D I >> U /rom the persona? library o/ SUSANNA BRYANT DAKIN presented in her memory to the university library university of California santa cruz by HENRY SALTONSTALL DAKIN MARY DAKIN SADGOPAL SUSANNA DAKIN ARP 1969 STEWART KIDD DRAMATIC PUBLICATIONS THE TRUTH ABOUT THE THEATER Anonymous $1.25 EUROPEAN THEORIES OF THE DRAMA Barrett H. Clark 5.00 CoNTEMPORARYpRENCH DRAMATISTS Barrett H. Clark 2.50 FOUR PLAYS OF THE FREE THEATER . . Barrett H. Clark 2.50 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS Geo. Cram Cook & Frank Shay, Editors 2.50 THE Two CROM WELLS Liddell DeLesseline 1.50 PLAYS AND PLAYERS Walter Prichard Eaton 3.00 THE ANTIGONE OF SOPHOCLES Prof. Jos. Edward Harry 1.25 THE CHANGING DRAMA Archibald Henderson 2.50 EUROPEAN DRAMATISTS' Archibald Henderson 3.00 GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: His LIFE AND WORKS Archibald Henderson 7.50 FIFTY CONTEMPORARY ONE ACT PLAYS Compiled by Pierre Loving & Frank Shay 5.00 SHORT PLAYS - Mary MacMittan 2.50 MORE SHORT PLAYS Mary MacMillan 2.50 THE GIFT Margaret Douglas Rogers 1.00 COMEDIES OF WORDS AND OTHER PLAYS Arthur Schnitzler, Translated by Pierre Loving 2.50 LUCKY PEHR August Strindberg 2.50 Translated by Velma Swanston Howard EASTER August Strindberg 2.50 Translated by Velma Swanston Howard THE HAMLET PROBLEM AND ITS SOLUTION Emerson V enable 1.50 PORTMANTEAU PLAYS Stuart Walker, net 2.50 MORE PORTMANTEAU PLAYS .... Stuart Walker, net 2.50 PORTMANTEAU ADAPTATIONS. . . .Stuart Walker, net 2.50 Stewart Kidd Modern Plays MANSIONS Hildegarde Planner .50 THE SHEPHERD IN THE DISTANCE. .Holland Hudson .50 HEARTS TO MEND H. A. Overstreet .50 SHAM Frank G. Tompkins ..50 Six WHO PASS WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL Stuart Walker .50 Others to Follow THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS EDITED AND SELECTED BY GEORGE CRAM COOK and FRANK SHAY WITH A FOREWORD BY HUTCHINS HAPGOOD CINCINNATI STEWART KIDD COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1921 STEWART & KIDD COMPANY All Rights Reserved COPYRIGHT IN ENGLAND INTRODUCTION As these little plays go to press, the news comes of the death of John Reed, of the original group who formed the Players seven or eight summers ago at Provincetown. Reed was a pure spirit, held completely by what his imagination saw. He acted without re serve and had no prudence. His life was deter mined by real values. Witl> a gay smile he gave himself to what he saw as beautiful, no matter where it might lead to ostracism, to prison, to death. He did not express himself solemnly, but he lived a life of passionate devotion to the best, as he saw it. Reed joins in death several others of the Play ers who went before ; all, but one, young, like him ; all, like him, devoted, and careless of the world, careful of the spirit so reckless and unafraid. "Hutch" Collins, who challenged life at every moment; Pendleton King; Fenimore Merrill; Nani Bailey, who loved all but herself; Alice Mac- dougall, and the beautiful Mary Pyne, who quietly understood all that youth and age know, and Mrs. E. E. Cook, the oldest member of the Players, but young in spirit. Youth and death are close companions. United, they are of the eternal. As age comes, youth and death are separated. Only while they are united is art there. Those who were close to the Prov incetown Players know how youth was there; and 5 INTRODUCTION now we see better how death was imminent to the necessary carelessness of pure living and doing. In the plays contained in this volume, and in others not published or published in previous col lections, there are touches that, to those of us who can supply from our memories, reveal the spirit of the Players. This is the best that art can do. To all art we must bring something not contained in it, to see it as art. We must see the unattained youthful effort. If there is a glimpse of that, it is all we can hope for in an unrealized world. These ten are not the best plays ever written; but they are written in a pure spirit; they sprang from an attempt made by a group of men and women to express something sincerely, with no regard for fame, money, or power- and what ever they have of value is due to that. If the Provincetown Players had not been formed, in unusual degree, with the purity of youth and effort, so many of them would not, in all likelihood, in this brief time have died. It was not an accident. They gave themselves un reservedly to life, and it was eternity, rather than death, that took them. Among those of the Players who remain there are some who remain unwillingly. Whom the gods love die young, and if some of those who remain are loved of the gods, it is because they are already living beyond in spirit, and are held here for the purpose of fulfilling some mundane obligation. HUTCHINS HAPGOOD. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Grateful acknowledgment for permission to include plays in this volume is made to the following authors and publishers: To Alice Rostetter, Susan Glaspell, Neith Boyce, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Rita Wellman, the late Pendleton King, James Oppenheim, Floyd Dell, Wil bur Daniel Steele, Eugene G. O'Neill, George Cram Cook, and Hutchins Hapgood. To Egmont Arens, for The Widows Veil, The Angel Intrudes, and Night. Copies of the acting editions of these plays may be had from Mr. Arens. To Boni & Liveright, Inc., from Bound East For Cardiff. To Small, Maynard & Company, for Suppressed Desires. F. S. NOTE The plays in this volume are fully protected by the copyright law, all requirements of which have been complied with. No performance, either professional or amateur, may be given without the written per mission of the respective authors or their representa tives, who may be addressed in care of the Province- town Players, 133 Macdougal Street, New York City. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION, - 5 SUPPRESSED DESIRES, A COMEDY. By George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell, 9 ARIA DA CAPO, A FANTASY. By Edna St. Vin cent Millay, 45 COCAINE, A PLAY. By Pendleton King, - 71 NIGHT, A PLAY. By James Oppenheim, - 95 ENEMIES, A PLAY. By Neith Boyce and Hutch- ins Hapgood, 117 THE ANGEL INTRUDES, A COMEDY. By Floyd Dell, - 137 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF, A PLAY. By Eugene G. O'Neill, - 157 THE WIDOW'S VEIL, A COMEDY. By Alice Ros- tetter, - 181 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN, A PLAY. By Rita Wellman, 207 NOT SMART, A FARCE. By Wilbur Daniel Steele, ----- - - 241 SUPPRESSED DESIRES A COMEDY IN TWO SCENES BY GEORGE CRAM COOK AND SUSAN GLASPELL Copyright, 1920, BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY Att Rights Reserved A period of two weeks is supposed to elapse be tween the first and second scenes. PERSONS HENRIETTA BREWSTER STEPHEN BREWSTER MABEL SUPPRESSED DESIRES SCENE I A studio apartment in an upper story, Washing ton Square South. Through an immense north window in the back wall appear tree tops and the upper part of the Washington Arch. Be yond it you look up Fifth Avenue. Near the window is a big table f loaded at one end with serious-looking books and austere scientific periodicals. At the other end are architect's drawings, blue prints, dividing compasses, square, ruler, etc. At the left is a door leading to the rest of the apartment; at the right the outer door. A breakfast table is set for three, but only two are seated at it Henrietta and Stephen Brewster. As the curtains withdraw Steve pushes back his coffee cup and sits de jected. HENRIETTA It isn't the coffee, Steve, dear. There's nothing the matter with the coffee. There's something the matter with you. STEVE (doggedly) There may be something the matter with my stomach. ii THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS HENRIETTA (scornfully) Your stomach! The trouble is not with your stomach, but in your subconscious mind. STEVE Subconscious piffle. (Takes morning paper and tries to read.) HENRIETTA Steve, you never used to be so disagreeable. You certainly have got some sort of a complex. You're all inhibited. You're no longer open to new ideas. You won't listen to a word about psychoanalysis. STEVE A word! I've listened to volumes! HENRIETTA You've ceased to be creative in architecture your work isn't going well. You're not sleep ing well STEVE How can I sleep, Henrietta, when you're al ways waking me up in the night to find out what I'm dreaming? HENRIETTA But dreams are so important, Steve. If you'd tell yours to Dr. Russell, he'd find out exactly what's wrong with you. STEVE There's nothing wrong with me. HENRIETTA You don't even talk as well as you used to. STEVE Talk? I can't say a thing without you looking 12 SUPPRESSED DESIRES at me in that dark fashion you have when you're on the trail of a complex. HENRIETTA This very irritability indicates that you're suf fering from some suppressed desire. STEVE I'm suffering from a suppressed desire for a little peace. HENRIETTA Dr. Russell is doing simply wonderful things with nervous cases. Won't you go to him, Steve? STEVE (slamming down his newspaper) No, Henrietta, I won't ! HENRIETTA But, Stephen! STEVE Tst! I hear Mabel coming. Let's not be at each other's throats the first day of her visit. (He takes out cigarets. Mabel comes in from door left, the side opposite Steve, so that he is facing her. She is wearing a rather fussy neg ligee in contrast to Henrietta, who wears "rad ical" clothes. Mabel is what is called plump.) MABEL Good-morning ! HENRIETTA Oh, here you are, little sister! STEVE Good-morning, Mabel ! (Mabel nods to him and turns, her face lighting up, to Henrietta.) HENRIETTA (giving Mabel a hug as she leans against her) 13 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS It's so good to have you here. I was going to let you sleep, thinking you'd be tired after the long trip. Sit down. There'll be fresh toast in a minute and (rising) will you have MABEL Oh, I ought to have told you Henrietta. Don't get anything for me. I'm not eating breakfast. HENRIETTA (at first in mere surprise) Not eating breakfast? (She sits down, then leans toward Mabel, who is seated now, and scrutinizes her.) STEVE (half to himself) The psychoanalytical look! HENRIETTA Mabel, why are you not eating breakfast? MABEL (a little startled) Why, no particular reason. I just don't care much for breakfast, and they say it keeps down (a hand on her hip the gesture of one who is "reducing" ) that is, it's a good thing to go without it. HENRIETTA Don't you sleep well ? Did you sleep well last night? MABEL Oh, yes, I slept all right. Yes, I slept fine last night, only (laughing) I did have the funniest dream ! STEVE S-h! S-t! HENRIETTA (moving closer) And what did you dream, Mabel? 14 SUPPRESSED DESIRES STEVE Look-a-here, Mabel, I feel it's my duty to put you on. Don't tell Henrietta your dreams. If you do, she'll find out that you have an under ground desire to kill your father and marry your mother HENRIETTA Don't be absurd, Stephen Brewster ! (Sweetly to Mabel) What was your dream, dear? MABEL (laughing) Well, I dreamed I was a hen. HENRIETTA A hen? MABEL Yes ; and I was pushing along through a crowd as fast as I could, but being a hen I couldn't walk very fast it was like having a tight skirt, you know; and there was some sort of creature in a blue cap you know how mixed up dreams are and it kept shouting after me, "Step, hen ! Step, hen!" until I got all excited and just couldn't move at all. HENRIETTA (resting chin in palm and peering) You say you became much excited? MABEL (laughing) Oh, yes; I was in a terrible state. HENRIETTA (leaning back, murmurs) This is significant. STEVE She dreams she's a hen. She is told to step lively. She becomes violently agitated. What can it mean? THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS HENRIETTA (turning impatiently from him) Mabel, do you know anything about psychoanalysis ? MABEL (feebly) Oh not much. No I (brightening) It's something about the war isn't it? STEVE Not that kind of war. MABEL (abashed) I thought it might be the name of a new ex plosive. STEVE It is. MABEL (apologetically to Henrietta, who is frowning) You see, Henrietta, I we do not live in touch with intellectual things, as you do. Bob being a dentist somehow our friends STEVE (softly) Oh, to be a dentist ! (Goes to window and stands looking out.) HENRIETTA Don't you ever see anything more of that edi torial writer what was his name? MABEL Lyman Eggleston? HENRIETTA Yes, Eggleston. He was in touch with things. Don't you see him? MABEL Yes, I see him once in a while. Bob doesn't like him very well. 16 SUPPRESSED DESIRES HENRIETTA Your husband does not like Lyman Eggleston ? (mysteriously) Mabel, are you perfectly happy with your husband? STEVE (sharply) Oh, come now, Henrietta that's going a little strong I HENRIETTA Are you perfectly happy with him, Mabel? (Steve goes to work-table.) MABEL Why yes I guess so. Why of course I am! HENRIETTA Are you happy? Or do you only think you are? Or do you only think you ought to be? MABEL Why, Henrietta, I don't know what you mean ! STEVE (seizes stack of books and magazines and dumps them on the breakfast table) This is what she means, Mabel. Psychoanalysis. My work-table groans with it. Books by Freud, the new Messiah; books by Jung, the new St. Paul ; the Psycho-analytical Review back num bers two-fifty per. MABEL But what's it all about? STEVE All about your subconscious mind and desires you know not of. They may be doing you a great deal of harm. You may go crazy with them. Oh, yes ! People are doing it right and THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS left. Your dreaming you're a hen (Shakes his head darkly.) HENRIETTA Any fool can ridicule anything. MABEL (hastily, to avert a quarrel) But what do you say it is, Henrietta? STEVE (looking at his watch) Oh, if Henrietta's go ing to start that! (During Henrietta's next speech settles himself at work-table and sharp ens a lead pencil.) HENRIETTA It's like this, Mabel. You want something. You think you can't have it. You think it's wrong. So you try to think you don't want it. Your mind protects you avoids pain by re fusing to think the forbidden thing. But it's there just the same. It stays there shut up in your unconscious mind, and it festers. STEVE Sort of an ingrowing, mental toe-nail. HENRIETTA Precisely. The forbidden impulse is there full of energy which has simply got to do some thing. It breaks into your consciousness in dis guise, masks itself in dreams, makes all sorts of trouble. In extreme cases it drives you in sane. MABEL (with a gesture of horror) Oh ! HENRIETTA (reassuring) But psychoanalysis has found out how to save SUPPRESSED DESIRES us from that. It brings into consciousness the suppressed desire that was making all the trou ble. Psychoanalysis is simply the latest method of preventing and curing insanity. STEVE (from his table) It is also the latest scientific method of separating families. HENRIETTA (mildly) Families that ought to be separated. STEVE The Dwights, for instance. You must have met them, Mabel, when you were here before. Helen was living, apparently, in peace and hap piness with good old Joe. Well she went to this psychoanalyzer she was "psyched," and biff ! home she comes with an unsuppressed desire to leave her husband. (He starts work, drawing lines on a drawing board with a T- square.) MABEL How terrible ! Yes, I remember Helen Dwight. But but did she have such a desire? STEVE First she'd known of it. MABEL And she left him ? HENRIETTA (coolly) Yes, she did. MABEL Wasn't he good to her? HENRIETTA Why, yes; good enough. 19 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MABEL Wasn't he kind to her? HENRIETTA Oh, yes kind to her. MABEL And she left her good, kind husband? HENRIETTA Oh, Mabel! "Left her good, kind husband!" How naive forgive me, dear but how bour- geoise you are! She came to know herself. And she had the courage ! MABEL I may be very naive and bourgeoise but I don't see the good of a new science that breaks up homes. (Steve applauds.) STEVE In enlightening Mabel, we mustn't neglect to mention the case of Art Holden's private sec retary, Mary Snow, who has just been informed of her suppressed desire for her employer. MABEL Why, I think it is terrible, Henrietta ! It would be better if we didn't know such things about ourselves. HENRIETTA No, Mabel, that is the old way. MABEL But but her employer? Is he married? STEVE (grunts) Wife and four children. MABEL Well, then, what good does it do the girl to be 20 SUPPRESSED DESIRES told she has a desire for him? There's nothing can be done about it. HENRIETTA Old institutions will have to be reshaped so that something can be done in such cases. It hap pens, Mabel, that this suppressed desire was on the point of landing Mary Snow in the in sane asylum. Are you so tightminded that you'd rather have her in the insane asylum than break the conventions? MABEL But but have people always had these awful suppressed desires? HENRIETTA Always. STEVE But they've just been discovered. HENRIETTA The harm they do has just been discovered. And free, sane people must face the fact that they have to be dealt with. MABEL (stoutly) I don't believe they have them in Chicago. HENRIETTA (business of giving Mabel up) People "have them" wherever the living Libido the center of the soul's energy is in conflict with petrified moral codes. That means everywhere in civili zation. Psychoanalysis STEVE Good God! I've got the roof in the cellar! HENRIETTA The roof in the cellar ! 21 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS STEVE (holding plan at arm 1 3 length) That's what psychoanalysis does! HENRIETTA That's what psychoanalysis could un-do. Is it any wonder I'm concerned about Steve? He dreamed the other night that the walls of his room melted away and he found himself alone in a forest. Don't you see how significant it is for an architect to have walls slip away from him ? It symbolizes his loss of grip in his w ork. There's some suppressed desire STEVE (hurling his ruined plan viciously to the floor) Suppressed hell! HENRIETTA You speak more truly than you know. It is through suppressions that hells are formed in us. MABEL (looking at Steve, who is tearing his hair) Don't you think it would be a good thing, Hen rietta, if we went somewhere else? (They rise and begin to pick up the dishes. Mabel drops a plate, which breaks. Henrietta draws up short and looks at her the psychoanalytic look) I'm sorry, Henrietta. One of the Spode plates, too. (Surprised and resentful as Hen rietta continues to peer at her) Don't take it so to heart, Henrietta. HENRIETTA I can't help taking it to heart. MABEL I'll get you another. (Pause. More sharply 22 SUPPRESSED DESIRES as Henrietta does not answer) I said I'll get you another plate, Henrietta. HENRIETTA It's not the plate. MABEL For heaven's sake, what is it then? HENRIETTA It's the significant little false movement that made you drop it. MABEL Well, I suppose everyone makes a false move ment once in a while. HENRIETTA Yes, Mabel, but these false movements all mean something. MABEL (about to cry) I don't think that's very nice ! It was just be cause I happened to think of that Mabel Snow you were talking about HENRIETTA Mabel Snow! MABEL Snow Snow well, what was her name, then ? HENRIETTA Her name is Mary. You substituted your own name for hers. MABEL Well, Mary Snow, then ; Mary Snow. I never heard her name but once. I don't see anything to make such a fuss about. HENRIETTA (gently) Mabel, dear, mistakes like that in names 23 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MABEL (desperately) They don't mean something, too, do they? HENRIETTA (gently) I am sorry, dear, but they do. MABEL But I'm always doing that! HENRIETTA (after a start of horror) My poor little sister, tell me all about it. MABEL About what? HENRIETTA About your not being happy. About your long ing for another sort of life. MABEL But I don't. HENRIETTA Ah, I understand these things, dear. You feel Bob is limiting you to a life in which you do not feel free MABEL Henrietta ! When did I ever say such a thing ? HENRIETTA You said you are not in touch with things in tellectual. You showed your feeling that it is Bob's profession that has engendered a re sentment which has colored your whole life with him. MABEL Why Henrietta I HENRIETTA Don't be afraid of me, little sister. There's nothing can shock me or turn me from you. I 24 SUPPRESSED DESIRES am not like that. I wanted you to come for this visit because I had a feeling that you needed more from life than you were getting. No one of these things I have seen would excite my suspicion. It's the combination. You don't eat breakfast (enumerating on her fingers) ; you make false moves; you substitute your own name for the name of another whose love is misdirected. You're nervous; you look queer; in your eyes there's a frightened look that is most unlike you. And this dream. A hen. Come with me this afternoon to Dr. Russell ! Your whole life may be at stake, Mabel. MABEL (gasping) Henrietta, I you you always were the smart est in the family, and all that, but this is ter rible! I don't think we ought to think such things (brightening). Why, I'll tell you why I dreamed I was a hen. It was because last night, telling about that time in Chicago, you said I was as mad as a wet hen. HENRIETTA (superior) Did you dream you were a wet hen? MABEL (forced to admit it) No. HENRIETTA No. You dreamed you were a dry hen. And why, being a hen, were you urged to step ? MABEL Maybe it's because when I am getting on a street car it always irritates me to have them call "Step lively." 25 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS HENRIETTA No, Mabel, that is only a child's view of it if you will forgive me. You see merely the ele ments used in the dream. You do not see into the dream; you do not see its meaning. This dream of the hen STEVE Hen hen wet hen dry hen mad hen! (jumps up in a rage) Let me out of this ! HENRIETTA (hastily picking up dishes, speaks soothingly) just a minute, dear, and we'll have things so you can work in quiet. Mabel and I are going to sit in my room. * (She goes out left, carrying dishes.) STEVE (seizing hat and coat from an alcove near the outside door) I'm going to be psychoanalyzed. I'm going now ! I'm going straight to that in fallible doctor of hers that priest of this new religion. If he's got honesty enough to tell Henrietta there's nothing the matter with my unconscious mind, perhaps I can be let alone about it, and then I will be all right. (From the door in a low voice) Don't tell Henrietta I'm going. It might take weeks, and I couldn't stand all the talk. (He hurries out.) HENRIETTA (returning) Where's Steve? Gone? (with a hopeless ges ture) You see how jmpos&tnt he is how un like himself! I tell you, Mabel, I'm nearly distracted about Steve. 26 SUPPRESSED DESIRES MABEL I think he's a little distracted, too. HENRIETTA Well, if he's gone, you might as well stay here. I have a committee meeting at the book-shop, and will have to leave you to yourself for an hour or two. (As she puts her hat on, taking it from the alcove where Steve found his, her eye, lighting up almost carnivorous ly, falls on an enormous volume on the floor beside the work- table. The book has been half hidden by the wastebasket. She picks it up and carries it around the table toward Mabel) Here, dear, is one of the simplest statements of psychoanal ysis. You just read this and then we can talk more intelligently. (Mabel takes volume and staggers back under its weight to chair rear center. Henrietta goes to outer door, stops and asks abruptly) How old is Lyman Eggleston? MABEL (promptly) He isn't forty yet. Why, what made you ask that, Henrietta ? (As she turns her head to look at Henrietta her hands move toward the upper corners of the book balanced on her knees.) HENRIETTA Oh, nothing. Au revoir. (She goes out. Ma bel stares at the ceiling. The book slides to the floor. She starts; looks at the book, then at the broken plate on the table) The plate ! The book ! (She lifts her eyes, leans forward elbow on knee, chin on knuckles and plaintively queries) Am I unhappy? [CURTAIN] 27 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS SCENE II The stage is as in Scene I, except that the break- fast table has been removed. During the first few minutes the dusk of a winter afternoon deepens. Out of the darkness spring rows of double street-lights, almost meeting in the dis tance. Henrietta is at the psychoanalytical end of Steve's work-table, surrounded by open books and periodicals, writing. Steve enters briskly. STEVE What are you doing, my dear? HENRIETTA My paper for the Liberal Club. STEVE Your paper on HENRIETTA On a subject which does not have your sym pathy. STEVE Oh, I'm not sure I'm wholly out of sympathy with psychoanalysis, Henrietta. You worked it so hard. I couldn't even take a bath without it's meaning something. HENRIETTA (loftily.) I talked it because I knew you needed it. STEVE You haven't said much about it these last two 28 SUPPRESSED DESIRES weeks. Uh your faith in it hasn't weakened any? HENRIETTA Weakened? It's grown stronger with each new thing I've come to know. And Mabel. She is with Dr. Russell now. Dr. Russell is wonderful! From what Mabel tells me I be lieve his analysis is going to prove that I was right. To-day I discovered a remarkable con firmation of my theory in the hen dream. STEVE What is your theory? HENRIETTA Well, you know about Lyman Eggleston. I've wondered about him. I've never seen him, but I know he's less bourgeois than Mabel's other friends more intellectual and (significantly) she doesn't see much of him because Bob doesn't like him. STEVE But what's the confirmation? HENRIETTA To-day I noticed the first syllable of his name. STEVE Ly? HENRIETTA No egg. STEVE HENRIETTA (patiently) Mabel dreamed she was a hen. (Steve laughs) You wouldn't laugh if you knew how important names are in interpreting dreams. Freud is 29 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS full of just such cases in which a whole hidden complex is revealed by a single significant syl lable like this egg. STEVE Doesn't the traditional relation of hen and egg suggest rather a maternal feeling? HENRIETTA There is something maternal in Mabel's love, of course; but that's only one element. STEVE Well, suppose Mabel hasn't a suppressed desire to be this gentleman's mother, but his beloved ! What's to be done about it? What about Bob ? Don't you think it's going to be a little rough on him? HENRIETTA That can't be helped. Bob, like everyone else, must face the facts of life. If Dr. Russell should arrive independently at this same inter pretation, I shall not hesitate to advise Mabel to leave her present husband. STEVE Um um! (The lights go up on Fifth Ave nue. Steve goes to the window and looks out) How long is it we've lived here, Henrietta ? HENRIETTA Why, this is the third year, Steve. STEVE I we one would miss this view if one went away, wouldn't one? HENRIETTA How strangely you speak! Oh, Stephen, I wish you'd go to Dr. Russell. Don't think my 30 SUPPRESSED DESIRES fears have abated because I've been able to re strain myself. I had to go on account of Mabel. But now, dear won't you go ? STEVE I (he breaks off, turns on the light, then comes and sits beside Henrietta) How long have we been married, Henrietta? HENRIETTA Stephen, I don't understand you! You must go to Dr. Russell. STEVE I have gone. HENRIETTA You what ? STEVE (jauntily) Yes, Henrietta, I've been psyched. HENRIETTA You went to Dr. Russell ? STEVE The same. HENRIETTA And what did he say? STEVE He said I I was a little surprised by what he said, Henrietta. ; HENRIETTA (breathlessly) Of course one can so seldom anticipate. But tell me- your dream, Stephen ! It means STEVE It means I was considerably surprised by what it means. HENRIETTA Don't be so exasperating! THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS STEVE It means you really want to know, Henrietta ? HENRIETTA Stephen, you'll drive me mad! STEVE He said of course he may be wrong in what he said. HENRIETTA He isn't wrong. Tell me ! STEVE He said my dream of the walls receding and leaving me alone in a forest indicates a sup pressed desire HENRIETTA Yes yes ! STEVE To be freed from HENRIETTA Yes freed from STEVE Marriage. HENRIETTA (crumples. Stares) Marriage ! STEVE He he may be mistaken, you know. HENRIETTA May be mistaken? STEVE I well, of course, I hadn't taken any stock in it myself. It was only your great confidence HENRIETTA Stephen, are you telling me that Dr. Russell Dr. A. E. Russell told you this? (Steve nods) 32 SUPPRESSED DESIRES Told you you had a suppressed desire to sep arate from me? STEVE That's what he said. HENRIETTA Did he know who you were? STEVE Yes. HENRIETTA That you were married to me? STEVE Yes, he knew that. HENRIETTA And he told you to leave me? STEVE It seems he must be wrong, Henrietta. HENRIETTA (rising) And I've sent him more patients! (Catches herself and resumes coldly) What reason did he give for this analysis? STEVE He says the confining walls are a symbol of my feeling about marriage and that their fading away is a wish-fulfillment. HENRIETTA (gulping) Well, is it? Do you want our marriage to end? STEVE It was a great surprise to me that I did. You see I hadn't known what was in my unconscious mind. HENRIETTA (flaming) What did you tell Dr. Russell about me to make him think you weren't happy? 33 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS STEVE ' I never told him a thing, Henrietta. He got it all from his confounded clever inferences. I I tried to refute them, but he said that was only part of my self-protective lying. HENRIETTA And that's why you were so happy when you came in just now? STEVE Why, Henrietta, how can you say such a thing? I was sad. Didn't I speak sadly of of the view? Didn't I ask how long we had been married? HENRIETTA (rising) Stephen Brewster, have you no sense of the seriousness of this? Dr. Russell doesn't know what our marriage has been. You do. You should have laughed him down. Confined in life with me ? Did you tell him that I believe in freedom? STEVE I very emphatically told him that his results were a great surprise to me. HENRIETTA But you accepted them. STEVE Oh, not at all. I merely couldn't refute his ar guments. I'm not a psychologist. I came home to talk it over with you. You being a disciple of psychoanalysis HENRIETTA If you are going, I wish you would go to-night ! 34 SUPPRESSED DESIRES STEVE Oh, my dear! I surely I couldn't do that! Think of my feelings. And my laundry hasn't come home. HENRIETTA I ask you to go to-night. Some women would falter at this, Steve, but I am not such a woman. I leave you free. I do not repudiate psychoan alysis ; I say again that it has done great things. It has also made mistakes, of course. But since you accept this analysis (She sits down and pretends to begin work) I have to finish this paper. I wish you would leave me. STEVE (scratches his head, goes to the inner door) I'm sorry, Henrietta, about my unconscious mind. (Alone, Henrietta's face betrays her outraged state of mind disconcerted, resent ful, trying to pull herself together. She attains an air of bravely bearing an outrageous thing. Mabel enters in great excitement.) MABEL (breathless) Henrietta, I'm so glad you're here. And alone? (Looks toward the inner door) Are you alone, Henrietta ? HENRIETTA (With reproving dignity) Very much so. MABEL (rushing to her) Henrietta, he's found it! HENRIETTA (aloof) Who has found what? 35 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MABEL Who has found what? Dr. Russell has found my suppressed desire. HENRIETTA That is interesting. MABEL He finished with me to-day. He got hold of my complex in the most amazing way ! But, oh, Henrietta, it is so terrible ! HENRIETTA Do calm yourself, Mabel. Surely there's no occasion for all this agitation. MABEL But there is! And when you think of the lives that are affected the readjustments that must be made in order to bring the suppressed hell out of me and save me from the insane asylum HENRIETTA The insane asylum ! MABEL You said that's where these complexes brought people ! HENRIETTA What did the doctor tell you, Mabel? MABEL Oh, I don't know how I can tell you it is so awful so unbelievable. HENRIETTA I rather have my hand in at hearing the unbe lievable. MABEL Henrietta, who would ever have thought it? How can it be true? But the doctor is per- 36 SUPPRESSED DESIRES fectly certain that I have a suppressed desire for (Looks at Henrietta, is unable to con tinue.) HENRIETTA Oh, go on, Mabel. I'm not unprepared for what you have to say. MABEL Not unprepared? You mean you have sus pected it? HENRIETTA From the first. It's been my theory all along. MABEL But, Henrietta, I didn't know myself that I had this secret desire for Stephen. HENRIETTA (jumps up) Stephen! MABEL My brother-in-law ! My own sister's husband ! HENRIETTA You have a suppressed desire for Stephen! MABEL Oh, Henrietta, aren't these unconscious selves terrible? They seem so unlike us! HENRIETTA What insane thing are you driving at? MABEL (blubbering) Henrietta, don't you use that word to me. I don't want to go to the insane asylum. HENRIETTA What did Dr. Russell say? MABEL Well, you see oh, it's the strangest thing! But you know the voice in my dream that called 37 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS "Step, Hen !" Dr. Russell found out to-day that when I was a little girl I had 'a story-book in words of one syllable and I read the name Stephen wrong. I used to read it S-t-e-p, step, h-e-n, hen. (Dramatically) Step Hen is Stephen. (Enter Stephen, his head bent over a time-table) Stephen is Step Hen! STEVE I? Step Hen? MABEL (triumphantly) S-t-e-p, step, H-e-n, hen, Stephen! HENRIETTA (exploding) Well, what if Stephen is Step Hen? (Scorn fully) Step Hen ! Step Hen ! For that ridic ulous coincidence MABEL Coincidence! But it's childish to look at the mere elements of a dream. You have to look into it you have to see what it means! HENRIETTA On account of that trivial, meaningless play on syllables on that flimsy basis you are ready (Wails) O-h! STEVE What on earth's the matter? What has hap pened? Suppose I am Step Hen? What about it? What does it mean? MABEL (crying) It means that I have a suppressed desire for you! STEVE For me! The deuce you have? (Feebly) What er makes you think so? 38 SUPPRESSED DESIRES MABEL Dr. Russell has worked it out scientifically. HENRIETTA Yes. Through the amazing discovery that Step Hen equals Stephen! MABEL (tearfully) Oh, that isn't all that isn't near all. Henri etta won't give me a chance to tell it. She'd rather I'd go to the insane asylum than be un conventional. HENRIETTA We'll all go there if you can't control yourself. We are still waiting for some rational report. MABEL (drying her eyes) Oh, there's such a lot about names. (With some pride) I don't see how I ever did it. It all works in together. I dreamed I was a hen because that's the first syllable of Hen-rietta's name; and when I dreamed I was a hen, I was putting myself in Henrietta's place. HENRIETTA With Stephen? MABEL With Stephen. HENRIETTA {outraged) Oh! (Turns in rage upon Stephen, who is fan ning himself with the time-table) What are you doing with that time-table? STEVE Why I thought you were so keen to have me go to-night I thought I'd just take a run up to Canada, and join Billy a little shooting but 39 THE PROVINCETQWN PLAYS MABEL But there's more about the names. HENTUETTA Mabel, have you thought of Bob dear old Bob your good, kind husband? MABEL Oh, Henrietta, "my good, kind husband !" HENRIETTA Think of him, Mabel, out there alone in Chi cago, working his head ofi, fixing people's teeth for you! MABEL Yes, but think of the living Libido in conflict with petrified moral codes! And think of the perfectly wonderful way the names all prc Dr. Russell said he's never seen anything more convincing. Just look at Stephen's last name Brewster. I dream I'm a hen, the name Brew- ster you have to say its first letter by itself and then the hen that's me she says to him : "Stephen, Be Rooster!" (Henrietta and Ste phen collapse into the nearest chairs.) MABEL I think it's perfectly wonderful! Why, if it wasn't for psychoanalysis you'd never find out how wonderful your own mind is ! STEVE (begins to chuckle) Be Rooster, Stephen, Be Rooster ! HENRIETTA You think it's funny, do you? 40 SUPPRESSED DESIRES STEVE Well, what's to be done about it? Does Mabel have to go away with me? HENRIETTA Do you want Mabel to go away with you? STEVE Well, but Mabel herself her complex her suppressed desire HENRIETTA (going to her) Mabel, are you going to insist on going away with Stephen? MABEL I'd rather go with Stephen than go to the insane asylum ! HENRIETTA For heaven's sake, Mabel, drop that insane asylum! If you did have a suppressed desire for Stephen hidden away in you God knows it isn't hidden now. Dr. Russell has brought it into your consciousness with a vengeance. That's all that's necessary to break up a com plex. Psychoanalysis doesn't say you have to gratify every suppressed desire. STEVE (softly) Unless it's for Lyman Eggleston. HENRIETTA (turning on him) Well, if it comes to that, Stephen Brewster, I'd like to know why that interpretation of mine isn't as good as this one ? Step, Hen! STEVE But Be Rooster! (He pauses, chuckling to THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS himself) Step-Hen B-rooster. And Henrietta. Pshaw, my dear, Doc Russell's got you beat a mile! (He turns away and chuckles) Be rooster I MABEL What has Lyman Eggleston got to do with it? STEVE According to Henrietta, you, the hen, have a suppressed desire for E^leston, the egg. MABEL Henrietta, I think that's indecent of you ! He is bald as an egg and little and fat the idea of you thinking such a thing of me ! , HENRIETTA Well, Bob isn't little and bald and fat! Why don't you stick to your own husband? (To Stephen) What if Dr. Russell's interpretation has got mine "beat a mile?" (Resentful look at him) It would only mean that Mabel doesn't want Eggleston and does want you. Does that mean she has to have you? MABEL But you said Mabel Snow HENRIETTA Mary Snow! You're not as much like her as you think substituting your name for hers ! The cases are entirely different. Oh, I wouldn't have believed this of you, Mabel. (Beginning to cry) I brought you here for a pleasant visit thought you needed brightening up wanted to be nice to you and now you my husband you insist (In fumbling her way to her 42 SUPPRESSED DESIRES chair she brushes to the floor some sheets from the psychoanalytical table.) STEVE (with solicitude) Careful, dear. Your paper on psychoanalysis ! (Gathers up sheets and of fers them to her.) HENRIETTA I don't want my paper on psychoanalysis I I'm sick of psychoanalysis I STEVE (eagerly) Do you mean that, Henrietta? HENRIETTA Why shouldn't I mean it? Look at all I've done for psychoanalysis and (raising a tear- stained face) what has psychoanalysis done for me? STEVE Do you mean, Henrietta, that you're going to stop talking psychoanalysis? HENRIETTA Why shouldn't I stop talking it? Haven't I seen what it does to people ? Mabel has gone crazy about psychoanalysis! (At the word "crazy," with a moan, Mabel sinks to chair and buries her face in her hands.) STEVE (solemnly) Do you swear never to wake me up in the night to find out what I'm dreaming? HENRIETTA Dream what you please I don't care what you're dreaming. 43 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS STEVE Will you clear off my work-table so the Journal of Morbid Psychology doesn't stare me in the face when I'm trying to plan a house? HENRIETTA (pushing a stack of periodicals of the table) I'll burn the Journal of Morbid Psychology ! STEVE My dear Henrietta, if you're going to separate from psychoanalysis, there's no reason why I should separate from you. (They embrace ardently. Mabel lifts her head and looks at them woefully.) MABEL (jumping up and going toward them) But what about me? What am I to do with my suppressed desire? STEVE (with one arm still around Henrietta, gives Mabel a brotherly hug) Mabel, you just keep right on suppressing it! [CURTAIN] 44 ARIA DA CAPO A PLAY BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY Copyright, 1920, BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY All Rights Reserved First printed in "Reedy's Mirror," St. Louis. Application to produce this play should be made to Edna St. Vincent Millay, in care of the Provincetown Players, 133 Macdougal St., New York. PERSONS PIERROT COLUMBINE COTHURNUS (masque of tragedy) THYRSIS (shepherd) CoRYDON (shepherd) ARIA DA CAPO SCENE A Stage The curtain rises on a stage set for a Harlequin ade, a merry black and white interior. Di rectly behind the footlights, and running par allel with them, is a long table, covered with a gay black and white cloth, on which is spread a banquet. At the opposite ends of this table, seated on delicate thin-legged chairs with high backs, are Pierrot and Columbine, dressed ac cording to the tradition, excepting that Pierrot is in lilac, and Columbine in pink. They are dining. COLUMBINE Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon ! PIERROT My only love, you are so intense. . . . It is Tuesday, Columbine? I'll kiss you if it's Tues day. COLUMBINE It is Wednesday, if you must know. ... Is this my artichoke, or yours? PIERROT Ah, Columbine, as if it mattered ! Wednesday. Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, by any chance? THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS COLUMBINE To-morrow will be Pierrot, that isn't funny ! PIERROT I thought it rather nice. Well, let us drink some wine and lose our heads and love each other. *- COLUMBINE Pierrot, don't you love me now? PIERROT La, what a woman! How should I know? Pour me some wine; I'll tell you presently. COLUMBINE Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much! PIERROT Yes, I dare say I do. . . . Or else too little. It used to tell. You see, I am always wanting a little more than what I have or else a little less. There's something wrong. My dear, how many fingers have you? COLUMBINE La, indeed, how should I know? It always takes my one hand to count the other with. It's too confusing. Why? PIERROT Why? I am a student, Columbine, and search into all matters. COLUMBINE La, indeed? Count them yourself, then! PIERROT No. Or, rather, nay. 'Tis of no consequence. . . . I am become a painter, suddenly and you impress me Ah, yes! six orange bull's- ARIA DA CAPO eyes, four green pin-wheels, and one magenta jelly-roll the title as follows: Woman Tak ing In Cheese From Fire-Escape. COLUMBINE Well, I like that! So that is all I've meant to you! PIERROT Hush! All at once I am become a pianist. I will image you in sound, ... on a new scale . . . without tonality. . . . Vivace senza tempo senza tutto. . . . Title : Up town Express at Six O' Clock. Pour me a drink. COLUMBINE Pierrot, you work too hard. You need a rest. Come on out into the garden, and sing me some thing sad. PIERROT Don't stand so near me! I am become a so cialist. I love humanity, but I hate people. Columbine, put on your mittens, child; your hands are cold. COLUMBINE My hands are not cold. PIERROT Oh, I am sure they are. And you must have a shawl to wrap about you, and sit by the fire. COLUMBINE Why, I'll do no such thing ! I'm hot as a spoon in a tea-cup! PIERROT Columbine, I'm a philanthropist. I know I am, because I feel so restless. Do not scream, or it will be the worse for you ! 49 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS COLUMBINE Pierrot, my vinaigrette I I cannot live without my vinaigrette I PIERROT My only love, you are so fundamental ! . . . How would you like to be an actress, Colum bine? I am become your manager. COLUMBINE Why, Pierrot, 7 can't act. PIERROT Can't act! Can't act! La, listen to the woman ! What's that to do with the price of furs? You're blonde, are you not? You have no education, have you? Can't act! You underrate yourself, my dear ! COLUMBINE Yes, I suppose I do. PIERROT As for the rest, I'll teach you how to cry, and how to die, and other little tricks; and the house will love you. You'll be a star by five o'clock. . . . That is, if you will let me pay for your apartment. COLUMBINE Let you? Well, that's a good one! Ha! Ha; Ha! But why? PIERROT But why? Well, as to that, my dear, I cannot say. It's just a matter of form. COLUMBINE Pierrot, I'm getting tired of caviar and pea cocks' livers. Isn't there something else that 50 ARIA DA CAPO people eat some humble vegetable that grows in the ground? PIERROT Well, there are mushrooms. COLUMBINE Mushrooms! That's so! I had forgotten . . . mushrooms . . . mushrooms. . . . I cannot live with. . . . How do you like this gown? PIERROT Not much. I'm tired of gowns that have the waist-line about the waist, and the hem around the bottom, and women with their breasts in front of them! Zut and ehel Where does one go from here ! COLUMBINE Here's a persimmon, love. You always liked them. PIERROT I am become a critic; there is nothing I can enjoy. . . . However, set it aside ; I'll eat it between meals. COLUMBINE Pierrot, do you know, sometimes I think you're making fun of me. PIERROT My love, by yon black moon, you wrong us both. COLUMBINE There isn't a sign of a moon, Pierrot. PIERROT Of course not. There never was. "Moon's" just a word to swear by. "Mutton!" now THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS there's a thing you can lay the hands on, and set the tooth in I Listen, Columbine : I always lied about the moon and you. Food is my only lust. COLUMBINE Well, eat it, then, for heaven's sake, and stop your silly noise ! I haven't heard the clock tick for an hour. PIERROT It's ticking all the same. If you were a fly, you would be dead by now. And if I were a parrot, I could be talking for a thousand years ! (En ters Cothurnus.) PIERROT Hello, what's this, for God's sake? What's the matter? Say, whadda you mean? Get off the stage, my friend, and pinch yourself you're walking in your sleep I COTHURNUS I never sleep. PIERROT Well, anyhow, clear out. You don't belong on here. Wait for your own scene ! Whadda you think this is a dress-rehearsal? COTHURNUS Sir, I am tired of waiting. I will wait no longer. PIERROT Well, but what are you going to do? The scene is set for me! COTHURNUS True, sir; yet I can play the scene. 52 ARIA DA CAPO PIERROT Your scene is down for later! COTHURNUS That, too, is true, sir; but I play it now. PIERROT Oh, very well. Anyway, I am tired of black and white. At least, I think I am. (Exit Col umbine) Yes, I am sure I am. I know what I'll do ! I'll go and strum the moon that's what I'll do. ... Unless, perhaps, . . . you never can tell ... I may be, you know, tired of the moon. Well, anyway, I'll go find Columbine. . . . And when I find her, I will address her thus : "Ehe Pierrette !" There's something in that. (Exit Pierrot.) COTHURNUS You, Thyrsis! Corydon! Where are you? THYRSIS Sir, we are in our dressing-room! COTHURNUS Come out and do the scene. CORYDON You are mocking us ! The scene is down for later. COTHURNUS That is true ; but we will play it now. I am the scene. (Seats himself on high place in back of stage. Enter Corydon and Thyrsis.) CORYDON Sir, we were counting on this little hour. We said, "Here is an hour, in which to think a mighty thought, and sing a trifling song, and look at nothing." And, behold! the hour, even 53 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS as we spoke, was over, and the act begun, under our feet I THYRSIS Sir, we are not in the fancy to play the play. We had thought to play it later. CORYDON Besides, this is the setting for a farce. Our scene requires a wall; we cannot build a wall of tissue-paper 1 THYRSIS We cannot act a tragedy with comic properties ! COTHURNUS Try it and see. I think you'll find you can. One wall is like another. And regarding the mat ter of your insufficient wood, the important thing is that you speak the lines, and make the gestures. Wherefore I shall remain through out, and hold the prompt-book. Are you ready ? CORYDON-THYRSIS (sorrow fully) Sir, we are always ready. COTHURNUS Play the play! (Cory don and Thyrsis move the table and chairs to one side out of the way, and seat themselves in a half -re dining position on the floor, left of the center of the stage, propped up by crepe paper pillows and bolsters, in place of rocks.) THYRSIS How gently in the silence, Corydon, our sheep go up the bank. They crop a grass that's yel low where the sun is out, and black where the clouds drag their shadows. Have you noticed 54 ARIA DA CAPO how steadily, yet with what a slanting eye they graze ? CORYDON As if they thought of other things. What say you, Thyrsis ; do they only question where next to pull ? Or do their far minds draw them thus vaguely north of west and south of east? THYRSIS One cannot say. . . . The black lamb wears its burdocks as if they were a garland have you noticed ? Purple and white and drink the bitten grass as if it were a wine. CORYDON I've noticed that. What say you, Thyrsis ; shall we make a song about a lamb that thought him self a shepherd? THYRSIS Why, yes! that is, why no. I have forgot ten my line. COTHURNUS (prompting) "I know a game worth two of that." THYRSIS Oh, yes. ... I know a game worth two of that: Let's gather rocks, and build a wall be tween us; and say that over there belongs to me, and over here to you! CORYDON Why very well. And say you may not come upon my side unless I say you may! THYRSIS Nor you on mine ! And if you should, 'twould be the worse for you! (They weave a wall of colored crepe paper ribbons from the center 55 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS front to the center back of the stage y fastening the ends to Columbine's chair in front and to Pierrot's chair in the back.) CORYDON Now, there's a wall a man may see across, but not attempt to scale. THYRSIS An excellent wall. CORYDON Come, let us separate, and sit alone a little while, and lay a plot whereby we may outdo each other. (They seat themselves on oppo site sides of the wall.) PIERROT (of stage) Ehe, Pierrette ! COLUMBINE (of stage) My name is Columbine! Leave me alone ! THYRSIS (coming up to the wall) Corydon, after all, and in spite of the fact I started it myself, I do not like this so very much. What is the sense of saying I do not want you on my side the wall ? It is a silly game. I'd much prefer mak ing the little song you spoke of making, about the lamb, you know, that thought himself a shepherd! What do you say? (Pause.) CORYDON (at wall) I have forgotten the line. COTHURNUS (prompting) "How do I know this isn't a trick?" 56 ARIA DA CAPO CORYDON Oh, yes. . . . How do I know this isn't a trick to get upon my land? THYRSIS Oh, Corydon, you know it's not a trick. I do not like the game, that's all. Come over here, or let me come over there. CORYDON It is a clever trick to get upon my land. (Seats himself as before.) THYRSIS Oh, very well I (Seats himself . . . as be- fore) (To himself) I think I never knew a sillier game. CORYDON (coming to wall) Oh, Thyrsis, just a minute ! All the water is on your side the wall, and the sheep are thirsty. I hadn't thought of that. THYRSIS Oh, hadn't you? CORYDON Why, what do you mean? THYRSIS What do I mean? I mean that I can play a game as well as you can. And if the pool is on my side, it's on my side, that's all. CORYDON You mean you'd let the sheep go thirsty? THYRSIS Well, they're not my sheep. My sheep have water enough. 57 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS f(~JT? YT")ON Your sheep ! You are mad, to call them yours mine they are all one flock! Thyrsis, you can't mean to keep the water from them just because they happened to be grazing over here instead of over there, when we set the wall up? l? Wait and see! And if you try to lead them over here, you'll wish you hadn t CORYDON I wonder how it happens all the water is on your side. . . . I'll say you had an eye out for lots of little things, my innocent friend, when I said, "Let us make a song,' and you said, "I know a game worth two of that! COLUMBINE ^ u (of stage) D'you know, I think you must be getting old, or fat, or something stupid, any way! Can't you put on some other kind collar? THYRSIS You know as well as I do , Corydon, I never thought of anything of the kind. Don t you? CORYDON I do not. THYRSIS Don't you? suppose so. Thyrsis, let's drop this what do you say? It's only a game, you know. We seem to be forgetting it s only a game . . . a pretty serious game it's getting 58 ARIA DA CAPO to be, when one of us is willing to let the sheep go thirsty, for the sake of it. THYRSIS I know it, Corydon. (They reach out their arms to each other across the wall.) COTHURNUS (prompting) "But how do I know?" THYRSIS Oh, yes. . . . But how do I know this isn't a trick to water your sheep, and get the laugh on me? CORYDON You can't know; that's the difficult thing about it. Of course, you can't be sure; you have to take my word for it and I know just how you feel. But one of us has to take a risk, or else, why, don't you see? the game goes on forever. It's terrible, when you stop to think of it. ... Oh, Thyrsis, now for the first time I feel this wall is actually a wall a thing come up be tween us shutting me away from you. . . . I do not know you any more ! THYRSIS No, don't say that ! Oh, Corydon, I'm willing to drop it all, if you will ! Come on over and water your sheep! It is an ugly game. I hate, it from the first. . . . How did it start? CORYDON I do not know ... I do not know. . . I think I am afraid of you ! You are a stranger ! I never set eyes on you before!' "Come over and water my sheep," indeed ! They'll be more thirsty than they are now, before I bring them 59 THE PROVINCETQWN PLAYS over into your land, and have you mixing them up with yours, and calling them yours, and try ing to keep them ! (Enter Columbine.) COLUMBINE (to Cothurnus) Glummy, I want my hat. THYRSIS Take it, and go. COLUMBINE Take it and go, indeed ! Is it my hat, or isn't it? Is this my scene, or not? Take it, and go ! Really, you know you two are awfully funny! (Exit Columbine.) THYRSIS Corydon, my friend, I'm going to leave you now and whittle me a pipe, or sing a song, or go to sleep. When you have come to your senses, let me know. (Goes back to where he has been sitting, lies down and. sleeps.) (Cory- don, in going back to where he has been sitting, stumbles over bowl of colored confetti and col ored paper ribbons.) CORYDON Why, what is this? Red stones and purple stones and stones stuck full of gold! The ground is full of gold and colored stones ! . . . I'm glad the wall was up before I found them, otherwise I should have had to share them. As it is, they all belong to me. . . . Unless (He goes to wall and digs up and down the length of it, to see if there are jewels on the other side) None here none here none here. They all belong to me! (Sits.) 60 ARIA DA CAPO THYRSIS (awakening) How curious! I thought the little black lamb came up and licked my hair! I saw the wool about its neck as plain as anything! It must have been a dream. The little black lamb is on the other side of the wall, I'm sure. (Goes to wall and looks over. Corydon is seated on the ground, tossing the confetti up into the air and catching it) Hello, what's that you've got there, Corydon? CORYDON Jewels. THYRSIS Jewels? And where did you ever get them. CORYDON Oh, over here. THYRSIS You mean to say you found them by digging around in the ground for them? CORYDON (unpleasantly) No, Thyrsis; by dig ging down for water for my sheep. THYRSIS Corydon, come to the wall a minute, will you? I want to talk to you. CORYDON I haven't time. I'm making me a necklace of red stones. THYRSIS I'll give you all the water that you want for one of those red stones if it's a good one. CORYDON Water what for what do I want of water? 61 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THYRSIS Why, for your sheep I CORYDON My sheep? I'm not a shepherd! THYRSIS Your sheep are dying of thirst. CORYDON Man, haven't I told you I can't be bothered with a few untidy brown sheep, all full of bur docks ? I'm a merchant, that's what I am ! And I set my mind to it, I dare say I could be an emperor! (To himself ) Wouldn't I be a fool to spend my time watching a flock of sheep go up a hill, when I have these to play with when I have these to think about? I can't make up my mind whether to buy a city, and have a thou sand beautiful girls to bathe me, and be happy until I die, or build a bridge, and name it the Bridge of Corydon, and be remembered after I'm dead. THYRSIS Corydon, come to the wall, won't you? I want to tell you something. CORYDON Hush! Be off! Be off! Go finish your nap, I tell you ! THYRSIS Corydon, listen : if you don't want your sheep, give them to me. CORYDON Be off ! Go finish your nap ! A red one and a blue one and a red one and a purple one. Give you my sheep, did you say? Come, come ! 62 ARIA DA CAPO What do you take me for, a fool? I've a lot of thinking to do and while I'm thinking the sheep might just as well be over here as over there. ... A blue one and a red one THYRSIS . But they will die ! CORYDON And a green one and a couple of white ones, for a change. THYRSIS Maybe I have some jewels on my side. CORYDON And another green one maybe, but I don't think so. You see, this rock isn't so very wide. It stops before it gets to the wall. It seems to go quite deep, however. THYRSIS (with hatred) I see. COLUMBINE (of stage) Look, Pierrot, there's the moon! PIERROT (of stage) Nonsense! THYRSIS I see. COLUMBINE (of stage) Sing me an old song, Pierrot something I can remember. PIERROT (of stage) Columbine, your mind is made of crumbs like an escallop of oysters first a layer of crumbs, and then an oyster taste, and then a layer of crumbs. THYRSIS I find no jewels . . . but I wonder what the 63 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS root of this black weed would do to a man if he should taste it. ... I have seen a sheep die, with half the stalk still drooling from its mouth. 'Twould be a speedy remedy, I should think, for a festered pride and a feverish ambi tion. It has a curious root. I think I'll hack it in little pieces. . . . First I'll get me a drink; and then I'll hack that root in little pieces as small as dust, and see what the color is inside. (Goes to bowl on floor) The pool is very clear. I see a shepherd standing on the brink, with a red cloak about him, and a black weed in his hand. . . . ? Tis I. (Kneels and drinks.) CORYDON (coming to wall) Hello, what are you doing, Thyrsis ? THYRSIS Digging for gold. CORYDON I'll give you all the gold you want, if you'll give me a bowl of water. If you don't want too much, that is to say. THYRSIS Ho, so you've changed your mind! It's dif ferent, isn't it, when you want a drink yourself? CORYDON Of course it is. THYRSIS Well, let me see ... a bowl of water come back in an hour, Corydon. I'm busy now. CORYDON Oh, Thyrsis, give me a bowl of water, and I'll fill the bowl with jewels and bring it back! ARIA DA CAPO THYRSIS Be off, I'm busy now. (He catches sight of the weed, picks it up and looks at it, unseen by Cory- don) Wait ! Pick me out the finest stones you have. . . . I'll bring you a drink of water presently. CORYDON (goes back and sits down, with the jewels be fore him) A bowl of jewels is a lot of jewels. THYRSIS (chopping up the weed) I. wonder if it has a bitter taste. CORYDON There's sure to be a stone or two among them I have grown fond of, pouring them from one hand into the other. THYRSIS I hope it doesn't taste too bitter, just at first. CORYDON A bowl of jewels is far too many jewels to give away . . . and not get back again. THYRSIS I don't believe he'll notice he's thirsty he'll gulp it down and never notice. CORYDON There ought to be some way to get them back again. ... I could give him a necklace and snatch it back, after I'd drunk the water, I sup pose . . . why, as for that, of course, a necklace. - ... (He puts two or three of the colored tapes together and tries their strength by pulling them, after which he puts them Around his neck and pulls them, gently, nodding THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS to himself. He gets up and goes to the wall, with the colored tapes in his hands. Thyrsis in the meantime has poured the powdered root black confetti into the pot which contains the flower and filled it up with wine from the punch bowl on the floor. He comes to the wall at the same time, holding the bowl of poison.) THYRSIS Come and get your bowl of water, Corydon. CORYDON Ah, very good! And for such a gift as that I'll give you more than a bowl of unset stones. I'll give you three long necklaces, my friend. Come closer. Here they are. (Puts the rib bons about Thyrsis' neck.) THYRSIS (putting bowl to Corydon's mouth) I'll hold the bowl until you've drunk it all. CORYDON Then hold it steady. For every drop you spill I'll have a stone back out of this chain. THYRSIS I shall not spill a drop. (Corydon drinks, mean while beginning to strangle Thyrsis) THYRSIS Don't pull the string so tight. CORYDON You're spilling the water. THYRSIS You've had enough you've had enough stop pulling the string so tight! CORYDON Why, that's not tight at all. . . . How's this? 66 ARIA DA CAPO THYRSIS (drops bowl) You're strangling me! Oh, Corydon! It's only a game and you are strangling me ! CORYDON It's only a game, is it? Yet I believe youVe poisoned me in earnest! (Writhes and pulls the strings tighter, winding them about Thyrsis' neck.) THYRSIS Corydon ! (Dies.) CORYDON You've poisoned me in earnest. ... I feel so cold. ... So cold. . . . This is a very silly game. . . . Why do we play it ? Let's not play this game a minute more. . . . Let's make a little song about a lamb. . . . I'm coming over the wall, no matter what you say I want to be near you. . . . (Groping his way, with arms wide before him, he strides through the frail papers of the wall without knowing it, and continues seeking for the wall straight across the stage) Where is the wall? (Gropes his way back, and stands very near Thyrsis without knowing it; he speaks slowly) There isn't any wall, I think. (Takes a step forward, his foot touches Thyrsis' body, and he falls down beside^ him) Thyrsis, where is your cloak? Just give me a little bit of your cloak! (Draws corner of Thyrsis' cloak over his shoulders, falls across Thyrsis' body and dies. Cothurnus closes the prompt-book with a bang, arises matter-of-factly, comes down stage, THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS and places the table over the two bodies, draw ing down the cover so that they are hidden from any actors on the stage, but visible to the audi ence, pushing in their feet and hands with his boot. He then turns his back to the audience, and claps his hands twice.) COTHURNUS Strike the scene ! (Exit Cothurnus. Enter Pierrot and Columbine.) PIERROT Don't puff so, Columbine ! COLUMBINE Lord, what a mess this set is in ! If there's one thing I hate above everything else even more than getting my feet wet it's clutter I He might at least have left the scene the way he found it . . don't you say so, Pierrot? (She picks up punch bowl. They arrange chairs as before at ends of table.) PIERROT Well, I don't know. I think it rather diverting the way it is. (Yawns, picks up confetti bowl) Shall we begin? COLUMBINE (screams) My God! What's that there under the table? PIERROT It is the bodies of the two shepherds from the other play. COLUMBINE (slowly) How curious to strangle him like that with col ored paper ribbons. PIERROT Yes, and yet I dare say he is just as dead. 68 ARIA DA CAPO (Pause. Calls Cothurnus) Come, drag these bodies out of here ! We can't sit down and eat with two dead bodies lying under the table! . . . The audience wouldn't stand for it! COTHURNUS (of stage) What makes you think so? Pull down the tablecloth on the other play, and hide them from the house, and play the farce. The audience will forget. PIERROT That's so. Give me a hand there, Columbine. (Pierrot and Columbine pull down the table cover in such a way that the two bodies are hidden from the house, then merrily set their bowls back on the table, draw up their chairs, and begin the play exactly as before, speaking even more rapidly and artificially.) COLUMBINE Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon! PIERROT My only love, you are so intense ! ... Is it Tuesday, Columbine? I'll kiss you if it's Tues day. (Curtains begin to close slowly.) COLUMBINE It is Wednesday, if you must know. ... Is this my artichoke, or yours ? PIERROT Ah, Columbine, as if it mattered ! Wednesday. . . Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, by any chance? . . . [CURTAIN] COCAINE A PLAY IN ONE ACT BY PENDLETON KING Copyright, 1920, BY FRANK SHAY All Rights Reserved Reprinted from No. 5 of "The Provincetown Plays" published by Frank Shay, by special permission of the publisher. The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by The Provincetown Players. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to The Province- town Players, 133 Macdougal St., New York. COCAINE was first produced by The Provincetown Players, under the direction of Margaret Wycherly, on the night of March 9, 1917, with the following caste: JOE Eugene Lincoln NORA Ida Rauh Scene designed and executed by Ira Remsen and Carroll Berry. PERSONS JOE NORA COCAINE The action takes place in an attic bed room on Grand Street, between Allen and the Bowery, in the late summer of 1916, and occupies the time between four o'clock a. m. and daylight. The ceiling slopes down at the back to within a few feet of the floor. There is a dormer window in a recess at back. Door left center, bed at right of window, table left, bureau down left, trunk down right, chair at foot of bed. The room is in terrible disorder and confusion, faintly seen in the glare from open window as curtain rises. Joe is discovered lying on the bed asleep, snoring gently, dressed in undershirt and trousers. He is good looking, powerfully built, twenty-four years old. Nora comes in and lights a candle on the bureau. She is a wistful-looking girl of thirty. JOE Nora, 's 'at you? NORA I didn't mean to wake you up. Go on back to sleep. JOE I haven't been asleep. What time is it? NORA (takes of hat) About four o'clock. 73 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JOE You're pretty late. NORA (takes off jacket) Had to walk from uptown. JOE How far uptown? NORA O, way up town. I let a crowd shake me like a fool. (Sits in chair at foot of bed and fans herself) And didn't have sense enough to get car fare. Whew! You don't realize how hot you are till you sit down. JOE Poor kid. NORA You must have had the gas lighted to make it as hot as this in here. Lord, I'm so glad to get home. JOE (gently) You didn't bring in nothing? NORA Not a cent, Joe. (Gets up and goes to bureau) I don't know what's the matter with me. (Looks in glass) It's that darn fever blister. If I had only had sense enough to get some camphor that first day. JOE But it's most well now. Can't hardly notice it any more. NORA Of course it's perfectly well. There won't be a trace of it to-morrow. I oughtn't to have tried to go out those two days the first of the 74 COCAINE week when it was so bad. Everybody was afraid of me and it made me feel like a leper. I lost my grip in some way and now I can't get it back. It all depends on yourself. (Picks up candle) If you're sure of yourself you have luck; if you aren't, you don't. That's all there is to it. (Crosses with candle, which she puts down on trunk) If I'd had a wee bit of a sniff to-night I'd have got some money out of that crowd. (Sits on foot of the bed) But drinks don't brace me up somehow. JOE Hum. 'sright. NORA Poor old boy. Have you been lying here all night in this heat waiting for me? It's hard ,luck on you, Joe. Oh, I thought I'd go crazy to-night! My nerves are just all to pieces. I did think I was going to get some money this time. JOE Why don't you take your clothes off and come on to bed? NORA (gets up and takes a packet of cigarettes out of her jacket) I swiped these for you, anyway. Here. (Throws him the box.) JOE (catching it) Gee ! Ta ! NORA Joe, I wish you wouldn't say u Ta." (Goes up into recess) I don't know why I hate it so. (She begins to undress.) 75 THE PRQVINCETOWN PLAYS JOE All right, Missis. (Gets up to light his cigarette with the candle) Common stuff, uhm? NORA (undressing) No, it doesn't matter. I'm just nervous and irritable. Don't pay any attention to anything I say. If I don't get some money to-morrow I just don't know what I'll do. It's terrible to be so dependent on anything as that. JOE (lies down again) Four days. NORA No, to-night's Saturday. JOE Well, that's four days, ain't it? We finished up that last deck Tuesday night. NORA That's right. I wouldn't have believed I could go so long. I don't see how you stand it, Joe, all night like this, doing nothing. JOE I been out. Don't worry about me. I can git on without de stuff for awhile. NORA (comes down in kimono) I can't. (Takes cigarette) But then I've been using it so much longer than you have. (Lights cigarette at the candle.) JOE I been goin' it some little time a month or so before we took up together last summer. NORA To think. (Sits on bed) Only a year. I won- 76 COCAINE der what would have become of you if I hadn't found you? JOE What becomes of all de other poor bastards who gets knocked put and can't get back in de ring? I don't know. NORA That's the trouble with you boys. You are brought up with only one idea to fight and if anything does happen to you, you're not fit to do anything else. You're only twenty-four, and you're done. JOE Be twenty-four in October, I guess. NORA Lord, it makes me feel so old. That's how you stand the strain the way you do. You are as firm and strong as you ever were, and look at me! JOE Well, if a fellow has to do as much trainin' as I used to, he more or less keeps in condition, I guess. NORA , (lies down beside him) I feel so old, and tired, and discouraged, Joe. If I didn't have you I don't think I'd go on with it. JOE (tightens his arm about her) I'm stickin' to you, see? NORA I never thought of your leaving me. (She puts her arm up about his head and strokes his hair) 77 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS I love you too much, Joe. I love you more than anybody else will ever love you if you live to be a thousand years old. JOE I don't reckon anybody' d love me much if I was that old. NORA (laughs) I should. But you're only a baby now. A little old infant. (She snuggles up to him and presses her cheek to his) Joe? JOE Urn? NORA (in a whisper) My darling. (He gathers her closer. Long pause.) ^ Tired, kid? NORA No, not now. I get strength from you. You've got plenty of strength for both of us, haven't you ? Um ? JOE It's funny, ain't it, for a girl like you to take up wid a rough guy like me, dat ain't never know'd nothin' but how to get his heart put on the blink! Dope brings funny people together. NORA Not so funny. JOE You needn't tell me, kid. I may be nothing but a prizefighter, but I can tell a lady when I see one. And, besides, you won't even own up to it. That's a sure sign. 78 COCAINE NORA (laughs) Not a very fine kind of a lady. I've told you all about myself. I did work on the Evening Sun, and before that I used to live on a farm in Kentucky. That's all there is. JOE Well, that's what you say. I don't want you to tell me nothing you don't want to. (Moves his position slightly) Are you all right? NORA Yes. JOE I got something I want to talk to you about. We're up against it. NORA I know we are. And yet I can lie here like this and it doesn't seem possible that there is such a thing as trouble in the world. It is so serene to lie still, and just stroke your hair. I don't want ever to move again. I can feel your heart beating. Do you feel how much faster mine is going than yours? JOE Yeah. (The sound of the Elevated is heard.) NORA The Elevated sounds like wind. Like a spirit that can't rest. The spirit of the city, that goes on and on day and night and never stops and never will stop, no matter what becomes of you and me. But when I am lying close to you like this, touching you, there's a sort of electric cur rent that radiates from you all over because 79 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS you're so alive. What was I going to say? What was I talking about? JOE You was talking about the El. NORA Yes. I was going to say while I am lying close to you like this it all seems so far away, doesn't it? It is like lying snug in bed and listening to the sea. There may be death and storms and shipwrecks and things out there, but they're far away. They can never touch us. JOE I wisht we could get a good old sniff, and for get our troubles right. NORA Poor old Joe. (Raises up and sits on the side of the bed again) I declare I thought I would go crazy to-night; I haven't got a nerve left in my body. I wanted to know what you were doing. I thought all sorts of fool things. I could picture you getting desperate and break ing in somewhere and getting locked up, and I don't know what. JOE I could have got some stuff to-night, at that. NORA What do you mean ? How ? Who ? JOE The landlady. She was up here talking to me about it. NORA When she knows how broke we arc ? We owe her two weeks' rent. 80 COCAINE JOE No, I guess she would have give me some. NORA How do you mean, Joe? JOE You know. NORA Do you mean to tell me that woman has been up here after you again? (Her eyes narrow) I knew something was the matter. Did you What did you tell her ? JOE Told her to get to hell out of here. What do you think I told her? I said I was off de stuff. NORA (buries her head in his shoulder) O, Joe. JOE Well, I didn't want it so bad, then. She come up here when she heard me come in, about twelve o'clock, and put it up to me. NORA (desperate) If we had any other place on earth we could go, I would have got out of this house the night you told me she first came up here and bothered you. But we couldn't get another place. She'd hold our things until we paid her. And I haven't got a dollar to deposit on a room. I suppose she knows all that. JOE That's what I got to talk to you about. She's going to kick us out. NORA Kick us out? 81 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JOE That's what she says. Unless NORA Unless what? JOE Well you know I been thinking pretty hard and figurin' on puttin' it up to you, if you think it's worth while just to keep the room on and have a place to sleep. You see NORA What are you talking about? JOE Well, I think the old lady's reasonable. She come up here and made a big fuss over me and said she was gone on me and all that stuff, and I was staying on in her house and not paying no rent and everything, and if I was too good for her I'd have to get out of her house, that's all. That was after she offered me the dope. NORA Joe, am I mad or what are you talking about? JOE Well NORA Never let me hear that again. Do you think I'd let you JOE Well, I let you, don't I ? NORA That's altogether a different matter. Don't ever let me hear that again, do you understand? I can't argue about it. (Gets up and crosses to bureau) God, it's hot in here ! 82 COCAINE JOE (swings his feet out and sits on the side of the bed. Kindly) Now look here, kid. (Stands a moment and goes over to her) I got to live, ain't I? You are the swellest little girl any fellow ever had and all that, and I'm awful fond of you, but we got to live. We got to do something. We got to get some money some way. If we can't get on the way we been gettin' on then I got to shift for myself, see? (Takes her by the shoulders) I'm putting it up to you square, because I'm goin' to be straight with you. NORA Of course we've got to do something. I'll do something. I'll get some money. You don't understand what you are saying. If it were the last night we'd ever spend under a roof it wouldn't alter the question. JOE (turns back to the bed) By God, it looks like it is the last night, with the luck you're having. (He sits and leans his chin on his right hand, gazing at the candle) If I was able to do any kind of work it'd be different. But de stuff's got me, I guess. I couldn't no more stick to any kind of a job than I could fly. You reckon if I was able to get back in the ring I'd have you working? But we're up against it, that's all. As long as you can bring in the money all right. But you ain't having any luck, and I just got to do it, that's all. If I'm willing for you to go out every night, I don't 83 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS see why you kick on one old measly land lady. NORA But, Joe, you don't understand. (Crosses to bed) Listen to me. (Sits beside him) You don't love me the way I do you. It isn't your fault. It's the way you're made. I can go out, as you call it It's a sort of sacrifice to you, a sort of way of showing how much I love you. It doesn't matter about me. You are the clean part of me. You are part I live for. And you are sacred, do you understand? Clean. JOE (Still gazing at candle) Sure, I get you. (Nora slips down on one knee and buries her face against his arm) And I've always been straight with you. 'I think a whole lot more of you than you think. NORA Go on. Say you love me. I love to hear you say it. JOE (puts his left arm about her) I love you all right. And I'll stick to you. But we got to live, ain't we? We got to get some money some way. And if you can't get it, I got to. That's if we're going to stick together. NORA No, you haven't, Joe. I'd rather be dead. (Raises up) I'll starve to death before I'll see you do that, and let you starve to death. (Gets up) The horrible old slut. I think I'll kill 84 COCAINE her. (Goes up into alcove and looks out of window.) JOE O, we can get out of here if you want to. It don't have to be her. There's more'n one way of pickin' up money round this town. NORA (turns toward him) What do you mean? JOE I guess you must know. It's the only way I see. I ain't got nothing but my looks. NORA (turns back to window) Joe, don't talk like that, please. JOE (kindly) We got to, kid. We're up against it. I'm go ing to be fair with you ; that thing you got on your mouth ain't going to get well so as you can't see it for two or three days yet. We get kicked out of here to-day. What the hell can we do? Sleep in the park? I guess not. Not while I got a way to make easy money. Why, kid, I wisht you'd see the number of 'em tries to speak to me every time I go out. It's easy, I tell you. And there's good money in it. I don't like to talk about it 'specially with you but we got to if we're going to stick to gether. We can get a nice room somewheres and keep a little stuff on hand all the time. I ain't going to leave you. But I gotta have de stuff, that's all. (Lies down on the bed and turns toward the wall) I've gone without it four days now. 85 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS NORA (comes down and crosses to trunk) You are a strange boy. (Sits on end of trunk facing him) Can't you see that you are the only thing I've got left in the world? JOE But I ain't leaving you, I tell you. NORA Don't you understand that I found you when you were down and out done for? That you belong to me? I saved you from this very thing, I suppose, a year ago. Don't you see, darling ? JOE (turns on his back) But I'm not Gee, Nora, can't you listen to me? I don't want to do it, kid, but we got to, to live. NORA But don't you understand that I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole afterwards? Don't you see that? JOE (turning back in a huff) Of course, if you feel that way about it, we can bust up, 's far as that goes. If you don't think no more about me than that. NORA (stands up against the wall. Right) Don't, Joe. JOE (sits up in bed) I've always been straight with you. I've treated you right all the way, and I'm trying to stick by you. But of course, if 86 COCAINE that's the way you feel about it, all right. I got to live, ain't I ? NORA No. JOE What do you mean by no? NORA I don't see any reason why we should live. JOE Well, I'm going to live. NORA (sits down on bed and tries to turn him towards her) Joe, my darling, listen to me. You've been a wonderful boy, and I love you as very few people have ever been loved in this world. Because I had lost everything, you see, when I found you, everything. I had thrown every thing away. And you've had to be the whole world for me since. The whole world, you see. There isn't anything else. When the dope got me I just went down because I didn't care about anything. I gave up my job and just let myself slide. I intended to kill myself when my money gave out, and I didn't even care how much I had left. Then I found you that night at Mitchell's place. JOE (turns on his back) I remember. NORA (Puts her head down on his chest) You can't remember much. I can't bear to think even now how you were beat up. But you were so full of it you didn't know your arm was broken. THE PROVINCETQWN PLAYS JOE That's right. I think it was broke about two days before that. I remember when it went. NORA And since then, Joe, we've had a wonderful time. Do you remember when we used to have to sleep under the Bridge? I love that old Bridge now because it's associated in my mind with you. JOE We had a good time, v all right. NORA (straightens up) "But now the white sails of our ship are furled, And spent the lading of our argosy." We've come to the end of our tether, Joe. JOE Um. NORA What do you say we don't go on with it? JOE What do you mean don't go on with it? NORA Turn on the gas. JOE (sit sup) Nix! What a re you gettin' at? (Lies down) Not for mine. NORA Joe, we've had such a wonderful time. We've known everything there is to know in the world worth knowing. Don't let's go down hill. We've reached the top. Let's let this be the end. I can't keep you any longer and have got to let you go. And I won't do it, that's all. 88 COCAINE JOE (sits up and props himself against the head of the bed incredulously) You must be kiddin'. Aw, come on. NORA (quietly) I never was more serious in my life. I can't go on with it, and I won't leave you behind to live without me. It's you that I love the little strange spirit that makes you you, and different to everybody else that ever lived. If you go on you are going to destroy that. Then you won't be you, and I won't love you any more. Think! This may be the last night we'll ever spend together the last chance we'll have. Let's turn it on now. No telling (she -turns front) what'll happen in the daylight to-mor row. I can't wait to face it. JOE I don't want to, kid, It ain't right to kill your self. NORA Are you afraid to die? JOE Sure I'm not afraid to die. NORA What have you got to live for? JOE Well, a lot of things, I guess. NORA Joe, you've slipped. You've slipped away fur ther than I thought. The stuff's got you sure enough. You've slipped further than I have. THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JOE I guess not. I'm not so bad oft as that. NORA (slightly hysterical) You're pretty bad off, Joe. Don't you see that your life is finished. You are nothing. You are less than nothing. What you really are is the lowest thing that can be on earth, and here you talk calmly about something even worse. There's no reason for you to go on living ex cept your fear of death. JOE I'm not afraid of dying, I tell you. NORA (rising) Well, let me turn on the gas, then. I'm not afraid. Look at me. Think of the trouble it takes to live. Think of the effort to keep your self going on and on, like a rat in a trap. And when you lose me you'll just slip and slip. And you've got to die in the end anyhow. And when you're dead it won't make any difference to you how long you lived. It will be just as if you'd never been born. JOE (sits up and follows her with his eyes) I don't get you. NORA O, I just can't face the daylight again, Joe. I'm too tired. Aren't you tired? What will be come of you without me to take care of you? (She is edging towards the gas jet in the al cove.) JOE I don't know. 90 COCAINE NORA Let's turn on the gas. Then we won't have to wake up in the morning and be bothered. And you can't tell maybe But I believe you're scared. JOE (lies down and turns face to the wall petulantly) Aw, turn on your God-damned gas. I'll show you whether I'm scared. NORA (in an excited whisper) O, Joe ! (She closes the window and hangs an old skirt over it, turns on the gas jet and the gas stove on the table, then comes down on tiptoe, trem bling, and blows out the candle on the trunk. The stage is completely dark.) JOE Did you turn it on ? NORA (gets back into the bed) Yes; the stove, too. JOE How long will it take ? NORA Not long, I think. I don't know. Don't let's talk about it. Joe, do you think I've got the right to take you with me? JOE With you? Where? NORA Now like this. But I couldn't bear for any body else to have you, Joe. THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JOE Gee, you're tremblin'. I believe you're scared now. NORA I'm not scared. I'm just happy. JOE Happy? NORA I thought I'd lost you, Joe. JOE Um. (Very long pause) This is a tough thing to do, all right, kid. You reckon they'll put it in the papers? NORA I expect so. JOE Will they put in much? They'll be sure to find out who we was. You got letters and stuff in the trunk. NORA We weren't anybody much. I expect they've forgotten about us. JOE Aw, they got to put it in the papers. NORA They'll put in something. Please don't let's . talk about it. Joe? JOE Um? NORA (in a whisper) My darling! (Long pause.) 92 COCAINE JOE (with a tremor in his voice) I don't smell no gas. NORA It hasn't had time yet. Maybe we won't smell it. JOE Gee, we got to smell it. ( The bed creaks) I don't smell nothing way down here. NORA Just wait and you will. It's only been on a minute. O, Joe, come on back here. We've only got such a little while. JOE I'm going to see what's the matter. Gimme a match. ( The bed creaks as he gets out.) NORA For heaven's sake, don't strike a match ! Might be an explosion! JOE It can't blow up if you can't smell it. (He finds matches on the trunk and crosses to center stage) I can smell it over here. (Strikes a match to the gas burner, which lights in a fee ble blue flame) Gee, the meter's run out on us ! NORA (sits up in bed) The meter ? But it can't have run out. (A wave of terror comes over her) Have you been using the gas nights ? JOE Not but very little. 93 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS NORA But that's ridiculous. I haven't got a quarter to put in it. What can we do ? JOE Nothin' 'less we had a quarter. NORA (laughs) But that's ridiculous. We've got to do some thing. JOE Naw, I guess not. NORA But, Joe!!! JOE (with a note of relief in his voice) Naw, I guess it wasn't meant for us to kick out to-night, kid. (Gently) Let's get the window open. (He takes down the old skirt and opens the window. The dawn has come up outside) Gee, it's daylight. [CURTAIN] 94 NIGHT A DRAMA BY JAMES OPPENHEIM Copyright, 1918, BY EGMONT ARENS All Rights Reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to The Provincetown Players, 139 Macdougal St., New York. Reprinted from No. 2 of "The Flying Stag Plays," published by Egmont Arens, 27 West Eighth St., New York, from whom the acting edition may be obtained. NIGHT was first produced by the Provincetown Players on November 2, 1917, with the following cast; THE SCIENTIST, Justus Sheffield THE POET, George Cram Cook THE PRIEST, Hutchinson Collins THE MAN, Rollo Peters THE WOMAN, Ida Rauh The scene and method of playing, suggested by Rollo Peters. The actors appear in silhouette before a lighted blue screen upon a simple mound that suggests a hilltop. NIGHT A Priest, A Poet, A Scientist. Hilltop, in October; the stars shining. (The Priest kneels; the Scientist looks at the heavens through a telescope; the Poet writes in a little note-book.) THE PRIEST When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; What is man, that Thou art mindful of him, And the son of man, that Thou visitest him? THE SCIENTIST Algol which is dim, becomes again a star of the second magnitude. THE POET My beloved is far from this hilltop, where the firs breathe heavily, and the needles fall; But from the middle of the sea She, too, gazes on the lustrous stars of calm October, and in her heart She stands with me beneath these heavens daintily blows Breath of the sighing pines, and from the loaded and bowed-down orchards and from the fields With smokes of the valley, peace steps up on this hill. 97 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE PRIEST Thou art the Shepherd that strides down the Milky Way; Thou art the Lord, our God: glorified be Thy name and Thy works. I see Thee with Thy staff driving the star- sheep to the fold of dawn. THE SCIENTIST The Spiral Nebula in Ursa Major, that forever turns Slowly like a flaming pin-wheel. . .thus are worlds born; Thus was the sun and all the planets a handful a million years ago. THE POET She is far from me. . .but in the cradle of the sea Sleepless she rocks, calling her beloved: he heeds her call : On this hilltop he picks the North Star for his beacon. . . For by that star the sailors steer, and beneath that star She and I are one in the gaze of the heavens. THE PRIEST (Slowly rising and turning to the others.) Let us glorify the Creator of this magnificence of infinite Night, His footstool is the Earth, and we are but the sheep of this Shepherd. THE SCIENTIST Thus shall we only glorify ourselves, NIGHT That of this energy that rolls and drives in suns and planets Are but the split-off forces with cunning brains, And questioning consciousness. . .Pray if you must Only your own ears hear you, and only the heart in your breast Responds to the grandiose emotion. . .See yon der star? That is the great Aldebaron, great in the night, Needing a whole sky, as a vat and a reservoir, which he fills with his flame. . . But no astronomer with his eye to his lenses Has seen ears on the monster. THE PRIEST Thou that hast never seen an atom, nor the ether thou pratest of, Thou that hast never seen the consciousness of man, What knowest thou of the invisible arms about this sky, And the Father that leans above us? THE POET We need know nothing of any Father When the grasses themselves, withering in Oc tober, stand up and sing their own dirges in the great west wind, And every pine is like a winter lodging house where the needles may remember the greenness of the world, And the great shadow is jagged at its top with stars, 99 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS And the heart of man is as a wanderer looking for the light in a window, And the kiss and warm joy of his beloved. THE PRIEST Man of Song and Man of Science, Truly you are as people on the outside of a house, And one of you only sees that it is made of stone, and its windows of glass, and that fire burns in the hearth, And the other of you sees that the house is beautiful and very human, But I have gone inside the house, And I live with the host in that house And have broken bread with him, and drunk his wine, And seen the transfiguration that love and awe make in the brain. . . For that house is the world, and the Lord is my host and my father: It is my father's house. THE SCIENTIST He that has gone mad and insane may call him self a king, And behold himself in a king's palace, with feasting, and dancing women, and with captains, And none can convince him that he is mad, Slave of hallucination . . . We that weigh the atom and weigh a world in the night, and we Who probe down into the brain, and see how desire discolors reality, 100 NIGHT And we that see how chemical energy changes and transforms the molecule, So that one thing and another changes and so man arises With neither microscope, nor telescope, nor spectroscope, nor finest violet ray Have we found any Father lurking in the in tricate unreasonable drive of things And the strange chances of nature. THE POET O Priest, is it not enough that the world and a Woman are very beautiful, And that the works and tragic lives of men are terribly glorious? There is a dance of miracles, of miracles hold ing hands in a chain around the Earth and out through space to the moon, and to the stars, and beyond the stars, And to behold this dance is enough ; So much laughter, and secret looking, and glimpses of wonder, and dreams of ter ror. . . It is enough! It is enough! THE PRIEST Enough? I see what is enough! Machinery is enough for a Scientist, And Beauty is enough for a Poet; But in the hearts of men and women, and in the thirsty hearts of little children There is a hunger, and there is an unappeas able longing, For a Father and for the love of a Father. . . For the root of a soul is mystery, 101 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS And the Night is mystery, And in that mystery men would open inward into Eternity, And know love, the Lord. Blessed be his works, and his angels, and his sons crowned with his glory! (A pause. The Woman with a burden in her arms comes in slowly.) THE WOMAN Who has the secret of life among you? THE PRIEST I, woman, have that secret: I have learned it from the book of the revela tions of God, And I have learned it from life, bitterly, And from my heart, holily. THE SCIENTIST Be not deceived, woman: There is only one book of reality the book of Nature. THE WOMAN Who has read in that book? THE SCIENTIST I have read a little : No man has read much. THE POET They lead you nowhere, woman; You are the secret of life, and your glory is in seeking the secret, But finding it never. THE WOMAN I have climbed this hill and found three watchers of the night 1 02 NIGHT Three star-gazers perched above the placid October harvests Where they lie golden and crimson along the valley, and high on the slopes The scarlet maples flame You are a priest: and you speak of God. I am nothing but need: for I carry a burden that is heavier than the Earth, and is heavier Than the flesh of woman can bear : I break Down under it: and a hard hate Against my birth is steel in my heart I curse God, if there be a God Love, if there ever was love Life, that is empty ravings, And the hour when I was born. THE PRIEST Peace ! Peace ! Thou standest in the presence of the Night Shadowy with grace and benediction the mercy Of the Lord falls like the dew on the soft brow of thy affliction I THE POET (softly) She is very beautiful and dark with her stern cursing, Standing there like an enemy of great Jehovah, A demon-woman satanic she is very beautiful, With her arms full of her burden, and the stars Seeming to retreat before her. THE SCIENTIST What burden is that you carry? 103 THE PRQVINCETOWN PLAYS THE WOMAN That which is worth nothing, And worth more than these stars you gaze at. THE PRIEST Put thy burden upon the Lord, and thy trust in His loving kindness. THE WOMAN I will not part with my burden, though it is worth nothing. . . For what are a few pounds of dead flesh worth when the life has left it? THE PRIEST Then you carry the dead at your breast? THE WOMAN I carry the dead. . . THE PRIEST Flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone. . . THE WOMAN My breasts are still heavy with unsucked milk. . . THE PRIEST Your child has died. . . THE WOMAN My baby is dead . . . THE PRIEST The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away; Blessed be the name of the Lord. THE WOMAN Nine long months I ripened with the human seed, and like a goodly tree that is green Stooped with sheltering boughs above the swell ing fruit. . . 104 NIGHT Song rang sweetly in my blood. . . I tasted the silent life as a spring hillside where the furrows are run So holds its bated breath against the pressing of the grass-blades That birds coming that way catch the held- down glory under the furrows And scatter ecstatic golden notes in the morn- ^ing light. . . Until the trumpets blasted, as if the opening heavens of a sunrise Were battalions of bright trumpeters blowing news of dawn . . . Sank I then into darkness, Sank I then into terror, Till I was healed of pain by the new-born, my child... And now, behold in my arms The life of my life : All that I was went out in him: my life was now outside me. THE PRIEST Unto thee a son was born ! THE WOMAN I ran to tend him with glad feet, and with laughter. . . For my life was now outside of me, And I was seeking my life. THE PRIEST You praised the Lord? THE WOMAN I loved my child . . . 105 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE PRIEST And God forgotten? THE WOMAN That child was holy. . . THE PRIEST He was but flesh. . . THE WOMAN Just so was Christ. . . THE PRIEST A Son of God. . . THE WOMAN My child was such . . . THE PRIEST So in the corrupt new generations of men They forget God, and love but the flesh, And the corruptible flesh decays after its kind And in their bereavement they have nothing . . . then in their sorrow They curse the true and the good. THE WOMAN The flesh, you say? Here is the flesh: But was it the flesh when his blue eyes opened and gazed with great hunger, Was it the flesh that wailed, the flesh that warmed against my naked breasts, the flesh That went a secret way, and I after, I after, seeking through embraces To catch my son back, hold him. . .but, oh, he was gone, He was gone, leaving this. Priest, is this all you have for the bereaved? THE PRIEST That which is gone is now with God. 106 NIGHT THE WOMAN / was his God, for to me the beautiful bright life raised its hands, Suppliant, full of faith . . . He wailed for enfolding love : I gave it For daily bread : I gave it For healing and shelter : I gave it. Out of me he came, but away from me he has gone, And if he has found out some other mother, I curse her in my jealousy! THE PRIEST So you blaspheme the holiness of the Omnipo tent! THE WOMAN So I curse the thief who stole my treasure away. THE PRIEST Alas ! Who may speak to a sacrilegious gen eration? THE WOMAN Speak if you can, and tell me in a few words What is the secret of life ? THE PRIEST Life is a mysterious preparation for immor tality. We are sons and daughters of God, who shall later be angels, and in heaven Know bliss beyond all dream. THE WOMAN (uncovering her child's face) My son. . . You and I lately pulsed with one pulse, and sang together one song: 107 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS For you the flaming pain, for you the terror of birth . . . And this priest's God let you suffer, in a glori ous preparation, And let you die ... (Kisses him.) Cold! Cold! My heart tightens hard, my blood is chilled. . .(In a loud cry.) Hellish heaven ! Devilish God ! (Silence. The Poet advances and covers the face.) THE POET You are very wonderful and very noble in your satanic anger, Your curses are cleansing, for it is a mighty thing for man to confront creation Greater even than this vast Night, to stand in his transiency And his pitiful helplessness, and in the grasp of his doom, and against death, Darkness, and mysterious powers, alone of all life Godlike, downing the universe with defiance! O godlike Are you; and you are God I THE WOMAN (gazing at him) Who are you, with these words? THE POET Seer and singer, one who glories in life, and through vision Creates his own worlds. THE WOMAN Has your mother ever wept for you ? 108 NIGHT THE POET All mothers weep . . . THE WOMAN Have you ever had a child? THE POET No child of my own: but I know the love of children. THE WOMAN Can I trust you with a great trust? THE POET I think of you as a holy thing. THE WOMAN Then take this a moment, And feel how light a heavy burden may be. (She carefully places the child in his arms.) THE POET How strangely light! THE WOMAN You tremble. Why? THE POET There is something so real in the stiff posture of these tiny legs, These crooked arms, this little body, This hanging head . . . THE W T OMAN Can you see him? THE POET (looking close) O tiniest budding mouth, O dark deep fringes of eyelids, O pallid cheeks. . . THE WOMAN And the little tuft of hair you see it? 109 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE POET Take him I My heart is in despair 1 THE WOMAN No one will have my burden; for my burden is heavier Than any save a mother can bear . . . O Earth, hard Earth, I shall not go mad: I hold back: I shut the doors on the Furies : I stand straight and stiff! I hold against my heart with words ! (Silence.) So, poet, yon are hushed ! Life is too much for you! Go live in your dreams and let the reality of experience Flow over you, untasted. . .You are wise: it is better ! (Silence.) What? All silent? My star-gazers brought to a pause? You, too? THE SCIENTIST (grimly) Who would listen to me must be hard and strong. THE WOMAN Am I soft and weak? THE SCIENTIST You have the strength of revolt, but not the greater strength of acceptance. THE WOMAN What shall I accept? 1 10 NIGHT THE SCIENTIST The inexorable facts of life. THE WOMAN And what are those facts? THE SCIENTIST That man is no more than the grasses, and that man is no more, Though his dreams are grandiose, than the pine on this hill, or the bright star Burning blue out yonder strangely the chem icals mix, and the forces interplay, And out of it consciousness rises, an energy harnessed by energies, And a little while it burns, then flickers, then vanishes out, And is no more than the October wind and the smell of dried hay. THE WOMAN These are the facts? THE SCIENTIST These are the facts. THE WOMAN And my child was nothing but energy, gathered and scattered? THE SCIENTIST These are the facts. . . THE WOMAN He was only a cunning engine and a curious machine? THE SCIENTIST Thus are we all. . . THE WOMAN Not all. . .thus are you. . . in THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS But this child was mine; he was my baby and he was my son. And I was his life-giver, and his lover, and his mother. . . And I knew the glory of this child, for I lived with it, And I know the marvel and mystery of mother hood, for I lived it. . . I lived it, who now live the death of a treasured being, And who know now that the light of the world is out, and only death May heal me of anguish, and only death's long sleep Shall bury my bereavement in peace . . . O mouthers of words, Dreamers who do not live, I go back to the valley, And there I shall put this babe in the Earth where the seeds of Autumn are sinking, And there I shall slay myself, knowing that no one knows, And no one helps, and life is a madness and a horror, And to be dead is better than to suffer. (They say nothing. The Priest silently prays. The Woman turns, and starts slowly out. But as she goes a Man en ters, s ear chin gly.) THE MAN Beloved! O where have you fled from me? 112 NIGHT THE WOMAN Go back I hate you for bringing this being into life, Whose loss has ruined life, life itself: and I had better never loved you, For love brings children to the mother. THE MAN It is my child, too ... I, too, have lost him. THE WOMAN You have lost a plaything and the promise of a man, And you have lost a trouble and a burden : But I have lost rny love, and I have lost the life of my life. THE MAN You are cruel in your sorrow beyond all women. . . THE WOMAN Then leave me, and seek comfort elsewhere. There are many women. THE MAN You are desperate, and there is a hardness in you that makes me afraid. Where are you going? THE WOMAN I follow this child. THE MAN Then I lose my child . . . even as you lost yours. THE WOMAN Your child? Ha I I am gone! (Tries to pass him; he seizes her.) 113 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE MAN You shall not go, for you are mine. O beloved, hear me! THE WOMAN Take away your hands, for every moment that you make me stay Deepens my hate of you. THE MAN You would break my life in bits ? THE WOMAN Your life is not so easily broken . . . You are a man . . . Come ! I shall do some ter rible thing THE MAN Then I, too, shall follow. . . THE WOMAN Follow? Where? THE MAN Wherever you go. THE WOMAN Down into death? THE MAN Even into death. (A pause; she draws back a little.) THE WOMAN Are you crying? Are there tears on your cheeks ? Why do you heave so ? THE MAN Your love has died. . . THE WOMAN Are you so weak? 114 NIGHT THE MAN But I need you so ... THE WOMAN (in a changed voice) You need me! THE MAN Look! I do not need you, who am alone, un- comforted, With no place on Earth, no life, no light, if you are gone. . . THE WOMAN You need me? THE MAN I need you . . . (Silence.) THE WOMAN This man is my child. . . (Silence.) THE MAN (Drawing her tenderly close.) Our dead child between us, O my beloved, is there not a future? May no more children issue from us, no more children Lovely, golden, waking with laughter, and clothed as with dawn With the memory of the dead? Come, my beloved, Down to the Valley, down to the living, down to the toilers. Come, my beloved ! I am your child and your father, Your husband and your lover! Come, let us go! THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE WOMAN (weeping) my heart I Something has broken in me, and the flood flows through my being ! 1 come ! I come ! (They go out together, the Man with his arm around the Woman.) THE PRIEST Forgive these children, Lord God! THE SCIENTIST Ignorance is indeed bliss ! THE POET The secret of life? He gives it to her, she gives it to him . . . But who shall tell of it? Who shall know it? [CURTAIN] 116 ENEMIES A PLAY By NEITH BOYCE AND HUTCHINS HAPGOOD Copyright, 1920, BY STEWART & KIDD Co. All Rights Reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to The Provincetown Players, 139 Macdougal St., New York. ENEMIES As Produced by the Provincetown Players, New York City HE, Justus Sheffield SHE, Ida Rauh SCENE A Living-room TIME After Dinner Produced by the Authors Setting designed by B. J. O. Nordfeldt ENEMIES She is lying in a long chair, smoking a cigarette and reading a book. He is sitting at a table with a lamp at his left manuscript pages scat tered before him, pen in hand. He glances at her, turns the lamp up, turns it down, rustles his MS., snorts impatiently. She continues reading. HE This is the limit! SHE (calmly) What is? HE Oh, nothing. (She turns the page, continues reading with interest) This is an infernal lamp! SHE What's the matter with the lamp? HE I've asked you a thousand times to have some order in the house, some regularity, some sys tem ! The lamps never have oil, the wicks are never cut, the chimneys are always smoked! And yet you wonder that I don't work more ! How can a man work without light? SHE (glancing critically at lamp) This lamp seems to me to be all right. It obviously has oil in it or it would not burn, and the chimney is not 119 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS smoked. As to the wick, I trimmed it myself to-day. HE Ah, that accounts for it! SHE Well, do it yourself next time, my dear ! HE (irritated) But our time is too valuable for these ever- recurring jobs ! Why don't you train Theresa, as I've asked you so often? SHE It would take all my time for a thousand years to train Theresa. HE Oh, I know! All you want to do is to lie in bed for breakfast, smoke cigarettes, write your high literary stuff, make love to other men, talk cleverly when you go out to dinner and never say a word to me at home ! No wonder you have no time to train Theresa ! SHE Is there anything of interest in the paper? HE You certainly have a nasty way of making an innocent remark! HE I'm sorry. (Absorbed in her book.) HE No, you're not. The last remark proves it. SHE (absently) Proves what? HE Proves that you are an unsocial, brutal woman ! 120 ENEMIES SHE You are in a temper again. HE Who wouldn't be, to live with a cold-blooded person that you have to hit with a gridiron to get a rise out of? SHE I wish you would read your paper quietly and let me alone. HE Why have you lived with me for fifteen years if you want to be let alone ? SHE (with a sigh) I have always hoped you would settle down. HE By settling down you mean cease bothering about household matters, about the children, cease wanting to be with you, cease expecting you to have any interest in me. SHE No, I only mean it would be nice to have a peaceful evening sometimes. But (laying book down) I see you want to quarrel so what shall we quarrel about? Choose your own sub ject, my dear. HE When you're with Hank you don't want a peace ful evening! SHE Now how can you possibly know that? HE Oh, I've seen you with him and others and I know the difference. When you're with them 121 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS you're alert and interested. You keep your unsociability for me. (Pause) Of course, I know why. SHE One reason is that "they" don't talk about lamp- wicks and so forth. They talk about higher things. HE Some people would call them lower things! SHE Well more interesting things, anyway. HE Yes, I know you think those things more in teresting than household and children and hus band. SHE Oh, only occasionally, you know just for a change. You like a change yourself some times. HE Yes, sometimes. But I am excited, and inter ested and keen whenever I am with you. It is not only cigarettes and flirtation that excite me. SHE Well, you are an excitable person. You get excited about nothing at all. HE Are home and wife and children nothing at all? SHE There are other things. But you, Deacon, are like the skylark 122 ENEMIES "Type of the wise who soar but do not roam True to the kindred points of heaven and home." HE You are cheaply cynical ! You ought not to in sult Wordsworth. He meant what he said. SHE He was a good man. . . . But to get back to our original quarrel. You're quite mistaken. I'm more social with you than with anyone else. Hank, for instance, hates to talk even more than I do. He and I spend hours to gether looking at the sea each of us absorbed in our own thoughts without saying a word. What could be more peaceful than that? HE (indignantly) I don't believe it's peaceful but it must be wonderful ! SHE It is marvelous. I wish you were more like that. What beautiful evenings we could have together ! HE (bitterly) Most of our evenings are silent enough unless we are quarreling! SHE Yes, if you're not talking, it's because you're sulking. You are never sweetly silent never really quiet. HE That's true with you I am rarely quiet with you because you rarely express anything to 123 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS me. I would be more quiet if you were less so less expressive if you were more so. SHE (pensively) The same old quarrel. Just the same for fif teen years ! And all because you are you and I am I ! And I suppose it will go on forever I shall go on being silent, and you HE I suppose I shall go on talking but it really doesn't matter the silence or the talk if we had something to be silent about or to talk about something in common that's the point ! SHE Do you really think we have nothing in com mon? We both like Dostoievsky and prefer Burgundy to champagne. HE Our tastes and our vices are remarkably con genial, but our souls do not touch. SHE Our souls? Why should they? Every soul is lonely. HE Yes, but doesn't want to be. The soul desires to find something into which to fuse and so lose its loneliness. This hope to lose the soul's lone liness by union is love. It is the essence of love as it is of religion. SHE Deacon, you are growing more holy every day. You will drive me to drink. 124 ENEMIES HE (moodily) That will only complete the list. SHE Well, then I suppose we may be more congenial for in spite of what you say, our vices haven't exactly matched. You're ahead of me on the drink. HE Yes, and you on some other things. But per haps I can catch up, too SHE Perhaps if you really give all your time to it, as you did last winter, for instance. But I doubt if I can ever equal your record in pota tions. HE (bitterly) I can never equal your record in the soul's in fidelities. SHE Well, do you expect my soul to be faithful when you keep hitting it with a gridiron? HE No, I do not expect it of you! I have about given up the hope that you will ever respond either to my ideas about household and chil dren or about our personal relations. You seem to want as little as possible of the things that I want much. I harass you by insisting. You anger and exasperate me by retreating. We were fools not to have separated long ago. SHE Again! How you do repeat yourself, my dear! 125 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS HE . Yes, I am very weak. In spite of my better judgment I have loved you. But this time I mean it! SHE I don't believe you do. You never mean half the things you say. HE I do this time. This affair of yours with Hank is on my nerves. It is real spiritual infidelity. When you are interested in him you lose all interest in the household, the children and me. It is my duty to separate. SHE Oh, nonsense! I didn't separate from you when you were running after the widow last winter spending hours with her every day, dining with her and leaving me alone, and tell ing me she was the only woman who had ever understood you. HE I didn't run after the widow, or any other woman except you. They ran after me. SHE Oh, of course! Just the same since Adam not one of you has spirit enough to go after the apple himself! "They ran after you" but you didn't run away very fast, did you? HE Why should I, when I wanted them to take possession if they could? I think I showed splendid spirit in running after you ! Not more than a dozen other men have shown the same 126 ENEMIES spirit. It is true, as you say, that other women understand and sympathize with me. They all do except you. I've never been able to be es sentially unfaithfully, more's the pity. You are abler in that regard. SHE I don't think so. I may have liked other peo ple, but I never dreamed of marrying anyone but you. . . . No, and I never thought any of them understood me, either. I took very good care they shouldn't. SHE Why, it was only the other day that you said Hank understood you better than I ever could. You said I was too virtuous, and that if I were worse you might see me I SHE As usual, you misquote me. What I said was that Hank and I were more alike, and that you are a virtuous stranger a sort of wandering John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness! HE Preachers don't do the things I do! SHE Oh, don't they? HE Well, I know I am as vicious as man can be. You would see that if you loved me. I am fully as bad as Hank. SHE Hank doesn't pretend to be virtuous, so per haps you're worse. But I think you ought to 127 THE PRQV1NCETOWN PLAYS make up your mind whether you're virtuous or vicious, and not assume to be both. HE I am both as a matter of fact, like everybody else. I am not a hypocrite. I love the virtuous and also the vicious. But I don't like to be left out in the cold when you are having an affair. When you are interested in the other, you are not in me. SHE Why do you pretend to fuss about laips and such things when you are simply jealous? I call that hypocritical. I wish it were possible for a man to play fair. But what you want is to censor and control me, while you feel per fectly free to amuse yourself in every possible way. HE I am never jealous without cause, and you are. You object to my friendly and physical intima cies and then expect me not to be jealous of your soul's infidelities, when you lose all feeling for me. I am tired of it. < It is a fundamental misunderstanding, and we ought to separate at once! SHE Oh, very well, if you're so keen on it. But remember, you suggest it. I never said I wanted to separate from you if I had, I wouldn't be here now. HE No, because I've given all I had to you. I have nourished you with my love. You have har- 128 ENEMIES assed and destroyed me. I am no good be cause of you. You have made me work over you to the degree that I have no real life. You have enslaved me, and your method is cool aloofness. You want to keep on being cruel. You are the devil, who never really meant any harm, but who sneers at desires and never wants to satisfy. Let us separate you are my only enemy ! SHE Well, you know we are told to love our enemies. HE I have done my full duty in that respect. Peo ple we love are the only ones who can hurt us. They are our enemies, unless they love us in return. SHE "A man's enemies are those of his own house hold" yes, especially if they love. You, on account of your love for me, have tyrannized over me, bothered me, badgered me, nagged me, for fifteen years. You have interfered with me, taken my time and strength, and pre vented me from accomplishing great works for the good of humanity. You have crushed my soul, which longs for serenity and peace, with your perpetual complaining! HE Too bad. (Indignantly) Perpetual complain ing! SHE Yes, of course. But you see, my dear, I am more philosophical than you, and I recognize 129 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS all this as necessity. Men and women are nat ural enemies, like cat and dog only more so. They are forced to live together for a time, or this wonderful race couldn't go on. In ad dition, in order to have the best children, men and women of totally opposed temperaments must live together. The shock and flame of two hostile temperaments meeting is what pro duces fine children. Well, we have fulfilled our fate and produced our children, and they are good ones. But really to expect also to live in peace together we as different as fire and water, or sea and land that's too much ! HE If your philosophy is correct, that is another argument for separation. If we have done our job together, let's go on our ways and try to do something else separately. SHE Perfectly logical. Perhaps it will be best. But no divorce that's so commonplace. HE Almost as commonplace as your conventional attitude toward husbands that they are nec essarily uninteresting mon bete de man as the typical Frenchwoman of fiction says. I find divorce no more commonplace than real infi delity. SHE Both are matters of every day. But I see no reason for divorce unless one of the spouses wants to marry again. I shall never divorce you. But men can always have children, and 130 ENEMIES so they are perpetually under the sway of the great illusion. If you want to marry again, you can divorce me. HE As usual, you want to see me as a brute. I don't accept your philosophy. Children are the results of love, not because of it, and love should go on. It does go on, if once there has been the right relations. It is not re-marrying or the unconscious desire for further propagation that moves me but the eternal need of that peculiar sympathy which has never been satis fied to die without that is failure of what most appeals to the imagination of human be ings. SHE But that is precisely the great illusion. That is the unattainable that lures us on, and that will lead you, I foresee, if you leave me, into the arms of some other woman. HE Illusion! Precisely what is, you call illusion. Only there do we find Truth. And certainly I am bitten badly with illusion or truth, which ever it is. It is Truth to me. But I fear it may be too late. I fear the other woman is im possible. SHE (pensively) "I cannot comprehend this wild swooning de sire to wallow in unbridled unity." (He makes angry gesture, she goes on quickly) I was quot ing your favorite philosopher. But as to being too late no, no you're more attractive than THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS you ever were, and that shows your ingratitude to me, for I'm sure I have been a liberal educa tion to you. You will easily find someone to adore you and console you for all your suffer ings with me. But do be careful this time get a good housekeeper. HE And you are more attractive than you ever were. I can see that others see that. I have been a liberal education to you, too. SHE Yes, a Pilgrim's Progress. HE I never would have seen woman, if I hadn't suf fered you. SHE I never would have suffered man, if I hadn't seen you. HE You never saw me ! SHE Alas yes! (With feeling) I saw you as something very beautiful very fine, sensitive with more understanding than anyone I've ever known more feeling I still see you that way but from a great distance. HE (startled) Distance? SHE Yes. Don't you feel how far away from one another we are? HE I have felt it, as you know more and more so 132 ENEMIES that you were pushing me more and more away and seeking more and more somebody some thing else. But this is the first time you have admitted feeling it. SHE Yes I didn't want to admit it. But now I see it has gone very far. It is as though we were on opposite banks of a stream that grows wider separating us more and more. HE Yes SHE You have gone your own way, and I mine and there is a gulf between us. HE Now you see what I mean SHE Yes, that we ought to separate that we are separated and yet I love you. HE Two people may love intensely, and yet not be able to live together. It is too painful, for you, for me SHE We have hurt one another too much HE We have destroyed one another we are ene mies. (Pause.) SHE I don't understand it how we have come to this after our long life together. Have you forgotten all that? What wonderful compan ions we were? How gayly we took life with 133 THE PROVINCETQWN PLAYS both hands how we played with it and with one another ! At least, we have the past. HE The past is bitter because the present is bitter. SHE You wrong the past. HE The past is always judged by the present. Dante said, the worst hell is in present misery to re member former happiness SHE Dante was a man and a poet, and so ungrateful to life. (Pause with feeling) Our past to me is wonderful and will remain so, no matter what happens full of color and life complete ! HE That is because our life together has been for you an episode. SHE No, it is because I take life as it is, not asking too much of it not asking that any person or any relation be perfect. But you are an idealist you can never be content with what it You have the poison, the longing for perfection in your soul. HE No, not for perfection, but for union. That is not demanding the impossible. Many people have it who do not love as much as we do. No work of art is right, no matter how wonderful the material and the parts, if the whole, the unity, is not there. 134 ENEMIES SHE That's just what I mean. You have wanted to treat our relation, and me, as clay, and model it into the form you saw in your imagination. You have been a passionate artist. But life is not a plastic material. It models us. HE You are right. I have had the egotism of the artist, directed to a material that cannot be formed. I must let go of you, and satisfy my need of union, of marriage, otherwise than with you. SHE Yes, but you cannot do that by seeking another woman. You would experience the same illu. sion the same disillusion. HE How, then, can I satisfy this mystic need? SHE That is between you and your God whom I know nothing about. HE If I could have stripped you of divinity and sought it elsewhere in religion, in work with the same intensity I sought it in you we would not have needed this separation. SHE And we should have been very happy together ! HE Yes as interesting changers. SHE Exactly. The only sensible way for two fully grown people to be together and that is won- THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS derful, too think! To have lived together for fifteen years and never to have bored one another ! To be still for one another the most interesting persons in the world! How many married people can say that? I've never bored you, have I, Deacon? HE You have harassed, plagued, maddened, tor tured me ! Bored me ? No, never, you be witching devil! (Moving toward her.) SHE I've always adored the poet and mystic in you, though you've almost driven me crazy, you Man of God! HE I've always adored the woman in you, the mys terious, the beckoning and flying, that I cannot possess ! SHE Can't you forget God for a while, and come away with me? HE Yes, darling; after all, you're one of God's creatures ! SHE Faithful to the end! A truce then, shall it be? (Opening her arms) An armed truce? HE (seizing her) Yes, and in a trice ! (She laughs.) [QUICK CURTAIN] 136 THE ANGEL INTRUDES A COMEDY BY FLOYD DELL Copyright, 1918, BY EGMONT ARENS All Rights Reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to The Provincetown Players, 139 Macdougal St., New York. Reprinted from No. 3 of "The Flying Stag Plays," published by Egmont Arens, 27 West Eighth St., from whom the acting edi tion may be obtained. THE ANGEL INTRUDES TIME The present PLACE THE PROLOGUE Washington Square, New York City THE PLAY Jimmy Pendleton's Studio in Macdougal Alley THE ANGEL INTRUDES was first produced by the Provincetown Players, on December 28, 1917, with the following cast: A POLICEMAN, Abram Gillette THE ANGEL, James Light JIMMY PENDLETON, Justus Sheffield ANNABELLE, Edna St. Vincent Millay Scenes by Floyd Dell and Neal Reber. Di rected by Nina Moise and Floyd Dell. THE ANGEL INTRUDES THE PROLOGUE Washington Square by moonlight. A stream of Greenwich Villagers hurrying across to the Brevoort before the doors are locked. In their wake a sleepy policeman. The Policeman stops suddenly on seeing an Angel with shining garments and great white wings, who has just appeared out of nowhere. THE POLICEMAN Hey, you ! THE ANGEL (haughtily, turning) Sir! Are you addressing me? THE POLICEMAN (severely) Yes, an' I've a good mind to lock you up. THE ANGEL (surprised and indignant) How very inhospitable! Is that the way you treat strangers? THE POLICEMAN Don't you know it's agen the law of New York to parade the streets in a masquerade costume? THE ANGEL No; I didn't know. You see, I just arrived this minute from Heaven. THE POLICEMAN Ye look it. (Taking his arm kindly) See here, me lad, you've been drinkin' too many of them stingers. Ye'd better take a taxi and go home. THE ANGEL What! So soon? 139 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE POLICEMAN I know how ye feel. I've been that way meself. But I can't leave ye go trapesin' about in skirts. THE ANGEL (drawing away) Sir, I am not trapesing about. I am attending to important business, and I must ask you not to detain me. THE POLICEMAN (suspiciously ) Not so fast, me laddie-buck. What business have you at this hour of the night ? Tell me that ! THE ANGEL I don't mind telling you. It concerns a mortal called James Pendleton. THE POLICEMAN (genial again) Aha ! So you're a friend of jimmy Pendleton's, are you ? THE ANGEL Not exactly. I am his Guardian Angel. THE POLICEMAN Well, faith, he needs one ! Come, me boy, I'll see ye safe to his door. THE ANGEt, Thank you. But, if you don't mind, I prefer to go alone. (He turns away.) THE POLICEMAN Good-night to you, then. (He idly watches the angelic figure walk away, and then stares with amazement as it spreads its wings and soars to the top of Washington Arch. Pausing there a moment, it soars again in the air, and is seen wafting its way over the neighboring housetops to the northeast. The Policeman shakes his head in disapproval.) 140 THE ANGEL INTRUDES THE PLAY Jimmy Pendleton is dozing in an easy chair be fore the grate-fire in his studio in Washington Mews. A yellow-backed French novel has fallen from his knee to the floor. It is Anatole France's "La Revolte des Anges." A clock strikes somewhere. Jimmy Pendleton awakes. JIMMY What a queer dream 1 (He looks at his watch) One o'clock ! The taxi ought to be here. (He takes two steamship tickets from his pocket, looks at them, and puts them back. Then he commences to pace nervously up and down the room, muttering to himself) Fool! Idiot! Imbecile ! (He is not, noticeably, any of these things; he is a very handsome man of forty. There is the blast of an auto horn outside. He makes an angry gesture) Too late ! That's the taxi. (But he stands uncertainly in the mid dle of the floor. There is a hard pounding of the knocker) Yes, yes ! (He makes a move ment toward the door, when it suddenly opens, and a lovely lady enters. He stares at her in surprise) Annabelle! (Annabelle is little. Annabelle' s petulant upturned lips are rosebud red. Annabelle's round eyes are baby-blue. Annabelle is young.) ANNABELLE Yes, it's me! (There is a tiny lisp in Anna- belle's speech) I got tired of waiting, and the door was unlocked,. so I came right in. 141 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JIMMY Well!! ANNABELLE (hurt) Aren't you glad to see me? JIMMY I'm delighted. But but I thought we were to meet at the pier! ANNABELLE So we were. JIMMY You haven't changed your mind? ANNABELLE No... JIMMY Er good. ANNABELLE But... JIMMY Yes?... ANNABELLE I got to wondering . . . (Drifts to the easy chair in front of the fire.) JIMMY Wondering about what? (He looks at his watch.) ANNABELLE About love . . . JIMMY Well . . . (He lights a cigarette) It's a subject that can stand a good deal of wondering about. I've wondered about it myself. ANNABELLE That's just it you speak so cynically about 142 THE ANGEL INTRUDES it. I don't believe you're in love with me at all! JIMMY Nonsense I Of course I'm in love with you. ANNABELLE (sadly) No, you're not. JIMMY (angrily) But, I tell you, I am! ANNABELLE No... JIMMY Foolish child! ANNABELLE Well, let's not quarrel about it now. JIMMY (vehemently) What do you suppose this insanity is if it isn't love? What do you imagine leads me to this preposterous elopement, if not that prepos terous passion? What makes you come with me in spite of the way I talk? Tell me that! ANNABELLE Perhaps I'm not coming. JIMMY Yes you are. It's foolish mad wicked- but you're coming. (She begins to cry softly) If not ten minutes away is safety and peace and comfort. Shall I call a taxi for you? (She shakes her head) No ; I thought not. Oh, it's love all right. ANNABELLE I hate you ! JIMMY (cheerfully) That's all right. (Smiling) I rather hate you 143 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS myself. And that's the final proof that this is love. ANNABELLE (sobbing) I thought love was something quite different ! JIMMY You thought it was beautiful. It isn't. It's just blithering, blathering folly. We'll both re gret it to-morrow. ANNABELLE I won't I JIMMY Yes you will. It's human nature. Face the facts. ANNABELLE (tearfully) Facing the facts is one thing and being in love is another. JIMMY Quite so. Well, how long do you think your love for me will last? ANNABELLE Forever ! JIMMY H-m ! I predict that you will fall in love with the next man you meet. ANNABELLE I think you're perfectly horrid. JIMMY So do I. I disapprove of myself violently. I'm a doddering lunatic, incapable of thinking of anything but you. I can't work. I can't eat. I can''c sleep. I'm no use to the world. I'm not a rnan I'm a mess. I'm about to do some thing silly because I can't do anything else. 144 THE ANGEL INTRUDES ANNABELLE (pouting) You've no respect for me. JIMMY None whatever. I love you. And I'm going to carry you off. ANNABELLE You're a brute. JIMMY Absolutely. I'd advise you to go straight home. ANNABELLE (defiantly) Perhaps I shall ! JIMMY Then go quick. (He takes out his watch) In one minute, if you are still here, I shall pick you up and carry you off to Italy. Quick! There's the door! ANNABELLE (faintly) I I want to go ... JIMMY Well, why don't you ? . . . Thirty seconds ! ANNABELLE I I can't! JIMMY (shutting his watch) Time's up. The die is cast! (He lifts her from the chair. She clings to him helplessly) My darling ! My treasure ! My beloved ! Idiot that I am ! (He kisses her fiercely.) ANNABELLE (struggling in his arms) No! No! No! Stop! JIMMY Never! 145 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ANNABELLE Stop! Please! Please! Oh!... (The light suddenly goes out, and an instant later blazes up again, revealing the Angel, who has sud denly arrived in the middle of the room. The two of them stare at the apparition.) THE ANGEL I hope I am not intruding? JIMMY Why why not exactly! THE ANGEL If I am... JIMMY No, really. . . ANNABELLE (in his arms, indignantly) Jimmy! Who is that man? JIMMY (becoming aware of her and putting her down carefully) I why why, the fact is, I don't . . . THE ANGEL The fact is, madame, I am his Guardian Angel. ANNABELLE An Angel! Oh! THE ANGEL Tell me, have I intruded? ANNABELLE No; not at all! THE ANGEL Thank you for reassuring me. I feared for a moment that I had made an inopportune en trance. I was about to suggest that I with- 146 THE ANGEL INTRUDES draw until you had finished the er ceremony which I seem to have interrupted. JIMMY (surprised) But wasn't that what you came for to inter rupt? THE ANGEL I beg your pardon ! JIMMY (bewilder edly) I mean if you are my Guardian Angel, and all that sort of thing, you must have come to to interfere! THE ANGEL I hope you will not think I would be capable of such presumption ! JIMMY (puzzled) You don't want to so to speak reform me? THE ANGEL Not at all. Why, I scarcely know you ! JIMMY But you're my my Guardian Angel, you say? THE ANGEL Ah, yes, to be sure. But the relation of an gelic guardianship has for some hundreds of years been a purely nominal one. We have come to feel that it is best to allow mortals to attend to their own affairs. JIMMY (abruptly) Then, what did you come for? THE ANGEL For a change. One becomes tired of familiar scenes. And I thought that perhaps my rela tionship to you might serve in lieu of an intro duction. I wanted to be among friends. 147 THE PROVINCETQWN PLAYS JIMMY Oh, I see. ANNABELLE Of course. We're delighted to have you with us. Won't you sit down ? (She leads the way to the fire.) THE ANGEL (perching on the back of one of the big chairs) If you don't mind! My wings, you know. JIMMY (hesitantly) Have a cigarette? THE ANGEL Thank you. (He takes one) I am most anxious to learn the more important of your earthly arts and sciences. Please correct me if I go wrong. This is my first attempt, remem ber. (He blows out a puff of smoke.) ANNABELLE (from the settle) You're doing it very nicely. THE ANGEL It is incense to the mind. ANNABELLE (laughingly, blowing a series of smoke rings) You must learn to do it like this ! THE ANGEL (in awe) That is too wonderful an art. I fear I can never learn it ! ANNABELLE I will teach you. THE ANGEL (earnestly) If you were my teacher, I think I could learn anything. THE ANGEL INTRUDES ANNABELLE (giggles, charmingly.) JIMMY (embarrassed) Really, Annabelle. . . ANNABELLE What's the matter? JIMMY Ordinarily I wouldn't mind you're flirting with strangers, but. . . ANNABELLE (indignantly) Jimmy ! How can you ? THE ANGEL It was my fault, I'm sure if fault there was. But what is it to flirt? You see, I wish to learn everything. ANNABELLE I hope you never learn that. THE ANGEL I put myself in your hands. JIMMY Er would you like a drink ? THE ANGEL Thank you. I am very thirsty. (Taking the glass) This is very different from what we have in Heaven. (He tastes it. A look of gratified surprise appears on his face) And much better ! (He drains the glass and hands it back) May I have some more ? ANNABELLE Be careful ! THE ANGEL What should I be careful of? 149 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ANNABELLE Don't take too much of that if it's the first time. THE ANGEL Why not? It is an excellent drink. JIMMY (laughing) The maternal instinct ! She is afraid you may make yourself ridiculous. THE ANGEL Angels do not care for appearances. (He stands up magnificently in the chair, towering above them) Besides. . . (Refilling his glass) I feel that you do an injustice to this drink. Al ready it has made a new being of me. (He looks at Annabelle) I feel an emotion that I have never known before. If I were in Heaven, I should sing. ANNABELLE Oh! Won't you sing? THE ANGEL The fact is, I know nothing but hymns. And I'm tired of them. That was one reason why I left Heaven. And this robe . . . (He stands up, viewing his garment with disapproval) Have you an extra suit of clothes you could lend me? JIMMY (reflectively) Yes. I think I have some things that might fit. (The Angel waits) Do you want them now? I'll look. (He goes into the bed-room. The Angel looks at Annabelle, until his gaze be comes insupportable and she covers her eyes. Then he comes over to her side.) 150 THE ANGEL INTRUDES THE ANGEL (gravely) I am very much afraid of you. (He takes her hands in his.) ANNABELLE (smiling) One would never guess it! THE ANGEL I am more afraid of you than I was of God. But even though I fear you, I must come close to you, and touch you. The strange, new emo tion is like fire in my veins. This world has become beautiful to me because you are in it. I want to stay here so that I may be with you . . . ANNABELLE (shaken, but doubting) For how long? THE ANGEL Forever . . . ANNABELLE (in his arms, surrendering to the word) Dar ling! THE ANGEL I am so ignorant 1 There is something I want to do right now, only I do not know how to go about it properly. (He bends shyly toward her lips.) ANNABELLE I will teach you. (She kisses him.) THE ANGEL Heaven was nothing to this. (They kiss again. Enter Jimmy, with an old suit of clothes over his arm. He pauses in dumbfounderment. At last he regains his voice.) THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS JIMMY Well! (They look up. Neither of them is perturbed.) THE ANGEL (blandly) Has something happened to annoy you? (Jimmy shakes the clothes at him in an outraged gesture) Oh, my new costume. Thank you so much ! (He takes them gratefully.) JIMMY (bitterly, to Annabelle) I suppose I've no right to complain. You can make love to anybody you like. In fact, now that I come to think of it, I predicted this very thing. I said you'd fall in love with the next man you met. So it's off with the old love, and . . . ANNABELLE (calmly)^ I have never been in love before. JIMMY The fickleness of women is notorious. -It is ex ceeded only by their mendacity. But Angels have up to this time stood in good repute. Your conduct, sir, is scandalous. I am amazed at you ! THE ANGEL It may be scandalous, but it should not amaze you. It has happened too often before. I could quote you many texts from learned theo logical works. "And the sons of God looked at the daughters of men and saw that they Were fair." But even if it were as unusual as you imagine, that would not deter me. JIMMY You are an unscrupulous wretch. If these are the manners of Heaven, I am glad it is so far 152 THE ANGEL INTRUDES away, and means of communication so difficult. A few more of you would corrupt the morals of five continents. You are utterly depraved Here! What are you doing? THE ANGEL I am taking off my robes, so as to put on my new clothes. JIMMY Spare the common decencies at least. Go in the other room. THE ANGEL Certainly, if that is the custom here. (With the clothes over his arm, he goes into the bed room.) JIMMY (sternly) And now tell me, what do you mean by this ? ANNABELLE (simply) We are in love. JIMMY Do you mean to say you would throw me over for that fellow? ANNABELLE Why not? JIMMY What good is he ? All he can do is sing hymns. In three months he'll be a tramp. ANNABELLE I don't care. And he won't be a tramp. I'll look after him. JIMMY (sneeringly) The maternal instinct ! Well, take care of him if you like. But of course you know that in six weeks he'll fall in love with somebody else? 153 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ANNABELLE No he won't. Fm sure that I am the only girl in the world to him. JIMMY Of course you're the only girl in the world to him now. You're the only one he's ever seen. But wait till he sees the others! Six weeks? On second thought I make it three days. Im mortal love ! (He laughs.) ANNABELLE What difference does it make? You don't un derstand. Whether it lasts a day or a year, while it lasts it will be immortal. ( The Angel enters, dressed in Jimmy's old clothes, and car rying his wings in his hands. He seems ex hilarated.) THE ANGEL How do I look? JIMMY It is customary to wear one's tie tucked inside the vest. THE ANGEL (flinging the ends of the gorgeous necktie over his shoulder) No ! Though I have become a man, I do not without some regret put on the dull garb of mortality. I would not have my form lose all its original brightness. Even so it is the excess of glory obscured. ANNABELLE (coming over to him) You are quite right, darling. (She' tucks it inside his vest.) THE ANGEL Thank you, beloved. And now these wings! 154 THE ANGEL INTRUDES Take them, and burn them with your own sweet hands, so that I can never leave you, even if I would. ANNABELLE No I I would rather put them away for you in a closet, so that you can go and look at them any time you want to, and see that you have the means of freedom ready to your hand. I shall never hold you against your will. I do not want to burn your wings. I really don't! But if you insist. . . (She takes the wings and ap proaches the grate.) JIMMY (to the Angel) Don't let her do it! Fool! You don't know what you are doing. Listen to me ! You think that she is wonderful superior divine. It is only natural. There are mo ments when I have thought so myself. But I know why I thought so, and you have yet to learn. Keep your wings, my friend, against the day of your awakening the day when the glamour of sex has vanished, and you see in her, as you will see, an inferior being, with a weak body, a stunted mind, devoid of creative power, almost devoid of imagination, utterly lacking in critical capacity a being who does not know how to work, nor how to talk, nor even how to play! (Annabelle, putting down the wings beside the grate, stares at him in speechless anger.) THE ANGEL Sir! Do you refer in those vulgar and insult ing terms to the companion of my soul, the de- 155 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS sire of my heart, the perfect lover whose lips have kindled my dull sense to ecstacy? JIMMY I do. Remember that I know her better than you do, young man. Take my advice and leave her alone. Even now it is not too late ! Save yourself from this folly while there is time ! THE ANGEL Never ! JIMMY Then take these tickets, and I hope I never see either of you again ! (He holds out the tickets. Annabelle, after a pause, steps forward and takes them.) ANNABELLE That is really sweet of you, Jimmy! (The blast of an auto horn is heard outside.) JIMMY (bitterly) And there's my taxi. Take that, too. THE ANGEL Farewell! (He opens the door. Annabelle, at his side, turns and blows Jimmy a kiss. Stonily Jimmy watches them go out. Then he picks up his suitcase and goes, with an air of complete finality, into the other room. There is a mo ment's silence, and then the door opens softly, and the Angel looks in, enters surreptitiously, seizes up the wings, and with them safely clasped to his bosom, vanishes again through the door.) [CURTAIN] 156 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF A PLAY BY EUGENE G. O'NEILL Copyright, 19 , BY BONI & LlVERIGHT, INC. All Rights Reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to the author, care of Boni & Liveright, Inc., 105 West Fortieth St., New York. Reprinted from "Beyond the Horizon," by permission of the author. BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF As Produced at the Playwrights' Theater New York City YANK, George Cram Cook DRISCOLL, William Stuart COCKY, Edward J. Ballantine DAVIS, Harry Kemp SCOTTY, Frank Shay OLESON, B. J. O. Nordfeldt A NORWEGIAN, Donald Cor ley SMITTY, Lew Parr is h IVAN, Francis Buzzell THE CAPTAIN, Henry Marion Hall THE SECOND MATE, Eugene G. O'Neill BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF SCENE : The seamen's forecastle on a British tramp steamer an irregular-shaped compart ment, the sides of which almost meet at the far end to form a triangle. Sleeping bunks about six feet long, ranged three deep, with a space of three feet separating the upper from the lower, are built against the sides. On the right above the bunks three or four port holes can be seen. In front of the bunks, rough, wooden benches. Over the bunks on the left, a lamp in a bracket. In the left foreground, a doorway. On the floor near it, a pail with a tin dipper. Oilskins are hanging from a hook near the doorway. The far side of the forecastle is so narrow that it contains only one series of bunks. In under the bunks a glimpse can be had of sea- chests, suitcases, sea-boots, etc., jammed in in- discrimately. At regular intervals of a minute or so the blast of the steamer's whistle can be heard above all the other sounds. Five men are sitting on the benches talking. They are dressed in dirty, patched suits of dungaree, flannel shirts, and all are in their stocking feet. Four of the men are pulling on pipes and the air is heavy with rancid tobacco smoke. Sit ting on the top bunk in the left foreground a 159 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS blonde Norwegian is softly playing some folk song on a battered accordion. He stops from time to time to listen to the conversation. In the lower bunk in the rear a dark-haired, mid dle-aged man is lying apparently asleep. One of his arms is stretched limply over the side of the bunk. His face is very pale and drops of clammy perspiration glisten on his forehead. It is nearmg the end of the dog watch about ten minutes to eight in the evening. COCKY (a weazened runt of a man. He is telling a story. The others are listening with amused, incredulous faces, interrupting him at the end of each sentence with loud, derisive guffaws) Maikin' love to me, she was! It's Gawd's truth ! A bloomin' nigger ! Greased all over with coconut oil, she was. Gawd blimey, *I couldn't stand 'er. Bloody old cow, I says; and with that I fetched 'er a biff on. the ear wot knocked 'er silly, an' (He is interrupted by a roar of laughter from the others.) DAVIS (a middle-aged man with brown hair and mus tache) You're a liar, Cocky. SCOTT Y (a dark young fellow) Ho-ho! Ye werr neverr in New Guinea in yourr life, I'm think- in'. OLESON (a Swede with an enormous blonde mustache 1 60 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF with ponderous sarcasm) Yust tink of it ! You say she wass a cannibal, Cocky? DRISCOLL (a red-haired giant with the battered features of a prizefighter) How cud ye doubt ut, Ole- son? A quane av the naygurs she musta been, surely. Who else wud think herself aqual to fallin' in love with a beauthiful, divil-may-care rake av a man the loike av Cocky? (A burst of laughter from the crowd.) COCKY (indignantly) Gawd strike me dead if it ain't true, every bleedin' word of it. 'Appened ten year ago come Christmas. SCOTTY 'Twas a Christmas dinner she had her eyes on. DAVIS He'd a been a tough old bird. DRISCOLL 'Tis lucky for f)oth av ye ye escaped; for the quane av the cannibal isles wad'a died av the belly ache the day afther Christmas, divil a doubt av ut. (The laughter at this is long and loud.) COCKY (sullenly) Blarsted fat'eads! (The sick man in the lower bunk in the rear groans and moves restlessly. There is a hushed silence. All the men turn and stare at him.) DRISCOLL Ssshh! (In a hushed whisper) We'd best not be talkin' so loud and him tryin' to have a bit av a sleep. (He tiptoes softly to the side of the 161 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS bunk) Yank! You'd be wantin' a drink av wather, maybe? (Yank does not reply. Dris- coll bends over and looks at him) It's asleep he is, sure enough. His breath is chokin' in his throat loike wather gurglin' in a poipe. (He comes back quietly and sits down. All are si lent, avoiding each other's eyes.) COCKY (after a pause) Pore devil ! It's over the side for 'im, Gawd 'elp 'im. DRISCOLL Stop your croakin' ! He's not dead yet and, praise God, he'll have many a long day yet be fore him. SCOTTY (shaking his head doubtfully) He's baad, mon, he's verry baad. DAVIS Lucky he's alive. Many a man's light woulda gone out after a fall like that. OLESON You saw him fall? DAVIS Right next to him. He and me was goin' down in Number Two hold to do some chippin'. He puts his leg over careless-like and misses the ladder and plumps straight down to. the bot tom. I was scared to look over for a minute, and then I heard him groan and I scuttled down after him. He was hurt bad inside, for the blood was drippin' from the side of his mouth. He was groanin' hard, but he never let a word out of him. 162 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF COCKY An' you blokes remember when we 'auled 'im in 'ere ? Oh 'ell, 'e says, oh 'ell like that, and nothink else. OLESON Did the captain know where he iss hurted? COCKY That silly oP josser! Wot the 'ell would 'e know abaht anythink? SCOTTY (scornfully) He fiddles in his mouth wi' a bit of glass. DRISCOLL (angrily) The divil's own life ut is to be out on the lonely sea wid nothin' betune you and a grave in the ocean, but a spindle-shanked, grey-whiskered auld fool the loike av him. 'Twas enough to make a saint shwear to see him wid his gold watch in his hand, tryin' to look as wise as an owl on a tree, and all the toime he not knowin' whether 'twas cholery or the barber's itch was the matther wid Yank. SCOTTY, (sardonically) He gave him a dose of salts, na doot? DRISCOLL Divil a thing he gave him at all, but looked in the book he had wid him, and shook his head, and walked out widout sayin' a word, the sec ond mate afther him no wiser than himself, God's curse on the two av thim ! COCKY (after a pause) Yank was a good shipmate, pore beggar. Lent me four bob in Noo Yark, f e did. 163 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS DRISCOLL (warmly) A good shipmate he was and is none betther. Ye said no more than the truth, Cocky. Five years and more ut is since first I shipped wid him, and we've stuck together iver since through good luck and bad. Fights we've had, God help us, but 'twas only when we'd a bit av drink taken, and we always shook hands the nixt mornin'. Whativer was his was mine, and many's the toime I'd a been on the beach or worse but for him. And now (His voice trembles as he fghts to control his emotion) Divil take me if I'm not startin' to blubber loike an auld woman, and he not dead at all, but goin' to live many a long year yet, maybe. DAVIS The sleep'll do him good. He seems better now. OLESON If he wude eat something DRISCOLL Wud ye have him be eatin' in his condishun? Sure it's hard enough on the rest av us wid nothin' the matther wid our insides to be stom- achin' the skoff on this rusty lime-juicer. SCOTTY (indignantly^ It's a starvation ship. DAVIS Plenty o' work and no food and the owners ridin' around in carriages ! OLESON Hash, hash! Stew, stew! Marmalade, py damn! (He spits disgustedly.) 164 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF COCKY Bloody swill! Fit only for swine is wot I say. DRISCOLL And the dishwather they disguise wid the name av tea ! And the putty they call bread ! My belly feels loike I'd swalleyed a dozen rivets at the thought av ut ! And sea-biscuit that'd break the teeth av a lion if he had the misfortune to take a bite at one ! (Unconsciously they have all raised their voices, forgetting the sick man in their sailor's delight at finding something to grumble about.) THE NORWEGIAN (stops playing accordion says slowly) And rot-ten po-tay-toes! (He starts in playing again. The sick man gives a groan of pain.) DRISCOLL (7. ,ding up his hand) Shut your mouths, all av you. 'Tis a hell av a thing for us to be com- plainin' about our guts, and a sick man maybe dyin' listenin' to us. (Gets up and shakes his fist at the Norwegian) God stiffen you, ye square-head scut! Put down that .organ av yours or I'll break your ugly face for you. Is that banshee schreechin' fit music for a sick man? (The Norwegian puts his accordion in the bunk and lays back and closes his eyes. Driscoll goes over and stands beside Yank. The steamer's whistle sounds particularly loud in the silence.) DAVIS Damn this fog! (Reaches in under a bunk and yanks out a pair of seaboots which he pulls on) THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS My lookout next, too. Must be nearly eight bells, boys. (With the exception of Oleson, all the men sitting up put on oilskins, sou' westers, seaboots, etc., in preparation for the watch on deck. Oleson crawls into a lower bunk on the right.) SCOTTY My wheel. OLESON (disgustedly) Nothin' but yust dirty weather all dis voyage. I yust can't sleep when weestle blow. (He turns his back to the light and is soon fast asleep and snoring.) SCOTTY If this fog keeps up, I'm tellin' ye, we'll no be in Cardiff for a week or more. DRISCOLL 'Twas just such a night as this the auld Dover wint down. Just about this toime it was, too, and we all sittin' round in the fo'castle, Yank beside me, whin all av a suddint we heard a great slitherin' crash, and the ship heeled over til we was all in a heap on wan side. What came afther I disremimber exactly, except 'twas a hard shift to get the boats over the side be fore the auld teakittle sank. Yank was in the same boat wid me, and sivin morthal days we drifted wid scarcely a drop of wather or a bite to chew on. T'was Yank here that held me down whin I wanted to jump into the ocean, roarin' mad wid the thirst. Picked up we were on the same day wid only Yank in his senses, and him steerin' the boat. 166 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF COCKY (protestingly) Blimey, but you're a cheerful blighter, Dris- coll! Talkin' abaht shipwrecks in this 'ere blushin' fog. (Yank groans and stirs uneasily, opening his eyes. Driscoll hurries to his side.) DRISCOLL Are you feelin' any betther, Yank? YANK (in a weak voice) No. DRISCOLL Sure you must be. You look as sthrong as an ox. (Appealing to the others) Am I tellin' him a lie? DAVIS The sleep's done you good. COCKY You'll be 'avin' your pint of beer in Cardiff this day week. SCOTTY And fish and chips, mon I YANK (peevishly) What're yuh all liein' fur? D'yuh think I'm scared to (He hesitates as if frightened by the word he is about to say.) DRISCOLL Don't be thinkin' such things ! ( The ship's bell is heard heavily tolling eight times. From the forecastle head above, the voice of the lookout rises in a long wail: Aaalls well. The men look uncertainly at Yank as if undecided whether to say good-bye or not.) YANK (in an agony of fear) Don't leave me, Drisc ! THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS I'm dyin', I tell yuh. I won't stay here alone with everyone snorin'. I'll go out on deck. (He makes a feeble attempt to rise, but sinks back with a sharp groan. His breath comes in wheezy gasps) Don't leave me, Drisc ! (His face grows white and his head falls back with a jerk.) DRISCOLL Don't be worryin', Yank. I'll not move a step out av here and let that divil av a bosun curse his black head off. You speak a word to the bosun, Cocky. Tell him that Yank is bad took and I'll be stayin' wid him a while yet. COCKY Right-o. (Cocky, Davis, and Scotty go out quietly.) COCKY " (from the alleyway) Gawd blimey, the fog's thick as soup. DRISCOLL Are ye satisfied now, Yank? (Receiving no an swer, he bends over the still form) He's fainted, God help him ! (He gets a tin dipper from the bucket, and bathes Yank's forehead with the water. Yank shudders and opens his eyes.) YANK (slowly) I thought I was goin' then. Wha' did yuh wanta wake me up fur? DRISCOLL (with forced gaiety) Is it wishful for heaven ye are? YANK (gloomily) Hell, I guess. 168 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF DRISCOLL (crossing himself involuntarily) For the love av the saints, don't be talkin' loike that! You'd give a man the creeps. It's chippin' rust on deck you'll be in a day or two wid the best av us. (Yank does not answer, but closes his eyes wearily. The seaman who has been on lookout, a young Englishman, comes in and takes of his dripping oilskins. While he is doing this the man whose turn at the wheel has been relieved enters. He is a dark, burly fellow with a round, stupid face. The Englishman steps softly over to Driscoll. The other crawls into a lower bunk.) THE ENGLISHMAN (whispering) How's Yank? DRISCOLL Betther. Ask him yourself. He's awake. YANK I'm all right, Smitty. SMITTY Glad to hear it, Yank. (He crawls to an upper bunk and is soon asleep. The stupid-faced sea man who came in after Smitty twists his head in the direction of the sick man) You feel gude, Jank? YANK (wearily) Yes, Ivan. IVAN Dot's gude. (He rolls over on his side and falls asleep immediately.) YANK (after a pause, broken only by snores with a 169 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS bitter laugh) Good-bye and good luck to the lot of you ! DRISCOLL Is ut painin' you again? YANK It hurts like hell here. (He points to the lower part of his chest on the left side) I guess my old pump's busted. Ooohh ! (A spasm of pain contracts his pale features. He presses his hand to his side and writhes on the thin mat tress of his bunk. The perspiration stands out in beads on his forehead.) DRISCOLL (terrified) Yank! Yank! What is ut? (Jumping to his feet) I'll run for the captain. (He starts for the doorway.) YANK (sitting up in his bunk, frantic with fear) Don't leave me, Drisc ! For God's sake, don't leave me alone ! (He leans over the side of his bunk and spits. Driscoll comes back to him) Blood ! Ugh! DRISCOLL Blood again! I'd best be gettin' the captain. YANK No, no, don't leave me! If yuh do I'll git up and follow yuh. I ain't no coward, but I'm scared to stay here with all of them asleep and snorin'. (Driscoll, not knowing what to do, sits down on the bench beside him. He grows calmer and sinks back on the mattress) The captain can't do me no good yuh know it your self. The pain ain't so bad now, but I thought 170 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF it had me then. It was like a buzz-saw cuttin' into me. DRISCOLL (fiercely) God blarst ut! (The captain and the second mate of the steamer enter the forecastle. The captain is an old man with grey mustache and whiskers. The mate is clean shaven and mid dle-aged. Both are dressed in simple blue uni forms.) THE CAPTAIN (taking out his watch and feeling Yank's pulse) And how is the sick man? YANK (feebly) All right, sir. THE CAPTAIN And the pain in the chest? YANK It still hurtSj sir; worse than ever. THE CAPTAIN (taking a thermometer from his pocket and putting it in Yank's mouth) Here, be sure and keep this in under your tongue not over it. THE MATE (after a pause) Isn't this your watch on deck, Driscoll? DRISCOLL ' Yes, sorr; but Yank was fearin' to be alone, and THE CAPTAIN That's all right, Driscoll. DRISCOLL Thank ye, sorr. 171 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS THE CAPTAIN (stares at his watch for a moment or so; then takes the thermometer from Yank's mouth and goes to the lamp to read it. His expression grows very grave. He beckons the mate and Driscoll to the corner near the doorway. Yank watches them furtively. The captain speaks in a low voice to the mate) Way up, both of them. (To Driscoll) Has he been spitting blood again? DRISCOLL Not much for the hour just past, sorr; but be fore that THE CAPTAIN A great deal? DRISCOLL Yes, sorr. THE CAPTAIN He hasn't eaten anything? DRISCOLL No, sorr. THE CAPTAIN Did he drink that medicine I sent him? DRISCOLL Yes, sorr; but it didn't stay down. THE CAPTAIN (shaking his head) I'm afraid he's very weak. I can't do anything else for him. It's too serious for me. If this had only happened a week later we'd be in Cardiff in time DRISCOLL Plaze help him someway, sorr! 172 BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF THE CAPTAIN (impatiently) But, my good man, I'm not a doctor. (More kindly as he sees Driscoll's grief) You and he have been shipmates a long time? DRISCOLL Five years and more, sorr. THE CAPTAIN I see. Well, don't let him move. Keep him quiet and we'll hope for the best. I'll read the matter up and send him some medicine some thing to ease the pain, anyway. (Goes over to Yank) Keep up your courage. You'll be bet ter to-morrow. (He breaks down lamely be fore Yank's steady gaze) We'll pull you through all right and hm well coming, Robinson ? Dammit ! (He goes out hurriedly, followed by the mate.) DRISCOLL (trying to conceal his anxiety) Didn't I tell you you wasn't half as sick as you thought you was. The captain'll have you on deck cursin' and swearin' loike a trooper before the week is out. YANK Don't lie, Drisc. I heard what he said, and if I didn't I c'd tell by the way I feel. I know what's goin' to happen. I'm going to (He hesitates for a second then resolutely) I'm goin' to die, that's what, and the sooner the better ! DRISCOLL (wildly) No, and be damned to you, you're not. I'll not let you. 173 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS YANK It ain't no use, Drisc. I ain't got a chance ; but I ain't scared. Gimme a drink of water, will yuh, Drisc? My throat's burnin' up. (Drls- coll brings the dipper full of water and supports his head while he drinks in great gulps.) DRISCOLL (seeking vainly for some word of comfort) Are ye feelin' more aisy-loike now? YANK Yes now when I know it's all up. (A, pause) You mustn't take it so hard, Drisc. I was just thinkin' it ain't as bad as people think dyin'. I ain't never took much sttfck in the truck them sky-pilots preach. I ain't never had religion; but I know whatever it is what comes after it can't be no worser'n this. I don't like to leave you, Drisc, but that's all. DRISCOLL (with a groan) Lad, lad, don't be talkin' ! YANK This sailor life ain't much to cry about leavin' just one ship after another hard work, small pay, and bum grub ; and when we git into port, just a drunk, endin' up in a fight, and all your money gone, and then ship away again. Never meetin' no nice people; never gittin' outa sailor town, hardly, in any port; travelin' all over the world and never seein' none of it; without no one to care whether you're alive or dead. (With a bitter smile) There ain't much in all that that'd make yuh sorry to lose it, Drisc. DRISCOLL (gloomily) It's a hell av a life the sea. BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF YANK (musingly) It must be great to stay on dry land all your life and have a farm, with a house of your own, with cows and pigs and chickens, way in the middle of the land where yuh'd never smell the sea or see a ship. It must be great to have a wife, and kids to play with at night after supper when your work is done. It must be great to have a home of your own, Drisc. DRISCOLL (with a great sigh) It must, surely ; but what's the use av thinkin' av ut? Such things are not for the loikes av us. YANK Sea-farin' is all right when you're young and don't care ; but we ain't chickens no more, and somehow, I dunno, this last year has seemed rotten, and I've had a hunch I'd quit with you, of course and we'd save our coin, and go to Canada or Argentine or some place and git a farm, just a small one, just enough to live on. I never told yuh this 'cause I thought yuh'd laugh at me. DRISCOLL (enthusiastically) Laugh at you, is ut ? When I'm havin' the same thoughts myself, toime afther toime. It's a grand idea, and we'll be doin' ut sure if you'll stop your crazy notions about about bein' so sick. YANK (sadly) Too late. We shouldn't a made this trip, and then How'd all the fog git in here? DRISCOLL Fog? THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS YANK Everythin' looks misty. Must be my eyes git- tin' weak, I guess. What was we talkin' of a minute ago? Oh yes, a farm. It's too late. (His mind wandering) Argentine, did I say? D'yuh remember the times we've had in Buenos Aires? The moving pictures in Barracas? Some class to them, d'yuh remember? DRISCOLL (with satisfaction) I do that; and so does the piany player. He'll not be forgettin' the black eye* I gave him in a hurry. YANK Remember the time we was there on the beach and had to go to Tommy Moore's boarding- house to git shipped? And he sold us rotten oilskins and seaboots full of holes, and shipped us on a skysail yarder round the Horn, and took two months' pay for it! And the days we used to sit on the park benches along the Paseo Colon with the vigilantes lookin' hard at us ! And the songs at the Sailor's Opera, where the guy played ragtime d'yuh remember them? DRISCOLL I do, surely. YANK And La Plata phew, the stink of the hides! I always liked Argentine all except that booze, cana. How drunk we used to git on that, re member? DRISCOLL Cud I forget ut? My head pains me at the menshun av that divil's brew. BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF YANK Remember the night I went crazy with the heat in Singapore? And the time you was pinched by the cops in Port Said? And the time we was both locked up in Sydney for fightin' ? DRISCOLL I do so. YANK And that fight on the dock at Cape Town. (His voice betrays great inward perturbation.) DRISCOLL (hastily) Don't be thinkin' av that now. 'Tis past and gone. YANK D'yuh think He'll hold it up against me? DRISCOLL (mystified) Who's that? YANK God. They say He sees everything. He must know it was done in fair fight in self-defense don't yuh think? DRISCOLL Av course. Ye stabbed him, and be damned to him, for the skulkin' swine he was, afther him tryin' to stick you in the back, and you not sus- pectin'. Let your conscience be aisy. I wisht I had nothin' blacker than that on my sowl. I'd not be afraid av the angel Gabriel himself. YANK (with a shudder) I c'd see him a minute , ago with the blood spurtin' out of his neck. Ugh! 177 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS DRISCOLL The fever, ut is, that makes you see such things. Give no heed to ut. YANK (uncertainly) You dont think' He'll hold it up agin me God, I mean? DRISCOLL If there's justice in hiven, no! ,(Yank seems comforted by this assurance.) YANK (after a pause) We won't reach Cardiff for a week at least. I'll be buried at sea. DRISCOLL (putting his hands over his ears) Ssshh! I won't listen to you. YANK (as if he had not heard him) It's as good a place as any other, I s'pose only I always wanted to be buried on dry land. But what the hell'll I care then ? (Fretfully) Why should it be a rotten night like this, with that damned whistle blowin' and people snorin' all around? I wish the stars was out, and the moon, too; I c'd lie out on deck and look at them, and it'd make it easier to go somehow. DRISCOLL For the love av God, don't be talkin' loike that! YANK Whatever pay's comin' to me yuh can divvy up with the rest of the boys; and you take my watch. It aio't worth much, but it's all I've got. DRISCOLL But have ye no relations at all to call your own? BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF YANK No, not as I know of. One thing I forgot: You know Fanny, the barmaid, at the Red Stork in Cardiff? DRISCOLL Sure and who doesn't? YANK She's been good to me. She tried to lend me half a crown when I was broke there last trip. Buy her the biggest box of candy yuh c'n find in Cardiff. (Breaking down in a choking voice) It's hard to ship on this voyage I'm goin' on alone ! (Driscoll reaches out and grasps his hand. There is a pause, during which both fight to control themselves) My throat's like a furnace. (He gasps for air) Gimme a drink of water, will yuh, Drisc? (Driscoll gets him a dipper of water) I wish this was a pint of beer. Oooohh ! (He chokes, his face con vulsed with agony, his hands tearing at his shirt front. The dipper falls from his nerve less fingers.) DRISCOLL For the love av God, what is ut, Yank? YANK (speaking with tremendous difficulty) S'long, Drisc! (He stares straight in front of him with eyes starting from their sockets) Who's that? DRISCOLL Who? What? ANK (faintly) A pretty lady dressed in black. (His face 179 THE PRQVINCETOWN PLAYS twitches and his body writhes in a final spasm, then straightens out rigidly.) DRISCOLL (pale with horror) Yank ! Yank ! Say a word to me, for the love av hiven ! (He shrinks away from the bunk, making the sign of the cross. Then comes back and puts a trembling hand on Yank's chest and bends closely over the body.) Cocky's voice (from the alleyway) Oh, Dris- coll ! Can you leave Yank for arf a mo and give me a 'and? DRISCOLL (with a great sob) Yank! (He sinks down on his knees beside the bunk, his head on his hands. His lips move in some half-remembered prayer.) COCKY (Enters, his oilskins and sou'wester glistening with drops of water) The fog's lifted. (Cocky sees Driscoll and stands staring at him with open mouth. Driscoll makes the sign of the cross again.) COCKY (mockingly) Sayin' 'is prayers ! (He catches sight of the still figure in the bunk and an expression of awed understanding comes over his face. He takes of his dripping sou'wester and stands scratching his head.) COCKY (in a hushed whisper) Gawd blimey. [CURTAIN] 180 THE WIDOW'S VEIL A COMEDY BY ALICE ROSTETTER Copyright, 1920, BY EGMONT ARENS All Rights Reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Application for permission to produce the play should be made to Egmont Arens, 17 West Eighth St., New York City. Reprinted from No. 9 of "The Flying Stag Plays," published by Egmont Arens, 27 West Eighth St., New York, from whom the acting edition may be obtained. CHARACTERS KATY MACMANUS (she's young and married), MRS. PHELAN, her neighbor, to your left. VOICES AND OTHER SOUNDS, TIME Twenty-four hours and not so long ago. PLACE The meeting place of tender-hearted women. The floor's the fifth. THE WIDOW'S VEIL was first produced by the Provincetown Players at the Playwrights' Thea ter, New York, on January 17, 1919, with the following cast : KATY MACMANUS (she's young and married), Mary Payne Her Neighbor, MRS. PHELAN, to your left, Alice Rostetter VOICES AND OTHER SOUNDS, Lewis B. Ell and Others Directed by George Cram Cook THE WIDOW'S VEIL The curtain rises on a dumb-waiter shaft. Rear, stands the opposite wall, the bricks worn a gray drab in the cracks. There's the rope in the cen ter and the side ropes are vibrating still. The closed doors into the kitchens, right and left, are seen and there's silence on the two sides. The doors into the kitchens on the floors above and below cannot be seen, but the sounds ema nating from them are distinguishable. From the floor above, the sixth floor left, comes muf fled the crying of an irritable baby, and from the cellar comes a voice, bad-tempered and with an edge on it. 'Tis the voice the official voice )f the Janitor. VOICE OF JANITOR Garbage! (The two kitchen doors on the floor below, the fourth floor, promptly open with two clicks, the two pails are slammed on and the two doors shut. The Janitor is heard whipping down the dumb-waiter, dumping the two cans empty, replacing them, giving two of the short est whistles. Then the dumb-waiter is whipped up; the two doors opened, the two pails taken of. The dumb-waiter appears at stage level, the fifth floor, and the two whistles shrill right and left. A careful step is heard and Mrs. Phelan opens the door.) 183 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MRS. PHELAN Good-mornin', Mr. Kelly. VOICE OF JANITOR Garbage ! (He blows, sharper than ever, the whistle of the kitchen, right. Mrs. Phelan is heard putting on her light pail. The dumb waiter is whipped out of sight. Mrs. Phelan is revealed from the waist up; the merest glimpse of a kitchen wall and corner of a nearby table can be seen. Mrs. Phelan is very neat and in dull-colored clothes. The hope-of-better- things -turning -up never smiled from her face. Her hair is graying and drab-colored. She leans out and talks down.) MRS. PHELAN I'll be takin' her milk off, Mr. Kelly. She's maybe sleepin' or readin' or (She leans across and knocks on the door; no one comes. The whistle, left, blows; the waiter shoots up. Mrs. Phelan takes of her pail and her neigh bor's milk and bread. As the waiter shoots up to the floor above she is seen disappearing and her door slipping shut. On the sixth floor the two whistles blow and the two doors are opened and the crying of the baby comes down from the edge of the kitchen door, left.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR RIGHT (an easy, young voice and cheerful) Good- mornin', Mrs. Tynan, and how's the little one to-day? VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT (a sarcastic voice made bitter by lack of sleep) Ye can hear how, can't ye? Not a thing the 184 THE WIDOW'S VEIL matter with him save his father's bad temper. (She slams on her pail, punctuating her belief) And I'll get that out of him, if I haf to (The door left slams shut.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR RIGHT (talking back into the room) And did you hear that, Maggie ! (She puts on her pail; then, as the vibrating ropes jerk tight, comes a sharp but polite) Can't you wait, Mr. Kelly? I've more for you. (Slightly fainter, but distinct, as she bends to lift her package) And, Mag gie, that's married bliss for you. It's us old maids (strong, as she puts on the package) is the lucky ones (the dumb-waiter flies down) believe me! (Her door shuts. The pails are slammed back, the waiter flies past and up, the two whistles shrill and the cellar door bangs shut. The door, sixth floor left, opens, the baby squalling clear again; the pail snatched of and the door shut. The door, sixth floor right, opens.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR RIGHT (as she removes pail and with politic smooth ness, calling down) Mr. Kelly, will you be doin' me a small favor? (Silence) Mr. Kelly! (with sincerity) The old crank! (The door is slammed shut. Silence. The wind makes a faint, mournful sound up the shaft. A voice from the floor below is heard humming a bit of happy song. The wind again keens faint. Mrs. Phelan opens her door, left, leans across and listens. There's no sound. She leans further out. After a second more she knocks, clear and 185 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS 'determined. A step is heard. She knocks again. The door, right, opens slow.) MRS. PHELAN Good-mornin', Mrs. MacManus ! (Mrs. Mac- Manus looks out. Ah, but she's young and pretty! The red hair on her is bright and warm as a flame; the white skin on her, soft. But she's pale and tired now and her two eyes have been weeping. She's on a blue kimono of the shade of her eyes when they're glad. Her de pressed manner warms up with a flick of im patience as she answers.) MRS. MACMANUS Ah, it's you that can say good-mornin', Mrs. Phelan, and no troubles at all. MRS. PHELAN (with pleasurable, but restrained, anticipation) And is it trouble ye have? MRS. MACMANUS (the gulp in her 'voice now) Me man's wurse ! MRS. PHELAN Wurse? And me not knowin' he was sick! (Mrs. MacManus nods, biting her red lips to keep the weeping back) Poor soul 1 poor soul ! But the good Lord will be helpin' ye, Mrs. Mac Manus. He MRS. MACMANUS (sharp again) I'm not doubrin' that, Mrs. Phelan, and me as good a Catholic as y'rself. (Her lips are at it again) But Oh oh Mrs. Phelan, he's goin' on me ! MRS. PHELAN Goin'? Houly Mary, is it dyin' ye mean? 186 THE WIDOWS-VEIL (Mrs. MacManus, with a nod and a loud ketch in her voice, begins to sob) There, there, now 1 Ye poor young thing I And me seein' him only yisterday buyin' the mornin' eggs for ye. Ttt- ttt! And him so hale and hearty seemin'. MRS. MACMANUS 'Twas near night he was taken. Ah (In a burst of nervous, strained energy) Mrs. Phe- lan, the horror is on me still, and me sittin' quiet and lone the night through I MRS. PHELAN (visibly cheering) Ah, be tellin' me all, Mrs. MacManus. 'Twill ease the heart of ye. (Briskly, working in her metier, gossip) Let you bring up a chair and be kneelin' comfort able. (Mrs. MacManus nods. They disap pear, Mrs. Phelan reappearing first and fixing herself for a long talk. She shakes her head with the long sorrow, like a healthy person at a wake. She raises her hands in rich despair. Mrs. MacManus reappears, arranging a bright shawl carefully over her shoulders; she drapes it over her shoulders, her features both woe begone and interested in the hanging of the goods.) MRS. PHELAN (a little impatient) It hangs fine, Mrs. Mac Manus. Be tellin' me all! 'Twill ease y'r heart. (Mrs. MacManus leans, graceful and tired) Begin at the beginnin'. MRS. MACMANUS (the heartache in her voice) Himself came home yester e'en and the clock at four. THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MRS. PHELAN At four! Was he red? MRS. MACMANUS (careful) Not at four. He was white like like MRS. PHELAN (nodding, understanding) The bit stone at the head of a gra MRS. MACMANUS And the blood all gone from his face, Mrs. Phelan. MRS. PHELAN (nodding, fatal) 'Twas them chills. MRS. MACMANUS And his hand cold cold as the hand of a mar ble saint. MRS. PHELAN Ye don't say that ! MRS. MACMANUS And he'd the pain in h_is head and the throat of him burnin' like hot peat. MRS. PHELAN Ah, now, now ! Ah, 'tis true, Mrs. MacManus, in the midst of life we're in death. And what's the doctor namin' it? MRS. MACMANUS And would he let a doctor in the house, and me beggin' him one hour by the clock and the tears in me eyes! MRS. PHELAN Ah, ye should not be askin' him, ye poor young bride. Just have the man in. I'll step around meself and be askin' the doctor to have a look in. 188 THE WIDOW'S VEIL MRS. MACMANUS Ye're kind, Mrs. Phelan. MRS. PHELAN Not at all. But I'm feerin' it's too late. Them chills is- (Mrs. MacManus breaks down and sobs) There, there, now, dearie (She pats her across the shaft, forcing hope, to be kind) It maybe it's only a germ it is, and them that thick in the street. (Mrs. MacManus sobs the harder) Now, now, ye'll blubber all the pretty out of y'r face. (Mrs. MacManus fumbles about for a handkerchief) Is it a hangkercheef ye want? (She extracts one from her apron belt) Me cousin's after leavin' it here (she examines the border) on the way home from Mr. Reilly's wake. (She passes it across) Ye'll not mind the black border, I hope? (Mrs. MacManus, grasping it, sobs violently, like a child) Ah, now, don't take on. It's not stretched out he is yet. Not yet, dearie. Not yet. Be tellin' me more and ease y'r heart. (She sums up brightly) He came home at four and the hand of him all like the hand of a corpse. Ttt, ttt ! And straight he wint for the bed. And then? MRS. MACMANUS (sobbing more quietly) He wouldn't eat the meat I was fixin', the way he likes, with me own two hands. And at nine by the clock he starts mutterin' and tossin' and twistin' like a soul in the black depths of hell. And (She looks up) I takes a chair and I sits beside him and I tries catchin' hold of his hand and kissin' it, 189 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS the way he'll be always doin' and him in his health. And (A bright spark of anger lights up her eye) Ye'll not believe what I'm tellin' ye, Mrs. Phelan! MRS. PHELAN (nodding affirmation) Go on, Mrs. Mac- Manus. MRS. MACMANUS What does he do but snatch back his hand and curses like the mad king of Kildare. And me and me (She resumes a gentle weeping.) MRS. PHELAN (solemnly) -. A ten-day bride! Go on, Mrs. MacManus. MRS. MACMANUS (a little indistinctly) And, says he, shoutin' : "Can't ye be leavin' me to die in peace for one moment!" Oh, Mrs. Phelan, the red face of him, and his eyes closed in it. MRS. PHELAN (recording the change) 'Twas red by that in spots? MRS. MACMANUS No, just plain. And me watchin' it the clock 'round. MRS. PHELAN (again summing up) Red and hot and his mind bad. Poor young thing! Poor young thing ! But go on, while ye can. MRS. MACMANUS - And when the cold mornin' light comes stralin' in, and the clock at four, he stops mutterin' and tossin', and lies still, except for the sound in his throat. 190 THE WIDOW'S VEIL MRS. PHELAN Glory be to God, Mrs. MacManus, it's the end! It's the rattl MRS. MACMANUS (alarmed) What d'ye mean, Mrs. Phelan? MRS. PHELAN (rapidly easing her own heart and keeping the raw truth, as she sees it, from Mrs. MacManus) Ye'll be knowin' soon enough. Arra, arra, it's the like of that hangkercheef ye'll be usin' soon. But go on, Mrs. MacManus, go on. Ah, it's the night ye had! MRS. MACMANUS (looking at her for further comfort) And sit- tin' on me chair, thinkin', it comes to me sudden and quick 'twas warnin' me Pat was, Sunday night last. MRS. PHELAN Warnin' ye? MRS. MACMANUS I'm knowin' now he had a presintement of what was to come. Says he the night of Sunday ye know his bright^way says he: "Katy, if I go to join the angels afore you do " MRS. PHELAN Sakes ! MRS. MACMANUS " ye must be marryin' again. Ye're too pretty to be livin' alone, though," says he, smilin', "the widow's veil will become ye fine, and that hair warmin' the heart of a man. It'll set ye fine, Katy." 191 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MRS. PHELAN It will. YeVe a black skirt? (Mrs. Mac- Manus gives a cry, all tears and despair, and a bit of protest. Mrs. Phelan speaks sternly) Ye must be ready, out of respect for the good man. Have ye a waist will do? MRS. MACMANUS (muffled, patient, despairing) Me new one with the gold lace and MRS. PHELAN (nodding, business-like) The little vest ! 'Twill do fine and easy fixed. Have ye a bit of bonnet? MRS. MACMANUS The black one with the blue wing lyin' down at the side. MRS. PHELAN Fine! Yes, ye've the color for the veil. And ye'll not be buyin' it, Mrs. MacManus, for me cousin'll lend it to ye (A gesture of protest from Mrs. MacManus. Reassuring her) And glad of the chance, Mrs. MacManus. (Mrs. MacManus is sobbing regularly and with less control each sob) She's after showin' it to me. It's that fine 'twould do y'r heart good. There, now ! And the hem, Mrs. MacManus, the hem ! (Mrs. MacManus gives a rending sob, flings up her two hands in agony nnd disappears. The door shuts behind her. Mrs. Phelan shakes her head after her in real sympathy) The poor young thing! (Then she straightens up, taking of her apron. Briskly) I'll be steppin' out now for the doctor. (The smile leaves her face and she nods her head reverently, talking as if 192 THE WIDOW'S VEIL in the presence of the corpse) And him that was always so hearty. Poor young thing ! Poor young thing! (She slips out, closing her door quietly. All is still for a moment, then the faint wind is again beginning to be heard. The door, sixth floor left, opens and the crying of the baby, distant from an inner room, comes down. The Woman Sixth Floor Left rattles the dumb waiter rope and waits. There's a careful, faint sound from the cellar, as the cellar door is opened on a crack.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT Mr. Kelly, there's no stame at all. (Silence) There's not one drop of heat in the pipes and the children comin' home from school. (Silence, with the breath of two people present in it) Y're there, Mr. Kelly, that I know. And I'll have the landlord on ye, for y'r insubordina (Door of fourth floor left opens. Joyous noise of hungry children.) VOICE OF WOMAN FOURTH FLOOR LEFT (a gentle, motherly voice) And here's the children, Mr. Kelly, and the pipes VOICE OF LITTLE GIRL FOURTH FLOOR LEFT Here's Johnny Phelan come for lunch, mither. VOICE OF JOHNNY PHELAN Me mudder's out. VOICE OF WOMAN FOURTH FLOOR LEFT (speaking into the room) Sit ye down there. VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT (loud) This is me last wurd, Mr. Kelly. The breath is leavin' me body in the form of ice ! 193 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS (There's a faint noise in the cellar of a door cautiously closed.) VOICE OF WOMAN FOURTH FLOOR LEFT (bright and ready for a talk) Ye're right, Mrs. Tynan. He was there. ( The door above slams shut. Speaking back into the room) Be givin' Johnny Phelan some of your tea. (The door closes. Again the sound of a faint wind. The whistle, sixth floor left, blows, with flowery in direction; the cellar door opens and a man whistles the first half of a phrase from Santa Lucia. The door of the sixth floor left opens.) PLEASANT ITALIAN VOICE Ice-a man, lady? (A wail from the baby es capes.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT (baited, angry) No! (The Italian completes with the phrase, closing the cellar door. Silence. A moment of wind. The whistle, sixth floor right, blows with irritable precision. The cel lar door opens. Pause. Whistle: irritable crescendo. Pause. Whistle. Pause.) VOICE OF GROCER (Teutonic and disagreeable) De grozzer! Gott in Himmel, dieses (Door closes with re strained fury. Silence. Sounds, left, from Mrs. Phelan' s kitchen. She is moving about. A siz zling and pleasant smell escapes, as her door opens. She still has her hat on; her face is busy and cheerful. She disappears a moment and then reappears with part of bottle of milk and part of a loaf of bread. She knocks quietly but distinctly. She knocks a second time. The door 194 THE WIDOW'S VEIL right opens. Mrs. MacManus stands, weak and pale and patient.) MRS. PHELAN (handing the milk and bread across) Here's the mornin's milk, and y'r bread. (Mrs. Mac- Manns takes them, putting them down right) And here's (Mrs. Phelan turns back and brings up from the nearby table a tray with luncheon) a bit of lunch I'm after fixin' for you. (She hands it across) Better late than never. Ye must eat, Mrs. MacManus, even with the black sorrow in the house. MRS. MACMANUS (in a weak voice) It's only a sup of tea I've had and the day near its end. The lump in me throat but I'll try, Mrs. Phelan. MRS. PHELAN Be puttin' it on the table there/ so's we can talk. (Mrs. McManus does) And himself is he MRS. MACMANUS (looking up, ready to take heart if she only may) He's a bit conscious now (Mrs. Phe- lan's face drops) but I'm not darin' to hope. MRS. PHELAN Y're right, Mrs. MacManus. They're always better before they're worse. I left word with the doctor. (Taking of her hat) He was out deliverin' a woman. Awh, it's wonderful, Mrs. MacManus, the way a new soul comin' in brushes past the old one (pointing into Mrs. MacManus' room) goin' out! (Mrs. Mac Manus chokes a bit on her toast. Cheering her) 195 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS And now hear the good news. Me cousin's after lendin' ye the veil. MRS. MACMANUS (putting down her tea) Ah, the sharp sorrow's on me again at the word ! MRS. PHELAN (mechanically undoing the package) Wisha, darlin', ye may never need it. And I have it right here. (Mrs. MacManus pushes the tray aside. Ingratiating) Will ye be seein' it? How soft it hangs ! (She is now holding the 'veil in -the shaft) And the hem it's two inches, it is. Will ye be weighin' it, in y'r hand it's that light. MRS. MACMANUS (weighing it) 'Tis light. MRS. PHELAN Where's the bit hat ye was tellin' me of? MRS. MACMANUS It's under the bed. Himself maybe will be see- in' me. MRS. PHELAN And what if he does, darlin' ? and the blue wing yet on it. (Mrs. MacManus, passes back the veil and disappears. Mrs. Phelan holds it up, half draping it. Mrs. MacManus hands over the hat.) MRS. MACMANUS (a tremor in her voice) I've the scissors here. MRS. PHELAN Thanks. Be drinkin' y'r tea, that's the gurl. Easy on, (She snips of the wing) easy off. Let me see what way it looks on ye. 196 THE WIDOW'S VEIL MRS. MACMANUS (putting it on deftly, giving a touch to her hair) It would be different with the wing off? (There's a. little worry in her voice.) MRS. PHELAN Ye should see the way it looks ! And now be tryin' the veil. I've the pins with me. (She passes one over.) MRS. MACMANUS Ye're good to me, Mrs. Phelan, takin' all this pains. MRS. PHELAN Oh, I'm enjoyin' it fine, Mrs. MacManus! Now take the short end that's it and put it See if I can be reachin' you. Now pin that back there. Ah, now, will ye look ! Ye were born for the style I Ye should never wear any thing else. MRS. MACMANUS (pleased) Ye like it fine ? I'll have another pin if ye have it. MRS. PHELAN The white neck of ye. MRS. MACMANUS It would look well? MRS. PHELAN And the hair of ye, lickin' out like a little flame and dancin' on y'r ear. MRS. MACMANUS (with desire) I wonder could I be seein' me- self? MRS. PHELAN And what's to prevent? 197 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MRS. MACMANUS (smiling) Nothin' that I know. (She turns toward the room) I'll be gettin' the glass. MRS. PHELAN (in horror) Glory be to God, Mrs. MacManus, stop! MRS. MACMANUS (turning a face of pure disappointment) I could be goin' in on me toes. He's sleepin' fine. MRS. PHELAN Would ye kill the man, and this his last mo ment! Whst, wait. I'll be bringin' me own glass. (She disappears. Mrs. MacManus fixes the folds, seeing them with her fingers. She hums a bit as she tries to see the effect of the long ripple of goods down her back. Mrs. Phelan reappears, holding out the glass) Here, darlin'. Take the side look first. Ain't that pretty? And the white neck of ye gleamin' against the dark. MRS. MACMANUS (surveying it with pleasure) In his health he will be always kissin' it, will Pat. MRS. PHELAN And why not? and you lookin' like the queen of all Ireland and the king dead. (The door bell in the kitchen rings sharp. Mrs. Mac Manus, with a start, clutches her bosom.) MRS. MACMANUS Mary, save me! What's that? (They wait, listening.) MRS. PHELAN (slowly) It's maybe the doctor. (Mrs. MacManus turns 198 THE WIDOW'S VEIL abruptly, about to go in. Mrs. Phelan speaks in sharp alarm) Hould, woman! And you meetin' the doctor like that, he'll be havin' you up for murder. MRS. MACMANUS (going to pieces, in wild excitement and tearing the thing of her head) Ye'll all have the heart torn out of me, pullin' me this way -and that. (She thrusts over the hat and veil. The door bell rings a second time. She disappears and the dumb-waiter door shuts.) MRS. PHELAN (the hat on her hand and straightening out the folds) The Houly Mother protect them both ; him dyin' and her breakin' her heart for the loss of him. (Giving a last look at the hat and veil, exhibited on her hand) The poor, pretty young thing! (She closes the door, disappear ing. The shaft grows dark and the wind keens a bit stronger. Door fourth floor left opens.) VOICE OF MAN FOURTH FLOOR LEFT Well? No, Biddie, there's no one at the whis tle. And I says to the boss (Door closes. Silence. Mrs. Phelan opens her door slowly, cautiously. She listens. Quiet. She gives a long, mournful sigh and closes the door. The baby on sixth floor left starts crying.) VOICE OF MAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT (near door) What the divil's the matter with him now? VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT Nothin's the matter, save his father's bad temp (Quiet. Mrs. Phelan opens her door, 199 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS listens, shakes her head with sorrowful satis faction.) MRS. PHELAN Rest his soul. Whsst, Johnny! (Johnny galumps near) Shh, a man's dyin' within. Be goin' down to the door and see if the black crepe's up. (Mrs. Phelan takes out a handker chief and still listening keenly, begins to weep and sniff.) VOICE OF JOHNNY (in a penetrating whisper) Not yet, mither! I looked before. MRS. PHELAN (disappointed, but feelingly) It's a long pass- in'. (She closes door. Silence.) VOICE OF LITTLE GIRL (fourth floor left) It's me prayers I'm doin', mither. (Pause.) VOICE OF MAN FOURTH FLOOR LEFT Good-night, sweet Biddie Murphy. (Silence. The wind keens a bit. Sleepy fretting of a child. Slippered feet on oil-cloth, left. Mrs. Phelan, her hair done smooth in a tight pig tail and in her night-gown, opens door. Listens. Muffled comes the sound of a dog howling.) MRS. PHELAN (Crossing herself; on a voice that keens) God rest his soul I [THE CURTAIN DROPS AND IMMEDIATELY RISES, TO INDICATE MORNING] Baby sixth floor left wails and the father is heard walking up and down and crooning to it. It 200 THE WIDOW'S VEIL quiets. It is still. Silence. A dog gives two sharp barks. Silence. Faint but persistent comes the amorous antiphony of two cats. A pale, white light steals down the shaft. The steam is heard cracking and clanking in the cold pipes. The door sixth floor left opens, and a yellow light streams down. The man pulls up the empty dumb-waiter. VOICE OF MAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT Damn that milkman! Why in hell can't he (Door slams shut. Immediately from the cel lar comes a cheery young whistle, and the waiter flies down; four pairs of milk bottles are put on. The cellar door bangs shut.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT (sleep, sour) It's the milkman now, Mike. VOICE OF MAN SIXTH FLOOR LEFT I'm not goin' ter pull up that damned waiter again if (The door is shut. The baker's boy puts on the bread. He blows the eight whistles with vigor and delight. The door sixth floor right opens.) VOICE OF WOMAN SIXTH FLOOR RIGHT (the easy, cheerful, young voice) It's the bread, Maggie. I'll be pullin' it up. (Mrs. Phelan' s door is seen opening on a crack. As the waiter passes the stage level, the hands of Johnny Phelan shoot out and he grabs of his mother's milk and bread. The waiter is yanked past and up and the pleasant voice grows angry) I saw you, Johnny Phelan you good-for-nothin' lazy lout. (The hand and arm of Johnny Phelan project through the crack into the dumb-waiter 201 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS shaft and the fingers of the hand temporarily attached to a nose wriggle in disdain) And if ever I get me two hands into your hair (Her door shuts. Johnny Phelan executes, unseen, a shuffle on the oilcloth.) MRS. PHELAN (appearing suddenly) Ye black-hearted boy, dancin', and the man lyin' there in his coffin cold dead! (Mrs. Phelan leans over and lis tens. In surprise) There's no keenin' not a sob. There's somethin' wrong! (She knocks, calling) Mrs. Mac Man us. (The door, right, opens suddenly and sharply and Mrs. MacManus is seen. She has on a house dress and apron and her sleeves are rolled up. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed; her manner brisk, angry.) . MRS. MACMANUS Good-mornin', Mrs. Phelan if ye can call it a good mornin' when y'r asked to go six ways at once and only one pair of feet for the goin' ! MRS. PHELAN (with a fine regret in her voice) Then yeVe saved him? MRS. MACMANUS Saved him ! It's meself that needs savin' now. What with "The newspaper, darlin' " and "A drink of water, me pretty" and "Is the coffee ready, mavourneen?" and it's meat he's yellin' for now ! MRS. PHELAN Doctor Platz is the rare wonder. 202 THE WIDOW'S VEIL MRS. MACMANUS He's not. 'Twas nothin' but the two tonsils in his throat started all the roarin' and rampin' and preparin' us for his death. (There's an empty pause.) MRS. PHELAN (looking down the shaft; in a lying 'voice) Now did I hear the ice man, Mrs. MacManus? MRS. MACMANUS (looking down and lying, too) I think maybe ye did. No, 'twas something else. MRS. PHELAN (beckoning her closer) I'll be takin' it back to me cousin, the morn. MRS. MACMANUS (regretfully, In pleasant reminiscence) It did become me, did it not, Mrs. Phelan? MRS. PHELAN That it did, Mrs. MacManus. MRS. MACMANUS (hesitating) Could I be seein' it a minute? MRS. PHELAN (turning left and taking the hat and 'veil from the table near) I have it ready sewed and the iron goin' over it. MRS. MACMANUS I wonder if (She listens back) He's readin' the paper. MRS. PHELAN (handing over the hat and veil) I've the glass with me. (Mrs. MacManus puts on the hat and veil, straightening the folds.) 203 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MRS. MACMANUS It does hang nice and rich. MRS. PHELAN Ah, Mrs. MacManus, I'll never be happy till I see the like of it on y'r head again ! MRS. MACMANUS (with a nervous glance over her shoulder) Be givin' me the glass ! (She takes it and smiles as she sees the reflection) It does look grand. It sets me fine. Mrs. Phelan, I never put a thing on me head that pleased me more. VOICE OF PAT (from some distance; kind) Katy, darlin' ! MRS. MACMANUS (in utter terror) It's himself! VOICE OF PAT (a little nearer; more insistent) Katy MRS. MACMANUS (to him as she grabs of the hat and veil) Stand where ye are ! It's caught, Mrs. Phelan. (Loud, back to Pat) Out of the draft. (After a moment fraught with agony, the veil is freed. She bundles it and the hat together and thrusts them over to Mrs. Phelan) Tell y'r cousin VOICE OF PAT (irritable) Kate MRS. MACMANUS I'm cpmin^man! The hat's hers and I'm ,thankin' her for the loan and sorry I can't be usin' it. (Turning towards the room, with ter rible irony) Is it y'r five pounds of steak, Pat, y're wantin' now? (The door shuts behind her.) 204 THE WIDOW'S VEIL MRS. PHELAN Poor soul! (Looking at the door angrily) And him that hearty! (She gives the veil a last sad look and fixing it as it hangs grand on her hand) Ah, you never know the wurst till it comes. (As she shuts the door in reproach and disappointment) The poor, pretty young thing. (As the curtain begins to descend two sharp whistles are heard.) VOICE OF JANITOR Garbage ! [CURTAIN] 205 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN A PLAY BY RITA WELLMAN Copyright, 1917, BY RITA WELLMAN All Rights Reserved Applications for the right of performing "The String of the Samisen" must be made to Miss Rita Wellman, 142 East Eight eenth St., New York. THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN was originally produced by The Provincetown Players, New York, on January 17, 1919, with the following cast: KATSU MORI, a rich merchant, Ward Roege TAMA, his wife, Edna St. Vincent Millay ARINORI OKUBO, Rollo Peters SUTSUMI, teacher of the Samisen, O. K. Liveright HATSU, Tama's maid, Blanche Hays Setting by Lloyd Wright Directed by Michio Itow CHARACTERS KATSU MORI, a rich merchant TAMA, his wife ARINORI OKUBO ; a young samurai SUTSUMI, teacher of the samisen HATSU, Tama's maid Two YOUNG SAMURAI The action takes place in Japan of the eighteenth century. NOTE. Although the theme of this play is taken from a Bushido legend, the author has used her material freely in her own way, but begs to be pardoned for any anachronisms. THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN SCENE : Large room in the merchant's house. Three screens at back forming the walls. A space for an entrance between the foremost screens, the other placed in the background to form a passage. These screens are painted silver, with sprays of azaleas in faint pink. Shoji (paper windows) occupy the whole of the walls right and left. On the back screen left a kakemono. Beneath it a tall, white porce lain jar with a single iris flower. Mats on the floor right and left. A small lacquer table at left forward. It is afternoon. Hatsu, the maid, wearing a cotton crepe kimono, enters at back, and bows to the ground before Sutsumi, who comes in slowly, pointing his cane before him, as he is blind. He wears a grey crepe kimono and a scarf over his head; this he removes. He is old and grey. SUTSUMI Hatsu-San, where is your mistress? Is she here? HATSU She is here, Sutsumi-San. I will call her. Your health is good, Sutsumi? SUTSUMI If the blind and old can be well. And you, Hatsu-San ? 209 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS HATSU I am young and strong and no evil spirit touches me. (Bows) I will call my lady. (She bows again and goes out entrance at back. Tama enters. She is a pretty, dainty creature, dressed in an exquisite embroidered kimono of cherry- colored silk. Her hair is arranged elaborately.) SUTSUMI (bowing) O-Kami-San. TAMA (bowing) Sutsumi-San, how did you know that I had come in? SUTSUMI I heard the rustle of your silk. TAMA And I am famous for my quiet walk! Be seated. (She sits on the mat left and he sits on the mat right.) SUTSUMI My lady is well? TAMA I am always well, thank you. And you? SUTSUMI I grow well when I hear my lady's voice. TAMA I am a very bad pupil. I have not practiced at all. (Claps her hands) Hatsu must bring me my samisen. After all, work is not pleasant. The birds do not have to learn to sing. For my part, I would rather play from morning until night. There are many pleasant games to learn if you are idle enough. 210 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN SUTSUMI My lady is wise beyond her years. HATSU (entering, bowing) Here is your samisen, my lady. ( She hands Tama the samisen, a musical instrument something like a guitar, with three strings, and played with a small piece of ivory. Hatsu then goes out.) TAMA Do you know any dances, Sutsumi? SUTSUMI Ladies of high degree do not dance ! TAMA Oh, there you are wrong, Sutsumi. Everyone is dancing now. There is Haru-San. She knows a dance. It is as if she were being pur sued by spiders. She is a very ugly woman and she has had ten children. Her husband has five concubines, and he is always threatening to divorce her because she is a gossip. But I think it is on account of her dancing. SUTSUMI It is not pleasant to think upon spiders. TAMA But I am sure there must be more alluring dances, if not necessarily designed for the en tertainment of one's august husband. SUTSUMI All good things ladies learn are necessarily de signed for the entertainment of their august husbands. 211 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA (with a sigh) I wonder how that started, Sutsumi ? SUTSUMI The law of human deportment sprang from the word of Buddha. TAMA (thoughtfully) Yes, that is so. (Quickly) Sutsumi, I would like to learn a dance that is something like a song a song with a body a song that is the petal of a plum blossom in an April breeze. SUTSUMI An imagination is a dangerous thing in a woman. TAMA (coaxingly) Sutsumi, please play me a song. A swaying, dancing kind of song. I do not care where you learned it if it comes from the secret houses of delight where men forget their honorable duties and which good women pass with their nostrils squeezed together lest they breathe contamination. SUTSUMI My lady ! TAMA Hurry ! Play me a song. You go every place. You learn everything. Your eyes are blind, but the gods gave you eyes in your ears and fingers. SUTSUMI I would play you such a song but your lord TAMA Oh, you need not worry about him. My lord 212 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN is attending an important meeting of merchants. My lord is never smiling these days. He has traded honestly all his life, but he has somehow made an enemy. SUTSUMI I cannot imagine how anyone should come to hate your lord. TAMA Nor I. He is as harmless as a woman for all his stormy looks. I do believe that the more gentle he grows the darker he makes his face purposely. SUTSUMI It is a disgrace to be soft in your ways when you are a man. But is there no one to hear our song? TAMA Only Hatsu. As you know, I live all alone. SUTSUMI You are favored of the gods. TAMA Yes, I am a fortunate woman. I have no mother-in-law and my husband has no concu bines. My house is my own. All my rich em broideries my silk worms even my garden. My garden is my own, from the silver lake with the lotus blossoms down to the smallest snail. SUTSUMI Your life is free of shadows. TAMA I could not have more even if I were unre- spectable. Yet the life of an oiran is an easy 213 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS . one. To sing and dance all day long and to wear a gorgeous unabashed obi. To lure men from their honorable boredom. To smilingly make them forget their duties. Life in Japan is just duty after duty. How is that, Sutsumi? SUTSUMI I am teacher of the samisen, not the book of Wisdom. Play for me the song I gave you to learn and then we will learn a dance. TAMA (starts to play the samisen) When I sit by the garden wall and sing, I can hear footsteps grow slow on the other side. I should like to be a man and walk by a garden wall and hear a lady singing. (She plays a moment falteringly, then puts down the samisen to talk) Did you ever see an Englishman, Sutsumi? I know a lady . who saw an Englishman. His nose started from his eyes like a demon, and his eyes were close together like a bird of prey. He did everything the wrong way, and he had no soul. What can you expect? In England the women rule; and there have been cases where a young girl of sixteen commands the life of five or even six young men. SUTSUMI England is a land of Barbarians. TAMA Children may be rude to their parents, and a wife may say no to her husband. The gods must be very fond of the English. (Sings) 214 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN Adana e- gao -ni Mayowanu mono wa Ki-Butsu- Kana- Butsu Ishi -botoke. SUTSUMI Where did you learn that song, my lady? That is not one of my songs. TAMA (laughing gaily) I heard it on the street. A funny little boy was singing it. It is such an amusing little song. Does it shock you, Sut- sumi? SUTSUMI If your lord should hear that song and believe that it was I who taught it to you TAMA He will never hear it. (Laughs gaily.) SUTSUMI I cannot see why you laugh, my lady. TAMA The sunlight. You do not see the sunlight, Sutsumi. It is dancing on the floor up from my pool in the garden. Oh, I am so happy to day ! I feel like a young tree. I am the child who has no punishment. You are so funny, Sutsumi, with your dark, still face. It is like the august house of the Kami with the never- opening doors. SUTSUMI When you have known all the sorrow I have known The cherry blossom lasts for half a week, but sin and sorrow last all the year. 215 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA I hate sad people. (Sitting beside him) Tell me something about life, then, since you know so much about it. SUTSUMI And do you know nothing about life, my lady? TAMA Only what nice women know. From the time I was a child until I was fifteen I had a few lessons how to sew and how to sit and how to arrange flowers and pour tea and those fairy tales they tell us about the people in other lands. And, of course, always the talk of the old women about how children are born. SUTSUMI You were well educated. TAMA Then one day my father said to me, Tama, you are to have a husband. The day of splendor has come, I said to myself. Well, he came to see me. Our parents did all the talking. I saw him only out of the corner of my eyes. But I kept saying to myself: This my husband! This august monkey! This honorable grand father! This mountain of cruelty! SUTSUMI I hope you obeyed your father's wishes? TAMA Oh, yes! I am the daughter of a samurai. I was brought up in obedience. It is life, I said. Life is not for love. Love is for the gods and geishas. We were married. I received more bright silks for my dowry than any maiden in 216 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN my town, and the gifts that passed back and forth were worthy of royalty. SUTSUMI You were happy? TAMA No. Bright silks and a dowry of nice things do not make a happy marriage. My mother- in-law showed me the way of hell. I soon went home to my father's house. That is all I know about life, Sutsumi. SUTSUMI Your second lord is kind and rich. You are happy now? TAMA Yes, he is kind. He never scolds me, and he never reproaches me for having no children. But who knows, that may not be entirely my fault. SUTSUMI My lady 1 TAMA Your being blind makes me believe you deaf also. (Suddenly catching up the samisen) Let us sing a song that is gay gay as a blue sky in a clear pool where there are lotus flowers, and swans with proud necks, and the mysterious faces of two lovers who are vowed to each other for seven lives. SUTSUMI I know no such song. TAMA Then invent one. 217 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS SUTSUMI My heart has no clear pools only valleys of snow. TAMA Then I will. (Plays and recites) How dark is the pool. But now a soft light shines there Two lovers are drinking They do not see their shadows Among the watery flowers. SUTSUMI That is not gay, my lady. Shadows mean death. TAMA Some spirit compelled me. I will sing a gay song now. (She starts to play, but as she does so the string of her samisen snaps.) SUTSUMI (startled) What was that? TAMA The string of my samisen snapped. SUTSUMI (mysteriously) Do you know what that means ? TAMA It means something, Sutsumi? SUTSUMI The dancing girls have a superstition, that when the string of the samisen snaps lovers will be parted. TAMA (rising) Lovers will be parted ! SUTSUMI Lovers; not husband and wife! 218 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN TAMA (alarmed). Yes lovers. Sutsumi, my lesson is ended for to-day. You may leave me now. SUTSUMI Surely an honorable wife can have nothing to fear from the snapping of the samisen string. TAMA To fear? I do not fear. Please go now, Sut sumi. SUTSUMI My lady, your voice is like the trembling of leaves. TAMA An evil spirit possessed my song that is all. SUTSUMI Let me take your samisen. I will put in a new string. TAMA (clinging to It) No! No! I will keep my samisen ! SUTSUMI (preparing to go) As my lady wishes. (Feel ing about with his stick) That is the way to my lady's apartments. There is the shoji. There is the entrance to my lady's house. Am I right? TAMA (handing something he has dropped) Yes, you are right, Sutsumi. (Leading him bacti) It is fortunate to be old and blind. Then one sees only the light. One is not groping in the dark ways of love. 219 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS SUTSUMI The honorable lady and the dancing girl arc both flowers but they bloom in different sea sons. (Bowing very low) My lady my lady has nothing to fear. TAMA Good-bye, Sutsumi. SUTSUMI (bowing low at the door) Good-bye, my lady. (Sutsumi goes out. Tama sits and takes her samisen and places a new string in it. Hatsu enters presently in great excitement.) HATSU My lady ! TAMA (impatiently) Don't breathe so loud. What is wrong with you? HATSU . The teacher of the samisen ! TAMA (after a moment) Coming now? HATSU Here, my lady ! He has taken off his disguise at the outer door. TAMA (in excitement) Hurry! Bring me my toilet case. I look like an old hag. Where is my new kimono? Oh, Hatsu, why did you make me wear this ugly thing to-day? Hurry! (She rushes to back and gets a heavy silk kimono of rich embroidery, which she puts on over the other. Hatsu brings the toilet case and Tama 220 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN sits before it and powders her face and darkens her lips.) HATSU Here he is, my lady! (Tama rises in great confusion, but controls herself and waits with dignity and calm. Arinori Okubo enters.) ARINORI (bowing) My lady ! TAMA (bowing) My lord! (To Hatsu, who lingers) Hatsu! (Hatsu runs out, taking the toilet case with her.) ARINORI It is I! TAMA Arinori ! ARINORI You did not expect me, then? TAMA No. I thought it was only my old blind teacher. ARINORI (ardently) My beautiful one ! TAMA Do not come too close. Your face is like the moon, Arinori rising after a night of pain. Stay there. I cannot breathe when my life is coming back to me so fast. The gods when they visit the earth must know how sweet it is to breathe after so long a breathlessness. ARINORI My hands have thirsted for your touch. (He takes her hands.) 221 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA Oh, sacred sin of loving! I am ready to join a thousand restless demons and go wailing about the earth forever for the sake of this moment. ARINORI Your lips are like the sake wine they prepare for children at The Feast of Dolls. ARINORI My love! TAMA My lord! (They embrace.) ARINORI Tama, my child, you must listen to me. Sit here. I must tell you something of importance. Where is your maid? TAMA (loudly) At the screen listening. (Laughing as Hatsu is heard running away) Wherever Hatsu goes there are holes in the shoji. My love, your face to-day is as fierce and brilliant as the sun himself. What is the matter? ARINORI Tama, there is one in the city who is plotting against me and my kind the noble samurai. He has raised ant hills of spies against us. Our privileges are being encroached upon our im mortal rights. Our very lives are in danger from this man, such an evil power he has. And to meet him no one would know not even those who live in the same house with him would suspect that he is possessed of a thou sand devils. 222 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN TAMA Arinori, the man must be a demon to plot against you. But why do you come here to talk of such rough things? You have not even told me that I look beautiful. ARINORI You do look beautiful. You always look beau- tiful. TAMA I do not like to be told that I always look beau tiful. I like to be told that I look beautiful now. ARINORI Tama, you are the daughter of a samurai. You must give me your help. TAMA Oh, do not ask me to do anything wicked, Ari nori. I cannot do anything evil. I am just your little almond flower. Why should I risk my frailness in men's rough affairs? ARINORI Do you not want to help me, Tama? TAMA (seductively) I will help you. In your tea house by the river. The priests talk about paradise in eternity, but we know better, Arinori. Hurry there now; I will meet you. ARINORI This is serious, Tama. TAMA Is there anything more serious than love? ARINORI There is death. 223 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA Death is not serious at all when it is for love's sake. ARINORI There is one thing more serious than love and death. TAMA What is that? ARINORI There is duty. TAMA Duty! Do not talk to me of duty. To hear people talk in Japan you would imagine there was nothing in life but duty. ARINORI Tama, the man who is plotting against me is Katsu Mori. TAMA My husband I ARINORI Now you understand. TAMA My husband! You are his enemy then? You, Arinori Okubo? ARINORI He is my enemy. TAMA You two are enemies? ARINORI He must die. TAMA Oh, no, Arinori! 224 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN ARINORI He is starting a rebellion he wants to kill the samurai. He is a dangerous man. If his kind is allowed to live they will crush out the flower of Japan, her beautiful tradition of no bility and chivalry. TAMA He only wants to sell his silks, Arinori. I know that. He has told me so hundreds of times. He wants to be allowed to trade in peace, that is all. Hasn't he a right to trade ? ARINORI It is vulgar to trade. He must die. My hon ored father is dead. I have no brothers. I alone represent the dignity of my house. In the honor of my noble name I must kill this man. TAMA But my husband, Arinori ! ARINORI And you must help me. TAMA No, no ! That I cannot do. Not even for your sake, Arinori. Not even for you. ARINORI (going back) You do not love me then. TAMA (following him) Arinori, what are you say ing? I do not love you ! Come, we will think of another way. I will think of something. Do not run away from me. Do not leave me like that. (She goes on her knees before him) Do not be cruel to me, Arinori. 15 225 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ARINORI (turning, threateningly) You will do as I wish ? TAMA Oh, my dear, my dear ARINORI Answer me, Tama. TAMA I have been wicked. I have been drowning in sweet wine. ARINORI You regret my love. TAMA I cannot sin twice. Ask me anything, Arinori anything but that. ARINORI I demand that you help me, Tama. TAMA (in an awed voice) Arinori, do you know that the bond between husband and wife is sacred and endures for two lives? ARINORI Will you help me? TAMA Your voice is like thunder. It is shaking my roots. ARINORI You will? TAMA Think of what you ask me, my beloved. ARINORI (going back) Everything is ended from now on. 226 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN TAMA (calling) Arinori 1 Arinori ! ARINORI You consent? TAMA (after a 'pause bowing her head very low) Yes. ARINORI (coming near her) Listen to me, Tama. You must see that he returns home to-night. TAMA Yes. ARINORI He has stayed out the whole night recently? TAMA Yes. ARINORI When he does come home he is usually late, is he not? TAMA Yes. ARINORI He must sleep in the room which opens to the gallery the room which faces the garden. TAMA Yes our sleeping room. ARINORI Your sleeping room, yes. You must have a lantern. When he is asleep you must pass it back and forth slowly three times before the shoji of his room. Do you understand? TAMA Three times slowly. 227 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ARINORI It will be the signal. TAMA The signal. ARINORI We will come from the street. We will make our escape through the garden. The amada must be ready for us to pass in. My sword is the carved sword of my ancestors. It will kill him augustly and with honor. TAMA Yes. ARINORI Do you understand all? TAMA Yes, my lord all. ARINORI Rise and look into my face, Tama. (She rises and goes to him) Do you love your husband? TAMA I love you, Arinori. When you came you were the answer to all prayers. You were the vision of all dreams. I have envied none not even the gods. ARINORI Your servants must see nothing. They must be away. TAMA Everything shall be done as you say. ARINORI Three times slowly. Do you remember? TAMA I remember. 228 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN ARINORI (putting on the cloak of the samisen teacher) When he is gone there will be no more separa tions. TAMA Arinori, I do not know you now. Your eyes are as terrible as a blue-flaming sword. ARINORI A merchant to insult a samurai! My august father ripped open his own bowels with his knife rather than allow an inferior to conquer him. My sister flung herself into the sea to drown rather than yield to her father's enemy and she loved him. I wear the armor of my ancestors in my heart. TAMA I bow before your terribleness, my lord. Your will shall be obeyed. ARINORI Your lover will be yours forever, Tama after to-night. TAMA After to-night. ARINORI Remember all that I have told you and be cautious. TAMA I will be cautious. (He goes out with much dignity. Tama stands awed and frightened. Then she calls faintly Hatsu!) HATSU (entering) Yes, my lady ! What is the mat ter, my lady? 229 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA Nothing nothing is the matter. Only that I am a woman. The silver crown of sorrow that all women must wear is coming down upon my white forehead. I am a daughter blessed by the gods. I am a child with no punishments. But the gods are men and the world is the dwell ing place of men. We are only the pleasure flowers who suffer eternally that we may be fragrant for a single day. HATSU I never saw my lady sad. TAMA No. I was playing a game. I was a may-fly who pretends that one summer day will last forever. But how quickly the cold night comes. (She shudders.) HATSU My lady! (She begins to whimper and wipe her eyes with her sleeve.) TAMA (stamping her foot) Hatsu ! I am a daughter of a samurai. I despise your wet sleeve. Go and leave me alone. HATSU Yes, my lady. (She goes out. Tama, after a moment, picks up her samisen listlessly and ex amines the new string. She then sits down and plays, singing in a strained voice which attempts to be gay.) Adana e gao ni May o wanu mono wa 230 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN Ki-Butsu Kana-Butsu Ishi botoke. END OF SCENE The curtain goes up almost at once. It is the same room arranged as a sleeping room. Hatsu is unrolling the beds for the night. The small lacquer table is placed at right. On the right wall, well forward, a large red lacquer chest. Lighted lanterns, one right and one left, well down. A faint light comes through the shoji at right from a lantern outside. Tama enters. TAMA My lord has come at last. HATSU Yes, my lady. Everything is ready. I will bring the tea. TAMA Yes, bring the tea, Hatsu. (Katsu Mori enters. He is a large man, past middle age.) TAMA (bowing) My lord! KATSU Tama! Still awake? It is very late. TAMA I waited for you, my lord. KATSU (seating himself with satisfaction on the mat furthest left) How quiet is my own home after the harsh voices of men. Why do we strive for riches in this world, Tama, when the mats are ready laid at home ? (Hatsu enters, bring- 231 THE PROVIXCETOWX PLAYS a small lacquer tray with tea. She places this ox the table before Tama. She the* goes to close the amada (the wooden outside shut ters.) TAMA (as Hatsu puts down the tea) Thank Hatsu. (as Hatsu is about to close the shut ters) ^Do not close the amada, Hatsu; I must have air to-night. HAT- I thought your lord KATSU The amada must be closed; it may rain. It is almost morning. TAMA I have a headache. I cannot breathe when the amada is tight shut. May she not leave the amada open a little on that side, my lord ? [ was thinking only of your health, Tama. Leave the amada open, Hatsu. HATSU Yes, master. (To Tama) Everything is at tended to, my lady. Good-night, my master and mistress. (She goes out.) TAMA Will you have tea now, Katsu? KAT- Thank you, Tama. (He lights a pipe which stands on a low table at his bedside) The life of a woman is an easy one. Singing songs and being beautiful and living only for love. It is only men who know how evil the world is. 232 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN TAMA We live only to please, Katsu. KATSU My friends tell me that I have a self-willed wife, who reads too many romantic books. But you are always gentle and obedient, Tama. TAMA I hope I have pleased you, my lord. KATSU Your first husband spoiled you. That is why you ran away from him. But I do not spoil you. I demand obedience and modesty in a woman. You do not have children, it is true; but who knows, there may be some spell upon you. TAMA Katsu KATSU All tell me that I should have concubines in my house that I might have a son and heir. But I cannot do it. When the lotus flower blooms in the pool you do not plant weeds. TAMA Thank you, Katsu. (She rises and takes him a cup of tea, which she accidentally drops, breaking the thin cup to pieces) Oh, Katsu, what have I done? May the gods punish me for being so clumsy! I have never dropped a tea cup before in my life. Katsu, forgive me. KATSU Your hand is trembling. What is the matter? TAMA I have something to tell you. THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS KATSU (stretching) I am too ready for sleep. It is late. It will not be long before the bell rings in the temple. TAMA I must tell you, Katsu. Two things happened : I sang a song and shadows came into it, when I willed only the sun. And the string of my samisen snapped. KATSU What do you know of such things? That is the talk of dancing girls. TAMA Sutsumi told me. It means lovers parting. Katsu, we must part to-night at once. Your life is in danger. KATSU Tama, what is this? (Jumps to his feet.) TAMA There is a plot against you. I heard it to-day. They are coming here here to this room they are just waiting for you to sleep so that they can kill you. KATSU My enemies are planning this to-night? Tama, how could you hear this? TAMA Don't ask me. You must run away. You must go at once every minute is precious. We haven't a minute now. I have planned every thing. KATSU I do not know what to believe. How can you 234 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN plan for me? What am I to do? I do not understand all this. TAMA Go; do not stand and talk. Katsu, hurry hurry for your life. Go out along the path under the arbor to the pool. By the gate Sut- sumi waits for you he knows everything he knows the way he can find his way in the dark. Trust yourself into his hands. KATSU How can I let a woman make plans for me and trust myself into a blind man's hands? I will not go ; I will stay and defend myself. TAMA Do not be too proud to let me help you, Katsu. Do as I ask. Even if you stay there are other nights. They will find a way to get in. You cannot always be on guard. Katsu, go ! Every minute you stay makes it so hard for me. KATSU Why for you? TAMA Because I am concerned for your sake. Go go for the honor of your name. KATSU How do I know if this is true ? It may be some lie that has been told to frighten me and make me ridiculous. How can you, a woman, hear of such plots? TAMA I know I know it all. I even know your ene my's name, 235 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS KATSU You know my enemy's name ! TAMA It is Arinori Okubo. KATSU You do know. He has planned to kill me, then. I will stay and fight him. TAMA Katsu, go I beg of you to go. For the honor of our house, for the honor of your name. You cannot fight him; he is a samurai and skilled in the art of the sword. If you are killed there will be another war between the merchants and the samurai. KATSU And if I go TAMA You see you know I speak the truth. It is right. That is why my samisen string snapped to-day. KATSU But you, Tama ! TAMA They will not harm a woman. KATSU Then (Turns toward the shojl left.) TAMA (anxiously) Then KATSU I will go for the sake of peace and the honor of my house. (He opens the amada, left, and stands ready to go.) 236 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN TAMA (going to him) Along the path under the ar bor. Sutsumi waits for you by the gate. Do everything Sutsumi says. (Kneeling) My lord, if I have not always been obedient and gen tle, I beg of you to forgive me. I have been self-willed I have been ambitious and read too much from books about matters which are only for my superiors my lord and his friends. In my blood is the proud strain of the samurai. I have not bowed to my lord as I should have done. KATSU (putting his hand on her head) I forgive you all, Tama. I go unwillingly because you wish it. Protect the honor of my house like a brave daughter of the samurai. (He goes out. Dur ing the following the light of dawn gradually comes through the shoji. Tama goes to the table, right, and writes a letter. She then goes to the chest, right, and gets a white silk kimono, which she puts on over the other kimono. She gets a thick, red belt from the chest, which she takes with her to the bed nearest the left shoji. With this belt she fastens her legs tightly to gether. She has laid the letter before her at the foot of the bed. She lies down on the mat and pulls a thick, silk quilt over her so that only the top of her head is visible. Hatsu en ters. She carries a lantern. She goes, right, and pulls back the amada the entire distance it will go.) 237 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS TAMA Hatsu 1 HATSU (tremulously) Oh, my lady! TAMA Are you ready? HATSU I am so afraid! TAMA Quick! (Hatsu goes falterlngly to the shoji, right, and waves the lantern across it three times slowly. She opens the shoji and three men come in. Arinori rushes to the bed and stabs into the quilt with his sword. Hatsu ut ters a cry of horror.) ARINORI (coming forward) Katsu Mori is no longer my enemy. (As he s'heathes his sword he sees Tama's letter and picks it up) Reads As the shadow to the tree, As the kernal to the fruit, So am I to thee. But the wife heart cannot beat in disobedience ; The red blood of Tama Will wash away the quarrel of lord and lover. TAMA (moaning) Arinori ! ARINORI (rushing to her) Tama ! What is this ? What have I done? Oh, the gods have hated me! My darling ! (He pulls back the quilt and sees her wounded) Tama ! (He lifts her in his arms) My flower I My beautiful moon ! 238 THE STRING OF THE SAMISEN HATSU (coming forward) My lady! My mistress! Tama-san I ARINORI Bring water bring help. Tama, look at me ! It is I, Arinori ! Oh, what is this ? What have you done ? Oh, my little one ! My little silver moon ! Put your arms around me once more ! (As Hatsu bends over thrusting her away) No, it is too late. Nothing can help now. The cruel sword of my ancestors never fails. It has found its mark in the red heart of my be loved. (He lifts Tama gently and puts her back on the mat, and kneels beside her. A clear sound of a bell ringing is heard. Day has come.) HATSU (softly) It is the-dawn bell of Buddha. THE END *39 NOT SMART A FARCE IN ONE ACT BY WILBUR DANIEL STEELE CHARACTERS MILO TATE FANNIE TATE, his Wife MRS. PAINTER MATTIE, the Maid MR. SNOW, Fisherman TIME Late this Summer PLACE A Cape Cod Village NOT SMART SCENE The living room of a typical shore cot tage the rented kind; outer door, rear center; door to kitchen, left; writing desk against wall, right; two or three chairs, cheap stand, etc. Curtain discovers Milo stretched on the couch reading a magazine, and Fannie writing at the desk. Milo closes the magazine slowly, holds it away from him over the edge of the couch and, with an expression of exhausted hopeless ness, lets it fall to the floor. He groans feebly. MILO What's the use? What's the use? FANNIE (turning a face, sympathetic but preoccupied) Something in the magazine, dear? MILO (letting his feet hang over, speaks in a wearied, sing-song voice) The strange woman's face in the throng pale, alluring, baffling with lips like the poppy and that sort of thing. The wind carving her figure as in warm and sentient marble. Ankles and so on. Perfectly inflamed, our hero pursues her, careless of the hereafter, reckless of the eyes of the world. Of a sud den, a vision of his beloved one at home, you know right in the middle of the street flam- 243 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS ing sword sort of thing and and I didn't read any further. I don't need to. I know he'll turn around and go home, Fannie. Home! FANNIE (still busy with her letter) Fancy ! MILO (starting tip with a feverish energy and kicking the magazine across the floor) They're all the same. That's what's the matter with America ! (Relapses on the couch, crosses his arms over his head and goes on speaking to the ceiling in a tone of musing) Thank God er that is the gods nothing like that can ever happen to us. Isn't it fearful to think of one's spirit cooped up between four narrow walls like that? (Fannie nods, without turning her head) Now / would have followed that ankle, wouldn't I ? I would have followed it till it till it turned to ashes in my huh-hum well, you know. And then, when I came back to you enriched, bringing the spoils of a profound experience, Fannie you wouldn't mind ! FANNIE (looking up now) Mind? Why should I mind, Milo? Can a thing of that sort tamper with the essential qualities of our relationship? No, No ! We've learned better than that, you and I. MILO (sitting up again, with waxing enthusiasm) And you! You'll always feel quite free, too? You'll never let the silly little inhibitions FANNIE (energetically) No, no ! 244 NOT SMART MILO Some day there may be a nice chap I'd rather have it a nice chap FANNIE Like Mort, say. MILO (with a slight start) Mort Painter? (Fannie's attention has returned to her letter once more. She folds it, puts it in an envelope and addresses it. Milo, studying her with a light of uneasy speculation, goes on after a moment) I'm afraid it would raise a bit of the devil in the Painter house, Fannie; that's all. You know, Mrs. Painter isn't exactly our kind. (Fannie, still about her business, rises and places the let ter among others on top of the desk. After another moment, Milo breaks out in a tone of obvious relief) But he isn't home, you know. FANNIE (turning suddenly to face him) And why isn't he home? Why is he staying away so long? It's over two months now that he's been away. MILO (at a loss) Why why I don't know. He probably finds the fishing good down there in Maine, or wherever he is. I I hadn't thought. FANNIE / had. Milo, there's something in the wood pile, I tell you. Mrs. Painter is distinctly eva sive. It's all so unnatural. We all came down to this corner of the shore to have a nice, quiet summer. And then, of a sudden, he packs up and is gone over night and no sign of his 245 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS coming back. There's something behind it, * Milo. MILO (rising and pacing the floor petulantly) Pshaw-pshawl There's the woman cropping out. Pshaw ! Why shouldn't he go off fishing and stay as long as he wants to? FANNIE (ignoring the outburst) I've been thinking of nothing for a week but Mort. MILO (stopping short and staring at her) You have! (After an instant of confrontation, he sits down weakly on the couch, mops his brow with his handkerchief, and then recovers himself suffi ciently to resume in a tone tinctured with venom) I must say, Fannie, this rather sudden interest in one of my oldest friends FANNIE You don't mind? MILO Mind? (He has the grace to blush) Oh, m-m-mind? Why, good heavens, Fannie, wh- wh-why should I mind? FANNIE I knew you wouldn't. And, after all, it's his wife I'm concerned about. Poor thing stranded here all alone. MILO (more than ever ashamed of himself, ^mopping his brow vigorously) Whew ! It's darned hot, I say ! I think I'll have a glass of milk, if you'd be so good, Fannie. That's a dear. (As Fan- 246 NOT SMART me crosses to door at left and calls out) Mattiel Mattie! (Voice of -stage) Huh? FANNIE Bring Mr. Tate a glass of milk right away. And how many times have I told you to say "ma'am" when you speak to me? MILO (deprecatingly) Why should she say ma'am? After all, my dear, you know she is FANNIE (turning upon him with some petulance) There are times, Milo, when your theories MILO (quickly) My theories, Frances, are identical with yours; the only point of variance being that / am will- ing to practice them at home. (Rising, he trans- fixes his wife with a didactic forefinger) We all talk so largely of the Brotherhood of Man. And yet here is a young girl, a really splendid sort of a creature in a way, living close to the throbbing heart of Mother Earth. FRANCES (interrupting ^ Close to the throbbing heart of the kitchen range, you'd better say. For all your fine talk, you don't know any more about her than I do, and that's not a blessed thing not one single blessed thing, Milo. For all we know, she may be oh, for heaven's sake, Milo, stop looking that way ! MILO (resuming with a heavy, ironical patience) Living close to the throbbing heart of Mother Earth, feeling the life-pulse of the Cosmos 247 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS well damn it all she's precisely the kind of thing we write about and talk and make ges- tures about, the lot of us you know. Only she is it. She lives it. She's got something we've lost. Sometimes, you know, my dear, I almost feel I do feel in a way FANNIE (coolly) Yes? MILO A strange spiritual bond with that creature something drawing me irresistibly like the pull of green things and the damp earth weird almost ah Pliocene ugh by the way, you don't mind? FANNIE (with difficulty) Mind? MILO (chin in hand) In a way, you know, she's got something or other that we (Enter Mat- tie , carrying a glass of milk on a server.) MILO Ah! (With an unwonted energy he moves a small stand beside the couch, half reclines, and waves Mattie to deposit the glass on the stand. As she does so he gently captures her hand in his. She endeavors to recover it, profoundly embarrassed, casts a frightened glance at the . mistress, then, evidently deciding in her numb and docile brain that this is the accepted thing, remains inert, staring ponderously at her boot- toes. Milo resumes in a tone of dreaming) I wonder if you've ever thought much about your- self, Mattie? You wouldn't, though. You 248 NOT SMART wouldn't that's just the matter with us. No, of course you wouldn't (Turning to Fannie) She wouldn't, would she? (Turning back) We've been wondering if you knew how won- derful you are, Mattie ? Because you are won- derful. You're out of your age. In a world staggering under a Freud, a Trotsky, a Mar- coni, the Republic of China, and the Imagist Poets you've managed somehow to slip back to the great, all-brooding fundamentals Food Shelter Procreation FANNIE Milo! MILO (impatiently, to Fannie) That, I believe, is the order in which they come. (Lights cigarette) Or perhaps I'm wrong. Of course, my dear, if you want to get into philosophies and meta- physics I grant you the old argument does the hen come first and the egg second, or the egg first and the hen FANNIE Milo! That is a young girl! (Exit Mattie.) MILO (with an air of hopelessness, shaking his head slowly) Frances, Frances, are we to be always like that? Always slipping back into the old fog-bound superstitions of the mid-Victorian home? FANNIE Oh, be quiet, please. It isn't that ! You ought to know me well enough by this time. But but she wouldn't understand. If she could un- 249 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS derstand if it would do her any good en- large her life in the least, Milo MILO Understand? Of course she doesn't under- stand. Do we want her to understand, my dear firl? Enlarge her life? Look, here, my dear, 'm serious. That girl has got something or other that neither you nor I or any of us in the the group could come to in a thousand years of self-centered and spiritual crucifixion She has got FANNIE (ironically) Exactly what? (Rising.) MILO (inexpressibly shocked at the Philistine ques- tion) Why, Fannie! Why why, she has got she's got see here, Frances, you know what I mean as well as I do. For heaven's sake, after two years of our talks our trying to find the the in our little group, you know Look here, Fannie, you've talked as primitive as anyone. And now you stand there and ask (Glancing out of the window, he speaks with an air of relief at the diversion) Oh, here comes Mrs. Painter up the steps. FANNIE (in confusion, extending the half-smoked cig- arette) Oh, quick! Take this! (Milo starts to take it, furtively; then, as if bethinking him- self, draws back and confronts her with a grim disapprobation.) MILO Fannie! 250 NOT SMART FANNIE You idiot! (A knock is heard at the door. Fannie , wasting no time in further argument, skips about in desperate search for a place to hide the incriminating object.) MILO (even more sternly) Frances! Are we to be always that that kind? (Fannie faces him defiantly ; then, shamed by his superior sense of honor, puts the cigarette between her lips and puffs conscientiously. Knocking resumes) Come in! (Enter Mrs. Painter.) MRS. PAINTER (with a moderate effusiveness to Milo) Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Tate. I was just coming up from the beach, you know, and I thought I'd (Catching sight of Fannie in a cloud of smoke, she gasps, stares desperately at the floor, the ceiling, the desk; then sinks down in a chair) drop in I MILO (suavely) Terribly glad. When's Mort coming home? MRS. PAINTER (ill at ease) I I he hasn't decided. (In haste to change the subject) Hasn't it been a glorious (Suf- fers another shock as her eyes, turning, come to the pillar of smoke, and relapses.) FANNIE (hastily coughing as she inhales by accident) Per-perfectly glorious, really. Yes, yes When's Mort coming home? MRS. PAINTER I I he hasn't 1 (Looks from one to the 251 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS other with a sudden suspicion; then rises majes- tically and confronts Fannie with an icy accusa- tion) Mrs. Tate, your husband asked me that question ten seconds ago, and, if I am not mis- taken, you heard me answer him. (Bursting into tears and stamping her feet) Oh, oh, oh ! I won't stand it ! Oh, you're so mean always pecking at me MILO (aghast) Pecking? FANNIE (the same) Pecking at you? MRS. PAINTER Yes, pecking at me ! (She sinks down in the chair, and, burying her face in her hands, gives way to uncontrollable grief. The others ex- change inquiring glances, shrug their shoulders, and sign with the helpless bewilderment of the falsely accused. By and by Mrs. Painter begins to speak, her cheeks pressed in her palms, eyes fixed on vacancy) I suppose you might as well know. You'll have to, some time. Mort is never coming: back ! FANNIE What! MILO Old Mort? Good old Mort? For heaven's sake, why not? MRS. PAINTER You remember the maid we engaged down here the first of the summer Abbie Small? Well, she got in trouble. Oh yes, Mort denied it and denied it and denied it. He would, of 252 NOT SMART course. We got her out of the way immedi- ately; sent her up to the Rescued Magdalene's Home in the city. We couldn't do less. I know the place ; it's good and clean and wholesome not at all like an institution. They have their amusements and things. And and (She suffers a momentary relapse into tears. Mllo begins to pace the floor, wrapped in thought. She resumes gravely) And Mort, when he found at last that the wool would not be pulled over my eyes, packed up his things and went away. . . . Perhaps it is best. MILO (wheeling on her) Best! You can say Best? My God! (Noting her look of alarm, in a gentler tone) You must forgive me, Mrs. Painter. (Sitting down on the end of the couch, he goes on with the persuasive sweetness of the evangelist) You say it is best, by your lights. And by my lights, I say it is worse. Worse, because it seems to me you are missing the fundamental significance of life; that you are deliberately shutting the door on life ; that you are throwing away an experience ! You three ! Think of it ! How wonderful a thing ! Passing together, hand in hand, through the unfolding hours of a miracle ! You three ! MRS. PAINTER (recovering the faculty of speech at last) Are you crazy? (Appealing to Fannie) Is is the man insane? FANNIE (with a smile, half sad, half lifted) No, Mrs. x 253 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS Painter. It seems to me he is precisely sane. We have been thinking about it a good deal Milo and I, and we MRS. PAINTER (rising) Mrs. Tate ! I can't say how deeply I am I Really, I think I'd better be going. (She moves away majestically toward the door.) FANNIE (intercepting her) Now-now ! Don't take on so, my dear. Pshaw! You musn't go off in a huff like this must she, Milo? See here; sit down and we'll have a cup of tea. . . . (Call- ing) Mattie! Mattie! MILO Yes, yes do please sit down. (Calling) Mat- tie! Mattie! (Aside) Where is that girl? (To- others) Wait a second; I'll go hurry her up. (Exit.) MRS. PAINTER (sobbing gently into her handkerchief) But my dear, my dear. You couldn't talk that way either of you if you had been through it yourselves if you know if you knew the tor- ment of that day when the girl came to me and told me she wasn't smart. FANNIE (quizically) Not smart? MRS. PAINTER Yes. That's the way they put it down here when they are : expecting. FANNIE How quaint! Not smart. Fancy. (Enter 254 NOT SMART Milo) Oh, Milo, my dear, Mrs. Painter has just been telling me the quaintest thing. MRS. PAINTER (drawing up and recovering her dignity) It is a thing I should rather not discuss in in mixed company. Especially with Mr. Tate. MILO Oh, come now, Mrs. Painter. Don't let's quar- rel over over abstractions. See here, we'll have some tea and we'll all feel better. . . . Where's that girl? (Enter Mattie, a dish in one hand, dish-towel in the other. She stands staring gloomily at her boots.) MATTIE Yeh? FANNIE (suggestively) Ma'am? MATTIE Mom. FANNIE That's better. Now, will you bring the tea things quickly ! MATTIE Yeh mom ! (She remains standing there, however.) FANNIE (sharply) Well? (Mattie does not answer. Her lower lip sags; her knees bend a little, and the dish, escaping her nerveless fingers, crashes on the floor.) FANNIE Good heavens ! What is the matter with you ? Speak ! 255 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MATTIE (dully, staring at the floor) I ain't sma't. MRS. PAINTER (avidly) Not smart? FANNIE (weakly, tottering a little and putting her hand to her throat) Not smart? MILO (protesting expansively) Not smart? Dear creature! Oh, you wonderful, simple, primi- tive creature! Smartness! Pah! (Turning on the others savagely) Don't sit there looking at me so aghast as if I were uttering here- sies. Smart? We are smart you and you and I. And look at us. (Turning back to Mattie) No, no, my dear girl. You are not smart, and heaven send you may never come to be smart you, hiding in your soul something a thousand times more precious than smartness, an element of wisdom FANNIE Milo! MRS. PAINTER (almost screaming) It isn't that, you fool ! It isn't that she means by "not smart." Don't you know what it means down here? Why it means that one is in a delicate MILO Delicate? You say "delicate!" And I say, don't talk to me of delicacy! No, no; look at me as hard as you want to; there's something more priceless in the world than delicacy! We're immersed in it. Yes, I'll say it im- 256 NOT SMART mersed all the vile little soul-stifling inhibi- tions of soap and tooth-brush, Chinese potteries. I see that I shock you. Well, I am willing to shock you you, Mrs. Painter, and you, my dear Frances. But I tell you that if this girl here this splendid, deep-bosomed, ox-eyed earth-woman, is not delicate, then as for me MRS. PAINTER (desperately) I didn't say "not delicate!" I said in a deli- cate MILO (putting his hand to his brow with a sudden new suspicion of light very weakly) In a delicate what? MRS. PAINTER CONDITION! MILO (sitting down abruptly on the couch and staring into vacancy after a pause in a wondering whisper) Condition ? (Tableau Mat- tie staring at her boots; the two women staring at Milo; Milo staring at nothing. By and by he turns his head, and starts violently as he meets the accusing eyes) What are you look- ing at me for? (Seized by a sudden panic, he shakes wild hands at them) Stop looking at, me ! Stop it, I say ! Stop looking at me ! Stop stop stop! The idea! FANNIE Milo! Oh Milo Milo! MRS. PAINTER (with a stately sweep to the door) I am afraid 257 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS I shall have to say Good evening! (Exit in a blaze of glory.) FANNIE (with great difficulty to Mattie) You may leave the room. (Exit Mattie, her eyes still on the floor. Milo gazes after her, blank and helpless. As the door closes, Fannie sinks on her knees beside the desk, and hiding her face in her hands, shakes with the tumult of her woe, sobbing a muffled "Milo, Milo" from time to time. Milo paces back and forth rapidly.) MILO Frances ! Ten minutes ago I would have called the man a liar who told me that you, my wife, had such a low suspicious mind. Do you hear me? Good God, Fannie! (Receiving no reply, he subsides on the couch and mops his face. After a moment he resumes in a harassed soliloquy) The world is full of low minds, I suppose eternally ready to suspect the worst licking their lickerish lips for a chance at a man's good name. Pah! (He^groans) . . . Of course, the girl must be gotten away from here immediately. Fannie! (Still hearing no answer, he jumps up and moves toward her) See here ! Pull yourself together. There are arrangements to make. This poor creature can't be left here to face the sneers of these damned, narrow-souled provincials. She is, in a sense, a a dependent of ours. It seems to me we can't do less than to send her away to some place where she will be looked after cared for, understood in the city Fanny, will 258 NOT SMART you listen to me? (Grasping her shoulder, not too gently, he tries to uncover her face. She un- covers it herself.) FANNIE (with a suppressed fury) Please don't touch me! MILO (snapping) Stop it ! Stop it, I say ! FANNIE Don't touch me ! MILO (retreating weakly) But but I keep telling you FANNIE Please don't keep telling me anything. I can't comprehend anything now. My brain won't work. I think I I am going crazy. (She shivers.) MILO (desperately) But I tell you i t w a s n ' t M E ! FANNIE (her shoulders dropping hopelessly) Denials ! Denials ! I think I might have been spared this. MILO But it WASN'T, you know ! FANNIE (drearily) If you must make a brute of yourself, you might have been a gazelle not a jackal. (Milo stares at her a moment, fascinated; then takes a dazed turn about the room. Somewhere in the circuit he discovers a little spirit of his own.) MILO But if it had been, Fannie 259 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS FANNIE (in a sarcastic echo) If it had been- MILO You wouldn't mind, would you ? FANNIE (shrinking back a step, as before an unfair blow) M-m-mind ? (And then with a terrible gaiety) Mind? I? Ha-ha-ha-ha MILO (relieved) Ah, that's better. That's more like my girl. I knew you wouldn't even if it if it had been. FANNIE Ha-ha-ha-ha MILO That's right. And now let's think. Have we got a time-table in the house, with connections ? And, oh yes, about that address! The what- you-may-call-it Magdalenes' Home. We must get it from Mrs. Painter. The girl mustn't stay here a moment more than is absolutely necessary. FANNIE (sitting down) What are you talking about? MILO That place in the city. Mrs. Painter thinks well of it. FANNIE What has that got to do with it? MILO (blankly) Why why FANNIE Of course, the young woman is to remain with us. 260 NOT SMART MILO WHAT ! FANNIE (blandly) Naturally. Why, Milo, how queer you talk! We you and I are not going to miss the fundamental significance of life, are we? We're not deliberately going to shut the door on life ? We three? This wonderful thing? MILO (terribly) I must say, my dear girl, this is a poor time for facetiousness. FANNIE (untouched) We three! Passing together, hand in hand, through the unfolding hours of a miracle MILO (ponderously) Frances, you are very unkind. You will never understand me. FANNIE Understand you? MILO Not in the deeper sense. You are a woman, after all. You still cling pathetically to the grammar-school notion that two and two makes four. FANNIE (unmoved) Ah! And that theories are to be put in prac- tice at home? MILO (haggardly) Theories! My God! Theories! Ideals! Dreams ! Ah, if one could but afford to dream ! (With a heavy wistfulness) But that is for the angels, 'and the young. Happy youth, un- encumbered, foot-free 261 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS FANNIE All of which is to say MILO Hang take it all. My affairs are in a delicate condition (Flinches at the word) er it's a confounded precarious period in my career, my dear girl. Another year, who knows, and I may arrive if nothing happens. After all, we owe a little something to my career. FANNIE Ah! Your career! MILO And to our own folks yours and mine. And and and to your good name. FANNIE Quite so my good name. You are beginning to think even of that. MILO (in desperation) But I keep telling you (A loud knock is heard at the outer door. Milo, stepping to the window, cranes out, then, with a look of consternation, runs and sets his back against the door) It's that Painter woman. What are we going to do? FANNIE Do? What should we do, when everything is so sweet and natural? MILO Fannie, are you insane? FANNIE No, I am precisely sane. (Another knock) Let her in, please. 262 NOT SMART MILO (in a pleading whisper) Fannie ! Fannie I (A louder knock.) FANNIE (calling) Come in! (The door opens after a brief strug- gle; Milo accepts sanctuary in its l%e, still vis- ible to the audience, but screened from Mrs. Painter, who enters, and after a suspicious glance at the panels, plops down in a chair and folds her hands.) MRS. PAINTER Well, here I am. I started to go home, and then I just couldn't. When there's anyone in trouble when there's a chance of anyone's needing help well, that's the way I am, Mrs. Tate. I said to myself: now, if there's any- thing I can do any arrangements I can help them make to get that wretched girl out of the way before the town is by the ears. Poor Mr. Tate, I said to myself when all these rough fishermen learn the news Oh my dear Mrs. Tate, you don't know them ! They're ig- norant and uncouth, and you wouldn't think they had a spark of sentiment or honor in them ; but when anyone gets one of their women-folks in trouble especially an outsider, like Mr. Tate well, I said to myself, weak as I am, if there's to be any harm done any violence MILO (who has been visibly wilting behind the door, bursts forth with an attempt at bravado) Harm? Violence? What do you mean? See here ! Do you imagine for one instant that any 263 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS man fisherman or no fisherman can come around here bulldozing me a perfectly inno- cent bystander? Have I no protection under the Constitution of this country? / think I have. (Turning on his heel with a hollow majesty, he paces away from them falters speaks in a weaker voice) But I'm forgetting that poor tragic creature. She can't be left here to face the sneering rabble. (Turning to the others, he speaks in the curt, incisive accents of a man-of-action, a trifle overdone) I'll get a rig. I'll drive her over to the junction my- self. I'll take her up to the city myself. I'll make arrangements at the at the Mrs. Painter, where was that place ? MRS. PAINTER (in attitude of deep concentration) Let me think. Let me think. MILO (wildly) For heaven's sake, don't you remember? MRS. PAINTER Let me think, I tell you. Please, please, don't keep hopping about that way or I'll never re- member. Let me think was it Ninety-third Street or was it Thirty-ninth Street or was it Ninety-three some other street or Thirty- nine MILO But my dear woman! FANNIE (who has been watching them with an icy scorn tapping the floor with one foot, but other- wise calm) I think you are both of you mak- 264 NOT SMART ing rather rather a spectacle of yourselves. You seem to overlook the fact that all this fuss and flurry is quite unnecessary quite ! MILO Unnecessary ! (Dragging out his watch) Good Lord, woman, look at the time ! MRS. PAINTER And this was such a good place not at all like an institution. They have their amusements and things. If a girl has to go away FANNIE If she has to go away quite so. I agree with you. But you must remember that this is quite another case, for the girl is not going away. She is remaining here quietly with us. MILO (going desperately to pieces) Frances, I swear by by I swear if you don't drop that pose and come to your senses MRS. PAINTER (with an air of one remembering a sudden calmness a cool, Cheshire smile) Why of course! (To Fannie) Why, my dear, of course! (To Milo) Oh, Mr. Tate, how stupid of me knowing your principles ! I was in the ex- citement and the ah danger of the moment I was just being hopelessly middle-class. Why, of course! MILO (eyeing them with an elemental ferocity) All right ! All right ! Seeing that I can no ordinary human assistance from eith< you, I / wash my hands of you! Only please 265 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS keep out of my way ! (Becoming ecstatically busy dragging a hand-bag from under the couch hopping about and stuffing into it the most absurd and unrelated objects draperies, match-safe, etc.) Please, I say, keep out of my way. (Looks at watch) Mattie! Mattie! Where is that girl? Good Lord, she'll have no time to pack her things. And and they might be here any minute ! FANNIE Who might be here? MILO Please don't speak to me. (Calling) Mattie 1 For God's sake, girl, are you deaf? Mattie! (Enter Mattie.) MATTIE (toward Fannie) Yeh mom? MILO Not her me! Mattie, see here, hurry! Don't keep standing there like a chump. Get your things together just what you need. Throw them together, girl! MATTIE (bewildered) (glancing uneasily at Fannie) Huh mom? FANNIE You mustn't take any notice of him, Mattie. He's MILO Frances, oblige me by keeping quiet. (To Mat- tie) Now hurry! You're going away. I'm going to take you to the city. We'll drive to />r of on, understand? Junction! Drive! 266 NOT SMART City! Good God, what a bone-head! Going to city I Get that? It's a nice place not at all like an institutionsthey have their amuse- ments and things. . . . City! Understand? MATTIE (still to Fannie) Huh mom? FANNIE I told you not to pay any attention to him. He's not quite himself. Of course you're not going to the city at all. You're going to remain right here with us right here in the house with us we three very quietly until until MRS. PAINTER Until your your you know FANNIE Is is you know MRS. PAINTER Born. MILO Damn it, she can't! I say she can't. (To Mat- tie) Tell them you can't! MATTIE No mom. I can't. My my old man wouldn't like it, mom. FANNIE Your father wouldn't like it? MATTIE No mom. That's right; none of 'em wouldn't like it, mom. MILO (aghast) Do they Good God they don't know, do they? 267 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS MATTIE (sheepishly, eyes on floor) Yep mom. I told 'em to-day. An' my old man MILO Not another word. For heaven's sake, don't stand there wasting time ! Go ! Get a hat on ! What the devil did you have to tell them for? They might be here any minute now the whole pack of them. Hush! My God, what's that? (Grasps Mattie fiercely by shoulder and con- fronts her accusingly) GIRL! MATTIE I I guess mebby that's my old man. MILO (groans) (then straightens up and looks about him. Steps hastily to window and peeps out) No one on this side yet. MATTIE (to Fannie) Should I leave 'im in, mom? MILO (darting toward her and grasping her roughly by the wrist) You fool ! Come ! We'll make a run for it the front way. Come along, I say ! (Starts to drag her by main force toward the front door. Mattie, aroused from her native coma by his violence and the savage expression on his face, struggles frantically, appealing to Fannie.) MATTIE Oh, no, mom no, mom no, mom (As Milo, dragging her, puts out his hand to open the front door, terror overcomes her and she begins to shriek incoherently. From of -stage 268 NOT SMART kitchen-way comes the sound of a door broken in and deep masculine rumblings. Enter Mr. Snow, a Fisherman, disheveled, wild-eyed, car- rying a trawl-tub and armed with a gaf. At sight of tableau by door he draws up in the dramatic attitude of a tiger about to spring.) SNOW Leave be with your hands there ! MILO (letting Mattie go and sinking back against the wall, staring with an appealing fascination at the intrduer weakly) It wasn't me I swear I give you my word it wasn't me. SNOW Wasn't you? You stand there and tell me it wasn't you ? And me seeing you with my very eyes? Wasn't you, eh? Mattie, come here! (Mattie runs and takes exhausted shelter be- side him.) MILO (chattering) It wasn't me. It wasn't it wasn't. Honestly, Mr. Mr. SNOW Stow it. I seen you ; so stow it before I heave this tub at your head. I don't care who you are ; I know what you done ; I seen you doing it, and I'm going to give you a lesson to chaw on I'll be dumned if I ain't. (Advances men- acingly.) MILO (screeching) I didn't ! Don't you touch an innocent man. It was someone else did it I swear by my honor. Somebody else did it ! 269 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS SNOW (showing first signs of puzzlement) Somebody else done what? MILO IT! SNOW It what? MRS. PAINTER He means got her in in trouble. SNOW In trouble! Her? HIM? SAY ! FANNIE (breathlessly plucking at her skirts) You didn't know? MRS. PAINTER That your daughter was SNOW My daughter? FANNIE But she said you were MRS. PAINTER You were her old man. SNOW Old man? Of course I'm her old man. And she's my old woman. FANNIE Do you mean she is your MRS. PAINTER Your your MILO (uncovering, dazed transfigured eyes) Wife? 270 NOT SMART SNOW Well, for Gripe's sake now what did you think? MILO (tottering to couch and sinking down) We we simply didn't think. FANNIE We didn't know she was MRS. PAINTER Married. FANNIE We all want to beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Mr. MILO (weakly mopping his brow) Ten thousand! Ten thousand ! SNOW Well, I don't know. Don't seem to understand. But I just come up here to tell you I thought best the woman should quit work now. She ain't smart, you know MILO Yes, yes; that's all right. We understand, old chap. Yes, indeed. Good good-bye. SNOW Good-day to you all. . . . Tell 'em good- day, Mattie, girl. MATTIE Good-day to you mom. (Exeunt somehow or other. For a time deep silence reigns. Milo, relapsed on the couch, veils his face with a hand- kerchief. Mrs. Painter sits down in a chair 271 THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS very quietly, takes her cheeks between her hands, and stares at nothing. After a moment Milo summons strength to arise and stand mid- stage in an attitude convenient for his wife to cast her arms about him.) FANNIE Milo! Milo! I've been such a mean, shallow little ninny. Oh, I can never, never, never for- give myself. MRS. PAINTER (to vacancy) I wonder I wonder FANNIE Milo, Milo darling, look at me. I'll never doubt you again as long as I live. MRS. PAINTER I remember now; it was 39 East Ninety [CURTAIN] 272 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ This book is due on the last DATE stamped below. NOV 27 77 ,.: l5^ 7Rttr FEB23 ! 80 MAR 2 5 1980 REC'D MAY 5 '82 MAY 61982 MAR 3 1984 OCT 27 '87 N Om-12,'70(P1251s8)2373-3A,l DEC151987REC'D P75 Toe 00205 Ill