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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Six One-Act Plays, by Margaret Scott Oliver.
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Six One-Act Plays, by Margaret Scott Oliver
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/license
Title: Six One-Act Plays
Author: Margaret Scott Oliver
Release Date: March 24, 2012 [EBook #39243]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX ONE-ACT PLAYS ***
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
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<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>American Dramatists Series</i></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="giant">SIX<br/>
ONE-ACT PLAYS</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>The Hand of the Prophet</i>—<i>Children<br/>
of Granada</i>—<i>The Turtle Dove</i>—<i>This<br/>
Youth-Gentlemen</i>—<i>The Striker</i>—<br/>
<i>Murdering Selina</i></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">MARGARET SCOTT OLIVER</span></p>
<p> </p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER</span><br/>
TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
<p class="center">Copyright, 1916, by Margaret Scott Oliver</p>
<p class="center">All Rights Reserved</p>
<p> </p>
<p>These plays in their printed form are intended for the reading public
only. All dramatic rights are fully protected by copyright, and any
performance—professional or otherwise—may be given only with the
written permission of the author.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center">MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.</span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p class="center">To</p>
<p class="center">L. S. O.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS</span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table">
<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td>The Hand of the Prophet</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Children of Granada</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>The Turtle Dove</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>This Youth-Gentlemen!</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>The Striker</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Murdering Selina</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Notes pertaining to the plays </span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr>
<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Music used in plays</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr></table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE HAND OF THE PROPHET</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">An Arabian Episode</span></span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Cast</span></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>, <i>A Merchant of Riad</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Halima</span>, <i>His Bride</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>, <i>A Young Sheykh, Cousin to Kodama</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Slave</span>, <i>To Kodama</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Slave</span>, <i>To Sindibad</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Singer.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Dancing Girl.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Wedding Guests, Slaves and Desert Men.</span></td></tr></table>
<p class="center"><i>Scene—A room in the home of Halima.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">The Hand of the Prophet</span></p>
<p><i>From between the parted curtains two desert men in white costumes, with
red sashes and turbans appear. They wear scimiters in their sashes, and
are smoking very long cigarettes. They bow to one another, and walk to
the two sides of the stage, where they remain until first curtain, then
go behind. This is repeated before and after each part of the play.</i></p>
<p><i>Scene—A room in the home of Halima. Music and laughter are heard, and
as the curtain is drawn, a slave girl is seen finishing a wild dance. As
she sinks exhausted to the floor there are applause and sounds of
approval, in which the merchant Kodama leads. He is seated beside his
bride, Halima, on a dais. In the room are slaves, attendants and members
of the two families. The wedding celebration is in progress, and all are
in festal mood and dress. Rose petals are strewn on the floor, platters
heaped with fruits are at the front and side of the stage, and incense
is burning in two braziers.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thy slave dances with the grace of a startled gazelle. Command
her again before night comes. I am pleased with her!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I am glad she is fair in thine eyes, my husband. She knows many
magic dances that will delight thee.... But the wedding feast has
continued four days, my lord, and thy kinsman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> from the desert not
appeared.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Four days more shall the feasting last. There is yet time.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I am eager for the jewels, and cloths of gold he was to bring.
Thou didst promise my father—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Enough, enough! Art thou a child that patience is not in thee?
Before the feast has ended he will come. I weary of these murmurings.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>Claps hands.</i>) Music for my lord.</p>
<p>(<i>Slave sings. As the song ends a slave appears before Kodama.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave to Kodama</span>—The young Sheykh Sindibad is here.</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad appears L. with some men from his caravan, and a young slave,
who is carrying three bundles tied in silken cloths. He walks airily to
the dais.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Sindibad!</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad and Kodama embrace. Halima, with a coquettish gesture, puts
her veil before her face.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Let forgiveness for my tardiness be granted, cousin, when thou
seest what I have brought. Many treasures have I found thy lady, before
whom I prostrate myself.</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad kneels and kisses Halima's hand and then his own. His slave
boy quickly opens the bundles, and the contents are eagerly examined.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I had thought to see thee sooner; the wedding is four days old.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I had thought to come sooner, but there was a maiden.... Never
have I seen such stars as were her eyes, and her lips, the blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> of
pomegranate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thou wast ever led easily by starry eyes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>Holding out scarf.</i>) See, it is a wondrous cloth, with threads
of gold and silver.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy loveliness will enhance its beauties a thousand times.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—My loveliness did not tempt thee to hasten.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I have never seen thy face, and there was a maiden....</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—There was a maiden. Have done with thy raving! (<i>To Halima.</i>)
Let thy slave dance!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Dance!</p>
<p>(<i>As the slave dances, all watch eagerly save Sindibad, who gazes at
Halima.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy voice is soothing as the sound of water in the heart of
the desert. Let me see thy face.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Look at these fabrics rather.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Nay, but an instant, while they watch the dancer, unveil, and
let me see thy face.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I may not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—It is not forbidden. I am thy husband's kinsman. Let me see
thy face!</p>
<p>(<i>Halima drops veil. Sindibad prostrates himself.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I am thy slave forever, oh fairer than the day at dawn.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Arise! they will see thee!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—And thou hast married the merchant Kodama! Awah! Awah!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Arise! Arise!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Why cryest thou awah? This is not a time for wailing. Dost
lament for the maiden of the desert?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Her image has changed ... as sand upon the desert's face.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Scene—The same. Kodama and Halima are seated on the dais as before.
Two slave girls are in the room. Kodama's slave enters C. and stands
before Kodama.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave to Kodama</span>—The merchant from Baghdad awaits. Shall I bring him to
have audience here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I will speak with him in the myrtle court. Keep watch over my
wife and the women. (<i>Exit C.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad enters L. as a slave comes from R. The slave is carrying
coffee, and reaches Halima as Sindibad approaches.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I drink to thine amber eyes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thou must not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Send thy women away.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I dare not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Send thy women away! I have words they must not hear.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>To attendants.</i>) Go!</p>
<p>(<i>Kodama's slave stands motionless.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—(<i>To Slave.</i>) I am cousin to thy master. Go with the women.</p>
<p>(<i>Slave goes slowly C. from the room. Halima has risen from the dais,
and seated herself on a</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> <i>rug in the centre of the room. She is humming
coquettishly and is admiring herself in a mirror. Sindibad watches her
eagerly for an instant.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—My blood has changed to leaping flame.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—If thou comest nearer I shall call my women back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Unbind thy wondrous hair. It is a fountain of living gold.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thou must not sit so close.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I love thee, and shall stay until thou sayest, "I love thee."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>Stopping her song.</i>) I am thy kinsman's wife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—By Allah! Thou art no man's wife but mine!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I am but a dream. Awake, lest the Prophet smite thee!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Oh, beautiful dream, I am mad for thee. To-night thou shalt
fly with me into the desert.</p>
<p>(<i>Kodama enters C. unnoticed, and listens.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I am thy kinsman's wife. My father gave me to him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—The fire of youth has gone from his blood. He is old. Thou
canst not love him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Allah!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) I am his wife. (<i>Exit R.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad starts to follow her, but is arrested by the sound of
Kodama's entrance.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Alone?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—With a dream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—The beautiful maiden who delayed thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> progress hither?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I tell thee I have forgotten her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thy heart is fickle surely.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I have seen one more beautiful.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—The dancing slave?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Yea ... even the dancing slave.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thou shalt have her. She is like the little moon when it first
peeps above the date palms. Thou shalt have her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy wife is young.... I will not have the dancing slave.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—How now!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy wife is young. Her skin is of pearl, her eyes twin amber
pools where men may—oh fool, oh blind, thy wife is young and beautiful.
Canst thou not see?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—It is written: The blind man avoids the ditch into which the
clear-sighted falls.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy heart is a dried grape. Thy wife is—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—My wife! Art thou an honest Arab that she should so dwell in thy
thoughts? Take the dancing slave, and begone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy words are crystal dewdrops quivering on a leaf.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thou art young—tempt me not too far.</p>
<p>(<i>Slave enters immediately C. with a tray on which is wine.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—By the beard of the Prophet, wine! The Koran forbids it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—It shall turn to milk in the throat of the true believer.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thou hast said it.</p>
<p>(<i>Kodama and Sindibad drink, and look at one another searchingly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thy black angel is ever at thy left side in the city. It will
persuade thee into mighty wrong. Young cousin, it is wise that thou
shouldst return to thy people. Go quickly, lest evil come. I will give
thee rich presents for thy father. As for thee, choose one of the slave
girls—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I will take with me nothing—but a dream. (<i>Exit L.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Allah send him swift away.... There shall be no returning.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Scene—The same. A slave is singing. Kodama is seated on the dais,
while Halima comes in slowly and gazes anxiously at him. It is the next
day.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thy brows are still lowered. In what have I offended thee, my
husband?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Amber pools where men may—what do men find in thine eyes?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I know not, unless thou sayest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—And thy skin is of pearl, is it not so?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Shall I send away the women, oh my lord?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I am not loving thee. Let the women and the lights remain.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I had hoped—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Thou hadst hoped! Am I a fledgling to faint under thy beauty?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thou didst marry me.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—It was a wise bargain with thy father, whose hands will help
carry my trade into the desert, and beyond.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I thought thy kinsman Sindibad would do that. He is a son of the
desert.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I like not my kinsman. He is a fool and a magpie.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—He is young and handsome, full of fire and poetry.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Full of deceit and treachery, with honeyed words that mean
nothing. But yesterday he raved of a maiden whom he met in the desert.
To-day he is mad for thy—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—For my—?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—For thy dancing slave. To-morrow he will go to the desert with
another nightingale piping at his elbow. He knows not constancy, but
flies from one deluded maiden to another.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Surely thou wrongest him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I wrong him not. We shall not talk of him.... Thy shimmering
hair has hidden thine ear. Let me put it back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Oh, Kodama, thou hast never praised my hair before. See, it is a
fountain of living gold!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Who told thee that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—My ... women.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—What other pretty things do they say to swell thy vanity?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—They say—thou lovest me not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—As thou art a woman, and beautiful, I love thee ... no more ...
no less. Thou art a woman. I have said it!</p>
<p>(<i>Kodama puts Halima from him, and leaves</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> <i>abruptly R. Halima for an
instant puts out her hands pleadingly to Kodama's retreating back, and
then with a hopeless little gesture drops her head on the cushions. One
of the women picks up her lute, and sings a plaintive song. The young
slave boy of Sindibad's appears L.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave Boy</span>—The young Sheykh Sindibad leaves for his father's tent in the
desert, and would say farewell to his kinsman's lady.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Let him come. (<i>To attendants.</i>) I would be alone! (<i>Exeunt
attendants C.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Sindibad enters L. and looks at Halima's despairing figure for a
moment.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—To-night I go to my people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Allah, the compassionate, the merciful, guide thy footsteps.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—And thou, white rose, wouldst thou be free?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Free!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—A strong mehari is below, and my men are waiting.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—I am afraid.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—By the hand of the Prophet, it was written thou shouldst love
me, and I thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—His wrath—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thou art not bound to him by any law.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—He loves me not, and yet—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Come to the golden desert, and thou shalt learn the many ways
of love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—He took me to seal a bargain with my father. But thou, thou wilt
soon tire of me. He said thou lovest any woman.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I will not fail thee, until soul and body part.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Oh, hungry ears, be not so eager for these words of love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—Thy body is wonderful as a hidden river whereon the moonlight
dances. Rest thou upon my beating heart, oh beloved.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—All of heaven is here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sindibad</span>—I drink thy lips like wine. (<i>Kisses her. Exeunt. Stage is
empty for a very short time.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>The Slave and Kodama enter hurriedly R.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave to Kodama</span>—This way, my master, they went but a moment since, and
thou canst get them ere they reach the court.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—(<i>Drawing scimiter.</i>) Stay! (<i>Exit C.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>The slave remains motionless on the stage, and there is silence. Then
Kodama returns wiping his blade. He spits on the floor.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Allah!</p>
<p>(<i>Halima enters C. She rushes to Kodama.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thou hast killed him!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—The babbling fool, to think he could steal thee from me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—(<i>Whispering.</i>) Thou hast killed him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Go to thy women.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Bring him back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Peace.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Bring him back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Peace, peace, I say.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Oh, Sindibad, my love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Love!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—Thou snarling camel, hast thou lost thine ears? Age has dried
thy bones, and turned thy blood to dust. I'll none of thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—(<i>Claps hands. Slave appears L.</i>) Bring him here. Go!</p>
<p>(<i>Slave carries in the body of Sindibad, and puts it on the dais. Halima
sinks beside it with a little cry of distress.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Halima</span>—He was Allah's shadow upon the earth. Thou canst buy a woman,
but not hold her. Let me go with him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Oh, amber pools where men may find oblivion, close ... close
(<i>chokes her.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>The body falls beside Sindibad's.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Allah has left no calamity more hurtful to man than woman. It
was written in the stars. (<i>To Slave.</i>) Bring the women. Let music be
played, and let there be dancing.</p>
<p>(<i>Slaves and attendants enter, and there is music.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—(<i>To the body of Sindibad.</i>) Dost hear the music for thy wedding
feast? Thou art dead, honey babbler, and gone to the desert of forgotten
desires. Thou art dead!</p>
<p>(<i>Slave dances. As dance ends, Kodama's slave kneels before him.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave</span>—Master, thou hast killed a true believer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—I have killed—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave</span>—In mistake, oh master.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—And art thou a true believer?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Slave</span>—Even as thou sayest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kodama</span>—Then I make thee free that the blood-wit be paid! Go forth, thou
art free! (<i>Suddenly and hoarsely to the musicians.</i>) Break your lutes!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>(<i>Music stops.</i>) Let there be lamentations! This is a house of sorrow!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">CHILDREN OF GRANADA</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">A Spanish Play</span></span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table">
<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Spaniards</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">General Don Fernando de Lerma</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lieut. Don Rodriguez</span>—<i>His Son</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—<i>An Officer</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—<i>The Daughter of a Bull-Fighter</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—<i>A Dancer</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Moors</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Hafiz ben Ali.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Hassan Akbar.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—<i>A Wife of Hafiz ben Ali</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>, <i>Son of Hafiz and Cafour</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Spanish Soldiers and Moorish Prisoners.</span></td></tr></table>
<p class="center"><i>Time—Spain during the reign of Philip III, about 1609.</i></p>
<p class="center"><i>Place—Courtyard of Alhambra in Granada.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span><span class="huge">Children of Granada</span></p>
<p><i>Scene—The back-drop shows mountains in the distance. Along the entire
back of stage is a stone bench against a low wall which overlooks the
Valley of the Darro River. The tops of one or two trees show above it.
At right back is a little turret, with entrance toward the audience.
Entrance at front right, through Moorish gateway. Entrance at left front
from garden.</i></p>
<p><i>Don Rodriguez and Lagrimas are discovered sitting together on the
bench. The soft tinkle of guitars is heard. Don Rodriguez is looking
straight out towards the audience with his hands clasped. Lagrimas is
gazing over the wall.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I tell thee it would be the easiest thing in the world to
capture Hafiz the Moor. I could creep through the Darro, for the thirsty
sun swallows the little river with one gulp in summer, and it is dry as
the road to Cordova. No one would see me until I reached the Mosque,
where Hafiz will be at his infidel prayers. Hafiz the Moor! The greatest
enemy to our King in all Spain, and I, I have found a way to capture him
with a handful of men. I think my father will call me a soldier then,
and thou wilt smile on my love, Lagrimas. No maiden can resist a
victorious soldier.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Look at the swallows building in the little turret. It must be
nesting time.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Lagrimas!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Don Rodriguez!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I have been telling thee my plans to take Hafiz the Moor, and
of my love for thee, and thou answerest with some nonsense about
swallows, and nesting time.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I am very wise at times.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Surely it's not unwise to hear of my love and bravery?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I have heard thee speak much of both, Don Rodriguez.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I am a fool to think I could ever win thee. Thou dost make
sport of my affection, one minute cold, one minute hot. I never know how
to take thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Do not take me at all, Don Rodriguez.</p>
<p>(<i>They sit silently a moment, Rodriguez in despair. At last Lagrimas
peeps provokingly at him.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—There is a caballero wooing his inamorata. Listen to the
guitar. Music is very soothing in the cool of the evening. How rich and
soft his voice is! I would find it hard to flout such a seductive lover.
Dost thou not hear him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—No!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I can hear him plainly. What has stopped thine ears?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—The beating of my heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—A soldier's heart should not beat so loudly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Mine does.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Poor soldier!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I'll not have thy scorn.... When I'm killed by the Moriscoes,
thou mayest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> repent thy coldness.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Little soldier, thou wast to <i>conquer</i> the Moriscoes; and
capture Hafiz, the enemy of King Philip.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I shall conquer nothing. Deeds of valor are possible only
because a lady smiled.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I smile always when with thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Have thy jest. Broken lives mean nothing to a coquette.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Timid lovers mean less.... Why rail against fate?</p>
<p>(<i>Pedro and Feliciana enter with a rush.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Dance! Dance! I <i>will</i> dance whenever I please.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—And have the commonest fellow in the ranks praise thine alluring
ankles and twinkling feet. Hast thou no modesty?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—If my ankles were thick, and my feet clumsy, I'd be modest as
a nun, and keep them chastely for thine eyes alone. Why should I hide
them when they are beautiful?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—They tempt men to foolishness.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Foolishness is wonderful.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Well, they are not so bewitching as I have said. I have praised
them in moments of weakness, but they are only so-so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Don Rodriguez, I appeal to thee! Thou givest many an admiring
glance when I dance the zambra in the orange grove. Thine eyes betray
thee, now say, are they but so-so? (<i>Raises skirt.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I—well—that is—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Why dost thou not answer? Feliciana's feet are small, but not
invisible. Look at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> them, and pronounce judgment.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I grieve for thee, Pedro. They will often dance on thy heart,
I fear, but in all truth and honesty, they are not so-so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Brave Don Rodriguez! I shall dance for thee to pay for thy
gallant approval.</p>
<p>(<i>Feliciana dances with castanets, while the others keep time with
hands. Before the dance has finished, General Don Fernando comes upon
the scene, and surveys it with much displeasure.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Is it in this fashion the soldiers of Philip protect their
country?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—One must relax sometime, General.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Caramba! Am I a relaxation? I thought thou didst take love
more seriously, Lieut. Pedro. Seek new amusements for thine idle hours.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit Feliciana—Pedro runs after her.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Feliciana, I swear by the stars—</p>
<p>(<i>Exit. Pause.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Does my son court shame behind my back?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I love Lagrimas, I have asked her to be my wife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thou hast asked her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I offer my hand, where I have given my heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Dost thou not owe me the courtesy of knowledge? Am I to stumble
on thy secret like any outsider?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I would have told thee to-day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—To-day is too late. Thou hast not my permission to marry.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I am old enough to know when,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> and whom I shall marry.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—And if the door of my home is closed to thee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—If Lagrimas will marry me, I shall make a home of my own.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Fool! If she will marry thee? Dost think she will allow thee to
slip through her fingers?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I shall marry no son of thine, General Don Fernando de Lerma.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit Lagrimas.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Lagrimas!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—The daughter of a bull-fighter!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—My grandfather fought the bulls.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thy grandfather! The most gallant gentleman of the Spanish
court, who rode into the arena on his own steed, and defied the bull in
the name of his lady love. To-day her father prods a sorry hack to its
death, and fights ... for a handful of silver!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—She is poor, I grant, but no word of scandal has ever
tarnished her name. Why dost thou oppose?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Canst thou blot out thy life, and the traditions of thy race?
Wilt thou not sicken of this girl's people?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I marry Lagrimas, not her family.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Oh, blindness of youth!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I have heard thee say Spain must look to the people for her
salvation.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Spain must look to her soldiers. Infidels are in the realm.
Help the King crush them out. Fight, fight and put love aside.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I may fight, but I will not give up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> Lagrimas.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thou must decide.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I have decided.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—If thou goest from me to-day, thou goest forever.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I am a man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—When thou tirest of her, do not beat on my door. Lock thy
bitterness in thine own breast, for mine will none of thee. (<i>Exit.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Rodriguez walks up and down.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—He is hard, he is unjust. But I have defied him ... I have
defied him.</p>
<p>(<i>Lagrimas enters and goes to the bench against the wall.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I left my fan.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Thy fan?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—It is enough, Don Rodriguez. (<i>Starts to go.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Hast found it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—It is of no consequence. Do not let me keep thee from thy
father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Ah, he hurt thee with his cruel speech.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Nay, he was right. I can give thee nothing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Thou canst give me what I most lack, faith in myself. I am a
make believe soldier, a boy decked out with a sword at my side, and a
plume in my hat. Until this day I never questioned his bidding, and now
I have defied him, I have defied my father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Will he forgive thee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I know not. Pride of birth, pride<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> of position, pride of
power, these are his gods. I have dared to attack his power.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Make him proud of <i>thee</i>. Capture Hafiz. He will forgive thee
then.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Capture Hafiz? That may not be so easy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Thy plan will succeed because of its very daring. I know thou
canst do it. (<i>Slowly.</i>) I believe thee to be a brave man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—And thou?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I shall be proud also.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I must have thy promise. What else is there to inspire me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Thy name as a soldier of Spain, thy devotion to thy father,
thy loyalty to holy church.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Church, country, my father, these do not count, if I have not
thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I stand between thee and thy father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Between me and life itself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—The sin of separating thee shall not be on my head. Make peace
with thy father, fight as a soldier fights, and forget—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Thee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Make peace with thy father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Now I <i>know</i> thou dost not love me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) I do not love thee!</p>
<p>(<i>Rodriguez looks at her an instant, then walks quickly away.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I came for something. (<i>Takes fan from bosom.</i>) My fan? No,
no! I do not love thee? Maria, forgive the lie!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">The Following Morning</span></span></p>
<p>(<i>A group of Moorish prisoners, five men and two women are on the stage.
The men and women are standing a little apart, the women veiled, all are
motionless. Two Spanish soldiers are stationed at either end of the
stage. The muezzin is heard from the Valley calling to prayer. The Moors
prostrate themselves with face to East, then assume original position.
There is silence for a moment, and birds are heard singing.</i>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(<i>Pedro enters, and goes to the group to look them over.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Hafiz! He did get thee! Well, thou art a prisoner worth taking,
and if I can read the temper of our General, thy infidel soul and body
may part company before the sun sets to-night.</p>
<p>(<i>Moors remain silent. Pedro leaves laughing.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—What manner of brutes are these Christians!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hassan</span>—What manner of fools are we to be prisoners.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—No man could have forseen the trick of the Spanish Rodriguez, may
his forehead be blackened with mud!</p>
<p>(<i>Cafour sways back and forth, moaning.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Soldiers everywhere. There is no chance to escape, unless we go
over the wall.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hassan</span>—(<i>Looking over wall.</i>) We would perish.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—(<i>To Hafiz.</i>) What have they done with my son?</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—The boy has gone the way of death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Death! And thou his father, stand calmly by, and know him dead!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Have I not other sons to avenge him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—The sons of other mothers, but not of my blood!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hassan</span>—The Spanish General—</p>
<p>(<i>The Moors again are silent. General enters with Pedro.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—When were they taken?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Last night, General. We tried to get thee, but thy house was
closed and dark.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—They said eight prisoners. I count but seven.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—There was a lad who flung himself over the wall into the Darro.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—A brave lad!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—We have not looked for the body.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Oh, my son!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Why are these women here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—They followed the prisoners. The Lieutenant would not have them
harmed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thy victorious lieutenant hath a tender heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Tender? He has proved there is no braver soldier in Spain. Don
Rodriguez will be an idol now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Amazed.</i>) Don Rodriguez!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—The men who went with him say he did it all as—(<i>To Cafour.</i>)
Back there to thy place.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—My son!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—I would speak!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Speak when spoken to. Get back to thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> place.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—I would speak to him. (<i>Pointing to General.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Remove thy veil.</p>
<p>(<i>Cafour hesitates a moment, then throws back her veil. The Moors turn
their backs, that they may not see her face.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thou art not a Moorish woman.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—I am Cafour, the Abyssinian, third wife of Hafiz the Moor.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—What dost thou desire of me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—I want to know of my son.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thy son?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—It was he who jumped, there. (<i>Points over the wall.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—The boy who would not be a prisoner.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Thou saidst "brave." Send down and see if he lives.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—He could not live.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—He could not die. He is young, strong, happy,—he could not die.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—If he lives, I will have him shot for trying to escape.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Thou saidst "brave," thou wouldst not kill him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—As I would kill all infidels who fight against Spain and our
holy religion.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—I do not fight against thy country, or thy God. I beg for the
life of my boy. He is not dead. I know he is not dead. Perhaps he fell
into a tree, and is only hurt. Send down the soldiers and see.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>To Cafour.</i>) Go!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Send down the soldiers and see, Allah will put a blessing on thy
house. He will give thy son his delight. He will make his children to
rule over men.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Infidel! I care not for thy blessing. (<i>To Pedro.</i>) Take her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cafour</span>—Oh, heart that is dead to pity! As my child is lost to me, so
thy child shall be lost to thee! Allah will make it so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Take her away!</p>
<p>(<i>Cafour is led out by a soldier.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>To Hafiz.</i>) A boy to capture thee! Surely Allah slept while
thou didst pray in the Mosque, Hafiz!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—He will not sleep forever.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Ye serve a God who betrays. Renounce thy false Mohammed, thy
futile faith—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Is faith so lightly changed?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Believe in the holy church.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Is there but one road to Paradise, but one God who points the
way?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—There is the true God of the Christians.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Shall I measure the depth of his mercy by—thine?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Beware lest thy tongue cut thy throat.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—I shall give it fair chance.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thou art too wise to throw thy life away. A man of thy cunning
could be of value to the King.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—The King! A weakling whose brain's befogged with the ignorance
and bigotry of women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> and priests. Hafiz has not fallen so low he can
serve such a one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—The King will give thee freedom and safe passage to Africa if
thou wilt but place in his hands the plans of those Moriscoes who head
this uprising.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Yea, turn traitor to serve a traitor, and after I betray my
people, be traitorously killed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Philip does not forget those who work for the welfare of the
crown.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Am I a miserable animal that experience has not taught me how
short is the memory of Kings? Have I not heard of that Italian who found
land beyond the farthest seas, and gave Spain a greater glory than she
had ever known? Unhappy voyager, he sailed to a death of obscurity and
neglect! Thy Kings are destroyers, and we who build, fear the jackals
who tear down.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—I warn thee, Hafiz, tolerance will not stretch much further.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Tolerance! Spain does not know the word. Thou hast banished the
Jews, thou hast given the rack, the gibbet and the stake to the
Christian heretics, thou wilt kill and exile the Moors. But beware, we
are the growers of rice and sugar, of cotton and silk, how will Spain
live when these fail?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Enough! Cool thy Moorish spleen in the dungeon. When fasting
brings discretion, thou mayest talk more soberly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hafiz</span>—Glut thy pious hatred as the priests and fanatic Kings dictate.
Spain's life is the price! Her glory will go with the going of the
Moor.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><span class="smcap">General</span>—Away with him.</p>
<p>(<i>The guards march the Moors off the stage.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—He hath an evil tongue.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—The honor of Spain is not to be attacked. (<i>To Pedro.</i>) He must
have no food until I give thee word.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit Pedro. Enter Rodriguez.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Father, I tried to see thee last night, and thy door was
closed to me. I craved but thy blessing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—I know of thy bravery. All Spain will praise thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I want no praise.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Thou hast chosen thy way. Is it bitter so soon?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Can it be aught but bitter when thou hast turned against me?
Am I not of thy blood, flesh of thy flesh?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Why dost thou come back to me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Last night when I faced the Moor, Death stood grinning at my
side, and I was afraid. Suddenly I thought of thee and my childhood. I
forgot everything that success or failure might bring, I fought only to
win thy love. My arm grew strong, and the grim spectre at my side faded,
for Love was stronger than Death!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Hast thou given up this girl?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) No!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Coldly.</i>) It shall be my duty to report to the King and ask
for thy promotion. Thou art a brave soldier, and Spain will not be slow
to honor thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I seek no honor from my country-men.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> I beg only for thy
love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Sneering.</i>) Art thou a soldier or a troubadour that love is
always on thy lips?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I am thy son.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—I speak to Lieutenant don Rodriguez de Lerma.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Thy son.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) I have no son!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Later in the Same Day</span></span></p>
<p>(<i>Lagrimas is discovered leaning far over the wall.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Brave little lad, brave little lad, the limb of the tree will
hold thee, and then my hand. Come, steady, steady....</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—My arm!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Did I hurt? Steady, little lad. (<i>Tarik climbs over the
wall.</i>) Brave little lad—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas and Tarik</span>—(<i>Together.</i>) Thou art an infidel!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I thought thou wast a Spanish boy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—I thought thou wast my mother. The blood was in my eyes, I could
not see. Now, I must throw myself down again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Little fool, is not once with death enough?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—I am Tarik, son of Hafiz the Moor, and Cafour his wife. I will
not live to be the slave of a Christian.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I won't eat thee, dirty infidel! (<i>Shakes Tarik and he all but
faints on her hands.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> <i>She is smitten with remorse and stanches the blood which flows from his
head.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—If thou wouldst not be a slave, why didst thou come back?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—There are soldiers in the valley.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—There are soldiers here, hundreds of them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—(<i>Half sobbing.</i>) I—I wanted my mother.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—(<i>Tenderly.</i>) Little lamb, little lamb.</p>
<p>(<i>General and Pedro enter, closely followed by Feliciana. Lagrimas tries
to get away with Tarik whom she shields with her dress. They escape to
the turret.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Pedro, thou art unveiled!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Sh!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Unveiled, and not an hour since thou didst swear—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—I swore only to please thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Is the dancer always at thy side?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—She is a dancer no longer, General.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—I am not so sure, Pedro. There was thy part to the bargain.
If thou failest, I shall not answer for my feet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—I pray thee, Feliciana,—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Do not attempt to silence me, a bargain's a bargain. I
promised to cover my feet, only if thou wouldst cover thy face. Where is
the veil I gave thee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Why must thou shame me before the General?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—(<i>Fumbling in Pedro's coat and</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> <i>bringing forth a veil.</i>)
There, put it on.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Why art thou veiled, Pedro?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—I never meant to wear it. It is a whim of hers because I spoke
against her dancing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Thou must learn not to break hearts. Handsome men are
dangerous to be adventuring through the land in these days. It were
better to veil them all, than have maidens' hopes go smashing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Who will succumb to Pedro?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—There are women among the Moorish prisoners. Pedro will
flaunt his tempting face before them every day. It were sinful if they
should love a Christian, and die of hopeless affection.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—(<i>Contemptuously.</i>) Moriscoes!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—In the city, Señora Jacinta is pining for him already, and
Lagrimas, the bull-fighter's daughter, will singe her wings on the altar
of his beauty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) Lagrimas!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Curse my alluring face!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Nay, Pedro, thou canst show it to me at intervals, and I will
let thee have a little peep at my ankles. It will refresh us in our
modesty.</p>
<p>(<i>General withdraws to side of stage.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Tsch! It is all an invention of thine to make me suffer for
scolding thee. These tales of succumbing maidens are false. Thou dost
know Señora Jacinta is a child of ten, and Lagrimas hath bestowed her
heart ... elsewhere.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Jacinta will grow up, and Lagrimas is free. She must be
protected from thy subtle charms.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Lagrimas is not free. She hath a lover who is mad for her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—The lover hath been discarded, Lagrimas will none of him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) Santissima Maria, my son!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Now, I will not have thee create havoc. Thou must hide thy
loveliness behind a veil, or thou too shalt be discarded, and the city
can mock thee also.</p>
<p>(<i>General arises in silent rage and walks back and forth.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—(<i>To Feliciana.</i>) The lover of Lagrimas is—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—I know!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—This discussion! The General's pride!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—It is time he understood that people do not lie in the road
to keep his haughty feet free of dust.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter Rodriguez. Lagrimas again attempts to steal off with Tarik—but
is discovered by the General.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Who goes there?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—(<i>Stops them.</i>) Santa Maria, a miracle!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Who is this boy?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—It is the boy who was killed!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Killed?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—The woman's boy who flung himself over the wall. He must have
been killed. It is a miracle.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Hold him! (<i>To Lagrimas.</i>) Thou, what art thou doing here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I came to help the boy. I saw him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> struggling up the face of
the wall. He is hurt, let me care for him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—(<i>Sternly.</i>) He is a prisoner.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Surely thou dost not fight against children, as well as women?
Let me care for him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Lieutenant Don Rodriguez, wilt thou explain that our King deems
it a crime against holy church to aid or shelter the infidels?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—My word will have little weight.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Love should make thy tongue eloquent.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>To Lagrimas.</i>) Do not bother with the child, let Pedro take
him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Has success withered thy brave heart, soldier?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Wilt thou not understand? Interference may spell death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Better my body, than my soul to die. (<i>To General.</i>) Is there
no pity in thee? Does thy lust for conquest extend to babies?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—It is for thy safety he pleads.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I do not need his pleading.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Is it thus thou showest love for Don Rodriguez?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I have not said I love Don Rodriguez.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Hast thou not promised to marry him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—No, no, no!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I have no power to either make her love or marry me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—No power! The man who captured Hafiz the Moor, to have no power
with a woman!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—A woman is difficult.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Dost thou not know, the people in the streets say she flouts
thee, and mock thee for a sorry lover?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—They will talk anyway.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—Where is thy pride? Wilt thou have them jest at thee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—What have I to do with pride?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">General</span>—If thou wouldst be a son of mine, marry her out of hand. Marry
her, I say! Scorn Don Rodriguez, the jade! It is intolerable.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Thy father must be a terrible care, Don Rodriguez.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—He is not always easy to understand.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Thou dost not manage him right. Bring his Castilian nose
nearer the earth. There are wholesome smells he is missing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—(<i>Shocked.</i>) Feliciana!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Feliciana</span>—Pedro, I'm going to dance, I feel I'm going to dance. Throw
thy veil away. Beauty should never be hidden.</p>
<p>(<i>Pedro throws the veil over the wall.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pedro</span>—Feliciana!</p>
<p>(<i>Pedro and Feliciana exeunt laughing.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—(<i>Shyly.</i>) The little fellow is hurt.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—He is faint. Let me get some wine.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—(<i>Sobbing.</i>) I will not drink wine. It is forbidden.... I want my
mother.... She will make me well.... I want my mother.</p>
<p>(<i>Lagrimas and Rodriguez catch him as he</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> <i>faints.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—See, his eyes are open again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—I am well. Let me stand alone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Thou art a brave lad despite thy brown skin.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter soldier.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span>—The General says the boy prisoner is to go with his mother.</p>
<p>(<i>Tarik looks at Lagrimas, then stoops and kisses the hem of her
dress.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tarik</span>—Allah will bless thee, and thy little children. It is written.
(<i>Exit with soldier.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Lagrimas and Don Rodriguez sit as they were in the opening scene.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—It is just as it was last night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>Quietly.</i>) But I have captured Hafiz.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—And thou speakest neither of thy bravery nor thy—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—I am getting wisdom.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Too much wisdom will make a monk of thee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>After a pause.</i>) I think the stars will shine to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—(<i>Piqued.</i>) Oh, dost thou?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—The air is blowing up a little sharp.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Maria be adored, there is always the weather.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Of what else shall I speak?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Of thee and—oh anything!</p>
<p>(<i>Silence. Guitars tinkle in the valley.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—Dost hear the guitars?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—No.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—I can hear them plainly. The señor is a constant lover; she
will yield to him soon.... What has stopped thine ears?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—The beating of my heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—A soldier's heart—(<i>stops suddenly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Hast thou lost something?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—It is no matter. I do not want it back.</p>
<p>(<i>Looks fixedly at his coat until he fidgets.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—Why dost thou stare? Is my coat—?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—What I lost, it has gone inside thy breast. I saw it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>Bewildered.</i>) I—oh—what is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lagrimas</span>—My heart, most beautifully stupid, my heart!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Rodriguez</span>—(<i>Clasping her.</i>) Lagrimas!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(CURTAIN)</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE TURTLE DOVE</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">A Chinese Play</span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Cast</span></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chang-Sut-Yen</span>, son of <span class="smcap">Chang-Won-Yin</span>, the <span class="smcap">Great</span>, <i>ruler of the Province of Canton</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Mandarin.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Kwen-Lin</span>, <i>His daughter</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">The God of Fate</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Property Man.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Gong Bearer.</span></td></tr></table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">The Turtle Dove</span></p>
<p><i>The play is acted in the Chinese manner, without stage setting. The
back drop is painted to represent a Willow plate. Chorus is present at
the left side of the stage throughout the action, to explain the story,
announce the characters as they appear, and thank the audience for its
interest. The Property Man, in a black costume, remains at the back of
the stage. At various specified times, he hands the necessary properties
to the several characters, from a small box beside him. When not
occupied with stage work, he spends the time reading a Chinese paper,
and smoking a pipe or cigarette.</i></p>
<p><i>All the persons in the play are in blue and white costumes, to make the
plate picture. The Gong-Bearer may be in royal yellow, and Chorus in
emerald green.</i></p>
<p><i>The Curtain is drawn slightly open, and the Gong-bearer appears, strikes
the gong three times very slowly and ten times rapidly, then walks to
the right side of the stage, and stands there throughout the play.
Chorus appears between the parted curtains, holds up his left hand while
the Gong-bearer strikes once, then addresses the audience in a very
suave manner.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—Most illustrious friends, I deliver the three bows to Heaven,
Earth, and Man, (<i>bows ceremoniously to right, left, and centre</i>) and
obtrude myself on your exalted vision that you may know the meaning of
our poor play. The story deals with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> the always new love of youth for
maid, the abrupt tempering of a father's wrath to forgiveness, and the
immutability of Fate.</p>
<p>Our hero, Chang-sut-yen, (<i>Chang-sut-yen appears between the curtains,
bows to right, left and centre, then disappears behind the curtains</i>)
will come before you as a servant, but in reality he is none other than
the son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, ruler of this province of Canton.
(<i>Gong-bearer strikes the gong.</i>) The God of Fate decreed that he should
be known as a turtle dove, and have his image forever emblazoned on the
shining surface of a Willow plate. To avert this calamitous ending to
his august life, Chang-sut-yen has fled the home of his father, and
entered the service of a rich and powerful Mandarin, where he hopes, by
virtue of his obscure position, to escape the notice of the God. But, as
we have said, Fate is immutable, what the God plans must ever be,
despite the efforts of puny man.</p>
<p>You will see the Mandarin, (<i>Mandarin appears, bows, and disappears</i>)
rich, proud, majestic, with eyes for everything that may tend to make
him more powerful, but superbly blind to virtue and worth in the humble.</p>
<p>Kwen-lin, his daughter (<i>Kwen-lin appears, bows, and retires</i>) is swayed
by love alone; a dangerous practice usually, but in this story, one
begging your approval. Do not judge her harshly, in that her heart leads
her. Remember she is a woman. Much may be forgiven women.</p>
<p>(<i>The Property Man appears, bows, and looks inquiringly at Chorus, who
hesitates an instant, and</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> <i>then, as if fulfilling a rather unpleasant
duty, proceeds.</i>) I would I might ignore the Property Man. He composed a
version of this poetic tale, putting in all the ugly truths, and
serenely forgetting all the possible flower like episodes. As artists we
could not consider it. (<i>Property Man with a slight shrug leaves
stage.</i>) The Property Man is not sufficiently large minded to accept our
ripe and impartial opinion. He is superbly indifferent to the luminous
fruit from his successful rival's quill, and will probably sulk through
his duties. That you may not be disturbed by his presence, we have
clothed him invisibly in black, and you will therefore be spared the
pain of seeing him at all.</p>
<p>I fear I have kept you all too long from the feast prepared for your
delectation. If my brothers behind the curtain show not that histrionic
merit you so rightly demand, I pray you be lenient, and listen with
ears, and see with eyes, not too critical. I conduct you at once to the
moon-lit garden of the wealthy Mandarin, where Chang-sut-yen is
loitering, hoping to meet there the Mandarin's beautiful daughter,
Kwen-lin, who smiles on him. Is it not traditionally the fashion of
women to adore most that youth who is forbidden?</p>
<p>I bow to you for your attentively honorable ears. I bow. I bow.
(<i>Gong-bearer strikes gong. Chorus walks to left of stage, and curtains
are pulled apart, revealing Chang-sut-yen standing before the back
drop.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin
lo, bor lo un doy.</i> Kwen-lin will know that song. It is nothing, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
says nothing, therefore it is pregnant with meaning, and my Bright
Water-lily will understand. (<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy,
chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.</i> She will come, dancing like sun-rays
on the flowers of my mind, and I will press my honorable lips to hers,
and our solemn breaths will mingle. Though I seem but a servant, I am
Chang-sut-yen, son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, ruler of this province.
(<i>Gong-bearer strikes gong.</i>) I am also the most glorious lover the Gods
have made. My soul was fashioned from the wind of Heaven, and the purple
fire of the mountain peak. My illustrious body is the sturdy tree to
which maidens will ever sigh their timid love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—It is the Mandarin who walks this way.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin
lo, bor lo un doy</i>,—who comes? Alas, not Kwen-lin the fragrant, but my
master. He will spit anger that I linger in the garden. I must summon my
snake tongue to puzzle his cow-brain, lest he suspect I wait for her. I
will divest myself of my honorable senses, and speak with an empty head.
I will be gloriously fool possessed. (<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor lo
un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.</i></p>
<p>(<i>Enter Mandarin.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—The night is full of chill. If the God of Frost bites his
sharp teeth into my fruit trees, they will perish. Br-r-r, cold!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Clasping Mandarin in his arms.</i>) August one, the white
moon lady slumbers in the chamber of Heaven, while I wait for you to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
light the path of my dreams.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Ancestors, save me!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—We will make loud prayers to the tablets of our
magnificently worthy ancestors after we embrace. Let me pluck you, and
wear you across my heart, before your flower beauty fades.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—(<i>Recognizing him.</i>) Miserable three footed dog, what maiden
did you think to greet?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—I press to my superb breast only your lily feet,
honorable Cherry Blossom.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I am no Cherry Blossom.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—You are all the Cherry Blossoms in the Garden of Earth,
shedding perfume and petals with every sighing breeze.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I shed nothing but the light of Truth and Justice.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—My heart cracks with love for you, and your tasks. At
night when sleep seals the minds of other servants, I journey forth to
count again your dazzling possessions. Your peach trees bend before me,
and I am blinded. I beg to work for you until Death sews a black seam in
my brain, and I go to my ancestors.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—You have departed your unhappy wits. I give you to-morrow to
offer gifts to the gods. Pursue sleep, and think not of my possessions,
but rather of your venerable poverty. Your august brain is not large
enough for Death to waste thread on. Thread is costly. Away with you,
and rest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—May your golden finger nails grow, and grow, and grow,
until they grasp all wealth and honor. (<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
<i>lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.</i></p>
<p>(<i>Exit Chang, singing.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—He is a faithful dog, who begs but a kick to make him lick my
hand. I have given him too many tasks. He is bereft of his toad mind. I
dislike a man who sings as he works. Life does not plan it so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—Kwen-lin, Bright Water-Lily, comes to meet her lover.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter Kwen-lin, singing. Property Man hands her a branch of
blossoms.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Singing.</i>) <i>Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo,
bor lo un doy.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—The mad one croaked that. (<i>Turns back and sings.</i>) <i>Bor lo un
doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo</i>,—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Clasping him.</i>) Supreme lover! The happy breezes dance when
your voice is the lute.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—My important ears to be so assailed! The world box collapses,
and tumbles round me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Noble father! I thought it was my—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Your?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—My singing bird.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—A Cherry Blossom, and a singing bird! An illustrious choice
for a man of high position.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—You sound very like a singing bird.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Something has broken in their heads. Spring has tangled the
brain threads. It must be Spring!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—It is Spring, and soon it will be superb Summer, then Fall,
then Winter. The year gone pff! like that, and miserable life flower
desolated.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Before the honorable year goes pff! like that, you will be an
exalted wife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—A wife! I, a wife?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—For seventeen years of moons, your nurses and teachers have
polished you into a state of passable excellence. You are very wonderful
as foolish little girls go. You are something of a somebody.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—But to what impressive man are my charms to be presented?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—(<i>Looking at invisible garden.</i>) This late frost will surely
steal the jewels in my garden. The servant Chang must cover the iris. I
can trust Chang.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—You marry me to Chang-sut-yen?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Do I throw my child of five thousand and one delectable graces
into the arms of a servant? I was speaking of my garden.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—If I am to wed, let us speak of husbands.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Ah, many men have sought to wed you, but I have turned their
eyes away, until the sublime one should ask.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—To whom do I go?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—To the greatest of all! To be dazzled, to be petted, to be
surrounded by every superior luxury.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Impatiently.</i>) To whom do I go?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—There is honor and eminence the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> alliance will give me, and
money it will add to my already considerable store. We will not, as a
matter of policy, show we are flattered. We will be proud, we will be
haughty, we will drive a shrewd bargain when the wealthy Ta-yin of
Canton would make you his bride.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—The Ta-yin of Canton! I will not marry the Ta-yin of Canton!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—What strange words do your lips produce? Does my daughter
oppose her insect mind to mine?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—I will not marry the Ta-yin of Canton. He's ugly, he's bold,
he's yellow as—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Gold!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—He shakes when he walks—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—He's a—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Hundred years old! My heart would crack with grief were I to
marry him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I never yet heard that any maiden died of grief at the
prospect of being a bride.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Br-r-r-r!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—(<i>Jumping.</i>) What was that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—My heart cracking. Death is clutching for me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—(<i>Wearily.</i>) Go away, Death. Take her, if you must, after she
is wed. The wealthy Ta-yin can better bear the sad expenses.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—I'm dying now, dying, dying. It's quite delicious! (<i>Lies
down. Property Man puts a blue cushion under her head.</i>) I'm almost
dead!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—You can't die like this. It's most absurd, besides being
unbeautiful.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Have no fear, my death will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> magnificently beautiful. I
have practiced many times, and know.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Get up, fox soul!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Sitting up.</i>) Have respect for my solemnly departing life.
My heart will not throb longer. (<i>Lies down.</i>) I am dead!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—(<i>Prodding her with foot.</i>) Get up, get up, get up! I must
carry her! (<i>Stoops, and puts arms under Kwen-lin.</i>) Oh, for the strong
muscles of my lusty young arms. We have fed her too well. She weighs
many pounds. (<i>Stands up, and claps hands. Chang-sut-yen enters.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—My serene mind presents itself to you, great master.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Sleep should be gathering up the ends of your serene mind, but
it is as well. My daughter's honorable body has persuaded itself to seek
its illustrious ancestors—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Kneeling beside Kwen-lin.</i>) Kwen-lin dead, dead! Then
let the lady moon fall from the mighty loft of Heaven, and burn my life
to ashes of wistaria!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Your overwhelming grief at my bereavement becomes a servant,
but let not the pockets of your eyes fill with tears. Bear her to the
house. She shall be whipped alive! (<i>Kwen-lin shudders.</i>) The sublime
wasp shakes at that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Bending over Kwen-lin, and looking into her wide open
eyes.</i>) It was a death throe, exalted one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Can your arms support her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—I lift a Cherry Blossom with more effort.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Speak not of Cherry Blossoms. Pick her up. (<i>Chang starts to
lift Kwen-lin.</i>) No, no, that is not wise. How shall we do it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Craftily.</i>) I can guard the crystal vase of her
departed soul, while you go for help.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—It had not penetrated my disturbed brain. I go for help.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit Mandarin.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Sitting up.</i>) Superb love mate!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Hurriedly.</i>) Augustly enter the world of the venerable
dead again, luscious one, your honorable father looks this way.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Lying down.</i>) Do your eyes grow pearls that I am with my
ancestors?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—The love butterflies are winging in the happy recesses of
my heart. My breath will smother me with joy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Sitting up.</i>) Joy, when my father is going to marry me to
the Ta-yin of Canton?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Exalted joy, because before that can happen my father
will have the Ta-yin beheaded.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—An orphan has no father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—I have a celestial now and then father, who does these
necessary but disagreeable things. I think he will dispose of the
wealthy Ta-yin if I ask him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—It must be a wonderful convenience. We will make a list of all
those superbly annoying persons we do not like, and have your celestial
now and then father, behead them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—We will ponder it, Bright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> Water-lily, when we are not
serenely happy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—I do not like being whipped alive! My teeth chatter when I
think of it, and I can't be happy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—A base whip to touch you! Nay, my lips shall make you
live. (<i>Kisses her.</i>) I am gloriously versed in lip magic. (<i>Kisses her
again.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Let us fly on our illustrious legs, and be married with the
six ceremonies, before my father returns. I like that lip magic. It
makes singing here.</p>
<p>(<i>Kwen-lin touches heart. She and Chang-sut-yen exeunt. The Property Man
looks around the stage slowly, glances in the property box, then
saunters casually off.</i>)</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—I bow.</p>
<p>(<i>Chorus leaves stage followed by Gong-bearer.</i>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>Scene II</i></span></p>
<p>(<i>Chorus again appears before the closed curtains, and raises his left
hand, while the Gong-bearer, who has walked to his original position at
the right side of the stage strikes the Gong once.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—Many perfumed months have passed since Chang-sut-yen wedded
Kwen-lin, and each has added a white hibiscus blossom to the garland of
life. But now bitter winter comes, snow is on the paeony hill, the hosts
of evil are abroad. The Mandarin, with never ending rage, has spent the
months searching throughout the Empire to discover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> their dwelling
place. Now he has learned where it is, and pursues Chang-sut-yen with a
death dealing thong, which he will wield with dire results. It is the
pleasure of the illustrious author that the villain act in a supremely
unpleasant manner, in order to bring out the tenderness of the play. Our
lovers, not knowing this is a comedy, (and therefore must conclude with
smiles and feasting), are overwhelmed with fear. I beg you not to share
this fear, except inasmuch as it may make the after enjoyment of the
happy ending more piquant and superbly satisfying.</p>
<p>I bow to you, and conduct you to the home of Chang-sut-yen, and
Kwen-lin, his wife.</p>
<p>(<i>Gong-bearer strikes gong. Chorus walks to his place at the left of
stage. The Curtains are drawn apart, and reveal Chang-sut-yen, and
Kwen-lin. The Property Man is at the back of the stage, as before.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Is my august father yet stamping on the road? Peep out of the
door, heroic one, and show but part of one eye, lest the radiance from
both light the world like stars, and he swoop upon us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Looking out of imaginary doorway.</i>) I see not his angry
body.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—I would not face him here. Let us go outside, and sit neath
the eaves of the pagoda. He may miss our presence, and leave without
shattering this temple of our love dreams.</p>
<p>(<i>Property Man opens invisible door, they descend two steps and sit
down, and Property Man closes the door.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Little humming bird, your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> heart wings beat wildly
against my solemn breast.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—His fiery breath will wither our blood. Feel how it scorches
the grey veil of night. He is coming to consume us, he is coming to
consume us! I fear his terrible rage.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Nay, tremble not, for I, your lover, shelter you in my
heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—The Mandarin comes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Sadly.</i>) The wine cup is drained, the love songs all are
silenced.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter Mandarin.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Base thief and destroyer, at last I have found the hole in
which you hide!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—A lover seeks only food for his love. If he destroys or
thieves what matter? Love is first.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—My tongue sends flame into your viper soul. Go to your
ancestors, they beckon you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Let us escape across the bridge!</p>
<p>(<i>Property Man holds bamboo stick horizontally for bridge.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Why should we flee?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Why should we perish? To the bridge! We will outrun him.</p>
<p>(<i>They run onto bridge.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Grasping bamboo.</i>) The bridge shakes. Its ribs are
rotten. We will fall into the water.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—(<i>Off stage.</i>) I fall, I drown!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Bright Water-lily, float upon the water's face.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I pull down your star from Heaven's dome.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—My star dropped to Earth, when the light of hers failed.</p>
<p>(<i>Property Man hands whip to Mandarin.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I strike with my exalted whip. By the God of Fate, you die!</p>
<p>(<i>Strikes Chang with whip. Chang falls. Gong-bearer strikes gong. The
God of Fate, wearing grotesque mask, enters.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—Who calls me to the world of men?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—What unknown fear are you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—I am the God of Fate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—I have sent a dog to death. (<i>Stoops and takes a small red bag
from Chang's breast.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—Chang-sut-yen is mine! He must not die.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—My exulting mind does not record your meaning.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—(<i>Stooping over Chang, and putting the red bag back.</i>)
Chang-sut-yen, son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, I give you back your
heart! (<i>Gong-bearer strikes gong.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mandarin</span>—Chang-sut-yen, son of Heaven! I bow in the dust three times.
(<i>Prostrates himself.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—(<i>To Chang.</i>) Arise, and continue your exalted life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—(<i>Rising.</i>) My path is lost in crookedness until I join
her. Let me go.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—The gods have not yet dried the ink on the pages of your book of
life. You must live, to live upon a Willow plate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—And be broken by the heavy hand of august Time, and
unkind Chance. (<i>Property Man hands knife to Chang.</i>) With this frosty
blade, I cut the circle of life, and press my lips to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> the jade cup of
nothingness. I am a lover bereft of my mate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—You must live! (<i>Touches Chang's arm with staff. The knife falls
to the ground. Property Man picks it up, and puts it back in the
property box.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—Kwen-lin, I leap across the river of Heaven to your arms!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—She is not dead. She dreams, and smiles upon the bosom of the
water.</p>
<p>(<i>To Kwen-lin.</i>) Awake! Awake!</p>
<p>(<i>Kwen-lin enters, and goes to Chang.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—Your sublime father, Chang-won-yin, has gone to his ancestors. You
are Chang-sut-yen, the Great, ruler of this province.</p>
<p>(<i>Gong-bearer strikes gong.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—I renounce my rule. I am a lover, not a ruler.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—You are a turtle dove. (<i>To Mandarin.</i>) To your home, and set
forth majestic feasting. Chang-sut-yen will honor your house. He rules.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chang-sut-yen</span>—I rule not. I am a lover.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Kwen-lin</span>—Exalted one, a lover is a turtle dove.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fate</span>—It is sometimes given to women to know the truth. Thus Fate is
fulfilled, and Chang-sut-yen, the turtle dove, will live upon a Willow
plate.</p>
<p>(<i>Gong-bearer strikes the gong twice.</i>)</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Chorus</span>—For your eager ears, for your shining eyes, for your smiling
faces, I bow, I bow, I bow.</p>
<p>(<i>Chorus followed by the Gong-bearer goes behind the curtains.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">THIS YOUTH—GENTLEMEN!</span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">A Fantasy</span></span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Cast</span></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Man.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Boy.</span></td></tr></table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">This Youth—Gentlemen!</span></p>
<p><i>Scene I—A narrow lane sharply ascending the hill-side. In the distance
a lake shimmers in the sunlight. As the curtain rises the BOY is
discovered sitting on a huge boulder. He curiously watches the
approaching MAN.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—The road is narrow.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Curtly.</i>) I like it so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I have followed you from the valley.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Moving aside.</i>) I'll follow you up the hill.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Smiling.</i>) I may wait here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—I may play. (<i>He throws a stone across the waters, and laughs as it
strikes the surface.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Sharply.</i>) Now! You have disturbed the frogs and hidden green
things!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—A ripple on the waters! It's the smile that quick adorns my lady's
face when I tell.... A little ripple—it whispers of spring and youth to
the hidden green things. I am glad I flung the stone!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Youth! A braggart word employed by fools and poets who have not
lived.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Youth! A magic word, the talisman of those who seek the promised
land!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) I seek the world of yesterday!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—We left it ... yesterday. Your road lies back in the valley.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I carry a chart in my breast, it marks the place where yesterday
stands. This lane leads there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—It leads to the land of promise.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I carry a chart in my breast....</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Your chart, it lies! I'm going on; follow if you like.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—What shall you, who have not lived, do when we reach the world of
yesterday?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Show you my land of promise.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Then haste!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Never fear. My feet are swift.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Scene II—A ledge between a deep ravine and the mountain. Night.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Dear lad, let us rest here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Laughing.</i>) This is the edge of the world.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Sit not too near, I beg you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—I'll dangle my legs over the cliff, and watch the shadow of the
devil diminish.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Lying wearily on the ground.</i>) To flutter like a feather from the
wing of a soaring eagle—to lie unseen and forgotten among the dead
leaves of the forest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Come, and see the shadow.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I feel it on my heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—The devil made that chart you boast about!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—And locked it in my breast.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—It has taken away your peace.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Peace! To hear that name on all men's lips, to search and search
and never know its habitation.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—They say: He that pursueth, never shall overtake!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>To himself.</i>) Desires die, ideals are forgotten, love passes
away. The mantel of eternal snow envelops all men, what shall escape?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Youth!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Which knows not life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Must one experience to know?... Do I not feel?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—In all these days we have been together, what have you felt for me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—That you sowed wisely, but knew not how to garner. You speak of
ideals lost—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I am not sure I ever had them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Is it work or play, love or life, your ideal of yesterday?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Yesterday! Did it ever exist?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—It died the night of its birth, and vanished in rose smoke, making
incense to the gods who once reigned.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Who told you all this?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—My lady—in the twilight.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Your lady?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—She sent me to find the promised land. She will come when I am
there. My heart is strong, and I can wait for her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—My heart was strong and passionate; it pulses no longer like a
man's, but serves to beat out the unconsidered tickings of the ashen
days.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Then sit with me, be a child, and laugh at the shadow. So faith may
come again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—The day is breaking.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Whimsically.</i>) Alas, the shadow's gone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
and you have not seen it! Look yonder at the little stream, it leaps
like a white flame down the grey old rocks.</p>
<p>(<i>They peer over the cliff together.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—I smell the living earth.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—I want to climb the mountain side. Who knows what treasures may be
there?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) I know the place—the place above.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Have you been there?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—No.... I dreamed and thought to reach it once, but lost the way.</p>
<p>(<i>They climb together.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Why do you laugh?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—My blood has turned to flame. I feel it burning in my body.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—The morning sun is in your veins. I know.... What do you see?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—(<i>Whispering.</i>) Your land of promise!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—It is not so! My land of promise is more beautiful than anything
one may imagine!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—This is more beautiful.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—I would know if this were it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—This is the land I say. Laugh with me and shout. The shadow of the
devil has gone. I have found the place and myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Not so! The place is farther off, and higher. I am not content with
this!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Man</span>—Come with me, youth, to the summit!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Eagerly.</i>) I'll climb with you.... I'll climb ... to the summit!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE STRIKER</span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Cast</span></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">John Quinn</span>, <i>A mortorman on strike</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>, <i>His wife</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Molly</span>, <i>His daughter</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bill Martin</span>, <i>A neighbor, also on strike</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>, <i>His wife</i>.</td></tr></table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">The Striker</span></p>
<p><i>Scene—A dining room in a workman's home. Plain but scrupulously neat
and clean. Door L leads to kitchen. Door R leads to front door. Mrs.
Quinn is seated at centre table darning socks and talking to her
neighbor, Mrs. Martin.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—(<i>Dropping a few pennies into a purse, and shutting it with
a snap.</i>) Seven weeks, and not one cent coming in. I don't know how
we'll live, if it keeps up much longer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—A strike's a bitter thing Mrs. Martin, and no one knowin'
how it will end.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Why can't they talk it out? It seems to me if the motormen
and conductors sent a committee to the company, they might arrive at an
understanding.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—But the company don't take stock in the Union, and a
committee of men would be a Union committee, or nothin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Let them arbitrate, I say, let them arbitrate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—It's a nice soundin' word, is arbitrate, but no one wants to
do it, save them as ain't interested. A man hits with his fist first,
and arbitrates afterwards,—in the police court.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Men are queer creatures. There's my Bill, a more religious
man never walked, if I do say it myself, and yet he's as bitter as
poison against the company.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Religion don't always kill bitterness—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—This morning I wakened up before five o'clock, and he
wasn't in bed. I went down stairs to see what had happened, and found
him sneaking in the back gate like a thief. Heaven only knows what he
was doing outside at that time in the morning. Mischief, I'll bet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Aye, it was mischief, and my old man in it too. I got it out
of John when he came back. They had been out before the dawn, pryin' up
trolley tracks with a crow-bar.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs Martin</span>—A fine mess if they'd been caught.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Locked up, that's what would have happened, nice pair of old
fools that they are!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—It must be devilish though, to have strike breakers come in
and run the cars, while the men are sticking out for a principle.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—A principle's a fine excuse now and then, for a bunch of men
to fight behind.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—But this is a principle worth fighting for.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Maybe it is.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—I wish you'd go to the lectures at the Lyceum with me.
You'd understand things better. My, I miss your Molly. We heard so many
wonderful men talk, and she was so quick getting their ideas, it was
just great to be with her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Well, you know, she'd <i>tell</i> me about them when she got
home. I remember that first man who talked of the virtue of humility and
self-sacrifice. Molly was that full of onselfishness after hearin' him,
that she almost gave her job to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> Jennie Tubbs, thinkin' <i>she</i> needed the
money more than we did.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—That was Prof. William Mason. He was a noble character.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Aye, but he didn't last. He was followed by the moral
uplifter one. Sure, we lived on pins and needles then! After him we had
a course in sanitation, and pure food, and how to feed a fam'ly of six
on $4.00 a week. Oh, them last was wonderful fairy tales. The meals that
woman could manufacture out of an old ham bone! It was past belief.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—I tried a few of her receipts, but Bill wouldn't eat the
things I made. He said he wasn't a horse yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Aw, she was a joker, I'm thinkin', put in the pack to
lighten the others up a bit. Lectures is an easy way of gettin' scraps
of learnin', but it's done neither of ye lastin' hurt that I can see.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—I heard the walking delegate talk this afternoon. The men
got pretty excited listening to him. He told them their rights, and
it'll be a wonder to me, if they don't do a good bit of damage to the
Company's property before this thing ends.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—The walkin' delegate's a smart lad, from all I hear.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—He's smart enough to get paid for the work he does.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—He gets paid for startin' strikes, is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—He goes all over the country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> telling the men when to
strike, and what to strike for. He gets paid for that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—But the men don't get paid for strikin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—That's a silly idea, Mrs. Quinn.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—You can have it for what it's worth. Molly used to say I had
more ideas than a dog has fleas, but I fancy she was just slatherin' me
over with the blarney.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Well, I believe the walking delegate's right. The men must
fight this out to a finish.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—It's likely to be our finish, alright, alright.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—(<i>Unconsciously imitating the delegate.</i>) It's not only for
ourselves, but for our children that the war must be waged.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Our children! Sure, it shouldn't be a bequeathment job, this
trolley business.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—He says our children will be saved a fight for their
rights, if we conquer now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Whist darlin', our children will have their own notion of
rights and fights by the time they grow up. They can blow on their own
broth when it bubbles over.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—But the noble way is to consider the ones who come after
us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Maybe that's so, me dear Mrs. Martin, but I'm after lookin'
out for the man of to-day. The better off we are, the better off our
kids'll be.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—The walking delegate says that's a very selfish way of
looking at it.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—The walkin' delegate's got the fine words in his mouth.</p>
<p>(<i>Silence.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Have you heard from Molly lately?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Poor darlin', I got a letter from her this mornin'. She's
comin' home.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Does Mr. Quinn know?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I'll have it out with him to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—He's a pretty stubborn man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I'll bring him around, never fear.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—I think you're a wonderful woman, the way you manage him,
Mrs. Quinn.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Sure it's just me knowledge of that, keeps me goin'. When I
lose conceit of meself, I'll be fit for no place but—Heaven.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—(<i>Listens, with finger uplifted.</i>) Sh! That's Bill slamming
the back gate. I'll go put the kettle on. A cup of hot tea soon takes
all the ugly kinks out of him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—It's an upliftin' beverage, is tea. It does miracles for my
old man, when he has his back up.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—(<i>Going to door L. then hesitating.</i>) I'm not a specially
religious woman, Mrs. Quinn, and I've never heard you say much about it,
but I think now that everything else has failed and the strike seems no
nearer an end, we might as well take it to God in prayer. As Bill says,
we've tried every other way.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) Well, I guess Gawd's used to bein' the last on
the list, so I'll join ye in yer prayers, Mrs. Martin. Good-night to
ye.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>(<i>Exit Mrs Martin door L.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Mrs. Quinn pulls down the blind and fusses about the room. There is a
sharp bang on the front door. She leaves room R. and returns with the
evening paper. Looks out the window again, raising the blind ever so
little, then sits at table, and opens the paper.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Reads—then.</i>) Nothin' but strike, strike, strike,
wherever ye look. A few cents an hour more, a few hours a week less,
what a little to fight for, and yet they won't get it, they won't get
it.</p>
<p>(<i>Quinn enters door L. Hangs hat and coat on rack near kitchen door.
Sits in chair at side of table, and is noticeably nervous.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>After a pause, during which they both steal furtive glances at
one another.</i>) Well?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I see yer home again. Anything doin'?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Nothin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Tartly.</i>) Well, it's a fine husky way for a man to be
makin' a livin' for his wife, throwin' up his good job as a motorman,
and walkin' the streets.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Moodily.</i>) Good job,—hell!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I don't see what way ye'll pay for shoe leather, if ye don't
get some money soon.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—We'll live. The Union won't see us go under for the lack of a
dollar or two.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I don't like livin' on the Union.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—We ain't beggars yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—We're not far from it, Gawd knows.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>(<i>Picks up paper, and again reads. A pause.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Irritably.</i>) Can't ye stop rattlin' that paper?</p>
<p>(<i>Mrs. Quinn glances at him casually, and calmly proceeds with her
reading. It is the sort of calm that arouses temper in a jumpy person.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Springing up.</i>) Stop that infernal noise! Seems like a man
might have peace in his own house. Here I am walkin' the streets all
day, with me legs and head that tired I'm ready to drop, and when I get
home at night, a clatter that would wake the dead, in me ears.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Yer blood may be Irish, John Quinn, but yer nerves are
American.... I never saw such a changed man in me life. It's bad enough
to have ye walk out on strike—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Now see here, I didn't walk out on strike, and ye know it. I'd be
workin' yet if the Union hadn't told us to lay off until we got our
rights.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Ye'll rot before ye get yer rights, I'm thinkin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Maybe, maybe so.</p>
<p>(<i>Silence again.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Putting down paper.</i>) I see the walking delegate discussed
the strike at an elegant banquet at the Hotel Hoffman last night. Ye
know, <i>he</i> don't seem to suffer no privation. Mrs. Martin says he gets a
princely wage for orderin' strikes all over the country. No wonder he's
in earnest about his job.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Some one has to lead the men.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I fancy he wouldn't lead far, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> his wage stopped.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Shortly.</i>) Aw, don't be a fool.</p>
<p>(<i>Silence again. Quinn moves uneasily in his chair.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—What's on yer mind? Can't ye sit still?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—What should be on me mind?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I haven't lived with ye five and twenty years without
knowin' when ye've done somethin' ye're ashamed of.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—I've done nothin' I'm ashamed of.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Out with it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>After a slight hesitation.</i>) I walked down town to-night to see
the sights. Bill Martin went with me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Content to get her knowledge by Quinn's roundabout way of
telling it.</i>) Were the streets crowded?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Nothin' like they are up here.... D'ye know they have the State
Constabulary on the Avenue now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—I saw them this mornin'. Big hulkin' brutes they are,
chargin' into groups of women and children like as if they were
offenders agin the law.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—It's makin' the men see red.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—If the men are wise, they'll give them a wide berth, and not
start any ructions, or they'll get smashed heads for their pains.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Well, we can smash heads, too.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—And be put in the lock-up for it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Am I in the lock-up?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Whose head have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> <i>you</i> smashed John?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—To-night while we stood at the corner of Fourth and Marion, a
trolley came along with passengers in it, a woman and two men.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—John, ye didn't—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—The dirty scab who ran the car must have come from New York with
that last bunch of strike breakers.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—What did ye do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Defiantly.</i>) I picked up a brick, and let it fly through the
window. Maybe the company can starve us, but we'll teach the public it's
a damned unsafe thing to ride in the cars, while we're bein' starved.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Did ye do any hurt?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Well, I guess I damaged the woman's arm, if ye want to know. She
let out a yell ye could hear a mile, and flopped over. Then I took to me
heels.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>In a rage.</i>) Ye fool, have ye quite quit yer senses? Ye'll
be caught and locked up fer this.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Glad that he has gotten the story out.</i>) Not much.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Yer temper'll do fer ye, one of these days, me man. I
suppose that's what ye call seem' red? Seein' red! Gawd'll get ye by the
scruff of the neck when yer not lookin', and shake the ugly devil of a
temper out of ye. Ye'll face the consequence for it, sooner or later.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Aw, stop yer blather, and get me a cup of tea.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Tea! I'm tempted to put a pink<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> bean in it, and make ye
croak before the gallows gets ye, ye ruffian.</p>
<p>(<i>There is a knock at the front door. Mrs. Quinn exits R. and returns
with the Martins.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Hello Martin, what's up now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—Have ye seen the papers?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—No.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—It's in them already.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—What's in them?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—Listen, (<i>reads</i>) "Just at dusk this evening a mob of strikers
attacked a west bound car at Fourth and Marion Streets, and did
considerable damage to the car and occupants. The only woman passenger
was seriously injured in the right hand and arm, and was taken to the
Lester Hospital, where"—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Interrupting.</i>) Do they know who done it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—(<i>Reads.</i>) "No clue to the man has been found, but Chief of
Police"—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Shortly.</i>) Aw, cut it, Martin. They'll never find the man who
did it, unless your tongue wags. I'd like to break the arms of ev'ry one
who runs or rides in the cars till we win our fight.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—(<i>Somberly.</i>) Maybe the only way <i>is</i> to do a little damage,
break a few bones, show them we've got some spunk ... and yet it is
written if a man smite thee on the right cheek—</p>
<p>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—I thought the plan this time was to keep the confidence of
the people?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—We've tried that for seven weeks, and it's taken us nowheres.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—We've tried most everything I guess, but prayer. Maybe we'd
do more if we prayed over it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) Do ye say pray over it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—(<i>Diffidently.</i>) If we could all get together on it. I know it's
hard to talk religion to the boys, they all think different about it. It
takes some courage for a man to come out and say he's a Christian, but
I'm willing to do it. Think—if all the men and women and children would
pray for a settlement, it would have some weight with the Lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—(<i>Eagerly.</i>) He'd give an answer, I know. I heard a
minister say once, if we'd ask for <i>anything</i> with all our hearts and
souls the Lord wouldn't deny us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—What a mix-up we'd have then!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Well, I've not much use for prayers when there's a fight on—but
if ye—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Ye know, I had a mad sort of a dream tother night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Impatiently.</i>) Whist woman, with yer dreams!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Undeterred.</i>) I dreamed I was after havin' a nice easy
talk with Gawd, and he sez to me, "Mary Ann Quinn, I want ye to sit up
here with me in Heaven on me right hand side. For sure," sez he,
pleasant like, "<i>you've</i> never pestered me with requests since ye've
been a woman grown." "Well Gawd," sez I, "I've been that mortal busy
tendin' to the bodily comforts of me man John, and me daughter Molly,
that I've had me mind fair occupied, and I apologize for not comin' to
ye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> oftener." "Oh, Mary Ann," sez he, "can't ye see I like it? I'm fair
sick of havin' to stand sponsor for all the mistakes of me numberless
Christian children. They go along in their headstrong ways doin' the
things they <i>want</i> to do, right or wrong, and when they run amuck, they
up and come to <i>me</i> with prayers and supplications, cryin' and pleadin'
for help, when a slight use of their own wits and decency and common
sense would have kept them from difficulties in the first place."</p>
<p>"Oh, Gawd," begins I, but he smiles at me and sez he, "get up wid ye on
me right hand side, and keep that grin on yer face Mary Ann Quinn, while
I tend to me regular customers."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Shocked.</i>) I can't help ye bein' heathenish in yer views, but
I'll not have ye outspoken voicin' them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—(<i>Puzzled.</i>) It was a very odd dream to have.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—It certainly was.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—The meanin' of it's mortal clear, I'm thinkin'. But, that's
not gettin' the tea, is it?</p>
<p>(<i>Exit to kitchen L.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Martin, I don't know about yer prayers, but fer meself I'm in
this fight till the finish, and man nor devil'll make me yield an inch.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—Then I'm with you, Quinn. (<i>To Mrs. Martin, who goes to him
protestingly.</i>) No, Bessie, its no use. We can <i>pray</i> after we've won.</p>
<p>(<i>Molly enters door R. She is in hat and coat, and carries a muff.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>—Molly!</p>
<p>(<i>Molly does not answer, but stands and looks</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> <i>at Quinn.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Martin</span>—(<i>Taking Mrs Martin by the arm, and going to door R.</i>) I guess
you'd rather be alone with her.</p>
<p>(<i>Exeunt Martins door R.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Father.</p>
<p>(<i>Quinn rises and looks at her, but does not speak.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) Two years ago when you married that damned fiddler, I
told ye never to come here again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Sternly.</i>) I meant it then, and I mean it now. Get out!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Won't you let me speak to you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—There's nothin' you can say to me, I gave you yer choice of us
long ago, and ye stuck to him. Stick to him now, I don't want ye.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Enters door L with tea things.</i>) Molly, my dear little
Molly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Mother!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Ignoring Quinn.</i>) Sit down now, and I'll give ye a dish of
tea.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—She'll not sit down in this house.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Easily, tho her heart is beating rapidly.</i>) Will she not?
Here, take off yer hat and coat, and drink this while it's hot. I'll
bring another cup for yer father.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit to kitchen. Molly remains standing, and faces her father. She
makes no attempt to remove her wraps.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Won't you let me come back to you and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> mother? Won't you forgive
me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Slowly.</i>) Why are ye so eager to be back?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I need you and mother, now I'm alone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Alone? He's left ye, has he?</p>
<p>(<i>Molly unable to answer for her tears, nods head.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—The things I told you about him were true then? He was no fit man
to marry a decent girl!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Father, father, don't say that!</p>
<p>(<i>Mrs. Quinn enters.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Working himself into a rage.</i>) The fine gentleman has left
Molly. All his grand love makin' to end in two years, tho Gawd knows I
didn't expect it to last that long. (<i>To Molly.</i>) Why hadn't ye sense
enough not to be gulled by him? Didn't I tell ye, he was a rogue and a
scoundrel? Chucked aside for another woman, I suppose ye were! Left ye,
left ye—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Ye blunderin' idiot, last Tuesday the boy died.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Helplessly.</i>) Died? I—I thought—(<i>to Molly.</i>) Sit down—drink
the tea.... Is—is there an egg for her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—There's no eggs here. The hens went on strike with the
trolley men. Let me help you off with yer coat, Molly. What have ye done
to yer arm? What's that bandage on yer arm for?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—You remember, I told you in my last letter, mother—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Sourly.</i>) So ye've been writin', hev ye?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—D'ye think a mother will let her only child slip easily out
of her heart and life?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—(<i>Pleading.</i>) Mother, father!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>With poor grace.</i>) Aw, well, let it go.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—(<i>Sitting at back of table, Quinn and Mrs. Quinn at either
side.</i>) When I settled up everything, after—after his death, I planned
to go back to my old job. I went to the office and saw Mr. Bowen, and he
said the place was still open for me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Admiringly.</i>) I don't wonder he's glad to get ye back.
There ain't many stenographers clever as you are Molly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Be quiet mother, and let the girl talk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I knew if I could work, and bring good wages into the house,
father could afford to stay out on strike until the men had won.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Molly!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I <i>did</i> plan for that father, I did plan for that, and now—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Well, go on, go on.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—To-night at the Lester Hospital when they fixed my arm, the
doctor said I couldn't use it before a month.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—What happened to it? How did ye hurt it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I did the wrong thing, and I guess I deserve what I got, but I
was dog tired and the walk here is endless. I took a car at the ferry,
everything went all right till we got to Fourth and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> Marion Streets—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Startled.</i>) Fourth and Marion!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—There was a crowd of strikers there, and one of them threw a
brick into the car, and it struck my arm at the elbow. Crushed it pretty
badly, I guess.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—My Gawd!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—(<i>Misunderstanding his emotion.</i>) I'm not going to live on you,
father. I know you and mother are hard enough pushed as it is.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—What's ours is yours now. Ye'll stay here with us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—(<i>Dazed.</i>) I wonder can I get a job at Newton's? They needed men
last week.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Father, he ... left insurance, and we can use that until you
start again, or until I'm able to go back to the office.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—The strike's a mistake, I'm thinkin'. I'll go to the barn
to-morrow and take me car out, if the boys kill me for it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—(<i>Quickly, and unconsciously imitating Mrs. Martin's
imitation of the walking delegate.</i>) Ye'll do no such thing. The
strike's on till it's settled. Yer fightin' fer a principle, and ye'll
not give in till ye win. This is not a war for us only, but for our
children. <i>They'll</i> be saved a fight fer their rights if we conquer now.
We'll go at the company in the way that that walking delegate says. (<i>As
she becomes conscious she is quoting the quoted delegate.</i>) The walking
delegate? Well, he's alright, we'll do things his way, and we'll win.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—Of course we'll win. Public sympathy is with the men this time.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—Well, it won't be fer long, if the men see red, and go about
bustin' up perfectly good arms of innocent bystanders. Me mind's made
up, violence must stop.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—And mine's made up too, the strike must be won.</p>
<p>(<i>Quinn goes to wail rack, and takes down hat and coat.</i>)</p>
<p>What are ye doin' with yer coat?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Quinn</span>—I'll go and have a talk with the boys. I've some power with them.
Violence must stop. I'll try to make them listen to reason, and if they
won't, I guess I'm good for a job at Newton's.</p>
<p>(<i>As he leaves room he is heard muttering.</i>) Violence must stop!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I never knew father so set against a fight. What's he want to
work in a coal yard for?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—Never fear, he won't work in a coal yard. Ye see Molly he's
awful mad at the man who smashed yer arm. It makes him wild to think a
fellow is free to go about harmin' innocent people, just because he
thinks he sees red.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Molly</span>—I hope he never finds the man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Quinn</span>—D'ye know, I think he has a hunch who did it. Oh, he won't
hurt him! Father's been gettin' close to some hard home facts this day,
and a good walk in the fresh night air will help him to digest them.</p>
<p>(<i>As curtain descends.</i>) I'm so sorry about yer poor arm. Tell me, does
it hurt you much?—etc.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>CURTAIN</i></span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">MURDERING SELINA</span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="big"><span class="smcap">Cast</span></span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">King</span>, <i>Editor of the Gazette</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bart</span>, <i>A Reporter</i>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">An Officer.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Boy.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Gentleman.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Selina.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miss Brown.</span></td></tr></table>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Time</span>—<i>The Present.</i></p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Place</span>—<i>A Little Café in the Park, Managed by Miss Brown.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">Murdering Selina</span></p>
<p><i>Scene—Interior of a frame restaurant in the park. At the left side,
running almost the entire width of the room, is the counter at which one
may buy soft-drinks, peanuts, pop-corn, newspapers, etc. A talking
machine and telephone are on counter. Against the wall, at centre back,
is a screen, behind it is a door to another room. At the right side,
back, a table and couple of chairs. Small table and two chairs near
front of stage, left. When curtain rises, Miss Brown and The Boy are
discovered. Miss Brown is a red haired, good-hearted, sharp tongued old
maid of uncertain years; positive in her opinions, quick in bodily
action—giving one the impression of great nervous energy. The Boy is
the typical roguish, rather fresh, "newsy" of fifteen, or thereabout.</i></p>
<p><i>A fox trot is being played on the victrola, and The Boy is teaching the
steps to Miss Brown, whom he is pulling around with spirited
good-nature.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>In time with music.</i>) <i>Slow, slow, slow, slow, now fast, fast,
fast, fast, fast, fastie, fastie, fast.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Oh, wait until I get me breath.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—You gotta dance without it, see?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—How can I dance with me wind all gone? Let go of me while I
rest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Aw, come on, and be a sport. All the girls is doin' the fox trot.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Pathetically.</i>) My heavens, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> ain't no girl.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Yer learnin' it fine. I bet if ye had a couple lessons ye'd put it
all over that bunch at the pavilion.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Trying to stop.</i>) Let go of me, will you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—<i>Slow, slow, slow</i>,—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Ye young snipe, can't ye see I'm ready to drop?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Aw, stop coddlin' yerself! Yer good for a mile yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Pulling herself free.</i>) You run and get the papers. It's
almost dark, and there ain't one here yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>At victrola.</i>) Well, I'm goin,' ain't I?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Out of breath.</i>) Quit foolin' with that machine, and go
get yer papers.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—I won't be three minutes, and then we can try it again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—I think I've had enough. It ain't no game for an old hen.</p>
<p>(<i>Boy puts on sweater and cap.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Is it four slow, and four fast?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—No, that ain't right. Four slow, eight fast, then two turnin'
steps. See? (<i>Shows steps, then exits.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Meditatively.</i>) If I get goin' I suppose I'll be dotty,
like the rest. This dance craze is certainly worse than hittin' up the
booze. They say that Lizzie Smith, the hussy, roped that poor misguided
Jones boy into marrying her with her dancing, though heaven knows I
never saw nothin' in her grace or beauty. Oh, for ten years of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
misspent youth. If I'd only learned the blamed thing before I lost my
figure! (<i>Puts record on machine, and dances hesitatingly, counting
"one, two, three, four," etc. Bart, much dishevelled rushes into room.
He is well dressed, but mussy looking, as if he had slept on a park
bench for a night or two, and had not had recent acquaintance with hair
or clothes brush. He bumps against the peanuts on the edge of the
counter, and scatters them all over the floor.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Can't ye see where yer goin'?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Fumbling in pocket.</i>) Here. Sorry.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—A dollar! Ye never can tell a millionaire by looks these
days.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Sinking into chair.</i>) Am I doomed to blight everything I touch?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Are ye sick, mister? Can I help ye?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Get out, get out, let me alone, and stop that machine!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Commiseratingly.</i>) Poor fellow! (<i>Stops machine.</i>) He's
got the Willies.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Don't talk to me, for Heaven's sake; I can't stand it!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Sarcastically.</i>) Oh, I was just communin' with me other
nuts.</p>
<p>(<i>She stoops to gather up the peanuts, but catches a glimpse of Bart's
side face, and sits on floor, looking at him intently.</i>)</p>
<p>To think of that profile bein' wasted on a man! It's terrible the way
good looks is chucked around where they ain't needed!</p>
<p>(<i>Boy enters with an armful of newspapers. King</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> <i>is close behind him.
Bart rushes to King, knocking against the Boy as he does so, and sending
the papers flying.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Ye big stiff, what ye doin'?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—King, I thought you'd never come!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Look at me papers, will ye?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Impatiently.</i>) Oh, shut up!</p>
<p>(<i>Boy, grumbling and muttering to himself, helps Miss Brown pick up the
peanuts and papers.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>With great displeasure.</i>) This is a nice out of the way place to
bring a man to. What's wrong with you anyway? Drunk?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Grimly.</i>) I haven't been sober for three days.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Don't boast about it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Boast, good heavens!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—What do you think a newspaper is, a day nursery? Here's Billy
Sunday in town, the war, the Mexican situation, everything at boiling
point; the Gazette short of men, and you off on a three days' jag! I've
a good mind to fire you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Miserably.</i>) I'm up against it, King, don't rub it in. I don't
know which way to turn.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>To Miss Brown, as they seat themselves behind counter.</i>) I wish
those ginks would clear out, so we could trot again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—They'll beat it to a free lunch counter soon.</p>
<p>(<i>She gets the Boy to hold a skein of worsted, which she unwinds and
rolls into a ball. During the conversation between Bart and King, Miss
Brown and the Boy now and then glance at them with a show of irritation,
Miss Brown because they</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> <i>are not buying any of her wares, and also
because she cannot hear enough of their talk to make sense of it.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—What have you done, a second story job?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>With much humility, and some pride.</i>) I've broken a girl's
heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Utterly disgusted.</i>) Oh, hell!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I tell you, I've broken a girl's heart, and ruined her life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Rubbish! Sober up, and go back to work.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I can't. She has threatened to do something desperate. There will
be a scandal.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Forget it!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I wish I could, but suppose she shoots herself, or takes poison?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—That sounds pleasant.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I didn't know she loved me, I protest I didn't.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Cut out the heroics.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—She's mad about me, and I didn't understand till too late.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Firmly.</i>) Too late! You scuttle back to town, get a license, and
marry her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I came to the city to earn money to marry a girl back home, and
I'll marry her, or no one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Winning a girl's love, and throwing her over, is cheap sport. I'm
disappointed in you, Bart. I didn't know you were that kind of a chap.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I'm not that kind. It's all a horrible mistake. She misunderstood
my—my attentions. I was just nice and friendly to her, and she, well
she—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—That's right, put the blame on her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Hotly.</i>) Well, I'm not going to blame myself. If women see fit
to fall in love with me, it's not my fault.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—You conceited pup!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I don't care. I've suffered enough these last three days, and I've
just about gone to pieces. It's not my fault, I don't care what you say,
it's not my fault.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Every cad says it's not his fault.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) What in the name of common sense are they
gassin' about?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Aw, they're holdin' hands, I guess.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>To King.</i>) I asked you here for advice, not abuse.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Shortly.</i>) You have my advice, marry her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—And I tell you I won't. I don't love her, and I do love Lucy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Lucy. The girl up home, I suppose?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Yes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—What will she think of this mess?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—She need never know that Selina existed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Starting.</i>) Selina!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—That's her name.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Selina, what a coincidence!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I thought you'd understand, and help me out.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Tell me, I'll try to understand.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) My Gawd, ain't they never goin'?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Talk about yer cheap skates!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>To King.</i>) I've been kind of lonely down here in the city, and
she was a regular oasis in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> the desert. I took her to a good many first
nights, and the opera pretty nearly every week, and she—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Gently ironical.</i>) Gazette passes, I presume?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—You don't think I could pay for them out of my salary, do you?
I've not had a cent from father since I left home.... She always gets
herself up well, and wears good-looking clothes, and I felt proud to
take her around. Besides, she's older than I am, and I thought I was
safe.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—I had no idea you were so irresistible.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) It's time to give them the acid test. (<i>She
turns a sign advertising Coca Cola, with its face to the wall. On the
back is printed in large letters, "This ain't no free rest room. Buy
something, or get out." King turns around, glances at the sign casually,
then gives his attention to Bart.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Hully gee! The big boob can't read!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—What's a poor girl to do now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>To King.</i>) Why, I never even kissed her, although once or twice,
I think she wanted me to.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—With such a platonic background, how did you manage to break her
heart?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—That's the queer part. Tuesday night after Tosca, we had a little
supper at her apartments. We were talking about friendship, and I told
her what a bully little pal she had been, and how I'd miss our good
times when I went home and married Lucy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—You mentioned Lucy?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Why shouldn't I?</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span><span class="smcap">King</span>—<i>I</i> should call it a strategic error.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I suppose it was a mistake.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—It's rank idiocy, my boy, to tell one woman you love another.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—It seemed to break her all up. She declared I'd led her to believe
I was going to marry <i>her</i>, that she had given her heart unreservedly to
me—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) She had "given her heart unreservedly to you?" Did
she use those words?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I'm not apt to forget them, especially as she repeated everything
half a dozen times. She made me feel as if I'd deserted her at the
altar. I tell you, I never went through such an awful hour in my life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Didn't you explain to her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Explain to a weeping woman? She was lost in an ocean of tears, I'd
have had to use a foghorn. I got so rattled I began to cry myself. Then
she flung herself in my arms, and said if I jilted her (jilted her, mind
you!) she'd blow her brains out. And she'll do it, too, she'll do it.
That's what I'm afraid of. If Selina kills herself for love of me, it's
all up with Lucy; she'll never marry me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Does anyone know of this scene?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Her maid came in while she was sobbing in my arms. I tried to
shake her off, but she clung like a leech.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Her maid, that's bad.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Moodily.</i>) I know it's bad.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Are you sure you never made her think you loved her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I protest on my word of honor, I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> even hinted at love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>To Miss Brown, as he yawns over newspaper.</i>) There's nothin'
worth readin' except this blame suicide.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Looking up from her newspaper.</i>) It certainly gets my goat
the way some fool women go dippy over men.</p>
<p>(<i>King glances at Miss Brown suddenly, as she raises her voice during
her last remark, then turns to Bart.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Have you seen the papers?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I've been afraid to look at them for fear of reading something
about her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Turning to counter.</i>) Bring me a Gazette, boy. (<i>Hands coin.</i>)
No change. Go along.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Impudently.</i>) The woods is full of 'em.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Looking at paper.</i>) I guess you're in for it, Bart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>In a stifled voice.</i>) What—what is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—This suicide. I never connected it with you. The body of an
unknown woman was found at the Riverton dam this afternoon. She was
about thirty-eight years old, five feet five, had light brown hair—does
that fit your Selina?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I don't think Selina was more than five feet three or four, and
she can't be thirty. She told me herself she was only twenty-six. (<i>Puts
out a shaking hand for the paper.</i>) Let me see.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Holding paper.</i>) The newspaper description may not be accurate
Bart, but all her underclothing was marked with initials. That is the
clue the police are working on.</p>
<p>(<i>Hands paper to Bart, pointing out the place.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Reading her newspaper.</i>) Poor soft soul, it's certainly
awful.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Clutching his head.</i>) Great heavens! She left a note. "I did it
for love, <i>he</i> will understand. S. W." She's dead, she's dead, there's
blood on my hands.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Pull yourself together. Don't make a scene here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I've killed her just as surely as if I'd thrown her into the water
myself. I'm a murderer, that's what I am. I've murdered Selina!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Sit down, and listen to me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Murderer, Selina's murderer!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Sit down! We must work this out together quietly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Be quiet with a murder on my conscience.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy, folding up her newspaper.</i>) Well I ain't seen the
man, I'd kill myself for.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>To Bart.</i>) I'm going to tell you something no one in all the
world knows except me, and a poor heart broken old woman in New
Hampshire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Don't talk to me. I'm a murderer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Whispering.</i>) So am I!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Jumping.</i>) What!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—That's what I want to tell you about.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—You too!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Eight years ago, I trifled with a woman, just as you have done. I
was more to blame than you, for I made her think I loved her. She loved
<i>me</i>, there was no doubt about that, but I thought she was after my
money, and that of course, ended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> everything. I quarrelled with her, and
went about my business. She left the city. A month later I received a
letter from her mother. She told me her daughter had died in her arms of
a broken heart. Her last words were, "I have given my heart unreservedly
to him." My name was the last she ever breathed. And the poor old lady
was left alone and penniless. I would have gone to her at once, but she
could not bear the shock of seeing her daughter's murderer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—What a coincidence!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—It does not end there, for she was called Selina!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Amazed.</i>) Selina!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—A tragic coincidence.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Both of us murderers!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Murderers, yes, we have murdered our Selinas.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) Merciful heavens, they've killed someone!
(<i>Takes down telephone, and calls.</i>) Main 674 ... 674 I said. Say
operator, you get me Main 674 will ye? Oh, stop polishing yer nails, you
ain't no society dame.... Is this 674? Send a cop quick to Miss Brown's
restaurant. Someone's been murdered, and the men who done it ... here in
my restaurant. I ain't stringin' ye ... right away. I don't like bein'
alone with them. (<i>Hangs receiver up, and watches Bart and King
closely.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>To King.</i>) What did you do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—What could I do? From the day of her death until now, I've kept
her mother. It's the only reparation I can make, and I have done it for
eight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> years.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Tragically.</i>) My Selina was alone in the world. With her death I
have blotted out an entire family.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Humbly.</i>) We possibly can't help being handsome and fascinating,
Bart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—But we must learn to be careful with women, and not lead them on.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) Now you sit tight, and if they come over here,
brain them with a soda water bottle.... (<i>Looks out of doorway.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Dancing with excitement and pleasure.</i>) Ain't this some picnic!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>To Bart.</i>) I have never dared look at a woman since then.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I can't imagine Lucy killing herself for me. She will never love
me as Selina did.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Sighing.</i>) Selina.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Mine?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Mine.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter a plain clothes Officer, and a Policeman, breathlessly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>To Miss Brown.</i>) Now, which one of them done it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—It's that young one, I think. You could spot his ugly mug
for a crook anywhere.</p>
<p>(<i>Officer goes up to King, and turns him around suddenly, while the
Policeman does the same to Bart.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—What do you want?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>Slipping handcuffs on.</i>) Come along peaceful.</p>
<p>(<i>Policeman handcuffs Bart.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Stop that! What are you doing?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Keepin' you safe. The lady just phoned to headquarters what
you've been doin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Angrily, to Miss Brown.</i>) I gave you a dollar, what more do you
want?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Hush money won't go, boss.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Take these things off, or I'll brain you.</p>
<p>(<i>The Boy dances around the stage in glee, getting into everyone's
way.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Keep the nippers on 'em, Casey, or they'll muss up the shop!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—I'm running no risks with murderers.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart and King</span>—Murderers! (<i>they collapse. King drops his cane, and Miss
Brown makes a dive for it, and shakes it at him.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—I heard ye, ye bloodthirsty thug.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>To Officer.</i>) Now see here, don't be a fool. I'm George King,
editor of the Gazette—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Can it, boss, everything you say will be used against you at
the trial.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Despairingly.</i>) It only needed this!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Is Lieut. Mason in the guard house?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Maybe he is, maybe he ain't. I ain't sayin'.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Take us to him at once. He'll identify us. You can't run men in
like this, on a pink headed old maid's say so. Where's your warrant?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—The warrant's comin'. We hadn't time to wait for it, while you
skinned out.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Take us to Lieut. Mason at once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Well, come along, and none of your funny tricks, or I'll wing
you.</p>
<p>(<i>Takes out revolver.</i>) You too, Miss Brown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> the chief'll want your
testimony.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) Watch the Café, while I'm gone, and don't you
give nobody nothin'.</p>
<p>(<i>Exeunt Bart, King, Miss Brown, Officer and Policeman. Boy puts record
on machine, and before starting it, says, "Gee, life's great!" then
dances to the music, stopping when Selina and Gentleman, in evening
attire, appear at the door.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—It's too bad the tire's punctured.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Graciously.</i>) I really don't mind it in the least.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Really?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Really.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—A car's such a rotten nuisance. Always something wrong with
it; much rather ride in a hack.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Coquettishly.</i>) Even a hack would have no terrors with you,
though I confess, I prefer the machine.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—We'll be late for dinner, too. It will take Thompson half an
hour to put on that tire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Then let's sit here, look at the moon, and talk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—About the moon?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Oh dear no,—about you and me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—About you, you're such a ripping sort. Maybe I can get
something to drink while we wait.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Do, I'm chilled to the bone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Boy, let us have two cups of fresh hot coffee.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—You gotta wait.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Wait, why?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—The lady's out. I can't make cawfee. I'm just mindin' the shop.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—You get us something to drink.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Aw, this is a temperance joint.</p>
<p>(<i>Grins impudently at the Gentleman, who stares at him with great
disdain for an instant, then turns to Selina.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Botheration! I suppose we might as well stay out of the cold
until Thompson is ready.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—There's a draft along there. Don't sit too near the wall.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I'll fix the draft with this screen. (<i>Places screen across
one corner of room.</i>) That will keep that fresh kid from seeing us, too.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Why don't you want the boy to see? What are you going to do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Well, for one thing, kiss you, if I get the chance.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Severely.</i>) I think you are forgetting yourself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>Confusedly.</i>) I beg your pardon. My tongue slipped. I
wanted to ask you to, to—I'll take a look at Thompson.</p>
<p>(<i>Exit Gentleman. Boy makes a smacking noise with his lips.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Um, honey!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Behind screen, exultingly.</i>) It'll be easy enough to work him.
He's ready to drop into my hand now, like a ripe plum. Lord, what fools
men are!</p>
<p>(<i>Boy puts on record, and starts machine. Selina listens a moment, then
picks up her skirt, and does a</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> <i>few steps behind screen. Bart and King
enter.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Stop that infernal racket.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Big stiff. (<i>Does not stop machine.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Where's my cane?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—You gotta wait till Miss Brown comes back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—You get my cane.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Picking cane up from counter, and hiding it behind him.</i>) I don't
know where she put it. You gotta wait, see?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>To Bart.</i>) I'd like to jump that cop. Nice fix for us if Mason
hadn't been there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—(<i>Stopping machine.</i>) Say, didn't you do it? What did they let you
come back for?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Of course we didn't do it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>To King.</i>) And yet we <i>are</i> guilty of murder.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Luckily for us, the law won't see it that way.... I'll double my
allowance to her mother.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—And I'll put flowers every week on my Selina's grave.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—We are bound together by ties of death. We must be brave, and face
the world serenely.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Clasping King's hand.</i>) And no one must know.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Peeping around screen.</i>) George King and Bart! My gosh, what a
pickle! (<i>She hurriedly enters the little room back of the screen. Bart
and King just catch a glimpse of her as she disappears.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Sh!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Great heavens, an apparition!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span><span class="smcap">King</span>—She has come to haunt me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I shall throw myself at her ghostly feet, and crave pardon.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart and King</span>—(<i>With outstretched hands.</i>) Selina!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Tragically.</i>) That was the spirit of the Selina whom my coldness
killed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—It was the spirit of my Selina, who drowned herself for love of
me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—How terrible is the vengeance of heaven! It makes the one woman
haunt us both.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I shall go mad now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Bart, I feel my reason tottering.</p>
<p>(<i>They sit at little table, heads on hands, backs to the entrance door.
Gentleman enters, and goes behind screen.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—It will take about ten minutes more—hello, where have you
gone?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Peeping from room off stage.</i>) Sh!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Why, what's the mystery?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Did you see two men in there, as you came in?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Didn't notice, but I'll take a look.</p>
<p>(<i>Bart and King hide behind counter when Gentleman appears.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Not a soul but the boy. (<i>Returns to Selina, who comes into
the room, but remains behind screen. Bart and King stay behind counter,
but listen intently to Selina and Gentleman.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Something queer about this.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>To Gentleman.</i>) Flatterer!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I remember the first time I saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> you at the opera. By the
way, who's that chap you always go with?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Lightly.</i>) Oh, that!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Her voice!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—He interests me. Seems very sweet on you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Think so?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I have eyes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—He's just a boy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—It's these young cubs who always run off with the prizes. Are
you in love with him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—I do not think you have any right to question me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I beg your pardon for seeming impertinent. I merely ask, so I
may know where I stand.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Do you think <i>he</i> is the type of man I could love? Frankly, he
bores me to death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Great fish!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I don't think you bore him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Sadly.</i>) Poor boy!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—He's gone on you, isn't he?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Pleadingly.</i>) Please don't think me a heartless coquette. He's
alone here in the city. I was just nice and friendly to him, and the
poor fellow's fallen desperately in love with me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>Gallantly.</i>) I don't blame him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—That's quite sweet of you, but it's made me very unhappy. He was
engaged to a girl up the state, and I'm afraid she will blame me. Women
are so cruel in their judgments.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>Soothingly.</i>) Well if you don't love him—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—How can I? Yet I'm worried sick, for he has threatened to kill
himself if I don't marry him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Springing up hysterically.</i>) Liar!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>With deep conviction.</i>) She's no ghost.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>To Gentleman.</i>) Do you wonder I am unhappy?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—You certainly couldn't throw yourself away on a young puppy
like him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Clenching fists.</i>) Oh!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Sit down!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—He hasn't been at his office since I refused him. I'm afraid
he's done something desperate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Don't worry about him. What you want is a man with position
and wealth. Now, if <i>I</i> should say I loved you, and wanted to marry you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Quietly.</i>) But you have not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>With an embarrassed laugh.</i>) I'm trying to hard enough.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Shall I say, "this is so sudden?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Heavens, no, not that stuff! Say "yes."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—But I'm not used to this sort of proposal.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I don't mind being romantic, I'll get down on my knees, if
you like.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Don't don't, the floor's dirty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Well then, say "yes."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—But you've known me scarcely two weeks.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—And loved you the first time I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> saw you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—I wish I'd known it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Heartily.</i>) So do I.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I'm telling you now, isn't that enough?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—I've no family, no money save a small allowance from my mother's
estate. I'm really a very poor girl.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Don't worry about that, I've money enough for two.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—The little income I get barely keeps me, but I've managed to
live on it for eight years.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>Grimly.</i>) You've got your last check from me, mother dear!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Poor little woman, what a struggle you must have had to keep
up appearances. (<i>Horn blows outside.</i>) Come, there's Thompson. We can
announce our engagement at the dinner.</p>
<p>(<i>The Gentleman helps Selina into her wraps, while Bart and King again
hide behind counter. Miss Brown enters. She is in a fine rage.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—The way law's handed out in this town's a crime, a howlin'
crime!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—What's eatin' ye now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Lieut. Mason let them murderers off. He's a fool, that's
what he is, a soft pie-eyed fool!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Aw, forget it!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Don't tell me to forget it, or I'll slap your face for ye,
ye rat.</p>
<p>(<i>Chases Boy behind counter, and bumps into King.</i>) Holy cats!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—(<i>In a whisper of suppressed rage.</i>)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> Woman, give me my cane.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Goes to door and shrieks.</i>) Police, police!</p>
<p>(<i>Selina and Gentleman are about to leave, but Selina pulls Gentleman
behind screen again.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>To Gentleman.</i>) Come back!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—What's she going to do now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Boy</span>—Better leave her be, she's got her dander up.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter Officer.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—What do ye want now, Miss Brown?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—Call 'em innocent, if you like, but I got a hunch they're
crooks, and I want you to clear them out of my café, see?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—You got me in wrong once. I ain't huntin' trouble.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>To Gentleman, who urges her forward.</i>) No, no, stay here till
they go.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—I came back for my cane, and I'm not going to leave without it.</p>
<p>(<i>Horn blows again.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Hang it all, we'll be dreadfully late.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>In an ecstasy of fear.</i>) No, no, stay here till they go.
(<i>Leans against screen, which shakes, and almost falls over.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—What's back of that screen? I saw it move!</p>
<p>(<i>Goes toward screen. Bart and King make a bolt for the door, and
Officer stops them.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>Discovering Selina and Gentleman.</i>) Pipe these two dolls,
will ye?</p>
<p>(<i>Selina draws scarf over face, and hurries toward</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> <i>door.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>Detaining her.</i>) Not so fast please, I want to see you first.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—We're all right officer, just waiting here out of the cold,
while my car was being—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>With easy familiarity to Selina.</i>) Hello kid, where did you
hook the gown?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Officer!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Easy, boy, easy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Let me pass, you have no right to detain me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—This is an outrage. I'll report you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>To Selina.</i>) Some style to you now, kid. Who you workin'?
Must have money to rig you out like that!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Let me pass, I tell you, let me pass!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—You're a wonder, Lena. Your own mother wouldn't know you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—My gosh!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—How dare you insult this lady?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Say, what are you buttin' in for? Who are you anyway? What's it
matter to you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Everything. I'll not let you bulldoze a lady who's going to
be my wife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—She's not going to be your wife while I'm alive, Clarence.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—What do you mean?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—I don't believe in divorce, and—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>In suppressed rage.</i>) Keep quiet, will you!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—(<i>Coolly.</i>) And she happens to be <i>my</i> wife.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>(<i>General consternation.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—Good heavens!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—Great fish!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—I'll be darned!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—They're all dotty. The whole fool ranch is dotty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>Tensely, to Selina.</i>) Is this true, tell me, is this true?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—(<i>Shrugging shoulders.</i>) Oh, what's the use!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—Sure, it ain't any use, Lena, but if you're havin' a good time,
go to it. Gawd knows I don't want any more of ye.</p>
<p>(<i>Horn blows again.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—I must be going.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Selina</span>—Would you mind dropping me at my apartments?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>—(<i>Coldly.</i>) Certainly not, if you wish.</p>
<p>(<i>Exeunt Selina and Gentleman. Bart, King and Officer bow to her with
mock courtesy as she passes them.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Officer</span>—She's got her nerve, all right. Knew I picked a pippin' when I
married her. She'll cook up some story to hoodwink him before they get
to her apartments. (<i>Stands in doorway, meditatively.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—Died in her mother's arms! And I've been keeping the fictitious
old lady eight years.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—I'll put no flowers on her grave, the siren.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">King</span>—She worked us all very nicely, didn't she?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bart</span>—(<i>Suddenly.</i>) King, our hands are bloodless. We have not murdered
Selina!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>(<i>King and Bart fall into one another's arms, overcome with emotion.
Miss Brown watches them a moment in supreme disgust.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brown</span>—(<i>To Boy.</i>) Put on a fox trot, Jimmie, maybe it'll bring
them to, the poor prunes!</p>
<p>(<i>Boy puts on record.</i>)</p>
<p class="center"><span class="big">(<i>CURTAIN</i>)</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="huge">NOTES</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Hand of the Prophet</span> was written February, 1913. It was first
performed March 8, 1913, at Artsman's Hall, Rose Valley, Pennsylvania.</p>
<p>The three songs used are from "<span class="smcap">A Lover in Damascus</span>," words by Charles
Hanson Towne, music by Amy Woodforde-Finden. In the order of their
singing in the play, they are "Far Across the Desert Sands," "How Many a
Lonely Caravan," and "If in the Great Bazaars." The songs are published
by Boosey & Co.</p>
<p>The first dance is from Saint Saens' "Samson and Delilah." Melody is
included in this volume. The second dance is the "Dance Arabe" from
Tchaikovski's Casse-Noisette (Nut-cracker) Suite. The melody of the
third dance is included in this volume.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Children of Granada</span> was written March, 1914. It was first performed May
2, 1914, at Artsman's Hall, Rose Valley, Pennsylvania.</p>
<p>Music of Muezzin's Call to Prayer included in this volume.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Turtle Dove</span> was written February, 1915. It was first performed April
6, 1915, at the <span class="smcap">Masque of Primitive Peoples</span>, Horticultural Hall,
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.</p>
<p>Music of the Chinese Song is included in this volume.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">This Youth—Gentlemen!</span> was written February, 1909. It was published in
<span class="smcap">The Butterfly Quarterly</span>, Winter 1908-1909.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Striker</span> was written January, 1915. It was first performed March 5,
1915, at Artsman's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> Hall, Rose Valley, Pennsylvania.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Murdering Selina</span> was written January, 1915. It was first performed March
5, 1915, at Artsman's Hall, Rose Valley, Pennsylvania.</p>
<p> </p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/m_128.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p class="center"><span class="huge">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</span></p>
<p class="center">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
<pre>
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