Plays of Near & Far by Lord Dunsany (top novels to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Lord Dunsany
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Antoninus: Never! My scourge is for such.
[Satan sighs. The girls laugh from the hill. Antoninus hears the laughter.
A look of fear comes over him.
Antoninus: Which ... (a little peal of girlish laughter off). Which cherry tree did you speak of?
Satan: This one over the window.
Antoninus (with an effort): It shall be held accursed. I will warn the brethren. It shall be cut down and hewn asunder and they shall burn it utterly.
Satan (rather sorrowfully): Ah, Antoninus.
Antoninus: You shall not tempt a monk of our blessed order.
Satan: They are coming this way, Antoninus.
Antoninus: What! What!
Satan: Have your scourge ready, Antoninus.
Antoninus: Perhaps, perhaps they have not merited extreme chastisement.
Satan: They have made a garland of may, a long white garland drooped from their little hands. Ah, if you were young, Antoninus.
Antoninus: Tempt me not, Satan. I say, tempt me not!
[The girls sing, Satan smiles, the girls sing on. Antoninus tip-toes to seat, back to window, and sits listening. The girls sing on. They pass the window and shake the branch of a cherry tree. The petals fall in sheets past the window. The girls sing on and Antoninus sits listening.
Antoninus (hand to forehead): My head aches. I think it is that song.... Perhaps, perhaps it is the halo. Too heavy, too heavy for us.
[Satan walks gently up and removes it and walks away with the gold disc. Antoninus sits silent.
Satan: When the moon is waning.
[Exit. More petals fall past the window. The song rings on. Antoninus sits quite still, on his face a new ecstacy.
CURTAIN. IF SHAKESPEARE LIVED TO-DAY DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Sir Webley Woothery-JurnipMr. Neeks }
} Members of the Olympus.
Jergins, an old waiter.
Mr. Trundleben, Secretary of the Club.
Mr. Gleek, Editor of the "Banner and Evening Gazette" and member of the Olympus.
SceneA room in the Olympus Club.
Time: After luncheon.
Sir Webley Woothery-Jurnip and Mr. Neeks sit by a small table. Further away sits Mr. Gleek, the Editor of the "Banner and Evening Gazette." Sir Webley Jurnip rises and rings the bell by the fire-place. He returns to his seat.
Mr. Neeks: I see there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare putting up for the Club.
Sir Webley: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Shakespeare? I once knew a man called Shaker.
Neeks: No, it's Shakespeare—Mr. William Shakespeare.
Sir Webley: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Do you know anything about him?
Neeks: Well, I don't exactly recall—I made sure that you——
Sir Webley: The Secretary ought to be more careful. Waiter!
Jergins: Yes, Sir Webley. [He comes.
Sir Webley: Coffee, Jergins. Same as usual.
Jergins: Yes, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: And, Jergins—there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare putting up for the Club.
Jergins: I'm sorry to hear that, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: Yes, Jergins. Well, there it is, you see; and I want you to go up and ask Mr. Trundleben if he'd come down.
Jergins: Certainly, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: And then get my coffee.
Jergins: Yes, Sir Webley.
[He goes slowly away.
Neeks: He'll be able to tell us all about him.
Sir Webley: At the same time he should be more careful.
Neeks: I'm afraid—I'm afraid he's getting rather, rather old.
Sir Webley: Oh, I don't know, he was seventy only the other day. I don't call that too old—nowadays. He can't be now, he can't be more than, let me see, seventy-eight. Where does this Mr. Shaker live?
Neeks: Shakespeare. Somewhere down in Warwickshire. A village called Bradford, I think, is the address he gives in the Candidates' Book.
Sir Webley: Warwickshire! I do seem to remember something about him now. If he's the same man I certainly do. William Shakespeare, you said.
Neeks: Yes, that's the name.
Sir Webley: Well, I certainly have heard about him now you mention it.
Neeks: Really! And what does he do?
Sir Webley: Do? Well, from what I heard he poaches.
Neeks: Poaches!
Sir Webley: Yes, a poacher. Trundleben deserves to get the sack for this. A poacher from the wilds of Warwickshire. I heard all about him. He got after the deer at Charlecote.
Neeks: A poacher!
Sir Webley: That's all he is, a poacher. A member of the Olympus! He'll be dropping in here one fine day with other people's rabbits in his pockets.
[Enter Jergins.
Jergins: Your coffee, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: My coffee. I should think so. (He sips it.) One needs it.
Jergins: Mr. Trundleben will be down at once, Sir Webley. I telephoned up to him.
Sir Webley: Telephoned! Telephoned! The Club's getting more full of new-fangled devices every day. I remember the time when—— Thank you, Jergins.
[Jergins retires.
This is a pretty state of things, Neeks.
Neeks: A pretty state of things indeed, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: Ah, here's Trundleben.
Neeks: He'll tell us all about it, Sir Webley. I'm sure he'll——
Sir Webley: Ah, Trundleben. Come and sit down here. Come and——
Trundleben: Thank you, Sir Webley. I think I will. I don't walk quite as well as I used, and what with——
Sir Webley: What's all this we hear about this Mr. Shakespeare, Trundleben?
Trundleben: Oh, ah, well yes, yes indeed. Well, you see, Sir Webley, he was put up for the Club. Mr. Henry put him up.
Sir Webley (disapprovingly): Oh, Mr. Henry.
Neeks: Yes, yes, yes. Long hair and all that.
Sir Webley: I'm afraid so.
Neeks: Writes poetry, I believe.
Sir Webley: I'm afraid so.
Trundleben: Well then, what does Mr. Newton do but go and second him, and there you are, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: Yes, a pretty state of things. Has he ... Does he ... What is he?
Trundleben: He seems to write, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: Oh, he does, does he? What does he write?
Trundleben: Well, I wrote and asked him that, Sir Webley, and he said plays.
Sir Webley: Plays? Plays? Plays? I'm sure I never heard ... What plays?
Trundleben: I asked him that, Sir Webley, and he said ... he sent me a list (fumbling). Ah, here it is.
[He holds it high, far from his face, tilts his head back and looks down his nose through his glasses.
He says—let me see—"Hamelt," or "Hamlet," I don't know how he pronounces it. "Hamelt, Hamlet"; he spells it "H-a-m-l-e-t." If you pronounce it the way one pronounces handle, it would be "Hamelt," but if——
Sir Webley: What's it all about?
Trundleben: Well, I gathered the scene was in Denmark.
Neeks: Denmark! H'm! another of those neutrals!
Sir Webley: Well, I wouldn't so much mind where the scene of the play was put, if only it was a play one ever had heard of.
Neeks: But those men who have much to do with neutrals are rather the men—don't you think, Sir Webley?—who ...
Sir Webley: Who want watching. I believe you're right, Neeks. And that type of unsuccessful play-wright is just the kind of man I always rather ...
Neeks: That's rather what I feel, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: It wouldn't be a bad plan if we told somebody about him.
Neeks: I think I know just the man, Sir Webley. I'll just drop him a line.
Sir Webley: Yes, and if he's all right there's no harm done, but I always suspect that kind of fellow. Well, what else, Trundleben? This is getting interesting.
Trundleben: Well, Sir Webley, it's really very funny, but he sent me a list of the characters in this play of his, "Hamelt," and, and it's really rather delicious——
Neeks: Yes?
Sir Webley: Yes? What is it?
Trundleben: He's got a ghost in his play. (He-he-he-he-he) A ghost! He really has.
Sir Webley: What! Not on the stage?
Trundleben: Yes, on the stage!
Neeks: Well, well, well.
Sir Webley: But that's absurd.
Trundleben: I met Mr. Vass the other day—it was his four hundredth presentation of "The Nighty"—and I told him about it. He said that bringing a ghost on the stage was, of course—er—ludicrous.
Sir Webley: What else does he say he's done?
Trundleben: Er—er—there's an absurdly long list—er—"Macbeth."
Sir Webley: "Macbeth." That's Irish.
Neeks: Ah, yes. Abbey Theatre style of thing.
Trundleben: I think I heard he offered it them. But of course——
Sir Webley: No, quite so.
Trundleben: I gathered it was all rather a—rather a sordid story.
Sir Webley (solemnly): Ah!
[Neeks5 with equal solemnity wags his head.
Trundleben (focussing his list again): Here's a very funny one. This is funnier than "Hamlet." "The Tempest." And the stage directions are "The sea, with a ship."
Sir Webley (laughs): Oh, that's lovely! That's really too good. The sea with a ship! And what's it all about?
Trundleben: Well, I rather gathered that it was about a magician, and he—he makes a storm.
Sir Webley: He makes a storm. Splendid! On the stage, I suppose.
Trundleben: Oh yes, on the stage.
[Sir Webley and Neeks6 laugh heartily.
Neeks: He'd ... He'd have to be a magician for that, wouldn't he?
Sir Webley: Ha, ha! Very good! He'd have to be a magician to do that, Trundleben.
Trundleben: Yes, indeed, Sir Webley; indeed he would, Mr. Neeks.
Sir Webley: But that stage direction is priceless. I'd really like to copy that down if you'd let me. What is it? "The sea with a ship"? It's the funniest bit of the lot.
Trundleben: Yes, that's it, Sir Webley. Wait a moment, I have it here. The—the whole thing is "the sea with a ship, afterwards an island." Very funny indeed.
Sir Webley: "Afterwards an island"! That's very good, too. "Afterwards an island." I'll put that down also. (He writes.) And what else, Trundleben? What else?
[Trundleben holds out his list again.
Trundleben: "The Tragedy of—of King Richard the—the Second."
Sir Webley: But was his life a tragedy? Was it a tragedy, Neeks?
Neeks: I—I—well I'm not quite sure; I really don't think so. But I'll look it up.
Sir Webley: Yes, we can look it up.
Trundleben: I think it was rather—perhaps rather tragic, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: Oh, I don't say it wasn't. No doubt. No doubt at all. That's one thing. But to call his whole life a tragedy is—is quite another. What, Neeks?
Neeks: Oh, quite another.
Trundleben: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley. Tragedy is—er—is a very strong term indeed, to—to apply to such a case.
Sir Webley: He was probably out poaching when he should have been learning his history.
Trundleben: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
Sir Webley: And what else, eh? Anything more?
Trundleben: Well, there are some poems, he says.
[Holds up a list.
Sir Webley: And what are they about?
Trundleben: Well, there's one called ... Oh. I'd really rather not mention that one; perhaps that had better be left out altogether.
Neeks: Not...?
Sir Webley: Not quite...?
Trundleben: No, not at all.
Sir Webley and Neeks: H'm.
Trundleben: Left out altogether. And then there are "Sonnets," and—and "Venus and Adonis," and—and "The Phœnix and the Turtle."
Sir Webley: The Phœnix and the what?
Trundleben: The Turtle.
Sir Webley: Oh. Go on ...
Trundleben: One called "The Passionate Pilgrim," another "A Lover's Complaint."
Sir Webley: I think the whole thing's very regrettable.
Neeks: I think so too, Sir Webley.
Trundleben (mournfully): And there've been no poets since poor Browning died, none at all. It's absurd for him to call himself a poet.
Neeks: Quite so, Trundleben, quite so.
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