would be bad for business, a jury
+would never convict, and----
+
+SLADDER: I didn't say they would; but if some interfering ass were to
+write to the papers to say that Cheezo wasn't made from milk, we should
+have to go to the expense of buying a dozen cows, and photographing
+them, and one thing and another. (_He gets up and goes to cupboard._)
+Now, look here. I quite understand what you say, purity and all that,
+and a very good point too, but you look at this.
+
+[_He unrolls a huge poster representing a dairymaid smirking in deadly
+earnest. On it is printed: "WON'T YOU HAVE SOME?" and on another part of
+the poster "CHEEZO FOR PURITY."_
+
+You see. Your whole point's there. We state nothing and we can make the
+dairymaid as suggestive as we like.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir, that is excellent. Quite splendid.
+
+SLADDER: They shall look at that on every road and railway, where it
+enters every town in England. I'll have it on the cliffs of Dover. It
+shall be the first thing they see when they come back home, and the last
+thing for them to remember when they leave England. I'll have it
+everywhere. I'll rub their noses in it. And then, Splurge, they'll ask
+for Cheezo when they want cheese, and that will mean I shall have the
+monopoly of all the cheese in the world.
+
+SPLURGE: You're a great man, sir.
+
+SLADDER: I'll be a greater one, Splurge. I'm not past work yet. What
+more have you got?
+
+SPLURGE: I've rather a nice little poster being done, sir. A boy and a
+girl looking at one another with a rather knowing look. There's a large
+query mark all over the girl's dress. Then over the top in big letters
+I've put: "What is the secret?" and in smaller letters: "I've got a bit
+of Cheezo." It _makes_ people look at it, the children's faces are so
+wicked.
+
+SLADDER: Good, Splurge. Very good. I'll have that one. I'll rub their
+noses in that one.
+
+SPLURGE: Then I've got some things for the Press. (_Reads._) "She:
+'Darling.' He: 'Yes, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget, darling.' He: 'No,
+wifey.' She: 'You won't forget to bring me some of that excellent
+Cheezo, so nutritious, so nice for darling baby, to be had at all
+grocers; but be sure that you find the name of Sladder on their
+well-known pink wrappers.' He: 'Certainly, wifey.'" Just the usual
+thing, sir, of course; only I have a very good little picture to go with
+it, very suggestive indeed; I've made all the arrangements with the
+Press and the bill-posters, sir. I think we'll make a big thing of it,
+sir.
+
+SLADDER: Well, Splurge, nothing remains to be done now, except to make
+the Cheezo.
+
+SPLURGE: How do you think of doing it, sir?
+
+SLADDER: Do you know how they kill pigs in Chicago? No, you've not
+travelled yet. Well, they get their pigs on a slide, one man cuts their
+throats as fast as they go by, another shaves their bristles, and so on,
+and so on; one man for each job, and all at it at once; they do it very
+expeditiously. Well, there's an interfering fellow sent there by the
+Government (we wouldn't stand him in England), and if a pig has a sign
+of tuberculosis on him he won't let that pig go down. Now you'd think
+that pig was wasted. He isn't. He goes into soap. Now, Splurge, how many
+cakes of soap were used in the world last year?
+
+SPLURGE (_getting up_): Last year? I don't think we have the figures in
+for last year yet, sir.
+
+[_He goes to bookshelf._
+
+SLADDER: Well, the year before will do.
+
+SPLURGE: (_taking book and turning pages_): The figures are given, I
+think, sir, from the 1st of March to the 1st of March.
+
+SLADDER: That will do.
+
+SPLURGE: Ah, here it is, sir. Soap statistics for the twelve months
+ending 1st of March this year. A hundred and four million users, using
+on an average twenty cakes each per year. Then there are partial users,
+and occasional users. The total would be about twenty-one hundred
+million, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Pure waste, Splurge, all pure waste.
+
+SPLURGE: Waste, sir?
+
+SLADDER: Pure waste. What do you suppose becomes of all that soap, all
+that good fat? Proteids, I think they call 'em. And proteids are _good_
+for you, Splurge.
+
+SPLURGE: What _becomes_ of them, sir? They're used up.
+
+SLADDER: No, Splurge. They disappear, I grant you. They float away. But
+they're still there Splurge, they're still there. All that good fat is
+somewhere.
+
+SPLURGE: But--but, sir--but--In the drains, sir?
+
+SLADDER: All those million of cakes of soap. There must be tons of it,
+Splurge. And we'll _get_ it.
+
+SPLURGE: You are a wonderful man, sir.
+
+SLADDER: O, I've a few brains, Splurge. That anyone might have. But I
+use mine, that's all. There's cleverer people than me in the world----
+
+SPLURGE: No, sir.
+
+SLADDER: O, yes, there are. Lots of them. But they're damned fools. And
+why? 'Cause they don't use their brains. They mess about learning Greek.
+Greek! Can you believe it? What good does Greek ever do them?... But the
+money's not made yet, Splurge.
+
+SPLURGE: I'm having it well advertised, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Not so fast. What if they won't eat it?
+
+SPLURGE: O, they'll eat it all right when it's advertised, sir. They eat
+everything that's advertised.
+
+SLADDER: What if they can't eat it, Splurge?
+
+SPLURGE: Can't, sir?
+
+SLADDER: Send for my daughter.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir. (_He rises and goes to the door._)
+
+SLADDER: The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of some
+damned place. A million of money will be won or lost in this house in
+five minutes.
+
+SPLURGE: In this house, sir?
+
+SLADDER: Yes, in Ermyntrude's sitting-room. Send for her.
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Miss Sladder! Miss Sladder!
+
+ERMYNTRUDE (_off_): Yes, Mr. Splurge.
+
+SPLURGE: Would you come to the study, miss, Mr. Sladder wants to speak
+to you.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, yes, Mr. Splurge.
+
+SLADDER: The test! The test!
+
+[_Re-enter_ SPLURGE.
+
+SPLURGE: Miss Sladder is coming, sir.
+
+SLADDER: The test!
+
+[_Enter_ ERMYNTRUDE.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: What is it, father?
+
+SLADDER: How are your white mice, child?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Quite well, father, both of them.
+
+Sladder (_draws a box from his pocket, takes out a little bit of
+cheese_): Give them that, Ermyntrude.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: That, father. What is it?
+
+SLADDER: Cheese.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: May I have a bit?
+
+SLADDER: No, don't touch it!
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Very well, father.
+
+SLADDER: If they eat it, you shall have----
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: What, father?
+
+SLADDER: Anything, everything. Only go and give them the cheese.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: All right, father.
+
+[_She moves to the door R., she looks round, then goes out by the French
+window instead._
+
+SLADDER: Why are you going that way, child?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O--er--I thought it would be nice to go round over the lawn,
+father. I can get in by the drawing-room.
+
+SLADDER: O, very well. Be quick, dear.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: All right, father.
+
+[_The magnet that has attracted_ ERMYNTRUDE _to the lawn now appears in
+the form of_ MR. HIPPANTHIGH, _passing the window on his way to the
+hall-door._ SLADDER _and_ SPLURGE _do not see him, having their backs to
+the window._ ERMYNTRUDE _looks round now and then to be sure of this.
+They hold hands longer than is laid down as necessary in books upon
+etiquette under the head of visiting. She gives him a look of glad and
+hopeful interrogation but he shakes his head solemnly, and passes
+gravely on, as one whose errand is no cheerful duty. She looks after
+him, then goes her way._
+
+SLADDER: Well, Splurge, we can only wait. (_With emphasis._) If these
+mice eat it----
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir?
+
+SLADDER: The public will eat it.
+
+SPLURGE: Ah!
+
+SLADDER: Any other business to-day?
+
+SPLURGE: O, only the cook, sir. He's complaining about the vegetables,
+sir. He says he's never been anywhere before where they didn't buy them.
+We get them out of the kitchen garden here, and it seems he doesn't
+understand it. Says he won't serve a greengrocer, sir.
+
+SLADDER: A kitchen garden is the wrong thing, is it?
+
+SPLURGE: He says so, sir.
+
+SLADDER: But there was one here when we came.
+
+SPLURGE: O, only country people, sir. I suppose they didn't know any
+better.
+
+SLADDER: Well, where do people grow vegetables, then?
+
+SPLURGE: I asked the cook that, sir, and he said they don't grow them,
+they buy them.
+
+SLADDER: O, all right, then. Let him buy them, then. We must do the
+right thing.
+
+[_The hall-door bell rings._
+
+SLADDER: Hullo! Who's ringing my bell?
+
+SPLURGE: That was the hall-door, wasn't it, sir?
+
+SLADDER: Yes. What are they ringing it for?
+
+[_Enter_ BUTLER.
+
+BUTLER: Mr. Hippanthigh has called to see you, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Called to see me! What about?
+
+BUTLER: He didn't inform me, sir.
+
+SLADDER: I say, Splurge, have I got to see him?
+
+SPLURGE: I think so, sir. I think they call on one another like that in
+the country.
+
+SLADDER: Good lord, whatever for? (_To_ BUTLER.) O, yes. I'll see him,
+I'll see him.
+
+BUTLER: Very good, sir, I'll inform him so, sir.
+
+[_Exit._
+
+SLADDER: I say, Splurge, I suppose I've got to have a butler, and all
+that, eh?
+
+SPLURGE: O, yes, sir. One at least. It's quite necessary.
+
+SLADDER: You--you couldn't have bought me a cheerfuller one now, could
+you?
+
+SPLURGE: I'm afraid not, sir. If you were to take all this too
+lightheartedly, the other landowners would hardly like it, you know.
+
+SLADDER: O, well! O, well! What kind of man is this Hippanthigh that's
+coming?
+
+SPLURGE: He's the man that quarrels with the bishop, sir.
+
+SLADDER: O, the curate. O, yes. I've heard about him. He's been here
+before, I think. Lawn tennis.
+
+[_Enter_ BUTLER.
+
+BUTLER: Mr. Hippanthigh, sir.
+
+[_Enter_ HIPPANTHIGH. _Exit_ BUTLER.
+
+SLADDER: How do you do, Mr. Hippanthigh? How do you do? Pleased to see
+you.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I wished to speak with you, Mr. Sladder, if you will permit
+me.
+
+SLADDER: Certainly, Mr. Hippanthigh, certainly. Take a chair.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Thank you, sir. I think I would sooner stand.
+
+SLADDER: Please yourself. Please yourself.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I wished to speak with you alone, sir.
+
+SLADDER: Alone, eh? Alone? (_Aside to_ SPLURGE.) It's usual, eh? (_To_
+HIPPANTHIGH.) Alone, of course, yes. You've come to call, haven't you.
+(_Exit_ SPLURGE.) Can I offer you--er, er--calling's not much in my
+line, you know--but what I mean is--will you have a bottle of champagne?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Mr. Sladder, I've come to speak with you because I believe
+it to be my duty to do so. I have hesitated to come, but when for
+particular reasons it became most painful to me to do so, then I knew
+that it was my clear duty, and I have come.
+
+SLADDER: O, yes, what they call a duty call. O, yes, quite so. Yes,
+exactly.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Mr. Sladder, many of my parishioners are acquainted with
+the thing that you sell as bread. (_From the moment of_ HIPPANTHIGH'S
+_entry till now_ SLADDER, _over-cheerful and anxious, has been
+struggling to do and say the right thing through all the complications
+of a visit; but now that the note of Business has been sounded he
+suddenly knows where he is and becomes alert and stern, and all there._)
+
+SLADDER: What? Virilo?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Yes. They pay more for it than they pay for bread, because
+they've been taught somehow, poor fools, that "they must have the best."
+They've been made to believe that it makes them, what they call virile,
+poor fools, and they're growing ill on it. Not so ill that I can prove
+anything, and the doctor daren't help me.
+
+SLADDER: Are you aware, Mr. Hippanthigh, that if you said in public what
+you're saying to me, you would go to prison for it, unless you can run
+to the very heavy fine--damages would be enormous.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I know that, Mr. Sladder, and so I have come to you as the
+last hope for my people.
+
+SLADDER: Are you aware, Mr. Hippanthigh, that you are making an attack
+upon business? I don't say that business is as pure as a surplice. But I
+do say that in business it is--as you may not understand--get on or go
+under; and without my business, or the business of the next man, who is
+doing his best to beat me, what would happen to trade? I don't know
+what's going to happen to England if you get rid of her trade, Mr.
+Hippanthigh.... Well?... When we're broke because we've been doing
+business with surplices on, what are the other countries going to do,
+Mr. Hippanthigh? Can you answer me that?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: No, Mr. Sladder.
+
+SLADDER: Ah! So I've got the best of you?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Yes, Mr. Sladder. I'm not so clever as you.
+
+SLADDER: Glad you admit the point. As for cleverness it isn't that I've
+so much of that, but I use what I've got. Well, have you anything more
+to say?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Only to appeal to you, Mr. Sladder, on behalf of these poor
+people.
+
+SLADDER: Why. But you admitted one must have business, and that it can't
+be run like a tea-party. What more do you want?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I want you to spare them, Mr. Sladder.
+
+SLADDER: Spare them? Spare them? Why, what's the matter with them? I'm
+not killing them.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: No, Mr. Sladder, you're not killing them. The mortality
+among children's a bit on the high side, but I wouldn't say that was
+entirely due to your bread. There's a good many minor ailments among the
+grown-up people, it seems to attack their digestion mostly, one can't
+trace each case to its source; but their health and their teeth aren't
+what they were when they had the pure wheaten bread.
+
+SLADDER: But there _is_ wheat in my bread, prepared by a special
+process.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Ah! It's that special process that does it, I expect.
+
+SLADDER: Well, they needn't buy it if it isn't good.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Ah, they can't help themselves, poor fools; they've been
+taught to do it from their childhood up. Virilo, Bredo and Weeto, that
+are all so much better than bread, it's a choice between these three.
+Bread is never advertised, or God's good wheat.
+
+SLADDER: Mr. Hippanthigh, if I'm too much of a fool to sell my goods I
+suffer for it; if they're such fools as to buy my Virilo, they suffer
+for it--that is to say, you say they do--that is a natural law that may
+be new to you. But why should I suffer more than them? Besides, if I
+take my Virilo off the market just to oblige you, Mr. Hippanthigh, a
+little matter of L30,000 a year----
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I--er----
+
+SLADDER: O, don't mention it. Any little trifle to oblige! But if I did,
+up would go the sales of Bredo and Weeto (which have nothing to do with
+my firm), and your friends wouldn't be any better for that let me tell
+you, for I happen to know how _they're_ made.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I am not speaking of the wickedness of others. I come to
+appeal to you, Mr. Sladder, that for nothing that _you_ do, our English
+race shall lose anything of its ancient strength, in its young men in
+their prime, or that they should grow infirm a day sooner than God
+intended, when He planned his course for man.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE (_off_): Father! Father!
+
+[SLADDER _draws himself up, and stands erect to meet the decisive news
+that he has expected._
+
+[_Enter_ ERMYNTRUDE.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Father! The mice have eaten the cheese.
+
+SLADDER: Ah! The public will---- O! (_He has suddenly seen_
+HIPPANTHIGH).
+
+HIPPANTHIGH (_solemnly_): What new wickedness is this, Mr. Sladder?
+(_All stand silent._) Good-bye, Mr. Sladder.
+
+[_He goes to the door, passing_ ERMYNTRUDE. _He looks at her and sighs
+as he goes. He passes_ MRS. SLADDER _near the door, and bows in
+silence._
+
+[_Exit._
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: What have you been saying to Mr. Hippanthigh, father?
+
+SLADDER: Saying! He's been doing all the saying. He doesn't let you do
+much saying, does Hippanthigh.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, father. What did he come to see you about?
+
+SLADDER: He came to call your poor old father all kinds of bad names, he
+did. It seems your old father is a wicked fellow, Ermyntrude.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, father, I'm sure he never meant it.
+
+[HIPPANTHIGH _goes by the window with a mournful face._ ERMYNTRUDE _runs
+to the window and watches him till he is out of sight. She quietly waves
+her hand to_ HIPPANTHIGH, _unseen by her father._
+
+SLADDER: O, he meant it all right. He meant it. I'm sorry for that
+bishop of his that he quarrels with, if he lets him have it the way he
+went for your poor old father. O, dear me; dear me.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: I don't think he quarrels with him, father. I think he only
+insists that there can be no such thing as eternal punishment. I think
+that's rather nice of him.
+
+SLADDER: I don't care a damn about eternal punishment one way or the
+other. But a man who quarrels with the head of his firm's a fool. If his
+bishop's keen on hell, he should push hell for all it's worth.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Y-e-s, I suppose he should. But, father, aren't you glad
+that my mice have eaten the new cheese? I thought you'd be glad, father.
+
+SLADDER: So I am, child. So I am. Only I don't feel quite so glad as I
+thought I was going to, now. I don't know why. He seems to have stroked
+me the wrong way somehow.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: You said you'd give me whatever I liked.
+
+SLADDER: And so I will, child. So I will. A motor if you like, with
+chauffeur and footman complete. We can buy anything now, and I wouldn't
+grudge----
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: I don't want a motor, father.
+
+SLADDER: What would you like to have?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, nothing, father, nothing. Only about that duke,
+father----
+
+SLADDER: What duke, Ermyntrude?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Mother said you wanted me to marry a duke some day, father.
+
+SLADDER: Well?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Well I--er--I don't think I quite want to, father.
+
+SLADDER: Ah! Quite so. Quite so. Quite so. And who _did_ you think of
+marrying?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, father.
+
+SLADDER: Well? (ERMYNTRUDE _is silent._) When I was his age, I had to
+work hard for my living.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, father. How do you know what age he is?
+
+SLADDER: O, I guessed he was 82, going to be 83 next birthday. But I
+daresay I know nothing of the world. I daresay I may have been wrong.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, father, he's young.
+
+SLADDER: Dear me, you don't say so. Dear me, you do surprise me. Well,
+well, well, well. We do live and learn. Don't we? And what might his
+name be now?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: It's Mr. Hippanthigh, father.
+
+SLADDER: O-o-o! It's Mr. Hippanthigh, is it? O-ho, O-ho! (_He touches a
+movable bell, shouting_ "SPLURGE!" _To his daughter or rather to
+himself._) We'll see Mr. Hippanthigh.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: What are you going to do, father?
+
+SLADDER: We'll see Mr. Hippanthigh. (_Enter_ SPLURGE.) Splurge, run
+after Mr. Hippanthigh and bring him back. Say I've got something to say
+to him. He's gone that way. Quick!
+
+SPLURGE: Yes, sir. [_Exit._
+
+SLADDER: I've got something to say to _him_ this time.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Father! What are you going to do?
+
+SLADDER: I'm going to give him What For.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But why, father?
+
+SLADDER: Because he's been giving it to your poor old father.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Father----
+
+SLADDER: Well?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Be kind to him, father.
+
+SLADDER: O, _I'll_ be kind to him. I'll be _kind_ to him. Just you wait.
+I'll be _kind_ to him!
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But you wouldn't send him away, father. Father, for my sake
+you wouldn't do that?
+
+SLADDER: O, we haven't _come_ to that yet.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, but--you've sent for him.
+
+SLADDER: O, I've sent for him to give him What For. We'll come to the
+rest later.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, when you do come to it, father.
+
+SLADDER: Why, when we do come to it, if the young man's any good, I'll
+not stand in my daughter's way----
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, thank you, father.
+
+SLADDER: And if he's no good (_firmly_) I'll protect my child from him.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, father, I don't want to be protected.
+
+SLADDER: If a man's a man, he must be some good at something. Well, this
+man's chosen the clergyman job. I've nothing against the job, it's well
+enough paid at the top, but is this young man ever going to get there?
+Is he ever going to get off the bottom rung? How long has he been a
+curate?
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Eight years, father.
+
+SLADDER: It's a long time.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, father, he would get a vicarage if it wasn't for the
+bishop. The bishop stands in his way. It isn't nice of him.
+
+SLADDER: If I'd quarrelled with the head of my firm when I was his age,
+you wouldn't be getting proposals from a curate; no such luck. The
+dustman would have been more in your line.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: But, father, he doesn't quarrel with the bishop. His
+conscience doesn't let him believe in eternal punishment, and so he
+speaks straight out. I do admire him so for it. He knows that if he was
+silent he'd have had a good living long ago.
+
+SLADDER: The wife of the head of my firm believed in spirit rapping. Did
+I go and tell her what an old fool she was? No, I brought her messages
+from another world as regular as a postman.
+
+[_Steps are heard outside the window._
+
+SLADDER: Run along, my dear, now.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Very well, father.
+
+SLADDER: The man that's going to look after my daughter must be able to
+look after himself. Otherwise _I_ will, till a better man comes.
+
+[_Exit_ ERMYNTRUDE. HIPPANTHIGH _and_ SPLURGE _appear at the window._
+HIPPANTHIGH _enters and_ SPLURGE _moves away._
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: You sent for me, Mr. Sladder?
+
+SLADDER: Y-e-s--y-e-s. Take a chair. Now, Mr. Hippanthigh, I haven't
+often been told off the way you told me off.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I felt it to be my duty, Mr. Sladder.
+
+SLADDER: Yes, quite so. Exactly. Well, it seems I'm a thoroughly bad old
+man, only fit to rob the poor, an out-and-out old ruffian.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I never said that.
+
+SLADDER: No. But you made me feel it. I never felt so bad about myself
+before, not as bad as that. But you, Mr. Hippanthigh, you were the
+high-falutin' angel with a new brass halo, out on its bank holiday. Now,
+how would clandestine love-making strike you, Mr. Hippanthigh? Would
+that be all right to your way of thinking?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Clandestine, Mr. Sladder? I hardly understand you.
+
+SLADDER: I understand that you have been making love to my daughter.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I admit it.
+
+SLADDER: Well, I haven't heard you say anything about it to me before.
+Did you tell her mother?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Er--no.
+
+SLADDER: Perhaps you told me. Very likely I've forgotten it.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: No.
+
+SLADDER: Well, who _did_ you tell?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: We--we hadn't told anyone yet.
+
+SLADDER: Well, I think clandestine's the word for it, Mr. Hippanthigh. I
+haven't had time in my life to bother about the exact[1] meanings of
+words or any nonsense of that sort, but I think clandestine's about the
+word for it.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: It's a hard word, Mr. Sladder.
+
+SLADDER: May be. And who began using hard words? You came here and made
+me out a pickpocket, just because I use a few tasty little posters which
+sell my goods, and all the while you're trying on the sly to take a poor
+old man's daughter away from him. Well, Mr. Hippanthigh?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I--I never looked at it in that light before, Mr. Sladder.
+I never thought of it in that way. You have made me feel ashamed (_he
+lowers his head_), ashamed.
+
+SLADDER: Aha! Aha! I thought I would. Now you know what it's like when
+you make people ashamed of themselves. You don't like it when they do it
+to you. Aha! (SLADDER _is immensely pleased with himself._)
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Mr. Sladder, I spoke to you as my conscience demanded, and
+you have shown me that I have done wrong in not speaking sooner about
+our engagement. I would have spoken to you, but I could not say that and
+the other thing in the same day. I meant to tell you soon;--well, I
+didn't, and I know it looks bad. I've done wrong and I admit it.
+
+SLADDER: Aha! (_Still hugely pleased._)
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: But, Mr. Sladder, you would not on that account perhaps
+spoil your daughter's happiness, and take a terrible revenge on me. You
+would not withhold your consent to our----
+
+SLADDER: Wait a moment; we're coming to that. There's some bad animal
+that I've heard of that lives in France, and when folks attack it it
+defends itself. I've just been defending myself. I think I've shown you
+that you're no brand-new extra-gilt angel on the top of a spire.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: O--I--er--never----
+
+SLADDER: Quite so. Well, now we come on to the other part. Very well.
+Those lords and people, they marry one another's daughters, because they
+know they're all no good. They're afraid it will get out like, and
+spread some of their damned mediaeval ideas where they'll do harm. So
+they keep it in the family like. But we people who have had the sense to
+look after ourselves, we don't throw our daughters away to any young man
+that can't look after himself. See?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I assure you, Mr. Sladder, I should--er----
+
+SLADDER: She's my only daughter, and if any of my grandchildren are
+going to the work-house, they'll go to one where the master's salary is
+high, and they'll go there as master.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I am aware, Mr. Sladder, that I have very little money; as
+you would look at it, very little.
+
+SLADDER: It isn't the amount of money you've got as matters. The
+question is this: are you a young man as money is any good to? If I died
+and left you a million, would you know what to do with it? I've met men
+what wouldn't last more than six weeks on a million. Then they'd starve
+if nobody gave them another million. I'm not going to give my daughter
+to one of that sort.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I was third in the classical tripos at Cambridge, Mr.
+Sladder.
+
+SLADDER: I don't give a damn for classics; and I don't give a damn for
+Cambridge; and I don't know what a tripos is. But all I can tell you is
+that if I was fool enough to waste my time with classics, third
+wouldn't[2] be good enough for me. No, Mr. Hippanthigh, you've chosen
+the church as your job, and I've nothing to say against your choice; its
+a free country, and I've nothing to say against your job; it's well
+enough paid at the top, only you don't look like getting there. I chose
+business as my job, there seemed more sense in it; but if I'd chosen the
+Church, I shouldn't have stuck as a curate. No, nor a bishop either. I
+wouldn't have had an archbishop ballyragging me and ordering me about.
+No. I'd have got to the top, and drawn big pay, and _spent_ it.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: But, Mr. Sladder, I could be a vicar to-morrow if my
+conscience would allow me to cease protesting against a certain point
+which the bishop holds to be----
+
+SLADDER: I know all about that. I don't care what it is that keeps you
+on the bottom rung of the ladder. Conscience, you say. Well, it's a
+different thing with every man. It's conscience with some, drink with
+others, sheer stupidity with most. It's pretty crowded already, that
+bottom rung, without me going and putting my daughter on it. Where do
+you suppose I'd be now if I'd let my conscience get in my way? Eh?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Mr. Sladder, I cannot alter my beliefs.
+
+SLADDER: Nobody asks you to. I only ask you to leave the bishop alone.
+He says one thing and you preach another whenever you get half a chance;
+it's enough to break up any firm.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Believing as I do that eternal punishment is incompatible
+with----
+
+SLADDER: Now, Mr. Hippanthigh, that's got to stop. I don't mind saying,
+now that I've given you What For, that you don't seem a bad young
+fellow: but my daughter's not going to marry on the bottom rung, and
+there's an end of that.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: But, Mr. Sladder, can you bring yourself to believe in
+anything so terrible as eternal punishment, so contrary to----
+
+SLADDER: Me? No.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: Then, how can you ask me to?
+
+SLADDER: That particular belief never happened to stand between me and
+the top of the tree. Many things did, but they're all down below me now,
+Mr. Hippanthigh, way down there (_pointing_) where I can hardly see
+them. You get off that bottom rung as I did years ago.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I cannot go back on all I've said.
+
+SLADDER: I don't want to make it hard for you. Only just say you believe
+in eternal punishment, and then give up talking about it. You may say it
+to me if you like. We'll have one other person present so that there's
+no going back on it, my daughter if you like. I'll let the bishop know,
+and he won't stand in your way any longer, but at present you force his
+hand. It's you or the rules of the firm.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I cannot.
+
+SLADDER: You can't just say to me and my daughter that you believe in
+eternal punishment, and leave me to go over to Axminster and put it
+right with the bishop?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I cannot say what I do not believe.
+
+SLADDER: Think. The bishop probably doesn't believe it himself. But
+you've been forcing his hand,--going out of your way to.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I cannot say it.
+
+SLADDER (_rising_): Mr. Hippanthigh, there's two kinds of men, those
+that succeed, those that don't. I know no other kind. You ...
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: I cannot go against my conscience.
+
+SLADDER: I don't care what your reason is. You are the second kind. I am
+sorry my daughter ever loved a man of that sort. I am sorry a man of
+that sort ever entered my house. I was a little, dirty, ragged boy. You
+make me see what I would be to-day if I had been a man of your kind. I
+would be dirty and ragged still. (_His voice has been rising during this
+speech._)
+
+[_Enter_ ERMYNTRUDE.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Father! What are you saying, father? I heard such loud
+voices.
+
+[HIPPANTHIGH _stands silent and mournful._
+
+SLADDER: My child, I had foolish ideas for you once, but now I say that
+you are to marry a man, not a wretched, miserable little curate, who
+will be a wretched, miserable little curate all his life.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: Father, I will not hear such words.
+
+SLADDER: I've given him every chance. I've given him more than every
+chance, but he prefers the bottom rung of the ladder; there we will
+leave him.
+
+ERMYNTRUDE: O, father! How can you be so cruel?
+
+SLADDER: It's not my fault, and it's not the bishop's fault. It's his
+own silly pig-headedness.
+
+[_He goes back to his chair._
+
+ERMYNTRUDE (_going up to_ HIPPANTHIGH): O, Charlie, couldn't you do what
+father wants?
+
+HIPPANTHIGH: No, no, I cannot. He wants me to go back on things I've
+said.
+
+[_Enter_ MRS. SLADDER _carrying a wire cage, with two dead white mice in
+it. Also_ SPLURGE.
+
+MRS. SLADDER[3]: O, the mice have died, John. The mice have died. O,
+Ermyntrude's poor mice! And father's great idea! Whatever shall we do?
+
+SLADDER: Er? (_Almost a groan_) Eh? Died have they?
+
+[SLADDER _ages in his chair. You would say he was beaten. Suddenly he
+tautens up his muscles and stands up straight with shoulders back and
+clenched hands._
+
+So they would beat Sladder, would they? They would beat Sladder. No,
+that has yet to be done. We'll go on, Splurge. The public shall eat
+Cheezo. It's a bit strong perhaps. We'll tone it down with bad nuts that
+they use for the other cheeses. We'll advertise it, and they'll eat it.
+See to it, Splurge. They don't beat Sladder.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: O, I'm so glad. I'm so glad, John.
+
+HIPPANTHIGH (_suddenly with clear emphasis_): I THINK I _DO_ BELIEVE IN
+ETERNAL PUNISHMENT.
+
+SLADDER: Ah. At last. Well, Ermyntrude, is your cruel old parent's
+blessing any use to you?
+
+[_He places one hand on her shoulder and one on_ HIPPANTHIGH'S.
+
+MRS. SLADDER: Why, Ermyntrude! Well, I never! And to think of all this
+happening in one day!
+
+[HIPPANTHIGH _is completely beaten._ ERMYNTRUDE _is smiling at him. He
+puts an arm round her shoulder in dead silence._
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+A GOOD BARGAIN
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+BROTHER ANTONINUS.
+BROTHER LUCULLUS SEVERUS.
+BROTHER GREGORIUS PEDRO.
+SATAN.
+SMOGGS.
+
+
+
+SCENE
+
+_A Crypt of a Monastery._ BROTHER GREGORIUS PEDRO _is seated on a stone
+bench reading. Behind him is a window._
+
+_Enter_ BROTHER LUCULLUS SEVERUS.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Brother, we may doubt no longer.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Well?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: It is certain. Certain.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: I too had thought so.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: It is clear now, clear as ... It is certain.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Well, why not? After all, why not?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: You mean...?
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: 'Tis but a miracle.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Yes, but ...
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: But you did not think to see one?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: No, no, not that; but Brother Antoninus ...
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Well, why not he? He is holy as any, fasts as often as
+any, wears coarser clothing than most of us, and once scourged a woman
+because she looked at our youngest--scourged her right willingly.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Yet, Brother Antoninus!
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Yet, why not?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: We knew him, somehow. One does not know the blessed
+saints of heaven.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: No, no indeed. I never thought to see such a thing on
+earth; and now, now ... you say it is certain?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Certain.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Ah, well. It seemed like it, it seemed like it for some
+days. At first I thought I had looked too long through our eastern
+window, I thought it was the sun that had dazzled my eyes; and then,
+then it was clearly something else.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: It is certain now.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Ah, well.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS (_sitting beside him, sighs_): I grudge him nothing.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO (_a little heavily_): No, nor I.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: You are sad, brother.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: No, not sad.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Ah, but I see it.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Ah, well.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: What grieves you, brother?
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: (_Sighs_) We shall water the roses no more, he and I.
+We shall roll the lawns no more. We shall tend the young tulips together
+never again.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Oh, why not? Why not? There is not all that
+difference.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: There is.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: It is our cross, brother. We must bear it.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Ah, yes. Yes, yes.
+
+[_A bell rings noisily._
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: The gate bell, brother! Be of good cheer, it is the
+gate bell ringing!
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Why should I be of good cheer because the gate bell
+rings?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Why, brother, the world is at the gate. We shall see
+someone. It is an event. Someone will come and speak of the great world.
+Oh, be of good cheer, be of good cheer, brother.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: I think that I am heavy at heart to-day.
+
+[_Enter_ JOHN SMOGGS.
+
+SMOGGS: Ullo, Governor. Is either o' yer the chief monk?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: The Reverend Abbot is not here.
+
+SMOGGS: 'Ain't, ain't 'e?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: But what do you seek, friend?
+
+SMOGGS: Want to know what you blokes are getting up to.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: We do not understand your angry zeal.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Tell us, friend.
+
+SMOGGS: One o' yer is playing games no end, and we won't 'ave it.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Games?
+
+SMOGGS: Well, miracles if you like it better, and we won't 'ave it, nor
+any of your 'igh church games nor devices.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: What does he say, brother?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Friend, you perplex us. We hoped you would speak to us
+of the great world, its gauds, its wickedness, its----
+
+SMOGGS: We won't 'ave it. We won't 'ave none of it, that's all.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Tell us, friend, tell us what you mean. Then we will
+do whatever you ask. And then you shall speak to us of the world.
+
+SMOGGS: There 'e is, there 'e is, the blighter. There 'e is. 'E's
+coming. O Lord...!
+
+[_He turns and runs. Exit._
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: It's Antoninus!
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Why, yes; yes, of course!
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: He must have seen him over the garden wall.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: We must hush it up.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Hush it up?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: There must be no scandal in the monastery.
+
+[_Enter_ BROTHER ANTONINUS _wearing a halo. He walks across and exits._
+
+[GREGORIUS _is gazing with wide eyes._
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: There must be no scandal in the monastery.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: It has grown indeed!
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Yes, it has grown since yesterday.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: I noticed it dimly just three days ago. I noticed it
+dimly. But I did not---- I could not guess ... I never dreamed that it
+would come to this.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Yes, it has grown for three days.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: It was just a dim light over his head, but now...!
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: It flamed up last night.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: There is no mistaking it now.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: There must be _no scandal_.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: No scandal, brother?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Look how unusual it is. People will talk. You heard
+what that man said. They will all talk.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO (_sadly_): Ah, well.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: How could we face it.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: It is, yes, yes,--it is unusual.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Nothing like it has happened for many centuries.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO (_sadly_): No, no. I suppose not. Poor Antoninus.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Why could he not have waited?
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Waited? What? Three--three hundred years?
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: Or even five or ten. He is long past sixty.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Yes, yes, it would have been better.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: You saw how ashamed he was.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Poor Antoninus. Yes, yes. Brother, I think if we had
+not been here he would have come and sat on this bench.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: I think he would. But he was ashamed to come, looking,
+looking like that.
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Brother, let us go. It is the hour at which he loves to
+come and sit here, and read in the Little Book of Lesser Devices. Let us
+go so that he may come here and be alone.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS: As you will, brother; we must help him when we can.
+
+[_They rise and go._
+
+GREGORIUS PEDRO: Poor Antoninus.
+
+LUCULLUS SEVERUS (_glancing_): I think he will come back now.
+
+[_Exeunt. The bare, sandaled foot of_ ANTONINUS _appears as the last
+heel lifts in the other doorway._
+
+[_Enter_ ANTONINUS _rather timidly. He goes to bench and sits. He sighs.
+He shakes his head to loosen the halo, but in vain. He sighs. Then he
+opens his book and reads in silence. Silence gives way to mumbles,
+mumbles to words._[4]
+
+ANTONINUS: ... and finally beat down Satan under our feet.
+
+[_Enter_ SATAN. _He has the horns and long hair and beard of a he-goat.
+His face and voice are such as could have been once in heaven._
+
+ANTONINUS (_standing, lifting arm_): In the name of ...
+
+SATAN: Banish me not.
+
+ANTONINUS: In the name ...
+
+SATAN: Say nothing you may regret, until I have spoken.
+
+ANTONINUS: In the ...
+
+SATAN: Hear me.
+
+ANTONINUS: Well?
+
+SATAN: There fell with me from heaven a rare, rare spirit, the light of
+whose limbs far outshone dawn and evening.
+
+ANTONINUS: Well?
+
+SATAN: We dwell in darkness.
+
+ANTONINUS: What is that to me?
+
+SATAN: For that rare spirit I would have the gaud you wear, that
+emblem, that bright ornament. In return I offer you----
+
+ANTONINUS: Begone----
+
+SATAN: I offer you----
+
+ANTONINUS: Begone.
+
+SATAN: I offer you--Youth.
+
+ANTONINUS: I will not traffic with you in damnation.
+
+SATAN: I do not ask your soul, _only that shining gaud_.
+
+ANTONINUS: Such things are not for hell.
+
+SATAN: I offer you Youth.
+
+ANTONINUS: I do not need it. Life is a penance and ordained as a
+tribulation. I have come through by striving. Why should I care to
+strive again?
+
+SATAN (_smiles_): Why?
+
+ANTONINUS: Why should I?
+
+SATAN (_laughs, looking through window_): It's spring, brother, is it
+not?
+
+ANTONINUS: A time for meditation.
+
+SATAN (_laughs_): There are girls coming over the hills, brother.
+Through the green leaves and the May.
+
+[ANTONINUS _draws his scourge from his robe._
+
+ANTONINUS: Up! Let me scourge them from our holy place.
+
+SATAN: Wait, brother, they are far off yet. But you would not scourge
+them, you would not scourge them, they are so ... Ah! one has torn her
+dress!
+
+ANTONINUS: Ah, let me scourge her!
+
+SATAN: No, no, brother. See, I can see her ankle through the rent. You
+would not scourge her. Your great scourge would break that little ankle.
+
+ANTONINUS: I will have my scourge ready, if she comes near our holy
+place.
+
+SATAN: She is with her comrades. They are maying. Seven girls.
+(ANTONINUS _grips his scourge._) Her arms are full of may.
+
+ANTONINUS: Speak not of such things. Speak not, I say.
+
+[SATAN _is leaning leisurely against the wall, smiling through the
+window._
+
+SATAN: How the leaves are shining. Now she is seated on the grass. They
+have gathered small flowers, Antoninus, and put them in her hair, a row
+of primroses.
+
+ANTONINUS (_his eyes go for a moment on to far, far places.
+Unintentionally_): What colour?
+
+SATAN: Black.
+
+ANTONINUS: No, no, no! I did not mean her hair. No, no. I meant the
+flowers.
+
+SATAN: Yellow, Antoninus.
+
+ANTONINUS (_flurried_): Ah, of course, yes, yes.
+
+SATAN: Sixteen and seventeen and fifteen, and another of sixteen. All
+young girls. The age for you, Antoninus, if I make you twenty. Just the
+age for you.
+
+ANTONINUS: You--you cannot.
+
+SATAN: All things are possible unto me except salvation.
+
+ANTONINUS: How?
+
+SATAN: Give me your gaud. Then meet me at any hour between star-shining
+and cock-crow under the big cherry tree, when the moon is waning.
+
+ANTONINUS: Never.
+
+SATAN: Ah, Spring, Spring. They are dancing. Such nimble ankles.
+
+[ANTONINUS _raises his scourge._
+
+SATAN (_more gravely_): Think, Antoninus, forty or fifty more Springs.
+
+ANTONINUS: Never, never, never.
+
+SATAN: And no more striving next time. See Antoninus, see them as they
+dance, there with the may behind them under the hill.
+
+ANTONINUS: Never! I will not look.
+
+SATAN: Ah, look at them, Antoninus. Their sweet figures. And the warm
+wind blowing in Spring.
+
+ANTONINUS: Never! My scourge is for such.
+
+[SATAN _sighs. The girls laugh from the hill._ ANTONINUS _hears the
+laughter._
+
+_A look of fear comes over him._
+
+ANTONINUS: Which ... (_a little peal of girlish laughter off_). Which
+cherry tree did you speak of?
+
+SATAN: This one over the window.
+
+ANTONINUS (_with an effort_): It shall be held accursed. I will warn the
+brethren. It shall be cut down and hewn asunder and they shall burn it
+utterly.
+
+SATAN (_rather sorrowfully_): Ah, Antoninus.
+
+ANTONINUS: You shall not tempt a monk of our blessed order.
+
+SATAN: They are coming this way, Antoninus.
+
+ANTONINUS: What! What!
+
+SATAN: Have your scourge ready, Antoninus.
+
+ANTONINUS: Perhaps, perhaps they have not merited extreme chastisement.
+
+SATAN: They have made a garland of may, a long white garland drooped
+from their little hands. Ah, if you were young, Antoninus.
+
+ANTONINUS: Tempt me not, Satan. I say, tempt me not!
+
+[_The girls sing_, SATAN _smiles, the girls sing on._ ANTONINUS
+_tip-toes to seat, back to window, and sits listening. The girls sing
+on. They pass the window and shake the branch of a cherry tree. The
+petals fall in sheets past the window. The girls sing on and_ ANTONINUS
+_sits listening._
+
+ANTONINUS (_hand to forehead_): My head aches. I think it is that
+song.... Perhaps, perhaps it is the halo. Too heavy, too heavy for _us_.
+
+[SATAN _walks gently up and removes it and walks away with the gold
+disc._ ANTONINUS _sits silent._
+
+SATAN: When the moon is waning.
+
+[_Exit. More petals fall past the window. The song rings on._ ANTONINUS
+_sits quite still, on his face a new ecstacy._
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+IF SHAKESPEARE LIVED TO-DAY
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+SIR WEBLEY WOOTHERY-JURNIP} _Members of the_
+MR. NEEKS                 } _Olympus_.
+
+JERGINS, _an old waiter_.
+
+MR. TRUNDLEBEN, _Secretary of the Club_.
+
+MR. GLEEK, _Editor of the "Banner and Evening
+Gazette" and member of the Olympus_.
+
+
+
+SCENE
+
+_A room in the Olympus Club._
+
+_Time: After luncheon._
+
+SIR WEBLEY WOOTHERY-JURNIP _and_ MR. NEEKS _sit by a small table.
+Further away sits_ MR. GLEEK, _the Editor of the "Banner and Evening
+Gazette."_ SIR WEBLEY JURNIP _rises and rings the bell by the
+fire-place. He returns to his seat._
+
+MR. NEEKS: I see there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare putting up
+for the Club.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Shakespeare? I once knew a man
+called Shaker.
+
+NEEKS: No, it's Shakespeare--Mr. William Shakespeare.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Do _you_ know anything about him?
+
+NEEKS: Well, I don't exactly recall--I made sure that you----
+
+SIR WEBLEY: The Secretary ought to be more careful. Waiter!
+
+JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley. [_He comes._
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Coffee, Jergins. Same as usual.
+
+JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And, Jergins--there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare
+putting up for the Club.
+
+JERGINS: I'm sorry to hear that, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, Jergins. Well, there it is, you see; and I want you to
+go up and ask Mr. Trundleben if he'd come down.
+
+JERGINS: Certainly, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And then get my coffee.
+
+JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley.
+
+[_He goes slowly away._
+
+NEEKS: He'll be able to tell us all about him.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: At the same time he should be more careful.
+
+NEEKS: I'm afraid--I'm afraid he's getting rather, rather old.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Oh, I don't know, he was seventy only the other day. I don't
+call that too old--nowadays. He can't be now, he can't be more than, let
+me see, seventy-eight. Where does this Mr. Shaker live?
+
+NEEKS: Shakespeare. Somewhere down in Warwickshire. A village called
+Bradford, I think, is the address he gives in the Candidates' Book.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Warwickshire! I do seem to remember something about him now.
+If he's the same man I certainly do. William Shakespeare, you said.
+
+NEEKS: Yes, that's the name.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, I certainly have heard about him now you mention it.
+
+NEEKS: Really! And what does he do?
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Do? Well, from what I heard he poaches.
+
+NEEKS: Poaches!
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, a poacher. Trundleben deserves to get the sack for
+this. A poacher from the wilds of Warwickshire. I heard all about him.
+He got after the deer at Charlecote.
+
+NEEKS: A poacher!
+
+SIR WEBLEY: That's all he is, a poacher. A member of the Olympus! He'll
+be dropping in here one fine day with other people's rabbits in his
+pockets.
+
+[_Enter_ JERGINS.
+
+JERGINS: Your coffee, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: My coffee. I should think so. (_He sips it._) One needs it.
+
+JERGINS: Mr. Trundleben will be down at once, Sir Webley. I telephoned
+up to him.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Telephoned! Telephoned! The Club's getting more full of
+new-fangled devices every day. I remember the time when---- Thank you,
+Jergins.
+
+[JERGINS _retires._
+
+This is a pretty state of things, Neeks.
+
+NEEKS: A pretty state of things indeed, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Ah, here's Trundleben.
+
+NEEKS: He'll tell us all about it, Sir Webley. I'm sure he'll----
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Ah, Trundleben. Come and sit down here. Come and----
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Thank you, Sir Webley. I think I will. I don't walk quite as
+well as I used, and what with----
+
+SIR WEBLEY: What's all this we hear about this Mr. Shakespeare,
+Trundleben?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, ah, well yes, yes indeed. Well, you see, Sir Webley, he
+was put up for the Club. Mr. Henry put him up.
+
+SIR WEBLEY (_disapprovingly_): Oh, Mr. Henry.
+
+NEEKS: Yes, yes, yes. Long hair and all that.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: I'm afraid so.
+
+NEEKS: Writes poetry, I believe.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: I'm afraid so.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well then, what does Mr. Newton do but go and second him,
+and there you are, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, a pretty state of things. Has he ... Does he ... What
+is he?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: He seems to write, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Oh, he does, does he? What does he write?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, I wrote and asked him that, Sir Webley, and _he_ said
+plays.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Plays? Plays? Plays? I'm sure I never heard ... What plays?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I asked him that, Sir Webley, and he said ... he sent me a
+list (_fumbling_). Ah, here it is.
+
+[_He holds it high, far from his face, tilts his head back and looks
+down his nose through his glasses._
+
+He says--let me see--"Hamelt," or "Hamlet," I don't know how he
+pronounces it. "Hamelt, Hamlet"; he spells it "H-a-m-l-e-t." If you
+pronounce it the way one pronounces handle, it would be "Hamelt," but
+if----
+
+SIR WEBLEY: What's it all about?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, I gathered the scene was in Denmark.
+
+NEEKS: Denmark! H'm! another of those neutrals!
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, I wouldn't so much mind where the scene of the play
+was put, if only it was a play one ever had heard of.
+
+NEEKS: But those men who have much to do with neutrals are rather the
+men--don't you think, Sir Webley?--who ...
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Who want watching. I believe you're right, Neeks. And that
+type of unsuccessful play-wright is just the kind of man I always
+rather ...
+
+NEEKS: That's rather what I feel, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: It wouldn't be a bad plan if we told somebody about him.
+
+NEEKS: I think I know just the man, Sir Webley. I'll just drop him a
+line.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, and if he's all right there's no harm done, but I
+always suspect that kind of fellow. Well, what else, Trundleben? This is
+getting interesting.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, Sir Webley, it's really very funny, but he sent me a
+list of the characters in this play of his, "Hamelt," and, and it's
+really rather delicious----
+
+NEEKS: Yes?
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes? What is it?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: He's got a _ghost_ in his play. (_He-he-he-he-he_) A ghost!
+He really has.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: What! Not on the stage?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, on the stage!
+
+NEEKS: Well, well, well.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: But that's absurd.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I met Mr. Vass the other day--it was his four hundredth
+presentation of "The Nighty"--and I told him about it. He said that
+bringing a ghost on the stage was, of course--er--ludicrous.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: What else does he say he's done?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Er--er--there's an absurdly long list--er--"Macbeth."
+
+SIR WEBLEY: "Macbeth." That's Irish.
+
+NEEKS: Ah, yes. Abbey Theatre style of thing.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I think I heard he offered it them. But of course----
+
+SIR WEBLEY: No, quite so.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I gathered it was all rather a--rather a sordid story.
+
+SIR WEBLEY (_solemnly_): Ah!
+
+[NEEKS[5] _with equal solemnity wags his head._
+
+TRUNDLEBEN (_focussing his list again_): Here's a very funny one. This
+is funnier than "Hamlet." "The Tempest." And the stage directions are
+"The sea, with a ship."
+
+SIR WEBLEY (_laughs_): Oh, that's lovely! That's really too good. The
+sea with a ship! And what's it all about?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, I rather gathered that it was about a magician, and
+he--he makes a storm.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: He makes a storm. Splendid! On the stage, I suppose.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh yes, on the stage.
+
+[SIR WEBLEY _and_ NEEKS[6] _laugh heartily._
+
+NEEKS: He'd ... He'd have to be a magician for that, wouldn't he?
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Ha, ha! Very good! He'd have to be a magician to do that,
+Trundleben.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, indeed, Sir Webley; indeed he would, Mr. Neeks.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: But that stage direction is priceless. I'd really like to
+copy that down if you'd let me. What is it? "The sea with a ship"? It's
+the funniest bit of the lot.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, that's it, Sir Webley. Wait a moment, I have it here.
+The--the whole thing is "the sea with a ship, afterwards an island."
+Very funny indeed.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: "Afterwards an island"! That's very good, too. "Afterwards
+an island." I'll put that down also. (_He writes._) And what else,
+Trundleben? What else?
+
+[TRUNDLEBEN _holds out his list again._
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: "The Tragedy of--of King Richard the--the Second."
+
+SIR WEBLEY: But _was_ his life a tragedy? _Was_ it a tragedy, Neeks?
+
+NEEKS: I--I--well I'm not quite sure; I really don't think so. But I'll
+look it up.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, we can look it up.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I think it was rather--perhaps _rather_ tragic, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Oh, I don't say it wasn't. No doubt. No doubt at all. That's
+one thing. But to call his whole life a tragedy is--is quite another.
+What, Neeks?
+
+NEEKS: Oh, quite another.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley. Tragedy is--er--is a very strong
+term indeed, to--to apply to such a case.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: He was probably out poaching when he should have been
+learning his history.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And what else, eh? Anything more?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, there are some poems, he says.
+
+[_Holds up a list._
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And what are they about?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, there's one called ... Oh. I'd really rather not
+mention that one; perhaps that had better be left out altogether.
+
+NEEKS: Not...?
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Not quite...?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: No, not at all.
+
+SIR WEBLEY and NEEKS: H'm.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Left out altogether. And then there are "Sonnets," and--and
+"Venus and Adonis," and--and "The Phoenix and the Turtle."
+
+SIR WEBLEY: The Phoenix and the what?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: The Turtle.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Oh. Go on ...
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: One called "The Passionate Pilgrim," another "A Lover's
+Complaint."
+
+SIR WEBLEY: I think the whole thing's very regrettable.
+
+NEEKS: I think so too, Sir Webley.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN (_mournfully_): And there've been no poets since poor
+Browning died, none at all. It's absurd for him to call himself a poet.
+
+NEEKS: Quite so, Trundleben, quite so.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And all these plays. What does he mean by calling them
+plays? They've never been acted.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well--er--no, not exactly acted, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: What do you mean by not exactly, Trundleben?
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Well, I believe they were acted in America, though of course
+not in London.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: In America? What's that got to do with it. America? Why,
+that's the other side of the Atlantic.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, yes, Sir Webley, I--I quite agree with you.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: America! I daresay they did. I daresay they did act them.
+But that doesn't make him a suitable member for the Olympus. Quite the
+contrary.
+
+NEEKS: Oh, quite the contrary.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley, certainly.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: I daresay "Macbeth" would be the sort of thing that would
+appeal to Irish Americans. _Just_ the sort of thing.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Very likely, Sir Webley, I'm sure.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Their game laws are very lax, I believe, over there; they
+probably took to him on account of his being a poacher.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I've no doubt of it, Sir Webley. Very likely.
+
+NEEKS: I expect that was just it.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well now, Trundleben; are we to ask the Olympus to elect a
+man who'll come in here with his pockets bulging with rabbits.
+
+NEEKS: Rabbits, and hares too.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And venison even, if you come to that.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Yes indeed, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Thank God the Olympus can get its haunch of venison without
+having to go to a man like that for it.
+
+NEEKS: Yes indeed.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Indeed I hope so.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well now, about those plays. I don't say we've absolute
+proof that the man's entirely hopeless. We must be sure of our ground.
+
+NEEKS: Yes, quite so.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, I'm afraid Sir Webley, they're very bad indeed. There
+are some quite unfortunate--er--references in them.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: So I should have supposed. So I should have supposed.
+
+NEEKS: Yes, yes, of course.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: For instance, in that play about that funny ship--I have a
+list of the characters here--and I'm afraid, well--er,--er you see for
+yourself. (_Hands paper._) You see that is, I am afraid, in very bad
+taste, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Certainly, Trundleben, certainly. Very bad indeed.
+
+NEEKS (_peering_): Er--er, what is it, Sir Webley?
+
+SIR WEBLEY (_pointing_): That, you see.
+
+NEEKS: A--a drunken butler! But most regrettable.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: A very deserving class. A--a quite gratuitous slight. I
+don't say you mightn't see one drunken butler ...
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Quite so.
+
+NEEKS: Yes, of course.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: But to put it boldly on a programme like that is practically
+tantamount to implying that all butlers are drunken.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Which is by no means true.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: There would naturally be a protest of some sort, and to have
+a member of the Olympus mixed up with a controversy like that would
+be--er--naturally--er--most ...
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Yes, of course, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: And then of course, if he does a thing like that once ...
+
+NEEKS: There are probably other lapses just as deplorable.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: I haven't gone through his whole list, Sir Webley. I often
+feel about these modern writers that perhaps the less one looks the less
+one will find that might be, er ...
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, quite so.
+
+NEEKS: That is certainly true.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, we can't wade all through his list of characters to
+see if they are all suitable to be represented on a stage.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh no, Sir Webley, quite impossible; there are--there are--I
+might say--hundreds of them.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Good gracious! He must have been wasting his time a great
+deal.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Oh, a great deal, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: But we shall have to go further into this. We can't have ...
+
+NEEKS: I see Mr. Gleek sitting over there, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Why, yes, yes, so he is.
+
+NEEKS: The _Banner and Evening Gazette_ would know all about him if
+there's anything to know.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, of course they would.
+
+NEEKS: If we were to ask him.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, Trundleben, you may leave it to us. Mr. Neeks and I
+will talk it all over and see what's to be done.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Thank you, Sir Webley. I'm really very sorry it all
+happened--very sorry indeed.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Very well, Trundleben, we'll see what's to be done. If
+nothing's known of him and his plays, you'll have to write and request
+him to withdraw his candidature. But we'll see. We'll see.
+
+TRUNDLEBEN: Thank you, Sir Webley. I'm sure I'm very sorry it all
+occurred. Thank you, Mr. Neeks.
+
+[_Exit_ TRUNDLEBEN, _waddling slowly away._
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, Neeks, that's what it will have to be. If nothing
+whatever's known of him we can't have him putting up for the Olympus.
+
+NEEKS: Quite so, Sir Webley. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention.
+
+[_He begins to rise, hopefully looking Gleek-wards, when_ JERGINS _comes
+between him and_ MR. GLEEK. _He has come to take away the coffee._
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Times are changing, Jergins.
+
+JERGINS: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Changing fast, and new members putting up for the Club.
+
+JERGINS: Yes, I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: You notice it too, Jergins.
+
+JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley, it's come all of a sudden. Only last week I
+saw ...
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, Jergins.
+
+JERGINS: I saw Lord Pondleburrow wearing a ...
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Wearing what, Jergins?
+
+JERGINS: Wearing one of those billycock hats, Sir Webley.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, well. I suppose they've got to change, but not at that
+rate.
+
+JERGINS: No, Sir Webley.
+
+[EXIT, _shaking his head as he goes._
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Well, we must find out about this fellow.
+
+NEEKS: Yes. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention. He knows all about that
+sort of thing.
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Yes, yes. Just ...
+
+[NEEKS _rises and goes some of the way towards_ GLEEK'S _chair._
+
+NEEKS: Er--er----
+
+GLEEK (_looking round_): Yes?
+
+SIR WEBLEY: Do you know anything of a man called Mr. William
+Shakespeare?
+
+GLEEK (_looking over his pince-nez_): No!
+
+[_He shakes his head several times and returns to his paper._
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+FAME AND THE POET
+
+
+_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_
+
+HARRY DE REVES, _a Poet_.
+
+(_This name, though of course of French origin, has
+become anglicised and is pronounced_ DE REEVS.)
+
+DICK PRATTLE, _a Lieutenant-Major of the Royal Horse
+Marines_.
+
+FAME.
+
+
+
+SCENE
+
+_The Poet's rooms in London. Windows in back. A high screen in a
+corner._
+
+_Time: February 30th._
+
+_The_ POET _is sitting at a table writing._
+
+[_Enter_ DICK PRATTLE.
+
+PRATTLE: Hullo, Harry.
+
+DE REVES: Hullo, Dick. Good Lord, where are you from?
+
+PRATTLE (_casually_): The ends of the earth.
+
+DE REVES: Well, I'm damned!
+
+PRATTLE: Thought I'd drop in and see how you were getting on.
+
+DE REVES: Well, that's splendid. What are you doing in London?
+
+PRATTLE: Well, I wanted to see if I could get one or two decent ties to
+wear--you can get nothing out there--then I thought I'd have a look and
+see how London was getting on.
+
+DE REVES: Splendid! How's everybody?
+
+PRATTLE: All going strong.
+
+DE REVES: That's good.
+
+PRATTLE (_seeing paper and ink_): But what are you doing?
+
+DE REVES: Writing.
+
+PRATTLE: Writing? I didn't know you wrote.
+
+DE REVES: Yes, I've taken to it rather.
+
+PRATTLE: I say--writing's no good. What do you write?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, poetry.
+
+PRATTLE: Poetry! Good Lord!
+
+DE REVES: Yes, that sort of thing, you know.
+
+PRATTLE: Good Lord! Do you make any money by it?
+
+DE REVES: No. Hardly any.
+
+PRATTLE: I say--why don't you chuck it?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, I don't know. Some people seem to like my stuff, rather.
+That's why I go on.
+
+PRATTLE: I'd chuck it if there's no money in it.
+
+DE REVES: Ah, but then it's hardly in your line, is it? You'd hardly
+approve of poetry if there _was_ money in it.
+
+PRATTLE: Oh, I don't say that. If I could make as much by poetry as I
+can by betting I don't say I wouldn't try the poetry touch, only----
+
+DE REVES: Only what?
+
+PRATTLE: Oh, I don't know. Only there seems more sense in betting,
+somehow.
+
+DE REVES: Well, yes. I suppose it's easier to tell what an earthly horse
+is going to do, than to tell what Pegasus----
+
+PRATTLE: What's Pegasus?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, the winged horse of poets.
+
+PRATTLE: I say! You don't believe in a winged horse, do you?
+
+DE REVES: In our trade we believe in all fabulous things. They all
+represent some large truth to us. An emblem like Pegasus is as real a
+thing to a poet as a Derby winner would be to you.
+
+PRATTLE: I say. (Give me a cigarette. Thanks.) What? Then you'd believe
+in nymphs and fauns, and Pan, and all those kind of birds?
+
+DE REVES: Yes. Yes. In all of them.
+
+PRATTLE: Good Lord!
+
+DE REVES: You believe in the Lord Mayor of London, don't you?
+
+PRATTLE: Yes, of course; but what has----
+
+DE REVES: Four million people or so made him Lord Mayor, didn't they?
+And he represents to them the wealth and dignity and tradition of----
+
+PRATTLE: Yes; but, I say, what has all this----
+
+DE REVES: Well, he stands for an idea to them, and they made him Lord
+Mayor, and so he is one....
+
+PRATTLE: Well, of course he is.
+
+DE REVES: In the same way Pan has been made what he is by millions; by
+millions to whom he represents world-old traditions.
+
+PRATTLE (_rising from his chair and stepping backwards, laughing and
+looking at the_ POET _in a kind of assumed wonder_): I say ... I say ...
+You old heathen ... but Good Lord ...
+
+[_He bumps into the high screen behind, pushing it back a little._
+
+DE REVES: Look out! Look out!
+
+PRATTLE: What? What's the matter?
+
+DE REVES: The screen!
+
+PRATTLE: Oh, sorry, yes. I'll put it right.
+
+[_He is about to go round behind it._
+
+DE REVES: No, don't go round there.
+
+PRATTLE: What? Why not?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, you wouldn't understand.
+
+PRATTLE: Wouldn't understand? Why, what have you got?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, one of those things.... You wouldn't understand.
+
+PRATTLE: Of course I'd understand. Let's have a look.
+
+[_The_ POET _walks towards_ PRATTLE _and the screen. He protests no
+further._ PRATTLE _looks round the corner of the screen._
+
+An altar.
+
+DE REVES (_removing the screen altogether_): That is all. What do you
+make of it?
+
+[_An altar of Greek design, shaped like a pedestal, is revealed. Papers
+litter the floor all about it._
+
+PRATTLE: I say--you always were an untidy devil.
+
+DE REVES: Well, what do you make of it?
+
+PRATTLE: It reminds me of your room at Eton.
+
+DE REVES: My room at Eton?
+
+PRATTLE: Yes, you always had papers all over your floor.
+
+DE REVES: Oh, yes----
+
+PRATTLE: And what are these?
+
+DE REVES: All these are poems; and this is my altar to Fame.
+
+PRATTLE: To Fame?
+
+DE REVES: The same that Homer knew.
+
+PRATTLE: Good Lord!
+
+DE REVES: Keats never saw her. Shelley died too young. She came late at
+the best of times, now scarcely ever.
+
+PRATTLE: But, my dear fellow, you don't mean that you think there really
+is such a person?
+
+DE REVES: I offer all my songs to her.
+
+PRATTLE: But you don't mean you think you could actually _see_ Fame?
+
+DE REVES: We poets personify abstract things, and not poets only but
+sculptors[7] and painters too. All the great things of the world are
+those abstract things.
+
+PRATTLE: But what I mean is, they're not really there, like you or me.
+
+DE REVES: To us these things are more real than men, they outlive
+generations, they watch the passing of kingdoms: we go by them like
+dust; they are still there, unmoved, unsmiling.
+
+PRATTLE: But, but, you can't think that you could _see_ Fame, you don't
+expect to _see_ it?
+
+DE REVES: Not to me. Never to me. She of the golden trumpet and Greek
+dress will never appear to me.... We all have our dreams.
+
+PRATTLE: I say--what have you been doing all day?
+
+DE REVES: I? Oh, only writing a sonnet.
+
+PRATTLE: Is it a long one?
+
+DE REVES: Not very.
+
+PRATTLE: About how long is it?
+
+DE REVES: About fourteen lines.
+
+PRATTLE (_impressively_): I tell you what it is.
+
+DE REVES: Yes?
+
+PRATTLE: I tell you what. You've been overworking yourself. I once got
+like that on board the Sandhurst, working for the passing-out exam. I
+got so bad that I could have seen anything.
+
+DE REVES: Seen anything?
+
+PRATTLE: Lord, yes; horned pigs, snakes with wings; anything; one of
+your winged horses even. They gave me some stuff called bromide for it.
+You take a rest.
+
+DE REVES: But my dear fellow, you don't understand at all. I merely said
+that abstract things are to a poet as near and real and visible as one
+of your bookmakers or barmaids.
+
+PRATTLE: I know. You take a rest.
+
+DE REVES: Well, perhaps I will. I'd come with you to that musical comedy
+you're going to see, only I'm a bit tired after writing this; it's a
+tedious job. I'll come another night.
+
+PRATTLE: How do you know I'm going to see a musical comedy?
+
+DE REVES: Well, where would you go? _Hamlet_'s[8] on at the Lord
+Chamberlain's. You're not going there.
+
+PRATTLE: Do I look like it?
+
+DE REVES: No.
+
+PRATTLE: Well, you're quite right. I'm going to see "The Girl from
+Bedlam." So long. I must push off now. It's getting late. You take a
+rest. Don't add another line to that sonnet; fourteen's quite enough.
+You take a rest. Don't have any dinner to-night, just rest. I was like
+that once myself. So long.
+
+DE REVES: So long.
+
+[_Exit_ PRATTLE. DE REVES _returns to his table and sits down._
+
+Good old Dick! He's the same as ever. Lord, how time passes.
+
+_He takes his pen and his sonnet and makes a few alterations._
+
+Well, that's finished. I can't do any more to it.
+
+[_He rises and goes to the screen; he draws back part of it and goes up
+to the altar. He is about to place his sonnet reverently at the foot of
+the altar amongst his other verses._
+
+No, I will not put it there. This one is worthy of the altar.
+
+[_He places the sonnet upon the altar itself._
+
+If that sonnet does not give me fame, nothing that I have done before
+will give it to me, nothing that I ever will do.
+
+[_He replaces the screen and returns to his chair at the table. Twilight
+is coming on. He sits with his elbow on the table, his head on his hand,
+or however the actor pleases._
+
+Well, well. Fancy seeing Dick again. Well, Dick enjoys his life, so he's
+no fool. What was that he said? "There's no money in poetry. You'd
+better chuck it." Ten years' work and what have I to show for it? The
+admiration of men who care for poetry, and how many of _them_ are there?
+There's a bigger demand for smoked glasses to look at eclipses of the
+sun. Why should Fame come to me? Haven't I given up my days for her?
+That is enough to keep her away. I am a poet; that is enough reason for
+her to slight me. Proud and aloof and cold as marble, what does Fame
+care for us? Yes, Dick is right. It's a poor game chasing illusions,
+hunting the intangible, pursuing dreams. Dreams? Why, we are ourselves
+dreams.
+
+[_He leans back in his chair._
+
+                 We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made on, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep.
+
+[_He is silent for a while. Suddenly he lifts his head._
+
+My room at Eton, Dick said. An untidy mess.
+
+[_As he lifts his head and says these words, twilight gives place to
+broad daylight, merely as a hint that the author of the play may have
+been mistaken, and the whole thing may have been no more than a poet's
+dream._
+
+So it was, and it's an untidy mess there (_looking at screen_) too.
+Dick's right. I'll tidy it up. I'll burn the whole damned heap,
+
+[_He advances impetuously towards the screen._
+
+every damned poem that I was ever fool enough to waste my time on.
+
+[_He pushes back the screen._ FAME _in a Greek dress with a long golden
+trumpet in her hand is seen standing motionless on the altar like a
+marble goddess._
+
+So ... you have come!
+
+[_For a while he stands thunderstruck. Then he approaches the altar._
+
+Divine fair lady, you have come.
+
+[_He holds up his hand to her and leads her down from the altar and into
+the centre of the stage. At whatever moment the actor finds it most
+convenient, he repossesses himself of the sonnet that he had placed on
+the altar. He now offers it to_ FAME.
+
+This is my sonnet. Is it well done?
+
+[FAME _takes it and reads it in silence, while the_ POET _watches her
+rapturously._
+
+FAME: You're a bit of all right.
+
+DE REVES: What?
+
+FAME: Some poet.
+
+DE REVES: I--I--scarcely ... understand.
+
+FAME: You're IT.
+
+DE REVES: But ... it is not possible ... are you she that knew Homer?
+
+FAME: Homer? Lord, yes. Blind old bat, 'e couldn't see a yard.
+
+DE REVES: O Heavens!
+
+[FAME _walks beautifully to the window. She opens it and puts her head
+out._
+
+FAME (_in a voice with which a woman in an upper storey would cry for
+help if the house was well alight_): Hi! Hi! Boys! Hi! Say, folks! Hi!
+
+[_The murmur of a gathering crowd is heard._ FAME _blows her trumpet._
+
+FAME: Hi, he's a poet! (_Quickly, over her shoulder._) What's your name?
+
+DE REVES: De Reves.
+
+FAME: His name's de Reves.
+
+DE REVES: Harry de Reves.
+
+FAME: His pals call him Harry.
+
+THE CROWD: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
+
+FAME: Say, what's your favourite colour?
+
+DE REVES: I ... I ... I don't quite understand.
+
+FAME: Well, which do you like best, green or blue?
+
+DE REVES: Oh--er--blue.
+
+[_She blows her trumpet out of the window._
+
+No--er--I think green.
+
+FAME: Green is his favourite colour.
+
+THE CROWD: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
+
+FAME: 'Ere, tell us something. They want to know all about yer.
+
+DE REVES: Wouldn't[9] you perhaps ... would they care to hear my sonnet,
+if you would--er ...
+
+FAME (_picking up quill_): Here, what's this?
+
+DE REVES: Oh, that's my pen.
+
+FAME (_after another blast on her trumpet_): He writes with a quill.
+
+[_Cheers from the_ CROWD.
+
+FAME (_going to a cupboard_): Here, what have you got in here?
+
+DE REVES: Oh ... er ... those are my breakfast things.
+
+FAME (_finding a dirty plate_): What have yer had on this one?
+
+DE REVES (_mournfully_): Oh, eggs and bacon.
+
+FAME (_at the window_): He has eggs and bacon for breakfast.
+
+THE CROWD: Hip hip hip, _hooray!_
+Hip hip hip, _hooray!_
+Hip hip hip, _hooray!_
+
+FAME: Hi, and what's this?
+
+DE REVES (_miserably_): Oh, a golf stick.
+
+FAME: He's a man's man! He's a virile man! He's a manly man!
+
+[_Wild cheers from the_ CROWD, _this time only from women's voices._
+
+DE REVES: Oh, this is terrible. This is terrible. This is terrible.
+
+[FAME _gives another peal on her horn. She is about to speak._
+
+
+DE REVES (_solemnly and mournfully_): One moment, one moment ...
+
+FAME: Well, out with it.
+
+DE REVES: For ten years, divine lady, I have worshipped you, offering
+all my songs ... I find ... I find I am not worthy....
+
+FAME: Oh, you're all right.
+
+DE REVES: No, no, I am not worthy. It cannot be. It cannot possibly be.
+Others deserve you more. I must say it! _I cannot possibly love you._
+Others are worthy. You will find others. But I, no, no, no. It cannot
+be. It cannot be. Oh, pardon me, but it _must_ not.
+
+[_Meanwhile_ FAME _has been lighting one of his cigarettes. She sits in
+a comfortable chair, leans right back, and puts her feet right up on the
+table amongst the poet's papers._
+
+Oh, I fear I offend you. But--it cannot be.
+
+FAME: Oh, that's all right, old bird; no offence. I ain't going to leave
+you.
+
+DE REVES: But--but--but--I do not understand.
+
+FAME: I've come to stay, I have.
+
+[_She blows a puff of smoke through her trumpet_.
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: Footnotes indicate where typographical errors in
+the original edition have been corrected.]
+
+[Footnote 1: Corrected from "eaxct"]
+
+[Footnote 2: Corrected from "wouln't"]
+
+[Footnote 3: Corrected from "MRS. SPLURGE"]
+
+[Footnote 4: An unmatched parenthesis has been deleted]
+
+[Footnote 5: Corrected from "Neek"]
+
+[Footnote 6: Corrected from "Neek"]
+
+[Footnote 7: Corrected from "scuptors"]
+
+[Footnote 8: Corrected from "_Hamlet's_"]
+
+[Footnote 9: Corrected from "Wouln't"]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays of Near & Far, by Lord Dunsany
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