Two Gentlemen of Soho
MAY, 1927
BY A. P. HERBERT
(It now appears that Shakespeare is best when played in modern clothes. Perhaps the themes of modern life would be better dressed in Shakespearean costume? Some may think the play wordy, but there are brutes who think Shakespeare wordy. The acting version is certainly shorter, though much less beautiful.)
CHARACTERS
THE DUCHESS OF CANTERBURY
LADY LÆTITIA, her daughter
HUBERT, her dancing partner
LORD WITHERS
TOPSY
SNEAK, a private detective
PLUM, a public detective
A WAITER
SCENE: A night club. Three tables. The middle table empty. TOPSY, reading a book, at Table One. PLUM, suspicious, at Table Three. Music in the ballroom, off.
PLUM HO, girl, look up! A goblet of champagne?
TOPSY I thank you, no. Indeed, ’t is after hours.
(Returns to book)
PLUM (downcast — aside)
I am an officer from Scotland Yard,
Dressed in the likeness of an English lord,
And night by night, while seven weeks swung by,
Have I to this lewd haunt made pilgrimage
In search of some irregularity,
Cheating an entrance with a lusty lie
(But all’s forgiven in a noble cause),
Sometimes disguisèd as a gentleman,
And sometimes in the costume of a virgin. But nothing happens. I have offered bribes,
I have been suppliant for sweet wine or opium
After the hours by Parliament provided,
But like the fabulous Mongolian drop
Of water, on strong rock forever falling,
I have made no impression. I believe
There is no falsehood practised here but mine,
There is no jot nor tittle of the law
By these respectable impostors broken.
Well, this is hard. Only the dear old Duchess
Has with my bitterness some sweet compounded
Of nimble dances and beguiling looks.
But she engagèd with another is.
So, gentle sleep, upon my eyelids press,
And let me wake to catch some wickedness.
Dressed in the likeness of an English lord,
And night by night, while seven weeks swung by,
Have I to this lewd haunt made pilgrimage
In search of some irregularity,
Cheating an entrance with a lusty lie
(But all’s forgiven in a noble cause),
Sometimes disguisèd as a gentleman,
And sometimes in the costume of a virgin. But nothing happens. I have offered bribes,
I have been suppliant for sweet wine or opium
After the hours by Parliament provided,
But like the fabulous Mongolian drop
Of water, on strong rock forever falling,
I have made no impression. I believe
There is no falsehood practised here but mine,
There is no jot nor tittle of the law
By these respectable impostors broken.
Well, this is hard. Only the dear old Duchess
Has with my bitterness some sweet compounded
Of nimble dances and beguiling looks.
But she engagèd with another is.
So, gentle sleep, upon my eyelids press,
And let me wake to catch some wickedness.
(Sleeps. Music)
(Enter LADY LÆTITIAand LORD WITHERS.They sit at Table Two)
LÆTITIA What is this place?
WITHERS My dear Lætitia,
I do misdoubt I do it too much honor,
And you too little, by this introduction.
It is a night club. You have seen a stone
Turned by a ploughman on the hills of Kent,
And the foul, creeping, many-leggèd things
Which dart from under, blinking in the light?
So from this den snatch suddenly the lid
Between the midnight and the milkman’s hour,
You will see slink and scutter about Soho
The very dregs and sediment of London.
Here the hot cits of Wimbledon and Streatham
With busy rakes from Kensington combine
In obscene alchemy to make the night
One long invention in debauchery.
Wine, women, drugs —
I do misdoubt I do it too much honor,
And you too little, by this introduction.
It is a night club. You have seen a stone
Turned by a ploughman on the hills of Kent,
And the foul, creeping, many-leggèd things
Which dart from under, blinking in the light?
So from this den snatch suddenly the lid
Between the midnight and the milkman’s hour,
You will see slink and scutter about Soho
The very dregs and sediment of London.
Here the hot cits of Wimbledon and Streatham
With busy rakes from Kensington combine
In obscene alchemy to make the night
One long invention in debauchery.
Wine, women, drugs —
LÆTITIA In that case, Algernon —
Pardon my absurd curiosity,
But what is’t brings you to this hell-hole?
Pardon my absurd curiosity,
But what is’t brings you to this hell-hole?
WITHERS Well,
I am a writer, and as some physician,
Searching the secrets of the human body,
Doth not the healthy but the sick pursue,
And is more happy ’midst unique distempers,
Growths, fevers, tumors, abscesses, and boils
Than with the strong and undefilèd flesh, So in the study of these diseasèd minds
Do I seek knowledge not to be explorèd
In the dull wits of the respectable,
Sucking a sweetness from the poisoned flower,
And, like the wombat, savoring the cheese
When’t is corrupted.
I am a writer, and as some physician,
Searching the secrets of the human body,
Doth not the healthy but the sick pursue,
And is more happy ’midst unique distempers,
Growths, fevers, tumors, abscesses, and boils
Than with the strong and undefilèd flesh, So in the study of these diseasèd minds
Do I seek knowledge not to be explorèd
In the dull wits of the respectable,
Sucking a sweetness from the poisoned flower,
And, like the wombat, savoring the cheese
When’t is corrupted.
LÆTITIA Well, I cannot say
That I see any signs of dissipation.
That I see any signs of dissipation.
WITHERS (indicating TOPSYand PLUM)
Mark then this lout, which in a rustic stupor
Is dead till morning, when it swills again.
Mark too this maiden that with vestal eye
Seems to see nothing but the book she reads not.
Here’s what they call a woman of the half-world —
That is, she is not one thing nor the other,
Dubs herself ‘dancing partner,’ and for hire
She will with any pursy sot that offers
Waltz, fox-trot, Charleston, — the whole catalogue
Of modern antics, — and the evening through
Will counterfeit with some strange stockbroker
A mercenary satisfaction. Pah!
Mark then this lout, which in a rustic stupor
Is dead till morning, when it swills again.
Mark too this maiden that with vestal eye
Seems to see nothing but the book she reads not.
Here’s what they call a woman of the half-world —
That is, she is not one thing nor the other,
Dubs herself ‘dancing partner,’ and for hire
She will with any pursy sot that offers
Waltz, fox-trot, Charleston, — the whole catalogue
Of modern antics, — and the evening through
Will counterfeit with some strange stockbroker
A mercenary satisfaction. Pah!
(Observes dancers off)
And yet some follies may adorn the young
Which to the old must be disfigurement.
How yonder matron wallows in the dance,
A loaded wagon, creaking down the hill
Of years and adiposity! The traffic
Bounds and rebounds unheeded from her flanks
Or, pausing careless in her path, is crushed.
And on her breast is like a pendant hung
A slim, fair, pallid, and perspiring youth
That smiles and smiles and smiles, and is in torture.
How like a milit’ry balloon she looks
That is entangled in an aspen tree!
Do you not think so, dear?
Which to the old must be disfigurement.
How yonder matron wallows in the dance,
A loaded wagon, creaking down the hill
Of years and adiposity! The traffic
Bounds and rebounds unheeded from her flanks
Or, pausing careless in her path, is crushed.
And on her breast is like a pendant hung
A slim, fair, pallid, and perspiring youth
That smiles and smiles and smiles, and is in torture.
How like a milit’ry balloon she looks
That is entangled in an aspen tree!
Do you not think so, dear?
LÆTITIA That is my mother.
WITHERS Is ’t so? So ’t is!
LÆTITIA And that her dancing partner!
WITHERS I never saw her here before, Lætitia!
These hands should quicker have torn out these eyes
Than these harsh lips have spoken, or these legs
Have carried me to these conclu-si-ons! LÆTITIA It is not easy to avoid Mamma.
On summer evenings she is everywhere.
There is no saxophone doth not salute her,
With other mothers rounder than herself,
Like baby elephants that after twilight
Jump in the jungle.
These hands should quicker have torn out these eyes
Than these harsh lips have spoken, or these legs
Have carried me to these conclu-si-ons! LÆTITIA It is not easy to avoid Mamma.
On summer evenings she is everywhere.
There is no saxophone doth not salute her,
With other mothers rounder than herself,
Like baby elephants that after twilight
Jump in the jungle.
WITHERS ’T is the Age of Age.
LÆTITIA How true! Age will be served, and this pale youth
Must for a salary — how much I know not —
The nightly partner of her gambols be.
Oh me, ’t is pitiful to see one’s mother
Go to the dogs!
Must for a salary — how much I know not —
The nightly partner of her gambols be.
Oh me, ’t is pitiful to see one’s mother
Go to the dogs!
WITHERS Weep not, Lætitia,
But let us have a dry Martini. Ho!
But let us have a dry Martini. Ho!
(Enter a WAITER. PLUM wakes up)
PLUM This is a viscount, and I never saw
A lord that did not love to break the law.
A lord that did not love to break the law.
(Watches)
WITHERS Pluck me ten berries from the juniper
And in a beaker of strong barley spirit
The kindly juices of the fruit compress.
This is our Alpha. Next clap on your wings,
Fly south for Italy, nor come you back
Till in the cup you have made prisoner
Two little thimblefuls of that sweet syrup
The Romans call Martini. Pause o’er Paris
And fill two eggshells with the French vermuth.
Then home incontinent, and in one vessel
Cage your three captives, but in nice proportions,
So that no one is master, and the whole
Sweeter than France, but not so sweet as Italy.
Wring from an orange two bright tears, and shake,
Shake a long time the harmonious trinity.
Then in two cups like angels’ ears present them,
And see there swims an olive in the bowl,
Which when the draught is finished shall remain
Like some sad emblem of a perished love.
This is our Omega. Go, fellow!
And in a beaker of strong barley spirit
The kindly juices of the fruit compress.
This is our Alpha. Next clap on your wings,
Fly south for Italy, nor come you back
Till in the cup you have made prisoner
Two little thimblefuls of that sweet syrup
The Romans call Martini. Pause o’er Paris
And fill two eggshells with the French vermuth.
Then home incontinent, and in one vessel
Cage your three captives, but in nice proportions,
So that no one is master, and the whole
Sweeter than France, but not so sweet as Italy.
Wring from an orange two bright tears, and shake,
Shake a long time the harmonious trinity.
Then in two cups like angels’ ears present them,
And see there swims an olive in the bowl,
Which when the draught is finished shall remain
Like some sad emblem of a perished love.
This is our Omega. Go, fellow!
WAITER Sir, It is too late. I cannot serve you.
PLUM Damn!
(Music. Exit WAITER)
WITHERS Oh, that in England might be born a man,
Sprung from the loins of English liberty,
To rise and sweep, twice daily, like old Thames,
In a strong tide ’gainst petty tyrannies;
And though at evening he be beaten back,
Flood in at morning to clean the channel again
Of busy women, and suck out to sea
Bans, prohibitions, interferences,
Movements, societies, government departments,
Such as curtail, diminish, and cut down
The antique privilege of true-born Englishmen
To take their pleasure in what way they please,
When, how, which, where, whatever, and with whom! (Chord)
Was it for this I joined the infantry
And took up arms against a Continent,
To have my eating and my drinking times
Fixed by old maids and governed by policemen?
Sprung from the loins of English liberty,
To rise and sweep, twice daily, like old Thames,
In a strong tide ’gainst petty tyrannies;
And though at evening he be beaten back,
Flood in at morning to clean the channel again
Of busy women, and suck out to sea
Bans, prohibitions, interferences,
Movements, societies, government departments,
Such as curtail, diminish, and cut down
The antique privilege of true-born Englishmen
To take their pleasure in what way they please,
When, how, which, where, whatever, and with whom! (Chord)
Was it for this I joined the infantry
And took up arms against a Continent,
To have my eating and my drinking times
Fixed by old maids and governed by policemen?
(PLUM, with dignity, passes out to ballroom)
I think, were Germany the master here,
We should at least be certain of our beer.
But see, the Duchess finds new company,
In age and form more fitter to her own!
We should at least be certain of our beer.
But see, the Duchess finds new company,
In age and form more fitter to her own!
LÆTITIA It is the fellow who was here asleep.
WITHERS Then I have wronged him, for the man is sober.
LÆTITIA He would not else have undertaken Mother.
(Enter HUBERT, exhausted and mopping his brow. He sinks into a chair beside TOPSY, who sits up and takes notice)
WITHERS And here, like some slim carack long distressed
In the rough storm and tempest of the ocean,
Comes the frail consort of her voyaging,
His sails awrack, his rigging in disorder,
And the proud pennant drooping at the peak!
Thankful, he creeps into the nearest port,
Nor is there barge, punt, fishing boat so humble
He will not gladly berth beside her.
In the rough storm and tempest of the ocean,
Comes the frail consort of her voyaging,
His sails awrack, his rigging in disorder,
And the proud pennant drooping at the peak!
Thankful, he creeps into the nearest port,
Nor is there barge, punt, fishing boat so humble
He will not gladly berth beside her.
TOPSY Sir,
You are distempered, and your breathing labors,
As I have seen some baby grampus pant
After a heavy supper. Why is this?
You are distempered, and your breathing labors,
As I have seen some baby grampus pant
After a heavy supper. Why is this?
HUBERT Oh, it were better to be bound with vipers
To the great stone of Sisyphus, and roll
All day forever up and down the hill, Than to be fastened to a human mountain
Aping the antics of an early lamb!
For one is punishment, pure, unmistaken,
But this — this is the sacrilege of Pleasure.
I do a treason to my youth. I am
Not Sisyphus, not Tantalus, but both!
It were enough to caper with a whale,
Or spin a waltz with a rhinoceros,
But to be jostled in the dance by fairies,
Young, unattainable, locked i’ the arms
Of men not better but more blest than I am,
And on their soft and tantalizing lips
See the slow smile that mocks my servitude —
This is my torture and damna-ti-on!
To the great stone of Sisyphus, and roll
All day forever up and down the hill, Than to be fastened to a human mountain
Aping the antics of an early lamb!
For one is punishment, pure, unmistaken,
But this — this is the sacrilege of Pleasure.
I do a treason to my youth. I am
Not Sisyphus, not Tantalus, but both!
It were enough to caper with a whale,
Or spin a waltz with a rhinoceros,
But to be jostled in the dance by fairies,
Young, unattainable, locked i’ the arms
Of men not better but more blest than I am,
And on their soft and tantalizing lips
See the slow smile that mocks my servitude —
This is my torture and damna-ti-on!
(Is overcome)
TOPSY Be easy, sir. This is my own employment.
I too must foot it and be gay for gold
With such as can get nobody for nothing.
I too must foot it and be gay for gold
With such as can get nobody for nothing.
HUBERT Aye, but with many. I am bound to one.
TOPSY Life is a most extraordinary thing.
HUBERT Man, like a pebble on a glacier,
Moves imperceptibly, but always down.
Moves imperceptibly, but always down.
TOPSY Life is a looking-glass, in which we see
Only the dull reflection of ourselves,
And every day ’t is less attractive.
Only the dull reflection of ourselves,
And every day ’t is less attractive.
HUBERT Come,
This is no time for dismal metaphor!
My monster’s busy. While I have the chance,
Come, fellow slave, console me in the dance!
(They get up, get out, and get off. Music)
This is no time for dismal metaphor!
My monster’s busy. While I have the chance,
Come, fellow slave, console me in the dance!
(They get up, get out, and get off. Music)
WITHERS I think between them there’s a seed of love
Which shall grow up into a goodly tree. (Kneels)
And you, Lætitia, so frosty-proud,
Like to those castles of cold loveliness
Which scare the shipping on the North Atlantic,
So that old captains sniff the sky and mutter,
‘There is an iceberg sixty miles away.’
Hushed are the passengers, and no more now
The merry quoit rings lightly on the deck,
But when the wonder bursts upon the view
Fear is forgotten. O Lætitia,
You are so beautiful that I am bold And dare defy the miracle with wooing.
Will you not swim a moment in the sun
Of my affection — from the Arctic waters
Of dumb indifference drift southward soon,
Hang in the middle latitudes, and then
Melt into matrimony? Oh, I know
’T is not the mode to speak of marrying,
And this warm sentiment which now inflames me
Is but a mock and madness to the young.
No more the sweet confusions of the simple,
Rings, tokens, pledges, clutchings of the hands,
Partings and moons and memories, are holy.
Nay, I have heard some yearling split his sides
At roses clustered round a cottage door,
Or the fond statement of a Negro’s passion.
For now is devotion the stale jest of fools,
And that wild ecstasy the poets sang
Is but a livelihood and theme for doctors,
Policemen, clowns, and psychoanalysts,
While he that boldly on his knees professes
A fixed affection for a single person
Calls down the cackle of the continents.
Yet, though to speak these shameful syllables
Names me a ninny, feeble in the mind,
In soul suburban — will you marry me?
Which shall grow up into a goodly tree. (Kneels)
And you, Lætitia, so frosty-proud,
Like to those castles of cold loveliness
Which scare the shipping on the North Atlantic,
So that old captains sniff the sky and mutter,
‘There is an iceberg sixty miles away.’
Hushed are the passengers, and no more now
The merry quoit rings lightly on the deck,
But when the wonder bursts upon the view
Fear is forgotten. O Lætitia,
You are so beautiful that I am bold And dare defy the miracle with wooing.
Will you not swim a moment in the sun
Of my affection — from the Arctic waters
Of dumb indifference drift southward soon,
Hang in the middle latitudes, and then
Melt into matrimony? Oh, I know
’T is not the mode to speak of marrying,
And this warm sentiment which now inflames me
Is but a mock and madness to the young.
No more the sweet confusions of the simple,
Rings, tokens, pledges, clutchings of the hands,
Partings and moons and memories, are holy.
Nay, I have heard some yearling split his sides
At roses clustered round a cottage door,
Or the fond statement of a Negro’s passion.
For now is devotion the stale jest of fools,
And that wild ecstasy the poets sang
Is but a livelihood and theme for doctors,
Policemen, clowns, and psychoanalysts,
While he that boldly on his knees professes
A fixed affection for a single person
Calls down the cackle of the continents.
Yet, though to speak these shameful syllables
Names me a ninny, feeble in the mind,
In soul suburban — will you marry me?
LÆTITIA I am too much upset about my dam.
I think I shall not marry anyone,
But take my mother to a nunnery
And there with a little needlework convert her
From the vain fancies of the world. But look!
I would not have her see me. Let us fetch
A circuit to the ballroom, and from there
Play spy to the event.
WITHERS It shall be so.
(They go off, right. Enter, left, the DUCHESS, with PLUM. Fairy music)
PLUM I hope, Your Grace, I have not wearied you?
DUCHESS There are the wings of swallows on your feet
And in your arms the potency of lions.
It is not dancing when I dance with you —
I have no mind, no body; I am nothing
But a swift ghost that soars a prisoner
In the embraces of a flying bear.
PLUM It is a pleasure to give satisfaction.
DUCHESS Are you a member?
PLUM Duchess, I am not.
DUCHESS Then with what member — nay, in this poor house
What member moves with such a dignity,
Hath such a grace and nimbleness of wit,
That he dare vouch for such a visitor?
What member moves with such a dignity,
Hath such a grace and nimbleness of wit,
That he dare vouch for such a visitor?
PLUM I did not come with any, but alone.
DUCHESS Is not a member, yet alone he came.
Strange!
Strange!
(Chord. Enter SNEAK, cloaked and masked. Chord)
SNEAK (darkly — apart)
So. She’s there. And this gross gentleman
Should be that paramour my daughter spoke of,
The constant prop of ducal indiscretion.
I will lie close and watch the giddy scene.
Waiter!
Should be that paramour my daughter spoke of,
The constant prop of ducal indiscretion.
I will lie close and watch the giddy scene.
Waiter!
WAITER What would you?
SNEAK I am a detective —
Nay, do not tremble! Not His Majesty’s,
But the sworn servant of an agency
Skilled to pursue, see, tabulate, record,
And in the courts most cunningly describe
All the sly naughtiness of faithless wives,
Or peccant husbands, as the case may be;
Looks, nods, and greetings, holding-on of hands
After the space by decency commanded,
Meetings and partings, secret matinées,
The sigh drawn upward or the blinds drawn down,
Gifts, letters, notes — But are you listening?
Nay, do not tremble! Not His Majesty’s,
But the sworn servant of an agency
Skilled to pursue, see, tabulate, record,
And in the courts most cunningly describe
All the sly naughtiness of faithless wives,
Or peccant husbands, as the case may be;
Looks, nods, and greetings, holding-on of hands
After the space by decency commanded,
Meetings and partings, secret matinées,
The sigh drawn upward or the blinds drawn down,
Gifts, letters, notes — But are you listening?
WAITER Aye.
SNEAK Well, His Grace the Duke of Canterbury
Has of our house required information
Touching the acts, deeds, conduct, and behavior
Of that loose elephant he calls his wife.
Whether in truth he doth suspect her virtue,
Whether the wish was father to the thought
And the old dog would find some cause for parting
Such as himself he doth not dare to furnish,
I cannot tell you. But I do persever Here is the reason, cause, and circumstance
Why I sit here instead of somewhere else;
And now that all lies naked as the noon
In the hot deserts of Australia,
Nor doth one leaf of artful stratagem,
Lies, counterfeit, deception, subterfuge,
Ingenious accent, or oblique suggestion
O’er the bare truth project one inch of shadow,
And if there be a person here alive
Who doth not now know better than his mother
My name, my calling, and my secret business,
Then it were better for the loon to be
Boiled in ammonia till his wits return.
Well, if all’s clear, known, plain, and manifest,
Then there is nothing I would say but this:
What I should like would be a spot of whiskey.
Has of our house required information
Touching the acts, deeds, conduct, and behavior
Of that loose elephant he calls his wife.
Whether in truth he doth suspect her virtue,
Whether the wish was father to the thought
And the old dog would find some cause for parting
Such as himself he doth not dare to furnish,
I cannot tell you. But I do persever Here is the reason, cause, and circumstance
Why I sit here instead of somewhere else;
And now that all lies naked as the noon
In the hot deserts of Australia,
Nor doth one leaf of artful stratagem,
Lies, counterfeit, deception, subterfuge,
Ingenious accent, or oblique suggestion
O’er the bare truth project one inch of shadow,
And if there be a person here alive
Who doth not now know better than his mother
My name, my calling, and my secret business,
Then it were better for the loon to be
Boiled in ammonia till his wits return.
Well, if all’s clear, known, plain, and manifest,
Then there is nothing I would say but this:
What I should like would be a spot of whiskey.
PLUM (hearing, characteristically, last line only, pricks up ears) Now surely shall some misdemeanor follow!
DUCHESS They say the antelope on summer nights
Halts at the margin of the stream to drink.
Halts at the margin of the stream to drink.
PLUM Fellow, we thirst ! Bring port and lemonade!
WAITER God made the lemon and the grape together,
But man, milady, has divided them,
And at this hour, by our wise Parliament,
The lemon’s lawful, but the grape’s a crime.
But man, milady, has divided them,
And at this hour, by our wise Parliament,
The lemon’s lawful, but the grape’s a crime.
DUCHESS (unstrung)
What is this talk of Parliaments and lemons?
Am I a Duchess, to be fed on lemons?
Was there not somebody who died of lemons?
Did none arrest him nor none prosecute?
Is there no law against excessive lemons,
Or too much sugar, or intemperate tea,
Or the vile craving for hot-water bottles?
What! Lemons? Parliaments? As I’m a Duchess,
Bring me the article!
Am I a Duchess, to be fed on lemons?
Was there not somebody who died of lemons?
Did none arrest him nor none prosecute?
Is there no law against excessive lemons,
Or too much sugar, or intemperate tea,
Or the vile craving for hot-water bottles?
What! Lemons? Parliaments? As I’m a Duchess,
Bring me the article!
WAITER (cowed) It shall be done.
(He takes bottle of port from pocket and places it on table)
PLUM Ho! Bar the doors! Sound the alarm without!
(Exit WAITER)
Let none make entrance or emergencies!
(Enter LÆTITIA, LORD WITHERS, TOPSY, and HUBERT)
WITHERS What’s here?
LÆTITIA How ?
TOPSY So!
HUBERT What is’t?
SNEAK Ha!
DUCHESS Who are you, sir? (Picture)
PLUM I am the Metropolitan Police,
And this my warrant. Let a trumpet sound! (Chord)
And this my warrant. Let a trumpet sound! (Chord)
DUCHESS Oh, viper!
HUBERT Judas!
LÆTITIA Mother!
DUCHESS Oh, my daughter! (Sobs)
PLUM Oh, it is anguish for a horse to suffer
The opposing reins of office and affection,
Which right and left distract the tender mind!
But this no Englishman has done, nor shall:
Make duty servant to his inclinations.
Take you these papers and at once write down
Your names and callings, titles, dignities,
Estates and mansions, orders, decorations,
Whether in wedlock you be joined or no,
How many children, houses, wives, convictions,
With all such details and appendages
As shall be pertinent. And in the morning
At Bow Street presently make apparition.
Now to your homes go softly.
The opposing reins of office and affection,
Which right and left distract the tender mind!
But this no Englishman has done, nor shall:
Make duty servant to his inclinations.
Take you these papers and at once write down
Your names and callings, titles, dignities,
Estates and mansions, orders, decorations,
Whether in wedlock you be joined or no,
How many children, houses, wives, convictions,
With all such details and appendages
As shall be pertinent. And in the morning
At Bow Street presently make apparition.
Now to your homes go softly.
DUCHESS Oh, the shame!
HUBERT I will not!
WITHERS Insolent!
LÆTITIA My mother!
SNEAK HOLD!
PLUM Who’s this that rudely doth resist the tide
Of our proceedings?
Of our proceedings?
SNEAK I am a detective,
Now by the Duke of Canterbury charged
To see, watch, notice, and at dawn discover
The nightly conduct of this noblewoman.
Now by the Duke of Canterbury charged
To see, watch, notice, and at dawn discover
The nightly conduct of this noblewoman.
DUCHESS NOW open, earth, and hide me!
SNEAK ‘Sneak,’ said he,
‘Good, honest Sneak, if you have any skill
Or any pity for a poor old man,
Find me that snake and serpent in the grass
Which hath drawn off my Duchess from her duty,
So that in naughtiness and vain delights
She doth dishonor the evening of our days
And utterly neglects the housekeeping.
Find me this worm, good Sneak, that I may split him!’
Thus the old Duke, with bloody, fearful oaths,
Cleaning a pistol by his lonely bed
Or whetting some great knife upon a stone;
And thus at daybreak shall I answer him:
‘Duke, he is found, your ravisher of homes,
Snake in the grass and cuckoo in the nest,
A little, round, unpleasant, portly thing
Which crawls, part trespasser and part policeman,
Into the childish revels of the rich,
Toys with their wives and tramples on their toes,
Eats of their salt and presently arrests them
For some sly spinster’s quibble in the law,
And while he smiles contaminates the air
With artful ruse and mean suspi-ci-on;
Will call for wine to catch a flunky out,
And drink with women only to denounce them.
This, Duke, is he that, doubly double-faced,
Has the pure spirit of your wife corrupted,
Night after night, entwinèd in the dance,
Which I with evidence can justify.
This scheming, slow, constabulary lump,
This is your libertine and co-respondent !’
‘Good, honest Sneak, if you have any skill
Or any pity for a poor old man,
Find me that snake and serpent in the grass
Which hath drawn off my Duchess from her duty,
So that in naughtiness and vain delights
She doth dishonor the evening of our days
And utterly neglects the housekeeping.
Find me this worm, good Sneak, that I may split him!’
Thus the old Duke, with bloody, fearful oaths,
Cleaning a pistol by his lonely bed
Or whetting some great knife upon a stone;
And thus at daybreak shall I answer him:
‘Duke, he is found, your ravisher of homes,
Snake in the grass and cuckoo in the nest,
A little, round, unpleasant, portly thing
Which crawls, part trespasser and part policeman,
Into the childish revels of the rich,
Toys with their wives and tramples on their toes,
Eats of their salt and presently arrests them
For some sly spinster’s quibble in the law,
And while he smiles contaminates the air
With artful ruse and mean suspi-ci-on;
Will call for wine to catch a flunky out,
And drink with women only to denounce them.
This, Duke, is he that, doubly double-faced,
Has the pure spirit of your wife corrupted,
Night after night, entwinèd in the dance,
Which I with evidence can justify.
This scheming, slow, constabulary lump,
This is your libertine and co-respondent !’
PLUM (enraged, takes truncheon from trousers) Peace, caitiff!
SNEAK Ha!
PLUM Thou dog of Houndsditch!
DUCHESS Oh! (They fight. Hurry music)
SNEAK What, bully?
PLUM Sot!
SNEAK Hog!
PLUM Bastard!
DUCHESS Oh! I swoon!
SNEAK Ah, would you?
WITHERS Peace!
LÆTITIA Oh, gentlemen!
PLUM Die, villain! (SNEAK dies. Chord)
TOPSY (prostrates self on body of SNEAK)
Oh, sir, you have killed my father! Why was this?
I had no life, no being, but in him,
And, now he’s not, I am not either. Oh!
I had no life, no being, but in him,
And, now he’s not, I am not either. Oh!
(Dies of grief. Chord)
HUBERT (kneels beside body of TOPSY)
Oh, Topsy, Topsy, could you not have waited?
I did not think that you would leave me thus,
Without one word nor tender beckoning
To bid me follow you. Yet I will follow,
And make one date of all eternity.
I did not think that you would leave me thus,
Without one word nor tender beckoning
To bid me follow you. Yet I will follow,
And make one date of all eternity.
(He strikes self on head until truncheon and dies. Chord)
PLUM This was an issue not to be expected.
WITHERS Yet I have heard some countryman remark,
Clapping the swallows from a field of corn,
‘It is not seldom, in the course of nature,
After a drought not in light showers only
Falls and descends the gentle rain of heaven,
But in a spate and tempest.’
Clapping the swallows from a field of corn,
‘It is not seldom, in the course of nature,
After a drought not in light showers only
Falls and descends the gentle rain of heaven,
But in a spate and tempest.’
PLUM But what’s here?
DUCHESS (kneeling)
Now, earth, receive me, for I die of shame!
WITHERS (a part)
What does this bode?
LÆTITIA She spoke of death.
WITHERS I heard her.
LÆTITIA This must be hindered.
WITHERS Aye.
PLUM But mark what follows!
DUCHESS Farewell to revelry, farewell the dance,
And the gay trappings of my second youth!
Farewell the music, — and, sweet saxophone,
Thou art not music, yet I wish thee well, —
With all late suppers and hot gala nights,
The colored streamer and the blue balloon,
Fans, rattles, dolls, and India-rubber dogs,
And wicked kippers eaten in the dawn,
And those fierce rhythmic and delicious tunes
Which light a fever in the veins and set
The feet, the soul, fermenting— fare you well!
Oh, it is selfish in the young to grudge us
The little joys of our declining days!
Have they not Love and Happiness their servants,
And must all Pleasure bow to them as well?
This were ungenerous. And I think in Heaven,
If there be saxophones as well as harps,
They are not only for the young. But here
I shall not see a gala night again.
And the gay trappings of my second youth!
Farewell the music, — and, sweet saxophone,
Thou art not music, yet I wish thee well, —
With all late suppers and hot gala nights,
The colored streamer and the blue balloon,
Fans, rattles, dolls, and India-rubber dogs,
And wicked kippers eaten in the dawn,
And those fierce rhythmic and delicious tunes
Which light a fever in the veins and set
The feet, the soul, fermenting— fare you well!
Oh, it is selfish in the young to grudge us
The little joys of our declining days!
Have they not Love and Happiness their servants,
And must all Pleasure bow to them as well?
This were ungenerous. And I think in Heaven,
If there be saxophones as well as harps,
They are not only for the young. But here
I shall not see a gala night again.
(Dies of shame. Fairy music)
LÆTITIA Oh, she is dead!
WITHERS Life, like a butterfly,
Hath from the window of this flesh departed.
I think I never did nor never shall
See any woman so impeccable.
She was a person of extreme distinction,
She had discretion, grace, nobility,
Beauty and strength, taste, wit, intelligence,
Was kind to animals, by children worshiped;
I think I never saw a woman —
Hath from the window of this flesh departed.
I think I never did nor never shall
See any woman so impeccable.
She was a person of extreme distinction,
She had discretion, grace, nobility,
Beauty and strength, taste, wit, intelligence,
Was kind to animals, by children worshiped;
I think I never saw a woman —
LÆTITIA Peace!
Mother, shall any other lips but mine
Tell the long catalogue of your great virtues?
I was your child, and if in anything
From the straight furrow of the good you strayed,
I do accuse myself. I should have told you The snares and dangers of this wicked world,
And nursed you always with a daughter’s love.
For you were too much guarded in your youth,
And knew not everything, as we know now,
Who by experience of all temptation
Against temptation are inoculated;
But you, poor innocent, were an easy prey.
The first shrill saxophone that squeaked in London
Was your undoing. And where’er you be,
Whether’t is harps or saxophones or timbrels
That now make mischief in your neighborhood,
You shall not face that music quite alone.
Mother, shall any other lips but mine
Tell the long catalogue of your great virtues?
I was your child, and if in anything
From the straight furrow of the good you strayed,
I do accuse myself. I should have told you The snares and dangers of this wicked world,
And nursed you always with a daughter’s love.
For you were too much guarded in your youth,
And knew not everything, as we know now,
Who by experience of all temptation
Against temptation are inoculated;
But you, poor innocent, were an easy prey.
The first shrill saxophone that squeaked in London
Was your undoing. And where’er you be,
Whether’t is harps or saxophones or timbrels
That now make mischief in your neighborhood,
You shall not face that music quite alone.
(Dies of remorse. Chord)
WITHERS Thou too, Lætitia, art thou dead?
PLUM She is.
WITHERS Then there is no more virtue in the world!
Fire hath no heat, and the congealèd sun
Swims like a frozen orange in the sky;
There is not any meaning anywhere,
And to no purpose the great stars revolve!
O my dear Tish, unique Lætitia,
I will not in this wilderness delay,
Where, without you, I am the one thing living,
Like some lone seaman left upon an island,
Who beats his head against an emptiness
And so goes mad. Give me the knife! I die!
Fire hath no heat, and the congealèd sun
Swims like a frozen orange in the sky;
There is not any meaning anywhere,
And to no purpose the great stars revolve!
O my dear Tish, unique Lætitia,
I will not in this wilderness delay,
Where, without you, I am the one thing living,
Like some lone seaman left upon an island,
Who beats his head against an emptiness
And so goes mad. Give me the knife! I die!
(Stabs self and dies. Chord)
PLUM This is a most strange consequence and finish
Of one quite simple action. Ho! Without!
Of one quite simple action. Ho! Without!
(Enter WAITER)
Where are the officers of this society?
WAITER Sir, they are drinking.
PLUM Then disturb them not,
But with all speed call ministers and surgeons.
Reverently then these bodies disentangle
And in two chambers decently dispose them,
Not in one vague and ill-considered heap,
As men store pheasants, cock and hen together,
But with due awe distinguishing the sexes.
And this poor body, which shall top the pile,
Cause in a cylinder to be cremated
Not far from Winchester, where I was born.
This is the end. Go, fellow! I have done.
But with all speed call ministers and surgeons.
Reverently then these bodies disentangle
And in two chambers decently dispose them,
Not in one vague and ill-considered heap,
As men store pheasants, cock and hen together,
But with due awe distinguishing the sexes.
And this poor body, which shall top the pile,
Cause in a cylinder to be cremated
Not far from Winchester, where I was born.
This is the end. Go, fellow! I have done.
WAITER Sir, from my birth I was a nervous child,
This way and that swung weakly by suggestion,
And could not see my fellow creatures weep
But I must echo them with noisy tears.
Speak of an earthquake, and I fly the house;
Hang o’er the bulwarks, I am sick myself.
And now, i’ the presence of these diminished figures,
By their own act, I take it, brought to nought,
I feel the prickings of mortality.
Thoughts of destruction, fatal inclinations,
Throng in my arteries —
This way and that swung weakly by suggestion,
And could not see my fellow creatures weep
But I must echo them with noisy tears.
Speak of an earthquake, and I fly the house;
Hang o’er the bulwarks, I am sick myself.
And now, i’ the presence of these diminished figures,
By their own act, I take it, brought to nought,
I feel the prickings of mortality.
Thoughts of destruction, fatal inclinations,
Throng in my arteries —
PLUM It is enough.
I see far off the goal to which you stumble.
Die, and have done with it, for I am waiting.
I see far off the goal to which you stumble.
Die, and have done with it, for I am waiting.
(WAITER knocks head thrice on floor and dies. Chord)
Now do the morning and the evening meet
To kiss the midnight in the noon of death.
To kiss the midnight in the noon of death.
(Stabs self. Music)
Now is the circle of our questionings
Completed in an equilateral triangle,
Whereof, like children in a labyrinth,
At the perimeter we wander dumbly
Groping for truth, nor can one path discover
Which is not soon concluded in a point
That hath not magnitude, nor space, nor nothing,
But down the windy parallels of Time
Echoes again that interrogative
Which mocked our entrances. Now, Plum, go off!
Completed in an equilateral triangle,
Whereof, like children in a labyrinth,
At the perimeter we wander dumbly
Groping for truth, nor can one path discover
Which is not soon concluded in a point
That hath not magnitude, nor space, nor nothing,
But down the windy parallels of Time
Echoes again that interrogative
Which mocked our entrances. Now, Plum, go off!
(Stabs self)
Now shall the nighthawk to the trees report,
‘Plum is no more, poor Plum that used to hang
High in the branches of authority;
Poor Plum is fallen from the bough unripened,
Shook off too soon by unkind circumstance.’
‘Plum is no more, poor Plum that used to hang
High in the branches of authority;
Poor Plum is fallen from the bough unripened,
Shook off too soon by unkind circumstance.’
(Stabs self)
Now popes and persons, majesties and powers,
Dominions, sunsets, kings and macaroons,
Violets, marigolds, and moonlight falling
Like children’s kisses on the mountain top.
Dominions, sunsets, kings and macaroons,
Violets, marigolds, and moonlight falling
Like children’s kisses on the mountain top.
(Stabs self)
Dukes, ferns, and shellfish, and all gentle things
In the high argument of love suspended,
Firelight at evening and the dawn of day,
Redwings and walnuts, oak, mahogany,
Lancaster, York, great Salisbury and Monmouth,
Hereford, Leicester, Northumberland, and Kent,
King’s Cross, St. Pancras, Euston, Waterloo —
All noble-sounding and capacious words, Come and be mourners at my funeral,
For I am in the vestibule of death.
In the high argument of love suspended,
Firelight at evening and the dawn of day,
Redwings and walnuts, oak, mahogany,
Lancaster, York, great Salisbury and Monmouth,
Hereford, Leicester, Northumberland, and Kent,
King’s Cross, St. Pancras, Euston, Waterloo —
All noble-sounding and capacious words, Come and be mourners at my funeral,
For I am in the vestibule of death.
(Stabs self)
This is the gate and portal of my ending,
I think there doth not any word remain,
But silence and still quiet touch my lips
With the mute harmony of things unspoken.
I never was of that loud company
Which seek their harvest in a waste of words;
‘DO’ was my dictionary. And my sword
Leaped from the sheath ere I could mention it.
I think there doth not any word remain,
But silence and still quiet touch my lips
With the mute harmony of things unspoken.
I never was of that loud company
Which seek their harvest in a waste of words;
‘DO’ was my dictionary. And my sword
Leaped from the sheath ere I could mention it.
(Stabs self)
As you may see in some great orchestra
A little lonely fellow at the end
Sits by the cymbals, and the instruments
Thunder around him their tempestuous din, —
Flutes, horns, and oboes, harp and clarinet,
And the wild fiddles like the forest swaying
On Swedish mountains when the storm is high, —
But he, that could with one most royal clash
Startle the city and make all that music
Like the small twittering of birds appear,
Sits with his brasses, but doth make no sound
Till the conductor shall command him so,
And leaves his cymbals and goes home at last,
Still with no sound, nor kindly thanks, nor notice,
For the conductor hath forgotten him —
So sit I here, and die without a word.
A little lonely fellow at the end
Sits by the cymbals, and the instruments
Thunder around him their tempestuous din, —
Flutes, horns, and oboes, harp and clarinet,
And the wild fiddles like the forest swaying
On Swedish mountains when the storm is high, —
But he, that could with one most royal clash
Startle the city and make all that music
Like the small twittering of birds appear,
Sits with his brasses, but doth make no sound
Till the conductor shall command him so,
And leaves his cymbals and goes home at last,
Still with no sound, nor kindly thanks, nor notice,
For the conductor hath forgotten him —
So sit I here, and die without a word.
(Stabs self and surveys scene)
Well, this will puzzle them at Scotland Yard.
(Dies. Chord)
[CURTAIN]