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+Project Gutenberg's How He Lied to Her Husband, by George Bernard Shaw
+
+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: How He Lied to Her Husband
+
+Author: George Bernard Shaw
+
+Posting Date: February 9, 2009 [EBook #3544]
+Release Date: November, 2002
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Eve Sobol
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND
+
+
+By George Bernard Shaw
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+Like many other works of mine, this playlet is a piece d'occasion. In
+1905 it happened that Mr Arnold Daly, who was then playing the part of
+Napoleon in The Man of Destiny in New York, found that whilst the play
+was too long to take a secondary place in the evening's performance, it
+was too short to suffice by itself. I therefore took advantage of four
+days continuous rain during a holiday in the north of Scotland to write
+How He Lied To Her Husband for Mr Daly. In his hands, it served its turn
+very effectively.
+
+I print it here as a sample of what can be done with even the most
+hackneyed stage framework by filling it in with an observed touch of
+actual humanity instead of with doctrinaire romanticism. Nothing in the
+theatre is staler than the situation of husband, wife and lover, or the
+fun of knockabout farce. I have taken both, and got an original play
+out of them, as anybody else can if only he will look about him for his
+material instead of plagiarizing Othello and the thousand plays that
+have proceeded on Othello's romantic assumptions and false point of
+honor.
+
+A further experiment made by Mr Arnold Daly with this play is worth
+recording. In 1905 Mr Daly produced Mrs Warren's Profession in New York.
+The press of that city instantly raised a cry that such persons as Mrs
+Warren are "ordure," and should not be mentioned in the presence
+of decent people. This hideous repudiation of humanity and social
+conscience so took possession of the New York journalists that the
+few among them who kept their feet morally and intellectually could do
+nothing to check the epidemic of foul language, gross suggestion,
+and raving obscenity of word and thought that broke out. The writers
+abandoned all self-restraint under the impression that they were
+upholding virtue instead of outraging it. They infected each other with
+their hysteria until they were for all practical purposes indecently
+mad. They finally forced the police to arrest Mr Daly and his company,
+and led the magistrate to express his loathing of the duty thus forced
+upon him of reading an unmentionable and abominable play. Of course the
+convulsion soon exhausted itself. The magistrate, naturally somewhat
+impatient when he found that what he had to read was a strenuously
+ethical play forming part of a book which had been in circulation
+unchallenged for eight years, and had been received without protest by
+the whole London and New York press, gave the journalists a piece of his
+mind as to their moral taste in plays. By consent, he passed the case
+on to a higher court, which declared that the play was not immoral;
+acquitted Mr Daly; and made an end of the attempt to use the law to
+declare living women to be "ordure," and thus enforce silence as to
+the far-reaching fact that you cannot cheapen women in the market for
+industrial purposes without cheapening them for other purposes as well.
+I hope Mrs Warren's Profession will be played everywhere, in season and
+out of season, until Mrs Warren has bitten that fact into the public
+conscience, and shamed the newspapers which support a tariff to keep
+up the price of every American commodity except American manhood and
+womanhood.
+
+Unfortunately, Mr Daly had already suffered the usual fate of those who
+direct public attention to the profits of the sweater or the pleasures
+of the voluptuary. He was morally lynched side by side with me. Months
+elapsed before the decision of the courts vindicated him; and even then,
+since his vindication implied the condemnation of the press, which was
+by that time sober again, and ashamed of its orgy, his triumph received
+a rather sulky and grudging publicity. In the meantime he had hardly
+been able to approach an American city, including even those cities
+which had heaped applause on him as the defender of hearth and home when
+he produced Candida, without having to face articles discussing whether
+mothers could allow their daughters to attend such plays as You Never
+Can Tell, written by the infamous author of Mrs Warren's Profession, and
+acted by the monster who produced it. What made this harder to bear was
+that though no fact is better established in theatrical business than
+the financial disastrousness of moral discredit, the journalists who had
+done all the mischief kept paying vice the homage of assuming that it
+is enormously popular and lucrative, and that I and Mr Daly, being
+exploiters of vice, must therefore be making colossal fortunes out of
+the abuse heaped on us, and had in fact provoked it and welcomed it with
+that express object. Ignorance of real life could hardly go further.
+
+One consequence was that Mr Daly could not have kept his financial
+engagements or maintained his hold on the public had he not accepted
+engagements to appear for a season in the vaudeville theatres [the
+American equivalent of our music halls], where he played How He Lied
+to Her Husband comparatively unhampered by the press censorship of
+the theatre, or by that sophistication of the audience through press
+suggestion from which I suffer more, perhaps, than any other author.
+Vaudeville authors are fortunately unknown: the audiences see what the
+play contains and what the actor can do, not what the papers have told
+them to expect. Success under such circumstances had a value both for Mr
+Daly and myself which did something to console us for the very unsavory
+mobbing which the New York press organized for us, and which was not the
+less disgusting because we suffered in a good cause and in the very best
+company.
+
+Mr Daly, having weathered the storm, can perhaps shake his soul free
+of it as he heads for fresh successes with younger authors. But I have
+certain sensitive places in my soul: I do not like that word "ordure."
+Apply it to my work, and I can afford to smile, since the world, on the
+whole, will smile with me. But to apply it to the woman in the street,
+whose spirit is of one substance with our own and her body no less holy:
+to look your women folk in the face afterwards and not go out and hang
+yourself: that is not on the list of pardonable sins.
+
+POSTSCRIPT. Since the above was written news has arrived from America
+that a leading New York newspaper, which was among the most abusively
+clamorous for the suppression of Mrs Warren's Profession, has just been
+fined heavily for deriving part of its revenue from advertisements of
+Mrs Warren's houses.
+
+Many people have been puzzled by the fact that whilst stage
+entertainments which are frankly meant to act on the spectators as
+aphrodisiacs, are everywhere tolerated, plays which have an almost
+horrifyingly contrary effect are fiercely attacked by persons and papers
+notoriously indifferent to public morals on all other occasions. The
+explanation is very simple. The profits of Mrs Warren's profession
+are shared not only by Mrs Warren and Sir George Crofts, but by the
+landlords of their houses, the newspapers which advertize them, the
+restaurants which cater for them, and, in short, all the trades to
+which they are good customers, not to mention the public officials
+and representatives whom they silence by complicity, corruption, or
+blackmail. Add to these the employers who profit by cheap female labor,
+and the shareholders whose dividends depend on it [you find such people
+everywhere, even on the judicial bench and in the highest places in
+Church and State], and you get a large and powerful class with a
+strong pecuniary incentive to protect Mrs Warren's profession, and a
+correspondingly strong incentive to conceal, from their own consciences
+no less than from the world, the real sources of their gain. These are
+the people who declare that it is feminine vice and not poverty that
+drives women to the streets, as if vicious women with independent
+incomes ever went there. These are the people who, indulgent or
+indifferent to aphrodisiac plays, raise the moral hue and cry against
+performances of Mrs Warren's Profession, and drag actresses to the
+police court to be insulted, bullied, and threatened for fulfilling
+their engagements. For please observe that the judicial decision in New
+York State in favor of the play does not end the matter. In Kansas City,
+for instance, the municipality, finding itself restrained by the courts
+from preventing the performance, fell back on a local bye-law against
+indecency to evade the Constitution of the United States. They summoned
+the actress who impersonated Mrs Warren to the police court, and offered
+her and her colleagues the alternative of leaving the city or being
+prosecuted under this bye-law.
+
+Now nothing is more possible than that the city councillors who suddenly
+displayed such concern for the morals of the theatre were either Mrs
+Warren's landlords, or employers of women at starvation wages, or
+restaurant keepers, or newspaper proprietors, or in some other more
+or less direct way sharers of the profits of her trade. No doubt it
+is equally possible that they were simply stupid men who thought that
+indecency consists, not in evil, but in mentioning it. I have, however,
+been myself a member of a municipal council, and have not found
+municipal councillors quite so simple and inexperienced as this. At all
+events I do not propose to give the Kansas councillors the benefit of
+the doubt. I therefore advise the public at large, which will finally
+decide the matter, to keep a vigilant eye on gentlemen who will stand
+anything at the theatre except a performance of Mrs Warren's Profession,
+and who assert in the same breath that [a] the play is too loathsome to
+be bearable by civilized people, and [b] that unless its performance
+is prohibited the whole town will throng to see it. They may be merely
+excited and foolish; but I am bound to warn the public that it is
+equally likely that they may be collected and knavish.
+
+At all events, to prohibit the play is to protect the evil which the
+play exposes; and in view of that fact, I see no reason for assuming
+that the prohibitionists are disinterested moralists, and that
+the author, the managers, and the performers, who depend for
+their livelihood on their personal reputations and not on rents,
+advertisements, or dividends, are grossly inferior to them in moral
+sense and public responsibility.
+
+It is true that in Mrs Warren's Profession, Society, and not any
+individual, is the villain of the piece; but it does not follow that
+the people who take offence at it are all champions of society. Their
+credentials cannot be too carefully examined.
+
+
+
+
+HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND
+
+It is eight o'clock in the evening. The curtains are drawn and the lamps
+lighted in the drawing room of Her flat in Cromwell Road. Her lover, a
+beautiful youth of eighteen, in evening dress and cape, with a bunch of
+flowers and an opera hat in his hands, comes in alone. The door is near
+the corner; and as he appears in the doorway, he has the fireplace on
+the nearest wall to his right, and the grand piano along the opposite
+wall to his left. Near the fireplace a small ornamental table has on it
+a hand mirror, a fan, a pair of long white gloves, and a little white
+woollen cloud to wrap a woman's head in. On the other side of the room,
+near the piano, is a broad, square, softly up-holstered stool. The room
+is furnished in the most approved South Kensington fashion: that is, it
+is as like a show room as possible, and is intended to demonstrate the
+racial position and spending powers of its owners, and not in the least
+to make them comfortable.
+
+He is, be it repeated, a very beautiful youth, moving as in a dream,
+walking as on air. He puts his flowers down carefully on the table
+beside the fan; takes off his cape, and, as there is no room on the
+table for it, takes it to the piano; puts his hat on the cape; crosses
+to the hearth; looks at his watch; puts it up again; notices the things
+on the table; lights up as if he saw heaven opening before him; goes to
+the table and takes the cloud in both hands, nestling his nose into its
+softness and kissing it; kisses the gloves one after another; kisses the
+fan: gasps a long shuddering sigh of ecstasy; sits down on the stool and
+presses his hands to his eyes to shut out reality and dream a little;
+takes his hands down and shakes his head with a little smile of rebuke
+for his folly; catches sight of a speck of dust on his shoes and hastily
+and carefully brushes it off with his handkerchief; rises and takes
+the hand mirror from the table to make sure of his tie with the gravest
+anxiety; and is looking at his watch again when She comes in, much
+flustered. As she is dressed for the theatre; has spoilt, petted ways;
+and wears many diamonds, she has an air of being a young and beautiful
+woman; but as a matter of hard fact, she is, dress and pretensions
+apart, a very ordinary South Kensington female of about 37, hopelessly
+inferior in physical and spiritual distinction to the beautiful youth,
+who hastily puts down the mirror as she enters.
+
+HE [kissing her hand] At last!
+
+SHE. Henry: something dreadful has happened.
+
+HE. What's the matter?
+
+SHE. I have lost your poems.
+
+HE. They were unworthy of you. I will write you some more.
+
+SHE. No, thank you. Never any more poems for me. Oh, how could I have
+been so mad! so rash! so imprudent!
+
+HE. Thank Heaven for your madness, your rashness, your imprudence!
+
+SHE [impatiently] Oh, be sensible, Henry. Can't you see what a terrible
+thing this is for me? Suppose anybody finds these poems! what will they
+think?
+
+HE. They will think that a man once loved a woman more devotedly than
+ever man loved woman before. But they will not know what man it was.
+
+SHE. What good is that to me if everybody will know what woman it was?
+
+HE. But how will they know?
+
+SHE. How will they know! Why, my name is all over them: my silly,
+unhappy name. Oh, if I had only been christened Mary Jane, or Gladys
+Muriel, or Beatrice, or Francesca, or Guinevere, or something quite
+common! But Aurora! Aurora! I'm the only Aurora in London; and everybody
+knows it. I believe I'm the only Aurora in the world. And it's so
+horribly easy to rhyme to it! Oh, Henry, why didn't you try to restrain
+your feelings a little in common consideration for me? Why didn't you
+write with some little reserve?
+
+HE. Write poems to you with reserve! You ask me that!
+
+SHE [with perfunctory tenderness] Yes, dear, of course it was very nice
+of you; and I know it was my own fault as much as yours. I ought to have
+noticed that your verses ought never to have been addressed to a married
+woman.
+
+HE. Ah, how I wish they had been addressed to an unmarried woman! how I
+wish they had!
+
+SHE. Indeed you have no right to wish anything of the sort. They are
+quite unfit for anybody but a married woman. That's just the difficulty.
+What will my sisters-in-law think of them?
+
+HE [painfully jarred] Have you got sisters-in-law?
+
+SHE. Yes, of course I have. Do you suppose I am an angel?
+
+HE [biting his lips] I do. Heaven help me, I do--or I did--or [he almost
+chokes a sob].
+
+SHE [softening and putting her hand caressingly on his shoulder] Listen
+to me, dear. It's very nice of you to live with me in a dream, and to
+love me, and so on; but I can't help my husband having disagreeable
+relatives, can I?
+
+HE [brightening up] Ah, of course they are your husband's relatives: I
+forgot that. Forgive me, Aurora. [He takes her hand from his shoulder
+and kisses it. She sits down on the stool. He remains near the table,
+with his back to it, smiling fatuously down at her].
+
+SHE. The fact is, Teddy's got nothing but relatives. He has eight
+sisters and six half-sisters, and ever so many brothers--but I don't
+mind his brothers. Now if you only knew the least little thing about
+the world, Henry, you'd know that in a large family, though the sisters
+quarrel with one another like mad all the time, yet let one of the
+brothers marry, and they all turn on their unfortunate sister-in-law and
+devote the rest of their lives with perfect unanimity to persuading
+him that his wife is unworthy of him. They can do it to her very face
+without her knowing it, because there are always a lot of stupid low
+family jokes that nobody understands but themselves. Half the time you
+can't tell what they're talking about: it just drives you wild. There
+ought to be a law against a man's sister ever entering his house after
+he's married. I'm as certain as that I'm sitting here that Georgina
+stole those poems out of my workbox.
+
+HE. She will not understand them, I think.
+
+SHE. Oh, won't she! She'll understand them only too well. She'll
+understand more harm than ever was in them: nasty vulgar-minded cat!
+
+HE [going to her] Oh don't, don't think of people in that way. Don't
+think of her at all. [He takes her hand and sits down on the carpet at
+her feet]. Aurora: do you remember the evening when I sat here at your
+feet and read you those poems for the first time?
+
+SHE. I shouldn't have let you: I see that now. When I think of Georgina
+sitting there at Teddy's feet and reading them to him for the first
+time, I feel I shall just go distracted.
+
+HE. Yes, you are right. It will be a profanation.
+
+SHE. Oh, I don't care about the profanation; but what will Teddy think?
+what will he do? [Suddenly throwing his head away from her knee]. You
+don't seem to think a bit about Teddy. [She jumps up, more and more
+agitated].
+
+HE [supine on the floor; for she has thrown him off his balance] To me
+Teddy is nothing, and Georgina less than nothing.
+
+SHE. You'll soon find out how much less than nothing she is. If you
+think a woman can't do any harm because she's only a scandalmongering
+dowdy ragbag, you're greatly mistaken. [She flounces about the room. He
+gets up slowly and dusts his hands. Suddenly she runs to him and throws
+herself into his arms]. Henry: help me. Find a way out of this for me;
+and I'll bless you as long as you live. Oh, how wretched I am! [She sobs
+on his breast].
+
+HE. And oh! how happy I am!
+
+SHE [whisking herself abruptly away] Don't be selfish.
+
+HE [humbly] Yes: I deserve that. I think if I were going to the stake
+with you, I should still be so happy with you that I could hardly feel
+your danger more than my own.
+
+SHE [relenting and patting his hand fondly] Oh, you are a dear darling
+boy, Henry; but [throwing his hand away fretfully] you're no use. I want
+somebody to tell me what to do.
+
+HE [with quiet conviction] Your heart will tell you at the right time. I
+have thought deeply over this; and I know what we two must do, sooner or
+later.
+
+SHE. No, Henry. I will do nothing improper, nothing dishonorable. [She
+sits down plump on the stool and looks inflexible].
+
+HE. If you did, you would no longer be Aurora. Our course is perfectly
+simple, perfectly straightforward, perfectly stainless and true. We love
+one another. I am not ashamed of that: I am ready to go out and proclaim
+it to all London as simply as I will declare it to your husband when you
+see--as you soon will see--that this is the only way honorable enough
+for your feet to tread. Let us go out together to our own house,
+this evening, without concealment and without shame. Remember! we owe
+something to your husband. We are his guests here: he is an honorable
+man: he has been kind to us: he has perhaps loved you as well as his
+prosaic nature and his sordid commercial environment permitted. We owe
+it to him in all honor not to let him learn the truth from the lips of
+a scandalmonger. Let us go to him now quietly, hand in hand; bid him
+farewell; and walk out of the house without concealment and subterfuge,
+freely and honestly, in full honor and self-respect.
+
+SHE [staring at him] And where shall we go to?
+
+HE. We shall not depart by a hair's breadth from the ordinary natural
+current of our lives. We were going to the theatre when the loss of the
+poems compelled us to take action at once. We shall go to the theatre
+still; but we shall leave your diamonds here; for we cannot afford
+diamonds, and do not need them.
+
+SHE [fretfully] I have told you already that I hate diamonds; only Teddy
+insists on hanging me all over with them. You need not preach simplicity
+to me.
+
+HE. I never thought of doing so, dearest: I know that these trivialities
+are nothing to you. What was I saying--oh yes. Instead of coming
+back here from the theatre, you will come with me to my home--now and
+henceforth our home--and in due course of time, when you are divorced,
+we shall go through whatever idle legal ceremony you may desire. I
+attach no importance to the law: my love was not created in me by the
+law, nor can it be bound or loosed by it. That is simple enough, and
+sweet enough, is it not? [He takes the flower from the table]. Here are
+flowers for you: I have the tickets: we will ask your husband to lend
+us the carriage to show that there is no malice, no grudge, between us.
+Come!
+
+SHE [spiritlessly, taking the flowers without looking at them, and
+temporizing] Teddy isn't in yet.
+
+HE. Well, let us take that calmly. Let us go to the theatre as if
+nothing had happened, and tell him when we come back. Now or three hours
+hence: to-day or to-morrow: what does it matter, provided all is done in
+honor, without shame or fear?
+
+SHE. What did you get tickets for? Lohengrin?
+
+HE. I tried; but Lohengrin was sold out for to-night. [He takes out two
+Court Theatre tickets].
+
+SHE. Then what did you get?
+
+HE. Can you ask me? What is there besides Lohengrin that we two could
+endure, except Candida?
+
+SHE [springing up] Candida! No, I won't go to it again, Henry [tossing
+the flower on the piano]. It is that play that has done all the
+mischief. I'm very sorry I ever saw it: it ought to be stopped.
+
+HE [amazed] Aurora!
+
+SHE. Yes: I mean it.
+
+HE. That divinest love poem! the poem that gave us courage to speak to
+one another! that revealed to us what we really felt for one another!
+That--
+
+SHE. Just so. It put a lot of stuff into my head that I should never
+have dreamt of for myself. I imagined myself just like Candida.
+
+HE [catching her hands and looking earnestly at her] You were right. You
+are like Candida.
+
+SHE [snatching her hands away] Oh, stuff! And I thought you were just
+like Eugene. [Looking critically at him] Now that I come to look at you,
+you are rather like him, too. [She throws herself discontentedly into
+the nearest seat, which happens to be the bench at the piano. He goes to
+her].
+
+HE [very earnestly] Aurora: if Candida had loved Eugene she would have
+gone out into the night with him without a moment's hesitation.
+
+SHE [with equal earnestness] Henry: do you know what's wanting in that
+play?
+
+HE. There is nothing wanting in it.
+
+SHE. Yes there is. There's a Georgina wanting in it. If Georgina had
+been there to make trouble, that play would have been a true-to-life
+tragedy. Now I'll tell you something about it that I have never told you
+before.
+
+HE. What is that?
+
+SHE. I took Teddy to it. I thought it would do him good; and so it would
+if I could only have kept him awake. Georgina came too; and you should
+have heard the way she went on about it. She said it was downright
+immoral, and that she knew the sort of woman that encourages boys to sit
+on the hearthrug and make love to her. She was just preparing Teddy's
+mind to poison it about me.
+
+HE. Let us be just to Georgina, dearest
+
+SHE. Let her deserve it first. Just to Georgina, indeed!
+
+HE. She really sees the world in that way. That is her punishment.
+
+SHE. How can it be her punishment when she likes it? It'll be my
+punishment when she brings that budget of poems to Teddy. I wish you'd
+have some sense, and sympathize with my position a little.
+
+HE. [going away from the piano and beginning to walk about rather
+testily] My dear: I really don't care about Georgina or about Teddy. All
+these squabbles belong to a plane on which I am, as you say, no use. I
+have counted the cost; and I do not fear the consequences. After all,
+what is there to fear? Where is the difficulty? What can Georgina do?
+What can your husband do? What can anybody do?
+
+SHE. Do you mean to say that you propose that we should walk right bang
+up to Teddy and tell him we're going away together?
+
+HE. Yes. What can be simpler?
+
+SHE. And do you think for a moment he'd stand it, like that half-baked
+clergyman in the play? He'd just kill you.
+
+HE [coming to a sudden stop and speaking with considerable confidence]
+You don't understand these things, my darling, how could you? In one
+respect I am unlike the poet in the play. I have followed the Greek
+ideal and not neglected the culture of my body. Your husband would make
+a tolerable second-rate heavy weight if he were in training and ten
+years younger. As it is, he could, if strung up to a great effort by
+a burst of passion, give a good account of himself for perhaps fifteen
+seconds. But I am active enough to keep out of his reach for fifteen
+seconds; and after that I should be simply all over him.
+
+SHE [rising and coming to him in consternation] What do you mean by all
+over him?
+
+HE [gently] Don't ask me, dearest. At all events, I swear to you that
+you need not be anxious about me.
+
+SHE. And what about Teddy? Do you mean to tell me that you are going to
+beat Teddy before my face like a brutal prizefighter?
+
+HE. All this alarm is needless, dearest. Believe me, nothing will
+happen. Your husband knows that I am capable of defending myself. Under
+such circumstances nothing ever does happen. And of course I shall do
+nothing. The man who once loved you is sacred to me.
+
+SHE [suspiciously] Doesn't he love me still? Has he told you anything?
+
+HE. No, no. [He takes her tenderly in his arms]. Dearest, dearest: how
+agitated you are! how unlike yourself! All these worries belong to
+the lower plane. Come up with me to the higher one. The heights, the
+solitudes, the soul world!
+
+SHE [avoiding his gaze] No: stop: it's no use, Mr Apjohn.
+
+HE [recoiling] Mr Apjohn!!!
+
+SHE. Excuse me: I meant Henry, of course.
+
+HE. How could you even think of me as Mr Apjohn? I never think of you as
+Mrs Bompas: it is always Cand-- I mean Aurora, Aurora, Auro--
+
+SHE. Yes, yes: that's all very well, Mr Apjohn [He is about to interrupt
+again: but she won't have it] no: it's no use: I've suddenly begun to
+think of you as Mr Apjohn; and it's ridiculous to go on calling you
+Henry. I thought you were only a boy, a child, a dreamer. I thought you
+would be too much afraid to do anything. And now you want to beat Teddy
+and to break up my home and disgrace me and make a horrible scandal in
+the papers. It's cruel, unmanly, cowardly.
+
+HE [with grave wonder] Are you afraid?
+
+SHE. Oh, of course I'm afraid. So would you be if you had any common
+sense. [She goes to the hearth, turning her back to him, and puts one
+tapping foot on the fender].
+
+HE [watching her with great gravity] Perfect love casteth out fear. That
+is why I am not afraid. Mrs Bompas: you do not love me.
+
+SHE [turning to him with a gasp of relief] Oh, thank you, thank you! You
+really can be very nice, Henry.
+
+HE. Why do you thank me?
+
+SHE [coming prettily to him from the fireplace] For calling me Mrs
+Bompas again. I feel now that you are going to be reasonable and behave
+like a gentleman. [He drops on the stool; covers his face with his hand;
+and groans]. What's the matter?
+
+HE. Once or twice in my life I have dreamed that I was exquisitely happy
+and blessed. But oh! the misgiving at the first stir of consciousness!
+the stab of reality! the prison walls of the bedroom! the bitter, bitter
+disappointment of waking! And this time! oh, this time I thought I was
+awake.
+
+SHE. Listen to me, Henry: we really haven't time for all that sort of
+flapdoodle now. [He starts to his feet as if she had pulled a trigger
+and straightened him by the release of a powerful spring, and goes past
+her with set teeth to the little table]. Oh, take care: you nearly hit
+me in the chin with the top of your head.
+
+HE [with fierce politeness] I beg your pardon. What is it you want me to
+do? I am at your service. I am ready to behave like a gentleman if you
+will be kind enough to explain exactly how.
+
+SHE [a little frightened] Thank you, Henry: I was sure you would. You're
+not angry with me, are you?
+
+HE. Go on. Go on quickly. Give me something to think about, or I will--I
+will--[he suddenly snatches up her fan and it about to break it in his
+clenched fists].
+
+SHE [running forward and catching at the fan, with loud lamentation]
+Don't break my fan--no, don't. [He slowly relaxes his grip of it as she
+draws it anxiously out of his hands]. No, really, that's a stupid trick.
+I don't like that. You've no right to do that. [She opens the fan,
+and finds that the sticks are disconnected]. Oh, how could you be so
+inconsiderate?
+
+HE. I beg your pardon. I will buy you a new one.
+
+SHE [querulously] You will never be able to match it. And it was a
+particular favorite of mine.
+
+HE [shortly] Then you will have to do without it: that's all.
+
+SHE. That's not a very nice thing to say after breaking my pet fan, I
+think.
+
+HE. If you knew how near I was to breaking Teddy's pet wife and
+presenting him with the pieces, you would be thankful that you are alive
+instead of--of--of howling about five shillings worth of ivory. Damn
+your fan!
+
+SHE. Oh! Don't you dare swear in my presence. One would think you were
+my husband.
+
+HE [again collapsing on the stool] This is some horrible dream. What has
+become of you? You are not my Aurora.
+
+SHE. Oh, well, if you come to that, what has become of you? Do you think
+I would ever have encouraged you if I had known you were such a little
+devil?
+
+HE. Don't drag me down--don't--don't. Help me to find the way back to
+the heights.
+
+SHE [kneeling beside him and pleading] If you would only be reasonable,
+Henry. If you would only remember that I am on the brink of ruin, and
+not go on calmly saying it's all quite simple.
+
+HE. It seems so to me.
+
+SHE [jumping up distractedly] If you say that again I shall do something
+I'll be sorry for. Here we are, standing on the edge of a frightful
+precipice. No doubt it's quite simple to go over and have done with it.
+But can't you suggest anything more agreeable?
+
+HE. I can suggest nothing now. A chill black darkness has fallen: I can
+see nothing but the ruins of our dream. [He rises with a deep sigh].
+
+SHE. Can't you? Well, I can. I can see Georgina rubbing those poems into
+Teddy. [Facing him determinedly] And I tell you, Henry Apjohn, that you
+got me into this mess; and you must get me out of it again.
+
+HE [polite and hopeless] All I can say is that I am entirely at your
+service. What do you wish me to do?
+
+SHE. Do you know anybody else named Aurora?
+
+HE. No.
+
+SHE. There's no use in saying No in that frozen pigheaded way. You must
+know some Aurora or other somewhere.
+
+HE. You said you were the only Aurora in the world. And [lifting his
+clasped fists with a sudden return of his emotion] oh God! you were
+the only Aurora in the world to me. [He turns away from her, hiding his
+face].
+
+SHE [petting him] Yes, yes, dear: of course. It's very nice of you; and
+I appreciate it: indeed I do; but it's not reasonable just at present.
+Now just listen to me. I suppose you know all those poems by heart.
+
+HE. Yes, by heart. [Raising his head and looking at her, with a sudden
+suspicion] Don't you?
+
+SHE. Well, I never can remember verses; and besides, I've been so busy
+that I've not had time to read them all; though I intend to the very
+first moment I can get: I promise you that most faithfully, Henry. But
+now try and remember very particularly. Does the name of Bompas occur in
+any of the poems?
+
+HE [indignantly] No.
+
+SHE. You're quite sure?
+
+HE. Of course I am quite sure. How could I use such a name in a poem?
+
+SHE. Well, I don't see why not. It rhymes to rumpus, which seems
+appropriate enough at present, goodness knows! However, you're a poet,
+and you ought to know.
+
+HE. What does it matter--now?
+
+SHE. It matters a lot, I can tell you. If there's nothing about Bompas
+in the poems, we can say that they were written to some other Aurora,
+and that you showed them to me because my name was Aurora too. So you've
+got to invent another Aurora for the occasion.
+
+HE [very coldly] Oh, if you wish me to tell a lie--
+
+SHE. Surely, as a man of honor--as a gentleman, you wouldn't tell the
+truth, would you?
+
+HE. Very well. You have broken my spirit and desecrated my dreams.
+I will lie and protest and stand on my honor: oh, I will play the
+gentleman, never fear.
+
+SHE. Yes, put it all on me, of course. Don't be mean, Henry.
+
+HE [rousing himself with an effort] You are quite right, Mrs Bompas: I
+beg your pardon. You must excuse my temper. I have got growing pains, I
+think.
+
+SHE. Growing pains!
+
+HE. The process of growing from romantic boyhood into cynical maturity
+usually takes fifteen years. When it is compressed into fifteen minutes,
+the pace is too fast; and growing pains are the result.
+
+SHE. Oh, is this a time for cleverness? It's settled, isn't it, that
+you're going to be nice and good, and that you'll brazen it out to Teddy
+that you have some other Aurora?
+
+HE. Yes: I'm capable of anything now. I should not have told him the
+truth by halves; and now I will not lie by halves. I'll wallow in the
+honor of a gentleman.
+
+SHE. Dearest boy, I knew you would. I--Sh! [she rushes to the door, and
+holds it ajar, listening breathlessly].
+
+HE. What is it?
+
+SHE [white with apprehension] It's Teddy: I hear him tapping the new
+barometer. He can't have anything serious on his mind or he wouldn't
+do that. Perhaps Georgina hasn't said anything. [She steals back to the
+hearth]. Try and look as if there was nothing the matter. Give me my
+gloves, quick. [He hands them to her. She pulls on one hastily and
+begins buttoning it with ostentatious unconcern]. Go further away from
+me, quick. [He walks doggedly away from her until the piano prevents his
+going farther]. If I button my glove, and you were to hum a tune, don't
+you think that--
+
+HE. The tableau would be complete in its guiltiness. For Heaven's sake,
+Mrs Bompas, let that glove alone: you look like a pickpocket.
+
+Her husband comes in: a robust, thicknecked, well groomed city man,
+with a strong chin but a blithering eye and credulous mouth. He has a
+momentous air, but shows no sign of displeasure: rather the contrary.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Hallo! I thought you two were at the theatre.
+
+SHE. I felt anxious about you, Teddy. Why didn't you come home to
+dinner?
+
+HER HUSBAND. I got a message from Georgina. She wanted me to go to her.
+
+SHE. Poor dear Georgina! I'm sorry I haven't been able to call on her
+this last week. I hope there's nothing the matter with her.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Nothing, except anxiety for my welfare and yours. [She
+steals a terrified look at Henry]. By, the way, Apjohn, I should like a
+word with you this evening, if Aurora can spare you for a moment.
+
+HE [formally] I am at your service.
+
+HER HUSBAND. No hurry. After the theatre will do.
+
+HE. We have decided not to go.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Indeed! Well, then, shall we adjourn to my snuggery?
+
+SHE. You needn't move. I shall go and lock up my diamonds since I'm not
+going to the theatre. Give me my things.
+
+HER HUSBAND [as he hands her the cloud and the mirror] Well, we shall
+have more room here.
+
+HE [looking about him and shaking his shoulders loose] I think I should
+prefer plenty of room.
+
+HER HUSBAND. So, if it's not disturbing you, Rory--?
+
+SHE. Not at all. [She goes out].
+
+When the two men are alone together, Bompas deliberately takes the poems
+from his breast pocket; looks at them reflectively; then looks at Henry,
+mutely inviting his attention. Henry refuses to understand, doing his
+best to look unconcerned.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Do these manuscripts seem at all familiar to you, may I
+ask?
+
+HE. Manuscripts?
+
+HER HUSBAND. Yes. Would you like to look at them a little closer? [He
+proffers them under Henry's nose].
+
+HE [as with a sudden illumination of glad surprise] Why, these are my
+poems.
+
+HER HUSBAND. So I gather.
+
+HE. What a shame! Mrs Bompas has shown them to you! You must think me an
+utter ass. I wrote them years ago after reading Swinburne's Songs Before
+Sunrise. Nothing would do me then but I must reel off a set of Songs
+to the Sunrise. Aurora, you know: the rosy fingered Aurora. They're all
+about Aurora. When Mrs Bompas told me her name was Aurora, I couldn't
+resist the temptation to lend them to her to read. But I didn't bargain
+for your unsympathetic eyes.
+
+HER HUSBAND [grinning] Apjohn: that's really very ready of you. You are
+cut out for literature; and the day will come when Rory and I will be
+proud to have you about the house. I have heard far thinner stories from
+much older men.
+
+HE [with an air of great surprise] Do you mean to imply that you don't
+believe me?
+
+HER HUSBAND. Do you expect me to believe you?
+
+HE. Why not? I don't understand.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Come! Don't underrate your own cleverness, Apjohn. I think
+you understand pretty well.
+
+HE. I assure you I am quite at a loss. Can you not be a little more
+explicit?
+
+HER HUSBAND. Don't overdo it, old chap. However, I will just be so far
+explicit as to say that if you think these poems read as if they were
+addressed, not to a live woman, but to a shivering cold time of day at
+which you were never out of bed in your life, you hardly do justice to
+your own literary powers--which I admire and appreciate, mind you, as
+much as any man. Come! own up. You wrote those poems to my wife. [An
+internal struggle prevents Henry from answering]. Of course you did.
+[He throws the poems on the table; and goes to the hearthrug, where
+he plants himself solidly, chuckling a little and waiting for the next
+move].
+
+HE [formally and carefully] Mr Bompas: I pledge you my word you are
+mistaken. I need not tell you that Mrs Bompas is a lady of stainless
+honor, who has never cast an unworthy thought on me. The fact that she
+has shown you my poems--
+
+HER HUSBAND. That's not a fact. I came by them without her knowledge.
+She didn't show them to me.
+
+HE. Does not that prove their perfect innocence? She would have shown
+them to you at once if she had taken your quite unfounded view of them.
+
+HER HUSBAND [shaken] Apjohn: play fair. Don't abuse your intellectual
+gifts. Do you really mean that I am making a fool of myself?
+
+HE [earnestly] Believe me, you are. I assure you, on my honor as a
+gentleman, that I have never had the slightest feeling for Mrs Bompas
+beyond the ordinary esteem and regard of a pleasant acquaintance.
+
+HER HUSBAND [shortly, showing ill humor for the first time] Oh, indeed.
+[He leaves his hearth and begins to approach Henry slowly, looking him
+up and down with growing resentment].
+
+HE [hastening to improve the impression made by his mendacity] I should
+never have dreamt of writing poems to her. The thing is absurd.
+
+HER HUSBAND [reddening ominously] Why is it absurd?
+
+HE [shrugging his shoulders] Well, it happens that I do not admire Mrs
+Bompas--in that way.
+
+HER HUSBAND [breaking out in Henry's face] Let me tell you that Mrs
+Bompas has been admired by better men than you, you soapy headed little
+puppy, you.
+
+HE [much taken aback] There is no need to insult me like this. I assure
+you, on my honor as a--
+
+HER HUSBAND [too angry to tolerate a reply, and boring Henry more and
+more towards the piano] You don't admire Mrs Bompas! You would never
+dream of writing poems to Mrs Bompas! My wife's not good enough for you,
+isn't she. [Fiercely] Who are you, pray, that you should be so jolly
+superior?
+
+HE. Mr Bompas: I can make allowances for your jealousy--
+
+HER HUSBAND. Jealousy! do you suppose I'm jealous of YOU? No, nor of ten
+like you. But if you think I'll stand here and let you insult my wife in
+her own house, you're mistaken.
+
+HE [very uncomfortable with his back against the piano and Teddy
+standing over him threateningly] How can I convince you? Be reasonable.
+I tell you my relations with Mrs Bompas are relations of perfect
+coldness--of indifference--
+
+HER HUSBAND [scornfully] Say it again: say it again. You're proud of it,
+aren't you? Yah! You're not worth kicking.
+
+Henry suddenly executes the feat known to pugilists as dipping, and
+changes sides with Teddy, who it now between Henry and the piano.
+
+HE. Look here: I'm not going to stand this.
+
+HER HUSBAND. Oh, you have some blood in your body after all! Good job!
+
+HE. This is ridiculous. I assure you Mrs. Bompas is quite--
+
+HER HUSBAND. What is Mrs Bompas to you, I'd like to know. I'll tell
+you what Mrs Bompas is. She's the smartest woman in the smartest set in
+South Kensington, and the handsomest, and the cleverest, and the most
+fetching to experienced men who know a good thing when they see it,
+whatever she may be to conceited penny-a-lining puppies who think
+nothing good enough for them. It's admitted by the best people; and not
+to know it argues yourself unknown. Three of our first actor-managers
+have offered her a hundred a week if she'd go on the stage when they
+start a repertory theatre; and I think they know what they're about as
+well as you. The only member of the present Cabinet that you might call
+a handsome man has neglected the business of the country to dance with
+her, though he don't belong to our set as a regular thing. One of the
+first professional poets in Bedford Park wrote a sonnet to her, worth
+all your amateur trash. At Ascot last season the eldest son of a duke
+excused himself from calling on me on the ground that his feelings for
+Mrs Bompas were not consistent with his duty to me as host; and it did
+him honor and me too. But [with gathering fury] she isn't good enough
+for you, it seems. You regard her with coldness, with indifference;
+and you have the cool cheek to tell me so to my face. For two pins I'd
+flatten your nose in to teach you manners. Introducing a fine woman to
+you is casting pearls before swine [yelling at him] before SWINE! d'ye
+hear?
+
+HE [with a deplorable lack of polish] You call me a swine again and I'll
+land you one on the chin that'll make your head sing for a week.
+
+HER HUSBAND [exploding] What--!
+
+He charges at Henry with bull-like fury. Henry places himself on
+guard in the manner of a well taught boxer, and gets away smartly,
+but unfortunately forgets the stool which is just behind him. He falls
+backwards over it, unintentionally pushing it against the shins of
+Bompas, who falls forward over it. Mrs Bompas, with a scream, rushes
+into the room between the sprawling champions, and sits down on the
+floor in order to get her right arm round her husband's neck.
+
+SHE. You shan't, Teddy: you shan't. You will be killed: he is a
+prizefighter.
+
+HER HUSBAND [vengefully] I'll prizefight him. [He struggles vainly to
+free himself from her embrace].
+
+SHE. Henry: don't let him fight you. Promise me that you won't.
+
+HE [ruefully] I have got a most frightful bump on the back of my head.
+[He tries to rise].
+
+SHE [reaching out her left hand to seize his coat tail, and pulling him
+down again, whilst keeping fast hold of Teddy with the other hand] Not
+until you have promised: not until you both have promised. [Teddy tries
+to rise: she pulls him back again]. Teddy: you promise, don't you? Yes,
+yes. Be good: you promise.
+
+HER HUSBAND. I won't, unless he takes it back.
+
+SHE. He will: he does. You take it back, Henry?--yes.
+
+HE [savagely] Yes. I take it back. [She lets go his coat. He gets up. So
+does Teddy]. I take it all back, all, without reserve.
+
+SHE [on the carpet] Is nobody going to help me up? [They each take a
+hand and pull her up]. Now won't you shake hands and be good?
+
+HE [recklessly] I shall do nothing of the sort. I have steeped myself in
+lies for your sake; and the only reward I get is a lump on the back of
+my head the size of an apple. Now I will go back to the straight path.
+
+SHE. Henry: for Heaven's sake--
+
+HE. It's no use. Your husband is a fool and a brute--
+
+HER HUSBAND. What's that you say?
+
+HE. I say you are a fool and a brute; and if you'll step outside with me
+I'll say it again. [Teddy begins to take off his coat for combat]. Those
+poems were written to your wife, every word of them, and to nobody else.
+[The scowl clears away from Bompas's countenance. Radiant, he replaces
+his coat]. I wrote them because I loved her. I thought her the most
+beautiful woman in the world; and I told her so over and over again. I
+adored her: do you hear? I told her that you were a sordid commercial
+chump, utterly unworthy of her; and so you are.
+
+HER HUSBAND [so gratified, he can hardly believe his ears] You don't
+mean it!
+
+HE. Yes, I do mean it, and a lot more too. I asked Mrs Bompas to walk
+out of the house with me--to leave you--to get divorced from you and
+marry me. I begged and implored her to do it this very night. It was her
+refusal that ended everything between us. [Looking very disparagingly at
+him] What she can see in you, goodness only knows!
+
+HER HUSBAND [beaming with remorse] My dear chap, why didn't you say
+so before? I apologize. Come! Don't bear malice: shake hands. Make him
+shake hands, Rory.
+
+SHE. For my sake, Henry. After all, he's my husband. Forgive him.
+Take his hand. [Henry, dazed, lets her take his hand and place it in
+Teddy's].
+
+HER HUSBAND [shaking it heartily] You've got to own that none of your
+literary heroines can touch my Rory. [He turns to her and claps her with
+fond pride on the shoulder]. Eh, Rory? They can't resist you: none of
+em. Never knew a man yet that could hold out three days.
+
+SHE. Don't be foolish, Teddy. I hope you were not really hurt, Henry.
+[She feels the back of his head. He flinches]. Oh, poor boy, what a
+bump! I must get some vinegar and brown paper. [She goes to the bell and
+rings].
+
+HER HUSBAND. Will you do me a great favor, Apjohn. I hardly like to ask;
+but it would be a real kindness to us both.
+
+HE. What can I do?
+
+HER HUSBAND [taking up the poems] Well, may I get these printed? It
+shall be done in the best style. The finest paper, sumptuous binding,
+everything first class. They're beautiful poems. I should like to show
+them about a bit.
+
+SHE [running back from the bell, delighted with the idea, and coming
+between them] Oh Henry, if you wouldn't mind!
+
+HE. Oh, I don't mind. I am past minding anything. I have grown too fast
+this evening.
+
+SHE. How old are you, Henry?
+
+HE. This morning I was eighteen. Now I am--confound it! I'm quoting
+that beast of a play [he takes the Candida tickets out of his pocket and
+tears them up viciously].
+
+HER HUSBAND. What shall we call the volume? To Aurora, or something like
+that, eh?
+
+HE. I should call it How He Lied to Her Husband.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's How He Lied to Her Husband, by George Bernard Shaw
+
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