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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Washington Square Plays
+by Various
+
+Includes:
+1. The Clod  .  .  .  . .  By Lewis Beach
+2. Eugenically Speaking .  By Edward Goodman
+3. Overtones .  .  .  .  . By Alice Gerstenberg
+4. Helena's Husband . . .  By Philip Moeller
+
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+Title: Washington Square Plays
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+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February, 2002  [Etext #3068]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Washington Square Plays
+by Various
+******This file should be named wspla10.txt or wspla10.zip******
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+
+
+WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS
+
+Volume XX, The Drama League Series of Plays
+
+Washington Square Plays
+
+1. The Clod  .  .  .  . .  By Lewis Beach
+2. Eugenically Speaking .  By Edward Goodman
+3. Overtones .  .  .  .  . By Alice Gerstenberg
+4. Helena's Husband . . .  By Philip Moeller
+
+
+WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY WALTER PRICHARD EATON
+
+PREFACE BY EDWARD GOODMAN
+Director of the Washington Square Players
+
+GARDEN CITY      NEW YORK
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+1925
+
+Copyright, 1916, by
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+THE CLOD. COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY EMMET LEWIS BEACH
+EUGENICALLY SPEAKING. COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY EDWARD GOODMAN
+OVERTONES. COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY ALICE GERSTENBERG
+HELENA'S HUSBAND. COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY PHILIP MOELLER
+
+
+In its present form these plays are dedicated to the reading
+public only, and no performance of them may be given. Any piracy
+or infringement will be prosecuted in accordance with the
+penalties provided by the United States Statutes:
+
+
+SECTION 28. That any person who willfully and for profit shall
+infringe any copyright secured by this Act, or who shall
+knowingly and willfully aid or abet such infringement, shall be
+deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof shall
+be punished by imprisonment for not exceeding one year or by a
+fine of not less than one hundred dollars nor more than one
+thousand dollars or both, in the discretion of the court.
+SECTION 29. That any person, who with fraudulent intent, shall
+insert or impress any notice of copyright required by this Act,
+or words of the same purport, in or upon any uncopyrighted
+article, or with fraudulent intent shall remove or alter the
+copyright notice upon any article duly copyrighted shall be
+guilty of a misdemeanor, punishable by a fine of not less than
+one hundred dollars and not more than one thousand dollars. Act
+of March 4, 1909.
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN
+CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+The rigid conventionality of the theatre has been frequently
+remarked upon. Why the world should ever fear a radical, indeed,
+is hard to see, since he has against him the whole dead weight of
+society; but least of all need the radical be dreaded in the
+theatre. When the average person pays money for his amusements,
+he is little inclined to be pleased with something which doesn't
+amuse him: and what amuses him, nine times out of ten, is what
+has amused him. That is why changes in the theatre are relatively
+slow, and customs long prevail, even till it seems they may
+corrupt the theatrical world.
+
+For many generations in our playhouse it was the custom to follow
+the long play of the evening with an "afterpiece," generally in
+one act, but always brief, and almost always gay, if not
+farcical. Audiences, which in the early days assembled before
+seven o'clock, had to be sent home happy. After the tragedy, the
+slap-stick or the loud guffaw; after "Romeo and Juliet," Cibber's
+"Hob in the Well"; after "King Lear," "The Irish Widow." (These
+two illustrations are taken at random from the programs of the
+Charleston theatre in 1773.)  This custom persisted until
+comparatively recent times. The fathers and mothers of the
+present generation can remember when William Warren, at the
+Boston Museum, would turn of an evening from such a part as his
+deep-hearted Sir Peter Teazle to the loud and empty vociferations
+of a Morton farce. The entertainment in those days would hardly
+have been considered complete without the "afterpiece," or, as
+time went on, sometimes the "curtain raiser." It is by no means
+certain that theatre seats were always cheaper than to-day. In
+some cases, certainly, they were relatively quite as high. But it
+is certain that you got more for your money. You frequently saw
+your favorite actor in two contrasted roles, two contrasted
+styles of acting perhaps, and you saw him from early evening till
+a decently late hour. You didn't get to the theatre at 8.30, wait
+for the curtain to rise on a thin-spun drawing-room comedy at
+8.45, and begin hunting for your wraps at 10.35. One hates to
+think, in fact, what would have happened to a manager fifty years
+ago who didn't give more than that for the price of a ticket. Our
+fathers and mothers watched their pennies more sharply than we
+do.
+
+For various reasons, one of them no doubt being the growth of
+cheaper forms of amusement and the consequent desertion from the
+traditional playhouse of a considerable body of those who least
+like, and can least afford, to spend money irrespective of
+returns, the "afterpiece" and "curtain raiser" have practically
+vanished from our stage. They have so completely vanished, in
+fact, that theatre goers have lost not only the habit of
+expecting them, but the imaginative flexibility to enjoy them. If
+you should play "Romeo and Juliet" to-day and then follow it with
+a one-act farce, your audience would be uncomfortably bewildered.
+They would be unable to make the necessary adjustment of mood. If
+you focus your vision rapidly from a near to a far object, you
+probably suffer from eye-strain. Similarly, the jump from one
+play to the other in the theatre gives a modern audience mind- or
+mood-strain. It is largely a matter of habit. We, to-day, have
+lost the trick through lack of practice. The old custom is dead;
+we are fixed in a new one. If Maude Adams, for instance, should
+follow "The Little Minister" with a roaring farce, or Sothern
+should turn on the same evening from "If I Were King" to "Box and
+Cox," we  should feel that some artistic unity had been rudely
+violated; nor am I at all sure, being a product of this
+generation, but that we should be quite right.
+
+Matters standing as they do, then, it seems to me that the talk
+we frequently hear about reviving "the art of the one-act play"
+by restoring the curtain raisers or afterpieces to the programs
+of our theatres is reactionary and futile. All recent attempts to
+pad out a slim play with an additional short one have failed to
+meet with approval, even when the short piece was so masterly a
+work as Barrie's "The Will," splendidly acted by John Drew, or
+the same author's "Twelve Pound Look," acted by Miss Barrymore.
+Nor is it at all certain that the one-act plays of our parents
+and grandparents and great-grandparents, the names of which you
+may read by the thousands on ancient playbills, added anything to
+the store of dramatic literature. Some of them are decently
+entombed in the catacombs of Lacy's British Drama, or still
+available for amateurs in French's library. Did you ever try to
+read one? Of course, there was "Box and Cox," but it is doubtful
+if there will be any great celebration at the tercentenary of
+Morton's death. For the most part, those ancient afterpieces were
+frankly padding, conventional farces to fill up the bill and send
+the audiences home happy.  To the real art of the drama or the
+development of the one-act play as a form of serious literary
+expression, they made precious little contribution. They were a
+theatrical tradition, a convention.
+
+But the one-act play, nonetheless, has an obvious right to
+existence, as much as the short story, and there are plentiful
+proofs that it can be as terse, vivid, and significant. Most
+novelists don't tack on a short story at the end of their books
+for full measure, but issue their contes either in collections
+or in the pages of the magazines.  What  similar chances are
+there, or can there be, for the one-act play, the dramatic short
+story?
+
+An obvious chance is offered by vaudeville. The vaudeville
+audience is in the mood for rapid alterations of attention; it
+has the habit of variety. This is just as much a convention of
+vaudeville as the single play is now a convention of the
+traditional theatre. Indeed, anything longer than a one-act play
+in vaudeville would be frowned upon. Any one wishing to push the
+analogy can find more than one correspondence between a
+vaudeville program and the contents of a "popular" magazine;
+each, certainly, is the present refuge of short fiction. Yet
+vaudeville can hardly be considered an ideal cradle for a serious
+dramatic art. (Shall we say that the analogy to the "popular"
+magazine still holds?) The average "playlet" -- atrocious word --
+in the variety theatres is a dreadful thing, crude, obvious,
+often sensational or sentimental, usually very badly acted at
+least in the minor r&ocirc;les, and still more a frank padding, a
+thing of the footlights, than the afterpiece of our parents. It
+has been frequently said by those optimists who are forever
+discovering the birth of the arts in popular amusements that
+vaudeville audiences will appreciate and applaud the best. This
+is only in part true. They will appreciate the best juggler, the
+cleverest trained dog, the most appealing ballad singer such as
+Chevalier or Harry Lauder. But they will no more appreciate those
+subtleties of dramatic art which must have free play in the
+serious development of the one-act play than the readers of a
+"popular" magazine in America (or England either) would
+appreciate Kipling's "They," or George Moore's "The Wild Goose,"
+or de Maupassant's "La Ficelle." To  expect them to is silly; and
+to expect that because the supreme, vivid example of any form is
+comprehensible to all classes and all mixtures of classes,
+therefore the supreme example is going to be developed out of the
+commonplace stuff such mixed audiences daily enjoy, is equally to
+misunderstand the evolution of an art product in our complex
+modern world. But, indeed, the matter scarce calls for argument.
+Vaudeville itself furnishes the answer. Where are its one-act
+plays which can be called dramatic literature? It is a hopeful
+sign, perhaps, that certain of the plays in this volume have
+percolated into the varieties! But they were not cradled there.
+
+If the traditional theatre, then, is now in a rut which affords
+no room for the one-act play, and if vaudeville is an empty 
+cradle for this branch of dramatic art, where shall we turn?  The
+one-act play to-day has found refuge and encouragement in the
+experimental theatres, and among the amateurs.  The best one-act
+plays so far written in English have come out of Ireland, chiefly
+from the Abbey Theatre in Dublin where they were first acted by a
+company recruited from amateur players. Synge's "Riders to the
+Sea," Yeats's "The Hour Glass," the comedies of Lady Gregory and
+others of that school, have not only proved the power of this
+form to carry the sense of reality, but its power as well to
+reach tragic intensity or high poetic beauty. The sombre
+loveliness and cleansing reality of Synge's masterpiece are
+almost unrivaled in our short-play literature. Not from the Abbey
+Theatre, but from the pen of an Irishman, Lord Dunsany, have come
+such short fantasies as "The Gods of the Mountain" and "The
+Glittering Gate," which the so-called "commercial" theatre has
+quite ignored, but which have been played extensively by amateurs
+and experimental theatres throughout America; and the latter
+piece, especially, has probably been provocative of more
+experimental stagecraft and a greater stimulation of poetic fancy
+among amateur producers than any drama, short or long, written in
+recent years.
+
+When the Washington Square Players, for the most part amateurs of
+the theatre, began their experiment in the spring of 1915, they
+began with a bill of one-act plays. With but two exceptions, all
+their succeeding productions have been composed of one-act plays,
+usually in groups of four, the last one for the evening sometimes
+being a pantomime. (It should be noted that a program of four
+one-act plays  has the unity of a collection. A short play
+following a long one is overbalanced and the program seems to
+most of us awry.) The reason for this choice was not entirely a
+devotion to the art of the one-act play. When players are
+inexperienced, it is far easier to present a group of plays of
+one act than it is to sustain a single set of characters for an
+entire evening. The action moves more rapidly, the tale is told
+before the monotony of the actors becomes too apparent. Moreover,
+the difference between the plays helps to furnish that variety
+which the players themselves cannot supply by their
+impersonations. Still again, it was no doubt easier for the
+Washington Square Players to find novelties within their capacity
+in the one-act form than in the longer medium. At any rate, they
+did produce one-act plays, and are still producing them.
+
+Four of these plays are presented in this book, four which won
+approval first on the stage of the Bandbox Theatre and later,
+acted by other players, in various other theatres. One of them,
+"Overtones," is a theatrical novelty which if prolonged beyond
+the one-act form would become monotonous. Another, "Helena's
+Husband," is a bantering satire, an intellectual "skit," which
+would equally suffer by prolongation.  "Eugenically Speaking"
+could certainly bear no further extension, unless its mood were
+deepened into seriousness. Finally, "The Clod" approaches the
+true episodic roundness of the one-act drama, or the short story,
+in its best estate. Here is a single episode of reality, taken
+from its context and set apart for contemplation. It begins at
+the proper moment for understanding, it ends when the tale is
+told. There is here more than a hint of the art of Guy de
+Maupassant. And the episode is theatrically exciting -- a prime
+requisite for practical performance, and spiritually significant
+-- a prime requisite for the serious consideration of intelligent
+spectators. In these four plays, then, written for the Washington
+Square Players, the one-act form demonstrates its right to our
+attention and cultivation, for it takes interesting ideas or
+situations which are incapable of expansion into longer dramas
+and makes intelligent entertainment of what otherwise would be
+lost.
+
+Because such organizations as the Abbey Theatre have demonstrated
+the value of the one-act play in portraying local life, in
+stimulating a local stage literature; because such organizations
+in America as the Washington Square Players have demonstrated the
+superior value of the one-act play as a weapon with which to win
+recognition and build up the histrionic capacity to tackle longer
+works; and, finally, because the one-act play offers such obvious
+advantages to amateurs, it seems fairly certain that in the
+immediate future, at least, the one-act play in America, as a
+serious art form, will be cultivated by the experimental
+theatres, the so-called "Little Theatres," and by the more
+ambitious and talented amateurs. As our experimental theatres
+increase in number -- and they are increasing -- it will probably
+play its part, and perhaps no insignificant a part, in the
+development of a national drama through the development of a
+local drama and the cultivation of a taste for self-expression in
+various communities. It is only when these experimental theatres
+are sufficient in number, and the amateur spirit has been
+sufficiently aroused in various communities, that the commercial
+theatre of tradition will be seriously influenced. When that time
+comes -- if it does come -- one of the results will undoubtedly
+be a more flexible theatre, the growth of repertoire companies,
+the expansion of the activities of popular players. In a more
+flexible theatre, where repertoire is a rule rather than a
+strange and dreaded experiment, and where actors pride themselves
+on versatility and the public honors them for it, the one-act
+play will again have its place, but not then as a curtain raiser
+or afterpiece, to pad out an evening or "send the suburbs home
+happy," but as a serious branch of dramatic art. In that happy
+day Barrie will not be the only first-class talent in the
+commercial playhouse daring the one-act form, or at least able
+to induce a commercial manager to produce his work in that form.
+
+But that time is not yet. The one-act play in our country to-day
+is an ally of the amateurs and the innovators. For that very
+reason, perhaps, it is the form which will bear the most watching
+for signs of imagination and for flashes of insight and
+interpretative significance. 
+
+WALTER PRICHARD EATON.
+Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE PLAYS
+
+If fools did not rush in where theatrical angels fear to tread,
+this Preface would never have been written. Two years back the
+Washington Square Players were called, by many who had theatrical
+experience, fools. Now some term us pioneers. The future may
+write us fools again, or something better -- the conclusion being
+that the difference between the fool and the pioneer lies in the
+outcome; the secret, that the motive power behind both is
+enthusiasm. 
+
+Without enthusiasm the Washington Square Players could never have
+come into existence, nor survived. From the first, when we had
+barely enough money for rent and none for the costumes and
+properties we borrowed and disguised, ours was an enthusiasm
+strong in quantity as well as quality. The theatre is a peculiar
+art. Both in production and reception it requires numbers and an
+enduring faith. Many a similar attempt has failed because its
+experimentation and expression have been restricted by a single
+point of view. Many have not continued because the desire has
+waned in the face of the hardships and sacrifices entailed. But
+the Players rightly had a plural name. We were, and are, a
+collection of many individuals -- actors, authors, artists, and
+art-lovers -- all fired with the sincere desire to give to
+playgoers something they had not been able previously to find on
+the American stage. And our desire has been strong enough to face
+and fight, and to continue to face and fight, the ever-growing,
+ever-changing problems of finance, art, and human
+inter-relations, which are the inescapable factors of the
+theatre.
+
+We believed in the democracy of the drama. But we understand
+democracy to mean, not the gratification of the taste of the many
+to the exclusion of that of the few, but the satisfaction of all
+tastes. We had no quarrel with the stage as it was, save that
+there wasn't enough of it. We felt there was a public that wanted
+something other than it could get -- as evidenced by the rise of
+such institutions as the Drama League -- and that that public was
+large enough to support what it wanted once it learned where to
+find it. The problem was to bridge the gap of waiting. And it was
+met by the sacrifices of all those who worked at first for
+nothing, and then for little more, so that the Players would not
+fall into debt in the process of reaching an audience. As an able
+New York dramatic critic stated, the establishment of the
+Washington Square Players was merely one more proof that in
+America, as elsewhere, joy was a greater incentive to work than
+money.
+
+This enthusiasm among the workers, both in quality and quantity,
+was generously shared by the spectators. The public which looked
+for plays, acting and producing different from what it could find
+on the regular stage, proved us right in believing that it was
+sufficiently large and interested to warrant our experiment.
+Critics and patrons gave us from the first, and we hope will
+continue to give us, that personal interest and sympathetic
+appreciation which have been among the most vital factors
+contributing to our growth.
+
+So far we have produced thirty-two plays, of one-act and greater
+length, and of these twenty have been American. The emphasis of
+our interest has been placed on the American playwright, because
+we feel that no American theatre can be really successful unless
+it develops a native drama to present and interpret those
+emotions, ideas, characters, and conditions with which we, as
+Americans, are primarily concerned.
+
+Of these twenty American plays the Drama League has selected four
+for this volume of its series. Excluding comment on my farce --
+for an author is notoriously unfit to judge his own work -- I
+think it may be said that these represent a fair example of the
+success the Players have met with in trying to encourage the
+writing of American plays with "freshness and sincerity of theme
+and development; skilful delineation of character; non-didactic
+presentation of an idea; and dramatic and esthetic effectiveness
+without theatricalism." They are the early products of a new
+movement in the American theatre of which we are happy to be a
+part, and if their publication meets with the sympathetic,
+appreciative reception that has been accorded their production,
+we feel and hope that not only these authors, not only the
+Washington Square Players, but all of the workers in this new
+movement will be encouraged and stimulated to a further effort, a
+greater mastery, and a bigger achievement.
+
+EDWARD GOODMAN,
+Director of the Washington Square Players.
+Comedy Theatre, New York, 1916.
+
+
+I. THE CLOD
+A One-Act Play
+by
+LEWIS BEACH,
+
+Copyright, 1914, by
+Emmet Lewis Beach, Jr.
+
+(Note -- The author acknowledges indebtedness to "The Least of
+These," by Donal Hamilton Haines, a short story which suggested
+the play.)
+
+"The Clod" was produced by the Washington Square Players, under
+the direction of Holland Hudson, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York
+City, beginning January 10, 1916.
+
+In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the
+following:
+
+MARY TRASK   .  .  .  . Josephine A. Meyer
+THADDEUS TRASK  .  .  . John King
+A NORTHERN SOLDIER .  . Glenn Hunter
+A SOUTHERN SERGEANT   . Robert Strange
+A SOUTHERN PRIVATE .  . Spalding Hall
+
+The Scene was designed by John King.
+
+The   Clod" was  subsequently revived by the Washington  Square
+Players at the Comedy Theatre, New  York  City, beginning June 5,
+1916. In this production Mary  Morris played the part of Mary
+Trask.
+
+Later it was presented in vaudeville by Martin Beck, opening at
+the Palace Theatre, New York City, August 21, 1916, with the
+following cast:
+
+MARY TRASK  .  .  .  .    Sarah Padden
+THADDEUS TRASK .  .  .    John Cameron
+A NORTHERN SOLDIER   .    Glenn Hunter
+A SOUTHERN SERGEANT  .    Thomas Hamilton
+A SOUTHERN PRIVATE   .    Gordon Gunnis
+
+"The  Clod" was  first produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, in
+March, 1914, with the cast as follows:
+
+MARY TRASK  .  .  .  .   Christine Hayes
+THADDEUS TRASK .  .  .   Norman B. Clark
+A NORTHERN SOLDIER. .   Dale Kennedy
+A SOUTHERN SERGEANT  .   James W. D. Seymour
+DICK  .  .  .  .  .  .   Richard Southgate
+
+
+THE CLOD
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+THADDEUS TRASK
+MARY TRASK
+A NORTHERN SOLDIER
+A SOUTHERN SERGEANT
+DICK
+
+-------
+
+SCENE: The kitchen of a farmhouse on the borderline between the
+Southern and Northern states.
+TIME:  Ten o'clock in the evening, September, 1863.
+
+The back wall is broken at stage left by the projection at right
+angles of a partially enclosed staircase, four steps of which,
+leading to the landing, are visible to the audience. Underneath
+the enclosed stairway is a cubby-hole with a door; in front of
+the door stands a small table. To the left of this table is a
+kitchen chair. A door leading to the yard is in the centre of the
+unbroken wall back; to the right of the door, a cupboard, to the
+left, a stove. In the wall right are two windows. Between them is
+a bench, on which there are a pail and a dipper; above the bench
+a towel hanging on a nail, and above the towel a double-barrelled
+shot-gun suspended on two pegs.
+
+In the wall left, and well down stage, is a closed door leading
+to another room. In the centre of the kitchen stands a large
+table; to the right and left of this, two straight-backed chairs.
+
+The walls are roughly plastered. The stage is lighted by the
+moon, which shines into the room through the windows, and a
+candle on table centre. When the door back is opened, a glimpse
+of a desolate farmyard is seen in the moonlight.
+
+When the curtain rises, THADDEUS TRASK, a man of fifty or sixty
+years of age, short and thick set, slow in speech and movement,
+yet in perfect health, sits lazily smoking his pipe in a chair at
+the right of the centre table.
+
+After a moment, MARY TRASK, a tired, emaciated woman, whose years
+equal her husband's, enters from the yard, carrying a pail of
+water and a lantern. She puts the pail on the bench and hangs the
+lantern above it; then crosses to the stove.
+
+MARY. Ain't got wood 'nough fer breakfast, Thad.
+
+THADDEUS. I'm too tired to go out now; wait till mornin'.
+
+[Pause. MARY lays the fire in the stove.]
+
+Did I tell ye that old man Reed saw three Southern troopers pass
+his house this mornin'?
+
+MARY [takes coffee pot from stove, crosses to bench, fills pot
+with water]. I wish them soldiers would git out o' the
+neighborhood. Whenever I see 'em passin', I have t' steady myself
+'gainst somethin' or I'd fall. I couldn't hardly breathe
+yesterday when the Southerners came after fodder. I'd die if they
+spoke t' me.
+
+THADDEUS. Ye needn't be afraid of Northern soldiers.
+
+MARY [puts coffee pot on stove]. I hate 'em all -- Union or
+Southern. I can't make head or tail t' what all this fightin's
+'bout. An' I don't care who wins, so long as they git through,
+an' them soldiers stop stealin' our corn an' potatoes.
+
+THADDEUS. Ye can't hardly blame 'em if they're hungry, ken ye?
+
+MARY. It ain't right that they should steal from us poor folk.
+[Lifts a huge gunny sack of potatoes from the table and begins
+setting the table for breakfast, getting knives, forks, spoons,
+plates, cups, and saucers -- two of each -- from the cupboard.]
+We have hard 'nough times t' make things meet now. I ain't set
+down onct to-day, 'cept fer meals; an' when I think o' the work I
+got t' do t'morrow, I ought t' been in bed hours ago.
+
+THADDEUS. I'd help if I could, but it ain't my fault if the Lord
+see'd fit t' lay me up, so I'm always ailin'. [Rises lazily.] Ye
+better try an' take things easy t'morrow.
+
+MARY. It's well 'nough t' say, but them apples got t' be picked
+an' the rest o' the potatoes sorted. If I could sleep at night
+it'd be all right, but with them soldiers 'bout, I can't.
+
+THADDEUS [crosses to right; fondly handles his double-barrelled
+shot-gun]. Jolly, wish I'd see a flock o' birds.
+
+MARY [showing nervousness]. I'd rather go without than hear ye
+fire. I wish ye didn't keep it loaded.
+
+THADDEUS. Ye know I ain't got time t' stop an' load when I see
+the birds. They  don't wait fer ye. [Hangs gun on wall, drops
+into his chair, dejectedly.] Them pigs has got to be butchered.
+
+MARY. Wait till I git a chance t' go t' sister's. I can't stand
+it t' hear 'em squeal.
+
+THADDEUS [pulling off his boots, grunting meanwhile]. Best go
+soon then, 'cause they's fat as they'll ever be, an' there ain't
+no use in wastin' feed on 'em. [Pause, rises.] Ain't ye most
+ready fer bed?
+
+MARY. Go on up.
+
+[THADDEUS takes candle in one hand, boots in other; moves toward
+stairs.]
+
+An', Thad, try not t' snore to-night.
+
+THADDEUS [reaching the landing]. Hit me if I do. [Disappears from
+view.]
+
+[MARY fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove;
+closes the door back; takes the lantern from the wall, tries
+twice before she succeeds in blowing it out. Puts the lantern on
+the table before the cubby-hole. Drags herself up the stairs,
+pausing a moment on the top step for breath before she disappears
+from sight. There is a silence. Then the door back is opened a
+trifle and a man's hand is seen. Cautiously the door is opened
+wide, and a young NORTHERN SOLDIER is silhouetted on the
+threshold. He wears a dirty uniform and has a bloody bandage tied
+about his head. He is wounded, sick, and exhausted. He stands at
+the door a moment, listening intently; then hastily crosses to
+the centre table looking for food. He bumps against the chair and
+mutters an oath. Finding nothing on the table, he moves toward
+the cupboard. Suddenly the galloping of horses is heard in the
+distance. The NORTHERNER starts; then rushes to the window nearer
+the audience. For a moment the sound ceases, then it begins
+again, growing gradually louder and louder. The NORTHERNER
+hurries through the door left. Horses and voices are heard, in
+the yard, and almost immediately heavy thundering knocks sound on
+the door back. A racket is heard above stairs. The knockers on
+the door grow impatient, and push the door open. A large,
+powerful SOUTHERN SERGEANT and a smaller, more youthful TROOPER
+of the same army enter. At the same time, THADDEUS appears on the
+stairs, carrying a candle.]
+
+SERGEANT [to THADDEUS; not unkindly]. Sorry, my friend, but you
+were so darn slow 'bout openin' the door, that we had to walk in.
+Has there been a Northern soldier round here to-day?
+
+THADDEUS [timidly]. I ain't seed one.
+
+SERGEANT. Have you been here all day?
+
+THADDEUS. I ain't stirred from the place.
+
+SERGEANT. Call the rest of your family down.
+
+THADDEUS. My wife's all there is. [Goes to foot of stairs, and
+calls loudly and excitedly.] Mary! Mary! Come down right off.
+
+SERGEANT. You better not lie to me or it'll go tough with you.
+
+THADDEUS. I swear I ain't seed no one.
+
+[MARY comes downstairs slowly. She is all atremble.]
+
+THADDEUS. Say, Mary, you was h ----
+
+SERGEANT. You keep still, man. I'll question her myself. [To
+MARY.] You were here at the house all day?
+
+[MARY is very fearful and embarrassed, but after a moment manages
+to nod her head slowly.]
+You didn't take a trip down to the store?
+[MARY shakes her head slowly.]
+Haven't you got a tongue?
+
+MARY [with difficulty]. Y-e-s.
+
+SERGEANT. Then use it. The Northern soldier who came here a while
+ago was pretty badly wounded, wasn't he?
+
+MARY. I -- I -- no one's been here.
+
+SERGEANT. Come, come, woman, don't lie.
+[MARY shows a slight sign of anger.]
+He had a bad cut in his forehead, and you felt sorry for him, and
+gave him a bite to eat.
+
+MARY [haltingly]. No one's been near the house to-day.
+
+SERGEANT [trying a different tone]. We're not going to hurt him,
+woman.  He's a friend of ours. We want to find him, and put him
+in a hospital, don't we, Dick? [Turning to his companion.]
+
+DICK. He's sick and needs to go to bed for a while.
+
+MARY. He ain't here.
+
+SERGEANT. What do you want to lie for?
+
+MARY [quickly]. I ain't lyin'. I ain't seed no soldier.
+
+THADDEUS. No one could 'a' come without her seein' 'em.
+
+SERGEANT. I suppose you know what'll happen to you if you are
+hidin' the man?
+[MARY stands rooted to the spot where she stopped when she came
+downstairs. Her eyes are fixed on the SERGEANT.]
+
+THADDEUS. There ain't no one here. We both been here all day, an'
+there couldn't no one come without our knowin' it. What would
+they want round here anyway?
+
+SERGEANT. We'll search the place.
+
+MARY [quickly]. Ye ain't got no ----
+
+SERGEANT [sharply]. What's that, woman?
+
+MARY. There ain't no one here, an' ye're keepin' us from our
+sleep.
+
+SERGEANT. Your sleep? This is an affair of life and death. Get us
+a lantern.
+
+[THADDEUS moves to the table which stands in front of the
+cubby-hole, and lights the lantern from the candle which he holds
+in his hand. He hands the lantern to the SERGEANT.]
+
+SERGEANT [seeing the door to the cubby-hole]. Ha! Tryin' to hide
+the door are you, by puttin' a table in front of it. You can't
+fool me. [To THADDEUS.] Pull the table away and let's see what's
+behind the door.
+
+THADDEUS. It's a cubby-hole an' ain't been opened in years.
+
+SERGEANT [sternly and emphatically]. I said to open the door.
+
+[THADDEUS sets the candle on the larger table, moves the smaller
+table to the right, and opens the door to the cubby-hole. Anger
+is seen on MARY'S face. The SERGEANT takes a long-barrelled
+revolver from his belt, and peers into the cubby-hole. He sees
+nothing.]
+
+SERGEANT [returning his revolver to his belt]. We're goin' to
+tear this place to pieces till we find him. You might just as
+well hand him over now.
+
+MARY. There ain't no one here.
+
+SERGEANT. All right. Now we'll see. Dick, you stand guard at the
+door.
+
+[DICK goes to the door back, and stands gazing out into the night
+-- his back to the audience.]
+
+SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, man. I'll have a look at the
+upstairs. [To MARY.] You sit down in that chair [points to the
+chair at right of table, and feeling for a sufficiently strong
+threat]. Don't you stir or I'll -- I'll set fire to your house.
+[To THADDEUS.] Go on ahead.
+
+[THADDEUS and the SERGEANT go upstairs. MARY sinks almost
+lifelessly into the chair. She is the picture of fear. She sits
+facing left. Suddenly she leans forward. The door left is being
+opened. She opens her eyes wide and draws her breath sharply. She
+opens her mouth as though she would scream, but makes no sound.
+The NORTHERNER comes slowly and cautiously through the door.
+(DICK cannot see him because of the jog in the wall.) MARY only
+stares in bewilderment at the NORTHERNER, as the man, with eyes
+fixed appealingly on her, opens the door to the cubby-hole and
+crawls inside.]
+
+DICK. Woman!
+
+MARY [almost with a cry -- thinking that DICK has seen the
+NORTHERNER]. Yes.
+
+DICK. Have you got an apple handy? I'm starved. [MARY moves to
+the cupboard to get the apple for DICK. The SERGEANT and THADDEUS
+come downstairs. The SERGEANT, seeing that MARY is not where he
+left her, looks about quickly and discovers her at the cupboard.]
+
+SERGEANT. Here, what'd I tell you I'd do if you moved from that
+chair?
+
+MARY [with great fear]. Oh, I didn't -- I only -- he wanted ----
+
+DICK. It's all right, Sergeant. I asked her to get me an apple.
+
+SERGEANT. Dick, take this lantern and search the barn.
+[DICK takes the lantern from the SERGEANT and goes out back.]
+[To THADDEUS.] Come in here with me. [Takes the candle from
+centre table.] [The SERGEANT and THADDEUS move toward the door
+left. As though in a stupor, MARY starts to follow.] Sit down!
+[MARY falls into the chair at the right of the centre table. The
+SERGEANT and THADDEUS go into the room at left. They can be heard
+moving furniture about. MARY'S eyes fall on a pin on the floor.
+She bends over, picks it up, and fastens it in her belt. The
+SERGEANT and THADDEUS return.]
+
+SERGEANT. If I find him now, after all the trouble you've given
+me, you know what'll happen. There's likely to be two dead men
+and a woman, instead of only the Yankee.
+
+DICK [bounding into the room]. Sergeant!
+
+SERGEANT. What is it? [DICK hurries to the SERGEANT and says
+something in a low voice to him. Satisfaction shows on the
+latter's face.]
+
+SERGEANT. Now my good people, how did that horse get here?
+
+THADDEUS. What horse?
+
+
+DICK. There's a horse in the barn with a saddle on his back. I
+swear he's been ridden lately.
+
+THADDEUS [amazed]. There is?
+
+SERGEANT. You know it. [To MARY.] Come, woman, who drove that
+horse here?
+
+MARY [silent for a moment -- her eyes on the floor]. I don't
+know. I didn't hear nothin'.
+
+THADDEUS [moving in the direction of the door back]. Let me go
+an' see.
+
+SERGEANT [pushing THADDEUS back]. No, you don't. You two have
+done enough to justify the harshest measures. Show us the man's
+hiding-place.
+
+THADDEUS. If there's anybody here, he's come in the night without
+our knowin' it. I tell ye I didn't see anybody, an' she didn't,
+an' ---- 
+
+SERGEANT [has been watching MARY]. Where is he? [The SERGEANT'S
+tone makes THADDEUS jump. There is a pause, during which MARY
+seems trying to compose herself. Then slowly, she lifts her eyes
+and looks at the SERGEANT.]
+
+MARY. There ain't nobody in the house 'cept us two.
+
+SERGEANT [to DICK]. Did you search all the outbuildings?
+
+DICK. Yes. There's not a trace of him except the horse.
+
+SERGEANT [wiping the perspiration from his face; speaks with
+apparent deliberation at first, but increases to great strength
+and emphasis]. He didn't have much of a start of us, and I think
+he was wounded. A farmer down the road said he heard hoof-beats.
+The man the other side of you heard nothing, and the horse is in
+your barn. [Slowly draws revolver, and points it at THADDEUS.]
+There are ways of making people confess.
+
+THADDEUS [covering his face with his hands]. For God's sake,
+don't. I know that horse looks bad -- but as I live I ain't heard
+a sound, or seen anybody. I'd give the man up in a minute if he
+was here.
+
+SERGEANT [lowering his gun]. Yes, I guess you would. You wouldn't
+want me to hand you and your wife over to our army to be shot
+down like dogs. [MARY shivers.] [Swings round sharply, and points
+the gun at MARY.] Your wife knows where he's hid.
+
+MARY [breaking out in irritating, rasping voice]. I'm sure I wish
+I did. An' I'd tell ye quick, an' git ye out of here. 'Tain't no
+fun fer me to have ye prowlin' all over my house. Ye ain't got no
+right t' torment me like this. Lord knows how I'll git my day's
+work done, if I can't have my sleep.
+
+SERGEANT [has been gazing at her in astonishment; lowers his
+gun]. Good God, what a clod! Nothing but her own petty existence.
+[In different voice to MARY.] I'll have to ask you to get us
+something to eat. We're famished. [With relief, but showing some
+anger, MARY turns to the stove. She lights the fire, and puts
+more coffee in the pot.]
+
+SERGEANT. Come, Dick, we better give our poor horses some water.
+They're all tired out. [In lower voice.] The man isn't here. If
+he were, he couldn't get away while we're in the yard. [To
+THADDEUS.] Get us a pail to give the horses some water. [Sees the
+pails on the bench. Picks one of them up and moves toward the
+door.]
+
+MARY. That ain't the horses' pail.
+
+SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, you can help.
+
+MARY [louder]. That's the drinkin' water pail.
+
+SERGEANT. That's all right.
+
+[The SERGEANT, DICK, and THADDEUS go out back. MARY needs more
+wood for the fire, so she follows them in a moment. When she 
+has disappeared, the NORTHERNER drags himself from the
+cubby-hole. He looks as though he would fall with exhaustion.
+MARY returns with an armful of wood.]
+
+MARY [sees the NORTHERNER. Shows no sympathy for the man in this
+speech, nor during the entire scene]. Ye git back! Them
+soldiers'll see ye.
+
+NORTHERNER. Some water. Quick. [Falls into chair at left of
+table.] It was so hot in there.
+
+MARY [gives him water in the dipper]. Don't ye faint here. If
+them soldiers git ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Hustle an' git
+back in the cubby-hole. [MARY turns quickly to the stove. The
+NORTHERNER drinks the water; puts dipper on table, then,
+summoning all his strength, rises and crosses to MARY. He touches
+her on the shoulder. MARY is so startled, that she jumps and
+utters a faint cry.]
+
+NORTHERNER. Be still, or they'll hear you. How are you going to
+get me out of this?
+
+MARY [angrily]. Ye git out. Why did ye come here, a-bringin' me
+all this extra work, an' maybe death?
+
+NORTHERNER. I couldn't go any farther. My horse and I were both
+near dropping. Won't you help me?
+
+MARY. No, I won't. I don't know who ye are or nothin' 'bout ye,
+'cept that them men want t' ketch ye. [In a changed tone of
+curiosity.] Did ye steal somethin' from 'em?
+
+NORTHERNER. Don't you understand? Those men belong to the
+Confederacy, and I'm a Northerner. They've been chasing me all
+day. [Pulling a bit of crumpled paper from his breast.] They want
+this paper. If they get it before to-morrow morning it will mean
+the greatest disaster that's ever come to the Union army.
+
+MARY [with frank curiosity]. Was it ye rode by yesterday?
+
+NORTHERNER. Don't you see what you can do? Get me out of here and
+away from those men, and you'll have done more than any soldier
+could do for the country -- for your country.
+
+MARY. I ain't got no country. Me an' Thad's only got this farm.
+Thad's ailin', an' I do most the work, an' ----
+
+NORTHERNER. The lives of thirty thousand men hang by a thread. I
+must save them. And you must help me.
+
+MARY. I don't know nothin' 'bout ye, an' I don't know what ye're
+talkin' 'bout.
+
+NORTHERNER. Only help me get away.
+
+MARY [angrily]. No one ever helped me or Thad. I lift no finger
+in this business. Why ye come here in the first place is beyond
+me -- sneakin' round our house, spoilin' our well-earned sleep.
+If them soldiers ketch ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Maybe ye
+didn't know that.
+
+NORTHERNER. What's your life and your husband's compared to
+thirty thousand! I haven't any money or I'd give it to you.
+
+MARY. I don't want yer money.
+
+NORTHERNER. What do you want?
+
+MARY. I want ye t' git away. I don't care what happens t' ye.
+Only git out of here.
+
+NORTHERNER. I can't with the Southerners in the yard. They'd
+shoot me like a dog. Besides, I've got to have my horse.
+
+MARY [with naive curiosity]. What kind o' lookin'
+horse is it?
+
+NORTHERNER [dropping into chair at left of centre table in
+disgust and despair]. O God! If I'd only turned in at the other
+farm. I might have found people with red blood. [Pulls out his
+gun, and hopelessly opens the empty chamber.]
+
+MARY [alarmed]. What ye goin' t' do with that gun?
+
+NORTHERNER. Don't be afraid. It's not load ----
+
+MARY. I'd call 'em in, if I wasn't ----
+
+NORTHERNER [leaping to the wall left and bracing himself against
+it]. Go call them in. Save your poor skin and your husband's if
+you can. Call them in. You can't save yourself. [Laughs
+hysterically.] You can't save your miserable skin. Cause if they
+get me, and don't shoot you, I will.
+
+MARY [leans against left side of centre table for support; in
+agony]. Oh!
+
+NORTHERNER. You see, you've got to help me whether you want to or
+not.
+
+MARY [feeling absolutely caught]. I ain't done nothin'. I don't
+see why ye an' them others come here a threatenin' t' shoot me. I
+don't want nothin'. I don't want t' do nothin'. I jest want ye
+all t' git out a here an' leave me an' Thad t' go t' sleep. Oh, I
+don't know what t' do. Ye got me in a corner where I can't move.
+[Passes her hand back along the table. Touches the dipper
+accidentally, and it falls to the floor. Screams at the sound.]
+
+NORTHERNER [leaping toward her]. Now you've done it. They'll be
+here in a minute. You can't give me up. They'll shoot you if you
+do. They'll shoot. [Hurries up the stairs, and disappears from
+sight.]
+
+[MARY stands beside the table, trembling terribly. The SERGEANT,
+DICK, and THADDEUS come running in.]
+
+SERGEANT. What did you yell for?
+[No answer.]
+[Seizing her by the arm.] Answer!
+
+MARY. I knocked the dipper off the table. It scared me.
+
+SERGEANT [dropping wearily into chair at left of centre table].
+Well, don't drop our breakfast. Put it on the table. We're ready.
+
+MARY [stands gazing at him]. It ain't finished.
+
+OFFICER [worn out by his day's work and MARY'S stupidity, from
+now on absolutely brutish]. You've had time to cook a dozen
+meals. You're as slow as a snail. What did you do all the time we
+were in the barn?
+
+MARY. I didn't do nothin'.
+
+SERGEANT. You lazy female. Now get a move on, and give us
+something fit to eat. Don't try to get rid of any left-overs on
+us. If you do, you'll suffer for it.
+
+[MARY stands looking at him.]
+Don't you know anything, you brainless farm-drudge? Hurry, I
+said.
+
+[MARY turns to the stove. THADDEUS sits in chair at left of
+smaller table.]
+
+DICK. What a night. My stomach's as hollow as these people's
+heads. [Takes towel which hangs above the bench and wipes the
+barrel of his gun with it.]
+
+MARY [sees DICK]. That's one of my best towels.
+
+DICK. Can't help it.
+
+SERGEANT. 'Tend to the breakfast. That's enough for you to do at
+one time.
+
+[DICK puts his gun on the smaller table, and sits at right of
+centre table.]
+
+SERGEANT [quietly to DICK]. I don't see how he gave us the slip.
+
+DICK. He knew we were after him, and drove his horse in here, and
+went on afoot. Clever scheme, I must admit.
+
+THADDEUS [endeavoring to get them into conversation]. Have ye rid
+far to-night, misters?
+
+DICK [shortly]. Far enough.
+
+THADDEUS. Twenty miles or so?
+
+DICK. Perhaps.
+
+THADDEUS. How long ye been chasin' the critter?
+
+SERGEANT. Shut up, man! Don't you see we don't want to talk to
+you. Take hold and hurry, woman. My patience's at an end.
+
+[MARY puts a loaf of bread, some fried eggs, and a coffee pot on
+the table.]
+
+MARY. There! I hope ye're satisfied.
+
+[The SERGEANT and DICK pull their chairs to the table, and begin
+to eat.]
+
+SERGEANT. Is this all we get? Come, it won't do you any good to
+be stingy.
+[Obviously, from now on, everything the SERGEANT says drives MARY
+nearer madness.]
+
+MARY. It's all I got.
+
+SERGEANT. It isn't a mouthful for a chickadee! Give us some
+butter.
+
+MARY. There ain't none.
+
+SERGEANT. No butter on a farm? God, the way you lie!
+
+MARY. I --
+
+SERGEANT. Shut up!
+
+DICK. Have you got any cider?
+
+SERGEANT. Don't ask. She and the man probably drank themselves
+stupid on it. [Throws fork on floor.] I never struck such a place
+in my life. Get me another fork. How do you expect me to eat with
+that bent thing?
+
+[MARY stoops with difficulty and picks up the fork. Gets another
+from the cupboard and gives it to the SERGEANT.]
+
+SERGEANT. Now give us some salt. Don't you know that folks eat it
+on eggs?
+
+[MARY crosses to the cupboard; mistakes the pepper for the salt,
+and puts it on the table.]
+
+SERGEANT [sprinkles pepper on his food]. I said salt, woman!
+[Spelling.] S-A-L-T. Salt! Salt!
+
+[MARY goes to the cupboard; returns to the table with the salt.
+Almost ready to drop, she drags herself to the window nearer
+back, and leans against it, watching the SOUTHERNERS like a
+hunted animal. THADDEUS sits nodding in the corner. The SERGEANT
+and DICK go on devouring the food. The SERGEANT pours the coffee.
+Puts his cup to his lips, takes one swallow; then, jumping to his
+feet and upsetting his chair as he does so, he hurls his cup to
+the floor. The crash of china stirs THADDEUS. MARY shakes in
+terror.]
+
+SERGEANT [bellowing and pointing to the fluid trickling on the
+floor]. Have you tried to poison us, you God damn hag?
+
+[MARY screams, and the faces of the men turn white. It is like
+the cry of the animal goaded beyond endurance.]
+
+MARY [screeching]. Call my coffee poison, will ye? Call me a hag?
+I'll learn ye! I'm a woman, and ye're drivin' me crazy. [Snatches
+the gun from the wall, points it at the SERGEANT, and fires.
+Keeps on screeching. The SERGEANT falls to the floor. DICK rushes
+for his gun.]
+
+THADDEUS. Mary! Mary!
+
+MARY [aiming at DICK, and firing]. I ain't a hag, I'm a woman,
+but ye're killin' me.
+
+[DICK falls just as he reaches his gun. THADDEUS is in the corner
+with his hands over his ears. The NORTHERNER stands on the
+stairs. MARY continues to pull the trigger of the empty gun. The
+NORTHERNER is motionless for a moment; then he goes to THADDEUS,
+and shakes him.]
+
+NORTHERNER. Go get my horse, quick!
+
+[THADDEUS obeys. The NORTHERNER turns to MARY. She gazes at him,
+but does not understand a word he says.]
+
+NORTHERNER [with great fervor]. I'm ashamed of what I said. The
+whole country will hear of this, and you. [Takes her hand, and
+presses it to his lips; then turns and hurries out of the house.
+MARY still holds the gun in her hand. She pushes a strand of gray
+hair back from her face, and begins to pick up the fragments of
+the broken coffee cup.]
+
+MARY [in dead, flat tone]. I'll have to drink out the tin cup
+now.
+
+[The hoof-beats of the NORTHERNER'S horse are heard.]
+
+Curtain.
+
+
+
+II. EUGENICALLY SPEAKING
+
+A One-Act Play
+By
+EDWARD GOODMAN
+
+Copyright, 1914, by Edward Goodman
+
+"Eugenically Speaking" was produced by the Washington Square
+Players, under the direction of Philip Moeller, as part of their
+first program at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, beginning
+February 19, 1915.
+
+In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the
+following:
+
+UNA BRAITHEWAITE  .  .  .  Florence Enright
+GEORGE COXEY   .  .  .  .  Karl Karsten
+MR. BRAITHEWAITE  .  .  .  George C. Somnes
+JARVIS a manservant  .  .  Ralph Roeder
+
+The scene was designed by Engelbert Gminska and Miss Enright's
+costume by Mrs. Edward Flammer.
+
+"Eugenically Speaking" was subsequently revived by the Washington
+Square Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning
+August 30, 1916. In this production Arthur Hohl played the part
+of George Coxey; Robert Strange, Wm. Braithewaite; and Spalding
+Hall, Jarvis.
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+UNA  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  A girl
+GEORGE COXEY  .  .  .  .  .  A conductor
+MR. BRAITHEWAITE .  .  .  .  A financier
+JARVIS  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  A butler
+
+TIME: Between to-day and to-morrow.
+SCENE:A room in the Braithewaite mansion, richly but tastefully
+furnished. Among these furnishings it is necessary for the play
+to note, besides the door at the back, only the table that stands
+a little to the right of the centre of the room, with a 
+statue on it, and three chairs which stand, one to the right, one
+to the left, and one in the middle. It is a winter afternoon, and
+the room is illuminated by invisible lights.
+
+Enter UNA, followed by GEORGE COXEY. UNA is a charming,
+fashionable girl of twenty with a suave blend of will and poise.
+GEORGE COXEY is a handsome, well-built, magnetic-looking youth of
+about twenty-five. He is dressed in the garb of a street-car
+conductor and carries the cap in his hand. Although somewhat
+inconvenienced and preoccupied with the novelty of his
+surroundings and his situation, he remains, in the main, in
+excellent self-possession, an occasional twinkle in his eye
+showing that he is even quietly alive to a certain humor in the
+adventure. Above all, his attitude is that rare one, which we
+like to feel typical of American youth, of facing an unusual
+situation firmly, and seeing and grasping its possibilities
+quickly.
+
+He stands near the door, waiting, examining the room and warming
+his hands, while UNA goes to the bell and rings it and then
+proceeds to the mirror to primp a little. When she is finished
+she turns and notices him.
+
+UNA. Why, my dear man, sit down. [She points to a chair at the
+right.]
+
+GEORGE. Thanks, after you.
+
+UNA [laughs]. Oh! Excuse me. I forgot. You're a car conductor.
+Naturally you're polite.
+
+GEORGE. Not naturally, Miss. But I've learned.
+
+UNA. An apt pupil, too. Let me teach you then that the ruder you
+are to a woman, the more she'll hate you -- or love you. [She
+goes up to him and invites him with a gesture.] Sit down.
+
+[GEORGE remains immobile.]
+The polite are not only bourgeois, they're boring.
+
+GEORGE. When I know I'm right, I stick to it.
+
+UNA. But you must grow tired of standing.
+
+GEORGE. If I did, I'd lose my job.
+
+UNA. You have already. Sit down.
+
+GEORGE [firmly]. After you.
+
+UNA [taking the chair, centre, and sitting on it]. You're
+splendid. Now!
+
+[GEORGE sits in the offered chair a little stiffly.]
+
+UNA. Isn't that better than ringing up fares?
+
+GEORGE [smiling at his attempt at a pun]. Fairly.
+
+UNA [rising, perturbed]. No! You mustn't do that. That's vulgar.
+
+GEORGE [rising in alarm]. What have I done?
+
+UNA [vexed again]. Sit down. You mustn't jump up when I do.
+[He remains standing. Vexed but smiling she sits.] Well, there!
+[He sits down.] You punned! You mustn't. We all like puns, but
+it's good form to call them bad taste.
+
+[Enter JARVIS the Butler.]
+
+JARVIS [starts slightly at perceiving the situation,
+but controls himself]. Did you ring for me, Miss?
+
+UNA. Yes. Please tell my father that I'd like to see him at once.
+                      
+[JARVIS goes out.]
+
+UNA. Do you know the reason that you are here?
+
+GEORGE. The hundred dollars you gave me.
+
+UNA. No ----
+
+GEORGE. Yes. I wouldn't have left my job if you hadn't given me
+that.
+
+UNA. I suppose not. But I mean, do you know why I brought you
+here?
+
+GEORGE. I'm waiting to see.
+
+UNA [enthusiastically]. I wonder if you'll like it.
+
+GEORGE. Your father?
+
+UNA. No. Dad's a dear. That is, he is when he sees you mean
+business.
+
+[Enter  MR. BRAITHEWAITE. He is a well-preserved man near sixty,
+almost always completely master of himself. On seeing COXEY he,
+too, gives a little start and then controls himself.]
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Una, dear?
+
+UNA [jumping up in excitement]. Oh, Daddy! I'm so glad you were
+in. [To GEORGE who has risen, too.] Keep your seat. Draw up a
+chair, Dad -- I've done it.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Done what?
+
+UNA [bringing up a chair and placing it to her right]. Do sit
+down, Dad. He's so delicious. He won't sit down till we do -- and
+you know how much they have to stand.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [looks at GEORGE and UNA and then sits in the chair
+allotted to him, whereupon UNA sits in hers and then GEORGE sits
+down]. Now, dear, what is it you have done?
+
+UNA. Selected a husband.
+
+[GEORGE moves a little uneasily. BRAITHEWAITE looks at GEORGE and
+then speaks to UNA.]
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. You mean?
+
+UNA [pointing to GEORGE]. Him! [GEORGE rises in discomfiture.]
+Do sit down. We're all sitting now, you see.
+[GEORGE brings himself to sit down again.]
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. But, my dear ----
+
+UNA. Now don't say a word until you hear the whole story. You
+read that article by Shaw in the Metropolitan, didn't you? I did.
+You remember what he wrote? "The best eugenic guide is the sex
+attraction -- the Voice of Nature." He thinks the trouble is at
+present that we dare not marry out of our own sphere. But I'll
+show you exactly what he says. [She fusses in her handbag and
+pulls out a sheet of a magazine which she unfolds as she says:] I
+always carry the article with me. It's so stimulating.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [protesting]. You're not going to read me a whole
+Shaw article, are you? It's five o'clock now and we've a dinner
+date at eight, dear.
+
+UNA. It's a Shaw article, not a Shaw preface. However, I'll only
+read the passage I've marked. Listen. [She reads.] "I do not
+believe you will ever have any improvement in the human race
+until you greatly widen the area of possible sexual selection;
+until you make it as wide as the numbers of the community make
+it. Just consider what occurs at the present time. I walk down
+Oxford Street, let me say, as a young man." He might just as well
+have said, "young woman," you know.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. And?
+
+UNA [continues reading], "I see a woman who takes my fancy." With
+me it would be a man, of course.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. For your purpose, of course.
+
+UNA [continuing again]. "I fall in love with her. It would seem
+very sensible in an intelligent community that I should take off
+my hat and say to this lady: 'Will you excuse me; but you attract
+me strongly, and if you are not already engaged, would you mind
+taking my name and address and considering whether you would care
+to marry me?' [BRAITHEWAITE looks uncomfortably at GEORGE who
+looks uncomfortable, though amused, himself.] Now I have no such
+chance at present."
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Exactly. You see, he admits it.
+
+UNA. Yes, but why shouldn't I have the chance? That set me
+thinking. I decided he was right. I am intelligent, am I not?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I refuse to commit myself, dear, until I hear all
+your story.
+
+UNA. Well, I decided I'd make the chance. You see, I -- I've been
+led to think recently that I ought to be getting married.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. May I ask why?
+
+UNA. Yes, dear, but I'd rather not answer.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I beg pardon.
+
+UNA. And when I looked about me for the possibilities in my own
+set, I -- [she makes a face] -- well, I wasn't attracted.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I admit, in society, as a rule, the women grow
+stronger and the men weaker.
+
+UNA. Exactly. And I knew you wanted to be a proud grandfather.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. You're mistaken, dear. I hadn't given the subject
+any thought; so I had no desires.
+
+UNA. Well, I have . . . [BRAITHEWAITE slightly shows that he is
+perhaps shocked. UNA notices this and continues in explanation]
+given the subject a good deal of thought. I've spent days buying
+second-hand clothing to give away at the missions and lodging
+houses in order to have a look.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. At least there was charity in that.
+
+UNA. Yes. You see I didn't want charity to have to begin at my
+home. Self-preservation is the first law of Nature.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. And self-propagation, I suppose, the second.
+
+UNA. Well -- the missions were no good. They were all so starved
+and pinched-looking there I couldn't tell what they'd be like if
+they got proper nourishment. And I didn't want to take a chance.
+So I went to some coal yards.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. To find the devil not so black as painted?
+
+UNA [with a grimace]. Blacker! I couldn't see what they looked
+like. Of course if I could have asked them to wash their faces.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [looking at GEORGE]. Considering what you have done,
+I don't see ----
+
+UNA. I did ask one, but he made some vulgar remark about black
+dirt and red paint. So I left him.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. And then?
+
+UNA. I spent all to-day riding up and down town in street cars.
+It's very fascinating, Dad. All you can see for a nickel! I never
+realized what a public benefactor you were.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [modestly]. Oh, I am amply repaid.
+
+UNA [in explanation to GEORGE]. Dad's the president of your
+traction company, you know. [GEORGE rises in fright.]
+Oh, that's all right. I've lost you your job, but I'll get you a
+better one as I promised. Don't be afraid of Dad -- in the
+parlor. Sit down.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [to GEORGE]. You might as well make yourself
+physically comfortable, you know. There's no telling how my
+daughter may make us feel in other ways.
+
+[GEORGE sits down again, regaining his composure a little.]
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [to UNA]. And so to-day you investigated travelling
+in street cars?
+
+UNA. Yes. "Joy-riding," you know. Then I saw him -- and decided.
+I knew he wouldn't dare to propose to me -- under existing
+conditions.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. So you asked him to marry you?
+
+UNA. Certainly not. I've too much consideration for you, dear.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. But I thought you said ----?
+
+UNA. I decided to bring him home to get your consent first.
+[BRAITHEWAITE starts to say something.] I knew you'd approve when
+you saw him. But I wanted to be sure I hadn't overlooked
+anything. And if I had, I didn't want to have raised his hopes
+for nothing. [To GEORGE.] Would you mind standing a moment, now,
+until Dad looks you over?
+
+[GEORGE fidgets a little in embarrassment.]
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. My dear, do you think the gentleman ----?
+
+UNA. " Gentleman!" Oh, yes, I forgot. I needn't have been so
+clumsy. [She rises. GEORGE rises automatically. She continues to
+GEORGE.] I apologize.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [also rising and moving his chair aside]. I fear you
+have been too rude.
+
+UNA. So do I. I've never even introduced you. Father, this is --
+this is ---- [To GEORGE.] By the way -- I forgot to ask -- what
+is your name?
+
+GEORGE. Coxey, Miss.
+
+UNA [sounding it]. Coxey. What's the first name? I can't call my
+husband "Coxey," you know.
+
+GEORGE. George, Miss.
+
+UNA [triumphantly]. George! There's a fine virile name for you.
+George Coxey! How strong that sounds! One of those names that
+would go equally well in the blue book or the police blotter.
+
+GEORGE. I never ----
+
+UNA. Don't disclaim. I know you've never been arrested. One can
+see your goodness in your face.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [reprovingly]. Many of the best people go to jail
+now, dear.
+
+UNA. I know. But he's not rich and thank heaven he's not a
+fanatic. Isn't he good-looking? And I'm sure he's strong. See
+those hands of his -- a little rough, of course, but I like that,
+and so firm and, for his job, wonderfully clean. Don't hide them,
+George. They  attracted me from the start.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. How did you come here with my daughter at all, sir?
+
+UNA [quickly]. I got off with him at the car barn when he
+finished his run and asked him.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Didn't you know you would lose your job by leaving
+that way?
+
+GEORGE [with a suppressed smile]. Yes, sir.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. And you came at any rate?
+
+GEORGE. You see, sir, she gave me ----
+
+UNA [interrupting hurriedly]. A beseeching look. Just one. I
+didn't use more than was necessary. [Pointedly to GEORGE.] You
+see, George, I have learnt economy from father. He hates me to be
+extravagant.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. That, my dear, is the chief objection I have to
+this episode -- it's extravagance.
+
+UNA. Please don't call it an "episode," father.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. You must admit it's -- rather unusual.
+
+UNA. In England, lords always marry chorus girls.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. But he is a conductor.
+
+GEORGE [angry]. Yes. And conductors are ----
+
+UNA. As hard working as chorus girls -- only. Don't be snobbish,
+George. Of course a conductor is more unusual, I admit. I can't
+help that though ---- [To her father.] You shouldn't have called
+me "Una," if you didn't want me to be unique.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [reminiscently]. That was most unfortunate -- most.
+It was your mother's idea. She believed in symbols -- and in a
+small family.
+
+UNA. Oh! Was that why ----? Well, no matter. I've always thought
+it meant individuality and I've done my best to live up to it.
+[She looks at the statue.] That statue ought to be on the other
+side of the room.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I'll have some of the men move it to-morrow.
+
+UNA. I'd like to see the effect now.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [slightly annoyed at this seeming irrelevance]. I
+wish I could teach you concentration. I'm not strong enough to
+move it myself, dear, and ----
+
+GEORGE. Can I?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Why--
+
+UNA. Oh! If you would!
+
+[GEORGE goes over to it and then hesitates what to do with his
+cap which he has in his hand.]
+
+UNA. I'll take that.
+
+GEORGE [giving it to her]. Thanks. [He bends and lifts the statue
+without effort, while UNA watches him admiringly, fingering his
+cap. When he reaches the other side of the room he stops,
+waveringly, awaiting instructions.]
+
+UNA [talking as GEORGE waits]. Look at him. He's as fine as the
+statue, isn't he? And you know what you think of that. See the
+strength he has?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Well ----
+
+UNA [to GEORGE]. Thank you so much. You may put it back again.
+That was all I wanted. [After GEORGE has.] I hope I didn't
+overtax you.
+
+GEORGE. Oh, it ain't very heavy.
+
+UNA [triumphantly to her father]. You see!
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. But he uses "ain't."
+
+UNA [imitating the reproof of her father]. Many of the best
+people use "ain't" now, dear.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Not with his enunciation.
+
+UNA. What was yours like when you were a railroad signalman?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Una! The past of a public man should be private.
+
+UNA. George has our children's future before him. All the others
+I know have only their parents' past behind. You could give him a
+job suitable for my husband. I'll make my husband suitable for
+the job.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. But you don't know him, my dear.
+
+UNA. I don't know myself for that matter. If I don't like him,
+it's easy enough to go to Reno.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Then you insist?
+
+UNA. I'm tremendously eager. It's so unusual.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I suppose I could sue Shaw.
+
+UNA. Don't be silly. Sue an Englishman with German sympathies!
+Where's your neutrality?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [sinking into a chair]. Very well.
+
+UNA [running up to GEORGE with delight]. Then it's settled, dear.
+We're going to marry.
+
+GEORGE. Excuse me, Miss, we ain't.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [shocked]. "Ain't" again!
+
+UNA [correcting]. "Aren't," dear -- I mean, we are.
+
+GEORGE. Not.
+
+UNA [backing away]. Why not?
+
+GEORGE. Because -- I'm married already.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [rising]. What?
+
+UNA. How annoying!
+
+GEORGE. Married three years, and expecting a baby, Miss.
+
+UNA [troubled]. Oh, please!
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. You see what plunging means. I told you I believed
+in eugenic examinations first.
+
+UNA [walking up and down, thinking]. Sh! Be quiet, father. Don't
+lose your head.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Better than losing your heart.
+
+UNA [laughing]. I have it. Of course. How stupid of me not to
+think. George.
+
+GEORGE. Yes, Miss.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Wouldn't you better call him "Mr. Coxey" now?
+
+UNA [paying no heed to her father's remark]. George, you must
+divorce your wife.
+
+GEORGE. Me? Why she's as good as gold and ----
+
+UNA. That's unfortunate. [Thinking.] Then I'll have to run away
+with you and let her get the divorce.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [now really shocked]. Una!
+
+UNA [innocently]. What, Dad? Have you something better to
+suggest?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [fuming]. I can't permit it. I didn't mind the
+uncommon scandal of your marrying a car conductor, but I
+absolutely draw the line at common scandal.
+
+UNA [a little bored]. Father, dear, why will you sometimes talk
+to me as though I were the Public Service Commission? There's
+going to be no scandal. You can keep it out of the newspapers.
+
+GEORGE. Excuse me, but that don't make any difference. I don't
+want to get a divorce.
+
+UNA. You don't? Why?
+
+GEORGE [embarrassed]. Sounds like a song, I know, but -- I love
+my wife.
+
+UNA [in despair]. And you're the unusual man I'm to marry.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [with the contempt of a professional toward an
+amateur]. Stealing nickels doesn't develop the imagination.
+
+UNA [desperately]. How can you love your wife? Some simple,
+economizing, prosaic, hausfrau who ----
+
+GEORGE [with spirit]. I don't know what you're saying, but you
+better be careful not to insult my wife. She's as good as you are
+and a rector's daughter.
+
+UNA [dumbfounded]. What?
+
+GEORGE. Yes. Daughter of one of the biggest sky-pilots in town. I
+met her at a settlement house. She put the question to me, too.
+
+UNA [angry and doubting]. She ----?
+
+GEORGE. Sure. I've been through something like this before or I'd
+never been able to stand it so well.
+
+UNA [as before]. Your wife ----?
+
+GEORGE. Had a good deal more pluck than you, though. Up and told
+her father she would marry me if he liked it or lumped it. He
+said he'd cut her. And he did. We never seen him since. But Naomi
+and I don't care. That's her name; so you can see she's a
+Bible-poacher's daughter. Naomi and I've been happier than any
+people on earth. [Sternly.] She's taught me to stand when a lady
+was standing. That's why I wouldn't obey you. She's teaching me
+how to speak, too, and if I do say "ain't" and a lot of other
+things I oughtn't to when I'm excited, that ai -- isn't her
+fault.
+
+UNA. Then she -- Naomi -- has done everything unusual that I
+wanted to do, before I did?
+
+GEORGE. Sure. You can't be unusual to-day. Too much brains been
+in the world before.
+
+UNA. How is it I never heard this story, if her father's so well
+known?
+
+GEORGE. D'you think your father's the only one can keep things
+out of the papers?
+
+UNA [going over and weeping on her father's shoulder]. Oh! And I
+wanted to be unique.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. There, there, dear. [To GEORGE.]
+You'd better go, now, Coxey.
+
+GEORGE. And my job?
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. I'll see you still keep it.
+
+GEORGE. Thanks. I don't want to.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. No?
+
+GEORGE. I want a better.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [putting his daughter aside]. Indeed! Pray what?
+
+GEORGE [nonchalantly]. Superintendent or something. I leave it to
+you. You know more about what jobs there are than I do.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [controlling his anger]. And on what basis do you
+ask for a better job?
+
+GEORGE. Naomi always said my chance would come and I could take
+it, if I had nerve and my eyes open. I think now's the time.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Why?
+
+GEORGE. Oh, this story about your daughter wouldn't look nice.
+
+UNA. Oh!
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. You forget the power your father-in-law and I have
+in the press.
+
+GEORGE. No, I don't. But I remember that you can't keep me from
+spreading the news among your men. And I don't think ----
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [angry and advancing on him]. I could have you
+prosecuted for blackmail, sir. Have you no honor?
+
+GEORGE. Sure. My honor says provide for your family. I've got the
+makings of a big man in me, Mr. Braithewaite. You can't chain me
+down with a poor man's morals.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE. Well! I ----
+
+GEORGE. I'll work in any job you give me, too. I'm not asking for
+a cinch, only a chance. If she --" [pointing to UNA] -- could
+teach me, Naomi can.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [after a pause]. Well, call around at my office in
+the morning.
+
+GEORGE. Thanks. [He goes out.]
+
+UNA [sitting to weep]. And I thought I could be unusual.
+
+BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. It's easy enough for Shaw, dear. He
+only writes it.
+
+UNA [jumping up]. That's it. I'll write it. I'll write a play
+showing it's useless trying to escape the usual. [Running up to
+her father, GEORGE'S cap in her hands.] That will be unusual,
+won't it, Dad?
+
+[Reenter GEORGE.]
+
+GEORGE. Excuse me. I left my cap.
+
+UNA [stretching it out to him without looking at him]. Here it
+is.
+
+GEORGE [taking it]. Thanks. [Approaching her.] Buck up, Miss! You
+meant well.
+
+UNA. I suppose I was too daring.
+
+GEORGE. If you ask me, I think the trouble was you and that Shaw
+fellow wasn't daring enough. Marriage is a very particular sort
+of business. Now if you'd come up to me in the street and just
+asked me to ---- [UNA and BRAITHEWAITE look at GEORGE.] Well -- I
+-- I guess I'll go. But remember my tip next try, Miss.
+
+[He goes out quickly, leaving UNA gradually grasping the idea and
+appreciating it, while her father's shock at what GEORGE has said
+is increased only by noticing his daughter's reception of the
+words.]
+
+Curtain.
+
+
+
+III. OVERTONES
+
+A One-Act Play
+By
+ALICE GERSTENBERG
+
+Author of "Unquenched Fire," "The Conscience of Sarah Platt," and
+Dramatization of "Alice in Wonderland," etc.
+
+Copyright, 1913, by Alice Gerstenberg
+
+"Overtones" was produced by the Washington Square Players under
+the direction of Edward Goodman at the Bandbox Theatre, New York
+City, beginning November 8, 1915, to represent an American
+one-act play on a bill of four comparative comedies, "Literature"
+by Arthur Schnitzler of Austria, "The Honorable Lover" by Roberto
+Bracco of Italy, and "Whims" by Alfred de Musset of France. In
+the cast were the following:
+
+HETTY  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   Josephine A. Meyer
+HARRIET, her overtone .  .   Agnes McCarthy
+MAGGIE    .  .  .  .  .  .   Noel Haddon
+MARGARET, her overtone   .   Grace Griswold
+The scene was designed by Lee Simonson and the costumes and
+draperies by Bertha Holley.
+
+"Overtones" was subsequently presented in vaudeville by Martin
+Beck, beginning at the Palace Theatre, Chicago, February 28,
+1916, with Helena Lackaye as star, with the following cast:
+
+HARRIET, a cultured woman    Helene Lackaye
+HETTY, her primitive self  . Ursula Faucett
+MARGARET, a cultured woman   Francesca Rotoli
+MAGGIE, her primitive self . Nellie Dent
+The scene was designed by Jerome Blum.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+HARRIET, a cultured woman
+HETTY, her primitive self
+MARGARET, a cultured woman
+MAGGIE, her primitive self
+
+TIME: The present.
+SCENE: HARRIET'S fashionable living-room. The door at the back
+leads to the hall. In the centre a tea table with a chair either
+side. At the back a cabinet.
+
+HARRIET'S gown is a light, "jealous" green. Her counterpart,
+HETTY, wears a gown of the same design but in a darker shade.
+MARGARET wears a gown of lavender chiffon while her counterpart,
+MAGGIE, wears a gown of the same design in purple, a purple scarf
+veiling her face. Chiffon is used to give a sheer effect,
+suggesting a possibility of primitive and cultured selves merging
+into one woman. The primitive and cultured selves never come into
+actual physical contact but try to sustain the impression of
+mental conflict. HARRIET never sees HETTY, never talks to her but
+rather thinks aloud looking into space. HETTY, however, looks at
+HARRIET, talks intently and shadows her continually. The same is
+true of MARGARET and MAGGIE. The voices of the cultured women are
+affected and lingering, the voices of the primitive impulsive and
+more or less staccato. When  the curtain rises HARRIET is seated
+right of tea table, busying herself with the tea things.
+
+HETTY. Harriet. [There is no answer.] Harriet, my other self.
+[There is no answer.] My trained self.
+
+HARRIET [listens intently]. Yes? [From behind HARRIET'S chair
+HETTY rises slowly.]
+
+HETTY. I want to talk to you.
+
+HARRIET. Well?
+
+HETTY [looking at HARRIET admiringly]. Oh, Harriet, you are
+beautiful to-day.
+
+HARRIET. Am I presentable, Hetty?
+
+HETTY. Suits me.
+
+HARRIET. I've tried to make the best of the good points.
+
+HETTY. My passions are deeper than yours. I can't keep on the
+mask as you do. I'm crude and real, you are my appearance in the
+world.
+
+HARRIET. I am what you wish the world to believe you are.
+
+HETTY. You are the part of me that has been trained.
+
+HARRIET. I am your educated self.
+
+HETTY. I am the rushing river; you are the ice over the current.
+
+HARRIET. I am your subtle overtones.
+
+HETTY. But together we are one woman, the wife of Charles
+Goodrich.
+
+HARRIET. There I disagree with you, Hetty, I alone am his wife.
+
+HETTY [indignantly]. Harriet, how can you say such a thing!
+
+HARRIET. Certainly. I am the one who flatters him. I have to be
+the one who talks to him. If I gave you a chance you would tell
+him at once that you dislike him.
+
+HETTY [moving away], I don't love him, that's certain.
+
+HARRIET. You leave all the fibbing to me. He doesn't suspect that
+my calm, suave manner hides your hatred. Considering the amount
+of scheming it causes me it can safely be said that he is my
+husband.
+
+HETTY. Oh, if you love him ----
+
+HARRIET. I? I haven't any feelings. It isn't my business to love
+anybody.
+
+HETTY. Then why need you object to calling him my husband?
+
+HARRIET. I resent your appropriation of a man who is managed only
+through the cleverness of my artifice.
+
+HETTY. You may be clever enough to deceive him, Harriet, but I am
+still the one who suffers. I can't forget he is my husband. I
+can't forget that I might have married John Caldwell.
+
+HARRIET. How foolish of you to remember John, just because we met
+his wife by chance.
+
+HETTY. That's what I want to talk to you about. She may be here
+at any moment. I want to advise you about what to say to her this
+afternoon.
+
+HARRIET. By all means tell me now and don't interrupt while she
+is here. You have a most annoying habit of talking to me when
+people are present. Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my poise
+and appear not to be listening to you.
+
+HETTY. Impress her.
+
+HARRIET. Hetty, dear, is it not my custom to impress people?
+
+HETTY. I hate her.
+
+HARRIET. I can't let her see that.
+
+HETTY. I hate her because she married John.
+
+HARRIET. Only after you had refused him.
+
+HETTY [turning on HARRIET]. Was it my fault that I refused him?
+
+HARRIET. That's right, blame me.
+
+HETTY. It was your fault. You told me he was too poor and never
+would be able to do anything in painting. Look at him now, known
+in Europe, just returned from eight years in Paris, famous.
+
+HARRIET. It was too poor a gamble at the time. It was much safer
+to accept Charles's money and position.
+
+HETTY. And then John married Margaret within the year.
+
+HARRIET. Out of spite.
+
+HETTY. Freckled, gawky-looking thing she was, too.
+
+HARRIET [a little sadly]. Europe improved her. She was stunning
+the other morning.
+
+HETTY. Make her jealous to-day.
+
+HARRIET. Shall I be haughty or cordial or caustic or ----
+
+HETTY. Above all else you must let her know that we are rich.
+
+HARRIET. Oh, yes, I do that quite easily now.
+
+HETTY. You must put it on a bit.
+
+HARRIET. Never fear.
+
+HETTY. Tell her I love my husband.
+
+HARRIET. My husband ----
+
+HETTY. Are you going to quarrel with me?
+
+HARRIET [moves away]. No, I have no desire to quarrel with you.
+It is quite too uncomfortable. I couldn't get away from you if I
+tried.
+
+HETTY [stamping her foot and following HARRIET]. You were a
+stupid fool to make me refuse John, I'll never forgive you --
+never ----
+
+HARRIET [stopping and holding up  her hand]. Don't get me all
+excited. I'll be in no condition to meet her properly this
+afternoon.
+
+HETTY [passionately]. I could choke you for robbing me of John.
+
+HARRIET [retreating]. Don't muss me!
+
+HETTY. You don't know how you have made me suffer.
+
+HARRIET [beginning to feel the strength of HETTY'S emotion surge
+through her and trying to conquer it]. It is not my business to
+have heartaches.
+
+HETTY. You're bloodless. Nothing but sham -- sham -- while I ----
+
+HARRIET [emotionally]. Be quiet! I can't let her see that I have
+been fighting with my inner self.
+
+HETTY. And now after all my suffering you say it has cost you
+more than it has cost me to be married to Charles. But it's the
+pain here in my heart -- I've paid the price -- I've paid ----
+Charles is not your husband!
+
+HARRIET [trying to conquer emotion]. He is.
+
+HETTY [follows HARRIET]. He isn't.
+
+HARRIET [weakly]. He is.
+
+HETTY [towering over HARRIET]. He isn't! I'll kill you!
+
+HARRIET [overpowered, sinks into a chair]. Don't -- don't --
+you're stronger than I -- you're ---- 
+
+HETTY. Say he's mine.
+
+HARRIET. He's ours.
+
+HETTY [the telephone rings]. There she is now.
+
+[HETTY hurries to 'phone but HARRIET regains her supremacy.]
+
+HARRIET [authoritatively]. Wait! I can't let the telephone girl
+down there hear my real self. It isn't proper. [At 'phone.] Show
+Mrs. Caldwell up.
+
+HETTY. I'm so excited, my heart's in my mouth.
+
+HARRIET [at the mirror]. A nice state you've put my nerves into.
+
+HETTY. Don't let her see you're nervous.
+
+HARRIET. *Quick, put the veil on, or she'll see you shining
+through me. [HARRIET takes a scarf of chiffon that has been lying
+over the back of a chair and drapes it on HETTY, covering her
+face. The chiffon is the same color of their gowns but paler in
+shade so that it pales HETTY'S darker gown to match HARRIET'S
+lighter one. As HETTY moves in the following scene the chiffon
+falls away revealing now and then the gown of deeper dye
+underneath.]
+
+------
+* (The vaudeville production did not use Harriet's line about the
+veil because at the rise of the curtain Hetty is already veiled
+in chiffon the same dark green shade as her gown.)
+------
+
+HETTY. Tell her Charles is rich and fascinating -- boast of our
+friends, make her feel she needs us.
+
+HARRIET. I'll make her ask John to paint us.
+
+HETTY. That's just my thought -- if John paints our portrait ----
+
+HARRIET. We can wear an exquisite gown ----
+
+HETTY. And make him fall in love again and ----
+
+HARRIET [schemingly]. Yes.
+
+[MARGARET parts the portieres back centre and extends her hand.
+MARGARET is followed by her counterpart MAGGIE.] Oh, MARGARET,
+I'm so glad to see you!
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. That's a lie.
+
+MARGARET [in superficial voice throughout]. It's enchanting to
+see you, Harriet.
+
+MAGGIE [in emotional voice throughout]. I'd bite you, if I dared.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Wasn't our meeting a stroke of luck?
+
+MARGARET [coming down left of table]. I've thought of you so
+often, HARRIET; and to come back and find you living in New York.
+
+HARRIET [coming down right of table]. Mr. Goodrich has many
+interests here.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her.
+
+MARGARET. I know, Mr. Goodrich is so successful.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we're rich.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Won't you sit down?
+
+MARGARET [takes a chair]. What a beautiful cabinet!*
+
+------
+*What beautiful lamps! (In vaudeville production.)
+-----
+
+HARRIET. Do you like it? I'm afraid Charles paid an extravagant
+price.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I don't believe it.
+
+MARGARET [sitting down. To HARRIET]. I am sure he must have.
+
+HARRIET [sitting down]. How well you are looking, Margaret.
+
+HETTY. Yes, you are not. There are circles under your eyes.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm
+hungry.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How well you are looking, too.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. You have hard lines about your lips, are you
+happy?
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her know that I'm unhappy.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Why shouldn't I look well? My life is
+full, happy, complete ----
+
+MAGGIE. I wonder.
+
+HETTY [in HARRIET'S ear]. Tell her we have an automobile.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. My life is complete, too.
+
+MAGGIE. My heart is torn with sorrow; my husband cannot make a
+living. He will kill himself if he does not get an order for a
+painting.
+
+MARGARET [laughs]. You must come and see us in our studio. John
+has been doing some excellent portraits. He cannot begin to fill
+his orders.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we have an automobile.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Do you take lemon in your tea?
+
+MAGGIE. Take cream. It's more filling.
+
+MARGARET [looking nonchalantly at tea things]. No, cream, if you
+please. How cozy!
+
+MAGGIE [glaring at tea things]. Only cakes! I could eat them all!
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. How many lumps?
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Sugar is nourishing.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET], Three, please. I used to drink very sweet
+coffee in Turkey and ever since I've ----
+
+HETTY. I don't believe you were ever in Turkey.
+
+MAGGIE. I wasn't, but it is none of your business.
+
+HARRIET [pouring tea]. Have you been in Turkey, do tell me about
+it.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Change the subject.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. You must go there. You have so much taste
+in dress you would enjoy seeing their costumes.
+
+MAGGIE. Isn't she going to pass the cake?
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. John painted several portraits there.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Why don't you stop her bragging and tell her
+we have an automobile?
+
+HARRIET [offers cake across the table to MARGARET]. Cake?
+
+MAGGIE [stands back of MARGARET, shadowing her as HETTY shadows
+HARRIET. MAGGIE reaches claws out for the cake and groans with
+joy]. At last! [But her claws do not touch the cake.]
+
+MARGARET [with a graceful, nonchalant hand places cake upon her
+plate and bites at it slowly and delicately]. Thank you.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Automobile!
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Follow up the costumes with the suggestion
+that she would make a good model for John. It isn't too early to
+begin getting what you came for.
+
+MARGARET [ignoring MAGGIE]. What delicious cake.
+
+HETTY [excitedly to HARRIET]. There's your chance for the auto.
+
+HARRIET [nonchalantly to MARGARET]. Yes, it is good cake, isn't
+it? There are always a great many people buying it at Harper's. I
+sat in my automobile fifteen minutes this morning waiting for my
+chauffeur to get it.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Make her order a portrait.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. If you stopped at Harper's you must have
+noticed the new gowns at Henderson's. Aren't the shop windows
+alluring these days?
+
+HARRIET. Even my chauffeur notices them.
+
+MAGGIE. I know you have an automobile, I heard you the first
+time.
+
+MARGARET. I notice gowns now with an artist's eye as John does.
+The one you have on, my dear, is very paintable.
+
+HETTY. Don't let her see you're anxious to be painted.
+
+HARRIET [nonchalantly]. Oh, it's just a little model.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Don't seem anxious to get the order.
+
+MARGARET [nonchalantly]. Perhaps it isn't the gown itself but the
+way you wear it that pleases the eye. Some people can wear
+anything with grace.
+
+HETTY. Yes, I'm very graceful.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. You flatter me, my dear.
+
+MARGARET. On the contrary, Harriet, I have an intense admiration
+for you. I remember how beautiful you were -- as a girl. In fact,
+I was quite jealous when John was paying you so much attention.
+
+HETTY. She is gloating because I lost him.
+
+HARRIET. Those were childhood days in a country town.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's trying to make you feel that John was
+only a country boy.
+
+MARGARET. Most great men have come from the country. There is a
+fair chance that John will be added to the list.
+
+HETTY. I know it and I am bitterly jealous of you.
+
+HARRIET. Undoubtedly he owes much of his success to you,
+Margaret, your experience in economy and your ability to endure
+hardship. Those first few years in Paris must have been a
+struggle.
+
+MAGGIE. She is sneering at your poverty.
+
+MARGARET. Yes, we did find life difficult at first, not the
+luxurious start a girl has who marries wealth.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Deny that you married Charles for his money.
+[HARRIET deems it wise to ignore HETTY'S advice.]
+
+MARGARET. But John and I are so congenial in our tastes, that we
+were impervious to hardship or unhappiness.
+
+HETTY [in anguish]. Do you love each other? Is it really true?
+
+HARRIET [sweetly]. Did you have all the romance of starving for
+his art?
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's taunting you. Get even with her.
+
+MARGARET. Not for long. Prince Rier soon discovered John's
+genius, and introduced him royally to wealthy Parisians who gave
+him many orders.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. Are you telling the truth or are you lying?
+
+HARRIET. If he had so many opportunities there, you must have had
+great inducements to come back to the States.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. We did, but not the kind you think.
+
+MARGARET. John became the rage among Americans travelling in
+France, too, and they simply insisted upon his coming here.
+
+HARRIET. Whom is he going to paint here?
+
+MAGGIE [frightened]. What names dare I make up?
+
+MARGARET [calmly]. Just at present Miss Dorothy Ainsworth of
+Oregon is posing. You may not know the name, but she is the
+daughter of a wealthy miner who found gold in Alaska.
+
+HARRIET. I dare say there are many Western people we have never
+heard of.
+
+MARGARET. You must have found social life in New York very
+interesting, Harriet, after the simplicity of our home town.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. There's no need to remind us that our
+beginnings were the same.
+
+HARRIET. Of course Charles's family made everything delightful
+for me. They are so well connected.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her.
+
+MARGARET. I heard it mentioned yesterday that you had made
+yourself very popular. Some one said you were very clever!
+
+HARRIET [pleased]. Who told you that?
+
+MAGGIE. Nobody!
+
+MARGARET [pleasantly]. Oh, confidences should be suspected --
+respected, I mean. They said, too, that you are gaining some
+reputation as a critic of art.
+
+HARRIET. I make no pretenses.
+
+MARGARET. Are you and Mr. Goodrich interested in the same things,
+too?
+
+HETTY. No!
+
+HARRIET. Yes, indeed, Charles and I are inseparable.
+
+MAGGIE. I wonder.
+
+HARRIET. Do have another cake.
+
+MAGGIE [in relief]. Oh, yes.
+[Again her claws extend but do not touch the cake.]
+
+MARGARET [takes cake delicately]. I really shouldn't -- after my
+big luncheon. John took me to the Ritz and we are invited to the
+Bedfords' for dinner -- they have such a magnificent house near
+the drive -- I really shouldn't, but the cakes are so good.
+
+MAGGIE. Starving!
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. More tea?
+
+MAGGIE. Yes!
+
+MARGARET. No, thank you. How wonderfully life has arranged itself
+for you. Wealth, position, a happy  marriage, every opportunity
+to enjoy all pleasures; beauty, art -- how happy you must be.
+
+HETTY [in anguish]. Don't call me happy. I've never been happy
+since I gave up John. All these years without him -- a future
+without him -- no -- no -- I shall win him back -- away from you
+-- away from you ----
+
+HARRIET [does not see MAGGIE pointing to cream and MARGARET
+stealing some]. I sometimes think it is unfair for any one to be
+as happy as I am. Charles and I are just as much in love now as
+when we married. To me he is just the dearest man in the world.
+
+MAGGIE [passionately]. My John is. I love him so much I could die
+for him. I'm going through hunger and want to make him great and
+he loves me.  He worships me!
+
+MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I should like to meet Mr.
+Goodrich. Bring him to our studio. John has some sketches to
+show. Not many, because all the portraits have been purchased by
+the subjects. He gets as much as four thousand dollars now.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't pay that much.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. As much as that?
+
+MARGARET. It is not really too much when one considers that John
+is in the foremost rank of artists to-day. A picture painted by
+him now will double and treble in value.
+
+MAGGIE. It's all a lie. He is growing weak with despair.
+
+HARRIET. Does he paint all day long?
+
+MAGGIE. No, he draws advertisements for our bread.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. When you and your husband come to see us,
+telephone first ----
+
+MAGGIE. Yes, so he can get the advertisements out of the way.
+
+MARGARET. Otherwise you might arrive while he has a sitter, and
+John refuses to let me disturb him then.
+
+HETTY. Make her ask for an order.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Le Grange offered to paint me for a
+thousand.
+
+MARGARET. Louis Le Grange's reputation isn't worth more than
+that.
+
+HARRIET. Well, I've heard his work well mentioned.
+
+MAGGIE. Yes, he is doing splendid work.
+
+MARGARET. Oh, dear me, no. He is only praised by the masses. He
+is accepted not at all by artists themselves.
+
+HETTY [anxiously]. Must I really pay the full price?
+
+HARRIET. Le Grange thought I would make a good subject.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Let her fish for it.
+
+MARGARET. Of course you would. Why don't you let Le Grange paint
+you, if you trust him?
+
+HETTY. She doesn't seem anxious to have John do it.
+
+HARRIET. But if Le Grange isn't accepted by artists, it would be
+a waste of time to pose for him, wouldn't it?
+
+MARGARET. Yes, I think it would.
+
+MAGGIE [passionately to HETTY across back of table]. Give us the
+order. John is so despondent he can't endure much longer. Help
+us! Help me! Save us!
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't seem too eager.
+
+HARRIET. And yet if he charges only a thousand one might consider
+it.
+
+MARGARET. If you really wish to be painted, why don't you give a
+little more and have a portrait really worth while? John might be
+induced to do you for a little below his usual price considering
+that you used to be such good friends.
+
+HETTY [in glee]. Hurrah!
+
+HARRIET [quietly to MARGARET]. That's very nice of you to suggest
+-- of course I don't know ----
+
+MAGGIE [in fear]. For God's sake, say yes.
+
+MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. Of course, I don't know whether
+John would. He is very peculiar in these matters. He sets his
+value on his work and thinks it beneath him to discuss price.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. You needn't try to make us feel small.
+
+MARGARET. Still, I might quite delicately mention to him that
+inasmuch as you have many influential friends you would be very
+glad to -- to ----
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. Finish what I don't want to say.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Help her out.
+
+HARRIET. Oh, yes, introductions will follow the exhibition of my
+portrait. No doubt I ----
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Be patronizing.
+
+HARRIET. No doubt I shall be able to introduce your husband to
+his advantage.
+
+MAGGIE [relieved]. Saved.
+
+MARGARET. If I find John in a propitious mood I shall take
+pleasure, for your sake, in telling him about your beauty. Just
+as you are sitting now would be a lovely pose.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. We can go now.
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her think she is doing us a favor.
+
+HARRIET. It will give me pleasure to add my name to your
+husband's list of patronesses.
+
+MAGGIE [excitedly to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John the good
+news.
+
+MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I little guessed when I came for
+a pleasant chat about old times that it would develop into
+business arrangements. I had no idea, Harriet, that you had any
+intention of being painted. By Le Grange, too. Well, I came just
+in time to rescue you.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John. Hurry, hurry!
+
+HETTY [to HARRIET]. You managed the order very neatly. She
+doesn't suspect that you wanted it. 
+
+HARRIET. Now if I am not satisfied with my portrait I shall blame
+you, Margaret, dear. I am relying upon your opinion of John's
+talent.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She doesn't suspect what you came for. Run
+home and tell John!
+
+HARRIET. You always had a brilliant mind, Margaret.
+
+MARGARET. Ah, it is you who flatter, now.
+
+MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. You don't have to stay so long. Hurry home!
+
+HARRIET. Ah, one does not flatter when one tells the truth.
+
+MARGARET [smiles]. I must be going or you will have me completely
+under your spell.
+
+HETTY [looks at clock]. Yes, do go. I have to dress for dinner.
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Oh, don't hurry.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I hate you!
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. No, really I must, but I hope we shall see
+each other often at the studio. I find you so stimulating.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I hate you!
+
+HARRIET [to MARGARET]. It is indeed gratifying to find a kindred
+spirit.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I came for your gold.
+
+MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How delightful it is to know you again.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I am going to make you and your husband
+suffer.
+
+HARRIET. My kind regards to John.
+
+MAGGIE [to HETTY]. He has forgotten all about you.
+
+MARGARET [rises]. He will be so happy to receive them.
+
+HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I can hardly wait to talk to him again.
+
+HARRIET. I shall wait, then, until you send me word?
+
+MARGARET [offering her hand]. I'll speak to John about it as soon
+as I can and tell you when to come.
+
+[HARRIET takes MARGARET'S hand affectionately. HETTY and MAGGIE
+rush at each other, throw back their veils, and fling their
+speeches fiercely at each other.]
+
+HETTY. I love him -- I love him ----
+
+MAGGIE. He's starving -- I'm starving ----
+
+HETTY. I'm going to take him away from you ----
+
+MAGGIE. I want your money -- and your influence.
+
+HETTY and MAGGIE. I'm going to rob you -- rob you.
+
+[There is a cymbal crash, the lights go out and come up again
+slowly, leaving only MARGARET and HARRIET visible.]
+
+MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. I've had such a delightful
+afternoon.
+
+HARRIET [offering her hand]. It has been a joy to see you.
+
+MARGARET [sweetly to HARRIET]. Good-bye.
+
+HARRIET [sweetly to MARGARET as she kisses her].
+Good-bye, my  dear.
+
+Curtain.
+
+
+
+IV. HELENA'S HUSBAND
+An Historical Comedy
+By
+PHILIP MOELLER
+
+Copyright, 1915, by Philip Moeller
+
+"Helena's Husband" was produced by the Washington Square Players,
+under the direction of Philip Moeller, at the Bandbox Theatre,
+New York  City, beginning October 4, 1915.
+
+In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the
+following:
+
+HELENA, Queen of Sparta   .  .   Noel Haddon
+TSUMU, her slave    .  .  .  .   Helen Westley
+MENELAUS, the King     .  .  .   Frank Conroy
+ANALYTIKOS, his librarian .  .   Walter Frankl
+PARIS, a shepherd   .  .  .  .   Harold Meltzer
+The scene was designed by Paul T. Frankl and
+the costumes by Robert Locker.
+
+"Helena's Husband" was subsequently revived by the Washington
+Square Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning
+June 5, 1916, with Margaret Mower playing the part of Helen. 
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+HELENA, the Queen
+TSUMU, a black woman, slave to Helena
+MENELAUS, the King
+ANALYTIKOS, the King's librarian
+PARIS, a shepherd
+
+SCENE: Is that archeolological mystery, a Greek interior. A door
+on the right leads to the KING'S library, one on the left to the
+apartments of the QUEEN. Back right is the main entrance leading
+to the palace. Next this, running the full length of the wall, is
+a window with a platform, built out over the main court. Beyond
+is a view of hills bright with lemon groves, and in the far
+distance shimmers the sea. On the wall near the QUEEN'S room
+hangs an old shield rusty with disuse. A bust of Zeus stands on a
+pedestal against the right wall. There are low coffers about 
+the room from which hang the ends of vivid colored robes. The
+scene is bathed in intense sunlight.
+
+TSUMU is massaging the QUEEN.
+
+HELENA. There's no doubt about it.
+
+TSUMU. Analytikos says there is much doubt about all things.
+
+HELENA. Never mind what he says. I envy you your complexion.
+
+TSUMU [falling prostrate before HELENA]. Whom the Queen envies
+should beware.
+
+HELENA [annoyed]. Get up, Tsumu. You make me nervous tumbling
+about like that.
+
+TSUMU [still on the floor]. Why does the great Queen envy Tsumu?
+
+HELENA. Get up, you silly. [She kicks her.] I envy you because
+you can run about and never worry about getting sunburnt.
+
+TSUMU [on her knees]. The radiant beauty of the Queen is
+unspoilable.
+
+HELENA. That's just what's worrying me, Tsumu. When beauty is so
+perfect the slightest jar may mean a jolt. [She goes over and
+looks at her reflection in the shield.] I can't see myself as
+well as I would like to. The King's shield is tarnished. Menelaus
+has been too long out of battle.
+
+TSUMU [handing her a hand mirror]. The Gods will keep Sparta free
+from strife.
+
+HELENA. I'll have you beaten if you assume that prophetic tone
+with me. There's one thing I can't stand, and that's a know-all.
+[Flinging the hand mirror to the floor.]
+
+TSUMU [in alarm]. Gods grant you haven't bent it.
+
+HELENA. These little mirrors are useless. His shield is the only
+thing in which I can see myself full-length. If he only went to
+war, he'd have to have it cleaned.
+
+TSUMU [putting the mirror on a table near the QUEEN]. The King is
+a lover of peace.
+
+HELENA. The King is a lover of comfort. Have you noticed that he
+spends more time than he used to in the library?
+
+TSUMU. He is busy with questions of State.
+
+HELENA. You know perfectly well that when anything's the matter
+with the Government it's always straightened out at the other end
+of the palace. Finish my shoulder. [She examines her arm.] I
+doubt if there is a finer skin than this in Sparta.
+
+[TSUMU begins to massage the QUEEN'S shoulder.]
+
+HELENA [taking up a mirror]. That touch of deep carmine right
+here in the centre of my lips was quite an idea.
+
+TSUMU [busily pounding the QUEEN]. An inspiration of the Gods!
+
+HELENA. The Gods have nothing to do with it. I copied it from a
+low woman I saw at the circus. I can't understand how these bad
+women have such good ideas. [HELENA twists about.]
+
+TSUMU. If your majesty doesn't sit still, I may pinch you.
+
+HELENA [boxing her ears]. None of your tricks, you ebony fiend!
+
+TSUMU [crouching]. Descendant of paradise, forgive me.
+
+HELENA. If you bruise my perfect flesh, the King will kill you.
+My beauty is his religion. He can sit for hours, as if at prayer,
+just examining the arch of my foot. Tsumu, you may kiss my foot.
+
+TSUMU [prostrate]. May the Gods make me worthy of your kindness!
+
+HELENA. That's enough. Tsumu, are you married?
+
+TSUMU [getting up]. I've been so busy having babies I never had
+time to get married.
+
+HELENA. It's a great disillusionment.
+
+TSUMU [aghast]. What!
+
+HELENA. I'm not complaining. Moo Moo is the best of husbands, but
+sometimes being adored too much is trying. [She sighs deeply.] I
+think I'll wear my heliotrope this afternoon.
+
+[A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard. TSUMU goes to the
+window.]
+
+TSUMU. They are changing the guards at the gates of the palace.
+It's almost time for your bath. [She begins scraping the massage
+ointment back into the box.]
+
+HELENA. You're as careful with that ointment as Moo Moo is with
+me.
+
+TSUMU. Precious things need precious guarding.
+
+HELENA. It's very short-sighted on Moo Moo's part to send
+everybody to the galleys who dares lift a head when I pass by --
+and all those nice-looking soldiers! Why -- the only men I ever
+see besides Moo Moo are Analytikos and a lot of useless eunuchs.
+
+TSUMU. Oh, those eunuchs!
+
+HELENA [as she sits dreaming]. I wish, I wish ---- [She stops
+short.]
+
+TSUMU. You have but to speak your desire to the King.
+
+HELENA [shocked]. Tsumu! How can you think of such a thing? I'm
+not a bad woman.
+
+TSUMU. He would die for you.
+
+HELENA [relieved]. Ah! Do you think so, Tsumu?
+
+TSUMU. All Sparta knows that His Majesty is a lover of peace, and
+yet he would rush into battle to save you.
+
+HELENA. I should love to have men fighting for me.
+ 
+TSUMU [in high alarm]. May Zeus turn a deaf ear to your voice.
+
+HELENA. Don't be impertinent, Tsumu. I've got to have some sort
+of amusement.
+
+TSUMU. You've only to wait till next week, and you can see
+another of the priestesses sacrificed to Diana.
+
+HELENA. That doesn't interest me any longer. The girls are
+positively beginning to like it. No! My mind is set on war.
+
+TSUMU [terrified]. I have five fathers of my children to lose.
+
+HELENA. War, or -- or ----
+
+TSUMU [hopefully]. Have I been so long your slave that I no
+longer know your wish?
+
+HELENA [very simply]. Well, I should like to have a lover.
+
+TSUMU [springs up and rushes over in horror to draw the curtains
+across the door to the library. All of a tremble]. Gods grant
+they didn't hear you.
+
+HELENA. Don't be alarmed, Tsumu. Analytikos is over eighty.
+[She bursts into a loud peal of laughter and MENELAUS rushes into
+the room.]
+
+MENELAUS [in high irritation]. I wish you wouldn't make so much
+noise in here. A King might at least expect quiet in his own
+palace.
+
+HELENA. Tsumu, see if my bath is ready. [TSUMU exits.]
+You used not speak like that to me, Moo Moo.
+
+MENELAUS [in a temper]. How many times must I tell you that my
+name is Menelaus and that it isn't "Moo Moo?"
+
+HELENA [sweetly]. I'll never do it again, Moo Moo. [She giggles.]
+
+MENELAUS. Your laugh gets on my nerves. It's louder than it used
+to be.
+
+HELENA. If you wish it, I'll never, never laugh again.
+
+MENELAUS. You've promised that too often.
+
+HELENA [sadly]. Things are not as they used to be.
+
+MENELAUS. Are you going to start that again?
+
+HELENA [with a tinge of melancholy]. I suppose you'd like me to
+be still and sad.
+
+MENELAUS [bitterly]. Is it too much to hope that you might be
+still and happy?
+
+HELENA [speaking very quickly and tragically]. Don't treat me
+cruelly, Moo Moo. You don't understand me. No man ever really
+understands a woman. There are terrible depths to my nature.
+I had a long talk with Dr. Aesculapius only last week, and he
+told me I'm too introspective. It's the curse of us emotional
+women. I'm really quite worried, but much you care, much you
+care. [A note of tears comes into her voice.] I'm sure you don't
+love me any more, Moo Moo. No! No! Don't answer me! If you did
+you couldn't speak to me the way you do. I've never wronged you
+in deed or in thought. No, never -- never. I've given up my hopes
+and aspirations, because I knew you wanted me around you. And
+now, NOW ---- [She can contain the tears no longer.] Because I
+have neglected my beauty and because I am old and ugly, you
+regret that Ulysses or Agamemnon didn't marry me when you all
+wanted me, and I know you curse the day you ever saw me. [She is
+breathless.]
+
+MENELAUS [fuming]. Well! Have you done?
+
+HELENA. No. I could say a great deal more, but I'm not a
+talkative woman.
+
+[ANALYTIKOS comes in from the library.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty, are we to read no longer to-day?
+
+HELENA. I have something to say to the King. [ANALYTIKOS goes
+toward the library. MENELAUS anxiously stops him.]
+
+MENELAUS. No. Stay here. You are a wise man and will understand
+the wisdom of the Queen.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [bowing to HELENA]. Helena is wise as she is
+beautiful.
+
+MENELAUS. She is attempting to prove to me in a thousand words
+that she's a silent woman.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Women are seldom silent. [HELENA resents this.] Their
+beauty is forever speaking for them.
+
+HELENA. The years have, indeed, taught you wisdom.
+[TSUMU enters.]
+
+TSUMU. The almond water awaits Your Majesty.
+
+HELENA. I hope you haven't forgotten the chiropodist.
+
+TSUMU. He has been commanded but he's always late. He's so busy.
+
+HELENA [in a purring tone to MENELAUS]. Moo Moo.
+
+[MENELAUS, bored, turns away.] 
+
+HELENA [to TSUMU]. I think after all I'll wear my Sicily blue. 
+
+[She and TSUMU go into the QUEEN'S apartment.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Shall we go back to the library?
+
+MENELAUS. My mind is unhinged again -- that woman with her
+endless protestations.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. I am sorry the poets no longer divert you.
+
+MENELAUS. A little poetry is always too much.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. To-morrow we will try the historians.
+
+MENELAUS. No! Not the historians. I want the truth for a change.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. The truth!
+
+MENELAUS. Where in books can I find escape from the grim reality
+of being hitched for life to such a wife? Bah!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Philosophy teaches ----
+
+MENELAUS. Why have the Gods made woman necessary to man, and made
+them fools?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. For seventy years I have been resolving the problem
+of woman and even at my age ----
+
+MENELAUS. Give it up, old man. The answer is -- don't.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Such endless variety, and yet ----
+
+MENELAUS [with the conviction of finality]. There are only two
+sorts of women! Those who are failures and those who realize it.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Is not Penelope, the model wife of your cousin
+Ulysses, an exception?
+
+MENELAUS. Duty is the refuge of the unbeautiful. She is as
+commonplace as she is ugly. [And then with deep bitterness.] Why
+didn't he marry Helen when we all wanted her? He was too wise
+for that. He is the only man I've ever known who seems able to
+direct destiny.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. You should not blame the Gods for a lack of will.
+
+MENELAUS [shouting]. Will! Heaven knows I do not lack the will to
+rid myself of this painted puppet, but where is the instrument
+ready to my hand?
+
+[At this moment a SHEPHERD of Apollonian beauty leaps across the
+rail of the balcony and bounds into the room. MENELAUS and
+ANALYTIKOS start back in amazement.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Who are you?
+
+PARIS. An adventurer.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Then you have reached the end of your story. In a
+moment you will die.
+
+PARIS. I have no faith in prophets.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. The soldiers of the King will give you faith. Don't
+you know that it means death for any man to enter the apartments
+of the Queen?
+
+PARIS [looking from one to the other]. Oh! So you're a couple of
+eunuchs.
+
+[Though nearly eighty this is too much for ANALYTIKOS to bear. He
+rushes to call the guards, but MENELAUS stops him.]
+
+PARIS [to ANALYTIKOS]. Thanks.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. You thank me for telling you your doom?
+
+PARIS. No -- for convincing me that I'm where I want to be. It's
+taken me a long while, but I knew I'd get here. [And then very
+intimately to MENELAUS.] Where's the Queen?
+
+MENELAUS. Where do you come from?
+
+PARIS. From the hills. I had come down into the market-place to
+sell my sheep. I had my hood filled with apples. They were
+golden-red like a thousand sunsets.
+
+MENELAUS [annoyed]. You might skip those bucolic details.
+
+PARIS. At the fair I met three ancient gypsies.
+
+MENELAUS. What have they to do with you coming here?
+
+PARIS. You don't seem very patient. Can't I tell my story in my
+own way? They asked me for the apple I was eating and I asked
+them what they'd give for it.
+
+MENELAUS. I'm not interested in market quotations.
+
+PARIS. You take  everything so literally. I'm sure you're easily
+bored.
+
+MENELAUS [with meaning]. I am.
+
+PARIS [going on cheerfully]. The first was to give me all the
+money she could beg, and the second was to tell me all the truth
+she could learn by listening, and the third promised me a pretty
+girl. So I chose ---- [He hesitates.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. You cannot escape by spinning out your tale.
+
+PARIS. Death is the end of one story and the beginning of
+another.
+
+MENELAUS. Well! Well! Come to the point. Which did you choose?
+
+PARIS [smiling]. Well, you see I'd been in the hills for a long
+while, so I picked the girl.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. It would have been better for you if you had chosen
+wisdom.
+
+PARIS. I knew you'd say that.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. I have spoken truly. In a moment you will die.
+
+PARIS. It is because the old have forgotten life that they preach
+wisdom.
+
+MENELAUS. So you chose the girl? Well, go on.
+
+PARIS. This made the other cronies angry, and when I tossed her
+the apple one of the others yelped at me: "You may as well seek
+the Queen of Sparta: she is the fairest of women." And as I
+turned away I heard their laughter, but the words had set my
+heart aflame and though it costs me my life, I'll follow the
+adventure.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [scandalized]. Haven't we heard enough of this?
+
+MENELAUS [deeply]. No! I want to hear how the story ends. It may
+amuse the King. [He makes a sign to ANALYTIKOS.]
+
+PARIS. And on the ship at night I looked long at the stars and
+dreamed of possessing Helen. [ANALYTIKOS makes an involuntary
+movement toward the balcony but MENELAUS stops him.] Desire has
+been my guiding Mercury; the Fates are with me, and here I am!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. The wrath of the King will show you no mercy.
+
+PARIS [nonchalantly]. I'm not afraid of the King. He's fat, and
+-- a fool.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Shall I call the guards?
+[MENELAUS stops him.]
+
+MENELAUS [very significantly]. So you would give your life for a
+glimpse of the Queen?
+
+PARIS [swiftly]. Yes! My immortal soul, and if the fables tell
+the truth, the sight will be worth the forfeit.
+
+MENELAUS [suddenly jumping up]. It shall be as you wish!
+
+PARIS [buoyantly]. Venus has smiled on me.
+
+MENELAUS. In there beyond the library you will find a room with a
+bath. Wait there till I call you.
+
+PARIS. Is this some trick to catch me?
+
+MENELAUS. A Spartan cannot lie.
+
+PARIS. What will happen to you if the King hears of this?
+
+MENELAUS. I will answer for the king. Go.
+
+[PARIS exits into the library.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS [rubbing his hands]. Shall I order the boiling oil?
+
+MENELAUS [surprised]. Oil?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Now that he is being cleaned for the sacrifice.
+
+MENELAUS. His torture will be greater than being boiled alive.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [eagerly]. You'll have him hurled from the walls of
+the palace to a forest of waiting spears below?
+
+MENELAUS. None is so blind as he who sees too much.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty is subtle in his cruelty.
+
+MENELAUS. Haven't the years taught you the cheapness of revenge?
+
+ANALYTIKOS [mystified]. You do not intend to alter destiny.
+
+MENELAUS. Never before has destiny been so clear to me.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Then the boy must die.
+
+MENELAUS [with slow determination]. No! He has been sent by the
+Gods to save me!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Your majesty! [He is trembling with apprehension.]
+
+MENELAUS [with unbudgeable conviction]. Helena must elope with
+him!
+
+ANALYTIKOS [falling into a seat]. Ye Gods!
+
+MENELAUS [quickly]. I couldn't divorce the Queen. That would set
+a bad example.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Yes, very.
+
+MENELAUS. I couldn't desert her. That would be beneath my honor.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [deeply]. Was there no other way?
+
+MENELAUS [pompously]. The King can do no wrong, and besides I
+hate the smell of blood. Are you a prophet as well as a scholar?
+Will she go?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. To-night I will read the stars.
+
+MENELAUS [meaningfully]. By to-night I'll not need you to tell
+me. [ANALYTIKOS sits deep in thought.] Well?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Ethics cite no precedent.
+
+MENELAUS. Do you mean to say I'm not justified?
+
+ANALYTIKOS [cogitating]. Who can establish the punctilious ratio
+between necessity and desire?
+
+MENELAUS [beginning to fume]. This is no time for language. Just
+put yourself in my place.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Being you, how can I judge as I?
+
+MENELAUS [losing control]. May you choke on your dialectics! Zeus
+himself could have stood it no longer.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Have you given her soul a chance to grow?
+
+MENELAUS. Her soul, indeed! It's shut in her rouge pot. [He has
+been strutting about. Suddenly he sits down crushing a roll of
+papyrus. He takes it up and in utter disgust reads.] "The perfect
+hip, its development and permanence." Bah! [He flings it to the
+floor.] I've done what I had to do, and Gods grant the bait may
+be sweet enough to catch the Queen.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. If you had diverted yourself with a war or two you
+might have forgotten your troubles at home.
+
+MENELAUS [frightened]. I detest dissension of any kind -- my
+dream was perpetual peace in comfortable domesticity with a
+womanly woman to warm my sandals.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Is not the Queen ----?
+
+MENELAUS. No! No! The whole world is but her mirror. And I'm
+expected to face that woman every morning at breakfast for the
+rest of my life, and by Venus that's more than even a King can
+bear!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Even a King cannot alter destiny. I warn you, whom
+the Gods have joined together ----
+
+MENELAUS [in an outburst]. Is for man to break asunder!
+
+ANALYTIKOS [deeply shocked]. You talk like an atheist.
+
+MENELAUS. I never allow religion to interfere with life. Go call
+the victim and see that he be left alone with the Queen.
+[MENELAUS exits and ANALYTIKOS goes over to the door of the
+library and summons PARIS, who enters clad in a gorgeous robe.]
+
+PARIS. I found this in there. It looks rather well, doesn't it?
+Ah! So you're alone. I suppose that stupid friend of yours has
+gone to tell the King. When do I see the Queen?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. At once. [He goes to the door of the QUEEN'S
+apartment and claps his hand. TSUMU enters and at the sight of
+her PARIS recoils the full length of the room.]
+
+PARIS. I thought the Queen was a blonde!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Tell Her Majesty a stranger awaits her here. [TSUMU
+exits, her eyes wide on PARIS.] You should thank the Gods for
+this moment.
+
+PARIS [his eyes on the door]. You do it for me. I can never
+remember all their names.
+
+[HELENA enters clad in her Sicily blue, crowned with a garland of
+golden flowers. She and PARIS stand riveted, looking at each
+other. Their attitude might be described as fatalistic.
+ANALYTIKOS watches them for a moment and then with hands and head
+lifted to heaven he goes into the library.]
+
+PARIS [quivering with emotion]. I have the most strange sensation
+of having seen you before. Something I can't explain ----
+
+HELENA [quite practically]. Please don't bother about all sorts
+of fine distinctions. Under the influence of Analytikos and my
+husband, life has become a mess of indecision. I'm a simple,
+direct woman and I expect you to say just what you think.
+
+PARIS. Do you? Very well, then ----  [He comes a step nearer to
+her.] Fate is impelling me toward you.
+
+HELENA. Yes. That's much better. So you're a fatalist. It's very
+Greek. I don't see what our dramatists would do without it.
+
+PARIS. In my country there are no dramatists. We are too busy
+with reality.
+
+HELENA. Your people must be uncivilized barbarians.
+
+PARIS. My people are a genuine people. There is but one thing we
+worship.
+
+HELENA. Don't tell me it's money.
+
+PARIS. It's ----
+
+HELENA. Analytikos says if there weren't any money, there
+wouldn't be any of those ridiculous socialists.
+
+PARIS. It isn't money. It's sincerity.
+
+HELENA. I, too, believe in sincerity. It's the loveliest thing in
+the world.
+
+PARIS. And the most dangerous.
+
+HELENA. The truth is never dangerous.
+
+PARIS. Except when told.
+
+HELENA [making room on the couch for him to sit next to her]. You
+mustn't say wicked things to me.
+
+PARIS. Can your theories survive a test?
+
+HELENA [beautifully]. Truth is eternal and survives all tests.
+
+PARIS. No. Perhaps, after all, your soul is not ready for the
+supremest heights.
+
+HELENA. Do you mean to say I'm not religious? Religion teaches
+the meaning of love.
+
+PARIS. Has it taught you to love your husband?
+
+HELENA [starting up and immediately sitting down again]. How dare
+you speak to me like that?
+
+PARIS. You see. I was right. [He goes toward the balcony.]
+
+HELENA [stopping him]. Whatever made you think so?
+
+PARIS. I've heard people talk of the King. You could never love a
+man like that.
+
+HELENA [beautifully]. A woman's first duty is to love her
+husband.
+
+PARIS. There is a higher right than duty.
+
+HELENA [with conviction]. Right is right.
+
+PARIS [with admiration]. The world has libelled you.
+
+HELENA. Me! The Queen?
+
+PARIS. You are as wise as you are beautiful.
+
+HELENA [smiling coyly]. Why, you hardly know me.
+
+PARIS. I know you! I, better than all men.
+
+HELENA. You?
+
+PARIS [rapturously]. Human law has given you to Menelaus, but
+divine law makes you mine.
+
+HELENA [in amazement]. What!
+
+PARIS. I alone appreciate your beauty. I alone can reach your
+soul.
+
+HELENA. Ah!
+
+PARIS. You hate your husband!
+
+HELENA [drawing back]. Why do you look at me like that?
+
+PARIS. To see if there's one woman in the world who dares tell
+the truth.
+
+HELENA. My husband doesn't understand me.
+
+PARIS [with conviction]. I knew you detested him.
+
+HELENA. He never listens to my aspirations.
+
+PARIS. Egoist.
+
+HELENA [assuming an irresistible pose]. I'm tired of being only
+lovely. He doesn't realize the meaning of spiritual intercourse,
+of soul communion.
+
+PARIS. Fool!
+
+HELENA. You dare call Moo Moo a fool?
+
+PARIS. Has he not been too blind to see that your soul outshines
+your beauty? [Then, very dramatically.] You're stifling!
+
+HELENA [clearing her throat]. I -- I --------
+
+PARIS. He has made you sit upon your wings. [HELENA, jumping up,
+shifts her position.] You are groping in the darkness.
+
+HELENA. Don't be silly. It's very light in here.
+
+PARIS [undisturbed]. You are stumbling, and I have come to lead
+you. [He steps toward her.]
+
+HELENA. Stop right there! [PARIS stops.] No man but the King can
+come within ten feet of me. It's a court tradition.
+
+PARIS. Necessity knows no tradition. [He falls on his knees
+before her.] I shall come close to you, though the flame of your
+beauty consume me.
+
+HELENA. You'd better be careful what you say to me. Remember I'm
+the Queen.
+
+PARIS. No man weighs his words who has but a moment to live.
+
+HELENA. You said that exactly like an actor. [He leans very close
+to her.] What are you doing now?
+
+PARIS. I am looking into you. You are the clear glass in which I
+read the secret of the universe.
+
+HELENA. The secret of the universe. Ah! Perhaps you could
+understand me.
+
+PARIS. First you must understand yourself.
+
+HELENA [instinctively taking up a mirror]. How?
+
+PARIS. You must break with all this prose. [With an unconscious
+gesture he sweeps a tray of toilet articles from the table.
+HELENA emits a little shriek.]
+
+HELENA. The ointment!
+
+PARIS [rushing to the window and pointing to the distance]. And
+climb to infinite poesie!
+
+HELENA [catching his enthusiasm, says very blandly]. There is
+nothing in the world like poetry.
+
+PARIS [lyrically]. Have you ever heard the poignant breathing of
+the stars?
+
+HELENA. No. I don't believe in astrology.
+
+PARIS. Have you ever smelt the powdery mists of the sun?
+
+HELENA. I should sneeze myself to death.
+
+PARIS. Have you ever listened to the sapphire soul of the sea?
+
+HELENA. Has the sea a soul? But please don't stop talking. You do
+it so beautifully.
+
+PARIS. Deeds are sweeter than  words. Shall we go hand in hand to
+meet eternity?
+
+HELENA [not comprehending him]. That's very pretty. Say it again.
+
+PARIS [passionately]. There's but a moment of life left me. I
+shall stifle it in ecstasy. Helena, Helena, I adore you!
+
+HELENA [jumping up in high surprise]. You're not making love to
+me, you naughty boy?
+
+PARIS. Helena!
+
+HELENA. You've spoken to me so little, and already you dare to do
+that.
+
+PARIS [impetuously]. I am a lover of life. I skip the
+inessentials.
+
+HELENA. Remember who I am.
+
+PARIS. I have not forgotten. Daughter of Heaven. [Suddenly he
+leaps to his feet.] Listen!
+
+HELENA. Shhh! That's the King and Analytikos in the library.
+
+PARIS. No! No! Don't you hear the flutter of wings?
+
+HELENA. Wings?
+
+PARIS [ecstatically]. Venus, mother of Love!
+
+HELENA [alarmed]. What is it?
+
+PARIS. She has sent her messenger. I hear the patter of little
+feet.
+
+HELENA. Those little feet are the soldiers below in the
+courtyard. [A trumpet sounds.]
+
+PARIS [the truth of the situation breaking through his emotion].
+In a moment I shall be killed.
+
+HELENA. Killed?
+
+PARIS. Save me and save yourself!
+
+HELENA. Myself?
+
+PARIS. I shall rescue you and lead you on to life.
+
+HELENA. No one has ever spoken to me like that before.
+
+PARIS. This is the first time your ears have heard the truth.
+
+HELENA. Was it of you I've been dreaming?
+
+PARIS. Your dream was but your unrealized desire.
+
+HELENA. Menelaus has never made me feel like this. [And then with
+a sudden shriek.] Oh! I'm a wicked woman!
+
+PARIS. No! No!
+
+HELENA. For years I've been living with a man I didn't love.
+
+PARIS. Yes! Yes!
+
+HELENA. I'm lost!
+
+PARIS [at a loss]. No! Yes! Yes! No!
+
+HELENA. It was a profanation of the most holy.
+
+PARIS. The holiest awaits you, Helena! Our love will lighten the
+Plutonian realms.
+
+HELENA. Menelaus never spoke to me like that.
+
+PARIS. 'Tis but the first whisper of my adoration.
+
+HELENA. I can't face him every morning at breakfast for the rest
+of my life. That's even more than a Queen can bear.
+
+PARIS. I am waiting to release you.
+
+HELENA. I've stood it for seven years.
+
+PARIS. I've been coming to you since the beginning of time.
+
+HELENA. There is something urging me to go with you, something I
+do not understand.
+
+PARIS. Quick! There is but a moment left us. [He takes her
+rapturously in his arms. There is a passionate embrace in the
+midst of which TSUMU enters.]
+
+TSUMU. The chiropodist has come.
+
+HELENA. Bring me my outer garment and my purse.
+
+[TSUMU exits, her eyes wide on PARIS.
+
+PARIS. Helena! Helena!
+
+[HELENA looks about her and takes up the papyrus that MENELAUS
+has flung to the floor.]
+
+HELENA. A last word to the King. [She looks at the papyrus.] No,
+this won't do; I shall have to take this with me.
+
+PARIS. What is it?
+
+HELENA. Maskanda's discourse on the hip.
+
+[A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard.]
+
+PARIS [excitedly]. Leave it -- or your hip may cost me my head.
+We haven't a minute to spare. Hurry! Hurry!
+
+[HELENA takes up an eyebrow pencil and writes on the back of the
+papyrus. She looks for a place to put it and seeing the shield
+she smears it with some of the ointment and sticks the papyrus to
+it.]
+
+PARIS [watching her in ecstasy]. You are the fairest of all fair
+women and your name will blaze as a symbol throughout eternity.
+[TSUMU enters with the purse and the QUEEN'S outer robe.]
+
+HELENA [tossing the purse to PARIS]. Here, we may need this.
+
+PARIS [throwing it back to TSUMU]. This for your silence,
+daughter of darkness. A prince has no heed of purses.
+
+TSUMU [looking at him]. A prince!
+
+HELENA [gloriously]. My prince of poetry. My deliverer!
+
+PARIS [divinely]. My queen of love!
+
+[They go out, TSUMU looking after them in speechless amazement.
+Suddenly she sees the papyrus on the shield, runs over and 
+reads it and then rushes to the door of the library.]
+
+TSUMU [calling]. Analytikos. [She hides the purse in her bosom.
+ANALYTIKOS enters, scroll in hand.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Has the Queen summoned me?
+
+TSUMU [mysteriously]. A terrible thing has happened.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. What's the matter?
+
+TSUMU. Where's the King?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. In the library.
+
+TSUMU. I have news more precious than the gold of Midas.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [giving her a purse]. Well! What is it?
+
+TSUMU [speaking very dramatically and watching the effect of her
+words]. The Queen has deserted Menelaus.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [receiving the shock philosophically]. Swift are the
+ways of Nature. The Gods have smiled upon him.
+
+TSUMU. The Gods have forsaken the King to smile upon a prince.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. What?
+
+TSUMU. He was a prince.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [apprehensively]. Why do you say that?
+
+TSUMU [clutching her bosom]. I have a good reason to know.
+[There is a sound of voices below in the courtyard. MENELAUS
+rushes in expectantly. TSUMU falls prostrate before him.] Oh,
+King, in thy bottomless agony blame not a blameless negress. The
+Queen has fled!
+
+MENELAUS [in his delight forgetting himself and flinging her a
+purse]. Is it true?
+
+TSUMU. Woe! Woe is me!
+
+MENELAUS [storming]. Out of my sight, you eyeless Argus!
+
+ANALYTIKOS [to TSUMU]. Quick, send a messenger. Find out who he
+was.
+[TSUMU sticks the third purse in her bosom and runs out.]
+
+MENELAUS [with radiant happiness, kneeling before the bust of
+Zeus]. Ye Gods, I thank ye. Peace and a happy life at last.
+[The shouts in the courtyard grow louder.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. The news has spread through the palace.
+
+MENELAUS [in trepidation, springing up]. No one would dare stop
+the progress of the Queen.
+
+TSUMU [rushes in and prostrates herself before the KING]. Woe is
+me! They have gone by the road to the harbor.
+
+MENELAUS [anxiously]. Yes! Yes!
+
+TSUMU. By the King's orders no man has dared gaze upon Her
+Majesty. They all fell prostrate before her.
+
+MENELAUS. Good! Good! [Attempting to cover his delight.] Go! Go!
+You garrulous dog. [TSUMU gets up and points to shield.
+ANALYTIKOS and the KING look toward it. ANALYTIKOS tears off the
+papyrus and brings it to MENELAUS. TSUMU, watching them, exits.]
+
+MENELAUS [reading]. "I am not a bad woman. I did what I had to
+do." How Greek to blame fate for what one wants to do. [TSUMU
+again comes tumbling in.]
+
+TSUMU [again prostrate before the KING]. A rumor flies through
+the city. He -- he ---- 
+
+ANALYTIKOS [anxiously]. Well? Well?
+
+TSUMU. He -- he ----
+
+MENELAUS [furiously to ANALYTIKOS]. Rid me of this croaking
+raven.
+
+TSUMU. Evil has fallen on Sparta. He ----
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Yes -- yes ----
+
+MENELAUS [in a rage]. Out of my sight, perfidious Nubian.
+[Sounds of confusion in the courtyard. Suddenly she springs to
+her feet and yells at the top of her voice.]
+
+TSUMU. He was Paris, Prince of Troy!
+
+[They all start back. ANALYTIKOS stumbles into a seat. MENELAUS
+turns pale. TSUMU leers like a black Nemesis.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS [very ominously]. Who can read the secret of the
+Fates?
+
+MENELAUS [frightened]. What do you mean?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. He is the son of Priam, King of Troy.
+
+TSUMU [adding fuel]. And of Hecuba, Queen of the Trojans. [She
+rushes out to spread the news.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS. That makes the matter international.
+
+MENELAUS [quickly]. But we have treaties with Troy.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Circumstances alter treaties. They will mean nothing.
+
+MENELAUS. Nothing?
+
+ANALYTIKOS. No more than a scrap of papyrus. Sparta will fight to
+regain her Queen.
+
+MENELAUS. But I don't want her back.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Can you tell that to Sparta? Remember, the King can
+do no wrong. Last night I dreamed of war.
+
+MENELAUS. No! No! Don't say that. After the scandal I can't be
+expected to fight to get her back.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Sparta will see with the eyes of chivalry.
+
+MENELAUS [fuming]. But I don't believe in war.
+
+ANALYTIKOS [still obdurate]. Have you forgotten the oath pledged
+of old, with Ulysses and Agamemnon? They have sworn, if ever the
+time came, to fight and defend the Queen.
+
+MENELAUS [bitterly]. I didn't think of the triple alliance.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Can Sparta ask less of her King?
+
+MENELAUS. Let's hear the other side. We can perhaps arbitrate.
+Peace at any price.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Some bargains are too cheap.
+
+MENELAUS [hopelessly]. But I am a pacifist.
+
+ANALYTIKOS. You are Menelaus of Sparta, and Sparta's a nation of
+soldiers.
+
+MENELAUS [desperately]. I am too proud to fight!
+
+ANALYTIKOS. Here, put on your shield. [A great clamor comes up
+from the courtyard. ANALYTIKOS steps out on the balcony and is
+greeted with shouts of "The King! The King!" Addressing the
+crowd.] People of Sparta, this calamity has been forced upon us.
+
+[MENELAUS winces.]
+We are a peaceful people. But thanks to our unparalleled
+efficiency, the military system of Sparta is the most powerful in
+all Greece and we can mobilize in half an hour.
+
+[Loud acclaims from the people. MENELAUS, the papyrus still in
+hand, crawls over and attempts to stop ANALYTIKOS.]
+
+ANALYTIKOS [not noticing him]. In the midst of connubial and
+communal peace the thunderbolt has fallen on the King.[MENELAUS
+tugs at ANALYTIKOS' robe.] Broken in spirit as he is, he is
+already pawing the ground like a battle steed. Never will we lay
+down our arms! We and Jupiter! [Cheers.] Never until the Queen is
+restored to Menelaus. Never, even if it takes ten years.
+
+[MENELAUS squirms. A loud cheer.]
+
+HELENA'S HUSBAND
+Even now the King is buckling on his shield.
+[More cheers. ANALYTIKOS steps farther forward and then
+with bursting eloquence.] 
+One hate we have and one alone! [Yells from below.]
+Hate by water and hate by land,
+Hate of the head and hate of the hand,
+Hate of Paris and hate of Troy
+That has broken the Queen for a moment's toy.
+[The yells grow fiercer.]
+Zeus' thunder will shatter the Trojan throne.
+We have one hate and one alone!
+
+[MENELAUS sits on the floor dejectedly looking at the papyrus. A
+thunder of voices from the people.]
+
+We have one hate and one alone. Troy! Troy!
+
+[Helmets and swords are thrown into the air. The cheers grow
+tumultuous, trumpets are blown, and the curtain falls.]
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Washington Square Plays
+by Various
+
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