path: root/74498-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74498 ***






FESTIVAL PLAYS




UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME


PICTURE PLAYS

With cover inlay and illustrations. $1.25 net.

HOLIDAY PLAYS

Cover inlay and frontispiece in color by John Rae. $1.25 net.

CRANFORD: A PLAY

A comedy in three acts from Mrs. Gaskell’s novel. Cover design and
frontispiece by Edwin Wallick. 12mo, $1.25 net.

THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: A PLAY

Cover inlay and frontispiece in colors by John Rae. $1.25 net.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: A PLAY

Based on Jane Austen’s novel. Frontispiece and cover inlay. $1.25 net.




[Illustration:

    “The World, a perfect sphere, all rainbow bright,
    Is yours to make, with every breath you draw.”]




                              FESTIVAL PLAYS

                      _ONE-ACT PIECES FOR NEW YEAR’S
                    DAY, ST. VALENTINE’S DAY, EASTER,
                        ALL HALLOWE’EN, CHRISTMAS
                         AND A CHILD’S BIRTHDAY._

                                    BY
                           MARGUERITE MERINGTON

                              [Illustration]

                                 NEW YORK
                            DUFFIELD & COMPANY
                                   1913

                             COPYRIGHT, 1913
                          BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY




TO MY SISTER MARY E. MERINGTON




CONTENTS


                                                                      PAGE

    Father Time and His Children
      (New Year’s Day)                                                   7

    Tertulla’s Garden, or The Miracle of Good St. Valentine
      (Valentine’s Day)                                                 25

    The Seven Sleepers of Ephesos
      (Easter)                                                          79

    Princess Moss Rose
      (For Every Child’s Birthday)                                     125

    The Testing of Sir Gawayne
      (Hallowe’en)                                                     209

    A Christmas Party
      (Christmas)                                                      263

A fee is charged for the stage use of any of these plays. Applications
should be made to Duffield & Company, 36 West 37th Street, New York.




ILLUSTRATIONS


    “The world, a perfect sphere, all rainbow bright,
    Is yours to make, with every breath you draw” (See page 294)

                                                             Frontispiece

    “What! A pretty girl who does not recognize her own
      face!”                                              facing page  62

    “What, ho! ’Tis morning! See, the sun hath risen”     facing page 118

    “Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your bride”   facing page 258




FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN

[Illustration]




FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN


CHARACTERS

FATHER TIME and the TWELVE MONTHS OF THE YEAR.

COSTUMES, etc.: TIME, an emblematic figure; MONTHS dressed according
to characters: JANUARY wears a mask at back of head, resembling face;
FEBRUARY is the shortest child, and walks with a skipping leap at every
fourth step; MARCH’S costume suggests the lion and the lamb, etc. Scenery
may be elaborate, or simple, or dispensed with entirely. A sun-dial or a
clump of rocks may be placed at back of stage, where TIME will take his
position while the Months recite. Snow may be simulated by small pieces
of white paper being gently dropped from above, or by a little salt
being placed in the folds of a character’s coat, so that it drops off
lightly, or by a frosty little dab of soap-suds on the shoulder melting
almost immediately. Taking a commanding position TIME will summon each
Month in turn by name, through a megaphone, then when the Month appears
will retire to the back of stage till the recitation shall have been
concluded. The Months will appear when summoned, in turn, disappearing
on the opposite side of stage, if possible behind a piece of scenery,
reappearing at back of stage, there to remain quietly till the ensemble
at close. Appropriate music for exits and entrances may be used. The
songs and dances may be arranged to popular tunes. Colored lights if
skilfully handled may be used.

MUSIC: It ends with heavy chords marking time. Curtain rises disclosing
FATHER TIME. He blows blast through megaphone, then speaks.

TIME.

    What ho, hilly ho! Before you you see
    A being as ancient as old can be.
    Methuselah’s decades a thousandfold
    Would not have made him one thousandth as old.
    The ages of all the world and his wife
    Are not a speck on a patch on my life;
    Nay, all your ancestors strung in a line
    Would not reach back with their birthdays to mine;
    And though the agedest ancient you know
    The longer I live the older I grow!
    Oh, no one was ever so old as I,
    Nor ever will be, so ’twere vain to try!
    For, lo! I am TIME, your old FATHER TIME,
    The reason of wrinkles, the rhythm of rhyme;
    First aboriginal native of space;
    Earliest settler all over the place;
    The oldest inhabitant here, or there;
    The latest arrival everywhere.
    By the wink of my eye your clocks are set,
    And the corn you cut when my scythe I whet.
    ’Tis the wag of my beard marks music’s sound,
    Makes the sun come up, and the world go round.
    And you tell by my smile, or shake of head
    When to turn out, or to turn into bed!
    Now Time is money, so, therefore, you see
    Whoever wants gold must reckon with me;
    Though if I should look with a frown your way
    The gold of your hair might be changed to grey!
    Or, if your gold is a counterfeit crime,
    You may cheat the world, but you can’t cheat Time!
    The wealth I bring is a golden chance
    For making the best of your circumstance;
    But if too freely you spend what I give
    I shorten your days, as sure as you live!
    So you, the neighbours, the world and his wife
    Must come to me for the time of your life!
    For I can make you dance to ...

                         [_Dances and sings._]

    Quick time and slack time; nick o’ time and back time!
    Back time and fast time; lack of time and past time!
    Last time and least time; fasting time and feast time!
    Little time and long time; tittle-tattle wrong time!
    Sleep time, and train time; keeping time to gain time!
    Best time to find time; lest you be behind time!
    Saint time and sinner time; fainting-for-dinner time!
    Night-time and daytime; right-you-are-time; playtime!
    Make time and meantime; take-your-time between time!
    Some time and no time; coming time and go time!
    Zig time and zag time; jigging time and rag-time!
    Prime time and high time; Time-to-say-good-by time!

                         [_Stops; wipes brow; speaks._]

    Not so bad for an ancient eh?... And that is the way I shall
    dance to the END OF TIME! [_Goes to centre of stage._] And now
    let me present to you my twelve beautiful children! [_Begins to
    call through megaphone._] What, ho! [_Just then an unseen clock
    strikes twelve. TIME counts the strokes. As the last dies away
    he summons JANUARY. Instantly there is a great to-do behind the
    scenes: bells, horns, whistles, people cheering, etc. JANUARY
    appears._]

JANUARY.

    When the old year dies at midnight’s chime
      Behold, I appear!
    The eldest and youngest child of Time,
      The Happy New Year!

    Two faces I wear, like the Roman god
      At the temple door,
    Surveying the path by pilgrims trod,
      And the path before.

    Backward looking, and looking ahead,
      Like that god in Rome;
    We read the roads we have yet to tread
      By the roads we’ve come.

    Then, Janus-wise, with our double view,
      Let us bear in mind
    To bring no faults to the year that’s new
      From the years behind;

    Only good counsels by which we live,
      Good thoughts and good cheer,
    For that is the way to get and give
      A Happy New Year!

                         [_Exit January._]

                         [_Enter FEBRUARY._]

FEBRUARY.

    Behold the shortest month in all the year—
      And yet I hold my head as high
      As January or July,
    Since Washington by birth belongs to me,
    And Lincoln. Greater glory could there be?
    I’m sure you’ll all applaud and cry Hear, hear!

                         [_Pauses for this to be done._]

    Also I proudly claim for mine
    That favourite Saint Valentine,
    Upon whose day birds pair and build their nest,
    Lads rhyme about the maidens they love best,
    And maids dream of the lads they hold most dear.

    And then, each fourth time I come round
    I have to give a mighty bound,
    Like this! As if at leap-frog did I play.
    Thus to my twenty-eight an extra day
    I add, to keep the almanac in gear!

                         [_Exit FEBRUARY._]

MARCH.

                         [_Enters roaring._]

    Wrapped in clouds and a flurry of snow,
    Like a roaring lion March comes in;
    All a boisterous, blustering blow!
    I rattle windows, and doors I slam;
    And people’s hats, to their great chagrin,
    I snatch and send on a whirling spin;
    Then, hiding in chimneys, laugh Ho, ho!
    Oh, what a practical joker I am!

    Or, rocking the tree-tops to and fro,
    I climb aloft like a harlequin
    To play my pranks on the world below.
    Stout timbers creak when ice-flows jam
    From sea to harbour where ships come in;
    And flood and freshet their foam-wreaths throw,
    And mill-wheels turn with furious din
    As the mill-stream rushes over the dam!

    “O wintry March, will it never go!”
    You cry, “and suffer sweet spring to win,
    With fields for ploughing and seed to sow?”
    Then how I laugh, for ’tis all a sham,
    My blustering roar and lion’s skin ...
    My practical joke, to take you in!
    For, see! I’m the mildest month you know,
    As I tiptoe off like a gentle lamb!

                         [_Exit MARCH._]

                         [_Enter APRIL._]

APRIL.

    Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, dear, Oh, dear, Oh, dear!
    I am the saddest and the gladdest month of all the year!
    I cry and cry and cry until my tears make little pools
    Because upon my way I meet so many April Fools!
    And then I laugh and laugh until my sunshine dries my tears,
    Because though foolish April Fools those April Fools are dears!
    For some are foolish flowers that get out of bed too soon,
    Mistaking April’s laughter for the call of May or June;
    And some are foolish children who get out of bed too late,
    And go to school with tousled hair and most unseemly gait;
    And some are foolish grown-ups. But, in strictest confidence,
    I think.... Don’t you? ’tis time that these should have some
      common-sense!
    Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha! Oh, dear, Oh, dear, Oh, dear!
    I am the saddest and the gladdest month of all the year!

                         [_Exit APRIL._]

                         [_Enter MAY._]

MAY.

    Oh, I’m the merry month of May,
    The time of white and tender green
    That nature makes a gala day!

    Of May-crowned queens I am the queen,
    The happy, singing heart of spring—
    A maiden turning seventeen.

    The fairies weave a magic ring
    About my footsteps where I roam:
    I have not learned that nettles sting.

    Beneath the blue of Heaven’s dome,
    Brushed by a feather from Time’s wing,
    The world at large I call my home.

    Where flowers bloom and linnets sing
    Within the heart, is aye my home,
    The shrine of May, the soul of spring!

                         [_Exit MAY._]

                         [_Enter JUNE._]

JUNE.

    See! The Heavens beam more brightly.
      Days are strewn
    Flowerful, like gardens sightly ...
      I am June!

    Hark! The bird-note sounds more tender.
      Sweetest rune
    To my praises poets render ...
      I am June!

    Speed the parting, hail the comer,
      Sun, stars, moon!
    I’m the rose, sweetheart of summer ...
      I am June!

                         [_Exit JUNE._]

                         [_JULY and AUGUST enter together._]

AUGUST.

    AUGUST is my name, and I ...

JULY.

                         [_Interrupts._]

    I speak first. I am JULY.

                         [_Together._]

    Hand in hand we come.

AUGUST.

                          Because!

JULY.

    That’s no reason. Nature’s laws!

AUGUST.

    Nature’s laws? Same thing! Because!

                         [_Together._]

    We together on our ways
    Scatter summer holidays.

JULY.

    All the joys that we unfold
    Children would not change for gold.

AUGUST.

    Nor would teachers, I am told!

JULY.

    Boating ’mid the lily pads,
    Swimming; fishing for the lads ...

AUGUST.

    With a worm upon a hook!

JULY.

    Or with interesting book ...

AUGUST.

                         [_Interrupts._]

    Dozing in some shady nook!

JULY.

    Picking berries by the road;
    Riding on a haycart’s load!

                         [_Together._]

    Oh, the pleasures that we bring ...

AUGUST.

    Sitting idly in a swing,
    Just not doing anything!

                         [_Together._]

    But, alas! our song must close.
    Summer passes with the rose!

                         [_AUGUST starts to go. JULY restrains AUGUST._]

JULY.

    Wait until July has passed!

AUGUST.

                         [_Yawns._]

    Nothing done from first to last!
    Nothing wears one out so fast!

                         [_Exeunt JULY and AUGUST._]

SEPTEMBER.

    It is easy to remember the enchanting month September,
    With its mellow days, and nights starbright and clear,
    When Jack Frost starts to make merry then red leaf and scarlet berry
    And the purpling grape proclaim that autumn’s here!

    Maples flame upon the grey side of the mountains, and the wayside
    Golden-rod, gold-hearted asters now adorn:
    Like old friends returned from places far away we greet their faces
    As we hasten to the husking of the corn.
    There are dry leaves for the raking, there are bonfires for the making;
    There are ruddy apples heaped upon the grass;
    And in spells of stormy weather, in some attic, barn, together,
    Oh, how gaily do we make the moments pass!

    Aye, in sport and happy pastime we were quite forgetting class-time
    As it swiftly steals upon us unawares,
    With its sums that must be slated, and its dates that won’t stay dated,
    And the rocky road to learning’s many snares!

    Then, as misers hoard their treasure, so we count our days of pleasure,
    Days that slip away as thread reels off a spool,
    Till resounding lamentation marks the close of the vacation,
    As we gather up our books and start for school!

                         [_Exit SEPTEMBER._]

                         [_Enter OCTOBER._]

OCTOBER.

    Who says my month is dismal, sober?
    Now that’s a libel on October!

    The winds come tumbling from the hills,
      Like boys at play;
    Like happy girls the mountain rills
      Dance on their way.

    The trees wear coats of golden brown;
      Each breeze that stirs
    From chestnut boughs is bringing down
      The ripened burrs.

    Then, when abroad the spirits flit,
      Unheard, unseen,
    A night of revels they permit ...
      All Hallowe’en.

    For apples in a tub you duck,
      Or seek to know
    The spell to bring you love and luck
      From candle’s glow;

    Or in a shadowed looking-glass
      Your future lot
    You may behold behind you pass,
      Or you may not!

    A merry month indeed, not sober.
    I ought to know, for I’m October!

                         [_Exit OCTOBER._]

                         [_Enter NOVEMBER._]

NOVEMBER.

    November’s the month for whole-hearted thanksgiving;
    For thanks for your being, and thanks for your living;
    For plenty to-day, and enough for to-morrow;
    For freedom from sorrow, or hope beyond sorrow.
    And if for naught else are you thankful, remember:
    BE THANKFUL YOU STILL ARE ALIVE IN NOVEMBER!

                         [_Exit NOVEMBER._]

                         [_Enter DECEMBER._]

DECEMBER.

    There are snowdrifts by the wayside, there is writing on the pane,
    Where Jack Frost has left a message about winter come again;

    There’s that tingling in the blood and there are sleigh-bells in the
      air,
    There is coasting down the hills, and slipping, sliding, ev’rywhere!
    There’s a stocking by the chimney hung on Christmas eve because
    There’s a chance you’ll have a visit from our old friend Santa Claus.
    There’s a bright star in the Heavens that proclaimed a wondrous birth
    When the Chosen Child of Children brought His Christmas day to earth;

    There are mistletoe and holly in the woods to deck the hall,
                                And
    Here’s the Christmas spirit wishing Merry Christmas to you all!

                         [_Exit DECEMBER._]

TIME.

                         [_Blows a blast._]

    What, ho! Stand forth, all ye, my children!

                         [_The MONTHS appear._]

TIME.

    These are my children, my children dear.

MONTHS.

    Yes, we are the Twelve Months of the Year!

TIME.

    Every year, for a bite and sup,
    I gobble them up!

MONTHS.

                      Gobbles us up!

TIME.

    And every year, despite my pain,
    They bob up again!

MONTHS.

                      Bob up again!

TIME.

    Throughout the world, in every clime;
    And so ’twill be, to the END OF TIME!

MONTHS.

    Throughout the world, in every clime;
    And so ’twill be, to the END OF TIME!

                         [_Dance and sing._]

    With our play days, jolly days; heydays and holidays!
    May days and mirth days; gala days and birthdays!
    Olden days; new days; golden days and blue days!
    Work days and school-days; shirk days, April Fool days!
    Sundays and sleek days; wonder days and week-days!
    Sundays and Mondays; rather underdone days!
    Mondays and Tuesdays; please-to-pay-your-dues days!
    Tuesdays and Wednesdays; women’s days and men’s days!
    Wednesdays and Thursdays; kittens’ days and curs’ days!
    Thursdays and Fridays; up-and-do-or-die days!
    Fridays and Saturdays; mad-as-a-hatter days!

[_They form a ring about TIME and dance round him, repeating the song,
while TIME in the centre repeats his dance and song, “Quick time and
slack time,” etc._]

CURTAIN.

[Illustration]




TERTULLA’S GARDEN

or

THE MIRACLE OF GOOD ST. VALENTINE

(founded on a legend)

_Valentine’s Day_




TERTULLA’S GARDEN

or

THE MIRACLE OF GOOD ST. VALENTINE


CHARACTERS

    _VALENTINUS, a priest of the Christian Church in Rome._
    _ASTERIUS, chief officer of the Prefect Calpurnius._
    _PERTINAX, overseer of farm and gardens at the country villa of
      ASTERIUS._
    _NERVA, a boy, servant in the town house of ASTERIUS._
    _TERTULLA and QUARTILLA, unmarried daughters of ASTERIUS._
    _MARONIS, a woman servant in attendance on TERTULLA and QUARTILLA._
    _Other servants._

TIME: _The fourteenth of February [the sixteenth day before the Kalends
of March] during the reign of the Roman Emperor Claudius II [A. D.
268-270]._

SCENE: _A room in the town house of ASTERIUS. The scene shows a room
furnished in Roman style, but plainly, with table, chair, bench and
stool. High up on one wall is an aperture with wooden shutters, now open
to admit light and air. Through this window may be seen the branches of
a tree, bare of leaf, yet with buds swelling, and a glimpse of sky. In
the same wall is a door which gives exit to the lane at the back of the
house. On the other side is a curtained opening to another room.... On
the table are writing materials of the kind in use at the time. Seated
so as to catch the light VALENTINUS is busily engaged in writing. Enter
NERVA bearing a jar of steaming pottage, with a spoon, also a platter
with a square, flat cake of bread._

NERVA.

Behold, your supper, Valentinus! [_He sets down his burden._] Supper, I
say. And though but prisoner’s fare, yet, through some bewitchment you
exercise over the entire household, myself excepted, seasoned with the
cook’s best art! [_He sniffs the pottage._] M-m-m!

QUARTILLA.

[_Head between the curtains._] Bo!... Valentinus! Tilla says Bopeep!

VALENTINUS.

Ah, my little Quartilla! One sixtieth portion of an hour and I shall have
done!... [_Still engrossed with work._]

QUARTILLA.

Sh! [_She enters on tiptoe, and one sees that she is an attractive
child._]

NERVA.

What have you there, Quartilla? [_He tries to help himself from a basket
of dainties she carries._] What, cheese cakes, almond cakes, and little
tarts! M-m-m!

QUARTILLA.

Nerva! Audacious one, forbear! These are for Valentinus!

NERVA.

Wasted on him, when all day he does nothing but spoil good parchment with
the juice of the cuttle-fish, only pausing to mend his split reed, or
erase a mark with pumice-stone!

QUARTILLA.

He writes words of comfort to his afflicted people whom our godlike
Emperor thinks fit to persecute!

NERVA.

[_Devouring a tart._] Persecute! By the immortal gods I like such
persecution!

QUARTILLA.

Peace, brazen one! [_She goes to the curtains._] Enter, Pertinax, and
gaze on our distinguished guest!

NERVA.

Distinguished guest! A jail-bird whom the jail is too full to hold,
and so committed by the Prefect Calpurnius to the care of my master,
Asterius, and in his absence to mine! Distinguished guest, forsooth!

PERTINAX.

[_Enters, a manly young fellow of pleasing personality. His arms are full
of flowering branches, also he carries a basket of flowers._] So this is
Quartilla’s wizard!

NERVA.

Quartilla’s wizard, everybody’s wizard. Well may you say so! How else but
by wizardry do you account for Asterius sending him dainties from his own
table ... Asterius who seals up the very salt-cellar in his thrift!

QUARTILLA.

[_Laughs._] Hush! That is my secret! I steal them for him! Though I
present them to him with my father’s greetings, else, so honest is he, he
would make me put them back! [_The OTHERS exclaim._] Yet, do you know,
sometimes I fancy my father sees the theft, but turns his head aside!

NERVA.

Magic! [_Going._] By the gods and goddesses, why am not I a Christian and
a prisoner!

VALENTINUS.

[_Laying work aside._] These lengthening days tempt me to prolong work!
Now, Tilla; is it a doll to be mended, or a table in weights and measures
to be learned, or.... [_He pauses, seeing PERTINAX._]

QUARTILLA.

This is Pertinax, overseer at my father’s farm!

VALENTINUS.

Greetings to you, Pertinax!

PERTINAX.

And to you kindly, Valentinus. May the blessing of the gods be to you as
a plenteous year’s harvest! [_He sets down his burden._] Though I am told
that you Christians no longer believe in our ancient gods of Rome!

VALENTINUS.

But we believe in blessings, from whatever source!

PERTINAX.

That lies beyond my comprehension. But then, I am told, you work miracles!

QUARTILLA.

Indeed he does! He has mended my doll’s nose, and made me remember how
many quarts of water you can pour into an amphora!

NERVA.

[_Entering with an amphora of water while she speaks._] As if anyone
could not do as much!

QUARTILLA.

None other has ever done it, all the same!

NERVA.

[_Arms akimbo._] Come, then, wizard; prove yourself! dispose for us some
prodigy!

VALENTINUS.

What, Nerva, would you consider such?

NERVA.

Oh, that a hen should crow, or a black dog should suddenly bound through
the room, or a snake come down the pipe into the cistern, or that the
statue of Jupiter should laugh!

VALENTINUS.

None of which things can I bring to pass! Nor do I call them miracles!

[_NERVA laughs, sneering._]

PERTINAX.

How, sir, do you define a miracle?

QUARTILLA.

Instruct them, Valentinus! Give them proof!

VALENTINUS.

[_Rolling up his parchment, thoughtfully._] Hm! Well, then, will you,
Pertinax, and you, Nerva, walk a few paces from me toward the door?

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing with joy._] A proof! A demonstration!

VALENTINUS.

Not so! Merely a definition!... Toward the door!

NERVA.

[_Mocking, though complying._] Which, no doubt, will fly open of its own
accord at our approach!

[_The TWO comply, walking toward the door._]

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about._] Now you’ll see; you’ll see!

[_With his rolled parchment VALENTINUS gives each youth a sharp blow
across the shoulders. With an indignant cry they turn about._]

PERTINAX.

Now, by Hercules...!

NERVA.

May Castor and Pollux rend me if I see...!

VALENTINUS.

[_Mildly._] Did you feel that blow, Pertinax?

PERTINAX.

By Hercules, how should I not do so!

VALENTINUS.

Ah! And you, Nerva?

NERVA.

By Castor and Pollux, am I a stone!

VALENTINUS.

Ah! Well, it would have been a miracle if you had not felt it!

[_The TWO look rather discomfited, then PERTINAX laughs, seeing the
humour of it, while NERVA goes, crest-fallen._]

QUARTILLA.

[_Recovering from delighted mirth._] Oh, that was lovely! But, come, now.
Pertinax has a secret to confide in you. Meanwhile eat your supper. It is
past the ninth hour, and all day you have worked fasting! Oh, not that
bread! My father’s greetings and will you partake of this! [_Substitutes
fine bread from her basket for that which NERVA has brought, whereon
NERVA at the curtains coughs._] Now, Pertinax! What, bashful? Then I’ll
tell! He writes poetry! Beautiful poetry!

PERTINAX.

[_Modestly, though flattered._] Oh, modest strophes that call for an
indulgent ear! Numbers whose measures course through my brain while I
superintend the pruning and grafting, the ploughing and planting! As for
instance, by your leave! [_Taking out a scroll he reads._]

LOVE CAPTIVE

    Love Captive bound the Muses fast
      With garlands fair!
    Love into prison then they cast,
      In Beauty’s care!
    When Venus fain would set him free
      Love ransomed will not go his way,
    Since, if a youth, ensnared he be,
      A slave forever Love will stay!

QUARTILLA.

[_Rapturously._] Is it not heavenly?

VALENTINUS.

Truly it has ever been a favourite of mine since in my schoolboy days I
conned my Anacreon! [_PERTINAX looks discomfited, QUARTILLA sympathetic,
while NERVA, looking in at the curtains, bursts into peals of laughter._]

NERVA.

Anacreon! By Momus, but that’s funny! Anacreon, indeed, my poet!

PERTINAX.

[_Seizing on NERVA._] Shameless one than whom none is more contemptible!
To perdition with you! May the gods give you your deserts! May you be
buffeted with fists, jerked with rods, pricked with goads, pinched with
red-hot tongs, roasted over a scorching fire, and thrown to wild beasts
to be devoured!

NERVA.

Help, help! Hercules, I invoke thy aid! Oh, I’m destroyed utterly!

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing for joy._] Thumbs up! Don’t spare him, Pertinax! Thumbs up!
[_She presses her thumbs upward in the manner of the spectators at a
gladiatorial contest when they wished the vanquished contestant to be
slain._]

VALENTINUS.

[_Interposing, rescues NERVA._] There, there! That is punishment enough
for youthful levity!

PERTINAX.

[_Sinks into a seat and wipes a heated brow._] Levity? No cork on water
was ever of character more light! Had I you under me at the farm ...
[_Threatens NERVA who runs off._] ... I’d change your tune!

NERVA.

[_As he goes, taunting._] Anacreon! Ha, ha! Anacreon!

PERTINAX.

Master, I confess to the theft of an older poet’s words, but the feeling
they clothe is all my own, generated here! [_Hand on breast._] Suffer me
to explain! But, first, Quartilla, leave us!

QUARTILLA.

[_Grumbling._] As usual! Whenever things become interesting it is,
“Quartilla, leave us!”

VALENTINUS.

How fares our sister Tertulla whom not since early morning have I seen?

QUARTILLA.

Not well!

PERTINAX.

[_Starting up, agitated._] What! Tertulla ... Asteria Tertia ... she is
ill?

QUARTILLA.

Oh, not ill! Tulla is sad. All day Tulla sits apart and sighs, “Eheu!
Woe is me!” And all because my father has not taken her as usual to the
country!

VALENTINUS.

Tertulla has fewer pleasures than those who can see!

QUARTILLA.

That is true! Wait! [_She has an inspiration._] I have a way to cheer
her! I’ll tell her Pertinax is here! [_About to go._]

PERTINAX.

[_Greatly agitated._] The gods forbid! Quartilla, if so you do, never
again will I pluck sweet pears for you and grapes and pomegranates when
you steal out to me in the orchard!

QUARTILLA.

[_Teasing._] See now how frightened he is! One would think my poor sister
to be accursed, the way he always runs from her! However as I love sweet
pears and grapes and pomegranates I promise I won’t tell!

PERTINAX.

The heavens reward you!

QUARTILLA.

[_Running off._] I’ll make her guess it for herself!

PERTINAX.

[_Sighs._] Eheu! Wretched I! Master ... [_He waxes confidential._] I have
a secret! I love!

VALENTINUS.

In the springtime of your life and of the year why not?

PERTINAX.

Why not, indeed! But.... There is a but!

VALENTINUS.

As always!

PERTINAX.

But never was a but so insurmountable as mine!

VALENTINUS.

Again, as always!

PERTINAX.

While occupying an enviable position as overseer of my master’s farm I
should be happier as a public slave working in the stone-quarries or the
mill! Worn to the heart with longing I am of mortals the most wretched!
I cannot sleep, I cannot eat! [_Absent-mindedly he helps himself to a
little cake from QUARTILLA’S basket and nibbles it with relish._] To
such a degree has love inflamed me that, but for my tears, I should be
consumed with fire! My wits wander like cows at pasture! No longer do
I remember when to sow the three months’ wheat, or how to set out a
rose-bed! A row of lilies or of leeks, it is all the same to me! [_Sighs
deeply._]

VALENTINUS.

Not so, judging by the fruits of your husbandry! [_Indicating the
flowers._]

PERTINAX.

Ah-h! These are different! These are sacred blooms ... my source of
inspiration! These come from Tertulla’s garden!

VALENTINUS.

[_Understanding the position._] Hm! Tertulla!

PERTINAX.

[_Corroborating._] Even so! Tertulla! I have looked with inclination on
the maid from the day when I, a by-standing youth, drew her from the
reach of the fateful flames of her mother’s funeral pile into which in
her grief she was about to cast herself ... an act of filial piety which,
combined with excessive weeping, cost her the sight of her lovely eyes!
When, rewarding me, Asterius purchased me, I rejoiced in the exchange of
masters, for the opportunity this would afford me constantly to behold
my divinity-on-earth! I have watched her grow like the sapling trees
under my care ... and with her growth and mine my love has kept apace!
The garden she calls her own have I made my especial care, tending it
not only by day, but also by night when none might guess my secret, till
the fame of Tertulla’s garden is a proverb! [_He pauses a second for
breath._] To me she is the breath of life! But.... Eheu! Woe’s me!

VALENTINUS.

You fear the opposition of Asterius?

PERTINAX.

That, doubtless, would be terrible, since, when roused, he blusters like
the Adriatic in a storm! However, the more violent the tempest, the
shorter-lived! With your all-powerful intercession, Valentinus, Asterius
might be reconciled! He might suffer me with my hoardings to buy my
freedom, and since, through the merits of the gods and of my ancestors,
my name is no less honourable than his own, and since no wooers besiege
his door for his blind daughter he might be brought to look with favour
on me as a son-in-law! Lies not the trouble there!

VALENTINUS.

Then where?

PERTINAX.

With Tertulla! With the maid herself!

VALENTINUS.

You mean she holds you in aversion!

PERTINAX.

Worse, worse! O by a thousand times worse! Myself as Pertinax she hardly
knows, hardly ever has thrown a word to, yet she loves me! More, she
worships me!... She thinks me an emissary from the immortal gods, if
not, indeed, myself a god!

VALENTINUS.

You offer riddles to one called Valentinus, not Œdipus!

PERTINAX.

Let me unravel it that you may extricate me from the sacrilegious maze in
which, all-unheeding, I, wretchedest of men, have lost myself!... Thus
did it begin!... But, hark! [_Voices are heard in the adjoining room._]
She comes! Tertulla!

[_In great perturbation he hastily opens the door and passes out._]

MARONIS.

[_In the adjoining room, parting the curtains._] Come, my
honeysuckle-sprig, and talk with the disposer of prodigies who always
comforts you!

[_Enter MARONIS and QUARTILLA leading TERTULLA, a young girl of great
beauty. Her hair hangs loose, she wears a chaplet and a white, flowing
robe; also her feet are bare, or sandaled. Her general aspect is of one
prepared to offer sacrifice. Her eyes are bandaged, and her countenance
and voice are sad._]

TERTULLA.

Salutations, Valentinus!

VALENTINUS.

And to you kindly, Tertulla! Whatever you wish I desire it may befall
you! [_TERTULLA sighs._] But wherefore thus deject of countenance?

QUARTILLA.

I know why!

TERTULLA.

Peace, Tilla! At your age how should one comprehend such matters?

QUARTILLA.

Does one have to be tall as a fig-tree to know that you are bursting with
longing for your garden? “Eheu! wretchedest of women I as many as ever
have been born! Woe’s me!” [_Mimicking her sister._]

MARONIS.

It is true. If it were not for the bandage that you, Valentinus, make
her wear she would weep so immoderately that she would be turned into a
river, like to Ilia, the mother of Romulus and Remus!

TERTULLA.

[_Explaining._] Always, ever since I was a child, in the days that cut
the month of February in twain my father has taken me with him to the
country, journeying thither to give directions for the spring work at his
farm. But this year, business detaining him in town, he has sent for his
overseer to come here to him, instead, and so ... Eheu!

VALENTINUS.

But the year is young. Barely have the heavens ceased to scatter snow on
the Albanian hills. As yet the relaxing earth suffers only the hardiest
of her green children to put their noses out of bed! Later you will all
go to your father’s villa, avoiding the scorching heat of dog-star days!

TERTULLA.

Ah, then it will not be the same! Then will it be too late.

VALENTINUS.

[_Puzzled._] Too late?

MARONIS.

[_Explaining._] If you were not a deserving but unfortunate Christian,
Valentinus, you would not have forgotten that in the days about the Ides
of February the young god Faunus, protector of those same green children
of the earth, returns from his winter quarters in Arcadia to Italy!

VALENTINUS.

[_Remembering._] Ah, true! Nevertheless.... [_Still puzzled._]

MARONIS.

[_Continuing._] And Tertulla is wonted to celebrate the feast of the
Faunalia at the villa, offering sacrifice in her garden to the two-horned
god!

TERTULLA.

It is indeed so!

[_PERTINAX opens the door softly a crack and peeps in, seen only by
VALENTINUS._]

VALENTINUS.

I begin to understand! Well, since Tertulla cannot go to the country
perhaps the country will come to Tertulla!

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about gleefully._] A miracle! A prodigy! I said Valentinus
would work one and set things right!

VALENTINUS.

My child, I promise nothing! But Tertulla must remember that true
sacrifices can be made anywhere, in country or in town!

MARONIS.

[_To TERTULLA._] Aha, girl! Have I not worn out my tongue telling you as
much all day?

TERTULLA.

But will the god hear, missing me from my accustomed place?

VALENTINUS.

No honest petition ever goes unheeded anywhere!

MARONIS.

[_Nodding approval._] Another statement of my own, and therefore full of
wisdom!

TERTULLA.

[_To VALENTINUS._] Oh, how you comfort me! And yet ... there is something
further!

QUARTILLA.

[_Excited._] Aha! A secret!

TERTULLA.

But not for your ears, O little pitcher of two handles! Go from us awhile!

QUARTILLA.

[_Pouting._] As usual when things grow interesting: “Quartilla, leave
us!” But this time Valentinus will have to use magic to make me budge!

VALENTINUS.

Alas! No sorcerer am I! Yet, perhaps.... Hark!

QUARTILLA.

What do you hear?

VALENTINUS.

Surely not the first swallow, returning on the wings of the bird-wind,
and seeking where to build a nest! Up, Tilla! Let us see! [_Mounting the
bench he draws her up, then lifts her to the window._]

QUARTILLA.

Oh, the wee darling, flitting from plane to cypress, cypress back to
plane! And, see! There goes a man with a ring-dove in a cage! Come,
Maronis! We’ll go buy it of him! [_Assisted by VALENTINUS she scrambles
down and runs out into the lane._]

MARONIS.

Oh, what a runabout! I should have wings to my feet like Mercury to keep
up with her! [_She follows QUARTILLA out._]

TERTULLA.

Are we alone?... How wonderful you are! All your perhapses come to pass!

VALENTINUS.

Perhaps I only “perhaps” when I see events well on their advancing road!

TERTULLA.

But never do they turn down a side street! Never do they lose their way!
Always they come, straight as a bow-shot, to the door! Everyone else
said, “Afflicted of the gods for over-much grieving Tertulla will never
see again!” But you ... you said, “I promise nothing, yet perhaps....”
And, now, though you will not suffer me to test it, I feel that my eyes
have been born again; that I can see!

VALENTINUS.

Hush!

TERTULLA.

Oh, never fear; I will keep my vow, not, without your permission, to
reveal this to mortal ears! But I, I know that so it is! Accordingly when
you say, “Since Tertulla cannot go to the country perhaps the country
will come to Tertulla,” I feel sure that, in spite of inauspicious
beginnings, all will yet be well! And indeed, strangely, ever since I
set foot in the room my nostrils have been filled with the accustomed
fragrances from my garden; my spirit has received the message of spring
from her harbingers: the hardy rose, and early flowering almond; the
branches of a forth-putting cherry-tree on a sunny slope, and bloom of
narcissus and violet from the nurseries! But Faunus ... Faunus himself!
Will he, as is his wont, reveal himself in this place, to his handmaiden?
That, Valentinus, is my great secret! To no one heretofore have I
disclosed it! [_Again the door is cautiously opened, and PERTINAX peeps
in._] Every year in these days the god Faunus himself has accepted my
sacrifice in person, promising me protection for my flowers through the
coming season, a promise which has been miraculously redeemed! Work a
wonder for me, good Valentinus! Bring it to pass that the god will reveal
himself here, no less than in the country, to his handmaiden! [_PERTINAX
enters softly; sighs._] What! do I hear his footstep cross the threshold
with a sound as of the favouring breeze of spring? Faunus! Faunus! Do
you see him, Valentinus? You could not mistake him, with his youthful
countenance of great beauty, his two horns, and feet like those of a goat
that he may skip lightly over the hills!

VALENTINUS.

No such one is manifest to my sight, Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

And yet ... and yet.... O Faunus, if indeed it be you, speak! [_With
palms turned upward._]

PERTINAX.

[_Sighs._] The one who always comes to you at this season stands before
you now, Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

[_Ecstatically._] You hear! Valentinus! You hear?... Mark then, how great
the prodigy when the god comes, invisible to mortal eyes! O Faunus, had I
expected this I would have brought the cheese and almond cakes and little
tarts you love!

VALENTINUS.

These shall not be wanting! [_Places QUARTILLA’S basket in TERTULLA’S
hand._]

TERTULLA.

O happy omen! Deign to accept them, deity! [_PERTINAX helps himself from
the basket._] But you do not partake of them as wontedly. [_PERTINAX,
encouraged by a kindly smile from VALENTINUS, eats._] That is better!
Now Tertulla knows that you look on her with favour! And my garden,
Faunus; as heretofore you will grant me abundance of bloom interspersed
with grateful shade of strawberry tree and sycamore? And linden dear to
honey-gathering bee?

PERTINAX.

As heretofore, Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

And my friends, the flowers: crocus, and anemone, and the blossom
springing from the blood of Hyacinth—?

PERTINAX.

[_Always eating little cakes, which TERTULLA keeps offering him._] These,
and the twining ivy, source of poetic inspiration!

TERTULLA.

And viburnum, beloved of wayfarers, and sleep-bringing poppies?

PERTINAX.

And violet sweet-scented, and the short-lived lily.

TERTULLA.

And the amaranth the never-fading! You see he has taught me all their
habits and their stories, Valentinus!... And the rose and myrtle beloved
of Venus?

PERTINAX.

These, these above all!

TERTULLA.

[_Clasping hand ecstatically._] O wonderful!... And the box trees cut
into strange figures that I can pass my hands over: centurions with
eagles on their helmets?

PERTINAX.

And chariots in the circus!

TERTULLA.

And gladiators fighting?

PERTINAX.

And the sharp prows of sea-conquering galleys!

TERTULLA.

Is it not wonderful, Valentinus? But the god has ceased to eat! Ah,
Tertulla was forgetting! The libation! [_Claps hands._] Wine! Bring wine,
Nerva!

PERTINAX.

[_Alarmed._] It is not necessary, Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

Nothing shall be omitted that pleases Faunus! Ho, Nerva!

NERVA.

[_Appears between curtains._] Nerva here, Nerva there! Who calls Nerva
now?

TERTULLA.

Impudent and brazen one! Bring a goblet of honied wine! My father’s best!

NERVA.

Wine! Honied wine! What next! [_He goes._]

PERTINAX.

[_Who fled hastily at NERVA’S approach._] There are occasions when one
may dispense with such ceremonies!

TERTULLA.

Nothing shall be lacking from the feast, not only as propitiation for
favours hoped for, but in gratitude for benefits received! Bethink you
how wonderful the scroll you have spread out before me, painting the dark
chambers of my spirit with blossoms of many colours, and filling my life
with sweet savours, and with fancies no less sweet!

PERTINAX.

Asteria Tertia, I speak truly in saying that at too high a value do
you estimate the service I, all-joyful, have rendered you! Your own
imagination divinely gifted is the Apelles that has so pleasingly
depicted the wonders of nature, heightened, I grant you, by assiduous
cultivation, in a manner to adorn the chambers of your spirit!

TERTULLA.

My imagination is even as my garden that had lain a fallow waste fit only
for the hunting ground of hoarse-baying wolves had not Faunus taken it
under his divine protection!... And now this present miracle is indeed
reserved for me alone? You, keen-sighted Valentinus, you do not mock me
with vain words, saying that you do not discern the form of the god? Not
a single feature?

VALENTINUS.

Only as all created things are manifestations of the divine, Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

Marvelous! But wherefore tarries Nerva with the libation?

NERVA.

[_Entering._] Here’s your wine! I had to climb up to the wine-cellar
to find a proper vintage! All mixed with our choicest honey, too! [_As
PERTINAX has retreated at the sound of his voice he sees TERTULLA
standing in an attitude of adoration before empty space, and pauses to
stare at her._] Well, now, what project is the girl on now?

TERTULLA.

Enter, Nerva, fearlessly! Your dull eyes will perceive no unexpected
presence!

NERVA.

Truly a clever speech! [_He sets down the goblet, lingering to sniff at
it._] M-m-m! One would think certain persons were soldiers celebrating
the victory of the godlike Claudius over Goths and Allemanes! By Bacchus,
there are times when I could wish myself a persecuted Christian! [_He
goes. PERTINAX returns._]

TERTULLA.

[_Lifts the goblet from the table and holds it toward PERTINAX._] Take
it, Faunus, from thy handmaiden! [_PERTINAX obeys, drinking the wine._]

VALENTINUS.

[_Smiling._] Ahem! Not so were libations poured in my ante-Christian days!

TERTULLA.

[_Explaining._] Faunus likes it best that way rather than spilled upon
the ground!

VALENTINUS.

Not without reason! The vintage of Asterius is famed!

TERTULLA.

And now, O Deity, listen, while I reveal to you my great secret known
only to Valentinus here!

VALENTINUS.

[_Starting up, interposing._] Tertulla, forbear! Remember your vow!

TERTULLA.

[_Assenting._] Not without your permission to tell any living mortal!
But....

VALENTINUS.

Then, till I give you leave, forbear!

TERTULLA.

[_Impetuously._] But, Valentinus ... that will not be breaking faith!
Faunus is no mortal! Faunus is a god! Faunus, he has cured me! Valentinus
here has cured me! I can see! I can see!

[_Impetuously she tears the bandage from her eyes._]

PERTINAX.

[_Startled and terrified._] What!... Ah, woe is me, accursed of Jupiter
and sport of men! [_Throwing away the now emptied goblet he rushes out,
by the door._]

TERTULLA.

[_Hands up to her dazzled eyes._] Ah! The light!... [_VALENTINUS restores
the bandage, binding it gently on again._] Faunus!... What happened,
Valentinus?... Why did the god cry out? And has he gone? Eheu! Oh, woe!
Is he angry with poor Tertulla?

VALENTINUS.

Not angry; only taken by surprise!

TERTULLA.

But surely he does not begrudge me vision! Surely he believes that
Tertulla seeing will serve him no less faithfully than Tertulla blind!

MARONIS.

[_Enters running, at the door._] Tulla ... I heard Tulla who cried out!
Has aught befallen Tulla?

VALENTINUS.

It is nothing! Take her where she may rest awhile!

MARONIS.

Come, then, my honeysuckle-sprig! Come with Maronis!

QUARTILLA.

[_Entering, with a bird-cage._] We bought the dove! Oh, is my sister
ill? I’ll give it to her to cheer her! [_Follows after TERTULLA who is
being led off by MARONIS._]

TERTULLA.

[_Breaks from MARONIS, returns to VALENTINUS. Whispers._] Faunus ...
you’ll seek him, and plead with him for me?

VALENTINUS.

I promise nothing, but I’ll do my best!

TERTULLA.

[_Reassured._] Ah, then, I know it will come out right! [_She goes with
MARONIS and QUARTILLA._]

PERTINAX.

[_Returns._] O woe, woe! A plague may all the gods and goddesses send
upon you for a Thessalian sorcerer! O gladly with these two hands would I
choke you like a noxious nettle and cast you out to extreme and uttermost
perdition, so abominably by our arts in restoring sight to Tertulla have
you destroyed my happiness!

VALENTINUS.

Is that word worthy of an incarnate god?

PERTINAX.

You speak truly! Blameworthy am I alone! By my impious and sacrilegious
act I have upset my apple-waggon for all eternity! I am a wretch, one
born with all the gods my foes! [_He throws himself into a chair and
covers his face with his cloak._]

NERVA.

[_Entering._] Ho, Valentinus! Your company is much demanded in these
days it would seem! Maronis asks that you will give a soothing potion to
Tertulla who is restless as the wind that blows between the old moon and
the new!

VALENTINUS.

Willingly! [_He goes._]

NERVA.

[_Noticing the door which PERTINAX entering left ajar._] By Jupiter, for
a prison we keep open house! [_Taking a key from his girdle he locks the
door._] I will kill two flies with one flap, preventing thieves from
entering and jail-birds from taking flight! [_Turning to go he notices
PERTINAX._] What, is the lyre of Anacreon unstrung?

PERTINAX.

[_Angrily._] Silence, brazen one!

NERVA.

Oh, if my conversation is not desired I will even stop my mouth, so great
my zeal to please! [_He helps himself to little cakes. Suddenly the door
is tried from without._] Hear that! My precaution was none too soon!
[_There is a violent knocking on the door._] Knock away, whoever you may
be! My motto is the same as that of the great Fabius, “Hasten slowly!”

ASTERIUS.

[_Outside._] Open! Open! Open, I say!

PERTINAX.

[_Looks up._] It is Asterius! In this state bordering on distraction I
cannot meet him! [_Goes out._]

NERVA.

[_In a panic._] My master! [_Hastens to open the door._]

ASTERIUS.

Why in the daytime is the door locked?

NERVA.

Master, is it not a prison?

ASTERIUS.

Shameless one and well named Nerva on account of strength of tongue, have
I not allowed the freedom of the lane by day to my prisoner for exercise?
[_Threatens him with walking-stick._] A thousand lashes if ever again you
so disobey me!

NERVA.

[_Going._] Oh, very well! Only one might think you not unwilling that
your prisoner should extend his exercise, going to join his comrades who
hide in the Catacombs!

ASTERIUS.

[_Going for NERVA._] Now, get you from me to perdition everlasting!
[_NERVA runs off. ASTERIUS looks about._] Ho, Valentinus! Kindly
saluta.... What! The door was locked too late, it seems!... Now, may the
gods be praised, for it grieves me to detain so holy a man ... in which I
am more of a well-wisher to him than to myself!... [_VALENTINUS enters._]
Not so, however, it seems!... Ah, Valentinus! Save you! I was just about
to give the alarm, thinking you a fugitive!

VALENTINUS.

Kindly greetings, Asterius!... Oh, I could not so take advantage of the
most confiding of jailors! I was with Tertulla!

ASTERIUS.

[_With anxiety._] My child is not ill again? [_VALENTINUS signifies that
this is not the case._] The gods reward you for what you have done in
bringing her to health! My poor afflicted child! [_Sighs heavily._]

VALENTINUS.

Tertulla may yet find happiness! [_ASTERIUS again sighs, thinking
this impossible. VALENTINUS lifts a spray of blossoms to inhale its
fragrance._] Your overseer, Pertinax, is here; a youth of a hundred
accomplishments, it seems!

ASTERIUS.

A deserving fellow! I bought him, as you know, from gratitude, but never
have I repented me of the investment! Never does he give orders to hoe
the barley in wet weather or cheat me in the number of elm and poplar
saplings needed to prop up the vines!

VALENTINUS.

And the generous Asterius will no doubt soon reward him with his freedom!

ASTERIUS.

[_In pleased surprise._] Now how marvellous that you should perceive
a thought that as yet has hardly come to the surface of my own mind!
[_Again VALENTINUS makes a deprecating gesture._] I only wait some
fitting opportunity, some general rejoicing, to bring about this matter!

VALENTINUS.

What better than the recovery of the daughter he in a day gone by rescued
from the funeral flames?

ASTERIUS.

Felicitous omen! It shall be done immediately! [_He claps his hands._]
Ho, Pertinax!... Nerva, summon my household! [_PERTINAX enters, then
NERVA._]

VALENTINUS.

Softly! Let us go softly! [_TERTULLA enters with MARONIS followed by
QUARTILLA._] First, Tertulla has something to tell her father!

ASTERIUS.

[_Arms out to TERTULLA._] My child! My poor, afflicted child! Well, what
has she to tell me: that good Valentinus has made her strong and well
again?

TERTULLA.

Oh, more ... far more than that! Look, father....

VALENTINUS.

[_Interposing._] Wait! [_He loosens the bandage that TERTULLA still
wears._] Give me what you hold, Maronis! [_MARONIS hands him a mirror
with a handle, worn at her girdle._] Keep your eyes closed, Tulla! [_He
holds the mirror in front of her._] Now ... what see you? [_Great general
excitement._]

TERTULLA.

[_Looks with interest into mirror._] Oh ... why ... it is a painting of
one of my older sisters!

VALENTINUS.

What! A pretty girl who does not recognise her own face!

[Illustration: “What! A pretty girl who does not recognize her own
face!”]

[_There is general amusement which is however near to tears._]

TERTULLA.

Why, it never can be I! Why, last time I looked in a glass I saw....

VALENTINUS.

[_Putting QUARTILLA in front of TERTULLA._] This!

TERTULLA.

Oh, my little sister! Tilla is what Tulla was, when her sky grew dark!

QUARTILLA.

Dear Tulla!

[_They embrace tenderly._]

VALENTINUS.

Come, now! There is one other who can wait no longer! [_He turns TERTULLA
toward ASTERIUS who stands rigid and speechless with emotion._]

TERTULLA.

[_Doubtfully._] Oh ... that gentleman.... Surely he never can be Jupiter!
[_In awe-struck tone._]

ASTERIUS.

[_Holds out his arms to her._] Tulla ... my child!

TERTULLA.

[_Running to his embrace._] My father! O my father!

ASTERIUS.

She sees ... my daughter sees, thanks to the immortal gods and goddesses,
and this blessed worker of prodigies!

VALENTINUS.

Oh, merely a little skill, reinforced by healing onion juice and oil of
balsam!

ASTERIUS.

We must have a feast, a regular banquet to celebrate the glorious event!
Nerva, give orders that this shall be done instantly!

TERTULLA.

Oh, joyful day! A banquet! But first, Maronis, come, help me improve the
fashion of my hair! [_Looking at herself critically in the mirror._]

MARONIS.

[_Laughing happily._] Hear that now! Like Narcissus she will fall in love
with her own reflection! [_TERTULLA goes with MARONIS and QUARTILLA, all
talking happily._]

ASTERIUS.

[_To VALENTINUS._] Ask of me, demand what you will in repayment! It
is yours unchallenged! Meanwhile to each of my household his heart’s
desire! For you, you impudent rascal Nerva, remission of all the
floggings you already deserve, and will deserve during the coming
hebdomad. Also all the sweets you can stuff yourself with! As for you,
Pertinax, my faithful Pertinax, on the soonest day that the Prætor sits
in Court, you shall go before him to have the rod of liberty laid on
your head! More. In addition to your freedom will I bestow on you the
beginnings and makings of a farm of your own!

PERTINAX.

[_Overcome with joy._] Freedman and landed proprietor ... I ... Pertinax!
Oh, felicitous omen!

ASTERIUS.

In gratitude I declare myself follower of your faith, Valentinus! Myself
and my entire household!

VALENTINUS.

Again, softly! It may not be achieved so hastily!

ASTERIUS.

What! If any one of my family refuses to believe what I order him to
believe I’ll have him flogged till he does so believe! Oh, come what may
of it, you’ll find there’s no better Christian in Italy than I! Come,
now; to the banquet!

PERTINAX.

[_Advancing._] Master ... I mean, Asterius; as one freedman and landed
proprietor to another I ask your daughter Asteria Tertia in marriage!

ASTERIUS.

[_Nearly speechless with wrath._] What! Do my ears play me tricks? This
... this ... this scum asks ... Tertulla....

PERTINAX.

My blood, Asterius, is not ignoble! I was not bought from a dealer’s cage
in the market! I am no tippler at the hot liquor shops, or gossiper in
the ante-room, like certain ones! [_Looking at NERVA who is stifling his
mirth at the anger of ASTERIUS._] I have some scholarship, and, as you
should know, no little agricultural skill! And if the maid should not
look on me with disfavour....

ASTERIUS.

Away with you to extreme and uttermost perdition! May you be buffeted
with fists....

NERVA.

[_Enjoying this, echoes._] Buffeted with fists!

ASTERIUS.

... jerked with rods....

NERVA.

That’s it; jerked with rods!

ASTERIUS.

... pricked with goads!...

NERVA.

Pricked with goads ... sharp, sharp goads!

ASTERIUS.

... pinched with red-hot tongs....

NERVA.

... with sizzling, red-hot tongs....

ASTERIUS.

... roasted over scorching flames and thrown to wild beasts to be
devoured! [_He goes by the curtained way._]

NERVA.

... hungry wild beasts ... munch ... crunch! to be devoured! M-m-m! [_He
follows ASTERIUS._]

PERTINAX.

Oh, infamous! And all because of your abominable miracles! [_To
VALENTINUS. He goes out by the door._]

[_VALENTINUS sits quietly meditating in the waning light, and to him
comes QUARTILLA with her caged bird._]

QUARTILLA.

Everybody is unhappy and my dove has ceased to coo!

[_She sets the cage among the flowers, then, seating herself beside
VALENTINUS, slips her hand into his. Thus are they when ASTERIUS enters
quietly, and also seats himself. After a slight pause he speaks._]

ASTERIUS.

Will you baptise me a Christian to-night or to-morrow, Valentinus?

VALENTINUS.

Neither then nor now, Asterius, nor ever, while your heart remains hard
and your spirit proud!

ASTERIUS.

But, consider, now.... Had Tulla remained blind I could have borne with
the fellow’s impudence; might even have reconciled myself to the match!
But Tulla with her eyesight is another matter! My eldest daughter is
married to a man with a porch to his house as large as one belonging to
a public building! My second son-in-law has an estate at the seventh
milestone on the Appian Way! I myself do not need to go to the public
baths; I have added a fine equipment to the house with the most elaborate
devices for warm and cold water and hot air!

[_There is a slight pause._]

VALENTINUS.

Hark!

QUARTILLA.

What do you hear?

VALENTINUS.

A ring-dove, calling for its mate!... Quick, Tilla! Set your poor
prisoner free! [_Putting the cage into her hand and opening the door that
leads into the lane._]

QUARTILLA.

[_Almost crying._] What, my dove that I paid money for?... Let it go?

VALENTINUS.

Why, now, child, it is for this very thing you paid your money ... to
give it back its stolen happiness!... See, already it lifts its drooping
head ... ready to answer the call of life, and spring, and love!

QUARTILLA.

[_Opening the door of the cage as she goes out._] Farewell, my dove!...
Drop a feather from the wing of your happiness, and send a note from your
song of joy back to Quartilla!... Kindly fare you well!

ASTERIUS.

[_Rising, addresses VALENTINUS._] You think me in the wrong, but Tulla
herself is averse to the idea! [_VALENTINUS makes no reply._] I will
send her here that you yourself may question her!

TERTULLA.

[_Entering._] How wonderful to learn the world all over again!
Valentinus! I would speak with Valentinus!

QUARTILLA.

[_Enters with her empty cage._] It has flown away! [_She sighs._] I’m
glad someone is happy at last! Poor Pertinax is pacing up and down the
lane with a face three cubits long!

ASTERIUS.

[_With contempt._] Pertinax, forsooth! Come with me, Quartilla!
[_QUARTILLA goes with him._]

TERTULLA.

[_Also with contempt._] Pertinax, indeed! My father informed me of his
presumptuous proposal! Shall one who has been honoured by a god put on
the saffron-coloured wedding veil and slippers for a gardener? [_PERTINAX
appears at the door._]

VALENTINUS.

But such a gardener! [_Indicating the flowers._]

TERTULLA.

[_In surprise._] Oh! How came these here? Flowers that by the grace of
Faunus, blossom for Tertulla while the gardens of others are still a
barren waste!

VALENTINUS.

Brought by the human deputy of the divinity ... good Pertinax!

TERTULLA.

[_Thoughtfully._] Pertinax! [_She fondles the flowers._] My friends! Do
you know that at last I see you with the eyes of my body as of my spirit?
[_Kisses the flowers._]

[_PERTINAX sighs. TERTULLA hearing, starts up._]

Who sighed then? Surely not Faunus! Surely Faunus is no longer angry
with his handmaiden? Valentinus, you always counsel wisely! How can I
propitiate the god, assuring him of my continued loyal service?

VALENTINUS.

True service implies many things, Tertulla, among which not the least is
gratitude! Under the favour of Heaven human hands were needed to protect
the tender roots from the cruelties of winter, to water them in days of
drought, and foster their growth! The miracle of the god could be wrought
only by the devotion of a man!

TERTULLA.

[_After a slight pause._] If Pertinax is within hearing let him advance
to receive my thanks!

[_At a sign from VALENTINUS, PERTINAX obeys, on which TERTULLA addresses
him with much dignity._]

Although not condoning the presumption of your suit, Pertinax, yet....
[_She breaks off with a slight cry._] Why ... yours was the last face
I saw before my vision went to sleep, when you, a boy, drew me from the
reach of the all-devouring flames! [_She turns aside with emotion._] An
act but for which I should still be.... How unmindful have I been all
these years! But now ... you shall find me not ungrateful!

PERTINAX.

I ask nothing, Asteria Tertia, but pardon for the offence of having
lifted my own eyes toward you!... With the freedom your Jove-like father
has this day bestowed on me I withdraw from his service, never to cross
the threshold of your life again!... Kindly fare-you-well! [_He turns to
go._]

TERTULLA.

[_With a little cry._] Oh! But my garden!... Valentinus, what, think you,
would Faunus have me do with my affairs in such case? [_In a whisper to
VALENTINUS._]

VALENTINUS.

What does your own heart counsel you, Tertulla? [_He places in her hand
a blossoming spray._] Close your eyes again and dwell for a space in the
chambers of your spirit! [_TERTULLA does as he bids._] What see you now?

TERTULLA.

Of course the image of the god Faunus is lodged in the sacred penetralia,
never to be displaced by other object of veneration. [_PERTINAX sighs
heavily. She continues hesitatingly._] And yet....

VALENTINUS.

Ah? And how appears the god; in what image, Tulla?

TERTULLA.

Strange! A circumstance beyond my power to explain, but.... [_She speaks
confidentially so that PERTINAX shall not overhear._] Think me not
sacrilegious, Valentinus, when I say he resembles Pertinax!

PERTINAX.

[_Having crept close to listen._] O felicitous omen! Accept it, Asteria
Tertia, and that you shall not repent yourself of it will I dedicate my
life!

TERTULLA.

[_Opening eyes._] Would you? [_To VALENTINUS._]

VALENTINUS.

[_Nodding assent._] I would indeed, were I Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

Then, Pertinax, since what even now seemed presumption on your part is
presented to me as an act commended by the immortal gods and goddesses...!

[_Holds out a hand to him._]

PERTINAX.

O joyful day! Words fail me! Even Anacreon disowns me! I can only express
myself in terms of horticulture! Already the myrtle beloved of Venus puts
forth shoots, and blossoming with the rose, twines itself in a nuptial
wreath about Tertulla’s brow!

TERTULLA.

How beautiful! Speak more to me in such fashion! [_Draws him aside._]

ASTERIUS.

[_In the inner room._] Bring in the banquet. Set the tables. Place the
couches! Let nothing be wanting to the feast! [_He enters, followed by
NERVA and slaves bearing lamps, dishes, and all the material for a royal
feast._] This spot, which witnessed the prodigy of my child’s restoration
to sight, shall witness equally our gratitude!... Well, Valentinus! Has
Tulla convinced you of her loathing for that insect Pertinax? If so we
will amuse ourselves while feasting in devising means to torture him,
after which we will all be baptised! I understand your god insists on
mercy to one’s enemies, wherefore I delay allegiance to him till Pertinax
shall have been torn limb from limb!

NERVA.

[_Smacking his lips._] Limb from limb! M-m! [_Suddenly catches sight of
the two lovers, and exclaims, nearly dropping the dish he holds._] Now,
by Hercules...!

ASTERIUS.

[_Making for NERVA with stick._] Thumb-fingered one!

QUARTILLA.

O see my sister who clasps hands with Pertinax!

ASTERIUS.

[_Also seeing the two._] What! Does my vision play me tricks? Worker of
prodigies, is this your deed?

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about._] A miracle! A miracle!

VALENTINUS.

Only the miracle of youth!

TERTULLA.

[_Imploring._] Father!

PERTINAX.

[_Also imploring._] Father-in-law!

ASTERIUS.

[_Almost speechless._] Father and father-in-law! Now, by— [_NERVA
splutters with laughter, on which he raises his stick to him, then drops
it._] O ye gods! In vain do I remind myself that I am a Roman father!
Vainly do I call to mind the portico of one son-in-law, the estate at the
seventh milestone of the other! Even the bath fails me, the bath equipped
with hot and cold water and hot air! I am not enraged as I should be!
Even the brazen-tongued Nerva causes me mirth rather than fury!

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about._] A miracle! A miracle!

VALENTINUS.

Only the miracle of kindness working in your own good heart, Asterius!

ASTERIUS.

Then without more words let us to the banquet lest the meats grow cold
while miracles are multiplied!

[_ALL take places at table._]

TERTULLA.

[_Whispers to VALENTINUS._] Think you will Pertinax forgive me for my
adoration for the god Faunus?

VALENTINUS.

Surely, by the aid of the miracle of love!

PERTINAX.

[_Also goes to VALENTINUS, speaking to him apart._] Think you that my
wife will expect impossible deeds of me, mistaking me for a god?

VALENTINUS.

Fear not! That danger will be prevented by the miracle of marriage!

[_ALL take places at the tables, reclining on the couches that servants
have brought. Musicians begin a prelude on flute, lyre, and harp.
Suddenly QUARTILLA starts up, lifting a hand for silence._]

QUARTILLA.

Oh, listen! [_There is a general hush._] My dove ... my dove has found
its mate!




THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESOS

_Easter_




THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESOS


CHARACTERS

    _THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. Lads, of the time of Decius who reigned
      over the Roman Empire from A. D. 249 to 251, named CONSTANTINE,
      DION, MAXIMUS, IOANNES, MARTINUS, MALCHUS, and SERAPÍON._
    _A YOUNG SLAVE named CONSTANTINE and six Schoolboys, of the
      time of Theodosius II, who reigned from A. D. 408 to 450, named
      DION, MAXIMUS, IOANNES, MARTINUS, MALCHUS and SERAPÍON._
    _Other persons of the same day, including_
    _THE EMPEROR and his suite_,
    _THE SCHOOLMASTER, called by the boys Didaskalos_,
    _A PRIEST, a CONTRACTOR, an OVERSEER, a CENTURION and SOLDIERS,
      the MAGISTRATE, the TOWNCLERK, other OFFICIALS, SLAVES working
      in the quarry, AN OLD SLAVE WOMAN, grandmother of CONSTANTINE_,
    _HOLIDAY-MAKERS with their attendant SLAVES, and_
    _A FRIEND who belongs to all ages and countries_.


FOREWORD

Let us take a flight backward over fifteen centuries to a date somewhere
about A. D. 410. The Roman Empire is the centre of the civilised world,
with Constantinople for its capital and Theodosius II upon the throne.
Let us imagine ourselves in Asia Minor, visiting a city of Lydia which
we are accustomed to call in Roman fashion Ephesus, but which we will
to-day spell Ephesos to remind us of a fact of which it was too proud
ever to forget ... its Greek origin. Indeed Ephesos at all times seems to
have held its head high. It prided itself for one thing on its commercial
importance, its situation rendering it an admirable starting-place
for Roman legions on their eastward march of conquest no less than an
admirable port from which the spoils of the orient, brought across the
desert routes by caravan, could be shipped to western markets. From this
it gained the name of Key, or Gateway, to the eastern Empire. In the
earlier days of its history Ephesos had also proudly styled itself the
Temple-Keeper City on account of its devotion to the great nature-goddess
Artemis in whose honour a magnificent sanctuary had been erected there
some thousand years before this day we are to relive in the reign of
Theodosius II. Little gold and silver shrines of Artemis were fabricated
and sold in Ephesos while Christianity was still under a ban, and, as
you will recall, it was the fear of the guild of smith-craftsmen that the
new religion would deprive them of this industry that caused an uprising
against the Apostle Paul during his missionary labours there. Then when
Constantine the Great declared in favour of Christianity, causing it to
be the officially established religion of Imperial Rome, we find Ephesos
priding itself on the zeal with which it renounces its ancient deities,
and either razing the temples of these or converting them into churches
with forms of worship adapted to the new creed.

It is a holiday in spring, and holidays here seem much the same as
elsewhere. Schoolboys freed from the rule of didaskalos go to the shores
of the River Kaÿstros to skip oyster shells, or they play hide-and-seek
in the fields of wheat and millet that grow high as a man’s head. Perhaps
when the back of the Centurion with his vine-branch rod is turned they
will form a group in the pleasant shade of some portico to match coins.
“Heads or ships?” we shall hear them say, if by chance a Roman piece
has found its way among the locally minted currency. Picnic parties
attended by slaves bearing huge baskets of provisions will be seeking
the quarried sides of Prion and Kóressos, the beautiful mountains that
overlook Ephesos. Stories will be told by the old to the young: legends
of the days when the Temple of Artemis ... now but a picturesque ruin ...
was sanctuary during a Persian invasion; later fables of the persecutions
instituted by the Emperor Decius against the professors of the new
religion who were fain to meet by stealth in upper chambers to worship,
or be scourged, thrown, perchance, to beasts in the arena. Perhaps some
antiquarian will have discovered a papyrus on which he has deciphered a
hymn in praise of Artemis, coupled with an ode to the City, to be sung by
the Epheboi, the youths of the place, and the girls destined to be Temple
priestesses, at the great festival of springtide when nature’s self
celebrates the glory of resurrection after its winter sleep, and decks
the world with flowers. In those days the month of festival was called
Artemision, but now it is known as Easter! Listen to the chants from the
churches dedicated to St. Paul, St. John! But even as you hear the “Glory
to the Father” the winds that acknowledge no religion, old or new, and
the echoes that witness them all, bring back to life the strains of the
ancient processional, sung to flute, harp and lyre, in praise of the
banished goddess Artemis by boys and girls over whose graves the flowers
of nigh two centuries have grown!

HYMN TO ARTEMIS

      O Artemis,
    Great goddess-mother, born
    When from primeval night’s abyss
      Primeval rose the morn!

      To well-strung lyre
    Thy choric praise we sing,
    Libations pour, tend sacred fire,
      Bear garland-offering.

      As Prion’s peak
    Strains toward sky-swung star
    So conquerors thy favour seek,
      O goddess tutelar!

      Unbought, unsold,
    Abides thine altar-stone,
    Nor subjugate by Crœsus’ gold,
      Nor pride of Macedon!

      Thy columned fane
    From quarries hewn of time,
    Oft razed, but rears itself again
      In grandeur more sublime!

      In war or peace
    Then grant, as aye before,
    Arms’ victory and earth’s increase,
      In peace, goddess, or war!

HYMN IN PRAISE OF THE CITY EPHESOS

    O City Temple-Keeper, praise be thine
    For fruitful olive, corn, and clustered vine,
        Sweet-watered plain,
    And prospered orchard, flocks on sunny sides
    Of hills where silver-tracked Kaÿstros glides
        To trackless main!

    O wide thy roads that height and desert span
    For mustered troop and laden caravan,
        An Empire’s key
    From morning star to star at eve that dips
    Into yon harbour whence our gallied ships
        Go down to sea!

    O fair thine iris-mead and cypress grove
    Where Egypt’s queen and Roman soldier wove
        Love’s dream of joy!
    Mighty thy pride of old Ionic race,
    Altar and hearth no power can abase
        Nor time destroy!

The winds fold their wings among the hills and the echoes slip back into
the valleys with their memories of boys and girls with their flowering
garlands, incense bearers, priests and priestesses of long ago who
used to march through the city and climb the hill to the Temple in the
month of Artemision; and the cross over the gateway that we see in the
distance, and the peal of the Gloria from the churches remind us that
this is a modern and Christian Ephesos through which we are wandering
at Eastertide in the year 410. From the market-place we have passed to
the stadion where the young athletes of the place are practising for
the games that will be held later on, and now our steps have brought
us beyond city bounds in the direction of Kóressos. Here we find that,
although it is a holiday, gangs of slaves directed by an overseer are
busily quarrying the grey marble for which this mountain is famed.
Mingling with the bystanders we pause to watch them as they tear down a
pile of loose, large stones that seem at some time to have been stacked
up against what looks like a solid wall of masonry. As the sun is high
and we are wearied with our climb we join a group sitting in the shadow
of a plane tree, enjoying the view, listening to the distant chimes and
the anthems of praise from the churches. Meanwhile our attention is
arrested by the talk that goes on about us.

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_As a huge block rolls down._]

    Good! Still a few such blocks, and lo! fulfilled
    My contract!

A PRIEST.

                         [_Passing, pauses._]

                  Working! Through what greed of gain
    Profane you thus the holy festival
    Of Eastertide?

THE OVERSEER.

                A holy work, in truth,
    Good presbyter! Aye; albeit delayed
    Through curious reluctance of these slaves ...
    Dogs, Would you slacken when my back is turned!

                         [_He menaces the SLAVES who seem to work most
                           unwillingly; then continues_]

    ... to quarry the grey ribs of Kóressos
    For marble for the final resting-place
    Of an Apostle!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Enlightened._]

                    What! To line the tomb
    Of blessed Paulos destined, then, these stones?

THE OVERSEER.

    The contract so attests!

A DANDY.

                         [_Passing by with an OFFICIAL pauses._]

                              Increased the land
    In value, neighbouring the tomb, since all
    Of ardent faith interred will seek to lie
    Near bones canonical and sanctified!
    Let us go bargain for it secretly!

THE OFFICIAL.

    Forget you, marts are closed and business waits
    On Eastertide?

THE DANDY.

                    ’Tis true, worse luck to it!

A YOUNG SLAVE.

    This is the last stone that I roll away!

                         [_The other SLAVES mutter assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Angrily._]

    Silence! Or taste the lash!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Apostrophising the mountain._]

                                O Kóressos,
    How many pagan fanes in bygone days
    Your sides have yielded! Now your very heart
    The mortal part of immortality
    Shall shrine! Hallow’d such toil on hallow’d day,
    How must ye love it! [_To the SLAVES._]

THE SLAVES.

                         [_In contemptuous derision._]

                          We!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                         [_Offering his tools to the PRIEST._]

                              An like it you
    So greatly, come, then; take my place at it!

                         [_This daring act causes a sensation._]

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Unable to credit his ears._]

    What, I? A father of the church!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                                        Why not,
    If hallowed task you deem it fits it not
    Your calling?

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Unable to credit his senses._]

                Eyes, deceive ye me? O ears,
    Be ye discredited! Slave this? Ye gods!

                         [_No sooner has he made this slip of the tongue
                           than he becomes uncomfortably conscious of it
                           from the shocked amusement of the bystanders._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                         [_With sardonic mirth._]

    Upon the gods he calls! This man of God
    On ancient gods, on banished gods and banned
    Is fain to call for witness! Hear him, gods!

                         [_This daring speech causes a great sensation._]

THE PRIEST.

    O blasphemous! For trifling tongue-slip thus
    To be construed as utterance profane!
    Heaven, avenge Thy servant! Lightning-shaft
    And bolted thunder strike this slave! [_With arms upraised._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                         [_With a sneer._]

                                          Too clear
    The face of morning! Did fulfilment wait
    Such miracle though, easier its death
    Than the life-haunting frenzy that predooms
    Who delve into this mountain’s mystery!

AN OLD SLAVE.

    Truth speaks he!

                         [_The other SLAVES murmur assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Angrily._]

                      Truth or falsehood, his next word
    Will earn a whipping!... Are the oxen yoked?

                         [_He looks toward a point beyond our vision._]

    Then load with these the drays!

                         [_He indicates the stones already quarried,
                           accordingly the SLAVES slip a noosed rope
                           about the largest of these and drag it away._]

THE PRIEST.

                         [_In a temper._]

                                        Lash-threat I deem
    Too light a penance for his saucy tongue!
    Centurion! [_He calls and beckons to someone._] What, ho! Centurion!
    This city’s wretchedly policed!

THE CENTURION.

                         [_Majestically stalks on._]

                                    Who calls,
    And wherefore?

THE PRIEST.

                  Yon’s a slave whose tongue offends.

CENTURION.

    In course of nature! Slaves should all be born
    Untongued, were I consulted!... Slaves, and boys
    Of schooling years!

                         [_He shakes his rod threateningly at a group of
                           SCHOOLBOYS who are imitating his stride, then
                           continues, addressing the OVERSEER._]

    The wretch your chattel is.
    Why not yourself chastise him?

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Shaking his head._]

                                      Sinewed brawn
    I can’t afford to quarrel with. His lead
    The others follow. Mutiny ’twould cause.

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Appealing, angrily._]

    Unscathed such blasphemy? Centurion....

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Appealing, anxiously._]

    Undone the work! Centurion....

THE CENTURION.

                                          The noon
    Is sunful, steep the climbing hill, and I
    No longer in my sapling years. Where shade
    Invites I’ll weigh the matter duly, which
    Hath greater claim on Rome’s authority:
    A partly holy man, wholly alive, [_Indicating the PRIEST_]
    Or an Apostle, wholly holy, dead!

                         [_He sits under the tree and falls into a doze._]

IOANNES [_a Schoolboy_].

    Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
    Or sail our galleys!

MAXIMUS.

                          In the stadion
    I’m all for diskos-throwing, sprinting. Come,
    A trial race! [_To DION._]

DION.

                         [_Agreeing._]

                  I’m with you!

                         [_The two athletes, DION and MAXIMUS strip off
                           their outer garments, throw these down, under
                           the tree._]

SERAPÍON.

                         [_A small boy, with a slight limp._]

    O Dion, brother! Let me come with you!

DION.

    Too small is Serapíon, and too lame!...
    Ready, Maximus?

MAXIMUS.

                                Ready!

                         [_They stand ready to start. The OTHERS give
                           the signal, “One, Two, Three, Off!” and they
                           run off._]

SERAPÍON.

    Always too little, and too lame! Ah, well:
    My Æsop’s fables must I learn by heart!

                         [_He walks apart, trying to recall his lesson._]

    “A nightingale did sing ... did sing ... sing ... sing....
    When hungry hawk ... when hungry hawk....”

MALCHUS.

    Here, let’s play knucklebones!

                         [_The OTHERS assent, crying, “Knucklebones!”_]

    Or, better: flipcoin!

IOANNES.

    But that’s forbidden!

MALCHUS.

                      What of that? No one
    Is looking! Sleeps authority.

                         [_Pointing to the CENTURION who is snoring
                           slightly. They laugh, tickle his ear with a
                           spear of grass. He brushes this aside, saying,
                           “Shoo, fly!” The BOYS, feeling safe, sit on
                           the ground, and prepare to play flipcoin._]

MAXIMUS.

    See, here’s a Roman piece. Who matches me?
    Ioannes, you? [_IOANNES shakes his head._] What now? Afraid to lose?

IOANNES.

                         [_With some heat._]

    You know it is not so, Malchus. My word
    I passed I would not!

MALCHUS.

                          You’re too good
    To live! Martinus, then?

MARTINUS.

                         [_Shakes head, refusing._]

                              No money!

MALCHUS.

                                        Eh?
    What’s that? A tetradrachm!

                         [_Pointing to a coin MARTINUS has been clutching,
                           and now tosses up and catches nimbly._]

MARTINUS.

                         [_Explains._]

                                  ’Tis for a loaf
    Of bread. My mother bade me careful be
    To count the change!... Ah, well; no harm to stake
    A little sum against a large one!

MALCHUS.

                                  Good!
    Then.... Heads or ships!

MARTINUS.

                            Ships!

MALCHUS.

                                    Heads it is! You lose!

MARTINUS.

                         [_Suddenly realising what he has done._]

    I’ve lost! Oh, oh!

MALCHUS.

                         [_With some heat._]

                        Well, stood you not to lose or win?

MARTINUS.

    True! Oh, fair play was it! ’Twas fairly won!
    Not fairly lost, though. Since not mine was it
    To play with! [_To himself, bitterly._]

IOANNES.

                  Look! Here come the racers! Mark
    How Dion leads!

                         [_ALL run to watch the two runners as they
                           approach, crying, “Well run! Good Dion! Good
                           old Maximus!” etc._]

MAXIMUS.

    Again! Again ’tis Dion’s victory!

DION.

    To-morrow better luck for Maximus!

                         [_They dress themselves assisted by the OTHERS.
                           Voices are heard approaching._]

IOANNES.

    Here comes Didaskalos! A stranger-friend
    He shows the sights! Now hearken to him prate
    As owned he city, mountain, view, and all!

                         [_Enter the SCHOOLMASTER with THE FRIEND. The
                           BOYS hide._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    Here panoramic spreads itself a view
    Of Ephesos, our city fair of fame....

THE BOYS.

                         [_Put their heads forth reciting._]

    By Greek-Ionians founded. Subjugate
    By Persian satrap, Great Aléxandros
    Of Macedon, in turn; and finally
    By Romans!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                Eh? Who speaks?

THE BOYS.

                         [_Showing themselves._]

                                  We echo you,
    Didaskalos!

                         [_They laugh, and hide again as he threatens
                           them._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Angrily._]

                The rascals!

THE FRIEND.

                         [_Smiling._]

                            Well they know
    Their history!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Propitiated, continues to point out the
                           sights._]

                    Mount Prion, yonder, twin
    To Kóressos here, limestone famed. Mark well
    The valley-sweep between!... The city-gates
    Within you see the agora, buildings
    Municipal; and at Kaÿstros’ mouth
    Our sally-port!... Odeîon! Library!
    Theatre which seats about three thousand!
    And churches of Saints Peter, Paul and John!

THE FRIEND.

    And yon, those ruins of a grandeur passed,
    Still splendid, awe-inspiring ... aye, sublime...?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Shocked._]

    Good friend ... a pagan temple, justly razed....

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Who has been sitting, making notes on
                           his tablets, starts up and joins in
                           the discussion._]

    Not razed yet low enough! Not stone on stone
    Should still be standing, were the city keen
    On matters sacred as on secular!

                         [_The FRIEND looks from one to the other for
                           explanation._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    Yon ruins mark the one-time templed site
    Of Artemis....

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Taking the words from him._]

                    In days of error, now
    Thank Heaven, passed! the city’s tutelar!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Trying to continue his lecture._]

    No kin to Græco-Roman Artemis,
    But Asian, autochthonic, to be classed
    With nature-worship idols!

THE BOYS.

                                  Ahem! Hear, hear!
    More information, pray, Didaskalos!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Threatening them._]

    Rascals! Wait till I get you in the classroom!

THE FRIEND.

    How beautiful! There never was a time
    When heart of man aloof from worship stood;
    No age so dark but best of hand and brain
    To temple-rearing has been consecrate!
    Receive, O ruined fane, my homage!

                         [_He bows toward the TEMPLE._]

THE TWO OTHERS.

                         [_Shocked._]

                                        What!
    Some heretic is this?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                          You called yourself,
    Methought, a student of divinity!

THE FRIEND.

                         [_Bowing assent._]

    Therefore see spark divine wherever burns
    An altar-flame in any human breast!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Returning to his work._]

    Such laxity ... I doubt he’s orthodox!

SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_To the FRIEND._]

    Shall we be going?... Ouch! My toe I stubbed!

                         [_He kicks a small object, lying among the
                           rubble, and suddenly arrested by some
                           peculiarity in its appearance, stoops
                           and picks it up._]

    What’s this? Upon my word, a silver shrine ...

                         [_He dusts off the object._]

    An Artemis ... and dated, A. U. C.... [_Reckons, mentally._]
    A century and half a century
    Would take us back to, let me see ... whose reign?

THE BOYS.

                         [_Appearing, deride him._]

    Ha, ha, Didaskalos! Oh, dunce, forget you thus your tables?
    I’ll birch you, when I get you in the classroom! Wait and see!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    Rascals!... The reign of Decius! That’s it!

                         [_He brushes off more dust to examine the
                           shrine._]

    Made by Demetrios....

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Who has come to look._]

    Not the Demetrios of Paulos’ time!
    Not by two centuries!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                            Generic name,
    In Ephesos, for silversmiths! A find
    Indeed! [_Holds up the shrine._] My name as antiquarian
    ’Twill render known!

THE PRIEST.

                          It should be exorcised
    As heathen trash, and cast into the fire!

THE FRIEND.

                         [_Protesting mildly._]

    Someone once held it sacred! Still a form
    Of beauty is it!

THE BOYS.

                         [_Capering about._]

    “Great is Artemis! Great is Ephesian Artemis!
    O great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”

THE PRIEST.

    What sinful words are these?

THE BOYS.

                                ’Tis history
    We quote! You ask Didaskalos!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                                      Rascals!
    I’ll birch you well to-morrow! Just you see!

THE PRIEST.

    My birching will not keep! Till orthodox
    And proper Christians do they show themselves
    I’ll thrash them black and blue!

                         [_He and the SCHOOLMASTER chase the BOYS._]

THE CENTURION.

                         [_Waking._]

                          How now! How now!
    What’s this disturbance! Who is chasing whom
    And wherefore? Or is ’t some game you play?

                         [_To the PRIEST and the SCHOOLMASTER, who are
                           highly disgusted at the question._]

THE PRIEST.

    Some game, forsooth!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                          Instead of swelling out
    Your chest to show your medals, why not use
    Your vine-rod on those boys!

THE CENTURION.

                            Boys! Show me boys
    To use my vine-rod on and I will use
    My vine-rod on those boys!

                         [_They look about for the BOYS who, needless to
                           say, have profited by this dispute to vanish._]

THE BOYS.

                         [_Appear on a height, and shout._]

    Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Come, catch us, an you dare!

                         [_Again they disappear as the three make a feint
                           of pursuing them._]

THE CENTURION.

    Too tender of them are you!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Unable to believe his ears._]

                                  I?

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Equally amazed._]

                                      I?

THE CENTURION.

                                          Aye!

THE FRIEND.

                         [_With great kindliness._]

    Young, growing creatures, full of living’s joy,
    O be not hard on them!

THE CENTURION.

                          Said Solomon,
    The vine-rod spare, the birch-twig spare, and spoil
    The schoolboy and the Christian! Mark you, so
    Said Solomon! [_He stalks off with great majesty._]

                         [_THE OVERSEER and THE SLAVES now return. The
                           former, by gesture, indicates that the work of
                           quarrying is to be resumed. THE YOUNG SLAVE
                           gives one blow to the side of the rock, then
                           throws down his tools._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

    So far I work. No farther. Not one stroke!

THE OTHER SLAVES.

    So I!—I follow his example!—I
    Also! The word we stand by! All! Aye, all!

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Furious._]

    Accurséd dogs! But one more stone we need!
    But one! [_Changing to a placative tone._] One!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

            Quarry it yourself, then!... Here!

                         [_Offers the OVERSEER his pick._]

THE OVERSEER.

    An extra dole of corn, measure of wine
    Compliance shall reward!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                              Bribes tempt us not,
    Nor threats affright!

                         [_The OTHER SLAVES assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

                         [_Calls._]

    Centurion! What ho!

THE CENTURION.

                         [_Enters._]

    Who calls, and wherefore?... What; these slaves refuse
    The pick and axe?... Well, are you wool-weavers,
    Or bakers, even, that a guild you form?
    Or fishmongers who would run up the cost
    Of living? Now, by Hercules ... I mean,
    By Heaven, freedmen do you think yourselves
    Daring to hold opinions of your own! [_With scathing sarcasm._]

THE CONTRACTOR.

                         [_Hastens on._]

    Why this delay? What’s happening? The slaves
    Leagued in rebellion!... Cut them into strips!

                         [_Voices are heard of people approaching. A
                           crowd gathers. There is great general
                           excitement._]

BYSTANDERS.

                         [_Cry._]

    Soldiers! Here come the townclerk, magistrate!

                         [_Enter SOLDIERS, TOWNCLERK, MAGISTRATE and
                           others._]

THE TOWNCLERK.

                         [_Arriving first, and stuttering with
                           excitement._]

    Wh-what’s the matter? [_He grasps the situation._]
    What, a gang of slaves
    Their will asserting? Know you not no will
    You have, hence how may ye assert it? [_To the SLAVES._] Eh? Answer
      me that!

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Arriving, pompously._]

                            Am I to understand...?

THE CENTURION.

                         [_Interrupting._]

    Precisely, Magistrate! You are to understand....
    That is to say, if understand you can! My understanding,
    I confess, it passes, that dogs who are not citizens
    should so defy the might of Rome! [_Indicating himself._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

    Breath’s wasted! Seize them; bind them. Send a score
    To take their place! [_THE SOLDIERS prepare to obey._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                    Bind, torture us! In vain!
    Aye, crucify us! All in vain! You’ll find
      No one in Ephesos our place to take!

                         [_This produces a sensation. The SOLDIERS shrink
                           from obeying orders to seize the SLAVES._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Hands upraised in consternation._]

    With Cæsar here in town ... Great Cæsar’s self ...
    Blest Theodosius here the feast to bless!

THE PRIEST.

    The resting place to bless of Paulos ... he who came
    To preach ... to preach ... [_Referring to tablets_] ... to preach ...

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    My speech his life rehearses. “He who came
    To preach ... to preach ... [_Referring to tablets_] to preach....”

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_To the CENTURION._]

    We waste the day! Example make of these!
    We’ll test if others will not take their place!

THE PRIEST.

    And be accurséd! Let the Church’s curse
    Fall on who shame our city, Christian heart
    Of Christian-empired Rome.

AN OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

                         [_Wailing._]

    Oh, my little one! My daughter’s child ... Son to mine old age ...
    Oh, take him not away! [_She tries to make her way to the YOUNG
    SLAVE._] So good a lad and dutiful ... my Constantine! See, now,
    masters ... named for that great emperor who set the cross above
    our city gates ... and now you take him from me! Constantine ...
    would I might suffer in your stead!

THE MAGISTRATE.

    Remove the woman!

                         [_SOLDIERS force her back._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                      There, good mother, hush! [_Soothingly._]
    This deed the mountain’s self will yet avenge!

                         [_The other SLAVES assent._]

THE FRIEND.

                         [_Steps forward._]

    Pardon. A word I’d venture, by your leave! [_To the MAGISTRATE._]

THE TOWNCLERK.

    Your name, young man?

THE CENTURION.

                         [_Glad of something to do._]

    The townclerk asks your name!

THE FRIEND.

    Unknown, a stranger, matters not. A friend!
    These faithful souls, all trembling, ill with fear—
    What bodes it?

                         [_The SLAVES all turn to him intuitively, with
                           hope and trust._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Impatiently._]

                That, who knows or cares to know!

THE FRIEND.

    Ah, pardon me! A Christian land methought
    You called this!

ALL.

                         [_Indignant._]

                      As it is!

THE PRIEST.

                                Have you not marked
    The cross above each city gate? And hear you not
    The chanted Glorias! [_The chants are heard in the distance._]

                          Prepare we not
    A tomb for sacred Apostolic bones!
    What infidel denies our faith?

                         [_This creates a reaction against the FRIEND._]

THE FRIEND.

                                  In name
    Of Christos, too, my country far away
    Is signed. Strange customs, though, with us obtain.
    A slave, the meaner is his task and hard,
    The lowlier his spirit, so his rank
    We hold exalted!

                         [_This causes amusement to some, but interests
                           all. The SLAVES reach their hands toward the
                           FRIEND who continues._]

                      By oppression crushed
    His heart? With love we seek to heal it, arm
    Anew with hope! His wealth who gives away
    To feed God’s poor our richest citizen
    We count! To dry the tears of sorrow kings
    Contend! Our rod of empire is the rule—
    The golden rule—Judge none, while loving all!

                         [_This produces a great effect on all, and for
                           a moment there is silence, broken by_]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    Where lies this country, pray? Geography,
    As I have learned it, teach it, knows it not!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Slightly dazed._]

    Strange! As in dreams ... Where have I heard
    A land
    Where kindness rules and service is but love!

SEVERAL.

                         [_With hands to head, seeking to recall._]

    I too have heard ... Where is that country, now
    Where kindness rules and service is but love?

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_With irony._]

    Since order in your land, it seems, prevails,
    Without so much as clash and show of arms,
    How bring you sullen dogs like these to time?
    With kindness?

THE FRIEND.

                      Give you leave that I may try?

                         [_The CROWD favour this, but the OFFICIALS demur,
                           conferring apart. Finally they decide to try
                           the experiment._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_With a wave of the hand._]

    ’Tis Eastertide. Such pleasantry will feed
    The holidaying humour of the crowd!

                         [_ALL watch with deepest interest, some hoping
                           the FRIEND will fail, others in sympathy with
                           him._]

THE FRIEND.

                         [_To the SLAVES._]

    Friends, brothers, weary are ye? Sit, then!

                         [_This provokes a murmur of incredulity from
                           the SLAVES._]

                                                Come,
    Your welcome gather from the kindly looks
    Of these, the city fathers! Hungry, ye?
    Athirst?... Here’s bread ... and fruit, and wine ...
    And gentle hands to minister!

                         [_The SLAVES sit, and the FRIEND signs to the
                           HOLIDAY-MAKERS who, obeying, hasten to open
                           their baskets, and bring forth their stores,
                           waiting with kindest solicitude on their
                           wants._]

                                ’Tis well!
    Feast not as almoners, but guests who share
    The blessedness of hospitality!

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Working himself up._]

    If Babylonian sorcerer he prove
    Alive shall he be flayed, his skin nailed up
    On the Cathedral door!

THE CONTRACTOR.

                            Oh, stay your hand
    Till by his arts the work is finished!

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_With growing uneasiness._]

                                            But
    Who is the man?... ’Twas you who brought him! [_To the SCHOOLMASTER._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Disclaiming responsibility._]

                                              Oh,
    Not I his bondsman! Student, said he; once
    A carpenter’s apprentice, from some spot
    Beyond the Lake of Galilee!

                         [_The MAGISTRATE shakes his head doubtfully.
                           The PRIEST puzzles more than ever, seeking
                           to place the Stranger. Meanwhile, the banquet,
                           which has been progressing in a spirit of true
                           democracy, has come to an end._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

                         [_Addressing the FRIEND._]

    With love love to requite, our lives are yours!
    Ask what you will! [_The other SLAVES assent to this._]

THE OFFICIALS.

                         [_Prompt the FRIEND._]

                          Bid them the work complete!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

    Even to that last bitterness his voice,
    Tender as heaven’s mercy that you preach [_To the PRIEST_]
    Shall nerve our flagging courage. Where he leads
    Blindly we follow, knowing him our friend!

                         [_The other SLAVES assent, while all marvel at
                             this change._]

THE FRIEND.

                         [_To the SLAVES._]

    First voice your trouble. Give it words. Wherefore
    Ye fear this grey old mountain? See where wait
    In kindness all your friends ... the Magistrate,
    And all who love ye, judging not!

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Smiles._]

                                        How well
    My thought unspoken reads he!

    THE OTHERS IN AUTHORITY.

                                  Mine as well!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

    Then let my mother’s mother tell the tale
    As she has told it me!

                         [_The OLD SLAVE WOMAN is thrust forward._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Handing her to a seat._]

                            Good dame, your years
    Entitle you to ease!... So, now; your tale!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

    Long years gone by ... Oh, years agone, when Decius was Cæsar, monster
    bloodthirsty....

MARTINUS.

    Horns, tail, had he, cleft foot, and spat he flames?
    And munched and crunched the bones of little boys?

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

    My mother’s mother told me not. She had it from her mother’s mother.
    She from her mother’s mother. She....

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Kindly._]

    Pray you, skip antecedent mothers!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

    Hard was the heart of Decius, hard, hard,
    Stone-hard!... Who loved the Christos whom we love
    He hated, had them beaten, burned alive,
    Or thrown to hungry lions!

                         [_Enthralled, the CHILDREN exclaim._]

                                Even so,
    Children as you are, too!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                              In terms precise
    The edict reads....

ALL.

                          Oh, hush!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

                                    Seven there were ...
    Of names and years like yours! [_To the SCHOOLBOYS._]
                                    One, Constantine,
    A slave-boy, noble though by birth and soul.
    Then Dion, splendid, athlete; Maximus
    His dearest rival; then a widow’s son
    Martinus; next Ioannes, orphan he.
    And Malchus with a fowl. Thrice he denied
    His Lord, repented of it, though. And last
    Wee Serapíon with a halting foot!
    All Christians!

MALCHUS.

                         [_In all good faith._]

                      Was the fowl a Christian too?

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

                         [_In equally good faith._]

    That surely!... Fled these seven boys by night,
    Beyond the city gates, sought refuge here,
    Right on this spot. Within a cave they hid!
    Then came the soldiers and the furied mob,
    And walled them in alive with heaped-up stones,
    And here alive they bide till Judgment-Day!

                         [_This produces a great sensation, though many
                           seem to pooh-pooh the tale._]

    And still their chanting voices may you hear,
    Give Glory to the Father, to the Son,
    And to the Holy Spirit.... Three in One!

                         [_She pauses, impressively, and indeed at this
                           moment may be heard a sweet, faint sound, as
                           of boys’ voices, seeming to issue from the
                           mountain._]

THE PRIEST.

    ’Tis the Cathedral choir that practises!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

    Thus fact of fantasy disposes, mocks
    An old wife’s tale!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

                        I give you what I heard!
    If it displease you, punish me ... but not
    My boy, my Constantine!... If proof you lack
    Another stone rolled down, rough-hewn will show
    A cross to mock their sleeping-place!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Seizing a tool._]

                                            Deathblow
    To fiction, first am I to strike!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Also seizing a tool._]

                                      So I
    To superstition!

THE MAGISTRATE.

                         [_Doing the same._]

                      I to mutiny!

                         [_Assisted by willing hands the three roll down
                           the stone indicated by the old SLAVE WOMAN.
                           As the cloud of dust it raises subsides a
                           cry arises from all, for on the side of the
                           mountain thus exposed is seen rough-hewn a
                           cross. All now hasten to clear away the rubble
                           beneath this, and soon the entrance to a cave
                           is visible. A ray of light, as from a sunbeam,
                           falls athwart this opening, whereupon there is
                           a faint cock-crow within the cave. So great a
                           panic does this cause that most of the people
                           run away, the MAGISTRATE, the PRIEST, and the
                           SCHOOLMASTER in the lead. Only the SCHOOLBOYS
                           remain with the FRIEND. Then, one by one the
                           people creep back, the OLD SLAVE WOMAN and
                           her grandson first, and the officials last
                           and most cautiously of all._]

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.

                         [_Within the cave call one to another._]

    What, ho! ’Tis morning! See the sun hath risen!

                         [_One by one yawning and stretching they come
                           from the cave._]

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

    After night’s tempest, ah, how sweet the morn!
    But ... what a change! All hushed the frenzied din
    That rent the skies of yesterday! No more
    The market-place runs blood, with fire and sword
    As man hunts down his fellow-creatures! Calm
    The city rests, and rises like a song
    The hum of gently avocationed lives
    And happy people! And ... surely I dream!
    Above the city gate a cross ... the cross
    Of Christos ... Him for love of whom we fled,
    Were prisoned here last night!

[Illustration: “What, ho! ’tis morning! See, the Sun hath risen.”]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

                         [_Explaining._]

                                  That night, how long!
    A century and half a century!

                         [_All hush him, though the young SLEEPER seems
                           not to have heard him, nor indeed to be aware
                           that others are present._]

IOANNES [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Coming forth._]

    Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
    Or sail our galleys! ’Tis a holiday.
    ’Tis Artemision!

THE PRIEST.

                         [_Kindly correcting._]

                      Come, come, my child;
    Forbear such terms and call it Easter!

                         [_The other watchers silence him, though still
                           the SLEEPERS fail to notice them._]

DION [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Coming forth._]

    Fine weather for the games! Ho, Maximus!
    I’ll race you to the city gate and back!

MAXIMUS [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Coming forth._]

    Wait, Dion, till I get my breath! [_Yawns._] How stiff
    My muscles! [_Stretching._]

DION AND MAXIMUS [_the Schoolboys_].

                         [_Advancing with outstretched hands._]

                      Dion and Maximus,
    Even as we, come to the stadion!

                         [_But the others fail to see them or to heed
                           the invitation._]

MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Coming forth._]

    That loaf of bread my mother sent me for
    I was forgetting it! That tetradrachm
    She bade me change, where is it?... I forgot!
    At flipcoin lost I it to Malchus!

MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].

                                      Just
    As I did!

MALCHUS [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Coming forth, carrying a basket._]

                Here, Martinus! Take your coin!
    We slept on it, Aléxandros and I!
    Your mother’s is it, so not yours to lose,
    Nor mine to win!

MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Accepting the coin the other holds out to him._]

                      I thank you, Malchus!

MALCHUS [_the Schoolboy_].

                                            I,
    Too, thank you, namesake mine! Martinus, here!
    Take back your mother’s tetradrachm!

MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].

                         [_Accepting the coin his friend holds out to
                           him._]

                                          Malchus,
    I say, that’s fine!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

    My Æsop’s fables must I get by heart! “A nightingale
    did sing ... did sing ... did sing....”

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

                         [_Prompting._]

    “When hungry hawk espied her!” My name is Serapíon,
    too!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_Seeing him._]

    Oh, what a funny looking little boy!

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

    Funny looking yourself! I knew more of the fable than
    you did, anyway!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

                         [_To his fellows._]

    Look! A little boy!... And, oh, crowds and crowds
    of people!

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

    No, dear child! There’s no one but ourselves!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

    But I see them clearly!... Come and play with me!

                         [_To the other SERAPÍON._]

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

                         [_Timidly advancing._]

I’d like to, but ... somehow ... you seem ... not real.... No, I don’t
mean that! But just as if you came out of a dream!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

Dream yourself! Why, as I look at you you fade and fade away ... and
now I don’t see you at all!... Constantine, is it true we shall be put
to death for loving Christos?

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

                         [_Suddenly recalling their plight._]

    Aye; truth is it, or dream?

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

                              Dream of a night
    Forever vanished!... Listen to the song
    Praising the God of Love!

                         [_Clear and sweet rises the sound of the Gloria.
                           The SLEEPERS, rejoicing, seek to join in it,
                           but their voices fail them._]

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

    Home ... then may we go home?

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

                                  Home! That’s the word!
    May we go home?

                         [_The FRIEND stands forth, and a radiance comes
                           from him. CONSTANTINE the Sleeper sees him,
                           and exclaims, joyfully._]

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

                      Home, home! Here is a friend
    Will guide us!

                         [_THE FRIEND passes quietly from the scene, a
                           light streaming from the direction he has
                           taken. THE SLEEPERS stretch their hands toward
                           him, with a joyful cry._]

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.

    Lead, Master! We follow ... follow ... home!

                         [_Even while speaking they sink down on the
                           ground near the cave, and close their eyes as
                           if in sleep. The EMPEROR and his suite approach,
                           as if they had been looking on, near by, and
                           fall reverently on their knees, their example
                           being followed by the multitude, while the
                           chant rises ever more clear and sweet. The
                           Seven SCHOOLBOYS pluck brightly flowering
                           branches and lay these beside the SLEEPERS
                           and shower blossoms over them. And so the
                           scene fades from our sight._]




PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE

_For Every Child’s Birthday_


GREETING TO THE AUDIENCE

Spoken in front of the curtain

by

THE CHILD WHOSE BIRTHDAY IT IS

    To-day it is my birthday. Yes! Now who this group among
    Can guess, I wonder, just how old I am, or just how young:
    One, two, three, four, five, six, or seven; eight, nine, ten,
      or ... stay!
    I’m one year older than I was this same hour yesterday!
    Wait till you see my birthday cake in which a candle burns
    For every year I’ve lived, plus one for luck and glad returns!

    I’ve read that children carefully their birthdays ought to keep,
    And yet how can we, when they come, and go, when we’re asleep?
    Still, if you’ll kindly help me keep this one I’ll do my best
    That no one ... no, not even Time, shall rob me of the rest!
    Then when I’m very, very old I’ll tell you what I’ll do:
    I’ll give those birthdays all away. And some I’ll give to you!




PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE


_We shall now witness THREE EVENTS in the Life of the PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE.
These take place in the hall of her father’s castle. Besides the PRINCESS
herself her parents, the KING and QUEEN, will assist at the EVENTS,
also the COURT: the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR, the ROYAL NURSE, GOVERNESS,
BUTLER, COOK, GARDENER, and LORDS and LADIES OF QUALITY. HUNTSMEN, PAGES
and LACKEYS, too, will come and go as they are needed. Then there is a
FROG of high degree in Frogdom, who will receive the knightly accolade,
thereafter being known as SIR AMPHIBIOUS BATRACHIAN, with the right also
to call himself BARON FRESHWATER. TWO TADPOLES who grow up into rather
grouchy, rheumatic elderly FROGS are of his retinue. The THREE FATES
and DESTINY have inconspicuous, but important parts in the EVENTS. Then
we shall also see several FRAGMENTS of KINGS’ SONS who have perished in
their quest for the fabled MOSS-ROSE, and, accompanied by his tutor,
MENTOR, the victorous King’s Son, PRINCE CHARMING. Sixteen years divide
the SECOND EVENT from the first, and one hundred years the THIRD from
the SECOND. These passages of time, however, touch our royal friends but
lightly, and do not cause their royal clothes to wear out, or their royal
furniture to become shabby in the least. The scene is laid in the hall
of the KING’S castle, an apartment of suitable magnificence. Entrances
lead to banqueting-hall, servants’ offices, and other parts of the
establishment. Windows overlook the attractive grounds with a glimpse of
the forest beyond._


_THE FIRST EVENT_

_shows a pleasant morning in summer. THE KING and his HUNTSMEN are
assembled in the hall, singing a jovial hunting-chorus, while without the
DOGS bay, and the HORSES champ with proper impatience for the start._

HUNTING CHORUS

    Ho, Yoicks! ho!
    Hey, tally-ho!
    A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go!
    We’ll hunt by day, and we’ll hunt by dark;
    We’ll hunt the slipper, we’ll hunt the snark;
    The lion, tiger and buffalo,
    We’ll hunt them all, Ho, Yoicks, ho!
    We’ll hunt the bulrush and bull-moose,
    We’ll hunt mongander and mongoose!
    We’ll hunt the pole-cat, polar bear,
    The hairy musk-ox and the hare,
    We’ll hunt the dodo, dinosaur,
    The wild-boar and tame, talking bore!
    Aye, all the beasts in Noah’s Ark
    We’ll hunt by day and hunt by dark!
    And every one of them, you’ll see,
    Will love the sport as much as we,
    Because to kill is not our aim,
    Or hurt, since that would spoil the game!
    So, Yoicks, so,
    Hey, tally-ho!
    A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go!

[_At the close of the HUNTING SONG the KING and his suite are about to go
when the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR enters with as much haste as his girth and
dignity allow._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

The King, the King, where is the King!... Oh, Sire, I feared I should be
too late! Her Majesty the Queen begs you to forego your day’s hunting, as
she has a piece of news of the utmost importance to communicate to you!

THE KING.

My dear Lord High Chancellor, I am always most anxious to please the
Queen, as well you know, but as you can see and hear for yourself, the
nettlesome steeds are saddled, and are champing and pawing the ground,
the hounds are baying, and all the wild animals in the royal forest are
gnashing their teeth and growling fearsomely, impatient for the day’s
sport to begin!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Nevertheless, Sire, under the circumstances ... the extraordinary
circumstances....

THE KING.

Does the Queen’s news concern itself with house-cleaning the castle?
Or is Her Majesty desirous of purchasing a new crown? If so, can’t you
suggest to her to get the old one turned and made over? The jewels in it
are not in the least shabby; they are as good as new, in fact!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Sire, this is more important even than a crown! Here comes the Queen
herself to tell you all about it!

[_THE QUEEN enters to a flourish of trumpets, attended by her LADIES.
Following these comes the ROYAL NURSE bearing a tiny infant, wrapped in a
magnificent silken coverlet. THE NURSE stands in the background, with the
LADIES, while the QUEEN converses with the KING._]

THE QUEEN.

Oh, my dear, what luck to have caught you!

THE KING.

How can I serve my gracious consort?

THE QUEEN.

[_About to tell him the news._] Listen, then, and I’ll begin at the
beginning.

THE KING.

As you please! Hark! What noise is that!

[_He listens, while a slight wail issues from the bundle the NURSE
carries._]

THE QUEEN.

Guess!

THE KING.

If it is the throne-room door that is screaking it had better be oiled!

[_Protesting exclamations rise from all the LADIES and the NURSE at this
prosaic idea._]

THE QUEEN.

[_Amused, as if it were a game._] Oh, cold, cold!

THE KING.

If any of the Dukes have on new boots that creak they must be banished
from Court for a while. Boots should be seen but not heard!

THE QUEEN AND THE LADIES.

Boots, indeed! Cold, cold!

THE KING.

There it goes again. Sounds like a kitten, or a little squealing pig!

[_The QUEEN, NURSE and LADIES protest violently._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

Warm—in the temperate zone!

THE KING.

I have it. It’s a mechanical toy. One of those dolls from Paris that say
“Papa, Mama,” when you pinch them!

[_ALL laugh at this._]

THE QUEEN.

Hot! Getting hot! My dear, suppose it were a doll, what should we wish
for?

THE KING.

I don’t know, I’m sure! Is it a doll?

THE QUEEN.

It most certainly is not!

THE KING.

Then what is the use of wishing anything, or of guessing what we should
wish for, if it were a doll!... Mayn’t I go hunting now?

THE QUEEN.

No! You darling stupid, I shall have to tell you! But let me begin at the
beginning.

THE KING.

[_With resignation._] As you please! Only that Bengalese tiger does so
hate to be kept waiting.! [_ALL sit._]

THE QUEEN.

This morning I went into the garden to watch the gardener set out the
rose bed, and while sitting there beside the fountain a great big frog
jumped out of the basin, and spoke to me. It is true that he splashed
me a wee bit, but he apologised so prettily I didn’t really mind! “Good
morning, fair Queen,” said he. “I know wherefore you are sad!”

THE KING.

Oh! But were you sad?

THE QUEEN.

No! But that’s what he said! “Cease weeping and dry your lovely eyes,” he
then went on!

THE KING.

But were you weeping, and did you dry your lovely eyes?

THE QUEEN.

No, I can’t say I was or did! However that’s what he said!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Explains._] Queens and princesses generally weep beside a fountain,
Sire! You’ll find it here in the “Book of Royal Etiquette”! [_He turns
over the leaves of a huge volume._] It is customary for them accidentally
to drop a precious ring into its green depths, and then to shed tears
over it!

THE KING.

I see! Go on, my love!

THE QUEEN.

The frog continued, “It is your birthday!” “Oh,” I replied, “I know that!
And I’m sure the dear King is going to surprise me with a beautiful
present!”

THE KING.

Of course! I was just on my way to inquire why it has not been sent!

THE QUEEN.

But it has been sent! It is here! That is the great news! That is what
the frog told me! “Go home,” said he, “and look in your work-basket, and
see what you will find all rolled up in the red and yellow comforter you
are knitting for a surprise for the King on his birthday!” And there
indeed I found it! And, oh, nothing else in all the world could have
given me one millionth part of the pleasure!

THE KING.

I thought you’d like it. Is it becoming? Does it fit?

THE QUEEN.

Eh?

THE KING.

I told them to send the very latest style, but you can have it changed if
it isn’t the right size!

THE QUEEN.

It is perfect in every respect, absolutely perfect! Eh, my Ladies?

THE LADIES.

[_Enthusiastically._] Yes, indeed, Your Majesty!

THE KING.

Good!... Whatever is that queer noise?

THE QUEEN.

Why, didn’t you know it could do that?

THE KING.

It sounded very different in the shop! But we can get the piano-tuner to
attend to it!

THE CHANCELLOR.

His Majesty is so full of humour!

THE QUEEN.

Come and have a peep at it!

[_THE NURSE approaches with her precious bundle, but the KING draws
back._]

THE KING.

Those little kinds are so snappish! Did they send the collar and the
chain?

THE QUEEN.

Now, my love, I know you are very absent-minded! Last year when I wanted
a diamond bracelet you got me a silver thimble, but when it comes to a
little daughter ... a sweet little baby daughter...!

THE KING.

Bless my soul ... a daughter! To be sure! I hope they packed her
carefully!

THE LADIES.

Her Royal Highness is perfect! Absolutely the loveliest baby that ever
was!

THE KING.

[_Looking at the baby which is now presented for his closer inspection._]
As babies go she really is ... well, she is a baby! My Lord High
Chancellor, what does one say to them?

THE CHANCELLOR.

I have been looking that up, Sire, and I find that “Diddums wasms” is
not unacceptable in the earlier stages of conversation with little Royal
Highnesses!

THE KING.

[_As if learning a lesson._] Diddums wasms! Wasms Diddums! I never shall
remember that!

THE CHANCELLOR.

How about simple Duckums, or Ooo-galloo-galloo?

THE KING.

[_Experiments with these._] That’s better. [_He turns again to the
group._] Now what shall we do to celebrate this joyful occasion? Suppose
I go a-hunting and bring in a pretty spotted leopard, a great, big, huggy
bear, or a gaudy tiger with orange stripes to play with the little one!

THE CHANCELLOR.

The usual thing, Sire, is to hold a feast ... a christening feast!

THE QUEEN.

Yes, my dear; our child must have a name! Now what shall it be?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Why not call the Princess after Your Majesties?

THE KING.

Too commonplace. I am King Johannes, Ivor, Ivan, Ian, Giovanni, Juan,
John! And the Queen is Marietta, Marina, Marequita, Marioletta,
Polyanthus Mary! No; we want something more distinguished! Now who has
something to suggest? Begin with A.

THE LADIES.

[_One after another._] Abel, Abraham, Apple-dumpling, Andalusia,
Artichoke.

THE KING.

Artichoke! That’s a good name for a baby!

THE CHANCELLOR.

That’s a boy’s name, Sire!

THE KING.

Why not Asparagus—Gussie for short?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Too kitchen-gardeny!

THE KING.

Well, let’s try B. Benjamin, Bohemia, Bank-account, Bootblack,
Baronet....

THE CHANCELLOR.

Too masculine!

THE KING.

Well, then, go on with C.

THE LADIES.

[_Suggesting in turn._] Calico, Caramel.... That’s a sweet one!
Crystal-gazer, Caraway-seed....

THE QUEEN.

My dear, why not name her after a flower?

THE KING.

Good! What flower begins with C? I have it: Cauliflower! Or Castor-Oil
bean! Columbine!

THE QUEEN.

No, no! Let us call her after the queen of flowers, rose! And as the
gardener was just setting out one when the frog accosted me, why not
Moss-Rose?

ALL.

Oh, yes; Moss-Rose! Princess Moss-Rose!

THE KING.

I like that! There’s something soft and tender about it! It moves me to
tears, or at least to a tear! That is, if the Lord High Chancellor has
no objection, and I can find my pocket-handkerchief!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Tears on the part of Your Majesty are quite appropriate! Let the Court
Chronicler note that the King shed tears!

THE KING.

A tear ... a single one! I insist that history shall not be falsified!

THE CHANCELLOR.

A single tear.... Really, Sire, it is never done! Try and screw out
another, I beg!

THE KING.

Oh, have it your own way, then! Tears! [_He wipes his eyes, and the COURT
CHRONICLER records the episode._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Considering._] Moss-Rose. And for extra names without which, of course,
no person of royal birth should be, the Princess can have the botanical
terms, Rosa Centifolia, Rosaceæ!

THE QUEEN.

I don’t think I want my baby called that!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Madam, no one would ever think of using these! But Royal Persons have to
own them!

THE QUEEN.

Oh, then, it is all right! Now we must choose godparents! For godmothers
I want all the wise women and good fairies in the kingdom! Because
instead of the usual commonplace sterling silver mug they will bestow on
our child blessings: virtues and talents!

THE KING.

A capital idea! Have we their names, my Lord High Chancellor?

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Referring to a volume._] The latest census gives the list: Fairy
Good-Looks, Fairy Good-Heart, Fairy Good-Temper, and Fairy Good-Manners!

THE KING AND QUEEN.

Excellent!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Then there are the Wise Women: Dame Honesty, Dame Diligence, Dame Order
and Dame Thrift. Then there’s Lady Generosity and Countess Courage!

THE QUEEN.

Oh, we must have them all, every one!

THE KING.

[_Agreeing._] Surely! Every blessed one!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Then there are those two old-fashioned gentlewomen whom everybody
respects, the Sisters Purity and Piety!

THE QUEEN.

Oh, these above all!

THE KING.

By all means! Let Heralds be sent forth north, south, east and west,
inviting them! What about the godfather?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Some neighbouring potentate. Some reigning monarch!

THE KING.

[_Demurring._] Um-m-m! They’re all so uneducated! They only talk
foreign languages. And I never can feel sociable with people through an
interpreter!

THE QUEEN.

My dear, I have a suggestion. I know you’ll think it odd, but why not
that dear, delightful frog who brought me the joyful news?

THE KING.

Hm! A frog for godfather. Is that ever done, my Lord High Chancellor?

THE CHANCELLOR.

I can’t at this moment recall an instance, Sire, but I’ll look it up!

[_He consults a volume._]

THE QUEEN.

He has charming manners. And he would not mind being splashed if he held
the baby at the font!

THE KING.

I wonder if it would be considered anarchistic by the populace?

THE CHANCELLOR.

You could bestow a title on him. Puss-In-Boots was knighted, I find!

THE KING.

I wonder how he would mix in with the rest of the company. For example,
however would he sit down to table?

THE QUEEN.

Why not have a large finger-bowl, or a sitz-bath, placed on a chair for
him?

THE CHANCELLOR.

A very happy suggestion on the part of Your Majesty! But....

THE QUEEN.

And what a figure he would make at the Court ball! I’m sure he can do the
latest dances beautifully!

THE KING.

I’ll take it under consideration. It is not a matter in which to act
hastily!... Whatever noise is that? Surely not another birthday present!

[_THE FROG is heard approaching with a measured ker-plunk._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Looking down the corridor._] Why, speak of a distinguished visitor, and
here he comes!

THE HERALD.

[_Blows a blast._]

THE BUTLER.

[_Announces._] The Honorable Mr. Frog of Frog-Pond!

[_THE FROG enters. He wears high rubber boots, and carries a storm-coat
over his arm._]

THE QUEEN.

My dear Mr. Frog, how kind this is!

THE FROG.

Not at all! How-do! How-do!

THE QUEEN.

[_Presenting._] The King. The Princess Royal. The Lord High Chancellor.
The Court.

THE FROG.

How-do! How-do! [_The BUTLER approaches him and discreetly tries to get
his storm-coat away from him, but he resists._] Let it alone!... I always
carry it with me when I’m likely to be asked to stay to lunch.... [_He
pauses and coughs slightly. All do the same. He continues._] Sometimes
the ladies next me complain of the damp!... These boots, too, they
protect me from dripping and slipping! Slipping and dripping!

THE QUEEN.

Most considerate! [_She sits and indicates a seat which the FROG takes.
ALL sit._] You come upon us in family conclave. We are trying to find a
godfather for the Princess! [_ALL cough meaningly._]

THE FROG.

My stars, what an extraordinary coincidence!

ALL.

[_Interested._] Eh? What’s that?

THE FROG.

Speaking of such things—Excuse me. [_He breaks off, and skipping toward
the entrance, croaks very loud. He is answered by two smaller croaks,
uttered by two small frogs, dressed like lackeys, who now enter, bearing
a huge silver mug. This our FROG presents to the KING and QUEEN, after a
suitable explanation._] This little token ... oh, a mere trifle, but, as
you observe, solid silver and richly chased ... I found it at the bottom
of a pond! It was probably dropped there by some prehistoric princess
when babies were larger than they are nowadays! I fancied it might come
in useful, so took the liberty...!

THE QUEEN.

How very, very kind!... My dear, isn’t it very, very kind?

THE KING.

Oh, very, very, very kind! Eh, my Lord High Chancellor?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Oh, very, very, very, very kind!

THE COURT.

Very, very, very, very, very kind!

THE KING.

It would make a lovely umbrella-stand!... I mean, of course, till the
baby is large enough to drink from it!

THE FROG.

So glad you’re pleased!... Well, as it’s near my lunch hour I must be
going!... Any time you’re near my pond just drop in!

THE QUEEN.

Oh, but you must stay! To lunch, and to the christening. We want you to
be baby’s godfather; eh, my love?

THE KING.

Of course we do! I was saying so when you came in!

THE FROG.

That’s very nice of you. I can sing to the little one, you know! [_Croaks
in imitation of an opera-singer._] I’m soloist in our glee-club, in the
pond!

THE QUEEN.

Delightful! And I’m sure you can dance with those springy legs of yours!

THE FROG.

Good gracious, yes! I can lift any lady clear off her feet, and throw her
plump into the fountain! [_He starts to dance, but the KING restrains
him._]

THE KING.

Later you shall give us an exhibition of your skill. But first you must
be knighted!... Is there a sword handy, my Lord?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Here, Sire! The carving-knife will serve! [_He gets the carving-knife
from the table and hands it to the KING._]

THE FROG.

[_Shrinking back._] The carving-knife! Now, really I.... My skin is very
sensitive, in spite of appearances!

THE KING.

Bless my soul, you needn’t be afraid! It was a wedding-present to myself
and the Queen! There never was the slightest edge to it!... Will you
kindly kneel as well as you can? [_THE FROG does so, and the KING gives
him a slap with the flat of the blade, saying:_] Rise up, Sir Amphibious
Batrachian of Pondmere, Baron Freshwater Warden of the Marshes, and Court
Croaker Extraordinary!

ALL.

Hurrah! Three cheers for Sir Amphibious Batrachian of Pondmere, Baron
Freshwater, Warden of the Marshes, and Court Croaker Extraordinary!

THE FROG.

Ha, ha! Pretty fine, eh, what? But to my intimates, as always, Frog,
plain Frog!

THE KING.

And now to lunch. The christening shall be held as soon as the godmothers
arrive.

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Who has been consulting one of his books._] Sire, there is one Wise
Woman we omitted!

THE KING.

Her name?

THE CHANCELLOR.

She has several aliases, so that she can always prove an alibi! Envy,
Hatred, Malice, and All-Uncharitableness! She is best known as Gossip, or
Busy-Body!

THE KING.

Has she ever been presented here at Court?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Not yet, Sire, though she has repeatedly sought to be. She has never
quite passed her examination on the Nine Points of Etiquette.

THE QUEEN.

It would make no difference if she had. I never would consent to receive
such a person! Besides, we haven’t spoons and forks enough!

THE CHANCELLOR.

But, Madam, unless we conciliate her I fear she may make some trouble for
the Princess!

THE QUEEN.

What, hurt my baby!

THE KING.

What, annoy my heiress-apparent!

THE FROG.

What, disturb my goddaughter!

THE COURT.

What, injure our Princess! [_ALL surround the NURSE and BABY
protectingly._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

Really, I do think it would be advisable to placate the person!

THE FROG.

[_Waving his hand so as to splash the CHANCELLOR while speaking._] Now,
my dear fellow, while I hate to throw cold water on your scheme, yet I
will not stand for such measures! Reptile as technically I am, there are
human toads I simply won’t associate with!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Oh, very well! [_He closes his huge volume with a bang._] And suppose the
old gossip comes uninvited to the feast, what then?

THE FROG.

Tell her to meet me beside the fountain by moonlight, and I’ll hold her
hand and give her the worst cold in her head she ever had, so that she
won’t be able to put two and two words together! Is it for nothing I am
Sir Amphibious Batrachian, etcetera, etcetera? [_He slaps his chest._]

THE QUEEN.

You dear! Oh, what a birthday! I’m so happy I could dance!

THE KING.

So could I!

THE FROG.

[_Prancing about._] Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry
bush, the mulberry bush!

THE COURT.

Do look out for the baby!

THE FROG.

Put H. R. H. in a safe place! Here, in the christening-mug! [_Assisted by
members of the COURT he lifts the NURSE with the BABY into the mug. THE
GARDENER at this moment enters with a huge bunch of moss-roses._]

ALL.

[_Clapping their hands._]

Oh, moss-roses, moss-roses, for the Princess Moss-Rose!

[_Seizing the bouquet THE FROG tosses it into the mug, and instantly long
festoons of the flowers stream out of this, as from a fountain. Laughing
delightedly, ALL seize these, as if they were the ribbons of a Maypole.
Outside, joy-bells ring and music sounds. THE BUTLER appears, beating on
a gong. The mug with the BABY seen above its brim is borne aloft, and the
gay procession passes on as the CURTAIN falls._]


THE SECOND EVENT

_THE SECOND EVENT takes place in the same hall. Everybody is now sixteen
years older, for it is the sixteenth anniversary of the birth of the
PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE. The christening mug stands in the centre of the floor
and in it grows a beautiful moss-rose bush. THE HUNTING SONG again is
heard, and when the CURTAIN rises we see the KING ready to start off on
his day’s sport. To him comes the QUEEN somewhat hurriedly._

THE QUEEN.

My dear, surely you’re not going hunting to-day!

THE KING.

I had some idea of doing so, my love! The lions are complaining terribly
that they don’t get enough exercise!

THE QUEEN.

But have you forgotten what day it is?

THE KING.

Surely not Sunday again! Now it isn’t sporty of Sunday to come round more
than once a week! It’s taking advantage of its exalted standing and the
respect we owe it!

THE QUEEN.

[_Laughing._] Will you never grow up? And our daughter sixteen years old
to-day!

THE KING.

Bless my soul, I had forgotten!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Enters singing happily._] Good-morning, father!

THE KING.

Good-morning, my darling!

MOSS-ROSE.

Aren’t you going to wish me many happy—

THE KING.

[_Interrupting._] Come, wish me many happy returns of the day!

MOSS-ROSE.

What, wish _you_ many happy returns of my birthday and mother’s?

THE KING.

Why not? Isn’t it always the happiest day of the year to me?

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Mischievously._] Thank you so much for your lovely present!

THE QUEEN.

Yes, indeed!

THE KING.

Eh? [_Puzzled._]

MOSS-ROSE.

We’ve been through your pockets, mother and I! And, oh, to think of
finding a fine new meerschaum pipe, and my favourite brand of tobacco!
[_She produces the articles._]

THE KING.

[_Slightly nettled and confused._] Now, really, Moss-Rose....

THE QUEEN.

And these six new neckties ... my favourite colours! [_She produces the
articles._]

THE KING.

[_Recovering poise._] The pipe was for my prize elephant. And the ties
were to be competed for in a scratch race—the spotted ones for the
leopards and the striped ones for the zebras!

THE QUEEN AND MOSS-ROSE.

[_Laughing._] You dear! [_They kiss the KING and thrust their booty into
his pockets._]

THE KING.

And now what’s the programme for the day’s festivities? A ball as usual
to-night, I suppose!

THE QUEEN.

[_Hastily._] No, not to-night! Not till to-morrow!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Pouting slightly._] Mother is so mysterious about it! Why should our
celebration be put off till to-morrow? Put-off things are never quite so
nice!

THE QUEEN.

It is only the dance that is postponed. You shall have your cake as
usual! See; here comes the cook with it now!

[_ENTER the COOK bearing triumphantly aloft a huge cake decorated with
candles, unlighted. He is followed respectfully by a KITCHEN-BOY carrying
a lighted taper._]

THE COOK.

With the compliments of the Cook to Her Royal Highness Princess
Moss-Rose! [_He sets the cake down on the table._] Now, Boy, do your
duty, but don’t drop wax all over the place!

MOSS-ROSE.

Thank-you, dear Cooky! Oh, what a beauty it is!

[_ENTER the LORD CHANCELLOR followed by the GARDENER who bears a
watering-pot. He is followed by a BOY who carries a small ladder._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

Good-morning to your Majesties, and to your Royal Highness!

KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.

Good-morning, my Lord High Chancellor!

THE CHANCELLOR.

My congratulations to Your Majesty [_to the QUEEN_] and to your Royal
Highness!

QUEEN AND PRINCESS.

We thank you, my Lord High Chancellor!

THE GARDENER.

My homage to Your Majesties and to Your Royal Highness!

KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.

We thank you kindly, Court Gardener!

[_THE BOY sets the ladder against the christening mug, and mounting this
the GARDENER waters the moss-rose bush in it. Instantly this shoots
up several feet in height, broadening increasingly. ALL exclaim with
admiration._]

THE GARDENER.

Ah, there’s nothing like it in the history of floriculture! And this the
wee slip of a plant I was setting out the day our little Princess was
born!

THE COOK.

[_Calling attention to the cake._] Sixteen, and one for luck!

THE GARDENER.

[_Approaching MOSS-ROSE with a bunch of the flowers that he has
plucked._] Sixteen, and one for luck!

MOSS-ROSE.

How good you all are to me!

[_THE GARDENER and THE COOK followed by their attendants, go._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

Sixteen!... We soon shall be having to find a suitable alliance for our
Princess!

THE KING.

Dear, dear, there you go again! I’ve been all over the map, and there’s
nobody, positively nobody, that will do! They are all so ignorant; they
only speak foreign languages! What do I want with a son-in-law who can
only laugh at my jokes through an interpreter?

THE CHANCELLOR.

None the less, Sire, we cannot have our Princess remain a sp... er ...
unmarried!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_With quick curiosity._] What is the word you were going to say,
beginning with s-p?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Ahem! Pardon, my dear; I was not going to say anything of the sort! There
is no word applicable to the situation beginning with s-p!

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, but there is; a word that has been blotted out of all the
dictionaries in my school-room!

THE KING.

[_Hastily._] By special Act of Parliament! Royal Prerogative, and all
that, you know!

MOSS-ROSE.

It is the same way with music; some kinds of songs are blotted out for
Princesses, it seems! There was the prettiest song I came upon. It
sounded buzz, buzz, buzz, like the turning of a wheel! But my teacher
said that I must never, never sing it! Now why not, I wonder!

[_THE OTHERS exchange anxious glances._]

THE QUEEN.

Everything shall be explained to you to-morrow! Go to your room now,
dear, and you will find there the linen chest we have been preparing for
your dowry, ready for the time Prince Charming comes to claim your hand!

THE GOVERNESS.

[_Entering with a fine table-cloth in her hand._] Madam, I brought a
table-cloth to show you the marking ... a moss-rose!

THE QUEEN.

[_Approving._] That is right! See, daughter! The finest linen ever sp...
manufactured!

MOSS-ROSE.

How is linen-thread sp-manufactured?

ALL.

[_Hastily._] It isn’t!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Persisting._] Linen is woven of thread; that I know. And thread is made
of flax, and flax grows in the garden; that I know! But how is flax made
into thread? No one ever will answer me that! And it has been blotted out
of the encyclopedia!

[_There is a slight pause._]

THE KING.

Come, come, child; trust your parents to-day, and to-morrow I’ll sp...
I’ll reel you a long yarn about it!

MOSS-ROSE.

There again! Everyone begins a word with s-p, and then stops short as if
they had bumped their heads or stubbed their toes against it!

[_ENTER THE FROG in a bathrobe under which it is seen that he wears a
bathing-suit._]

THE FROG.

Good-morning, friends! Congratulations to those to whom congratulations
are due, eh, what?

THE KING.

Morning, old man!

THE QUEEN.

[_At the same time._] Thank you, dear Sir Amphibious!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Good-morning, Sir Amphibious!

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, godfather, where are you going? Not to your pond again?

THE FROG.

Only for a dip, my dear! Truth is I’m feeling rather dry!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Can’t I ring for a glass of water for you?

THE FROG.

My dear fellow! Do give me credit for some command of proper language!
Even reptiles know that dry refers to the outside, while for the inner
man one says thirsty!

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, stay and play with me!

THE FROG.

When I’ve had my dip! Till I’ve had my dip I’m poor company; my head
positively sp— [_He stops short, then lamely finishes_] aches! Turns
round and round, you know!

MOSS-ROSE.

Isn’t there a word that means all that; turns round and round, you know!
Something beginning with s-p?

THE FROG.

Not in Court circles! [_There is a slight pause._] Let me go now, there’s
a love, and I’ll bring you something pretty from the bottom of the pond!

THE GOVERNESS.

Come, dear, and see your linen chest!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Going with the GOVERNESS._] Even my godfather, my pet Froggy, bites
his tongue off sooner than finish the mysterious word beginning with
s-p! [_She goes with the GOVERNESS. Those who remain look at one another
meaningly._]

THE KING.

I wonder if we hadn’t better have told the child all along!

THE FROG.

That was my advice, as you know!

THE QUEEN.

Perhaps it would have been wiser, but how can one inform a beloved child
of a threatened danger?

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Turning over the volumes._] Most perplexing! A situation absolutely
without precedent!

THE KING.

Well, after all, it is only getting through this day, and then we can all
breathe freely forever after! Suppose we summon the Court and arrange
what measures must be taken for the safety of the Princess! Eh, my Lord?

THE CHANCELLOR.

That seems quite lucid, Sire; in fact, almost sensible!... I mean, er....
[_He rings and the BUTLER appears immediately._] Summon the ladies and
gentlemen of the Court! [_THE BUTLER disappears. There is a bugle-call
outside._]

THE QUEEN.

It’s too ridiculous, but ever since I wakened this morning I have seemed
to hear a buzz-buzz-buzz, whir-r-r, humm-m-m, just as if there were a
sp—one of the things concealed in the room!

THE OTHERS.

So have I! [_The faint, very faint sound of a spinning-wheel is heard and
a soft voice crooning the SPIN-WHEEL SONG. ALL start._] There it is now!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Recovering himself._] Imagination! Why, there isn’t one in existence in
the kingdom!

[_THE LORDS and LADIES enter, and take ceremonial positions, bowing and
curtseying to their MAJESTIES. The KING and QUEEN sit, motioning all to
do likewise. ALL obey. THE KING then begins._]

THE KING.

My Lords and Ladies.... This, as you know, is the sixteenth anniversary
of the birth of our beloved daughter, the Princess Moss-Rose. For the
benefit of such of you as were not here when Heaven sent her to us we
will rehearse an incident that then took place. To her christening feast
as godmothers were bidden all the Good Fairies and Wise Women in our
kingdom—

THE FROG.

—to co-operate with me as godfather! I held the child at the font!

THE KING.

There were twelve of these ladies.

THE CHANCELLOR.

Thirteen, Sire!

THE KING.

True, but thirteen is an unlucky number! That is why I suppressed one!

THE QUEEN.

And the thirteenth wasn’t a nice person at all! Not at all! Besides we
had only a dozen extra spoons and forks!

THE KING.

But all the same, this Dame Envy-Hatred-Malice-and-All-Uncharitableness
got wind of the affair and came uninvited!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Oh, if you had only let me manage it!

THE KING.

Well—she came!

THE QUEEN.

She wasn’t at all nice! And I didn’t like the way she was dressed one
bit! Not one bit!

THE KING.

Our valued Sir Amphibious presented the mug—[_Indicates the mug._]
Sterling silver and richly chased!

THE FROG.

Aye, indeed! I chased it round and round the pond when it was first
dropped in, for at least three centuries!

THE KING.

The twelve godmothers bestowed good wishes on our child—

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Referring to a volume._] Entered over their own signatures in the
guest-book. The kindest wishes, though expressed in verse of an impromptu
and inferior cast!

THE KING.

But the uninvited and unwelcome one revenged herself by putting on our
child a curse! [_ALL echo, “A curse!”_] Read it, my Lord Chancellor!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Referring to volume._] That on the sixteenth anniversary of her birth
the Princess Moss-Rose should prick her finger with the spindle of a
spinning-wheel, and die of the wound. [_ALL, even those who are familiar
with the story, exclaim with horror._]

THE KING.

No wonder you shudder! No wonder tongue and pen alike recoil from
chronicling the incident! However, our dear Sir Amphibious exercised his
prerogative, in also making for our child a wish.

THE QUEEN.

So sweet of him when he had already given the mug!

THE FROG.

Oh, don’t mention it! What godfather under like circumstances would not
do the same? I could not unwish the old hag’s wish, but at least it was
within my humble powers to modify it!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Referring to the volume._] Sir Amphibious fortunately was able to cross
out the unpleasant word _die_ and substitute for it, _sleep for a term
not exceeding one hundred years_!

THE FROG.

That’s it! A mere bagatelle, one hundred years, when measured up with
eternity, eh, what!

THE KING.

But, even so, do we want the light of our eyes and sunshine of our lives
suspended for a century!

ALL.

[_With emphasis._] No!

THE QUEEN.

Even suppose that the King and I were to survive it, it would be most
awkward to introduce to society a débutante Princess of a hundred and
sixteen years of age!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Shaking his head mournfully._] The only suitable alliance would be
found in a Home for Aged Princes! It is true that some of the abdicated
ones are in an excellent state of preservation, but it isn’t the same
thing!

ALL.

Not at all the same thing!

THE KING.

To prevent these little contre-tempses, as the French call them, I
forthwith issued a proclamation—

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Referring to volume._] All spinning-wheels to be banished from the
kingdom—

THE QUEEN.

It has made the price of household linen dreadfully high, but what else
could we do?

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Continuing, from volume._] The word _spin_ with all its variants to be
blotted from dictionaries, dropped from conversation. To compose or sing
a spinning-wheel song a capital offence. All spinsters to choose between
death or matrimony!

THE QUEEN.

And all of the self-sacrificing dears chose matrimony! So loyal of them!

THE KING.

Now while we flatter ourselves that our Anti-spindle campaign has been an
unqualified success, yet there is this day with its fatal possibilities
to be safely passed through! The question before us is, how best to guard
the Princess from the one chance in a million-billion that a spindle yet
exists!

THE FROG.

Let her spend it with me at the bottom of the pond! [_ALL murmur
appreciatively._]

THE QUEEN.

How dear of you! But she isn’t used to the damp!

THE KING.

Besides, someone might have thrown a spinning-wheel, or just the spindle,
into it, you know!

ALL.

[_Considering._] That’s true!

THE CHANCELLOR.

So long as there’s no precedent to go by, suppose we ourselves adopt an
original measure. Suppose we take the Princess into our confidence so
that she can herself be on her guard! [_This gives rise to murmurs, some
approving, others dissenting._]

THE KING.

It’s rather radical, not to say subversive, to teach young people
anything that isn’t perfectly pleasant, but—isn’t it best to let them
find out for themselves that roses have thorns?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Hardly, Sire, considering the price of the prick!

THE FROG.

That’s what I have always said!

THE QUEEN.

Yes, but then you two haven’t the feelings of a mother! If you think
there are no pricks, why, then there are none!... Ouch! What was that?

THE KING.

Oh, nothing, my love! I only stuck a pin into your arm to test your
theory!

THE QUEEN.

But it isn’t a fair test unless you tell that you are going to do it, so
that I can make up my mind not to feel it!

THE KING.

I see! Well, but to come back to the question, who is to tell our child
of the peril in which she stands?

THE QUEEN.

Why, you, of course! You are head of the family!

THE KING.

Only when there’s something unpleasant to be done! When it’s a matter of
buying new head-gear, Paris hats, and all that, who is head of the family
then, I’d like to know!—However, I suppose I had better take the child
into the library, and say: “My child, I do not wish to alarm you, but—”
[_ALL murmur, protesting against this._] Oh, very well, then! Someone
else will have to do it!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Couldn’t it be led up to diplomatically, Sire? Use tact! As thus: “How
pretty you look to-day, my little daughter! Which reminds me; speaking
of the uncertainty of life—” [_Again ALL protest._] Oh, as you please! I
only threw out the suggestion!

THE FROG.

Why not be playful? Introduce death jocosely into the conversation! Begin
with dead letters and go on to the dead languages! Ask her how long a
dead-weight is! And if a dead-lock grows on a dead-head! [_Again ALL
protest strongly._] Oh, very well! Do it your own way!

THE KING.

Why can’t the child’s governess teach her all about it? It seems to me it
is a matter of education, entirely!

THE GOVERNESS.

Pardon, Sire. Questions concerning life and death were strictly barred
from the curriculum on which my diploma was obtained!

THE KING.

Well, something has to be done; that’s clear!

ALL.

Yes, that’s clear!

THE KING.

But what? And how? That’s the question!

ALL.

Yes, that’s the question!

THE QUEEN.

I have an idea! Let us all tell her, together, in concert! [_ALL
assent._] Let us all begin, “My dear little Moss-Rose—Our dear little
Moss-Rose—”

ALL.

[_Clap hands._] Oh, excellent!

THE KING.

Yes! Well, and then—?

THE QUEEN.

Yes; what then?

ALL.

Yes; what then?

THE NURSE.

Madam, if I may make so bold—

THE QUEEN.

Well, nurse? What have you to suggest?

THE NURSE.

The Princess has always been keen about fairy-stories! Why not tell it to
her, each contributing a bit, as if it were a fairy-story? Begin, Once
upon a time!

[_ALL exclaim, interested._]

THE QUEEN.

But, my dear soul; this is true! How can we pretend about it?

[_ALL agree to this view of the matter._]

THE NURSE.

Madam, it’s by pretending that truth is a fairy-story we make children
know it’s true!

THE QUEEN.

Nurse, you’re a darling, but so old-fashioned! Fairy-stories don’t happen
nowadays, do they, Sir Amphibious?

THE FROG.

My old grandmother, Mother Goose, believes in them! But then, she’s a
Mother Goose!

THE GARDENER.

Fairy-stories happen in the greenhouse, and miracles in the garden all
the time! I help ’em along! Why, look at that bonny moss-rose bush!
Sixteen years from to-day it was but a wee slip, as tiny in its way as
the Princess in hers!

THE KING.

But, my dear fellow, that’s only nature, and we are talking about life
and death, which are social functions, eh, my Lord High Chancellor?

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Corroborating this._] Social functions, Sire! Greatly copied by the
lower classes!

[_There is a pause._]

THE KING.

Well, what are we to do? [_MOSS-ROSE is heard, singing, approaching._]
Here comes the child now! Why didn’t we prepare for this long ago?

THE GARDENER.

Sixteen years ago, when I planted that wee slip!

THE KING.

Something has to be done! Nurse’s suggestion—it’s the simplest! We’ll
tell her her own story as if it were a fairy-story! Remember, all must
help! All must begin, Once upon a time! [_MOSS-ROSE enters, laden with
presents._] Ah, my dear child! Come here! We’re going to tell you
something—a fairy-story, eh, my Lords and Ladies?

ALL.

Yes, indeed! Once upon a time—

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, you darlings! But, wait! Wait till I have thanked you all for the
lovely presents you have given me! [_She lays them heaped on the
table._] They’re all of them just exactly what I wanted! Just as if they
came out of a fairy-book! So, now, then, for your story! [_She seats
herself on a step of the throne._]

THE KING AND QUEEN.

My dear little Moss-Rose—

ALL.

Our dear little Moss-Rose—

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, wait! My candles! [_She runs toward the cake._] Before they burn down
you must all blow them out together! But first each must make me a wish!
Now, wish, in silence, then when I count three, blow! Blow hard, all
together! Ready! One, two, three—Blow! [_ALL blow, and the candle-flames
are extinguished._] Good! Now I am going to have luck till my next
birthday! [_She returns to her place on the throne-step._] Now, then, for
the fairy-story! Once upon a time—

ALL.

Once upon a time—

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Starts up._] Wait! Hush! Oh, listen! Listen! [_ALL show alarm at her
manner._]

THE QUEEN.

Moss-Rose—my child—what is it!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_As if drawn slowly nearer the enchanted mug._] Oh, wonderful! So
soft—but always growing louder, coming nearer—like the turning of a
wheel! [_ALL exclaim, in alarm._] Oh, it sounds like—Oh, it is that
forbidden word beginning with s-p!

[_Again ALL cry out in wildest alarm. MOSS-ROSE, however, begins to
dance, and grow excited. Meanwhile the sound of the WHEEL is heard
whirring, and a faint voice croons the SPIN-WHEEL’S SONG._]

THE KING.

[_Trying to catch MOSS-ROSE._] My precious one, come to your father!

THE QUEEN.

[_Also trying to catch her._] My baby, come hide your head in mother’s
lap where you won’t hear it!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Eluding capture._] Oh, but I want to hear it! It is beautiful, but
terrible! Terrible, but beautiful! It is drawing me away from you all!
Oh, now I begin to understand! Strange voices are telling me the word you
all bump your heads and stub your poor toes against!—Consider the lilies
of the field, How they grow! That’s what the archbishop preached about.
They toil not, he said, neither do they sp— Then he broke off, just as
everybody does, as if a thread were snapped when anyone said something
beginning with s-p!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Your Royal Highness—my precious Princess—Listen! I’ll explain! Oh, listen
to your old friend!

MOSS-ROSE.

I’d like to please you, my dear Lord, but—buzz, whir—sp-p—

[_Everyone shrieks, preventing her saying the word._]

THE FROG.

[_Seizing her hand._] Come, my darling goddaughter—to the pond—the pond!

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, but my dear, dear Sir Amphibious, I can’t! Don’t you hear it calling
me? Buzz-whir—telling me it is the appointed day! [_Again ALL cry out._]

THE COOK.

[_Followed by his assistants rushes in, agitated, brandishing a
soup-ladle._] Oh, Sire, Madam—in the kitchen—the strangest noise—There it
is now! Buzz, whir, sp—

[_Again ALL cry out._]

MOSS-ROSE.

[_In an ecstasy._] Spin! That’s what it says! Spin-Spin-Spin!

[_ALL shriek with horror. Confusion prevails._]

THE KING.

[_In wildest alarm._] Hunt it! Kill it! Loose the dogs! Turn the hose
upon it!

ALL.

[_Rushing about wildly._] Hunt it! Kill it! Destroy the spinning-wheel!
Loose the dogs! Turn the hose on it! Banish it! Behead it! Death to the
spinning-wheel!

[_Brandishing whatever comes to hand as weapon ALL rush out in different
directions, seeking the enemy. Meanwhile the buzzing sound seems to
pervade the place, as if myriad spinning-wheels were at work. MOSS-ROSE,
who alone remains, dances in ecstasy. Rising from her christening mug
appear the THREE FATES, known to the ancients as ATROPOS, CLOTHO and
LACHESIS in their traditional attitudes. They are singing as they work._]

THE SPIN-WHEEL SONG

    Hear the merry spin-wheel’s song:
    Wake! Day’s begun!
    Thread comes short and thread comes long,
    Spin, spinning, spun!
    Baby wakes and crows with glee.
    Spin-wheel sings and so sings she:
          Mm-m-m! Spin-wheel sings M-m!

    See the King ride forth at noon,
    Heralds before.
    Life and death are in his boon,
    Sweet peace and war.
    Baby laughs and claps her hands;
    She knows what the King commands.
          Br-r-r! King commands Br!

    God’s own angels from aloft
    Down white moon’s beam
    Gently slide and whisper soft
    In baby’s dream.
    Baby smiles, as well she may,
    For she hears the angels say,
          Hush! Angels say Hush-sh!

[_During this MOSS-ROSE looks up and seeing the THREE WEIRD SISTERS
dances and claps her hands in an ecstasy of glee, joining in the chorus
of the song. At one point, noticing the spindle, she holds up her hands
for this entreatingly, on which the FATE holding it, lowers it to her
by its thread. MOSS-ROSE delightedly dances about, playing with it, its
thread still retained by the FATE. Suddenly the maiden pricks her finger,
and stops in her dance. She staggers slightly, as if dizzy, looks at her
finger, sucks this, and laughs, as if it were but a trifling matter.
Then she passes her hand over her brow, as if dazed, becomes more and
more sleepy, and finally falls on a couch at the foot of the mug in
enchanted slumber. THE KING, QUEEN and all the COURT return, breathless
with their quest. THE FATES disappear as they came, but the spindle with
its attaching thread remains in the young girl’s hand._]

THE KING.

Strange, it’s nowhere to be found!

THE QUEEN.

Nowhere! We must just have thought there was one!

THE CHANCELLOR.

High and low—nowhere!

THE FROG.

By land or water—nowhere!

ALL.

Nowhere!

THE KING.

It is all right, Moss-Rose! Where are you, child?

THE QUEEN.

She’s hiding, frightened! Moss-Rose! There’s nothing to be afraid of,
darling! Where can the child be?

ALL.

[_Searching._] Moss-Rose! Princess Moss-Rose!

THE KING.

Search the forest! Drag the pond!

THE COURT.

Aye, search the forest, drag the pond!

THE FROG.

You look to the forest; leave the pond to me! [_While about to run out he
sees MOSS-ROSE and utters a wild cry._] Ah-h!

ALL.

What is it? [_They run to the spot, and seeing her, also cry out._]

THE KING.

My child, my little daughter, my Moss-Rose!

THE QUEEN.

Moss-Rose! Oh, my baby!

THE KING.

But however did it happen?

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Lifting the spindle._] See! See! A spindle! [_ALL exclaim._]

THE KING.

But how, where, why.... Where did it come from?

THE CHANCELLOR.

Attached to a thread that reaches ... reaches.... [_Growing sleepy._]

THE FROG.

Clear to the centre of the earth ... and the waters under the earth!
[_Yawning._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Dropping the spindle._] No precedent.... I don’t recall any precedent!
[_Yawning, he staggers over to the statute books and tries to turn over
the leaves of these._]

THE KING.

[_Chafing a hand of the sleeping girl._] But, my child—surely she is not
dead? [_ALL echo, “Not dead?”_]

THE QUEEN.

[_Kissing MOSS-ROSE._] No, no! Only sleeping!

ALL.

Ah, only sleeping!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Term not exceeding one hundred years—[_Sleepily._] Kind courtesy of Sir
Amphid—Amphid—phib—phib—phib—ib—ib—

THE FROG.

Just a trifling matter of a century!

THE QUEEN.

So kind of him when already—given—mug! [_Sleepily._] Good-night, my
darling, for one hundred years! [_Again kisses MOSS-ROSE and staggers to
throne, falls on this, in sound slumber._]

THE KING.

[_Following the QUEEN’S example._] Good-night, daughter—good-night,
everybody—one hundred—

ALL.

Good-night—everybody—one hundred—[_Falling asleep._]

THE FROG.

You see, moral is, no escaping Fate! Fate! [_Yawns._] Oh, I am so dry!
Can’t you spray me? [_To the GARDENER._]

THE GARDENER.

[_To his assistants who hold garden hose and watering-pot._] Don’t you
hear? Let spray!

THE FROG.

Aye, let spray! Always spray before going to bed! ’specially one hundred
years!

[_Drops off to sleep._]

THE GARDENER.

[_Catching hold of a branch of the wonderful moss-rose bush._] It’s the
finest moss-rose bush in all the world!—Little slip—this size—sixteen
years—Just think!—One hundred years—whole forest—moss roses!

[_Drops off to sleep._]

THE COOK.

[_Waking slightly._] Left roast on spit—bread in oven—Slightly
overdone—one hundred years!

THE BUTLER.

[_Very drowsy, taking an alarm clock from his pocket, and trying to set
it._] Those lazy footmen—Set alarm—wake promptly—one hundred years!

THE GOVERNESS.

[_Almost asleep._] Have to go to work—learn new set of dates—important
events—one hundred years!

THE QUEEN.

[_Waking slightly._] How the fashions will have changed—one hundred
years!—New clothes—Shall have to order—entire new wardrobe! From
Paris—one hundred—new hats!

THE KING.

[_Slightly waking._] No, no! Same old styles—come back—into fashion
again—every hundred years! [_He settles himself comfortably, and is about
to doze again when some sound without arrests his attention._] Hark! Hark!

ALL.

[_Slightly roused._] Hark, hark, the lark!

THE KING.

Aye, the lark, and the hawk; bird of song and bird of prey alike; the
lion and the lamb—all, all falling fast asleep! Hear old lion snore!
Sleep one hundred years! [_He drops into slumber again._]

THE FROG.

Oh, I am so dry! I am so dry!

ALL.

Do keep still—not wake—everybody—one hundred—

THE FROG.

But I am so dry! [_A GARDENER’S BOY sprays him._] That’s better! Oh,
I was so dry! I was so dry! [_Again ALL murmur._] All very well for
landlubbers, but first time—I ever went without bath—one hundred years!

[_There is a slight somnolent pause, then softly, faintly the whir of
the wheels of FATE and the SPIN-WHEEL SONG rise from the enchanted mug;
meanwhile roses bubble over its sides, their long trailing sprays falling
like a veil over the sleeping PRINCESS._]

THE GARDENER.

[_Catching a handful of sprays, crosses the hall, these lengthening in
his progress, as if by miraculous growth from their root in the enchanted
mug._] Little slip—whole forest—one hundred years! [_Still holding the
ends of the trailing sprays he falls down, asleep._]

THE KING AND QUEEN.

[_In their sleep._] Good-night, Moss-Rose! Good-night, everybody, one
hundred years!

ALL.

[_In their sleep._] Good-night—everybody—one hundred years!

[_The CURTAINS now shut out the scene from our view, but if by any chance
these are lifted again we see roses, always moss-roses, fountaining from
the mug over the assemblage in their enchanted sleep._]


THE THIRD EVENT

[_The CURTAINS lifted, now disclose the same scene, but with the
GARDENER’S prophecy evidently fulfilled, for we seem to be on the
outskirts of a dense forest of moss-roses. As we gaze on this, wondering
what ever will come of it, we hear two voices, one which might properly
belong, and proves so to do, to a charming YOUNG PRINCE, while the other
is that of his TUTOR._]

THE PRINCE.

This way! What ho, Mentor! This way! [_He blows a blast on his horn._]

MENTOR.

What ho! Oh, I’m nearly smothered! And I’m almost pricked to death!
Where, in the name of forestry, are you?

THE PRINCE.

Here! This way!... To the right! So! Here we are!

[_They come from opposite directions, and meet on the outskirts of
the thicket confronting us, and we now see that PRINCE CHARMING fully
justifies his name, while MENTOR is no doubt a tutor with excellent
references. Each carries or drags a number of trophies in the way of arms
and legs and other portions of the anatomy, or some piece of the outfit,
of other PRINCES. They pause to rest._]

MENTOR.

What a wild-goose chase! And so far, not even the ghost of a wild-goose!
Only this human bric-a-brac! [_Throws down his burden._]

THE PRINCE.

Still, as an antiquarian, you ought not to grumble! [_Throwing down his
burden, also. Both sit._] Did you ever see such a collection?

MENTOR.

[_Picking up specimens._] Leg of the time of your great grandfather!
Right arm dating, let me see, fifty years back! Torso ninety-nine years
old!

THE PRINCE.

And we can’t construct one symmetrical skeleton out of them! None of
the rights match the lefts! Whatever shall we do with them? As trophies
they are interesting, yet one wouldn’t want them on the walls of the
dining-room!

MENTOR.

As soon as you ascend the throne you must build a new wing to the Royal
Museum for them. Ouch! Another thorn in my foot!

THE PRINCE.

Oh, I’m getting used to thorns! As for these fellows, look at them!
Everyone of them a human pin-cushion! Well, they certainly made a valiant
battle for the rose!

MENTOR.

The rose, the rose, always the rose! Haven’t you got that old tale out of
your mind yet?

THE PRINCE.

How can I, when I was brought up on it? It is true, nurses in long
succession were dismissed for attempting to tell me fairy-tales, but
these things will out! There was a jackdaw who used to sit on the barn
door and talk to himself about it, hour after hour. Then in the pond were
two venerable frogs who told me that in their tadpole youth they had been
to the palace itself to carry a mug as christening present for the Rose!

MENTOR.

Fudge! Have you any sandwiches left?

[_The PRINCE offers him the lunch-box that he carries, also a flask, then
proceeds with his discourse._]

THE PRINCE.

Also there was a robin whose grandmother had escaped from the forest just
before the slumber-spell fell on it!

MENTOR.

[_With his mouth full._] Fudge! Stuff and nonsense!

THE PRINCE.

And in my nursery there is a tiger-skin rug, you remember! Well, one day
it whispered to me—

MENTOR.

Gammon and spinach! I beg your pardon, my dear Prince, but really,
when you talk this way—Why, the thesis on which I took my doctor’s
degree is a refutation of the tissue of lies—very poetic ones, I
grant you—which form the myth of the Sleeping Beauty! [_He takes a
drink._] There’s a presentation copy in the Royal library! The trouble
is that the poetic myth is a best seller, while the leaves of the
presentation-copy-refutation remain uncut!

THE PRINCE.

But, my dear Mentor, how do you account for the disappearance of King
Johannes Johann Ivor Ivan Ian Giovanni Juan Jean John? The sudden
mysterious disappearance with all his court that caused my royal
ancestors to annex the kingdom to their own! It’s an historical fact, you
know!

MENTOR.

Oh, probably good King Jack got into some slight trouble—violated the
game laws, or something, so abdicated and went quietly abroad, leaving
the Court Chronicler to invent some pretty tale to hush up the scandal!

THE PRINCE.

But this forest that we have hewed and hacked our way through—How do you
account for it that every living thing in it, bird and beast, is fast,
fast asleep?

MENTOR.

The sleeping sickness is nothing new! Everyone, from Adam down, who has
had to sit through after-dinner oratory has felt a touch of it! It is
only the orators who are immune!

THE PRINCE.

And this forest—this marvellous forest of moss-roses?

MENTOR.

Just moss-roses! The soil in this region happens to be peculiarly
favourable to their growth!

THE PRINCE.

And the Princess herself, the heart and soul and living embodiment of a
moss-rose?

MENTOR.

My dear lad, all youths of the princely temperament are like you!
All want to turn the cold hard facts of science into romance, with a
beautiful maid at the root of a beautiful mystery! To let you into a
family confidence, it originated with my great-aunt! Oh, she was not
beautiful; she was practical and punctual, like me! In order to be always
in the right and put her husband always in the wrong she used to turn the
hands of the clock to whatever hour she thought would be for his best
good! It was one of those large, old-fashioned clocks, you know! And
one night, while inside the case, she got caught in the works, and for
eight days went up and down, clinging to the weights, ticking off the
seconds, striking the hours, before she was rescued by the little Swiss
man who came periodically to wind and regulate the household time-pieces!
My great-uncle-by-marriage, though at the time distracted with anxiety,
has since been heard to say that those were the happiest because the
most unpunctual hours of his life! Since which time it has passed into a
proverb when anything is wrong with the works of anything to look for a
woman in the case!

THE PRINCE.

What you say no doubt is true, and yet—

MENTOR.

And yet, like all young fools you won’t believe me till you yourself have
proved it! In spite of all these warnings, in the shape of fragments
of Kings’ Sons who have lost their lives in the attempt! If these poor
witnesses could speak, which, think you, would say, go forward, Prince
Charming? Persevere unto the end!

THE PRINCE.

Which, think, you, would say, Turn back, Prince Charming! Give it up!

MENTOR.

All! Every mother’s son of them!

THE PRINCE.

Not one! Not one protoplasmic atomy of one!

[_At this challenge the FRAGMENTS OF KINGS’ SONS become endowed with the
powers of life. The HANDS applaud, clap the PRINCE on the back, or shake
hands with him, the LEGS dance, and indeed the ruder of these buffet
MENTOR, one going so far as to kick his hat off. The TORSO inclines
itself approvingly, the HEADS bow, and many VOICES cry “Go forward,
Prince Charming! Persevere to the end!”_]

THE PRINCE.

You hear? [_To MENTOR._] I thank you, comrades, or fragments of comrades;
I thank you with all my heart!

MENTOR.

More fools they!... You see that while we have found countless hearts we
have not come upon one single set of brains! Now, now! [_Evading some of
the FRAGMENTS who seem disposed to resent this._] Since you are in pieces
can’t you rest in peace?

THE PRINCE.

Forward, that’s the word! With the Heart for my device, let my motto be:
Forward, to success, or death in the attempt!

[_He hacks away at the hedge, on which all the FRAGMENTS aid him._]

MENTOR.

Since you are determined to go on, why not try skill instead of strength!
See how all these branches seem to radiate from a common centre,
somewhere not far away, as if they had fountained, tent-wise, over a
clear space!... What’s that noise?

THE PRINCE.

People approaching! Who can it be?

[_We now hear a swish-swash approaching from the outer forest, also the
sound of an old man’s stick. Pausing, the PRINCE and MENTOR turn, and see
two elderly FROGS. These halt, and salute._]

FIRST FROG.

Pardon. Prince Charming, I believe!

SECOND FROG.

We believe!

THE PRINCE.

[_Salutes._] At your service, gentlemen!—Why, you are my two old friends
from the Frog-pond!

THE FROGS.

[_Gratified._] The same. The same!

FIRST FROG.

It’s a long time since Your Highness has made mud pies and listened to
our tales!

THE PRINCE.

But never have I forgotten these! The proof is, I am here, following
the prickly quest for the Sleeping Beauty in the enchanted forest of
moss-roses!

FIRST FROG.

All Kings’ Sons to whom the tale is told sooner or later follow the same
quest!

THE PRINCE.

And fall beside the way! [_Sighs, on which all the HEARTS sigh also._]

SECOND FROG.

True! Failures, but glorious! They fell because they were in advance of
their time! But you—

THE PRINCE.

I?

SECOND FROG.

You will succeed, because you are the Man of the Hour!

THE PRINCE.

[_Bows._] I thank you much for telling me this!

FIRST FROG.

Don’t mention it! We have followed you, every step of the way, rather
slowly, because of my brother’s rheumatism—

SECOND FROG.

I always get rheumatism unless I have wet feet! To sit in a puddle on a
chilly evening, that’s the only way to keep well!

FIRST FROG.

At any rate we got ahead of the jackdaw and the robin. Flighty things,
they stopped to wake up everybody and have a bit of worm with every old
acquaintance on the way!—There they are now! Flighty things! [_He shakes
his stick at two birds whom we hear chattering and whistling in a nearby
thicket._]

THE PRINCE.

My old friends! [_He waves his hand, whistling to the BIRDS who respond
in kind._] But, come! To work!

FIRST FROG.

Sir, we ask the privilege of following the adventure with you! In our
tadpole days, aye, even as pollywogs, we were devoted to the Frog who was
the oldest and most respected inhabitant of our pond. When he was chosen
godfather to the Princess it was we who carried the christening mug to
the palace. We were present when he was knighted, and baroneted! And now,
if he has dried up we wish to bestow on him a watery grave and dig a
mud-hole to his memory. [_He weeps._]

SECOND FROG.

That’s it; a mud-hole to the memory of Sir Amphibious! [_Weeps._]

THE PRINCE.

Gentlemen, your sentiments do you credit, and believe me, if there is
anything I can do in the way of restoratives ... casting a wet blanket,
or the like—! Why, what’s this? [_Stepping aside, he stoops to examine
something against which his foot had brushed._]

ALL.

[_Excited._] What is it?

THE PRINCE.

The hand of a man—not dead, but warm with sleep!

MENTOR.

[_Excited, stoops to examine._] A man wearing the badge of Court
Gardener, of the time of King Johannes Giovanni John!

[_Releasing the spray from the GARDENER’S hand the PRINCE raises this,
whereupon it snaps back toward the still invisible mug. ALL exclaim,
and set to work vigorously, assisted by the FRAGMENTS, and soon all the
sprays are drawn aside, curtain-wise, or pulled back by unseen forces
toward the mug. At last the scene is revealed, of the COURT asleep,
PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE in the centre, on her couch, against the mug. ALL
exclaim, and do homage._]

THE PRINCE.

At last, at last!

THE HEAD FRAGMENTS.

At last!

[_THE HEARTS sigh._]

THE PRINCE.

Poor dears, to think that I should succeed where such good men and true
have failed!

FIRST FROG.

Ah, to be the Man of the Hour—that’s success! If only one knows enough to
realise it!

SECOND FROG.

And there, there, is our own dear Sir Amphibious! Not changed one bit!

MENTOR.

Well, it’s all very well to talk of success, but after all you have only
come upon a bit of still-life, a canvas by an old master, as it were! And
the chances are it would crumble to dust if you were to transfer it to
the Royal Museum!

THE PRINCE.

But they’re only asleep!

THE FROGS.

That’s all!

MENTOR.

What’s the difference, if you can’t wake them?

THE PRINCE.

But I must! I must!... Eh, my friends?

VOICES.

[_From invisible sources._] You must!

THE PRINCE.

[_Gazing on MOSS-ROSE from afar._] And yet, so beautiful, how dare I?

THE VOICES.

You must!

THE PRINCE.

[_To MENTOR._] You hear? They say I must!

MENTOR.

Who say so? Simply the echoes of your sophomoric fancy!

THE VOICES.

Fiddlestrings!

MENTOR.

Eh? I beg your pardon?

THE VOICES.

Fudge! Gammon and spinach!

MENTOR.

[_Piqued._] Oh, very well! Only I don’t see the good of getting a degree
if I’m not allowed to know anything about anything!

A SINGLE VOICE.

Go forward! Take your fate into your own hands!

THE PRINCE.

Who gave me that counsel? You, my jackdaw? You, friend robin?

FIRST FROG.

Oh, that’s Destiny! Destiny always is in at the death!

THE PRINCE.

The death?

FIRST FROG.

Or the other ending!

MENTOR.

Well, if they have to be wakened let’s go to work and waken them! Here,
I’ll begin with the governess! [_He approaches the GOVERNESS._] Miss! I
regret to disturb you, Miss, but do you happen to know the date? Where
was the first nail knocked, eh? How many scruples make a conscience? Bah!
Things that I could answer in my sleep!

THE FROGS.

[_Stroking SIR AMPHIBIOUS._] Dry as a bone, poor dear! Lucky we brought a
wet sponge with us! [_After repeated efforts to arouse their friend, they
desist in despair._] Dear, dear, if we could only get him down to the
_marshes_!

THE PRINCE.

What can I do? [_He appeals to the HEARTS who sigh in response. He
listens to them more closely._] What’s that? You want to sing! [_He sets
them in the window where they give the notes of the scale, like an Æolian
harp._] Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si—and the scale is closed by the echo
in my own heart! What is it you sing,

    King’s son, King’s son,
    Nothing ventured, nothing won!
    Forward! Forward! To your bliss!
    Wake your Princess with your kiss!

[_At this the PRINCE throws up his arm in an ecstasy of understanding,
then reverently approaches the sleeping MOSS-ROSE, and, stooping, kisses
her. The HEARTS sigh in musical sympathy not unmixed with personal
regret. MOSS-ROSE stirs slightly, then, by degrees wakens fully.
Meanwhile the PRINCE stands aside. ALL waken._]

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, mother, father, I had such a dream! I dreamed that I was asleep!

THE KING.

Oh, my child, impossible! Though I believe I’ve had forty winks myself!
What were we saying, love?

THE QUEEN.

About our daughter’s future. You know it’s time we thought of a suitable,
ahem!

THE CHANCELLOR.

A suitable alliance, madam! I was just running over the list of
marriageable princes!

THE GARDENER.

[_Waking._] Eh, a bonny bush from a wee slip!

THE FROG.

Oh, I am so dry! Eh? Who’s this? And this? [_Seeing the other FROGS._]

MOSS-ROSE.

I dreamed I had been asleep one hundred years—We all had been asleep one
hundred years! I wonder if it could be true!

THE GOVERNESS.

But, my dear, such things don’t happen!

MENTOR.

Yes, they do! And you’re a living illustration!

THE GOVERNESS.

[_Surprised._] I beg your pardon! Whoever you are, if you had a diploma
you would know better!

MENTOR.

If you had a degree you’d know better, so there!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Half rising from her couch._] Haven’t we all been asleep one hundred
years?

THE QUEEN.

What can the child mean?

THE CHANCELLOR.

There’s no precedent for it, Your Royal Highness! And yet—[_Yawns and
rubs eyes._]

MOSS-ROSE.

There was a word that everyone was afraid to say to me!

ALL.

[_Beginning to remember._] Oh, yes!

MOSS-ROSE.

Beginning with s-p!

ALL.

Oh, hush!

MOSS-ROSE.

Oh, but one mustn’t be afraid of anything!... What’s this? [_Noticing the
spindle in her hand. ALL look, interested._]

MENTOR.

[_Advances, examines it._] Spindle belonging to a spinning-wheel of a
century ago!

ALL.

[_Exclaim, remembering._] Oh!

MOSS-ROSE.

That’s the word! Spin! Oh, it won’t ever hurt me any more!

[_As she speaks the spindle is drawn by its thread back into the mug._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Remembering._] To be sure. Sentence commuted—kindness of Sir
Amphibious—sleep for one hundred years!

ALL.

[_Remembering._] To be sure!

THE FROG.

[_Waking fully._] Oh, I am so dry! Eh, what? Why, here are my two
tadpoles! Quite grown up, eh, lads!

MOSS-ROSE.

[_Rising._] And here’s my birthday cake, uncut! But now I’m one hundred
and sixteen years old! But my dream—A great many Kings’ Sons tried to
hack their way through the moss-rose forest! [_The HEARTS sigh loud, the
FRAGMENTS salute, and do homage, as best they can._] See! See! There they
all are, what’s left of them! But one—Prince Charming was his name! Ah,
me! [_She turns away, and so comes face to face with the PRINCE who now
steps forward._] Ah! You—are you real, or my dream?

THE PRINCE.

By my faith, lady, I do not know! It is all as I myself have hoped and
dreamed, only more beautiful!

THE KING.

[_Grasping the situation._] What’s this? What’s this? A son-in-law who
can laugh at my jokes in my own language! If it’s a dream, why, I trust
no one will dare to wake me up!

THE QUEEN.

Heaven bless ye, my children! Prince, do tell me what the latest fashions
are!

THE COOK.

[_Waking with a start._] That roast is done to a turn!

THE BUTLER.

[_His alarm-clock going off, wakes._] Shut up! I’m not asleep! Your
Majesties, dinner is served!

THE KING.

Come! No formality! Really after such a hearty nap I must stretch my legs
a bit! [_Giving the QUEEN his hand he dances round the hall and to the
dining-room. MENTOR takes the GOVERNESS for partner; ALL choose partners,
THE PRINCE and MOSS-ROSE of course together. In the middle of the dance
MOSS-ROSE stops short._]

MOSS-ROSE.

Hush! Listen!

ALL.

What is it?

MOSS-ROSE.

The Spin-Wheel song! Hark, the merry Spin-Wheel’s song!

    Wake! Day’s begun!

ALL.

[_Joining in gleefully._]

    Thread comes short and thread comes long,
    Spin, spinning, spun!

[_As they dance out, singing, the CURTAIN of MOSS-ROSES falls over them
again, closing the THIRD EVENT in the life of the PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE, and
leaving us in the pleasant certainty that she and her PRINCE CHARMING
lived happily forever after. May you who have peeped through the veil
with me do the same!_]




THE TESTING OF SIR GAWAYNE

_All Hallowe’en_




THE TESTING OF SIR GAWAYNE

_All Hallowe’en_


_What follows takes place at King Arthur’s Court in merry Carlisle,
on the Eve of All-Hallowmass when strange things happen ... when the
wicked crafts of sorcery work havoc with knightly adventure, and when
enchantments bring about marvelous endings in affairs of love. We
find ourselves looking backward through the years upon a scene that
renews itself before our eyes in the castle hall. On one side is the
banqueting-hall, and this way the servants pass to the kitchen [kitching
we shall hear it called by Sir Kay, the steward or Seneschal.] On the
other side the members of the Court pass to their sleeping-chambers or to
the massive door that opens to the outer world. A window gives, first,
the light of late afternoon in autumn, then moonlight, and finally a
bright dawn. A fire on the great hearth affords a cheerful glow. When it
is necessary to light the hall servants will set torches in their sockets
against the wall. The walls are adorned with trophies of the chase, and
with the arms of knight-errantry. A table, settees, a few plain chairs,
and throne-chairs for the King and Queen suffice for furnishing. We shall
now and then be taxed in our memory of French and Latin to understand
some of the expressions we shall hear ... as, for instance, when someone
bidding others leave the room cries, “Avoid! Avoid!” or when the word
“quest” is used at one time as we should say “question,” and at another
for “adventure.” We shall observe, too, that forms we have been taught
to consider common or ungrammatical, obtained then in polite language,
such as “afore” where we now say “before,” or the double negative,
“not never.” This is something that should make us hesitate before we
criticise the speech of simple people, country-folk, and ask ourselves
if their homely phrase is not after all but a survival of the elegance
of days gone by. It will interest us furthermore to note how in these
days of chivalry when religion, love, and deeds of arms are the topics
of the chronicler how freely, though not lightly, the names of Holy
Persons are invoked in conversation. The CHARACTERS whom we shall see
enact the little drama are KING ARTHUR and his lovely QUEEN GUINEVERE,
several KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE, including SIR KAY, the gruff steward
or Seneschal, SIR BORS, SIR BLEOBERIS, SIR MELIOGRANCE, and SIR GAWAYNE
about whom the story concerns itself. Then there is the KNIGHT the rescue
of whom nearly cost ARTHUR his realm, his life, and his queen. Also
there is the LITTLE PAGE who for his precocious valour was dubbed knight
and thereafter known as SIR GRIFLET, and there is the OUTRAGEOUS GIANT
who was but the gallant KNIGHT DÉLIVERÉ under a spell of enchantment.
Among the ladies we find DAME LAUREL, and the DAMOSEL who rode in such
breathless haste to ARTHUR’S court, seeking aid for her captive KNIGHT.
And, most important is the DÉLIVERANCE LA BELLE PILGRIM who was mocked at
for being “a loathly lady.” And of course there are PAGES and SERVANTS
and GENTLEMEN and WOMEN in waiting and SQUIRES and all the royal rest._

_The QUEEN is seated at her embroidery-frame, some of her LADIES
similarly occupied about her. The DAMOSEL sits near trying to fix her
thoughts upon a scroll that she however does not read. Some of the
KNIGHTS are occupying themselves peacefully in divers ways, two playing a
game of chess. Someone sings to the harp. Meanwhile the LITTLE PAGE keeps
watch at the window._

GUINEVERE.

Are there no signs yet of my lord that he doth return?

THE PAGE.

Not yet, madam!

GUINEVERE.

Alas! Evensong time is overpassed, and my lord comes not!

THE DAMOSEL.

Now is my heart more heavier than ever it was before for the sorrow I
have brought upon the gentlest and fairest lady of the world!

GUINEVERE.

Ah, you do well to let fall down your head for shame, for we had never
been in this sorry pass if you had never come hitherward, praying King
Arthur for succour for your knight!

THE DAMOSEL.

Ah, Madam, I pray you of mercy to mis-say me no more, for my heart is
like to brast with its own woe!

SIR KAY.

Madam, you are greatly to blame so to rebuke the damosel, for, wit ye
well, of his own will my Lord King Arthur did seek and take him upon that
hard adventure he is gone upon!

GUINEVERE.

So God me help, it is all the greater shame to all you noble knights
that your fellowship should suffer your king to take such an adventure
upon him to his destruction! [_THE KNIGHTS exclaim, crying, “Gramercy,
Madam! Now by my head, etc.” But much wrought up, the QUEEN continues._]
Ah, now, I see well that all coward knights be not dead, sith you, Sir
Bors, and you, Sir Bleoberis, sit playing at the chess, the while my dear
Lord, your King, may be mishandled and smitten down, horse and man, or
villainously wounded, or, peradventure, slain!

[_THE TWO KNIGHTS thus addressed start up, angrily._]

SIR BLEOBERIS.

Gramercy, Madam! It passeth bounds that you should put the suspection of
cowardice on me, and there is no knight under heaven that dare make it
good on me!

SIR BORS.

Madam, you are a woman, and may not fight, but let now some worshipful
knight of our fellowship take on himself your quarrel, and call me
coward, and here is my glove to prove the contrary with my hands upon his
body! [_Throws down his glove._]

SIR MELIOGRANCE.

Then here am I known to all men as Sir Meliogrance, and I will take on me
my lady the Queen’s quarrel, and I will joust with you, Sir Bleoberis,
and you, Sir Bors, proving you recreant knights with my hands upon your
bodies! [_He throws down his glove._]

THE DAMOSEL.

[_Moans._] Now am I right heavy for the sorrow I have brought upon King
Arthur’s Court!

A LITTLE PAGE.

[_Runs forward, challengingly._] Now though hardly of years to bear a
shield, yet if some worshipful knight of this fellowship will dub me his
knight, then will I too take on me the Queen’s quarrel, jousting with the
knights of these worshipful knights’ following, for leaver would I be
cut into an hundred pieces than that my dear Lady should be gainsayed!
[_The closing words, spoken almost with sobs._]

SOME OF THE LADIES.

Oh, spoken like a sweet and noble child!

[_Many of the KNIGHTS laugh._]

SIR BORS.

[_Affecting to shudder._] Boo-oo! My gentlemen had best look well to
their arms, now that a raging lion is come among us!

[_A FELLOW-PAGE giggles tauntingly at our hero who turns on him._]

THE LITTLE PAGE.

I am of gentle blood, and but for lack of beard, as well entitled to
bear arms as any of this worshipful fellowship, and if anyone is so
venturesome that he would say the contrary I will make it good with my
body upon his body, with these two hands tearing him limb from limb!
[_The GIGGLING PAGE retreats, affrighted._]

SIR BLEOBERIS.

[_With impatience._] Is this a pages’ affair or a quarrel among knights
of worship and renown?

GUINEVERE.

[_With emotion._] Peace, my good Griflet! And you, gentlemen, forbear! I
spake over hastily!

SIR KAY.

Peace, daffish knights! Pick up your gloves! See ye not that the Queen
is distraught and clean out of her wits with anxiousness for the safety
of the King?... Madam, you do ill to begrudge King Arthur his lone
questings, sith all men of high courage find it merry to serve under a
chieftain that will put his person in adventure as other poor knights do!
[_To this there is a general murmur of assent._] And now, as the tables
have been spread this long while, for the third time of asking, will it
pleasure you to sit down to supper?

[_Another general murmur shows that this suggestion meets with favour._]

GUINEVERE.

Let those eat and drink who can! My heart is too heavy, but go you all,
my lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen! Sit you down to meat and
enjoy the feast! Later will I sup privily with my lord on his return!...
As for you, worshipful knights, let me who provoked the quarrel between
you heal it without the letting of good blood!

[_Before the would-be combatants can prevent her she herself picks up
and restores their thrown-down gloves. All do her fitting obeisance, and
pass into the banqueting-hall with the exception of the DAMOSEL and the
LITTLE PAGE._]

SIR BLEOBERIS.

[_As they go out, to SIR BORS._] Gramercy, but a good game was spoiled! I
had you mated in three moves!

SIR BORS.

Not so! I had your queen in forfeit!

SIR BLEOBERIS.

Ah, the Queen, the Queen! ’Tis ever the Queen that will make or mar the
fortunes of the King!

[_From the banqueting-hall one hears the sounds of merry-making
subdued, and the strains of minstrelsy, as an heroic lay is sung to the
accompaniment of the harp._]

GUINEVERE.

Now let saddle horses, and guided by you, good damosel, I will follow
after my lord!... Hark! I hear an horn!... Arthur!

[_The winding notes of the horn are heard._]

THE LITTLE PAGE.

[_At the window._] Nay, Madam! It is but Sir Gawayne who returns from
hunting!

GUINEVERE.

Sir Gawayne! Let send for him! [_THE PAGE hastens out._] It may be he
brings tidings of my Lord!

[_THE PAGE returns, attending on SIR GAWAYNE._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Kneeling to kiss the hand of the QUEEN._] Fair Queen and dear Aunt
Guinevere! But wherefore do I find you in such heavy cheer with the tears
upon your cheeks?

GUINEVERE.

Ah, Gawayne! Your dear Uncle, my good Lord, the King.... But sit we down
and ye shall hear! [_They sit._] It was yestreen at the undern hour that
we sat here, listening to minstrelsy! All of a sudden the King cried out,
“Now by the Holy Rood the third day hence will be All-Hallowmass! Now by
the faith of my body and on my head as anointed king will I not set me
down to meat on All-Hallowmass until I shall have taken on me and brought
to a good end some high quest that shall bring to me and my goodly
fellowship great worship and renown!” Hardly had he so spoken when riding
into the hall came this damosel who thereon alighted from her palfrey and
threw herself flatling at my good lord’s feet and lay there grovelling
and praying him for succour for her knight!

DAMOSEL.

[_Weeping._] Alas that ever I came!

GUINEVERE.

Fie upon you for weeping when tears are all no boot! Relate your errand
to Sir Gawayne!

THE DAMOSEL.

It fortuned in this wise: my troth was plighted that I should be wedded
to a passing fair gentleman and knight of haut renown, a true lover and
deserving of a good end! As together we rode forth, planning for our
marriage, we passed through a dark forest till we happed upon a grimly
castle! As we gazed upon its towers wondering who might dwell therein
out rushed a churlish knight, Oh, a mighty giant, one of the world’s
perilous fighters, seven times the height of mortal man, and with the
strength of seven men! [_In spite of his bravado the LITTLE PAGE shivers
audibly._] Nathless all undaunted my knight dressed his shield and set
his spear, crying, “How now, rude Saracen! An ye be a true fighter come
and prove it, spear to spear, and sword to sword, and body to body!” But
the miscreant laughed in mockage, and set on my poor love, belabouring
him with a huge club, and dragged him down from his saddle, shivering his
spear, and shattering his sword, and splitting his helm clear through to
the brain-pan! [_At this the LITTLE PAGE shudders in delighted horror._]
Ah, little page, I see well now that ye like this tale, but I do assure
you it is no matter for enjoyment!... And all this while I shrieked
shrilly and kneeled in the mire before the churlish wight, with my two
hands lifted, praying him for the love of Heaven to have mercy on my
knight! But the murtherous monster only laughed the louder, with a great
noise like thunder, spitting flames from his enormous mouth, and bound my
knight hand and feet and threw him into the dungeon keep, the while I,
leaping on my palfrey, made my escape, riding hither, like the wind, to
merry Carlisle, to King Arthur’s court, clear into this very hall, and
threw myself at the King’s feet, praying succour for my love! [_Weeps._]

GUINEVERE.

And did my Lord stay his hand? “Gramercy,” cried he, “but this is
the quest that even now I prayed for! Nor by the faith of my body as
anointed king will I set me down to meat on All-Hallowmass or ever I
shall have brought it to a good end!” And then he made no more words,
but took his shield and buckled it about his neck, and girt on his good
sword Excalibur, and lightly he took his horse and leaped upon him, and
departed on his way! And, though it is but a little faring hence, last
night went by, and to-day the hour of evensong is overpassed, and he
comes not back! [_Weeps._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Walks, perturbed._] Now meseemeth for to tempt God it is no wisdom, and
the King hath put this realm into the greatest domage that ever realm was
in by jeoparding his life in hazard with a giant!

GUINEVERE.

Ye say truth!—Gawayne—[_She advances toward the knight, and speaks
impressively._] All other knights of the good fellowship say that it
would put rebukes on Arthur, shaming him through England, Ireland, Wales
and Scotland, for to seek to rescue him in an adventure he has made oath
to enterprise alone! But I say, not so, sithen it is no mortal man he has
to do with, but a churlish wight, an outrageous giant, armed with the
craft of sorcery!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Struck by this argument._] By my head that sounds like a good counsel!

GUINEVERE.

[_Following up her advantage._] Then by your knighthood and fealty do I
charge ye, take upon yourself this matter!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_With due solemnity._] That will I do, and that will I swear to do, by
my blood; as a Knight of the Round Table, and on the Four Evangelists!
[_He kisses the hand of the QUEEN and is about to go, but pauses, as the
winding notes of a horn are heard. All exclaim._]

ALL.

[_Excited._] Hark! An horn!

THE LITTLE PAGE.

[_Excited, at the window._] Madam, it is the King who rides hither
attended by a knight, their horses all-to-beswet!

GUINEVERE.

Arthur ... God be praised!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_At the same time._] Thanks be to Heaven, the King!

THE DAMOSEL.

My knight, thank Heaven!

[_All hasten to meet the arrivals, meanwhile the harping in the banquet
hall is stilled, and the banqueters crowd in, exclaiming joyfully, for
the KING’S safe return._]

SIR KAY.

[_Announcing it to the others._] It is Arthur who comes back from his
quest ... and the Knight to his damosel! Ah, now there will be clippings
and kissings and calling of sweet names, I warrant!

[_ARTHUR and GUINEVERE enter, attended by SIR GAWAYNE and the LITTLE
PAGE, and followed by the DAMOSEL and her KNIGHT. Now ensues a moment of
excited welcome, and general greeting. Attendants bring torches._]

ARTHUR.

[_To GUINEVERE, as they enter._] Ah, my dear love, it was indeed an
adventure of great marvel ... greater hath no knight never happed upon, I
dare be sworn!

GUINEVERE.

And, thanks be to God, you came through it unscathed! [_She places him
tenderly in his chair of state, and looks at him with scrutiny._] Not so!
For here is blood upon your hand!... Haste, now! Let bring water and a
healing salve! [_Giving orders._]

ARTHUR.

It is not needed! It is but a little scratch of which I shall be hastily
whole, by the will of God!

GUINEVERE.

Come, then, relate your adventure! But you must be a-hungered and
athirst!... Let make a banquet of royalness as great as may be, in honour
of my Lord’s return! [_Going toward the banquet-hall._]

ARTHUR.

[_Detaining her._] Stay! This is no time for feastings! [_This
announcement causes a sensation._] Bring me a little deal of water, for
my tongue is parched! [_He drains the cup which is brought to him, while
all look on, struck from his far from joyous tone._]

SIR BLEOBERIS.

[_To SIR BORS._] What ails the King? Think you he has been mischieved in
some sort?

SIR BORS.

Truly his countenance is heavy as did he see himself like to be soonly in
checkmate!

ARTHUR.

[_Refreshed by the draught._] Ah! Later will I have meat and wine. But
first must I lay bare my breast, making clean avowals! My lords and
ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen, you see here before you Arthur, King
of Britain, having under my obeisance Wales, Ireland and Scotland, by
the grace of God, and many other realms, also head of the worshipful
fellowship of the Knights of the Round Table. And ... [_He pauses,
impressively_] by the sinful crafts of the devil, a prisoner on parole;
under pain of forfeiture of my lands, my life, my queen!

[_This, as well may be imagined, causes a profound sensation._]

SEVERAL KNIGHTS AND LADIES.

My lord, what say you!

OTHER KNIGHTS AND LADIES.

Sir! What words be these!

GUINEVERE.

My lord ... Arthur!

SEVERAL VOICES.

The Queen! Look to the Queen!... Oh, almost she fell down in a swound!

GUINEVERE.

[_Recovering herself._] It is naught.... My Lord, I pray you that you
will expound your fearsome rede!

ARTHUR.

That will I do!... Let all be seated. [_ALL obey the KING, whereupon
ARTHUR explains._] How I took oath on my head as anointed king not to set
me down to meat on All-Hallowmass or I had undertaken some haut quest
already do ye know. [_ALL assent._] Also know ye how this damosel came
riding hither into this hall, seeking succour for her knight! [_Again ALL
assent._] And none is there that knows not how forthwith I enterprised
the matter! [_Again ALL assent._] Now hear ye how I fared with it! [_ALL
settle themselves like children to whom a thrilling tale is to be told._]
Arrived afore the grimly tower I blew my horn and cried, “How now, Sir
Knight, an ye be a fair fighter come, prove it, spear to spear and sword
to sword, and body to body!” Whereon rushed forth the most outrageous
churl and greatest murtherer was ever seen, with a huge laughter like
thunder, and spitting flames of fire from his monstrous mouth! And by
sorcery he cast an evil spell on me, so that its scabbard would not loose
my sword Excalibur, and my arm fell helpless to my side like as it had
been the arm of a dead corp! [_The LADIES and the younger PAGES shudder
audibly._] “How, now, King Arthur,” cried the rude churl, “I have you
at a vantage, so best yield yourself without ado!” “Now not ever, nor
never on my head,” I answered him, “for I had leaver to be hacked to
bits than cry mercy of such a fiendly knight that it is no true knight
at all!” [_General exclamations of approval greet this, many crying, “Oh
well said!” ... “Spoken in kingly-wise!” etc._] “Then,” said he, “you
leese, not alone your life the which you seem to hold so light, but also
your realms, and your queen!” [_Again there is a shuddering sensation._]
Well, for to curtail a long tale short, “Come,” said he, “I will release
the knight the which to deliver you came, and suffer you to depart as
you came upon certain conditions!” “Name them,” said I. “That you shall
promise by the Holy Rood that you will not set you down to meat on
All-Hallowmass until you shall have brought me the answer to a rede that
I shall now propound to you!” “I assent to these,” I said!

[_ALL breathe a long sigh of relief, with exclamations of thankfulness
that all has turned out so well._]

GUINEVERE.

Now, scarce can I wait to go to the Minster to do my thankings to God for
such deliverance!... But the rede, my Lord! The rede!

ALL.

Aye, Sir, the rede!

ARTHUR.

Well may you ask! “What is it that all women most desire?”

ALL.

[_Repeat, as it were a lesson._] “What is it that all women most desire?”

GUINEVERE.

“What is it that all women most desire?” Oh, my dear love, as if there
could be but one answer to that! All women most desire what I, most
fortunate of women, have: A loving husband which is also a true and
faithful knight of worship and renown!

[_Many of those present concur in this, saying, “In sooth the Queen
speaks for all!” and, “Now, could there be two minds about that!” and,
“Gramercy, so also say I!” Others, however, differ, murmuring, “I doubt
that is right!” and, “What is truth for one may not be truth for other!”
and the like. GUINEVERE notices this and exclaims, saying_] How now! It
seems we are not all of one opinion!

DAME LAUREL.

Madam, is it permitted that we may speak freely, each the thought in mind?

GUINEVERE.

In sooth, Dame Laurel, I ordain and command that ye do so, for so only
shall we arrive at true conclusions!

DAME LAUREL.

Then, above the desire of a woman for a loving husband and worshipful
knight do I set the desire of all women to be beautiful! [_There is a
murmur of assent from many. The DAME continues._] For in the end beauty
wins the husband, and so, possessing one, shall the woman be ensured of
both! [_This provokes a general laugh._]

GUINEVERE.

Many minds, many counsels, it would seem! Let now a clerkly scribe set
down in writing these divers answers to our quest, to the end that
my Lord may take his choice of them! [_A SCRIBE prepares to write.
Meanwhile, at a sign from SIR KAY a SERVANT brings food and wine to the
KING who sits and partakes of this. GUINEVERE continues her quest._]
Our knights have not spoken! Sir Bors, what, say you, do all women most
desire?

SIR BORS.

Madam, I know not what all women do most desire, but I do know what all
women should most desire! [_There is an expectant hush, as he pauses
impressively._] To be pleasing in the eyes of their lords! [_This
provokes laughter, though some gentlemen seem to agree with the speaker._]

DAME LAUREL.

Our thanks to you, Sir Bors!

GUINEVERE.

And what says Sir Bleoberis?

SIR BLEOBERIS.

To be richly beseen, Madam; to be arrayed with the goodliest guise, in
silk attire, with precious stones, perfumes of sweet savour, and gold and
silver, great plenty, for to spend!

[_This is received with amusement, and protest from the LADIES._]

SIR KAY.

[_Nods assent._] Ye say well! [_To SIR BLEOBERIS._] And add to these
things, good cheer; meat, and spiced drinkings, and sweet eatings out of
measure!

[_More mirth, and renewed protests. Cries of: “Fie on you, Sir Kay! For
shame for an ungentle knight, Sir Kay! Oh, knight of the discourteous
tongue, Sir Kay!” etc._]

GUINEVERE.

Meseemeth our faithful Seneschal hath a grutch against all ladies!... How
sayeth Sir Meliogrance?

SIR MELIOGRANCE.

Madam, I hold that all women in their hearts crave flattery, fair words
and sooth, on the tongue of men! [_This also provokes mirth, and some
protest, whereupon the KNIGHT turns on the Ladies._] Aye, and is there
one among you will dare gainsay me?

GUINEVERE.

Now we know wherefore the shield of Sir Meliogrance is always kept so
bright, sithence he pays for gentle service with fair words and sooth!
Has any one withheld counsel? [_Looks about the group._]

SEVERAL LADIES.

Sir Gawayne! Sir Gawayne has not spoken!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Now by the faith of my body should I be acquitted of answer! [_This is
greeted with cries of, “And wherefore, Sir Knight?” on which SIR GAWAYNE
explains, addressing himself to the QUEEN._] Madam, by your own ordinance
was not a quest of these ladies set upon me, for my dolorous mishap
whereby I slew a lady, smiting off her head!... And by their judgment am
not I upon covenant to be courteous to all ladies and to fight for their
quarrels while ever I shall live?

[_This is received with some amusement and with general assent to the
justice of the plea._]

GUINEVERE.

So then, my good Lord! [_She takes the parchment from the SCRIBE and
hands this to the KING._] Seal with your signet and let send to the
churlish knight these true answers to his quest!

ARTHUR.

Alas, good dame! All these answers and more did I make incontinent, out
of my own wit and with such simple cunning as it hath pleased Heaven to
grant me. But.... [_He sighs._]

GUINEVERE.

[_With anxiety._] But! Aye, my good Lord; but?

ARTHUR.

Labour lost and in vain! [_ALL exclaim, amazed._] For all my pains, the
outrageous wight put great rebukes and mockage on me, and made sport
at me, and miscalled me fool! [_This produces a profound sensation._]
And, an I bring him the true rede or ever I set me down to meat upon
All-Hallowmass, my life is forfeit to him, and my lands, and fairest
flower of my garland, my Queen!

[_Sighs, and exclamations of sorrow are heard on all sides._]

THE DAMOSEL’S KNIGHT.

[_Weeping._] Alas, alas, that ever such a captive knight as I should have
power by misadventure to bring sorrow upon the greatest king and most
champion of all the world!

SIR BLEOBERIS.

[_Starting up._] Shall our worshipful fellowship be shamed to the world’s
end by a churlish Saracen that is an outrageous giant and no true knight?
Let us gather a great host, well furnished and garnished of all manner
of things that belong to the war, and let us do battle against him!

[_This suggestion is greeted with general acclaim._]

SIR BORS.

Oh, well said! And as Sir Bleoberis has devised so let it be done!

SIR MELIOGRANCE.

Aye, sir! [_To ARTHUR._] In the name of our goodly fellowship let dress
forthwith to the adventure!

THE LITTLE PAGE.

[_Casting himself at ARTHUR’S feet._] Oh, Sir, for the love of Heaven I
pray you give me the order of knighthood that I too may joust upon this
quest!

ARTHUR.

A beardless boy, thou art full young and tender of age, methinketh, for
to take so high an order upon thee!

THE LITTLE PAGE.

Sir, I beseech you! For leaver would I be cut into an hundred pieces than
that my Queen should be devoured by an horrible giant!

ARTHUR.

Gramercy, it were pity to deny thee, for thou wilt be a passing good man
and fearless knight when thou comest to age! [_He draws his sword, and
touches the lad’s shoulders with the flat of it, saying_] In the name
of high errantry, receive now the knighthood accolade! [_Then he raises
the new KNIGHT to his feet, and kisses him on both cheeks, saying_]
Rise up, Sir Griflet! See to it that ye wear your new honours ever as
beseems a chivalrous knight and honest gentleman! And God’s blessing be
on ye! [_SIR GRIFLET bows low, and returns to his place with becoming
dignity, drawing himself up with great hauteur as he passes his fellow
PAGE who before had mocked at him. ARTHUR now looks about the group._]
Gramercy, there never was no king that had so noble knights and valiant
as have I? But this is no matter for deeds of arms! For did I not carry
my sword Excalibur, the which is the sharpest and marvelest that was ever
in any knight’s hand! It is only by miracle that we can be delivered
from the subtle crafts of enchantment, and discover the true rede to the
outrageous monster’s quest: What is it that all women most desire?

[_A great sigh goes up as all realise the truth of this._]

GUINEVERE.

[_Takes a decision._] Now for the night let this quest overpass! Aye, my
Lords.... [_Addressing the KNIGHTS who seem to demur._] For this night
let us leave of this dolorous matter! This night we will take our rest,
and to-morrow betimes we will send messengers north and south and east
and west, seeking good counsel! Come, avoid! Avoid! To your chambers,
all! And who knows but in a marvelous dream shall be expounded to us,
What is it that all women most desire?

[_Taking ARTHUR by the hand she leads him out. ALL follow, repeating in
some sort the question, “What is it ... Gramercy, now what is it that all
women do most desire?” SIR KAY and the SERVANTS remain, the former giving
directions for barring doors, extinguishing torches, and the like._]

SIR KAY.

Bar well the door! [_To one SERVANT._] For, sooth, this is the eve of
All-Hallowmass, when all manner of strange visitants may be abroad!...
How now, ye lazy lusks! [_To other SERVANTS who are stealthily gobbling
up the leavings of the KING’S repast._] Back to your kitching, ye turners
of broaches and washers of dishes! In the divil’s name shall ye wax fat
as a porke hog on good browesse, purveyance for a king! Back to your
kitching, knaves! [_In consternation the SERVANTS make their escape, by
way of the banqueting-hall. Alone, SIR KAY looks about to see that all
is in order, kicks a forward log into place upon the hearth, then stands
beside the chimney, lost in thought. Speaks as if thinking aloud._] What
is it that all women do most desire? By my head I know not, and so to
bed. [_He is about to go, when there is a knock at the door, at first
timid and hesitating, then gaining strength. The KNIGHT starts._] Now who
may that be? [_A SHADOW now crosses the moonlight that streams in through
the window, and a voice is heard._]

THE VOICE.

Unshut the door! For the love of Heaven, good Seneschal, unshut the door!

SIR KAY.

By the faith of my body, ’tis a woman!

THE VOICE.

Gentle Knight Seneschal, of your charity, unshut the door!

SIR KAY.

Not I! For it was a gentlewoman and no knight that led Adam into deadly
sin, and well I wot it is the foul fiend himself hath sent ye hither for
to shame me in my stewardship! Aroint thee! Aroint thee! [_He makes the
sign of a cross in the air._]

THE VOICE.

Alas! [_THE SHADOW disappears._]

SIR KAY.

Ha! No fiend in the guise of a gentlewoman shall so mischieve me! [_He
lays himself down on a bench and sleeps._]

[_Enter SIR GAWAYNE, musing, shield in one hand, in the other a cloth._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

What is it that all women do most desire? Now by my knighthood it would
seem a simple quest, yet it hath set the whole Court by the ears, and put
the kingdom in jeopard ... and the Queen! [_He sits near the window and
polishes his shield._]

[_GUINEVERE enters in sad meditation._]

GUINEVERE.

What is it all women do most desire? Fair Heaven, here am I a woman,
with all I love in hazard for the answer, yet I know it not! [_She sees
SIR GAWAYNE in the shadow, and starts, exclaiming, then recognises him,
reassured._] Sir Gawayne!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Rising._] Madam! Doth aught ail you or the King?

GUINEVERE.

Finding my Lord restless and almost out of his mind, I gave him a potion
of simples by which he fell on sleep! But I ... I cannot rest for sorrow,
when, or ever the morrow is overpassed, we may all be chased from our
lands and made to yield to a great mighty and outrageous giant!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Polishing vigourously._] It shall go hard with the knavish churl or
ever he carries out his foul intent, I warrant you, Madam!

GUINEVERE.

Ah, dear nephew, if it were a matter of prowess, then should we be making
great joy and feasting! But how can fair chivalry prevail against the
wicked crafts of sorcery?

[_Again the knock at the door is heard. BOTH start and exclaim. THE
SHADOW appears again at the window._]

THE VOICE.

Who dwell herein, I pray you of your charity unshut the door!

GUINEVERE.

A woman! Seeking shelter!

SIR KAY.

[_Waking, and realising the state of affairs._] Madam, I pray you,
withhold, for well am I sure it is no woman!

THE VOICE.

For the love of Heaven I pray you give me entertainment here!

GUINEVERE.

A very gentlewoman! A well-languaged lady!

SIR KAY.

An enchanter and multiplier of subtile words!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Looking at the reflection in his shield._] Oh, but young and passing
fair!

SIR KAY.

[_In desperation._] A serpent! The divil in woman’s semblance!

GUINEVERE.

Now in truth, Sir Kay, you are the shamefulest knight of your tongue that
now is living in the world, and an ye do not yourself unshut the door to
this poor wight then will I myself!

SIR KAY.

On your own head be it, then!... [_Strides to the door and throws it
wide._] Who stands without, enter, by ordinance of the Queen! And under
protest from the Seneschal! [_ALL watch with interest, SIR KAY crossing
himself, as the STRANGER enters, showing herself to be a woman, bent and
hobbling, close-muffled in scarlet cloak and hood. SIR GAWAYNE starts,
realising that appearances have deceived him. SIR KAY mutters, mimicking
the other._] O passing young and peerless fair! [_ALL hang back, slightly
fearful, scrutinising the STRANGER._]

GUINEVERE.

[_To SIR KAY._] This is no beggar asking alms! I charge you, Sir Kay,
speak fair to her, and ask her who she may be, whence come, and on what
errand?

SIR KAY.

Pray, fair damosel, of what kin come ye, and by what name may we know ye,
and wherefore do you honour our poor Court with your gracious presence?

THE STRANGER.

Sir Kay, ye shall hold me excused, for not to you will I discover my
blood, my name, and wherefore I am come!

GUINEVERE.

Gawayne, do you greet her and question her in seemly sort!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Lady, I pray you tell us, who may ye be, and whence, and on what cause
hither come?

THE STRANGER.

Full fain will I answer you, Sir Gawayne! I come of a strange country,
and I am hight Déliverance La Belle Pilgrim, and I bring you a great
reward because you knew me to be young and passing fair!

SIR KAY.

[_Laughs, scoffing._] Déliverance La Belle Pilgrim! Now on my head....

GUINEVERE.

Peace, Sir Kay! A truce to your mockage and scornings!... ’Tis but a poor
daffish witless wight! [_She advances hospitably._] Whoever ye be, ye are
right heartily welcome! Give place, Gawayne, the hearth hereby! And you,
gentle Knight Seneschal, let bring refreshing of good meats and drinks!

SIR KAY.

Now on my head, let beggars find sustenance in the kitching, nor seek to
fare with great pride and bobbance among their betters!... Or let Sir
Gawayne serve his lovely damosel!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Beware what thou sayest in disworship of me, or....

SIR KAY.

What, are ye not upon covenant sworn never to refuse courtesy to lady or
gentlewoman?

SIR GAWAYNE.

Now sith ye have such despite of me I require ye to joust with me!

SIR KAY.

Oh, an ye seek an adventure you will find me soonly ready!

GUINEVERE.

Fie upon you both! Sir Kay, for the love of Heaven and the high order of
knighthood forbear! Gawayne, hold thee still and say nothing!

SIR GAWAYNE.

But, Madam, an I revenge my fellow he will say dishonour of me!

SIR KAY.

I never was proved coward of none earthly knight in all my life!

GUINEVERE.

I beseech of you both, in the peril in which we now stand, to be friends!

SIR KAY.

[_Reluctantly yielding._] I will hold you excused! [_To the other
KNIGHT._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Equally reluctant._] All is pardoned on my part!

SIR KAY.

[_With gruff friendliness, laughs._] The lion is of a more gentler nature
than his roaring would beseem!

SIR GAWAYNE.

In my heart I thought not amiss against ye!

THE STRANGER.

[_To the QUEEN._] Madam, I thank you of your great goodness to me! In
recompensation I may do you some service! I need not meat nor drink. My
errand is with the King! I crave speech with the King!

GUINEVERE.

[_Surprised._] With the King?

SIR KAY.

[_Whispers, to the QUEEN._] ’Ware, now! ’Tis the eve of All-Hallowmass!

GUINEVERE.

Speech with the King! Good dame, this would be a simple asking, but my
Lord is now on sleep! Because he was restless and full of heaviness I
gave him a potion, so that he will not awake till dawning! Not within
three hours!

THE STRANGER.

Arthur wakens ... anon he comes this way!

SIR KAY.

Mark well my words, a sorcerous witch!

[_At this moment ARTHUR enters slowly, as if in a trance. ALL exclaim._]

GUINEVERE.

[_Goes to the KING._] Dear love, I left ye soundly sleeping!

ARTHUR.

[_Waking fully, with a start._] Guinevere! I had a marvellous vision, but
it lacks interpretation! I dreamed one came knocking on this door ...
a damosel passing young and of peerless loveliness who called herself
Déliverance La Belle Pilgrim.... [_He breaks off with a start and an
exclamation, seeing the STRANGER, saying_,] By the faith of my body, ’tis
the loathly lady!

THE STRANGER.

God keep ye, Arthur!

ARTHUR.

God keep ye, dame! [_To the OTHERS he explains in an undertone._] ’Tis
a witless wight that I encountered in the forest, saying her prayers
between an oak and an holly tree!

THE STRANGER.

Because of your bounty ye gave me alms and proffered me aid when I
called after ye as I sat between oak and holly tree I am come to do ye a
service, so that ye shall be glad that ye ever showed me goodness!... I
would have speech with ye in privity!

[_The OTHERS seem about to protest against this._]

ARTHUR.

Whatsomever ye would say, may not this be said in open audience?

THE STRANGER.

[_Shakes her head._] So would it lose its helping virtue!

ARTHUR.

[_To the OTHERS._] Then, avoid, a little while! I pray you all, avoid!
[_To the QUEEN._] Fear naught, dear love! An aged woman of an hundred
winters, who knows but she may expound my vision, and discover to me what
all women do most desire!

[_SIR GAWAYNE gives his hand to GUINEVERE and leads her away._]

SIR KAY.

[_Following, grumbling._] The original serpent! The divil himself!

THE STRANGER.

Sir, the signification of your dream is this: the dragon betokeneth the
giant, being right horrible and abominable, whose peer for outrageousness
ye never saw in all your days, and before the dawning will he come
knocking on your doors to claim his forfeit, and unless ye make
conditions with me for the true answer to his rede....

[_At this juncture a terrible roaring is heard without, also resounding
blows on the door. The QUEEN and the TWO KNIGHTS come in running, crying,
“The giant! The giant!”_]

GUINEVERE.

[_At the window._] Oh, an outrageous churl seven times the height of
mortal man, and spitting flames of fire from his monstrous mouth!

SIR KAY.

[_Running about, shouting._] Awake! Awake! Ho, there, and here, awake!
Lazy lusks, ye ought to be ashamed so to sleep when knights have ado in
the field!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Also calling._] Awake, all men of arms! Ho, to the defence!

[_Great confusion prevails. People come running from all sides, meanwhile
the loud knocking and shouting is heard at intervals._]

THE STRANGER.

In vain! Arms profit ye naught! He has ye at a vantage!

THE GIANT.

[_Outside._] How now, King Arthur! What is it that all women do most
desire?

ARTHUR.

O help me, Heaven! What is it that all women do most desire?

STRANGER.

That well can I tell to ye!

ARTHUR.

[_Turning to her._] How now, dame? Beware what thou sayest, for thou
speakest a great word!

THE STRANGER.

Sir, if God give me grace that I may speed you well, delivering you from
this peril, in recompensation will ye give me a reward that I will ask of
ye?

ARTHUR.

Certainly, so that it be not unreasonably asked, and may be honourably
granted....

THE STRANGER.

That is well said!

ARTHUR.

Speak, then. Name your petition!

THE STRANGER.

I will ask my gift when I see my time!

ARTHUR.

Now, by my faith, but this is emprising an adventure in the dark!

THE GIANT.

[_Without._] Arthur, for the second time of asking, what is it that all
women do most desire?

[_This produces great general consternation._]

THE STRANGER.

Arthur, for the second time of asking will ye entreat with me?

GUINEVERE.

Oh, my dear Lord, for the love of Heaven, whatsomever boon the dame
seeketh, that grant to her, for there is none other remedy in the peril
we are in!

[_THE GIANT knocks louder than ever._]

SIR GRIFLET.

[_Runs forward with sword and shield._] How, now, varlet! [_To his former
fellow-PAGE._] Attend me! Ho, now! On to the assay! [_The doughty child
is restrained by a fat GENTLEWOMAN._]

THE STRANGER.

Fools, fools! Your pains and preparations are vain, for the deed shall
never be achieved but by me!

GUINEVERE.

[_Again beseeching the KING who still demurs._] Dear love, bethink you of
all that is in jeopard: your kingdom, your life, and me, your queen!

ARTHUR.

[_Considering the STRANGER._] Now, my heart giveth me to thee greatly
that thou art come on a good errand, and greatly my conceit faileth me
but thou shalt prove our true deliverance! Therefore....

THE STRANGER.

Ye will grant my boon? Upon covenant.... Sworn upon a book?

ARTHUR.

By the faith of my body and the Holy Rood!

THE STRANGER.

Then.... [_Going to ARTHUR she whispers in his ear._]

THE GIANT.

[_Without._] Arthur, for the third time of asking....

ARTHUR.

[_Breaking into immoderate mirth, on hearing the STRANGER’S whispered
communication._] Oh, ho, ho! Let blow! Let blow! [_While speaking he
hastens to the window, the while horns are blown and great excitement
prevails._] Hark, ye, varlet! Learn now from Arthur the true answer
to your rede: What is it that all women do most desire? [_There is an
expectant hush, as the KING pauses before announcing._] Their own sweet
will, that they may do in all things as they list!

[_Immoderate laughter seizes the assemblage, and all repeat._]

ALL.

[_Stamping about and slapping knees, etc._] Oh, aye! All women do most
desire their own sweet will, that they may do in all things as they list!

THE GIANT.

[_Without, unable to believe his ears._] Eh? Eh? What word do I hear?

ALL.

[_Shouting in concert and carefully syllabling._] All women most desire
their own sweet will that they may do in all things as they list!

[_At this THE GIANT utters a mighty roar of wrath and frustration, and
falls to the ground with a tremendous thud; lies there groaning, and
obviously writhing, a short space, then with one final yell gives up
the ghost, ALL, meantime, mocking and with ejaculations recording the
phases of his passing: “Aha, now! How like you that!... Mark how he
flames and smokes with wrath!... Oh, what a fall! Almost he brings down
the castle!... Hear him groan!... Ah, fellow; that wraths you finely!...
Now he dies! He dies! He gives up the ghost!” They all dance about,
exulting._]

GUINEVERE.

[_Falling on ARTHUR’S neck._] Saved! Now am I more gladder than I ever
was! Oh, my dear love! Mercifully saved!

ARTHUR.

[_Embracing her._] Aye, saved indeed, give laudings and praisings unto
God, and His messenger, La Belle Pilgrim Déliverance!

GUINEVERE.

Aye, soothly! And now let us put aside all sorrowful thoughts and speak
of rejoicing!... Sir Kay, good Knight Seneschal, let make a great feast!
Let there be harping and minstrelsy!... Let ceremony be overpassed, and
all make good cheer!

ALL.

[_Excited._] Aye; a feast! A feast!

[_Harpings and song are heard in the banqueting-hall, and in joyous
confusion the LORDS and LADIES repair thither._]

ARTHUR.

[_Offering his hand to the STRANGER._] Lady!

THE STRANGER.

First, Sir King, as I have done well by ye and holpen ye out of the peril
in which ye stood, I require of ye my reward!

ARTHUR.

Require or desire of me anything, dame! I wot not what your will is, but
howbeit I promised ye largely, whatsomever ye demand ye shall have it
without any fail!

THE STRANGER.

Then do I ask a noble knight, and full of prowess to take and wed me unto
his wife!

ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE.

[_Start, amazed._] Good dame! What words are these?

ARTHUR.

Ye ask a Knight for husband! Now, on my head—!

GUINEVERE.

A damosel of an hundred years of age, would ye not do better to let make
yourself a nun, and wear white clothes and black, and end your days in
alms’ deeds and prayers and fastings in an abbey?

THE STRANGER.

I require upon covenant that ye grant my will!

ARTHUR.

Aye, dame; what the King hath promised on his avows shall not be
gainsayed!... Ho, Sir Knights: Sir Kay, Sir Bors and Sir Bleoberis,
Sir Gawayne and Sir Meliogrance, and all the worshipful company! [_The
KNIGHTS come hastening from the banqueting-hall, the LADIES also._] Which
of ye will emprise an adventure of passing peril? [_The KNIGHTS press
forward eagerly, saying: “I, Sir King!... Sir, I am your fellow!...
Oh, my liege, choose me!... Nay, then; me!” The KING, however, finds
it hard to break the news._] It is required of us upon covenant, in
recompensation for our deliverance that one of ye.... Oh, how can I say
the word! ... that one of ye shall take and wed this dame unto his wife!

[_A horrified exclamation goes up from the KNIGHTS on this, while the
LADIES seem inclined to laugh._]

SIR BORS.

Is not this questing in the dark? Will not the lady show us her visage?

ARTHUR.

Unwimple your visage, dame!

[_Turning her face to the window, the STRANGER raises her hood for a few
seconds. ALL crowd forward to gaze on her, then turn away, the men with
suppressed horror and the women with ill-suppressed mirth. Exclamations
rise from all sides: “Oh, what an unlovely lady!... By my soul, a loathly
lady!”_]

SIR MELIOGRANCE.

[_His voice quaking with fear._] Is there no way but this? Leaver
would I shed the best blood of my body than ... than.... [_Breaks off,
stammering, not wishing to be rude._]

ARTHUR.

There is none other way!

SIR BORS.

I am hors de combat! Already is my troth plighted to ... to ... to
several ladies!

SIR BLEOBERIS.

[_Hastily._] And mine! To the same ladies!

THE OTHER KNIGHTS.

Cowards! Cowards!

SIR GRIFLET.

[_Runs forward and casts himself at ARTHUR’S feet._] Sir, I never yet
applied me to be married, but an it please ye, I will win worship in this
wise!

[_All the LADIES murmur admiringly, “Gallant child!”_]

ARTHUR.

Rise, Sir Griflet! This adventure is for your elders ... your betters
could not be!... Sir Kay....

SIR KAY.

[_Hurriedly._] This is matter for Sir Gawayne! [_This is greeted with a
slight general exclamation; the KNIGHT continues._] For the slaying of a
lady by misadventure and smiting off her head is he not sworn upon the
Four Evangelists never to refuse courtesy to lady ne gentlewoman so long
as he shall live?

[_All the KNIGHTS heartily assent to this._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

Now by faith of my body....

ALL THE KNIGHTS.

[_Hurriedly._] Aye! Sir Gawayne is the fellow for this adventure!

GUINEVERE.

[_Imploring, hands out to him._] Dear nephew ... for the love of the high
order of knighthood, assent to this, I beseech ye!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_After a pause._] I assent me!

[_A sigh of relief goes up from all sides._]

ARTHUR.

Truly, nephew, ye have a mighty heart! [_He presents the STRANGER to the
KNIGHT._] Take her, and God be your speed!

GUINEVERE.

[_To the assembled people._] Avoid! Avoid! Together will they be more
at their hearts’ ease! [_All go. The QUEEN continues, addressing the
STRANGER._] Lady, we will make ready in the goodliest wise that may be
devised for the betrothal feast! [_She and the KING also go._]

[_Left together GAWAYNE and DÉLIVERANCE gaze on one another, then,
involuntarily, the young man turns away and covers his face with his
hands. He then resumes his interrupted task of polishing his shield. The
LADY goes to him with a brisker step than we have yet seen her employ,
and touches him on the shoulder. With a start and an ejaculation he looks
up at her hopefully._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

Gramercy! The face in the shield!... Ah! [_He sighs heavily._] ’Twas but
a trick of fantasy! Woven of moonlight and dawn! [_He goes on polishing._]

DÉLIVERANCE.

Pluck up heart. All may yet be well!

SIR GAWAYNE.

All _is_ well, madam. [_He rises._] An ye have no commands for me I will
go make me ready in seemly sort for our betrothal!

DÉLIVERANCE.

Rather abide, and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye
done for me! An ye wist how ye have holpen a dolorous lady!

SIR GAWAYNE.

I but stand upon my knighthood, madam! [_He is about to go, when there
enters, confronting him, a young and gallant KNIGHT, in full armour.
GAWAYNE stops short, staring at him._] Now, by my head ... the face I saw
in my shield! [_He passes a hand over his puzzled brow._] Of whence be
ye, and how called?

THE KNIGHT [DÉLIVERÉ].

I am extract of noble blood. I am hight Déliveré! I am brother to this
lady!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Brother to...! [_He looks from one to the other, incredulous._]

DÉLIVERÉ.

[_Corroborating his own assertion._] To Déliverance La Belle Pilgrim!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Now by my head you speak a great wonder!

DÉLIVERÉ.

By the crafts of sorcery I was turned into the outrageous giant, keeping
the evil customs whereby Arthur and his Court were put in jeopard! My
sister alone knew the true answer to my rede, but none could learn it
or ever a worshipful knight should promise to take and wed her unto his
wife! In this ye stand a proved knight of matchless chivalry! But an ye
would save yourself unshamed from this marriage, come and joust with me!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_With a cry of joy._] Now Heaven be praised, right glad and blithe am
I, for liefer an hundred times would I die with fighting worship than
live with wedded woe! Come, Sir Knight, to the assay, and spare me not,
for I warn thee I will not spare thee! Come and prove who will be first
to say Ho! [_DÉLIVERANCE, who has hobbled back to the hearth, cowers in
her chair, moaning. “Now am I the wofullest lady of the world!”_] Now
wherefore this dolorous moaning?

DÉLIVERANCE.

I require thee, good knight, as thou art a gentleman, not to gainsay your
avows to me!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Pauses irresolute._] Now was ever knight in such plight, between fire
and water as it might be!

DÉLIVERÉ.

Coward! Coward!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Starting to go to him._] Now by the faith of my body never will I yield
me nor say the loth word!

DÉLIVERANCE.

Traitor! Traitor!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Stopping short._] Now by the Four Evangelists.... [_He takes a sudden
decision, and goes toward his bride._] Lady, love is free in himself, and
never will be bound, but I shall be your servant and knight in right and
wrong, and I shall never fail you to do as much as a knight may do, and
I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the days of my life your
knight!

DÉLIVERÉ.

Coward!

[Illustration: “Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your bride!”]

SIR GAWAYNE.

Not so, Sir Déliveré, for, God wot, I have chosen the more perilous part!

DÉLIVERANCE.

Now this gladdeth well my heart, for so have ye delivered me from the
bondage of enchantment! Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your
bride! [_Standing erect, and throwing back her hood she discloses the
countenance of a young woman of great beauty._]

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_With a cry of great joy._] Lady! The damosel I saw in my shield ... all
passing young and peerless fair!... Sir Knights and Ladies! [_He goes
toward the banqueting-hall, calling_:] Come, and witness a great marvel!
[_ALL come in, in great excitement, and from the other direction come the
KING and QUEEN, with their attendants, bringing a rich robe and sparkling
jewels for the bride. Excitedly SIR GAWAYNE invites their attention
to DÉLIVERANCE._] Behold my bride ... the damosel I saw anon, all
passing young and peerless fair! [_But, even as he had turned from her,
DÉLIVERANCE drew her hood over her head, wrapped her mantle, huddling,
about her bent shoulders, and relapsed into the form of an aged crone.
ALL look amazed._]

SIR KAY.

[_Takes her by the arm and turns her toward the light, then bursts into
great laughter._] By my head, he’s clean out of his wits!... Passing
fair? The loathly lady! [_ALL echo this, and troop off, mocking SIR
GAWAYNE._]

GUINEVERE.

[_Who with the KING remains._] The unlovely lady, the loathly lady
passing fair? Poor, poor gentleman! He is under the spell of a dolorous
enchantment!

ARTHUR.

Pray Heaven he may never get well of it!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Sternly, to his bride._] What means this: now young and fair, now old
and wizened? This is no stability!

DÉLIVERANCE.

Alas, dear love! The spell is still on me, whereby I may be young and
fair to you alone, and old and bent in company; or young and fair in
company, and old and bent to you alone! It is for you to choose!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Oh, what a burden is thrust upon me! Alone with you to enjoy your
delectable beauty, and in company to endure the tauntings and mockage of
men ... or in company to have the envy of all for my lovely bride, and
alone with you to discover a loathly crone of an hundred years of age!
[_He groans, throwing himself into a chair and covering his face._]

DÉLIVERÉ.

[_Sharply._] Choose ye now, or look well to yourself!

SIR GAWAYNE.

Leave that, Sir Déliveré!... [_He goes to DÉLIVERANCE._] I give it to
thee, for my wedding-gift, the thing that all women do most desire ...
your own will in this affair, to do as you may list!

DÉLIVERANCE.

[_Casting aside her mantle and throwing up her arms with a great cry
of joy._] Oh, laudings and praisings to Heaven, for now is my cup of
happiness brim-filled and running over!... Sir Gawayne, ye have passed
the third and last test of chivalry, and so have delivered me forever
from the crafts of sorcery!

SIR GAWAYNE.

[_Overjoyed, almost in a whisper._] What! Is it true? Ye are all fair for
all times, in company and for me alone?

DÉLIVERÉ.

It is true! She is a full fair maid, good and gentle, and right well
taught, so may each love other entirely!

[_ARTHUR and GUINEVERE, who were standing at a distance, have joined the
group, attracted by DÉLIVERANCE’S cry, and now offer their felicitations.
GUINEVERE kisses the bride, and places a jewel in her lovely hair and a
chain about her fair neck._]

ARTHUR.

[_To the two SERVANTS, who stand at the entrance to the
banqueting-hall._] Let blow! Let blow! [_At a bugle blast from these ALL
enter hurriedly. The KING addresses them._] Now is greater worship than
ever before won to our goodly fellowship, sithence our dear nephew Sir
Gawayne hath passed the third and final test of chivalry!

[_ALL exclaim rejoicing._]

SIR KAY.

But ... where is the loathly lady?

ALL.

Aye, where is the unlovely lady ... the loathly lady?

ARTHUR.

Yon stands she, freed forever from the evil spell of sorcery! And by the
faith of my body I do think she is the fairest lady of the world but if
it were Queen Guinevere!




A CHRISTMAS PARTY

_Christmas_


CHARACTERS

    _THREE LOBS, Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere._
    _Three PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN: ETHEL who is called BABS, JANET
      called BEESWAX, and RICHARD called DICK._
    _Some CHILDREN of HISTORY and FABLE, including CHRISTOPHER
      COLUMBUS, PETER SCHLEMIHL, SLEEPING BEAUTY and NAPOLEON._
    SANTA CLAUS.
    THE FATHER AND MOTHER.




A CHRISTMAS PARTY


Before the curtains part the voice of the Mother is heard singing her
babes to sleep with A CHRISTMAS EVENSONG.

    At Bethlehem beneath the hill
    Where herded sheep lay slumber-still,
    All wrapped in snowy fleece,
    Within a humble khan, where lay
    A band of farers on their way,
    Was born the Prince of Peace,
                    Prince of Peace!

    Then from the wakened skies there came
    A wonder-song, a starry flame,
    By star and song to tell
    That prince’s hall or wayside khan
    Shall Heaven be, when child of man
    Is child of God as well!
                    God as well!

    The angels sing to-day, as then,
    God’s peace on earth, goodwill to men
    His pledge divine who keep,
    And by the tower on the hill
    Lo! Christ the Shepherd watches still,
    So, lambkins, go to sleep!
                    Go to sleep!

The curtains have parted slowly, noiselessly, disclosing a room in such
deep shadow that only by peering can one discern three small white beds
far up against the wall of a real everyday nursery, a companionable
fire purring on the hearth, and a real everyday Mother, the kind every
happy child knows, sitting singing. When her song is ended she rises,
bends over the pillows, nods as if satisfied that, though three soft,
warm little bodies lie snugly tucked in between sheets and blankets, the
Children themselves have gone off on their nightly journey, to Sleep,
smoothes a coverlet in the quite unnecessary way that Mothers have, draws
a screen about the beds to keep out the draught that grown-ups always
think is trying to get at children, but that in reality could not be
coaxed to stay in a house with all outdoors to play in, then, going to
the hearth, she seizes the poker, and in a fashion rather violent for
so gentle a being, she beats the reddest of the logs until it sneezes
sparks, as if to caution it against breaking out in greedy flames that
make everything within reach catch fire like measles. Finally, since
there is not the least, wee excuse for further lingering, she kisses her
hand to the forms of the Children who by this time are very far away, and
steals noiselessly from the room.

The fire goes out with a disgruntled pop, as if remarking that it has
no desire to remain where it is not trusted to behave itself, and the
room becomes so dark you think it is all over, and that it is not much
of a play after all, when, hark! You hear the jingle of sleigh-bells,
and the laughter of a merry party passing by. Now the warm glow returns
slowly to the hearth and the logs start talking. “Crack, crack! Splutter,
splutter,” cries one, turning its torch in the direction of the
book-shelves. “What’s all this learned nonsense? Works on botany, and
what’s that long word? Yes, ornithology! Why don’t they say birds and
beasts and flowers and forests and things? And why go to books to learn
when one has eyes and ears ... five senses, all told, and a sixth, if
people did but know it!”

“Stupid as a log,” cries another. “That’s what I overheard a teacher call
a boy whose poor little body was kept in a school-room while its soul
had its arms about my neck, learning True History, and the Real Meaning
of Things, in the forest! For my part, at the risk of seeming vain I
consider a log the brightest thing I know!”

“Right, O,” concurred a third. “Really human beings are the dullest
creatures! probably because someone invented words for them to talk with!
Now if you’re seeking a professor of language let me recommend the head
of the squirrel family that used to be my top-front lodgers. He could
chatter more fluently about a hazel-nut without articulating a single
word than any human that has addled his brains getting an University
diploma!”

“True,” replied the first speaker. “And the longer humans live
in the world the duller they become from read—read—reading, and
talk—talk—talking words, words, words, words, words! Now take babies.
Babies are the wise ones. Babies who cheep like birds when pleased and
squeal the way little pigs do when they are hungry can always be depended
on to make their meaning understood! Nobody has to consult a dictionary
or employ an interpreter to hold a conversation with a baby in any
language! Old people, too, when they lose their teeth and forget words,
they grow wise again! What a pleasure it is to burn brightly for old
people as they sit beside the hearth, warming their hearts, and telling
them over and over again the forgotten tales they heard from us before
their wits were cluttered up with words like rank growths of underbrush
in the forest!”

All paused a moment to reflect on this fine sentiment, when a log at the
back of the pile that had hitherto held itself aloof, rolled up in a
ragged cloak of charred bark, now turned over with a snort, falling on
the others heavily. “The forest, indeed! Landlubbers all! I have been
to sea! I have been shipwrecked! I have stood on my head and turned
somersaults in mid-ocean!” And he stuck out his tongue, sending forth
darts of the most wonderful green and blue. Thoroughly roused now, the
logs all talk at the same time, bragging of their adventures and of the
family trees from which they have sprung, and there’s no knowing how it
would end if it were not that some people passing sing a snatch of an old
Christmas Carol, a great favourite with the hearth-logs, so that they
cease wrangling to listen to it.

    Carol, carol, Christian!
    Carol, carol joyfully!
    Carol for the coming of Christ’s nativity!

    Go ye to the forest
    Where the myrtles grow,
    Where the pine and laurel bend beneath the snow!

    Gather them for Jesus,
    Wreathe them for his shrine,
    Make his temple glorious with the box and vine!

Now there is dead silence in the nursery which soon is filled with a
strange light made up of hearth-glow, moon-beam and the blueness that
only comes from fairyland. For the first time you notice that the
Children have hung their stockings from the mantelpiece. Then you see,
asleep on the hearthrug, three small brown beings, each cuddling a broom,
by which token you know them to be the Good Little People who make their
home with happy Children, called Lobs for short, though if ever you
address one by his full title you’ll say Lob-Lie-By-The-Fire.

FIRST LOB.

    [_Waking, stirs._] Pray is it time?

SECOND LOB.

    [_Waking, turns._] Eh? Time? ’Tis always time.
    Is ever there a time when ’tis not time?

FIRST LOB.

    I mean, is it the hour for chanticleer
    To crow the sun up, Lob to vanish?

SECOND LOB.
                                        Nay!
    So warm the hearth, so bright the embers glow,
    The night must still be young! Sleep out your sleep,
    And let me do the same! [_Drowsily._]

FIRST LOB.

                                    Brother, no work
    Is there for us to-night as usual
    In redding up the place?

SECOND LOB.

                              ’Tis Christmas Eve!
    A holiday! Our task comes later. Scraps
    And string and littered paper, leaves that dry
    And crackling fall from holly boughs, burnt-out
    The candles on the Tree, soon will our hands
    With these be full!

                               [_He turns over and hums drowsily._]

          Lob here, Lob there,
          Lob everywhere!
          Lob, sweep the hearth and mend the toys,
          Lob, do the tasks of girls and boys,
          Who would not be a Lob like me,
          A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!

                               [_Again there is silence. The mysterious
                                 light which we now see proceeds from the
                                 night-light in the corner grows brighter.
                                 One of the children, DICK, probably, says
                                 something in his sleep._]

THIRD LOB.

              [_Starting up._] What’s that?

SECOND LOB.

                                          What’s what?

THIRD LOB.

                                                        Surely
    Someone said something!

SECOND LOB.

                            Someone I could name
    Said something! If someone would learn to say
    A trifle less, do more, ’twere better far
    For someone!

DICK.

                    Bells! His flying reindeer cleave
    The crystal air, shaking the golden stars
    Out of their sockets, scattering their dust
    All-sparkling on the snow! Oh, listen!

THIRD LOB.

                                        Hark!
    The children wake! And we still here!

SECOND LOB.

                                      Why not?
    A nosey dog, the household cat with brains
    In every whisker-tip, on friendly terms
    With these ’twere best to be, I grant you. But
    A dull-sensed human child between whose feet
    We sweep unheeded shall we fear?

THIRD LOB.

                                      Only
    On Christmas Eve when fairy-tales come true!

SECOND LOB.

    O wise the word! Come, brother; wake!

                               [_He pokes the FIRST LOB with his broom._]

FIRST LOB.

                                          Let be!
    I’m weary!

                               [_THE CHILDREN now are heard, yawning and
                                 stretching. He starts up._]

              Eh? What’s this? That rowdy horde
    Of heavy-footed Children, coming back
    Like runaways deserting school, before
    Dawn and the birds, from Sleep! O trespassers
    Upon our ancient province of the night!

                               [_THE CHILDREN come pattering toward the
                                 hearth dragging on their dressing-gowns
                                 over their night-gowns._]

DICK.

    I’m sure I heard him!

BABS.

                          Nonsense, Dick. For, see!
    Unfilled our stockings from the mantel hang,
    Dangling as when we left them for him!

DICK.

                                            Oh!
    You do not think he can have passed us by?
    O Santa Claus, come back!

BEESWAX.

                               [_Catching sight of the THREE LOBS, who
                                 stand, brooms shouldered, guarding the
                                 hearth._]

    Oh, look! Dick, Babs! Just look!
    Three wee brown men with brooms!

                               [_She approaches THE LOBS._]

                                      I know you! Yes,
    I’ve read about you in a picture-book!
    You’re Lobs!

FIRST LOB.

    [_Saluting._] Lob here!

SECOND LOB.

                [_Saluting._] Lob there!

THIRD LOB.

                            [_Saluting._] Lob everywhere!

    DICK AND BABS.

                [_Excited._] What! Real Lobs? Alive?

THE LOBS.

    [_Laugh derisively._] O silly ones! Whoever heard of Lobs
    Unreal, not alive? [_They dance about, singing._]
          Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere,
          Lob sweep the hearth, Lob mend the toys,
          Lob do the tasks of girls and boys!
          Who would not be a Lob like me!
          A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!

BABS.

    I’m charmed to meet you. Make yourselves at home!

THE LOBS.

    We are at home. We live here! But, pray you
    Feel quite at home!

THE CHILDREN.

                        In our own home of course
    At home we feel! We live here!

THE LOBS.

                                    Just by day!
    By night when you go off to sleep the place
    Is ours!

FIRST LOB.

              But, Christmas Eve, a holiday,
    As guests we welcome you. Our hearth-fire share!

    SECOND AND THIRD LOBS.

    Pray do so! [_With a gesture inviting THE CHILDREN to sit._]

THE CHILDREN.

                Thank you, Lobs! How kind they are. [_All sit._]

BABS.

    I’m Ethel, Babs for short, since I myself
    Was short to start with, when a baby!

FIRST LOB.

                                          Oh,
    I know you, Babs. (Still short sometimes in marks
    At school, I fear! However you mean well!)

BEESWAX.

    Named Janet, Beeswax am I called, because
    So tidy am I!

SECOND LOB.

          [_With a burst of laughter._] Tidy? Ha, ha, ha!
    Behold who overnight fulfills the tasks
    Undone that Beeswax leaves! However well
    You mean, and so I grumble not!

DICK.

                    [_To the THIRD LOB._] And you
    My lessons for me learn, no doubt you’ll say?

THIRD LOB.

    No, Richard, no! My best I do, but you
    Are lazy! Well you mean, however, so
    We’ll let it pass!

DICK.

    [_Listens._] What’s Billy barking for? [_He explains to THE LOBS._]
    Billy’s our dog!

THE LOBS.

          [_Correcting him._] By day! But after dark
    Our dog is Billy!

DICK.

                      Well, your dog or ours,
    Billy is barking! Yet in friendly wise,
    As greeting someone! Listen! [_He starts up._] There are steps
    Upon the stairs, above, and roundabout!

BEESWAX.

    I also hear them! Little footfalls light
    As snowflakes!

BABS.

                Pat-pat-pattering this way
    They come!

                               [_ALL have risen from the hearthrug where
                                 they have been sitting, to listen._]

THE LOBS.

        [_Explaining._] ’Tis but the children of the house
    At play!

THE CHILDREN.

              [_Puzzled._] But we the children of the house
    Are surely!

THE LOBS.

          [_Explaining._] Daytime calls you so! But night
    The gate sets wide for Children of the Past,
    All children that have ever been, to roam
    At pleasure, enter where they will!

BEESWAX.

              [_Clasping her hands in ecstasy._] In here
    Their little feet have sometimes wandered? Oh,
    I wish ... Oh, how I wish that I might see,
    Might speak with, play with them!

FIRST LOB.

                                        Call them by name!
    If lovingly, I’ll answer for ’t, they’ll come!

BABS.

    I’ll choose!

DICK.

    No. I will!

BEESWAX.

                    I spoke first! Oh, hush! [_She listens._]
    Fleeing, their footsteps turn the other way!
    Oh, Children, stay!

SECOND LOB.

                        Never where wrangling jars
    They enter. Only where love reigns!

BABS.

                                        Then I
    Give up to Beeswax.

BEESWAX.

                          I to Dick!

DICK.

                                      And I
    To both!... Well, just to start the game.... Here goes
    For playmates: boys!

BABS AND BEESWAX.

    [_Clapping hands with delight._] That’s it; just playmates: girls!

                               [_CHILDREN OF THE PAST, of many
                                 nationalities, peep forth from
                                 under beds, chairs, tables; from
                                 behind curtains, screens and doors,
                                 crying, “Here we are! Come, catch us,
                                 if you can!”_]

BABS, BEESWAX, AND DICK.

    [_Running toward them._] O Children, come and play with us!

                               [_But the CHILDREN OF THE PAST disappear
                                 whenever THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN draw
                                 close to them. The latter exclaim,
                                 disappointed_:]

    Oh, they’ve gone!

THIRD LOB.

    Wait! Yonder comes one!

                               [_He points toward the screen from behind
                                 which emerges a fair little lad, about
                                 DICK’S age, in a blue smock and
                                 barefooted._]

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

                [_Delighted._] Oh, a little boy!

THE VISITOR.

    [_Introducing himself._] Son to the weaver by the Olive Gate
    In Genoa, Colombo. Named am I
    For Saint Cristoforo!

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

                [_Excited._] ’Tis Christopher Columbus! Oh-oh-h-h!

BABS.

    [_Hospitably._] Pray rest yourself! Do take this easy chair!
    How weary must you be for centuries
    Standing upon a monument!

BEESWAX.

                               [_Assisting COLUMBUS to climb into the
                                 chair that BABS draws up._]

    Somehow I always think of you as middle-aged!

COLUMBUS.

    [_Bursting into laughter._] Me middle-aged! Me on a monument!

                            [_Then becoming suddenly grave._]

    But keep your eye on me! I’ll get there yet!

DICK.

    Why don’t you speak Italian?

COLUMBUS.

          [_Staring with surprise._] So I do!

FIRST LOB.

    [_Explains._] At fairy-parties everybody speaks
    One language!

COLUMBUS.

    [_Jumping up and down in the chair._] What a jolly chair! Hurrah.
    A caravel riding the waves it seems!
    Come close! [_He beckons._] I’ll whisper you my secret! When
    Grown up am I no carding wool for me!
    I mean to be a sailor!

                               [_THE CHILDREN clap hands delighted, and
                                 cry, “Bravo, Christopher!”_]

                            Round the world,
    The round, round world around I’ll sail! From Court
    To Court I’ll begging go till Queens and Kings
    Help make my dreams come true!

                               [_A BOY and GIRL in the Court dress of
                                 Spain enter, hand in hand, as if having
                                 heard themselves summoned._]

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

    [_Sing._] These royal children hand in hand
    From olden time and far-off land
    Are Isabel and Ferdinand—
        ’Tis plain as plain can be!

ISABEL AND FERDINAND.

    [_Sing._] We’re Isabel and Ferdinand!
        ’Tis plain as plain can be!

COLUMBUS.

    [_Sings._] O Ferdinand and Isabel,
    Your jewels pray you pawn or sell
    To fit me out a caravel
        That I may go to sea!

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

    [_Sing._] Aye; fit him out a caravel
        That he may go to sea!

COLUMBUS.

    [_Making a telescope of his hands, sings._]
    This world of ours is growing old.
    And by the sunset’s gateway gold
    A brand-new world can I behold
        As plain as plain can be!

ALL.

    [_Making telescopes of their hands, sing._]
    A brand-new world can he behold
        As plain as plain can be!

ISABEL AND FERDINAND.

    [_Sing._] Brave lad, your prayer is not in vain.
    When king are we and queen of Spain
    We’ll send you speeding o’er the main
        To find that new world’s key!

THE OTHERS.

    [_Sing, dancing._]
        They’ll send him speeding o’er the main
            To find that new world’s key!

                               [_FERDINAND, ISABELLA and COLUMBUS retire
                                 to a corner to discuss their plans. DICK
                                 joins them. THE LOBS busy themselves
                                 shaking up the cushions of the easy chair
                                 and setting the room in order._]

BABS.

    [_To BEESWAX._] Girls, fairy-story playmates let us call:
    Red Riding Hood and Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty ...
      all the rest!

BEESWAX.

    [_Echoing the wish._] Yes, yes! O fairy-story playmates, come to life!

                               [_Again CHILDREN peer forth from shadowy
                                 hiding-places, calling, “Here we are!
                                 Come, catch us if you can!” The two
                                 little girls try to catch these fairy
                                 visitors, who, however, always elude
                                 them._]

BABS.

    [_Grieved._] They mocking flee us though we love them so!

BEESWAX.

    [_Grieved._] O Children! One ... if only one would stay!

                               [_A little girl whom we will call THE
                                 ROSE-GIRL enters, clad in homely
                                 clothes of green, with a large
                                 flower-like sunbonnet._]

THE ROSE-GIRL.

    Well; here I am!

BABS.

                      Now who may this be, pray?

THE ROSE-GIRL.

    Anon I heard you summon me by name,
    And though tucked safely in my wintry bed
    I dressed myself as quickly as I could
    And clambered to your window as I do
    In June! What, don’t you know me?

BEESWAX.

    [_Struggling with some remembrance._] Wait! Your clothes
    Of leaf-like green ... and sunbonneted like
    A petal’d flower ... and sweet-scented.... Oh,
    Of course I know you!

BABS.

                            So do I! Welcome,
    O rose of summer!

BEESWAX.

    Welcome, summer rose!

                               [_THE ROSE-GIRL laughs for pleasure and
                                 returns the kisses with which the two
                                 little girls greet her._]

BABS.

    But all the same, and though I love you well
    You’re not a princess from a fairy-book!

THE ROSE-GIRL.

    Oh, but I am! The earth’s great wonder-book
    The story tells of Sleeping-Beauty! [_She sings._]

THE SONG OF THE SLEEPING BEAUTY ROSE.

    We flowers never die!
    All tucked abed we lie
      Through our long winter trance,
    Till comes a sunbeam bright,
    A golden-armoured knight,
      With golden lance!

    Our icy bonds he breaks;
    Our comrade-birds he wakes,
      And lights our darkened room,
    As with a kiss he cries,
    “O flowers, ope your eyes!
      Come forth and bloom!”

                               [_While the little girls are applauding
                                 the SLEEPING BEAUTY FLOWER’S song a long,
                                 lank boy comes in, lamenting: “My shadow!
                                 I can’t find my shadow! O help me find my
                                 shadow!” All turn to him in surprise,
                                 saying, “Now who may this be, crying for
                                 his shadow, pray?”_]

THE SHADOWLESS BOY.

    [_Explaining._] I’m Peter, son to that Schlemihl who sold
    His shadow to the Evil One! Since when
    His name who answer to fare shadowless!

BABS.

    Poor boy! Draw near the hearth and warm yourself!

PETER SCHLEMIHL.

    [_Shrinking back._] I dare not, lest its glow should show my lack
    Of full equipment! Nightly thus I roam,
    Seeking if someone has not cast away
    A worn-out shadow that could be patched up
    To fit me!

BEESWAX.

    O poor Peter! See! Here’s mine!

                               [_She stands so that the hearth-glow throws
                                 her shadow on the wall._]

    Do take it for a Christmas present!

PETER SCHLEMIHL.

    [_Looks at the shadow, then shakes his head._] Kind
    The thought, but think how funny I should look,
    A long, lank boy, when walking heel to heel
    With the dark pattern of small, plump maid!

DICK.

    Now what a fuss to make about a thing
    That is not anything: a shadow!

PETER SCHLEMIHL.

                                    Oh,
    You think so, do you? Try it then and see!

                               [_He recites or sings._]

THE LAMENT OF THE SHADOWLESS BOY.

    When from a cloud the sun
    Peeps forth I frightened run
        The city through,
    While throwing stones with jeering noise
    A shadowed troop of girls and boys
        Pursue!

    In class the master stern
    Says, “Peter, can’t you learn
        To keep the rule,
    And bring your shadow clean and neat,
    All dressed in black from head to feet,
        To school?”

    And so, through all my days
    I shun life’s sunny ways.
        Though cold it be
    ’Tis always pleasant in the shade
    For one without a shadow made,
        Like me!

                               [_While all are applauding this song and
                                 condoling with the singer another boy
                                 enters, short, stocky, with masterful
                                 air._]

THE NEWCOMER.

    Talking of shadows, watch mine grow! Erelong
    Over the map of Europe will it spread
    And spread itself!

FERDINAND.

    [_Hand in hand with ISABEL._] We trust you will keep off
    Our joint dominion, Castile, Aragon!

THE NEWCOMER.

    Paf! Pouf! Your petty realm is but a patch
    On my ambition! Still, I will not come
    Till you yourselves are shadows and no more!

DICK.

    [_Consulting the LOBS._] Who is he: Alexander, Prince Eugene,
    Or Julius Cæsar?

THE LOBS.

    [_Tearing their hair._] Dick, Dick, Dick! O Dick,
    Is it for this we try to clear your brain
    Of cobwebs!

THE NEWCOMER.

    [_To DICK._] Not so far afield, my lad!
    I’m all the generals that ever were
    Rolled into one ... or shall be, when I’m grown!

BABS.

    [_Recognising NAPOLEON._] Napoleon! Or Mr. Bonaparte, perhaps
    I ought to say! I’m charmed to meet you!

NAPOLEON.

                                              So
    You ought to be! Now, all keep silence while
    A piece I speak! I made it up myself,
    Or, rather, ’tis a dream I had! Shorter
    Than I could wish myself, help me to stand
    Upon the table!

                               [_Assisted by the others he clambers up
                                 on the table and recites._]

MY DREAM.

    I dreamed I was a kite
    With, O, the loveliest long tail!
    You should have seen me catch the breeze,
    And, taking flight,
    Sail upward. Sail
    High over houses, trees;
    Over the church steeple,
    While, O, such crowds of people
    Tossed caps, and shouted, “Hip, hurrah!
    Bravo! Well done!”
    While I said, “Bah!
                                                                sun!”
                                                            the
                                                      reach
                                                    I
                                              until
                                          and up,
                                            up,
                      Just watch me mount up,
    Soon I had gone so far,
    The world looked like a tiny ball!
    Yet all was darkness. In the sky
    No moon, no star,
    No sun at all!
    The breeze began to die.
    I felt myself falling
    Down, down. I called, but, calling,
    No answer heard. I seemed a lump
    Of ice and lead
    When I came Bump!
    And wakened up, all snug and warm,
                                      in
                                        my
                                          own
                                              soft,
                                                  white
                                                      bed!

                               [_While his hearers are crowding about
                                 NAPOLEON, applauding him, and assisting
                                 him to climb down from the table, CHILDREN
                                 of many periods and nationalities come
                                 from their hiding-places._]

ONE GROUP.

    [_In Puritan garb._] Prithee, may we enter? Maids are we
    And lads from Plymouth Colony! And this
    Our Indian playmate!

                               [_They introduce an INDIAN CHILD. While
                                 they are being welcomed a fine brave
                                 lad in riding-clothes enters._]

THE YOUTH IN RIDING-CLOTHES.

                              Riding garb
    But ill equips me for society.
    Yet my respects I’d fain in passing pay!

                               [_A smartly dressed LITTLE GIRL IN COLONIAL
                                 COSTUME runs in._]

THE COLONIAL LITTLE GIRL.

    I’m Patsy Dandridge. Please may I come in?

                               [_PATSY is followed by a very plainly
                                 dressed little COUNTRY BOY._]

THE COUNTRY BOY.

    Plain folk from Illinois ... Tom Lincoln’s boy ...
    I’m Abe!

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

    Abe Lincoln, Patsy, and Virginia George,
    Be sure you were expected!

NAPOLEON.

                  [_To GEORGE._] Can you fight?

GEORGE.

    I would not brag, and yet anon I fought ...
    Aye, licked him, too! a lad named Bustle, twice
    My own weight!

NAPOLEON.

    [_Reflectively._] Hm! [_He turns to ABE._] Can _you_ fight?

ABE.

                                  Try me!

NAPOLEON.

                                  [_Laughs._] Not to-night!

                               [_Crowds of CHILDREN now appear from the
                                 shadows._]

THESE NEW CHILDREN.

    O let us in! O Children, let us in!
    So many are we, matter not our names!
    We are just children, born to carry on
    That endless fairy-tale called history!
    Time was when we, like you, on Christmas Eve
    Hung up our stockings for good Santa Claus
    To fill! O let us once again relive
    That happy hour!

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

                      O welcome, welcome all!

BEESWAX.

    Where’s Santa Claus! Why tarries the good saint?

FIRST LOB.

    At midnight is he due! Hark! Even now
    The old clock on the landing clears its throat
    To strike!

                               [_ALL listen. A clock in the house strikes
                                 twelve. Then there is heard a fanfare of
                                 elfin horns mingled with the cheery sound
                                 of approaching sleigh-bells._]

ALL.

    [_Delighted._] He comes! He comes, good Santa Claus!

                               [_A rushing breeze sweeps through the
                                 nursery, as if the window were suddenly
                                 opened, and then closed. The heavy window
                                 curtains part, and SANTA CLAUS appears._]

SANTA CLAUS.

    Well, children! Here I am! And here it seems are you!

                               [_ALL make a rush for the good SAINT,
                                 welcoming him, and preferring their
                                 several petitions: “O welcome, Santa
                                 Claus!... Here’s my stocking! Yonder’s
                                 mine! Mine are on my legs! Did you bring
                                 me a horse? A motor-car I asked for!
                                 Please give me a sword, cocked hat and
                                 uniform, also an army to command!... I
                                 want a doll! Oh, yes; a doll its eyes
                                 that opens, please! A silver thimble.
                                 Bow and arrow and a pair of dancing
                                 shoes!” etc., etc._]

SANTA CLAUS.

    One at a time! One at a time, I say!...
    To each and all one only gift I bring:
    The world!

ALL.

    [_Puzzled._] The world ... a Christmas present?

SANTA CLAUS.

                                      [_Nods kindly._] Aye!
    I’ll show you! Lobs, bring hither pipes and bowl!

                               [_From behind the curtains the LOBS bring
                                 a huge crystal bowl filled with soap-suds
                                 and a tray of pipes._]

THE CHILDREN.

    [_Delighted._] Oh, soap-bubbles! Hip, hip, hurrah! Hurrah!

BEESWAX.

    It was the world you promised us!

SANTA CLAUS.

    [_Taking a huge pipe and blowing bubbles._] And see!
    The world, a perfect sphere, all rainbow-bright,
    Is yours to make, with every breath you draw!

                               [_The CHILDREN have taken pipes and now
                                 blow bubbles._]

CHILDREN.

    O Santa, see my world ... my round, round world,
    My rainbow world!

COLUMBUS.

                        My teacher says the world
    Is flat, but I know better! From the cliffs
    Feluccas watch I, masted caravels,
    Rise from the distance, climbing up a curve!
    You’ll not forget your promise, will you? [_To FERDINAND and ISABEL._]

FERDINAND AND ISABEL.

                                              Trust
    Our honour, Christopher!

GEORGE FROM VIRGINIA.

                            A seaman’s life,
    I trust, my portion, also!... But, how now? [_Blowing bubbles._]
    Red, buff and blue ... the colours mingle, clash!
    The smoke of battle! What! a soldier I! [_Horrified._]
    Why, I can’t spur a horse or whip a dog!
    How then my fellow-creatures could I kill?
    Oh, sir, my lot pray change?

SANTA CLAUS.

                      [_Kindly._] So may I not!
    Wear as becomes a gallant gentleman
    Your sword!

PATSY.

    [_To GEORGE._] I’ll belt it on for you!

THE ROSE-GIRL.

                        [_Blowing bubbles._] A storm
    Passes across my bubble!

SANTA CLAUS.

                              What of that?
    Your rainbow, Rose, will overcome the storm!

PETER SCHLEMIHL.

                               [_Mournfully, blowing bubbles._]

    All bright ... all rainbow-bright my bubbles! Not
    The ghostly semblance of a shadow there!
    Oh, Santa Claus, is there no place to buy
    A shadow misfit, second-hand? Or just
    The raw material from which are spun
    New shadows like umbrellas, parasols,
    For well-dressed children?

SANTA CLAUS.

                                Face the sun
    All fearlessly, good Peter! You will find
    A proper escort shadow in its place ...
    Behind you! Mind you keep it there!

BABS.

                      [_Blowing bubbles._] How bright
    My world! All full of happy smiles!

BEESWAX.

                        [_Blowing bubbles._] And mine ...
    Just like a song at morning!

DICK.

              [_Blowing bubbles._] As for mine,
    It is just the finest ... [_breaks off, sleepily_] ... finest....

SANTA CLAUS.

                               [_Rising as if to end the game._]

    Come, press your glowing bubbles not too far,
    Lest they should break before their time! And now
    I leave you for another year, to build
    A rounded world and keep it rainbow bright!

SEVERAL CHILDREN.

    [_Cry out._] O Santa Claus, our bubbles break unread!
    Like butterflies we chase them, but in vain!
    O tell us what the future holds for us!

SANTA CLAUS.

    I’ll tell you fifty years ... a hundred ... hence!

                               [_He goes toward the curtains, then turns
                                 to say a parting word._]

    The world’s my Christmas present to each child,
    Each child’s my Christmas present to the world!
    Farewell!

                               [_He disappears, the CHILDREN crying after
                                 him, “Farewell, O Santa Claus! Next
                                 Christmas Eve, good Santa Claus, come
                                 next Christmas Eve, good Santa Claus!”
                                 Then there is another rush of breeze
                                 through the nursery, followed by the
                                 fanfare of elfin horns, and the jingle
                                 of departing sleigh-bells._]

THE LOBS.

                               [_Who have been clearing away the pipes and
                                 bowl, now take up their brooms and address
                                 the VISITING CHILDREN._]

    Come, come. ’Tis nearly time for cock to crow!
    So vanish! Not a word! be off with you!

                               [_They sweep the VISITING CHILDREN back
                                 into the shadows whence they came._]

THE VISITING CHILDREN.

    Good-bye, O Children of the present-day!

THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.

    Good-bye! O Children! Come again and soon!

                               [_They become more and more sleepy, and
                                 finally fall down in heavy slumber._]

THE LOBS.

    [_Looking down on them._] Well, on the floor! Untidy, lumpy things!

SOME VISITING CHILDREN.

    [_Peering forth._] Good-bye! Until next Christmas Eve!

THE LOBS.

    [_Chasing these with brooms._] Clear out!
    Get back to history where you belong!

DICK.

    [_In his sleep._] I thought I heard voices ... visitors ...
      children ... Santa Claus.

THE LOBS.

    [_Severely._] Nothing of the sort! Here, back with you to bed!

                               [_They take the CHILDREN in hand, dragging
                                 them across the floor, and then are heard
                                 behind the screen, breathing heavily as
                                 they heave them into bed. Just as they
                                 have done this the door is opened, and
                                 the FATHER and MOTHER enter stealthily,
                                 their arms full of Christmas packages._]

THE FATHER.

    Hush! Don’t wake them!

THE MOTHER.

                            Do not wake them! Hush!
    Tread lightly!

THE FATHER.

                    Careful, lest you wake them!

BOTH.

                                        HUSH!

THE LOBS.

    [_Come from behind the screen._] Hush! Do not wake them!

THE MOTHER.

                      [_Turns._] What was that? I thought
    Someone said Hush! [_THE LOBS conceal themselves._]

THE FATHER.

                      ’Twas you yourself said Hush!

THE MOTHER.

    Oh, hush! You’ll wake them!

THE FATHER.

          [_Tiptoes toward the beds._] Sound asleep as when
    I kissed them all good-night!

THE MOTHER.

          [_Tiptoes toward beds._] All sound asleep
    As when I sang them off to sleep! And, see!
    Their precious little stockings all a-row!

THE FATHER.

    [_Proudly._] And not so little either! Children grow
    Like weeds! God bless them!

THE MOTHER.

                          Aye, God bless them!

BOTH.

                                                  Hush!

                               [_They put some gifts into the stockings,
                                 and lay the others in three piles on the
                                 hearthrug. THE LOBS stealing forth, assist
                                 them, though without being discovered.
                                 This done, the FATHER and MOTHER give a
                                 parting glance toward the beds._]

THE MOTHER.

    The pretty dears!

THE FATHER.

                      Of course our geese are swans!

BOTH.

    SH!

                               [_An arm about her THE FATHER leads the
                                 MOTHER softly from the room._]

THE LOBS.

    [_Laughing, imitate them._] SH! [_Then, sweeping up the room, they
      sing softly_:]
          Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere!
          Lob sweep the hearth, Lob mend the toys,
          Lob do the tasks of girls and boys!
          Who would not be a lob like me,
          A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!

                               [_A streak of daylight makes its way
                                 between the window-curtains, and a
                                 distant cock-crow is heard, whereupon
                                 the LOBS hastily shoulder brooms, salute
                                 us as we sit in the audience, and vanish
                                 as the play is ended and the curtains
                                 close upon the scene._]

THE END



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74498 ***