3531 13 N5 17 >y 1 The Wings : A Drama in One Act : by Josephine Preston Peabody. Samuel French : Publisher 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York LONDON Samuel French, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street, Strand PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS The Wings : A Drama in One Act : by Josephine Preston Peabody. Samuel French : Publisher 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York LONDON Samuel French, Ltd. 36 Southampton Street, Strand j5^\/ Revised. 1917. by Josephine Preston Peabody Copyright. 1917, by Josephine Preston Peabody / APR -9 1917 Caution.— This play is fully protected under the Copyright laws of the United States and is sub- ject to royalty when produced by amateurs or professionals. Applications for the right to pro- duce " The Wings " should be made to Samuel French, 28 West 38th St.. New York. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ©CI.D 46605 L " The Wings " was produced at the Toy Theatre, Boston, January 15, 191 2. All acting rights are reserved by the author. THE WINGS. DRAMATIS PERSONS Cerdic. ^LFRic the King. Brun. Edburga. Time : — Northumbria before 700 a.d. THE WINGS By Josephine Preston Peabody TOY THEATRE Jan. 15, 1912 DRAMATIS PERSONS Cerdic Mr. Churchill ^lfric the King Mr. Rawson Brun Master Pellegrini Edburga Mrs. Briggs NORTHUMBRIA BEFORE 700 A.D. Scene designed by Mr. Livingston Platt. THE WINGS {The SCENE passes zvithin a low hut, Saxon-built. At back, a small zvindozv-space, and, centre a doorway, past which the seabirds fly in a gray light. — Against the right wall, a seat and a shelf with one or tzvo great books, a half-loaf of bread, and a lamp without a light. Near by, a large unlighted lantern. — On the left wall, a rude wooden cross; below it, a bench with a slab of stone upon it, covered over; mallet, chisel and other tools. Also to the left, a low door, now shut, leading to an inner cell. — Twi- light of a bleak day) {Enter Brun the fisher-boy, doubtfully. He looks from bench to books, and shakes his head. There appears on the threshold behind him the figure of a woman, Edburga, in a long cloak. Brun, when he turns, waves her back with a gesture of warning entreaty.) Brun. No more, but wings and wings! And still no light. He is not here, for all the night be wild. The \yind cries out; — there will be broken wings, And they do vex him, ever. Nay, forbear I (Edburga stands in the doorway.) 5 6 THE WINGS. Gudewife, forbear! Ye may not step within. He is not here, although the door stood wide ; See you, the holy Cerdic is not here. Edburga. Where, then? Brun. God wot ! 'Twill be a mickle hap That holds him fast; and no light litten yet. The light is wanting. — Do not come within; Bide yonder. Edburga. Wherefore? Wit ye who am I? (He shakes his head. She draws aside veil and wimple, discovering a young face and long braids of red-gold hair; then she steps in arro- gantly, to his dumb distress. While he replies in abashed singsong to her questions, she looks about her with something between scorn and curiosity. ) Deem ye the holy Cerdic hides away? Or that I come for naught? — What art thou called ? Brun. Brun, son of Wulfstan. . . . Edburga. And what dost thou here? Brun. Ye bade me lead you hither from the shore, See you ; — therefore I came. Often I come. Likewise to bring the holy Cerdic bread, And tidings from the Abbey. ... Ye can hear Our bell, save when the wind will be too high, At vesper-time and curfew. — He would fast. Ye wit, till he were like the lanthorn yonder, As ye could see a light through, if let be! Then I row hither, or across the bar ^' ' THE WINGS. 7 I come here at low water, and bring bread. — And if I did not, sure the Angel would. Edburga. Sooth ! Brun. All folk say. Once I lay by to watch, Till nigh I heard it coming. For I dread Some day the Angel seize me by the hair!— Lady, ye wit no woman can be here, '^ In holy Cerdic's cell. Edburga. Was this thy dread? And dare no townsfolk come? Brun. Save they be sick And sore possest, no higher than the door ! But ye have come within. Pray now, go forth ! Edburga ( stealthily ) . And I, worn weary, I must forth again Into the wet, for that I am a Woman ? Brun. Needs must ye take it ill to be a woman. But see, there is a tree to shelter by, A dark tree yonder, hard upon the dune. — Forsooth, all womankind he should mislike; And beyond that, men say it was a woman Drove Cerdic from the King. Edburga. Men say? . . . What men? Brun. Sooth, did ye never hear ? Edburga. What do men say? Brun. It was for chiding the King's light-o'-love, — I wot not who, no more than ye ; — Edburga. Her name Is called Edburga. 8 THE WINGS. ' "^ Brun. Ay, an evil woman ! She was it, brought misUke upon the King, And Cerdic bade him leave her. — And the King Would not ; but still she wasteth all his days, And, for her sake, he hath no mind to wed. And he was wroth ; and, likewise for her sake, He drove the holy Cerdic from the town. — But Cerdic found our island. And they tell. His faring here must bring a blessing down. — Edburga. Ay, hath it fallen yet? Methought the isle Looked bare enough, and starven ! Brun. Nay, not yet. But likewise there are curses in the court; And men cry out on ^Ifric. — Wit ye well, Their longing is for Cerdic home again. Edburga. And Cerdic, will he hence? When the King comes, With shining gifts! (Befzveen her teeth.) Brun. If he put her away, It may be . . . See you, Cerdic is so holy, They tell he will not look upon a woman When he must speak with them. But I'm a man: I talk with him, and look. And so I too Would not have spoke with ye, but that ye came To ask the way Edburga. Unto that holy man. . . . Yea, truly! I would see and speak with Cerdic. Ye deem he cometh hither soon? Brun. God wot! ^ THE WINGS. 9 He hath a Book here that he reads upon ; Likewise he knoweth how to grave on stone, With pictures hke to frost. But oftentimes All day he standeth on the rocks, adream, So stark the sea-birds have no fear of him, But graze his face in flying. So, belike, It is a Vision that doth keep him now ; For still the light is ever lit, by now. He will be coming. ... Ye must bide beyond. Edburga. Go thou. And I will follow to thy tree. There to sit down . . . and pray . . . till I behold Thy holy Cerdic coming. — Have no fear ! See : I will wrap my mantle round "my hair. As holy men would have us do. — Such peril, — And dear enchantment, in a woman's hair! So : 'tis my will to stand thus in the wind, Now, while the sun sets, and until the Fiend That rends me, have his own; or Cerdic Brun. Woe! The Fiend! — Edburga. That dwells in Woman : thou hast said. Brun. Woe that I brought ye here to Cerdic's cell ! Edburga (undoing a scarf from her neck). Nay, thou wilt never rue it.— Take this scarf So, knotted thrice, — unto the farthest rock. Where thou shalt bind it to that only bush, — The thorn thou shewedst me ; and so let hang That the sea- winds may sift and winnow it. This if thou do — and look not back again, — And say thy prayer, likewise, for holy Cerdic ! — There shall no hurt come nigh thee from the Fiend. — But I must bide by yonder starven pine, lo THE WINGS. n Till Cerdic pass, ... to shrive me. Brun (terrified). Ay, go hence ! There doth he bless the sick. Edburga. I follow thee. And may the saints forgive it to this — saint, There stepped upon his threshold one poor woman, Seeing he knew not! — I will after thee. Brun. Nay, do not ! Sooth, I will as ye have said. Edburga. Never look back! Brun (terrified). By holy Guthlac, never! When ye are shriven . . . take the self -same way Back to the shore. ... (Running out.) God shield the holy Cerdic ! Edburga (alone, stretching out her arms with sav- age relief.) God crush the holy Cerdic, with His shield ! (She looks about her, between curiosity and aver- sion; then begins to sing with exuberant defi- ance of the place. ) If the moon were mine For a silver cup. Ah, but I would fill it up With red wine, red wine ! Then, O love of mine. . . . (She stops singing as she comes to the bench with the covered stone, and draws near to look, as r THE WINGS. II if it fascinated and repelled her; then she turns away, silent. From the doorway, she seems to listen; then calls through her hands in a soft, high voice, like the wind.) ^Ifric ... the King! (Exit Edburga) (The door blows shut after her. Deep twilight falls. There is a pause, filled with the crying of wind and of seagulls. Then the low door in the left wall opens, and Cerdic gropes his way in, carrying a taper. He is a young monk with the keen face of a mystic, worn white with fatigue. He seems half tranced.) Cerdic. The darkness here. . . . Need be, I fell asleep. Sleep, sleep for me, and in the daytime! — Ah, The little sleep! Could I not watch one hour? Yea, Lord, for all the hours of day and night ; Save that in sleep, the wings stoop near to me I grasp for vainly, waking. . . . Was it sleep? Or were they here, the voices and the wings ? — Not yours, beloved birds ! Not yours that beat Gray through the wind and wet, in search of me. — Lady of Heaven! Forgive me that I slept, Forgetful of thy birds, to call them in And break my bread with them. — (He goes to the shelf, and taking the loaf down, breaks and scatters it from the doorway, after- wards closing the door.) Take all,— take all ! For I have slept ; and I am filled indeed, With manna and with light. Yet, O thou Blessed ! 12 THE WINGS. If my poor prayer and longing may avail, Like hands of need, dragging thy garment's hem, Vouchsafe to me, here in my wilderness, One sign to ease the hunger of my heart, That calls and echoes, prays and hears the prayer, Echoed and ebbing, till it surge again; High tide, — low tide, — but never any word. High tide, — low tide ; never a face to see ! {He comes down to the bench. From his taper he lights the lanthorn, and sets it by; then rever- ently he lifts the covering-cloth from the stone, to look upon his work.) Our Lady of all Comfort. Rose of Heaven ! Could I but make her, here, as in my dream. That blessed Face, — the stone should put forth might Unto blind eyes, and they would look, and see ! Ah, when? — Poor scribbled track, sore pitiful. Of wingless longing! Here the Face should be; With this gray blankness where the eyes would shine. More lovely blue than ever twilight sea. And here v/ould be her hair ; — a golden wave Of sunset, ebbing redly in the west . . . Her hair. . . . But never can I make her hands. Like to those palest roses that did grow Close to the Abbey wall. . . . Ah, could I know. Even in a dream ! Since unto lowlier men Than blessed Luke, she hath vouchsafed to see Her very face. — Comfort this halting tool, — Quicken this stone ! Let not the earth go dark Of such a likeness for men's hearts to keep, Beautiful, on the altar of that temple THE WINGS. 13 Whose walls be blazoned with the shapes of earth, — Scribbled and scarred with basest names and things, Foul upon clear ! — Even as my Dream did fade When some voice in my soul, more ware than I, Thrust me avv^ake, crying, " ^Ifric — the King!" And I awoke, and heard no more. — (Lifting his face with shut eyes.) Let be ! There shall no hurt come near my dream of thee ; But I will count a thousand dawning suns, Patient, so be that on some dawn of day. Thou lean from out of heaven, and I may see Thy face like dawn above thy Star-in-the-East, Mother of all the motherless, — God's Mother! And still, though I should count the thousand years, Still shall my heart be ready. (The wind shakes the door; and the gulls go by.) — Ah, the wings ! Ever thy birds, the while I hark for thee. Never thy word, but only call of birds. And waves and wind, and evermore the wings Of sea-gulls that I hear with quickened heart Of hope: because they knock upon my door, Knocking and mocking, ever ! Be it so. — Lady of Heaven, beside thy flock of stars. Who broodest over this mid-world as though It were an ailing lamb, I wait for thee. I harken, and my heart is at the gate . . . My soul doth wait, as a poor vacant chamber. With the door wide like famine, but for thee; 14 THE WINGS. "^ ^^"^ Ay, and the torches waiting for a fire White from the stars, — not breathing, save for thee. Moon of Pity, if this loneliness, And the sore heart of man that knows but how To seek a home, can ever draw thee down, Lean from thy glory with thy mother-looks ; — Lean down to bless, — follow thy pity, down, — Down to this solitude. Let me once look On Thee ! (A knocking on the door. Cerdic looks up with fixed eyes. The door swings open, and Edburga stands on the threshold, her veil shadowing her face, the two long golden braids hanging below, upon her breast. — She steps in, and stands regarding him for a moment; then speaks in a voice without emotion of any kind.) Edburga. Knowest thou me? (Cerdic, as in a trance, crosses his arms on his breast. His face grows radiant with beatitude. Without giving sign of her bewilderment, Edburga comes forward slowly, facing him. Then she loosens the veil from her head and the cloak from her shoulders. They fall about her feet; she stands richly arrayed. Cerdic sinks upon his knees.) Behold me. . . . Thou art Cerdic. Cerdic {in a far-off voice). Lady, thou knowest. Edburga. Yea, thou hast well said. 1 know thee what thou art. Thou dost not know What I am. — Dost thou dream? THE WINGS. 15 Cerdic. It well may be . . . I dream. Edburga. Wake then. For thou shouldst know me, Cerdic. {He does not move. She regards him with a closer curiosity. ) Make me some firelight here. For I am cold. Cerdic. Lady, have pity that my heart is shamed And my poor home is witless of the fire, What warmth may be. I had no thought — of this. Edburga. Wake, Cerdic. 'Tis no dream. Albeit thine eyes Never looked yet on mine. Guess, who am I? Thy lips have used my name. Why art thou dumb But now? (He answers in a joyful prayer.) Cerdic. Thy grace must needs unseal this mouth. Thou knowest. — Give me leave to tell of thee. In words like golden harp-strings ; but to tell How all the air is summer with thy coming, And morn doth flush the furrows of the sea ! Yea, how thy voice hath fallen, like white manna. To fill the craving hunger of the soul That longed for God and thee. (She recoils with sudden contemptuous laughter.) Edburga. ^ ^ , Nay, for us twain! i6 THE WINGS. This, then, is Holy Cerdic, who would look Upon no woman ! . . . Thou, who wouidst have us Forswear all earth, for heaven somewhere out- side, Tell me, O wise one, of this precious rede : — How to keep both, shut fast in godly hands ! (Cerdic, stricken aghast, reaches towards the fal- len mantle and touches it in horror, to make sure. As his vision breaks, he rises and stands back, striving to master his anguish.) Dreaming, good sooth ! You touch it, to make sure. Dreamer of far-off women ? But this dream Is a true dream ; as I am very Woman. Nor shalt thou bid me go till I have said. So mild thou wert, before I made me known ! Cerdic (gravely). Known, maiden? (She regards him keenly; then goes to the door, shuts it, and turns towards him, with triumph growing in her looks.) Edburga. Nay, then ! — I will tell thee more. How shouldst thou know me? I am the first woman, Haply, thine eyes have met; and so, like Eve, Older and wiser than thou ! — I come to tell, First, of the few, far things thou dost not know ; Then, of thyself, thou knowest less than all; . . . Then . . . what a pitiful King's Counsellor Thou wert, — too craven to behold a woman ! THE WINGS. 17 Cerdic. No longer give I counsel, well or ill, Unto the King. Another counsellor He hath preferred before me; for whose sake I am an exile, and this place my home. Edburga. Haply it was Edburga? Cerdic. Even she, — The King's Edburga. — If I have been craven, Speak out thy hurt. For I will hear, and learn. {He lights the lamp also, from the lanthorn; then stands with his arms folded, looking at her calmly. She begins zvith a cold irony that grows passionate.) Edburga. Ay, learn. — If that Edburga drave thee here, Bethink thee, that Edburga was a woman. Learn that there was some strength around her then. Stronger than thou, to drive thee from his heart — .^If ric the King's — and from the city gate ! — The woman's strength, the one might that is Woman. And though ye give and take us as your own. What is it that ye flee from and ye fear ? Dreading this . . . Softness, once it be un- chained ! Con thy blank heart. For I will write in it The runes that might unriddle thee the world; And thou shalt ponder them, one little hour, Looking upon me. — Nay, I do not come. Save but in hatred. Thou art safe from all Thy heart can fear, and long for — and despise ! I hate thee ; and I tell thee ; and I come i8 THE WINGS. To speak thee sooth, and at my going hence To leave full goodly token that I hate. — But thou, look back and be the wiser, — thou ! When I did enter, ere we came to speech. What was it bowed thy knees before me here Against thy will? Thou'rt dumb. Why then, poor clod, What, but this weird which thou couldst never face ? — This little power-and-glory-all-for-naught ! What save one Woman? And that one, to thee, The basest woman-weed in all the world! — Edburga ! Cerdic. Ah, my God! No, no. Edburga. The King's — ;. ' . The King's Edburga! Cerdic {apart). \ Ah, forgive — forgive ... Edburga. Prayest me now forgiveness ? Cerdic {sternly). Nay, not thee! Not thee. Edburga. Then haply heaven: that thou wert moved By this poor beauty that I wear upon me ? — Waste not thy prayer. The peril that I bring Is nothing strange ; 'tis old and grim and free. Have I not said, I come to tell thee of it ? — And what I am that reckon with thee? Cerdic. Speak. Edburga. I am Edburga, and the daughter of Ulf. My mother was a slave. For she was sold, r THE WINGS. 19 And given in her youth unto Svanfleda, Sister of Ulf, — a just and holy woman; Who bought and set her free, for Ulf to wed, — And had it written in the gospel-book, — When that his heart clave to her. — That, O monk, Thou canst but hear, not heed ! And I was grown, When Ulf came to be made an ealdorman. And Bertric would have taken me to wife. Save that I came before the eyes of ^Ifric The King; and so . . . — What are you, men and monks, That you may give us unto such an one To bind your lands together ? Or to bring The sum of twenty spears or more, to follow You, at the man-hunt? — Women bring you forth, As Darkness cherishes the doomful light Of the Sun, that being grown, shakes his bright locks And puts all to the sword ! — I'll not be given To Bertric, would that Bertric have me now : — I, a free-woman, and the gladlier free, That being yet unborn, I was a slave ! I am a creature rooted in the dark. But born to sunlight and the noble air. I will to give ; and I will not be given. I fear not right nor left, nor east, nor west ; Nor thee ! — For that I have is all mine own To give or keep. And I am all I have. And I am ^Ifric's, — for a kingly gift. (A bugle sounds distantly. Neither hears as they face each other fiercely.) I reck no more. But thou, thou shadow-thing, Unwitting what or men or shadows be. And ' hearing of my name and how time sped ', 20 THE V/INGS. And fearing for the council and the peace, Thou wouldst have hurled my one gift of my- self Into the dust ; and called all men to see, And curse and stone me hence: and if thou couldst ! — As there were no degrees 'twixt mire and me. thou wise Cerdic, hear the end of this. For thy ' King's Peace,' thou hast so ploughed the state, And turned the people's heart against their King, That now they clamor for their holy man ! Like rain and snow, two names make dim the air With * Cerdic ' and * Edburga ' I Cerdic. 1 knew not this. Edburga. Quoth he ! Thou hast it, now. Yet even so, Truly, thou wilt not come again, to rule ! . . . Thou piece of craft, I know thee. Dost thou think Cerdic shall win? Or, haply, base Edburga? The King is here, without . . . and nigh at hand. Coming with torches. (Lifts her hand to listen.) ... Ay! Cerdic {dazed). The King is come. ... Edburga. Yea, so. — Tho' thou be traitor, he's a King ; And thou hast been a one-time counsellor. He comes to say farewell . . . And I am first, To shew thee something of this world, before THE WINGS. 21 Thou tak'st thy leave for that far other world Thou knowst so well; — and liker home for thee, Than this warm Earth so full of seas and sun, — Too golden — like my hair ! . . . The tide is in. It was low water when I walked across ; But I did seal my name upon the shore ! Cerdic. /Elfric is come ... Edburga. I have said. — And ^Ifric's men. Cedric. Thou speakst not truly. ^Ifric is a king, Though he be young. Edburga. But, — Cerdic or Edburga ! Cerdic. Not thus for ^Ifric ! He bore love to me. Edburga. Ay, long ago. . . . For any of the earls He would not so have done. — It was for me. Save thyself, Holy Cerdic! — {She points to the door with ironic invitation. Cerdic turns towards the bench, and grasping his mallet, looks on the carven stone, lifting the cloth from it. She sees with amusement.) Let us see How monks may fight! . . . {He covers the stone and faces her with sudden in- dignation, still grasping his mallet.) Stout tools they look: and thou hast need of them. If thou wilt cling to such a meagre life, 22 THE WINGS. Who scants a moment? Surely not the King! Yet dost thou look not now, as when I came, Kneeling adaze before me ! And belike I seemed not thus to thee. — What I did seem, I wonder yet, O blind man with new eyes ! — I wonder yet. {The Abbey bell sounds faintly far off. It is fol- lowed by confused sounds of approach.) Cerdic. Hear, then! Thou sayst truth: — How much of truth I may have time to tell thee, Thou bitter truth, Edburga ! — When I kneeled, Not knowing, — for my heart was worn with dreams, Mine eyes were worn with watching, — I had prayed Only to hear one knock upon the door ; Only to see one Vision, that I strove To carve there on the stone. . . . There came a knock. There stood one ... at the door. — And I looked up. And saw in thee what I had prayed to see ; — And knew not what I saw, believing thee — God rede to me this day in Paradise The meaning of that mock! — believing thee The Vision ... of all pity and all grace, The Blessed One, the Mother of Our Lord! — Edburga. Out ! Mock me not. — Be still — Cerdic (with anguish). The Blessed One ! — Believing thee ... the Mother of Our Lord! . . . (Edburga gives a strange cry and falls huddled against the door, with her veil gathered over r THE WINGS. 23 her face, as Cerdic breaks the stone into frag- ments. — There is a bugle-blast without, and the sound of voices and steel; then a blow upon the door. Cerdic hurls away the mallet.) Could spears bite out this broken heart of a fool, And tear it from me! — Bid them in. . Voice (without). Come forth! {Enter ^lfric alone. The open door shows the torches outside. Cerdic faces him, sternly motionless. Edburga is crouched by the door- way, her face covered. The King looks from one to other in amazement.) ^LFRIC. Where was thy signal? Twice I sounded horn. — {To Cerdic.) I bade thee forth. Why cam'st thou not ? Is Cerdic Afraid to die? — . . . What makes Edburga here? Thou wert to give me signal. . . . What be- fell? Thou cowering in thy veil ? When have I seen This thing ? — Speak ! — Edburga {faintly). 2E\iv\c . . . i^LFRIC. Up ! Rise up and speak. Come forth, out of thy veil I Edburga. I cannot . , . 24 THE WINGS. ^LFRIC. Come. — ' ,.* . . . Look up. — Edburga. Let be. . . . Ah, ah ! . . . ^LFRic (fiercely). Out . . . from thy veil ! (Still she shrinks, covered. He turns on Cerdic, drawing his sword with a cry.) Thou diest ! — (Edburga flings herself against him and clasps his knees, reaching up towards his arm. ) Edburga. No, ^If ric, no. But give me time ! — Not yet. Let be ... I do not know ... I do not know , . . I cannot tell thee why . . . ^lfric. Thou wilt not speak? Edburga. Yea, soon. ... Be patient, . . . hear! (In a gasping whisper.) . . . Put up thy sword. ^LFRIC. Thou plead for him? Am I become thy fool? For he it was so called me, on a time ! — Speak. — Hath one hour stricken thy mind from thee? Art thou Edburga? And am I the King? What was the spell? — For whom was ambush set? Gods ! — I would make all sure^ but I am loath To shame the King I was, before my thanes. r------ THE WINGS. 25 (He pushes the door shut and stands against it, holding his sword drawn.) Answer, Edburga. — Was't for me or thee, I took this errand on me? Thou hast said One of you twain must Uve, the other die. — To death with him. Edburga. It shall dishonor thee. i^LFRIC. Bid in the hands to do it. — For that cause Thou wouldst have had them hither. Let them be Dishonored ! So : — was it not all thy deed ? Edburga. Mine, mine, — not thine! But thou, undo my deed, And cast it from thee. — He hath spoken true . . . Not all, not all ! — But yet, 'tis I have clasped This mantle of dishonor round thy neck, That is so foul upon thee. — I saw not ; — But now I do behold . . . and all is strange. Yea, I hate Cerdic . . . and I hate myself . . . I bade thee do it, and I pray thee now, Hear me again, and do it not ! i^LFRic (as she clings to him again), Edburga ! Edburga. All I have asked of thee, — unto this hour. Put it away from thee and me, . . . away! ^LFRIC. Edburga ! (She stands up, with a cry.) Edburga. Doubt me not. Thou dost believe! 26 THE WINGS. I loved thee, and I love thee, and ... I love thee. — I loved thee that thou wert the kingliest man; And I have made thee lesser. — Be not . . . less. The people love thee yet. — Ah, but they shall ! I did not know . . . but now . . . (IVistfully) Thou wilt believe? — Undo me from thy neck. — Cast me away. — I love thee, and I know thou didst love me. — Cast me away ! — (Cerdic stretches his arms out to them, suddenly illumined with great joy.) Cerdic. O, woman ! — child. . . . God's child. (They turn to him, perplexed, Edburga sobbing at the feet of .^lfric.) Wilt thou forgive? Edburga ( doubting ) . Forgive thee, Cerdic ? . . . Ah ! . . . Cerdic. Then hear me ; and forgive when I have done. I took thee for a bitter mockery Of my fair dream. Thou wert to me one sent To bow my pride, who deemed my prayer could win The blessed Vision . . . So I let break the image that I strove To make of her; for that it was dishonored. I brake it . . . and my heart was sore abased. — Blest be that shame and sharpness! — This thy word Makes me to know the answer to the prayer, r THE WINGS. 27 Now that I see, through all these sevenfold veils . . . The Likeness ! . . . Edburga. Nay, ... to Her? Cerdic. Even to her; Yea, and to Him who did so love the world : — Love, the one Likeness. . . . ^LFRic {after a silence). Cerdic, thou shamest me. (He puts up his sword. Edburga hides her face against his knees.) Cerdic. Lift up her head, and set her by thy side. . . . Wed her. Whom thou hast humbled, lift her up.— The gift that thou hast taken, hold it high. ^LFRIC. Come with us, Cerdic. — Be at our right hand. Cerdic. Not yet. For I have lived within a dream Too long. . . . Not yet know I enough of God, — Or men. (As they turn to go, Edburga leaves the King's arms irresolutely. She draws near the bench and gathers up the fragments of the broken stone to lay them together with a half-fearful touch, not looking at Cerdic. Exeunt Edburga and the King. — Cerdic follows them to the threshold, looking out, his hands held after them in farewell. There is a sharp command. The torches go, and the footsteps on the peb- bles. A gust of wind blows suddenly; and 28 THE WINGS. Cerdic re-enters with a hurt sea-gull. There is the faint sound of the Abbey bell once. Cerdic comes slowly down towards the bench and the stone fragments, his face set, and the sea-gull held close to his breast. Ah, Thou ! — Have pity on all broken wings. CURTAIN. THE WORLD'S BEST PLAYS By Celebrated European Authors ▲ NEW SERIBS OP AMATEUR PLAYS BY THE BEST AUTHORS, ANCIENT AND MODERN, ESPECIALLY TRANSLATED WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, SUG- GESTIONS FOR STAGING, Etc., FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS, COLLEGES, AND DRAMATIC CLUIIS. BARRETT H. CLARK General Editor Author of the "Continental Drama of Today," "Contempo- rary French Dramatists," translator and editor of "Three Modern Plays From the French." "Four Plays of the Free Theater," Hervieu's "The Labyrinth," etc., etc. With the immensely increased demand for new plays for purposes of production by amateurs comes a correspondingly great demand for a careful selection of those plays which can be easily and well presented by clubs and collegres. The plays in the present series have been chosen with regard to their intrinsic value as drama and literature, and at the same time to their adaptability to the needs and limitations of such organizations. The Series, under the personal supervision of Mr. Barrett H. Clark, instructor in the Department of Dramatic Litera- ture a.t Chautauqua, New York, assistant stage manager and actor with Mrs. Fiske (season 1912-1913), now comprises forty-five volumes. Eventually there will be plays from ancient Greece and Rome, Spain, France, Russia, Germany, and the Scandinavian countries, representative of the best drama of all ages and lands. Each volume is prefaced by a concise historical note by Mr. Clark, and with a few suggestions for staging. PLAYS NOW READY The Romancers. A comedy in three acts. By Edmond Rostand. New translation of this celebrated and charmingr little romantic play by the fanaous author of "Cyrano de Bergerac" and "Chantecler." Price 25 cents. The Merchant Gentleman (Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme). By Moliere. New translation of one of Moliere's comic masterpieces, a play which is well adapted to amateur production. 9 males, 3 females. Price 50 cents. Pater Noster. A poetic play in one act. By Francois Coppee. 3 males, 3 females. A pathetic incident of the time of th« Paris Commune, in 1871. Price 25 cents. Indian Summer. A comedy in one act. By Meilhac and Halevy. 2 males, 2 females. This little play, by two of the most famous writers of comedy of the last century, has been played at the Comedie Francaise at Paris for upwards of forty years, and remains one of the brightest and most popular works of the period. Price 25 cents. Modesty. By Paul Hervieu. 2 males, 1 female. A delight- ful trifle by one of the most celebrated of living dramatists. Price 25 cents. I'm Going! A comedy in one act. By Tristan Bernard. A deligrhtful bit of comedy of obstinacy and reconciliation. 1 man, 1 woman. Price 25 cents. The Village (Le Village). A comedy in one act. By Octave Feuillet. The author here paints the picture of an elderly couple, and shows that they have not realized their happiness until it is on the point of being taken from them. 2 women, 2 men. Price, 25 cents. The Beneficent Bear. A comedy in three acts. By Goldoni. One of the best-known comedies of the Father of Italian Comedy. A costume piece laid in 18th century France, the principal character in which is a good-hearted, though gruff, old uncle. 4 men, 3 women. Price, 25 cents. Grnmninr 'La Grammaire). A farce in one act. By Labiche. An amusing and charming comedy by one of the greatest of 19th century French dramatists. 4 men, 1 woman. Price, 25 cents. The Two Coward.^ (Les Deux Timides). A comedy in one act. By Labiche. A very amusing and human little comedy, in which a strong-willed girl helps her father choose for her the man she wishes to marry. 2 women, 3 men. Price, 25 cents. Master Putelln, Solicitor. A comedy in three acts. Special version by Brueys. One of the most famous of early French farces. The setting and character belong to the late Middle Ages. The play is concerned with the ques- tionable dealings of a clever lawyer. 7 men, 2 women. Price, 25 cents. Crispin, His* Master's Rival. A comedy in one act. By Le Sage. A famous comedy by the author of "Gil Bias," concerned with the pranks of two clever valets. 18th century costumes and settings. 4 men, 3 women. Price 25 cents. ■The Ijeg.'ficy. A comedy in one act. By Marivaux. A delicate high comedy of intrigue. Marivaux is one of the masters of old French comedy, and this play is full of deft touches of characterization. 2 women, 4 men. Price 25 cents. Aftrr the Honeymoon. A farce in one act. By Wolfgang Gyalui. A Hungarian farce full of brilliant dialogue and movement. 1 inan, 1 woman. Price, 25 cents. A Christmas Tale. A poetic play by Maurice Bouchor. A beautiful little miracle play of love and devotion, laid in 15th century Paris. 2 men, 2 women. Price. 25 cents. Crainquebllle. A play in three scenes. By Anatole France. A delightful series of pictures of Parisian street life, by the author of "The Man Who Married a Dumb Wife." 12 men, 6 women. Price 25 cents. Jean-Marie. A poetic play in one act. By Andre Theuriet. A pathetic play of Norman peasant life. 2 men, 1 woman. Price, 25 cents. The Rebound. A comedy in one act. By L. B. Picard. A clever comedy of intrigue, and a satire of social position. 2 women, 5 men. Price, 25 cents. liysistrata. By Aristophanes. An acting version of this brillio.nt satire on Athenian foibles, with strikingly modern features. Choruses versified with suggestion of A.'s meter. 4 men, 5 women, 1 child. Chorus of old men and one of Gret;k matrons, about 15 in each. Text is accompanied with full outline of an effective color scheme for costum- ing. Price, 25 cents. The Twins. By Plautus. 7 males, 2 females. A Latin farce, upon which Shakespeare founded his Comedy of Errors. Price 25 cents. The House of Fourchambault. By Emile Augier. 4 males, 4 females. One of the greatest of recent French family dramas. Although the play is serious in tone, it contains touches which entitle it to a position among the best comedies of manners of the times. Price 50 cents. The Doctor in Spite of Himself (Le medecin malgre Lui). By Moliere. 6 males, 3 females. A famous farce by th« greatest of French dramatists. Sganarelle has to b« beaten before he will acknowledge that he is a doctor, which he is not. He then works apparently miraculous cures. The play is a sharp satire on the medical profes- sion in the 17th Century. Price 25 cents. Brigrnol and His Daughter. By Capus. 5 males, 4 females. The first comedy in English of the most sprightly and satirical of present-day French dramatists Price 50 cents. Choosing a Career. By G. A. de Caillavet. Written by one of the authors of "Love Watches." A farce of mistaken identity, full of humorous situations and bright lines. Price 25 cents. French Witliout a Master. By Tristan Bernard. 5 males. 2 females. A clever farce by one of the most successful of French dramatists. It is concerned with the difficulties of a bogus-interpreter who does not know a word of French. Price 25 cents. Pannrge's Slieep. A comedy in one act. By Meilhac and Halevy. A famous and often-acted little play based upon the obstinacy of a charming woman, who is finally induced to marry. 1 man, 2 women. Price, 25 cents. The raw-Suit (Der Prozess). A comedy in one act. By Roderich Benedix. A famous comedy by the well-known German-dramatist — author of "The Obstinate Family," and "The Third Man." The play is full of amusing situations and bright lines. 5 men. Price, 25 cents. The Third Man. (Der Dritte). A comedy in one act. By Roderich Benedix. A highly amusing little comedy based upon the obstinacy of human beings, and proves the truth of the saying that "love finds a way." 3 women, 1 man. Price 25 cents. The Sicilian (Le Sicilien). A farce in two scenes. By Moliere. One of the lighter comedies of intrigue. This play is laid in Sicily, and has to do with the capture of a beautiful Greek slave from her selfish and tyrannical master. 4 men. 3 women. Price 25 cents. Doctor liOTC (L'Amour Medicin). a farce in three acta by Moliere. An uproarious farce, satirizing the medical pro- fession. Through it runs the story of a young girl who pretends to be ill in order that she may marry the man she loves. 5 men, 4 women. Price 25 cents. The Aflfected Young I^adies (Les Precieuses ridicules). A comedy in one act by Moliere. The famous satire on intellectual and social affectation. Like most of Moliere • plays, the theme in this is ever modern. 3 women, 6 men. Price, 25 cents. The Fairy (La Fee). A romantic coniedy I" «"% «j^,^-,,.f,J Octave Feuillet. Laid in a hut in Norniandy, this little comedy is full of poetic charm and ^^\^J- ^^^"l^^- .Jiyl element of the supernatural is introduced in order to drive home a strong lesson. 1 woman. 3 men. Price. 25 cents. Rosalie. By Max Maurey. 1 male, 2 females. A "Grand Guig-nol" comedy in one act, full of verve and clever dialogue. Rosalie, the stubborn maid, leads her none too amiable master and mistress into uncomfortable compli- cations by refusing to open the front door to a supposed g-uest of wealth and influence. Price 25 cents. The Art of Being Bored (Le Monde ou Ton s'ennuie). A comedy in three acts. By Edouard Pailleron. 11 males, 9 females. Probably the best-known and most frequently acted comedy of manners in the realm of nineteenth century French drama. It is replete with wit and comic situations. For nearly forty years it has held the stag-e, while countless imitators have endeavored to reproduce its freshness and charm. Price 25 cents. A Marriage Propo.sal. By Anton Tchekhoff. 2 males, 1 female. A comedy in one act, by one of the greatest of modern liussian writers. This little farce is very popular in Russia, and satirizes the peasants of that country in an amusing manner. Price 25 cents. The Green Coat. By Alfred de Musset, and Emile Augier, 3 males, 1 female. A slight and comic character sketch of the life of Bohemian artists in Paris, written by one of P'rance's g:reatest poets and one of her best-known dramatists. Price 25 cents. The Wager. By Giuseppe Giacosa. 4 males, 1 female. This one act poetic comedy, written by the most celebrated dramatist of modern Italy, was the author's first work. It treats of a wager made by a proud young- page, who risks his life on the outcome of a game of chess. Price 25 cents. Phorniio. A I^atin comedy. By Terence. 11 males, 2 females. An up-to-date version of the famous comedy. One of the masterpieces of Latin drama; the story of a father who returns to find that his son has married a slave girl. Phormio, the parasite-villain who causes the numerous comic complications, succeeds in unraveling' the difficulties, and all ends happily. Price 25 cents. The Little Shep!ierdess. A poetic comedy in one act. By iVndre Rivoire. 1 male, 2 females. A charming- pastoral sketch by a well-known French poet and dramatist. Played with success at the Comedie Francaise. Price 25 cents. The Boor. By Anton Tchekhoff. 2 males, 1 female. A well- known farce by the celebrated Russian master; it is concerned with Russian characters, and portrays with masterly skill the comic side of country life. Price 25 cents. The Blaek Pearl. By Victorien Sardou. 7 males, 3 females. One of Sardou's most famous comedies of intrigue. A house has, it is thoug;ht, been robbed. Bvit through skilful investigation it is found that the havoc wrougrht has been done by lightning. Price 25 cents. Charming I^eandre. By Theodore de Banville. 2 males, 1 female. The author of "Gringoire" is here seen in a poetic vein, yet the Frenchman's innate sense of hvimor recalls, in this satirical little play, the g-enius of Holier©. Price 25 cents. The Post-Script. By Emile A^ugier. 1 male, 2 females. Of this one-act comedy Professor Brander Matthews writes: "... one of the brightest and most brilliant little one-act comedies in any language, and to be warmly recommended to Ameiican readers." Price 25 cents. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS