one act · drama
It's time something happened
Royalty-free Public domain — free to read, perform, and adapt. No licence needed.
Characters
| She-Angle | lead | 145 speeches |
| He-Angle | lead | 122 speeches |
| Actress | supporting | 39 speeches |
| Playwright | supporting | 33 speeches |
| Poet | supporting | 32 speeches |
| Author | supporting | 21 speeches |
| Husband-Angle | minor | 3 speeches |
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APPLETON SHORT PLAYS No. 4
IT’S TIME SOMETHING HAPPENED
IT’S TIME SOMETHING HAPPENED
BY
ARTHUR DOYLE
[Illustration]
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK ¤ LONDON ¤ MCMXXV
COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_All Rights Reserved_
This play is 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 permission of the publisher, D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 35 West 32nd Street, New York, or D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 25 Bedford Street, Covent Garden, London, England.
Copyright, 1924, by Arthur Doyle
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
IT’S TIME SOMETHING HAPPENED
CAST
THE PROLOGUE THE SHE-ANGLE THE HE-ANGLE THE PLAYWRIGHT THE POET THE NOVELIST THE ACTRESS THE HUSBAND, _another He-Angle_
(_The_ PROLOGUE _steps before the curtain. He is dressed in tights, etc., and carries a trumpet._)
PROLOGUE
Do you know who I am? Yes, I’m the Prologue. I’m not really the Prologue: I am really the Exposition. But they put tights on me and gave me this (_indicating the trumpet_) and called me the Prologue. I can’t play a trumpet, but it goes well with my tights and looks good, and besides it’s something to lean on while I’m standing over there. Yes, I stand there during the whole play. It’s that kind of play.
There, I’ve told you! Yes, you’re going to see a play of a sort. Maybe it won’t be much of a play. That will depend on how much of a help you are. I suppose I’ve got to explain. That is part of my duties as the Exposition.
You see last night a young man (he must have been a very young man) dreamed a dream. I don’t mean that you can dream anything but a dream, but it is better to say “dreamed a dream” than to say simply, “he dreamed.” Now, this young man dreamed about triangles--not the kind he ought to have dreamed about as a student of higher mathematics and a very young man--but the other kind. He must have been pretty much of a playgoer, this young man.
As I say, he dreamed of triangles. He dreamed of a man and a wife and another man. That’s what is known as a triangle, you know. He didn’t give much time to the husband, but he did get the wife and the other man into a terrible mess. He made them fall in love, and he was just about to solve the problem of how he was going to get rid of the husband--that’s always the problem of triangles, you know--when he woke up.
Do you see the difficulty? Here are two angles, desperately in love, and they haven’t yet found out how they can get rid of the husband angle. And, moreover--but no, I’ve been enough Exposition for the present. If anything comes up that you don’t understand, I’ll try to make it clear to you. I’ll be right over here if you want me. If you’re all ready, we’ll begin. Just remember that you’re to help the angles if you can, please!
(_He walks to one side and folds his arms. The curtains part, revealing a blank wall of curtains in the rear. Before curtains are three high stools._ _On left stool the_ SHE-ANGLE _sits and on right stool the_ HE-ANGLE, _leaving the center stool vacant_.)
He-Angle. Well?
SHE-ANGLE (_shortly_)
I didn’t say anything.
He-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
She-Angle. What?
He-Angle. I didn’t say anything.
She-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
He-Angle. This isn’t getting us anywhere.
She-Angle. That’s right. Blame it on me!
He-Angle. Who’s blaming it on you?
She-Angle. You are!
He-Angle. I’m not!
She-Angle. You are!
He-Angle. I’m not!
She-Angle. I say you are.
He-Angle. I’m--Oh, well, have it your own way. But, after all, it isn’t getting us anywhere, is it?
She-Angle. Who said it was?
He-Angle. That’s right. Blame it on me!
She-Angle. Who’s blaming it on you?
He-Angle. You are.
She-Angle. I’m not!
He-Angle. You-- Oh, there we go again. (_Gets off chair and paces across stage._) After all, it _isn’t_ getting us anywhere.
She-Angle. Well, I’ve done all I could.
He-Angle. What have you done?
She-Angle. I’ve done everything I could.
He-Angle. So I heard you say. But what have you done?
She-Angle. I’ve racked my brains for days, if you want to know.
He-Angle. Oh, surely, it didn’t take all that.
She-Angle. All what?
He-Angle. Days.
SHE-ANGLE (_beginning to sob_)
There! You’re just like all men. Oh! And I thought you different.
He-Angle. Oh, come now! I say, there isn’t any reason for that.
She-Angle. Oh, no! You’d say not. You would.
He-Angle. Well, what did I say?
She-Angle. You said--(_Sobs._)--You said I didn’t have any brains.
He-Angle. I didn’t!
She-Angle. You did.
He-Angle. I didn’t.
SHE-ANGLE (_sobbing_)
You _did_!
He-Angle. Oh, well. (_He goes over to her and takes her hand._) I’m sorry. Really, I am, if I said it, but I don’t think I did.
SHE-ANGLE (_brightening_)
Well, you did.
He-Angle. I’m sorry. (_Puts arm about her._) I am like all men, I guess.
She-Angle. What do you mean by that?
He-Angle. Oh, nothing. But what are you going to do about it?
She-Angle. I’ve been trying to tell you all along, if you’d only let me.
He-Angle. What have you been trying to tell me?
She-Angle. What I’m going to do about it.
He-Angle. Oh!
She-Angle. What?
He-Angle. Nothing. I just said “Oh”!
She-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
He-Angle. Well?
She-Angle. I didn’t say anything.
He-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
She-Angle. You see, I will not just run away from my husband. I say I won’t!
He-Angle. No! Certainly not. But what are you going to do? You know I love you. Where do I come in?
She-Angle. Well, I’ve sent for a playwright.
He-Angle. Oh!
She-Angle. Yes.
He-Angle. But what good is a playwright?
She-Angle. Why, don’t you see? To get us out of this mess.
He-Angle. But what _good_ is he?
She-Angle. Why, don’t you see?
He-Angle. No.
She-Angle. Why, playwrights have to do with angles, and triangles, and all that sort of thing. He should be able to help us.
He-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
She-Angle. Well?
He-Angle. I didn’t say anything.
She-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
She-Angle. But I think you might.
He-Angle. Might what?
She-Angle. Say something. What do you think of it--my plan?
He-Angle. Oh! it’s all right, I guess.
She-Angle. You guess!
(_Looks as if on the verge of tears._)
He-Angle. Why, of course it is. It’s fine; that’s what it is. It’s great! But suppose he won’t be able to help us?
She-Angle. He--(_Looks off left._)--Here he comes! He will! (_Enter_ PLAYWRIGHT _from left_. _Both_ HE-ANGLE _and_ SHE-ANGLE _look at him curiously_. HE-ANGLE _goes back to his stool_.)
Playwright. You sent for me?
She-Angle. So you’re really a playwright! Oh!
Playwright. Well, rather. You sent for me?
She-Angle. Yes. I sent for you.
Playwright. Well?
HE-ANGLE } SHE-ANGLE } (_together_)
I didn’t say anything.
Playwright. But what did you send for me for?
She-Angle. I told you that--in my letter. You know--my husband. We’ve got to get free from him.
Playwright. Oh, yes! Husband--triangle. H’m.
She-Angle. I thought that you, being a playwright--
Playwright. Yes, yes, of course.
She-Angle. You see, it’s really a very serious matter.
Playwright. H’m! Oh, not so serious!
He-Angle. But what are we going to do about it?
Playwright. Not so fast, young man! Don’t be impatient.
He-Angle. But we’re tired just being--angles.
Playwright. Of course. H’m! Have you told him?
She-Angle. Whom?
Playwright. Why, your husband.
She-Angle. No.
Playwright. No, of course not. But it is all very plain.
He-Angle. What is all very plain?
Playwright. It’s all very simple. All you have to do is to run away.
HE-ANGLE } SHE-ANGLE } Run away!
Playwright. Why, of course. Together!
She-Angle. But--but the scandal.
Playwright. Ah, of course--the scandal. Wonderful! Think of it. The whole town talking. Ah, Pinero! Everyone that’s worth while. Of course!
She-Angle. But I don’t want them to talk!
Playwright. Don’t be foolish! Think of the dialogue!
He-Angle. The what?
Playwright. The dialogue. Think of what people will say! Sparkling, eh, what! Scintillating! Think of it! Ah, Wilde!
She-Angle. But I don’t want them to talk!
Playwright. Well, of all the--! But they will talk!
He-Angle. No!
Playwright. Yes! Of course they will. Do you think they’re fools? If they didn’t talk, why--why there wouldn’t be any sense to triangles. You angles must take the consequences. If you must angle, you must be talked about.
She-Angle. No! I refuse!
He-Angle. Certainly not!
(_Pause._)
Playwright. Well, then, if you insist on shutting out dialogue. There--have you thought of--How is your husband?
She-Angle. Why, well, thank you! Why--What do you mean?
Playwright. I mean--doesn’t he have anything?
She-Angle. Doesn’t he have anything?
Playwright. Why, yes--apoplexy or locomotor ataxia, or diabetes, or something?
She-Angle. Why--why, no!
Playwright. Pshaw, that’s too bad.
She-Angle. But I don’t know what you mean!
Playwright. Why, don’t you see? If he had something, he’d be bound to die at the right moment--which is now. Sort of an unwritten law among husbands, you know. They always do. They’re bound to in such cases as this--if everything else fails.
She-Angle. Well, he won’t.
He-Angle. No, he’s healthy as a fool! Besides, he wouldn’t have the decency.
She-Angle. He would! He would die, if he could. I know he would!
He-Angle. He wouldn’t! He’s too mean!
She-Angle. He isn’t! Besides, I don’t want him to die.
He-Angle. Who said you did?
She-Angle. You did!
He-Angle. I didn’t!
She-Angle. You _did_! You _did_! You _did_!
He-Angle. Oh, well!
Playwright. Come now, this isn’t getting us anywhere. We’re not through yet. There’s still another chance.
HE-ANGLE } SHE-ANGLE } (_together_)
What is it?
Playwright. Hire a yacht!
She-Angle. A yacht?
Playwright. Of course. Hire a yacht and get shipwrecked.
She-Angle. Oh!
He-Angle. Get shipwrecked?
Playwright. Of course. Hire a yacht and go to the South Sea Islands--Fiji will do. Get shipwrecked--it’s very easy to manage. Then, out there, under the open sky and the stars--nature will tell.
She-Angle. Nature will tell?
Playwright. Why, yes. You’ll fight--you (_to_ HE-ANGLE) and he. Let the best man win! You’ll win--unless you lose. In either case--(_To_ SHE-ANGLE.) In either case you’ll be satisfied. If your husband wins, you’ll find that all along you wanted your husband to win. (_Indicating_ HE-ANGLE.) If he wins, you’ll be happy to know that the man destiny picked for you won. It’s a fine place, the South Seas. You’re always satisfied.
She-Angle. But I don’t want to go to the South Seas!
He-Angle. Neither do I. It’s too lonely.
Playwright. Ah, no! It isn’t lonely any more. The South Seas have become very popular with the people who want to read their Ten Favorite Books and who never would read them anywhere else. You’d not be lonely--if you enjoy Shakespeare and Walt Whitman.
She-Angle. I hate Shakespeare, and I hate Walt Whitman! I won’t go! A fortune teller once told me I’d die by drowning, and I won’t go aboard a ship!
Playwright. Not even to Europe?
She-Angle. Not even to Europe.
Playwright. How vulgar! (_He walks toward off stage._) Good day!
She-Angle. What, are you going?
Playwright. Yes, I’m going. What do you expect me to do? Stay here and be insulted?
He-Angle. Be insulted?
Playwright. Yes, be insulted. When you sent for me, I thought you would follow my advice. I have more to give, but I refuse to have my ideas laughed at. They’ve always been successful before--they still are in a thousand cases. But you think you’re too good, and your husband is too damn healthy, and yourself too superstitious. Good day.
(_He lifts his hat and passes out right. Both_ HE-ANGLE _and_ SHE-ANGLE _look disconsolately after him_.)
She-Angle. Well?
He-Angle. I didn’t say anything.
She-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
He-Angle. I told you so!
She-Angle. What did you tell me?
He-Angle. That a fool playwright wouldn’t be any help.
She-Angle. You didn’t!
He-Angle. I did! Now if you’d followed my plan in the first place!
She-Angle. You didn’t have any plan.
He-Angle. I did. You know I did. My friend, the Poet. If you’d only sent for him--He’d be able to help us. A poet’s got imagination. That’s what we need--imagination. He’s got it--my friend, the Poet.
She-Angle. Why didn’t _you_ send for him?
He-Angle. I did, even if you wouldn’t. I asked him to come, and he said he’d be right over.
She-Angle. Well, why didn’t he come?
He-Angle. He’d been here long ago if it hadn’t been for that fool of a playwright. I never liked playwrights anyway. Poets for me every time. They’re so practical.
She-Angle. Well, why doesn’t he come?
He-Angle. He probably is here; no doubt he’s been here all the time that fool Playwright was here, only I didn’t want to have them meet. They don’t hitch very well, Poets and Playwrights. At least any more. (_He looks toward_ PROLOGUE.) Is the Poet here?
(_The_ PROLOGUE _looks off stage right_.)
PROLOGUE
Yes, the Poet is here.
He-Angle. Send him in.
PROLOGUE
I beg your pardon! I’m a Prologue--not a butler. However, I’ll call him if you insist. But please address me more respectfully in the future.
He-Angle. I beg your pardon, Prologue. Please call the Poet.
PROLOGUE (_beckoning off stage right_)
Poet. (_Enter_ POET _from right. He is fat, bald, and of a rosy complexion._)
Poet. Hullo!
HE-ANGLE (_getting off stool_)
Hullo! (_Turns to_ SHE-ANGLE.) May I introduce Poet?
SHE-ANGLE (_bowing stiffly_)
How do you do!
(_She is not a bit impressed._)
Poet. You sent for me?
He-Angle. Yes. As I explained in my letter, we want advice on how to solve our triangle.
Poet. But I’m a Poet. I always was rotten at mathematics.
He-Angle. But this is not a mathematical triangle. (_He gets back on stool._) You see (_indicating_ SHE-ANGLE), we’re angles.
Poet. Oh, I see! (_To_ SHE-ANGLE.) He’s complimentary, eh, what? Haw!
(SHE-ANGLE _sniffs, very much upstage, at the pun_.)
He-Angle. We need your advice. Imagination! It’s going to take imagination to get us out of this mess. That’s why I sent for you.
Poet. Thank you. Well, then, what have you done?
He-Angle. Nothing.
She-Angle. A Playwright tried to help us, but--
Poet. But couldn’t. Of course! Tawdry stuff, I suppose. I know just about what he would suggest. It goes well enough on the stage, but it isn’t art.
She-Angle. Ah! Art!
Poet. Of course. You want to be artistic, don’t you?
SHE-ANGLE (_beginning to melt_)
Yes. Oh, yes!
Poet. H’m.
(_Pause._)
He-Angle. Well?
Poet. I didn’t say anything.
She-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
Poet. There’s really not much to be done. It’s all so simple, really, and all so artistic. Poetry! I tell you there’s poetry there.
HE-ANGLE } SHE-ANGLE } (_together_)
Where?
Poet. There.
HE-ANGLE } SHE-ANGLE } (_together_)
Oh!
Poet. Yes, there’s poetry there, and art. It’s so artistic to suffer.
She-Angle. To suffer?
Poet. Yes, so artistic. A sacrifice on the altar of living love. Oh, divine sacrifice! Oh, the beauty and the art of suffering!
He-Angle. Say, I don’t get all that you’re raving about, but if you have the idea that we aren’t suffering, you’re way off. We are. And it may be artistic, but it’s damn uncomfortable.
Poet. Uncomfortable. Yes. So artistic. The altar of living love. Purple love, deep, mystic, fragrant, yes. So uncomfortable, but so beautiful.
She-Angle. But I thought you would be able to help us.
Poet. Ah, I am able. So able! Already I have envisioned your life. So heroic! So hopeless!
He-Angle. Hopeless?
Poet. Yes. Two lives sacrificed on the altar of living, hopeless love. Deathless love, fragrant and so purple!
He-Angle. Come out of it and explain all this nonsense to us! Can you help us escape from this awful three-cornered prison?
Poet. Ah, yes, three-cornered. The three-cornered prison of love! Fetters forged in the vermillion fire of love. No blue flame to love, but deep vermillion girandoles of passion! So vermillion!
SHE-ANGLE (_she has stood it as long as she can_)
He’s mad!
POET (_starting up_)
What?
He-Angle. I sent for you, thinking that with your imagination you would be able to help us. But it seems that you’ve got too much imagination. Have you any suggestion or haven’t you?
Poet. Why, of course I have. Haven’t I been telling you all along?
She-Angle. Well, how am I to get rid of my husband?
Poet. Ah, madam. You’ll not do that. Ah, no! So comfortable but so inartistic.
She-Angle. Not get rid of him! But what shall I do?
Poet. Live. Madam, live--a living sacrifice on the altar of a living love!
She-Angle. You mean--? You don’t mean--?
Poet. Yes.
He-Angle. But where do I come in?
Poet. Ah, my boy. That is it. You, too, can suffer so beautifully. Eternally! Love is eternity. Love her, my boy, and suffer from afar.
He-Angle. Not marry her?
Poet. No, no! Not marry her! That would not be art. You must deny your love, lock it in your heart and go.
He-Angle. Go where?
Poet. That doesn’t matter. Just go. In your heart a love denied. So denied!
He-Angle. But I’m not going. I’m going----
Poet. But I thought you said you weren’t.
He-Angle. I’m going to marry her!
Poet. No! Good Lord, no! Anything but that. Seal up your hearts with the seals of eternity and deny your love. There only is Poetry! There only is Art! Seal up your hearts, I say. But don’t marry.
She-Angle. I will marry him!
Poet. You, too! Think of it. Why, you are spoiling your great opportunity of sacrificing yourself on the altar of deathless love. You may be _sung_, if you seal your hearts; but marry, and you’ll go and have children. Ugh!
She-Angle. I love children.
Poet. Ugh! Deny your purple love, and suffer the eternal pangs of deathless, hopeless yearning. I’ll sing you. Why, I’ve already thought of two new rhymes for love and a beautiful simile. Think of it. Deny your love and have your story told to the world in similes!
She-Angle. I hate similes!
Poet. So heroic! So beautiful! So deathless to deny a hopeless love. Beside it the human sacrifices of golden Chichen-Itza were pale and anemic. I’m holding out to you the straw of immortality.
She-Angle. I don’t want to be immortal. I want children.
Poet. Oh, well. Then have your children. But don’t, in the name of art and beauty, don’t have legitimate children. Legitimate children are so prosy. A poet can’t sing of them.
SHE-ANGLE (_feeling her cheeks_)
Oh! Oh! Why, the idea!
He-Angle. Come, now, that’s going a bit too far! I don’t think you can help us. In fact, I think everything you’ve said about the most ridiculous rubbish I ever heard.
Poet. Rubbish! Fool! Fools! (_He stalks toward left._) I’m through with you. Love your damn heads off and marry and have children, dozens of them. I hope they’re all cross-eyed! Fools!
(_He goes off left angrily_, HE-ANGLE _and_ SHE-ANGLE _sit on their stools, a picture of resentment and outraged respectability_.)
She-Angle. I told you so.
He-Angle. What did you tell me?
She-Angle. I knew he couldn’t help us. A poet! He’s no poet. Fat and bald. Ugh! I think he ought to be arrested as an impostor. Why, the idea of his talking about illegit--about--ah--children!
He-Angle. And I thought he was a friend of mine! I always liked poetry, too.
She-Angle. Deny our love! Live and suffer! I don’t believe he knows what love is. Or life either. And then those--children!
(_She feels her cheeks again. Pause while both sit thoughtfully._)
He-Angle. Well?
She-Angle. I didn’t say anything.
He-Angle. Oh!
(_Pause._)
She-Angle. But what are we to _do_?
He-Angle. I don’t know. This is an awful mess. Maybe Poet is right and we’ll have to go on as we are--just angles.
She-Angle. He isn’t right! and I won’t go on just being an angle.
He-Angle. But what are we going to do?
She-Angle. I’m sure I don’t know--yet. But we’ll find a way.
(_Pause while they both seem to concentrate._)
She-Angle. I have it!
He-Angle. What?
She-Angle. Why didn’t we think of it before?
He-Angle. What?
She-Angle. Why, Prologue! Why don’t we ask Prologue?
He-Angle. That’s right. Why didn’t we?
She-Angle. Oh, Prologue!
(PROLOGUE, _who has been leaning half asleep on his trumpet, turns to the_ ANGLES.)
PROLOGUE
Yes?
She-Angle. We want your help. We need your advice.
PROLOGUE
Oh, no!
She-Angle. What do you mean?
PROLOGUE
I mean you’re not going to drag me into this mess. I’m a Prologue and don’t know anything about Angles--any more than I do about playing this trumpet We Prologues have a lot to contend with these days. They make us do all sorts of things--even to shifting scenery at times. But so far they have kept us out of scandals, and I’m not going to start in, as old as I am, getting into such scrapes.
She-Angle. But, Prologue, we don’t want you to get into any scrapes. We only want you to give us advice on how to solve the triangle.
PROLOGUE
Oh, yes, that’s all you want me to do. But say, haven’t I seen plays before? Haven’t I seen innocent bystanders dragged into such messes as this, even into the divorce courts, just because of a little good advice given at the wrong time.
She-Angle. But this is the right time.
PROLOGUE
How can I be sure of that? Besides, as I said before, I’m the Prologue and not an information bureau or ways and means committee.
(_He turns back to the side of the proscenium where he has been standing._)
He-Angle. Don’t give us any advice, Prologue. But haven’t you any suggestions?
PROLOGUE
No!--Why, yes, I’ll give you a suggestion. Why don’t you try the audience?
He-Angle. The--the audience?
PROLOGUE
Yes. Why don’t you try them? Maybe there is a novelist among them.
She-Angle. Oh, fine! Maybe there is! Ask them, Prologue, do! I know an Author can help us!
PROLOGUE (_turning to audience_)
Is there an Author in the audience? (_Pause._) A Novelist?
AUTHOR (_rising somewhere in the audience_)
Yes. I’m a Novelist. (_He comes forward._) I’ve been thinking it was about time some one with a little brains took a hand in these proceedings. I’ll be glad to help you.
PROLOGUE
Come right up, Author.
(AUTHOR _goes up on the stage_.)
PROLOGUE (_to_ ANGLES)
Here is your Author.
(_Turns back to his original post._)
Author. You know, I feel very sorry for you people, not because of the mess you’re in but because of the way you tried to get out of it.
He-Angle. What do you mean?
Author. Why, calling on a playwright and a poet. What good did you ever think they could possibly do you? I’m suspicious of them, particularly playwrights. I once had a novel, one of my best, adapted for the stage. (_He throws up his hands._) You should have seen it when that playwright got through with it! I wouldn’t have recognized it myself. Only the title remained the same.
She-Angle. But they’re usually very good in triangles.
AUTHOR (_sniffing_)
Oh, yes. They know how to invent them, but they fail utterly in solving them satisfactorily. Why, not so long ago a very prominent playwright put two triangles together and tried to pass it off as a circle, but they remained triangles. It might be good dialogue, but it’s poor mathematics.
He-Angle. Do you think you can help us?
Author. My boy, I’m sure of it. Of course, it’s largely up to you. If you’re willing to take sound advice, I know I can help you. I’ve solved many triangles in my time. That’s the kind of novel I have always written, and I always see to it that there’s a good moral attached. So do you feel it safe to listen to me?
She-Angle. Oh, yes! (_To_ HE-ANGLE.) I’m sure he’s going to be able to help us!
Author. Now then. The first thing you’re to do is to send for your husband and tell him all about it.
She-Angle. Tell him! Oh, I can’t do that!
Author. Yes, you must tell him. Now twenty years ago you would not have been able to do that, but now--all is different. Twenty years ago it would have meant a duel or a murder. To-day, however, husbands are different. I suppose we novelists are really responsible for the change. Realism has done it. Realism has made men realize that man and wife are two separate and individual entities. The wife, man now realizes, has a right to lead her own life as she chooses. And he accepts it. Realism has done it!
She-Angle. But my husband doesn’t.
Author. Doesn’t what?
She-Angle. Accept it. He doesn’t believe it. He wouldn’t allow it!
Author. But how do you know unless you try him? I am willing to stake my reputation as a Novelist that he would be amenable to argument.
She-Angle. But he hates arguments. I never could even argue with him over the price of a hat.
Author. Besides, perhaps he, too, is tired.
She-Angle. Tired of what?
Author. Of--of marriage.
She-Angle. Oh! of marriage. Of me, you mean?
Author. That is putting it very bluntly. But, since you put it that way--yes.
SHE-ANGLE (_turning to_ HE-ANGLE)
Oh!
He-Angle. See here! What are you trying to insinuate?
Author. I’m not trying to insinuate anything. My dear man, I am simply appealing to your sense of justice. It is not unreasonable to conceive of a mutual feeling of surfeit arising in man and wife. That has frequently been the case, as you will realize if you read the popular novel. We novelists were among the first to recognize it. It will soon be put on the stage.
She-Angle. I’m sure he isn’t tired of me.
Author. Of you--probably not. But of marriage and its restrictions--yes, perhaps.
He-Angle. But, suppose he were tired of marriage. What good would all this be?
Author. You should be able to come to some arrangement. Divorce, perhaps.
She-Angle. I hate divorce! It’s so vulgar!
Author. Oh, not any more. It’s really very smart.
She-Angle. I don’t like it!
Author. Well, I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this mess if you won’t listen to divorce. There’s no chance of your husband’s dying you told the playwright. There are only two other ways out.
She-Angle. And what are they?
Author. Murder and free love. I don’t suppose you’ll commit murder?
SHE-ANGLE (_shrinking_)
Oh, no! Murder my husband!
Author. It’s not so very bad. Really, murder may be so committed that it is neither vulgar nor sinful.
She-Angle. Not sinful!
Author. Of course not. Murder is not necessarily sinful. It is held to be so only as a matter of convenience and because people have a naïve way of speaking of one’s having a right to live. After all, no one has any real right except to die. Murder is not considered sinful even by so-called moralists if it be done for a patriotic reason as in war. To ease your conscience, then, can’t you think of a patriotic reason why your husband should die? Does he obey the laws?
She-Angle. Why, yes, I think so. At least as much as any one does. But let’s not discuss that. I won’t murder him and I won’t have him murdered!
Author. Well then. Free love?
She-Angle. But that certainly is sinful!
Author. Oh, no! How old-fashioned you are!
She-Angle. Well, I don’t care if I am old-fashioned. I’m not going to do anything that my conscience says is wrong!
Author. Well, all I have to say is that you’re a queer pair. You’ve been unconventional enough to go and fall in love. That does not seem to you to be wrong, but you balk at divorce, murder, and free love. I’m sure I don’t see any help for you. What you need is not a Novelist or a Playwright or a Poet, but a Psychiatrist. Good day!
(_He goes out at left._)
She-Angle. What a disagreeable man!
He-Angle. Realism did it!
She-Angle. I don’t believe he’s much of an Author.
He-Angle. Trash is all he writes, probably.
She-Angle. Free love!
He-Angle. Murder!
(_An_ ACTRESS _rises somewhere in the audience_.)
Actress. Let me help you!
She-Angle. Who is that?
ACTRESS (_coming toward stage_)
I know I can help you if you’ll let me. I know just how you feel.
(PROLOGUE _assists her to the stage_.)
PROLOGUE
And your name?
Actress. I’m an Actress.
PROLOGUE (_to_ SHE-ANGLE)
She’s an Actress.
SHE-ANGLE (_to_ HE-ANGLE)
She’s an Actress.
He-Angle. An Actress!
ACTRESS (_going to_ SHE-ANGLE _at once sympathetic and patronizing and always fully realizing that she is going to have an opportunity to hold the center of the stage_:)
You poor dear, I know how you feel. I know.
She-Angle. I’ve suffered much.
Actress. I know. I know.
He-Angle. Can you help us?
ACTRESS (_turning to him; every movement is deliberate, studied_)
Yes.
He-Angle. I’m sure you can.
Actress. Yes.
She-Angle. My husband, you know--
Actress. I know.
She-Angle. How can you help us?
Actress. Ah, you must be deft. You must be subtle. But not too subtle.
She-Angle. But, go on!
Actress. It is all so very simple. First you must decide what you want. Do you want to marry your lover?
She-Angle. Yes.
Actress. Do you want that most of all?
She-Angle. Yes, most of all.
Actress. Then you must realize there is only one solution--divorce. As the Author says it is very smart. It is not vulgar unless the husband gets it. If the wife gets it, divorce is quite all right. Of course, murder is all right if you’re a tragedienne. Are you a tragedienne?
She-Angle. I can’t act!
Actress. Then it must be divorce and you must be the one to obtain it. That is very simple. Your husband loves you? Yes?
She-Angle. I’m sure of it!
Actress. Yes. I know! Yes, your husband loves you. You must, however, show him that your love for him has died, that you love another and that you must either marry this other man or be his mistress.
She-Angle. Oh!
Actress. I know how you feel. I know.
She-Angle. But I can’t do that!
Actress. Oh, yes, you can. You must only be deft. You must act. You must show him how you suffer.
She-Angle. But how?
Actress. I shall show you. We shall have a rehearsal now. I shall be you, and your lover will be your husband. You must watch me carefully. Then you do as I do.
She-Angle. Ah, I see.
ACTRESS (_going up toward_ HE-ANGLE)
I shall call him John. It need not be his name, but it will do in rehearsal. Besides, I like simple names in emotional scenes. Monosyllables are best. They’re so tense when used alone. (_Turning again toward_ HE-ANGLE.) You must help me now. I want you to do just the things and say the things you would if you were really John. John!
He-Angle. Yes, dear.
Actress. I have something to say to you, John dear.
He-Angle. Yes, dear?
(ACTRESS _sits on stool beside_ HE-ANGLE. _She sits impassive, tense._)
Actress. Won’t you sit down?
(HE-ANGLE _sits_.)
Actress. How long have we been married, John?
He-Angle. Why, five years, dear. Why?
Actress. We’ve been very happy, haven’t we, John?
He-Angle. I don’t know what you mean!
Actress. We’ve been happy, haven’t we? That is all.
He-Angle. Yes, dear. But--
Actress. You’ve loved me, John?
He-Angle. Always.
Actress. You still love me, John?
(HE-ANGLE _wavers a little. He feels that this is getting a bit deep._)
Actress. Don’t be bashful. Remember this is only a rehearsal. Put your arms around me and kiss me. John would.
(HE-ANGLE _is not unwilling, but the presence of_ SHE-ANGLE _disturbs him somewhat, particularly as the latter is beginning to lose interest in the technical side of the rehearsal and to resent the liberties the_ ACTRESS _is taking with her lover_.)
Actress. Do as I say or I can’t go on. Do you still love me, John?
HE-ANGLE (_taking her in his arms with a mixture of contentment and apprehension, he kisses her_)
There, dear. Does that answer your question?
Actress. I’m afraid it does.
He-Angle. Afraid?
Actress. Yes, John, afraid.
HE-ANGLE (_in the spirit of the play_)
But why do you say that?
Actress. Oh, John. I don’t know how I can ever tell you.
He-Angle. Tell me what?
ACTRESS (_parenthetically_)
Oh, you’re doing fine. Tell you that--
He-Angle. Yes?
Actress. Oh, John, I no longer love you!
He-Angle. What?
Actress. Oh, John. It’s true. Kill me! Do anything with me! I don’t deserve your love! I’m unworthy of you. Kill me!
He-Angle. You don’t love me!
Actress. Kill me. Oh, John, it’s too true, too terribly true. Would to God I had died before I met you. Then you would be saved this. Kill me, John!
HE-ANGLE (_putting his hands firmly on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes_)
What do you mean?
ACTRESS (_hanging her head_)
Oh, John, you’re making it very hard for me. I--I love another.
He-Angle. You’re not telling me the truth!
Actress. I never was more serious in my life, John.
He-Angle. You love another!
Actress. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.
He-Angle. You love another!
Actress. But I love you, too. Honestly, I love you. But in a different sort of way. I’ll always love you, John. You’ve been so fair to me.
HE-ANGLE (_taking her suddenly in his arms and kissing her passionately_)
It’s a lie. Darling, say it’s a lie!
(_He kisses her again._ SHE-ANGLE _does not like it. She jumps to her feet._)
SHE-ANGLE (_coldly_)
That will do!
(HE-ANGLE _and_ ACTRESS _both turn toward her_.)
She-Angle. That will be enough.
Actress. But we’re not nearly through yet!
She-Angle. That is what I was afraid of. But I do not think I require any more instruction. I have learned much already.
Actress. But what about the rest?
She-Angle. There isn’t going to be any rest.
Actress. What do you mean?
She-Angle. I mean that I am quite capable of settling my domestic problems without any assistance from the theatrical profession.
Actress. Why! Why!
She-Angle. I know. I know.
Actress. Of all the insults! Goodness knows, I didn’t want to interfere in your business.
She-Angle. Well, no one asked you to!
Actress. You did. You appealed to the audience.
She-Angle. I didn’t! All I asked of the audience was a Novelist. I didn’t ask for a chorus girl.
Actress. A chorus girl! I’ll have you sued for slander, you silly, ignorant doll, you. A chorus girl! You free-lover! You, you mistress!
(ACTRESS _stalks off right_.)
He-Angle. I don’t see why you did that!
SHE-ANGLE (_sarcastically_)
No, of course you don’t. Certainly not!
He-Angle. She isn’t a chorus girl.
She-Angle. How do you know she isn’t?
He-Angle. Well, I just know. She didn’t look like one, for one thing.
SHE-ANGLE (_too agreeable_)
I thought she did, but I see I was mistaken. I shall not argue with an authority.
He-Angle. What do you mean?
She-Angle. I dare say you know a great deal about chorus girls, and--and actresses. I can readily see that you are very familiar with the looks and actions of that kind of people. I understand perfectly now how you were able to carry your part so well, I--
He-Angle. Stop!
She-Angle. I shall not stop! What right have you to tell me to stop? As I was saying before you so rudely lost your temper, I quite realize that in all probability it was not your first scene with an Actress.
He-Angle. I say--!
She-Angle. You have said quite enough. Quite too much, in fact. It is all very plain to me that your intimacy with chorus girls and soubrettes has stood you in good stead to-day. I am glad to have learned that before I took some rash step. I am very glad to be able to say that whatever may be my husband’s faults, he has never frequented stage doors.
He-Angle. What in Heaven’s name has come over you? Are you insane?
She-Angle. That’s right! Call me names. Strike me! That is all there is left to do!
HE-ANGLE (_he goes up to her and makes her face him_)
You know everything you have said is damned foolishness. You know you had no basis for such a scene.
SHE-ANGLE (_in a rage_)
No basis! No basis! To see you take another woman, a painted woman probably from a burlesque chorus, to see you take her into your arms, burning with passion, your eyes dilated, your cheeks flushed, your whole being mad with unholy love. No basis, do you say? To see you do that while still my lover! What would it be if you were married to me--if you were my husband! Oh, I have been blind! I have a husband who has at least the grace to carry on his amours behind my back, if he does carry on any. And I would have changed him for you! Oh, I have been blind! Go!
He-Angle. But--
She-Angle. Go! Go! Do not stay another moment! Here comes my husband. I hear him outside. If you don’t go I shall have him kill you.
He-Angle. Darling--
She-Angle. Don’t use that word to me! Go!
He-Angle. You must listen.
She-Angle. I shall scream!
(_The_ HUSBAND-ANGLE _enters_.)
Husband-Angle. Hello, Darling. (_To_ HE-ANGLE.) How are you?
She-Angle. He’s just hurrying away--to meet the dearest actress in the world who has been here to call.
(HE-ANGLE _gives her an ugly look_.)
He-Angle. Good-by.
SHE-ANGLE (_too sweet_)
Good-by!
Husband-Angle. Good-by.
(HE-ANGLE _goes_.)
Husband-Angle. I’ve got two seats for a good show to-night, dear. It’s a problem play. Wonderful actress.
SHE-ANGLE (_kisses him_)
Oh, you darling! I love actresses.
CURTAIN
(PROLOGUE _gathers his trumpet sleepily under his arm. He has been half asleep during the later action of the play. He looks at the audience in some confusion and starts to go through the curtains._)
PROLOGUE
I’ve got to hurry or I’ll be an Epilogue. That wasn’t so hard to settle, was it? Thank you.
(_He goes within the curtains._)
THE END
_Longer Dramas from Appleton’s List_
THE SEA WOMAN’S CLOAK and NOVEMBER EVE
_By Amélie Rives (Princess Troubetzkoy)_
Out of the legends and folklore of Ireland and her own particular fantasy she has made two plays as Irish as anything of Yeats’s, Synge’s, Lady Gregory’s. As individual. As enchanting.
=The Sea Woman’s Cloak= (3 m. 3 w. and others.). =November Eve= (8 m. 8 w. and others.). $2.00.
MARCH HARES
_By Harry Wagstaff Gribble_
A satire in three acts. First presented in New York at the Bijou Theatre, later at the Punch and Judy in the summer of 1921, later revived at the Little Theatre. “It offers,” says _Heywood Broun_, “some of the most agile dialogue that our theatre has known and reveals its author as the possessor of a rare gift for nonsense. And his nonsense is not just for the sheer trick of the thing, but molded with satirical intent.” _New York Evening Telegram_: “A delightful work, as good as Oscar Wilde at his best, sharply defined, brilliant, and deliciously amusing.” $2.00.
GOAT ALLEY
_By Ernest Howard Culbertson_
_Introduction by Ludwig Lewisohn_
A drama of Negro life in three acts. First presented at the Bijou Theatre, New York City, in June, 1921. (7 m. 4 w.). _New York Tribune_: “A stunning tragedy. In the characterization there are fine perception and vivid writing. There is heartbreak in this play.” _Oakland Tribune_: “Splendidly and heroically written. A play to meditate over.” $1.75.
THE SUN CHASER
_By Jeannette Marks_
_Author of “Three Welsh Plays”_
The search for happiness is the theme of this play, which is both realistic and--in the poignant figure of Ambrose Clark, who drunkenly, lamely chases the sun--subtly symbolic (11 m. 3 w. 4 g. 1 b.). _John Barrymore_: “I have read ‘The Sun Chaser.’ I think it has great beauty and a curious sense of mood and imminent vague things. I also think it brilliantly characterized.” $1.75.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Page 37: exclamation mark added after “I no longer love you”.
Due to technical reasons, a symbol on the title page could not be reproduced in this text edition. It is represented in this edition as “¤”.
Hyphenation of “three-cornered” normalised.