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Title: The Man with a Load of Mischief.
   A Comedy in Three Acts.
Author: Dukes, Ashley (1885-1959)
Date of first publication: September 1924
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: Ernest Benn, July 1925
   [Fourth Impression (Theatre Edition), Eighth Thousand]
   [Contemporary British Dramatists, Volume XV]
Date first posted: 4 January 2011
Date last updated: 4 January 2011
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #691

This ebook was produced by
Barbara Watson, Mark Akrigg
& the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team
at http://www.pgdpcanada.net






_Contemporary British Dramatists, Volume XV:_

THE MAN WITH A LOAD OF
MISCHIEF




_CONTEMPORARY BRITISH DRAMATISTS_


_New Volumes._

_HAY FEVER. By_ Noel Coward

"_Gay, bright and amusing . . . an exhibition of youthful high
spirits._"--"_Stage._"


_THREE PLAYS. By_ Noel Coward: (_The Rat Trap_, _The Vortex_ _and
Fallen Angels_). _With the Author's reply to his Critics._

"_It is well that these plays should be published . . . they
catch the colour and movement of to-day with such surprising
accuracy._"--"_Morning Post._"

Note.--_These three plays are also obtainable separately._


_CONFLICT. By_ Miles Malleson

"_Mr. Malleson's writing is vital and interesting, his sense of the
theatre is very effective._"--"_Curtain._"

"_Mr. Malleson has something of Toller's gift for presenting in
a moving and dramatic way the contrasts and conflicts of our
civilisation._"--"_New Leader._"


_THIS WOMAN BUSINESS. By_ Ben W. Levy

"_Although managers are always saying that they cannot find good plays,
Ernest Benn seems to discover new ones on every bush. Here is another
worthy addition to their series . . . Mr. Levy is a man of wit and
understanding and has the true creative touch._"--"_Daily Telegraph._"


_THE TRANSLATION OF NATHANIEL BENDERSNAP. By_ G. D. Gribble

"_Frankly written for a select and sophisticated audience . . . there is
polish and wit in the dialogue._"--"_Curtain._"


_HIS MAJESTY'S PLEASURE. By_ Conal O'Riordan

"_An example of how the romantic play should be
written._"--"_Observer._"

"_Romance edged keenly by wit._"--"_Manchester Guardian._"


_THE MAN WITH A LOAD OF MISCHIEF. By_ Ashley Dukes. (_4th Impression._)

"_Brilliant comedy . . . gaiety, spontaneity and a dignity too which is
all too rarely found in high comedy._"--"_New Age._"


_ATONEMENT. By_ Edward Thompson

"_Mr. Thompson is among the playwrights born. . . . Into this
mould he can pour all his floods of thought and feeling and
aspiration._"--"_Times Literary Supplement._"


_EXODUS. By_ H. F. Rubinstein & Halcott Glover. (_2nd Impression_).

"_The action of the play is visible as you read . . . the sound of human
voices is audible throughout._"--_John Freeman in the "London Mercury."_

(_Continued on pages_ 91, 92, and 93)




                             THE MAN WITH A
                            LOAD OF MISCHIEF

                         A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS
                            By ASHLEY DUKES



                                LONDON
                          ERNEST BENN LIMITED
                      8 _Bouverie Street, E.C._ 4
                                 1925




                   MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN



_First Impression_                       _September, 1924_
_Second Impression_                      _December, 1924_
_Third Impression_                       _June, 1925_
_Fourth Impression_ (_Theatre Edition_)  _July, 1925._ (_Eighth Thousand_)



                   _Copyright 1924 by Ashley Dukes._
                        _All rights reserved._
           _Application regarding performing rights should be
            addressed to the author, care of the publishers._




                                  TO
                                 N. C.
                              REMEMBERED




                         PERSONS OF THE COMEDY

                              An Innkeeper
                              His Wife
                              A Nobleman
                              His Man
                              A Lady
                              Her Maid

                _The Scene throughout is a wayside Inn._




ACT I




                                 ACT I

                   Scene: A Room in an Inn. Evening.

        [_Enter the_ INNKEEPER, _lighting candles one by one_.

INNKEEPER: An empty house, and candles ninepence a pound; we are burning
money. I'll bar the shutters: a man's a fool to light the road for
nothing. If wayfarers were moths, ha, ha! If they came fluttering to the
window panes for their pot of treacle! (_He bars the shutters._) But
there's no hope of custom, unless it be a drunken farmer or a soldier
out of service; and they need no glimmer to guide them while their noses
show the way. Well, God help midwives, innkeepers and sextons, who keep
the world moving; and the devil take travellers who stay at home! Past
eight o'clock. Heigho! A drop of comfort would not be amiss.

        [_He takes a bottle from a cupboard, and is groping for a glass
    when his_ WIFE _comes in, bustling, and takes him by the collar_.

WIFE: Lighting up the parlour, were you? I know the candle you would set
afire! Lord save us from a doctor that swallows his own physic! On with
your coat, and give the snuffers here. Smartly there, smartly! For shame
on you! With the quality on the road and expected every hour!

INNKEEPER: Every hour, indeed! 'Tis bedtime for all honest folks.

WIFE: Then you should sit up late. And so you shall, I promise you.
While horses tire there's work for grooms. I have the best beds aired
and the warming-pans at the kitchen hearth.

INNKEEPER: Then we have all but guests.

WIFE: Aye, clever, so we have. But what if I told you that we have
guests, and guests of quality, coming this very hour?

INNKEEPER: I should say, wife, you were dreaming.

WIFE: Then stir yourself, for 'tis true.

INNKEEPER: Guests? Who are they?

WIFE: A gentleman and a lady now coming up the hill from Six Mile
Bottom. The lady in her own coach, and the gentleman mounted on as nice
a mare as ever Moony Dick did see. And both of them bound for this
house, by the advice of Moony, for it was he that passed them on the
road.

INNKEEPER: Well, well. This is good news. Did you give him a penny for
himself?

WIFE: I gave him twopence and a pint of ale.

INNKEEPER: It was too much, until we see the colour of their money.
(_Buttoning his jacket with importance._) They'll look for me on the
doorstep. Bring me my leather apron.

WIFE: Time enough for that. Their horses walk. They are in no hurry,
says Moony, with the gentleman stooping down from his saddle to peep
into the coach, and the lady smiling at him behind the windows.

INNKEEPER: Are they alone?

WIFE: She has a maid with her, and he a servant.

INNKEEPER: So. A gentleman with his servant?

WIFE: And a lady with her maid.

INNKEEPER: Are these two man and wife, does Moony think?

WIFE: Man and wife! Did man and wife ever dawdle after dark? It was the
accident that brought them together.

INNKEEPER: It must have been an accident to bring custom to this house.

WIFE: And very near a funeral too, says Moony, but for the rescuers in
the nick of time. O, I love bravery in a man!

INNKEEPER: Never mind your loves. What manner of accident was this?

WIFE: The coach was passing Six Mile cross-roads, at the brow of the
hill where the gibbet stands; and the horsemen half a furlong behind,
and Moony with his trap coming down the by-road. There was a great wind
on the down, and the footpad--him that was hanged last Michaelmas--was
swinging on his chain.

INNKEEPER: Aye, the crows were pecking at him a month since.

WIFE: When the coach was nearing the gibbet, comes a gust fit to blow
Moony from his seat, so he says, and the footpad--or his bag of
bones--swings right out above the road. The near horse shies and breaks
a trace, the other rears, the driver pitches from his seat, then the
coach sets off at a gallop down the hill towards the bridge in the
Bottom.

INNKEEPER: God save us! With the lady inside--and the bend in the
road----

WIFE: And the cliff this side of the stream! O, my heart stopped beating
when I heard the tale!

INNKEEPER: What then?

WIFE: While Moony was pulling the driver to his feet the two horsemen
passed them at a clatter. The coach was out of sight, the riders after
it. When they came into view at the bridge there was a long stone's
throw still between them.

INNKEEPER (_mopping his brow_): God save us!

WIFE: The rise should have stopped the pair, but they breasted it at a
gallop, with the others gaining on them, neck and neck behind.

INNKEEPER: Good, good!

WIFE: Into the dip they went, with the coach twisting like a scotched
snake across the roadway; but next they saw the gentleman's horse at the
hind wheels on the off side, while his servant came through on the near
side, where the rocks overhang.

INNKEEPER: Well done!

WIFE: Every minute they thought to see one of the pair crushed and
thrown, but close on the bend they saw the gentleman reaching for the
bridle of the off horse, and his servant reaching for the other, and
both standing high in the stirrups to get a purchase on the runaways.

INNKEEPER: And then?

WIFE: Still the crazy creatures went on at a gallop, but the riders
worked over to take the bit in hand, and so they brought them to a
standstill, not ten paces too soon, with the lady and her woman safe but
for a shaking. Ten minutes later up comes Moony, and finds the horses
all of a snow lather, with the servant looking to their shoes, and the
maid in a dead faint, and the gentleman standing as cool as may be,
passing compliments with her mistress. O, I love bravery in a man!

INNKEEPER: It should be a three-days' bill, with all their horses lame.
Which rooms did you make ready?

WIFE: The two best bedrooms on the first landing.

INNKEEPER: Hum. I would have put them farther apart. This is what the
quality call a romance.

WIFE: And why not? We have no call to meddle with the pleasures of the
quality.

INNKEEPER: That's as may be, but I would have bedded them farther apart.
These romances are here to-day and gone to-morrow. Set them too close
for a night, and at dawn your fine gentleman is calling for his boots,
while your fine lady sobs on her pillow.

WIFE: That's not the way of true love.

INNKEEPER: True love, true love! Mercy on us! 'Tis the way of gentlemen,
mark my words. Lay them well apart, let them dangle, and we have them
here this day week. Now the servant and the maid are another tale. Bed
them as close as you please.

WIFE: Indeed I will not! I'll have no goings-on in this house.

INNKEEPER: Why, they will hold the others fast. Trust servants for that.
I was in service myself--and you too, once on a time. (_Pinching her._)
We know the ways of true love, eh?

WIFE: For shame on you!

INNKEEPER: Well, well, a woman always knows best. Here they come.
Quickly, my apron!

        [_He goes out. His_ WIFE _busies herself in the room. Commotion
    in the inn courtyard. Enter the_ LADY _and her_ MAID, _and after
    them the_ NOBLEMAN, _his_ MAN _and the_ INNKEEPER _bowing. The_ WIFE
    _curtsies deeply_.

Good evening to your honour.

MAN (_correcting him_): Your lordship.

NOBLEMAN (_to_ MAN): Let him bring the best Madeira in his cellar.

INNKEEPER: A welcome to your lordship. We heard of the accident to my
lady's coach, and your lordship's bravery----

NOBLEMAN (_to_ MAN): Is this the innkeeper?

MAN: It is, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Then let him bring his wine.

        [_Exit_ INNKEEPER.

WIFE: I hope your ladyship feels no ill effects from the shaking?

LADY: I thank you, no. My maid suffered more, but is now recovered. It
was a trifle, thanks to the happy arrival of these--these gentlemen.

WIFE: Happy indeed, my lady. O, I love bravery in a man (_looking at
the_ MAN), whoe'er he be!

LADY: And I too.

NOBLEMAN: Still, madam, the virtue becomes a woman best.

LADY: _The_ virtue, my lord, or virtue?

NOBLEMAN: Courage is the only virtue, wise men tell us.

LADY (_laughing_): Then my maid is a sad rogue. But we must leave you to
your Madeira, and thank our rescuers once again. You, my lord. (_To the_
MAN). And you also, sir.

        [_The_ MAN _bows_.

WIFE: This way, my lady. Ours is only a wayside inn, but your ladyship
will not look for a palace.

LADY: A palace? No, indeed. Your attic will be welcome.

        [_The_ LADY _and her_ MAID _are lighted up the stairs. The_
    NOBLEMAN _and the_ MAN _alone--the_ MAN _at the foot of the stairs,
    looking upward_.

NOBLEMAN: Yes, Charles, they are gone for the present. Will you now
stoop to mundane matters? Loosen my boots, if you please.

        [_The_ MAN _loosens his boots_.

So there's adventure, Charles--the edge of life, the day's reward. Who
would have guessed our fate this morning? Two nodding horses, two
nodding horsemen, and the fortune of the road. How many milestones have
I passed to-day--and each of them the grave of an hour lost in
travelling! How many crazy loads of hay, and rosy farmers in their
market-carts, and great full-bellied corn-stacks, and feathered elms
like striding cockerels! I was sick of meadowsweet and buttercups, I was
surfeited with rich acres. The world is very coarse: Nature disgusts me.
And yet our poets sing of her! This strapping wench, this milkmaid of a
goddess, all breasts and fruition! A clownish taste. You spoke, Charles?

MAN: My lord, I had nothing to say.

NOBLEMAN: A vain apology for silence. You compel me to continue. I fell
asleep as I rode, to the music of some mill-wheel grinding cottage
flour, and dreamed of the pleasures of the mind. A collector's
pleasures, my Charles. Suddenly, at the fall of dusk, comes adventure.
A clatter and a cry, a race that might have been the envy of Newmarket,
a tussle and a halt, and Beauty smiles her thanks. The candles beckon,
supper is prepared. Yes, there's adventure. But I am old in these
romantic arts; they stir the mind more than the pulse. Adventure must be
held in delicate fingers. It should be handled, not embraced. It should
be sipped, not swallowed at a gulp.

        [_The_ INNKEEPER _returning offers wine_.

So here's a toast to prudence--to the soldier with a pair of heels, to
the mind that lives when passions die. Prudence, Charles. To that virtue
I would empty a tumbler. (_He drinks and flings away his glass._)

INNKEEPER: I hope the Madeira is to your lordship's taste?

NOBLEMAN (_to the_ MAN): Is this the innkeeper?

MAN: It is, my lord.

NOBLEMAN (_considering him_): Your wine, like your person, is the soul
of mediocrity.

INNKEEPER (_flattered_): Your lordship is too kind.

NOBLEMAN: It is the half-way house between physic and cordial. Still it
may serve to lay the dust of travel.

INNKEEPER: I humbly thank your lordship.

NOBLEMAN: You may leave us. At supper we shall look for better things.

INNKEEPER (_bowing himself out_): Your lordship shall have the best a
poor house can offer.

NOBLEMAN: Stay. My servant here is my companion. Use him well.

INNKEEPER: I will, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: None of your scullery entertainment. He will wait on me at all
hours. He is the last survivor of his race--the breed of Fools. Also he
is my confessor, and lends me the comfort of philosophy.

INNKEEPER: Ha, ha! Your lordship is pleased to make merry. But you will
have pleasanter company this evening--a deal pleasanter, I'll be bound.
Well, well, no harm in that, say I. There's a time for everything. I was
young myself once. Ha, ha! Youth will be served. Ha, ha!

NOBLEMAN (_to his_ MAN): Charles!

MAN: My lord?

NOBLEMAN: Remove this creature from my presence.

        [_Exeunt_ INNKEEPER, _and the_ MAN _bundling him out. The_
    NOBLEMAN, _alone, sits in a high-backed chair. At the head of the
    stairs appears the_ MAID, _carrying a pitcher. She descends without
    seeing him. He watches her for a moment, then moves softly._

MAID (_with a start, making him a curtsey_): Your pardon, sir--my lord,
I mean. I was fetching warm water for my lady.

NOBLEMAN: My lady can wait awhile. Set down the pitcher. (_She does
so._) Come to me. (_She approaches._) It was a pretty swoon--as pretty
as ever I saw. A portrait of surrender, in the pose that suits a woman
best. (_She drops her eyes._) And what did you dream in that pretty
swoon?

MAID: O, my lord----

NOBLEMAN: Give me your hand. (_She obeys, and he puts money in it._)
There. Are we better friends?

MAID (_with another curtsey_): Much better, indeed, my lord. But I
should tell you that my lady----

NOBLEMAN: Well, pretty one?

MAID: My lord will find my lady hard to please.

NOBLEMAN: Your lady is the most unapproachable of ladies? Is that your
meaning?

MAID: Indeed, yes. And many gentlemen have found her so.

NOBLEMAN (_amused_): But some gentlemen, no doubt, have found her
otherwise?

MAID: Perhaps--one here and there, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: One here and there. This conquest should be tempting. But you
think my chances poor?

MAID (_fingering his coin_): My lord is generous, but----

NOBLEMAN: You hold out no hopes. Honest baggage! No matter; you may keep
the bribe.

MAID: Thank you, my lord.

NOBLEMAN (_beckoning her closer_): But tell me, who spoke of your
mistress? Not I. We spoke of a runaway coach and a pretty swooning maid.

MAID: O, my lord----!

NOBLEMAN: For that matter, I have a servant. A monkish sort of fellow, a
philosopher--but he has eyes in his head. If they should light upon you,
then he and I might fall out.

MAID: O fie, my lord! (_Escaping his arms._) I know my place.

NOBLEMAN: Good. It is the art of life to know it. (_A silence._) But
have we not all met before to-day? At Bath, I think?

MAID: Your lordship moves in the best houses.

NOBLEMAN: Like her ladyship. We have met more than once. And where, I
wonder? Was it not in the best house of all, in the Royal Crescent, from
which my lady has just run away as fast as her coach would carry her?

MAID: You know too much, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: I have eyes in my head, too. I know that ladies do not take
the road for pleasure at two o'clock of a summer's morning.

MAID: I must go to my lady----

NOBLEMAN: Come, it is no hanging matter to run away from a man, even
though he be a Prince. The woman who runs will never lack followers.

MAID: O, if my lady could hear you, she would fly into a rage!

NOBLEMAN: A woman of spirit, eh? A passionate nature. But this is for
your ears only, my pretty one. I think you can keep secrets.

MAID: I am afraid of men who know too much.

NOBLEMAN: You can trust me. Tell me now--do you love your mistress?

MAID: I know my place, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: But do you love her?

MAID (_with an outburst_): I hate her! I hate her, with her pride and
her spirit and her smiling ways! But for you, my lord, we should both
have been lying in a ditch with the coach atop of us. And all because
she fell out with her Prince. A lovers' quarrel, and she thought herself
insulted. A Prince, too.

NOBLEMAN: _The_ Prince, my girl. The world of difference.

MAID: As open-handed a gentleman as ever stepped.

NOBLEMAN: Not to say open-hearted.

MAID: That's as may be. A gentleman of his rank----

NOBLEMAN: Cannot be blamed for it. You should be a lady-in-waiting, if
we all had our rights.

MAID: O, my lord, you understand indeed!

NOBLEMAN: And did the Prince's eyes ever light on your pretty face?

MAID (_blushing_): Perhaps, my lord. But not a word to my lady.

NOBLEMAN: I am your friend. (_Amused._) We plumb new depths of infamy.

MAID: It was a fine life at Bath, with dinners and suppers as many as
you please, and the Italian singers at the playhouse, and a servants'
ball every week. And to give it all up, to flounce out of the house
without so much as a farewell, and half our baggage left behind; to sit
cramped in a coach to count the milestones on the road----

NOBLEMAN: Aha!

MAID: --to risk sudden death at every turning, but for the mercy of a
gentleman like you to save us from it; to live in common inns and
lodgings; then more coaches and more travels, and no place to call our
own! But it was always so. Last year nothing would content my lady but
she should visit Tuscany--to see the churches and the pictures, if you
please! We jogged all the way to Florence, but for the crossing in the
packet--ugh! And those foreigners and their ways!

NOBLEMAN: I know them, and their pictures.

MAID: Yes, I hate her, and yet----

NOBLEMAN: As long as she runs from men, you will run too, in the hope of
capture.

MAID: Hush! I heard----

LADY'S voice (_calling_): Louise!

MAID: Coming, my lady!

NOBLEMAN (_lifting a warning forefinger_): Not a whisper!

MAID: Trust me for that, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: You and I will meet again.

        [_As she mounts the stairs._

If my man hates me as much, we are well matched.

        [_Enter the_ MAN.

Well, Charles? Fresh from the stable?

MAN: The mare has a saddle-gall, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Careless creature. And your own mount?

MAN: A jar and some bruises. Scarcely fit to ride.

NOBLEMAN: The coach-horses are lame, no doubt?

MAN: Dead lame, my lord, so they tell me.

NOBLEMAN: Then we are tethered here for some days. We have time to
think. Come, Charles. You and I will make no mysteries with each other.
We know who these adventurous ladies are. I will call the maid a lady in
compliment to you.

        [_The_ MAN _is silent_.

Answer me--you know them?

MAN: Your lordship knows best.

NOBLEMAN: And you have guessed that our meeting was not altogether by
chance?

MAN: I think even your lordship did not foresee the accident to the
coach.

NOBLEMAN: No, the gallows-bird did us a good turn. My blessing on him!
He lent us the appearance of gallant rescuers. This is a world of
appearance, Charles.

MAN: I know it, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Women have a weakness for a rescuer. And indeed you played
your part manfully.

MAN: The least I could do was to follow your lordship's example.

NOBLEMAN: It is seldom that we can obtain so much credit for so slight a
service. Let us make the most of it.

MAN: We will, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Now this coach may have other pursuers. No hue and cry, you
understand, no scouring of the countryside, but it may be followed.
There is one person in particular to be reckoned with--let us say a very
exalted person, who cannot ride a mile, but possesses a good pair of
greys. You take me?

MAN: I take your lordship's word.

NOBLEMAN: I have no mind to be disturbed in this sanctuary, which
pleases me well. It is less troublesome to be passed than overtaken.
This follower must be misdirected. Should he pass this way, you will
command the innkeeper to deny all knowledge of a coach, or ladies, or an
accident. You will post one or two stout fellows--yokels of these parts,
the stupider the better--to keep watch on the road and tell the same
story. Bribe them handsomely; take my purse. See to it now, and return.

MAN (_motionless_): This inn lies on a by-road, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Well, what of it?

MAN: The place to watch is the turning from the main road, three miles
distant.

NOBLEMAN: True. I should have thought of that. Despatch a man to this
spot immediately.

MAN: I took the liberty an hour ago of carrying out your lordship's
wishes.

NOBLEMAN: The devil you did! And how, may I ask?

MAN: I sent the man they call Moony Dick, who came up in his trap after
the accident. He will wait at the cross-roads--all night if need be. He
will direct the traveller you speak of to follow the coach by the
highway to Oxford.

NOBLEMAN: Can you trust this man?

MAN: No, my lord. He will be paid in the morning.

NOBLEMAN: Well done! You are a treasure, Charles. I could almost call
you my better self.

MAN: Your lordship flatters me.

NOBLEMAN: No, no. Every thought foreseen, every wish gratified. But it
seems to me that you had your own reasons for such foresight. Come,
confess. You had your eye on the maid. A shapely baggage.

MAN: Your lordship is pleased to be familiar.

NOBLEMAN: A vice in masters not to be encouraged, eh? But between
ourselves, Charles, she is unworthy of you. A pretty face, an empty
head. Three minutes' conversation and the well is dry. You should look
elsewhere.

MAN (_with gentle irony_): I am sorry your lordship would deprive a
menial of his pleasures.

NOBLEMAN: Come, Charles, you know I can deny you nothing. If you are set
upon her, then take her--always providing that she will have you. For we
must consult their wishes, eh?

MAN: My lord is the soul of chivalry.

NOBLEMAN: I gave you the hint for your own sake.

MAN: I understood your lordship perfectly.

NOBLEMAN: For my part, you know that my thoughts are centred on her
mistress.

        [_The_ MAN _watches him narrowly_.

This woman interests me. She has a will of her own.

MAN (_with a movement to withdraw_): I should not discuss my lady with
your lordship.

NOBLEMAN: My admirable Charles! I vow you have the scruples of a
gentleman. That reminds me that I have a question to ask you. We are
cooped in this inn, and I cannot send you packing if I would. You may
answer freely.

MAN: My lord?

NOBLEMAN: How well, Charles, do you hate me?

        [_A silence._

MAN: I have given your lordship no grounds to suppose----

NOBLEMAN: None of your quibbles. The more you hate me the better it will
suit my purpose. Speak your mind.

MAN: My mind is not your lordship's to command.

NOBLEMAN: True. I am asking a favour.

MAN: Since you ask me--I think no man is good enough to be another man's
servant.

NOBLEMAN: Or another man's master, you would say. I feel the sting in
the tail, Charles. Then why do you remain with me? Answer! Have no fear!

MAN: I have no fear.

NOBLEMAN: Answer!

MAN: I watch the world, as my lord watches it.

NOBLEMAN: But you see it otherwise?

MAN: We see what is in ourselves. We serve what is in our nature.

NOBLEMAN: Good. You have answered well. So you spy upon this fashionable
world you detest?

MAN: Spy is an ugly word, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: You observe its mummeries for your own ends. You hope that
this order will one day crumble, as it has crumbled already in France.
You are a leveller, Charles. You are a Jacobin. Deny it if you can.

MAN: I deny nothing, my lord. But I make bold to ask why you keep me in
your service?

NOBLEMAN: I have a use for levellers, Charles. I have a use for the
hatred of your betters that surges in your heart. It gives me
entertainment.

MAN: Then we are both content, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: No doubt your plebeian scorn embraces all of us? I am sure it
includes the lady who is at present decking herself out in her finery to
sup with me?

MAN (_impassive_): Your lordship knows me too well.

NOBLEMAN: A butterfly of fashion, Charles, a gilded plaything, a pretty
parasite, a Prince's mistress. Could any creature arouse a fiercer
passion in the people's breast? Well, you shall have your satisfaction.
You shall see her humbled. You shall even assist at the ceremony.

MAN: I, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: All in good time, my Jacobin. Curb your frenzy for the
tumbrils. I have a mind to send her back to her Prince.

MAN (_involuntarily_): That would be----

NOBLEMAN: Magnificent, would it not? A noble gesture. He has won my
money; we were together at the tables on the evening when she fled. The
Prince smiled and smiled when they laid her note at his elbow. He was
deep in liquor--still winning at every throw. I slipped away with an
empty purse, to be replenished in London. Well, the money is lost, but
one can still be generous. It would please me to return him his runaway.

MAN: Then why, my lord----?

NOBLEMAN: Why put him on a false scent, you ask? Finesse, my Charles,
finesse--a thing that your guillotine fails to appreciate. We must not
move too soon. Let him run on his wild-goose chase as far as Oxford,
till his blood is up. Let her rest here for a night or two. And then let
me send her back to him with a card and my compliments--a trifle blown
upon, just enough to make him wonder whether he is sprouting horns or
no. Yes, a graceful gesture.

MAN: And if my lady will not go?

NOBLEMAN: There are ways and means of persuading her. Under a cloak of
conveying her to a safe refuge we can run her slap into his arms. And
you, my Charles, shall be her escort. That will lend irony to the
stroke. We will despatch her like a nosegay in a lackey's hand. The
prospect pleases you?

MAN: I think, my lord, you hate this lady even more than I do.

NOBLEMAN: No, Charles. Moderation in all things; I am no Jacobin, but a
mild reformer. I have no great love for these women who slip the collar.
Too many of them would endanger the State. They should be taught a
lesson. (_Rising._) So you will do my errand? I can rely upon you?

MAN: As on your lordship's better self.

NOBLEMAN: Then I will make ready for supper. We must preserve the
semblance of gallantry with our runaways. They also have their pride, no
doubt. (_Turning at the foot of the stairs._)

MAN: As much, my lord, as we shall leave them.

NOBLEMAN (_on the stairs_): Ha, ha! As much as we shall leave them. Ha,
ha! Excellent fellow!

        [_Exit the_ NOBLEMAN. _The_ MAN _remains alone_.

MAN: A world of appearance, says my lord--a painted mockery. Brave men,
gay women--these are masks and shadows. Green trees, young shoots, high
nests for crows--whispers, fancies. Bright mornings, quiver of the
sunlight, falling dusk--darkness and dreams. This is an earth that men
have made. Our stench corrupts the meadows, and the cattle hold their
breath. This is an earth that men have made. All is appearance, says my
lord, and smiles again--the smile that freezes laughter. If we are
false, what can be true? And yet the folded leaf will open to the sun.
The tallest tree will cast the longest shadow. (_Drawing himself up._)
The longest shadow is reality.

        [_The_ LADY _descends the stairs, and the_ INNKEEPER _and his_
    WIFE _enter from the other side with trays and platters. They hand
    their dishes silently to the_ MAN, _who sets the table. The_ LADY
    _seats herself and looks on_.

INNKEEPER (_to the_ MAN): The wine is good. My father laid it down. I
have kept a drop for you in the kitchen.

MAN (_considering the table_): Something has been forgotten. Yes. Bring
flowers.

WIFE: Flowers, sir?

MAN: A bowl of roses. This is June. His lordship will expect them.

INNKEEPER (_scratching his head_): And the garden all in darkness----

MAN: Take a lantern, both of you. Go!

INNKEEPER (_going out_): A lantern, wife!

        [MAN _and_ LADY _alone. The_ LADY _laughs softly_.

MAN: Your ladyship laughed?

LADY: I thought of the poor creatures plucking roses by lantern light.
The drollery of common things.

MAN (_setting glasses_): Your ladyship means--of common creatures.

LADY: No. We are all common, and only some of us are droll. (_A
silence._) While we are alone, I have to thank you once again for this
evening's service. You are a gallant man.

MAN: It was a trifle. My master led the way.

LADY: Perhaps that is true, but one looks for gallantry in gentlemen. It
is their profession, so to speak. A poor man's chivalry is a flower.
Have you been a soldier?

MAN: I am a soldier out of love with wars, my lady.

LADY: You served in France?

        [MAN _bows_.

No wonder. I will offer you no money.

MAN: Your ladyship honours me.

LADY: If the question is not impertinent, why did you choose this trade
of all trades?

MAN: It is a trade like any other.

LADY: You see the world, it is true.

MAN: I have eyes and ears, my lady.

LADY: And a heart?

        [_He turns to her._

That is the first thing--to have a heart. I thought--it seemed to me
that you----

MAN: My lady?

LADY: I think I need a friend in this house.

        [_A silence._

MAN: Your ladyship has friends elsewhere.

LADY: But not here?

MAN: That is not for me to say.

LADY: I am in a trap, it seems. O, not of your setting, perhaps of no
one's setting, but a trap. I feel it. Will you help me out?

MAN: My lady's horses are lame. This is not a post-house.

LADY: I can ride if need be.

MAN: We have no mounts ourselves.

LADY: I can walk to the next inn.

MAN: Twelve miles, my lady. The night is dark, but the door is on the
latch.

LADY (_rising_): Then you are not disposed to help me? I was mistaken in
you?

        [_He seems to bar her way._

Be good enough to stand aside.

MAN: There are highwaymen in these parts. One of them swung on the
gibbet across your road.

LADY: That was the unhappy occasion of our meeting. I shall not forget
it--this skeleton haunts me still. That men can be so barbarous!

MAN: If my lady fears that she may be followed from Bath, I can tell her
that the danger is past.

LADY (_with spirit_): _You_ can tell me?

MAN: The Prince's coach has been directed by the high road to Oxford.

LADY: Misdirected?

MAN: As my lady pleases.

LADY: Who has done this? Who are you, sir?

MAN: I am a friend.

LADY: Have I a friend? I must take it on trust, for plainly you know me.

MAN: I know you better than I know myself.

LADY: Here are deep waters indeed. I do not remember your face.

MAN: It is five years since my lady was a singer at Covent Garden
Playhouse.

LADY: And you were----?

MAN: I was one of the gallery.

LADY: The gallery to whom I sang. (_With a smile._) So I meet with an
unknown admirer?

MAN: Those are empty words.

LADY: True. Those are empty words. I think, sir, you are not an admirer.

MAN: I am a friend.

LADY: Only five years, can it be? It seems half a lifetime. I have
travelled far since then. The music has run out of my horses' hoofs.

MAN: It is in the earth, where nothing is lost.

LADY: You speak my thoughts. (_Rising._) Who are you, sir? What is this
place?

MAN: It is a simple alehouse called "The Man with a Load of Mischief."

LADY: Another man! God save us, I am weary of them. O, I will not play
the weak woman with you. The pretence of weakness is our hypocrisy.
Frailty is a pretty word to please our masters. (_A silence._) So the
Prince takes the wrong turning--outriders, coach and all?

MAN: He will pass in the night.

LADY: Outriders, coach and all. There's a chapter closed. Put not your
trust in Princes. (_A silence._) You know that I was his mistress?

MAN: So much everyone knows.

LADY: Ask me why I chose that trade of all trades.

MAN: My lady has seen the world.

LADY: A sort of world. Too many fops and their tailors, too few men. Too
many wits and too little honesty. Too many bottles and too little
entertainment. A lackey's paradise.

MAN: My lady speaks to a lackey.

LADY: Then I ask your pardon. A nobleman's paradise. A dunghill
sprouting sword-grass, a hedgerow rank with lords and ladies. No
fruitful earth.

MAN: The world is as we make it.

LADY: Have we made that? I think that you and I are in league against
our betters.

MAN: My lady must speak for herself.

LADY: O, my friend, no more of my lady! And no more talk of what is dead
and done with. Our wits were given us to hide our hearts. (_A silence._)
Now I have spoken too freely. Your Man with a Load of Mischief carries a
gun on his shoulder.

MAN: It will not go off unless you fear him.

LADY: I fear nothing, but I have more pride than you suppose.

MAN: I understand. Your ladyship forgot for a moment that you were
speaking with a servant.

LADY: Believe me, I trust you.

MAN: Good servants are made to be trusted. Trust is less than I ask.

LADY: You are proud too. I should have known it. Listen----

MAN: My lord is coming.

LADY: That man!

        [_Re-enter the_ NOBLEMAN, _and from the other side the_
    INNKEEPER _and his_ WIFE, _bringing their bowl of roses. The_ MAN
    _assists them at the table. The_ NOBLEMAN _crosses over to where
    the_ LADY _is seated_.

NOBLEMAN: So, madam, you will sup with me. This is an honour indeed.

LADY: Call it rather the payment of a debt, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: To a man whose debts are unpaid, your integrity is
overwhelming. Such obligations are made to be forgotten.

LADY: Always excepting debts of honour?

NOBLEMAN: We pay those from necessity. The bailiffs are on the spot.

LADY: And our supper on the table. Well, hunger spells necessity. I am
famished.

        [_During the foregoing the_ MAID _has descended_.

NOBLEMAN: Is all ready, Charles?

MAN: My lord and my lady, supper is served.

        [_The_ NOBLEMAN _and the_ LADY _seat themselves at the table,
    the_ MAN _and the_ MAID _taking post behind their chairs_.

LADY: It was thoughtful of you, my lord, to choose these flowers.

NOBLEMAN (_indifferently_): The roses? Ah, to be sure. They are in
season.

LADY: By your leave, I will take one of them.


                                CURTAIN.




ACT II




                                 ACT II

        [_Supper is ended. The_ NOBLEMAN _and the_ LADY _sit at the
    table, with their servants behind them, as before. The dishes are
    removed as the scene proceeds._

NOBLEMAN (_in the middle of a speech_): Yet, madam, there is this to be
said----

        [_The_ INNKEEPER _and his_ WIFE _approach_.

What have you there?

WIFE: A dish of early strawberries, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Innocent fruit! They shall be dipped in wine. (_With a motion
to place them before the_ LADY.) Madam?

LADY (_to the_ WIFE): I will take cream, if you please.

NOBLEMAN: Berries and cream--a marriage of the innocents. Indeed a
massacre, to any palate of distinction.

        [_A silence._

LADY: I think, when we were interrupted, you were singing the praises of
the dice.

NOBLEMAN: Ah, yes. There is this to be said for the passion of gaming,
that it improves the loser's character out of knowledge.

LADY (_laughing_): Oh!

NOBLEMAN: A man never feels so virtuous as the morning after he has lost
his money at the tables. His purse is not so light as his conscience.
All manner of fine thoughts and noble sentiments come into his mind. I
have known poems to be written, or at least conceived, on such an
occasion. I have known confirmed cynics turn into Nature-worshippers,
like my servant here, as they pulled up their window-blinds to let in
the sun. I have known men resolve to give up the dice for ever, and at
least one who held to the resolution for a week.

LADY: He was a hero indeed.

NOBLEMAN: I have even known men determine to end their lives forthwith
at the pistol's point, which was the most honourable decision they could
make, besides being the best service they could render to their fellows.

LADY (_suddenly grave_): And you have known some who carried it out,
perhaps?

NOBLEMAN: One or two, madam. Their souls rest in the gamesters'
paradise. The rest were the prey of human weakness. To leave the world
gracefully requires spirit as well as breeding.

LADY: It is never easy to break with the past. Still harder to break
with oneself.

NOBLEMAN: And so upon the whole, it is better not to try.

LADY: You think so, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: We should accept our fortunes as we wear our clothes; they are
made to measure and fit us tolerably well. (_Drinking._) But if virtue
must be encouraged, give me the green tables.

LADY: Your path to reform is rough, my lord, and looks none too safe. We
women must beware of it. Is there no means less drastic by which we may
reach the state of contentment? I doubt if our purses are long enough to
run your way.

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): They can always be lengthened.

LADY: By our generous masters, true. But how shall we be sure of their
generosity? It seems that you are not a believer in the goodness of
human nature.

NOBLEMAN (_setting down his glass again_): Perhaps, madam, you have
heard of the Renaissance? I would not weary you, but it may be the name
has met your ears.

LADY: Do you mean the revival of learning?

NOBLEMAN: The revival of ignorance, madam. The return of black
superstition.

LADY: But one had always supposed----

NOBLEMAN: The grand discovery of the Renaissance--if we are to call it a
discovery--was the goodness of man. The prime delusion. The new Serpent
in Eden. Since that sop was thrown to man's conceit, the creature has
strutted in his garden like a peacock on holiday. Whatever may be wrong,
he is right. Whatever may be bad, he is good. He has spread a tail of
fine feathers that he calls his humanity, and grows insufferable. Order
went out of the world when the thought of human goodness came into it.

LADY: So you would have us acknowledge our baseness, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: It is the least we can do.

LADY: For my part I am ready to make confession. But I miss the Jesuit
chaplain who should run at your lordship's heels.

NOBLEMAN (_turning to the_ MAN): Here is--but no. Unhappily I carry a
heretic about with me.

LADY (_with a smile_): Then even your lordship lives above your
principles.

NOBLEMAN: I keep him to convince me of their soundness. Eh, Charles?

MAN (_impassive_): Your lordship knows best.

NOBLEMAN: He is of the opposite camp, and a good enemy. You know, madam,
that men reason to strengthen their own prejudices, and not to disturb
their adversary's convictions.

LADY: I have often suspected as much in listening to an argument.

NOBLEMAN: My man has never yet agreed with me. On the day when we cease
to fall out I shall dismiss him. He satisfies a craving inbred in us,
the wrestler's instinct. A heart of oak, a spirit of steel.

LADY: We learn more of men every day. I blush to confess that my maid
agrees with me on all occasions.

NOBLEMAN: It is no more than her duty, madam. Women----

LADY: Women are not wrestlers. No, my lord. They are the prize, as we
are often told.

NOBLEMAN: A prize worth many a bout.

LADY (_rising_): O, my lords and masters! Your world of compliments,
your world of artifice, your world of sense and instinct!

NOBLEMAN: It is the world we know, madam. The rest is guesswork.

LADY: The rest is dreaming. Do you never dream, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: Indeed, most pleasantly. Of such an inn as this, and such a
supper-table of the wits. The painted sign swings in the wind above the
eaves, the lamps are lighted, and around us flicker shadows of
ourselves. (_Turning to find the_ MAN _at his elbow_.) Something too
solid, perhaps.

LADY: There stands a spinet. Shall we make music to clear the air of
such philosophy?

NOBLEMAN: By all means. Charles, you shall give us a song.

MAN: My lord----

LADY (_turning to him_): Do you sing, sir?

NOBLEMAN: As the thrush warbles.

MAN: My lord, I would not----

NOBLEMAN: But you shall.

LADY: Pray do not press him, my lord. I will sing for him.

NOBLEMAN: Madam, you are too kind. The fellow is stubborn.

LADY: To sing for others is nothing new to me.

        [_The_ MAN _opens the spinet for her_.

                   SONG.

LADY: I have the flaunting air, she said,
      Laughing remorse away
      For vanities that now are dead,
      Dear follies of a day.

      Like a great golden ship she rode,
      Capricious at her ease,
      Spreading a sail to catch the mode
      Of every idle breeze.

      A dancing cloak she wore above
      Her pale serenity:
      O lamp of faith, O light o' love,
      Which was more dear to me?

NOBLEMAN: It is an excellent song, but I do not remember hearing the
words before.

LADY: They were made for an occasion that your lordship has not
foreseen.

NOBLEMAN: Indeed. And now we must keep our followers no longer from
their supper. The kitchen yawns for them.

LADY (_to her_ MAID): You may go, Louise.

NOBLEMAN (_to his_ MAN): And you, Charles.

        [_Exeunt_ MAID _and_ MAN. _The_ NOBLEMAN _and the_ LADY _alone_.

LADY: I wish to be frank with you, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: I am honoured to deserve such a confidence.

LADY: I think you followed me from Bath.

NOBLEMAN: I set out on the same night as your ladyship.

LADY: In the small hours of the morning.

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): It happened that the hour was early.

LADY: Happened!

NOBLEMAN: The road to London is open to all travellers who pay the
tolls.

LADY: And some of them, it seems, must pay heavily.

NOBLEMAN: Those are the drawbacks of travel.

LADY: You are the Prince's friend, I think?

NOBLEMAN: Many friendships have been lost by being claimed. Let us say
an acquaintance.

LADY: At least you are his companion at the tables, for he has spoken of
you.

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): Favourably, I trust?

LADY: He called you a good loser.

NOBLEMAN: His Highness has the best of reasons for knowing that.

LADY: You followed me unknown to him, with a purpose of your own. What
was that purpose?

NOBLEMAN (_gallantly_): Need we look far for the answer?

LADY: Farther than this room, my lord, or the accident that brought us
together, or your evident courage as a horseman. You and I are no
friends. We need not play at love-making.

NOBLEMAN: I protest----

LADY: We need not play at love-making, my lord. Fine words and good
manners, if you will. Fine thoughts and handsome sentiments, as many as
you please. But there is no love lost between us.

NOBLEMAN (_in admiration_): You are a woman of spirit. I could
almost----

LADY: You could almost covet the thing you do not desire, which is
myself.

NOBLEMAN: Hard words.

LADY: Hard thoughts, my lord. Now why did you follow me?

NOBLEMAN: There is a code of honour that imposes silence in such
affairs.

LADY: I have heard of it. A man's code. It decrees that women shall not
be spoken of, but only marketed.

NOBLEMAN: Protected, madam.

LADY: Protected, if you like it better. A man's code, with one chief
commandment.

NOBLEMAN: And that is?

LADY: Thou shalt not be made a laughing-stock.

NOBLEMAN: Excellent.

LADY: A runaway wife makes a fool of her husband. A runaway mistress
makes her lover farcical. On such occasions men put their heads
together, solemn as church owls, and mumble their precious code of
honour. I know, my lord. While women curtsey to them and thank them for
their chivalry.

NOBLEMAN: Is this a war of the sexes?

LADY: And what if it be? O, I am not one of the wives who sit and wait
for favours! Or even one of the mistresses who aspire to be wives, with
one hand on their deed of settlement and the other on the cradle. You
need not trouble to protect my name. When I give, I give all for
nothing. I am free of your property laws.

NOBLEMAN: Yet the fortunate man who has once pleased you has his pride
to consider.

LADY: The Prince, you mean?

NOBLEMAN: I am naming no names.

LADY: Let him consider it. I will give him leisure enough and to spare.

NOBLEMAN: You parted abruptly. Even noticeably.

LADY: And how should we part? Am I to wait until I am forty, to be
pensioned off and receive a lodge in a Royal park, where I shall keep
spaniels and subscribe to the charities? Thank you! I leave that to your
gentlewomen, who have so far forgotten their dignity as to toy with a
lover. I am plain woman, and will make my own way in life.

NOBLEMAN: There are some ways that would evidently be inconvenient.

LADY: For instance?

NOBLEMAN: For instance, if you should return to the public stage.

LADY: You think I should not be popular?

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): On the contrary, madam. Too popular.

LADY: And why, pray?

NOBLEMAN: Your affairs, I think, are common knowledge.

LADY: I have noticed that the more pains men give themselves to shield a
woman's name, the more widely her affairs are known.

NOBLEMAN: For that we are indebted to your sex rather than ours.

LADY: And if I should defy the ban, and return to my profession?

NOBLEMAN: Then, madam, a means would be found of preventing you. The
playhouses are not uncontrolled.

LADY: Would you rob me of a living?

NOBLEMAN: We should reluctantly deprive the public of a scandal.

LADY: "We," my lord?

NOBLEMAN: I venture to speak in the name of the Court.

LADY: So I am to consider you as an ambassador of the Prince?

NOBLEMAN: An ambassador without credentials.

LADY: Engaged on a mission that is not without risk?

NOBLEMAN: Risk, madam?

LADY: What if his Highness should overtake us here?

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): Set your mind at rest. We shall be undisturbed.

LADY: Undisturbed? I begin to understand you. (_A silence._) You will
oblige me, my lord, by ceasing to drink in my company.

NOBLEMAN: This is a common tavern, I think.

LADY: But I am not a common woman.

NOBLEMAN (_raising his eyebrows_): Indeed?

LADY: You will oblige me, my lord, by sending for your horses and
meddling no more with ladies in distress.

NOBLEMAN: You know that my horses are lame.

LADY: I had forgotten it.

NOBLEMAN: They were lamed in your service, madam.

LADY: Your chivalry is faultless.

NOBLEMAN: We must pass the night under this roof. It is better to be
friends.

LADY: Friends! You dare to speak of friendship! You, of all the fops and
toadies who corrupt the world! You, the philosopher of the green
tables! You, the spirit of intelligence among your dicing, drinking,
lecherous set! You, the pimp of fashion! You, the cold heart of
debauchery! You speak of friendship! It is from you, and men like you,
that I have fled. Every leaf of every tree is more companionable. We
pass the night under this roof, it is true. But beware, my lord, how you
seek to dispose of me. I will not return at any man's bidding. Already I
am free. Search for runaway wives, if you will, but let me take my own
road. Go back to your Prince and tell him what I have said.

NOBLEMAN (_coolly_): A pretty outburst, madam. I vow that indignation
suits you very well. It gives complexion to your native breeding.

LADY: My breeding is not yours, my lord. Nor is my destiny. When I set
out from Bath I left the comedy of manners behind me. We are strangers
to each other. I am a woman you have never known.

NOBLEMAN: I believe you are still a woman of sense.

LADY: You thought me a woman of taste, and I have condescended to abuse
you like a drab. You thought me a woman of heart, and I have stooped to
threaten a dog with a whipping.

NOBLEMAN (_angry_): Be careful, madam. You are making an enemy.

LADY: We both know how to value an enemy. Good night to you--my lord.

        [_Exit the_ LADY. _The_ NOBLEMAN _alone_.

NOBLEMAN (_drinking_): Vixen! Play-actress! But a creature of spirit,
worth a man's taming. Would it have been wiser to make love to
her?--No, a fool's trick. These spirited women see the game too clearly,
and then we are a laughing-stock. Yes, there was a thrust.--Cards on the
table are better. Frankness draws them out. They speak their mind.--She
stoops to threaten a dog with a whipping, does she? I'll humble her for
that. My lady shall eat those words: I'll teach her to stoop. But
how?--We must change our tactics. Why not--why not----? I have it!
(_Clapping his hands._) Charles! (_Going to the door and calling_)
Charles!

        [_Enter the_ MAN.

MAN: My lord?

NOBLEMAN: I have use for you, Charles. High diplomacy--a game after your
own heart. You shall play the comedy of your life. Listen. This fine
lady has had the effrontery to call me a dog.

MAN: Your lordship is surely mistaken.

NOBLEMAN: No, that very word. Dog!

MAN: Is such ingratitude possible?

NOBLEMAN: It rankles, Charles. We must prepare a revenge to meet the
case. I will have proof positive of her stooping. And that is where you
will help me.

MAN: I, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: You, my leveller. You, my defender of the rights of man. You
shall be her lover.

MAN: I--her lover?

NOBLEMAN: Yes, you shall woo this high-stepping beauty, and bring her to
her knees.

MAN: I dare not look so far above me.

NOBLEMAN: Why, man, you have a figure like the rest of us, and a hand to
lay on your heart, and the wit to play at honesty. I swear I could
believe in you myself.

MAN: It takes two to make love, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: If you are one of them, she will be the other.

MAN: My lady may not be so easy.

NOBLEMAN: I'll answer for her, if you play your hand aright. Who is she,
at the best? A common singer who has climbed the back stairs of fortune!
And now that I think of it, she looks favourably upon you already. Twice
in my presence she has called you "Sir"--confound her insolence! Her
eyes leer promises. I vow that anyone can have her for the asking.

MAN (_in spite of himself_): Your lordship speaks too freely of this
lady.

NOBLEMAN: Ah! That tone is better. Chivalry, Charles--there's the note
to strike. Show her your heart of gold, and she will unbend, never fear.
More women are won by bluntness than by guile.

MAN: But a servant----

NOBLEMAN: True, she may have her pride. Show her that you have yours.
Stand firm upon the ground of equality.

MAN: And afterwards, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: What! A lover who talks of afterwards!

MAN: I am to be a lover with a purpose.

NOBLEMAN: It will be accomplished when my fine lady eats her dish of
humble-pie. Then we shall hear no more of her graces. She will be safely
in our hands. I shall be free of her malice, and you--well, you shall
not suffer, Charles. We will bring in a bill of indemnity on your
account. Name what sum you please. Will you do my errand, or at least
attempt it?

MAN: Your lordship asks much of me.

NOBLEMAN: Not more, I hope, than any man can perform.

MAN (_after a silence_): I am at your lordship's command.

NOBLEMAN: Good. Very good. And now for ways and means. Your divinity has
retired to her room. We must have no forcible entry--none of your
plebeian measures.

MAN (_with irony_): You disappoint me, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Prudence, Charles. These high-steppers require a pair of
hands. You will contrive a message and a meeting. The hour is late, the
inn is quiet, romance is in the air. The rest I leave to your invention.

MAN: Your lordship, I hope, will give me the benefit of your advice.

NOBLEMAN: Well, a gentle beginning would be best. Play the gallant
rescuer--that should go well. Then the groom with a soul above your
station--a sure card. Perhaps even the gentleman in disguise--if that
plot is not too threadbare.

MAN: I would prefer something fresher, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: You may be right. We should avoid the rut. But sympathy,
remember. Speak of me--none too kindly, for she hates me.

MAN: I will not speak ill of your lordship.

NOBLEMAN: Have no scruples. Say your worst.

MAN: Servants often speak ill of their masters. I think that is not the
way to my lady's confidence.

NOBLEMAN: A nice point. Yes, you have the finer touch.

MAN: I would rather rely on my own merits than your lordship's
shortcomings.

NOBLEMAN: Very shrewd! I am proud of you, Charles.

MAN: Thank you, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: But do not be too respectful. A gentlemanly ardour will do no
harm.

MAN: A manly ardour.

NOBLEMAN: Manly may be better. You have it all at your finger-tips. Why
should I presume to instruct you?

MAN: Your lordship's wishes are mine.

NOBLEMAN: Then press the advantage to the end. No half-measures. Do not
spare her.

MAN: You will give me time enough----

NOBLEMAN: All night, if you please. I shall be otherwise occupied. While
you attempt the mistress, I propose to woo the maid.

MAN: Your lordship at least is taking no risks.

NOBLEMAN: I mention the design for your encouragement.

MAN: It emboldens me to face the worst.

NOBLEMAN: The best, Charles. You will conquer, never fear. Do we
understand each other?

MAN: We do, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Then study your lover's part, for you will play it in an hour.

        [MAN _is about to withdraw_.

And send this baggage from the kitchen to her mistress.

        [_Exit_ MAN. _The_ NOBLEMAN _alone, then enter the_ MAID.

MAID (_with a curtsey, as she crosses to the stairs_): Your pardon, my
lord.

NOBLEMAN: There is my runaway. Well, are you content with your lodging?

MAID: Indeed I am, my lord. If we could meet such gentlemen as you every
day----

NOBLEMAN: The burden of travel would not be so troublesome. Thank you,
pretty one. But there would still be your mistress to please.

MAID: O, she may please herself, for all I care!

NOBLEMAN: I have been talking with her. You are happy to have such a
mistress.

MAID: So your lordship may think!

NOBLEMAN: A woman in a thousand. A woman to set men's hearts on fire.

MAID: That she does well enough!

NOBLEMAN (_deliberately_): You speak very freely of her.

MAID: O, I know my lady!

NOBLEMAN: Still your tone is saucy.

MAID (_uneasily_): I hope you did not tell my lady I spoke of her so?

NOBLEMAN: I would not betray you.

MAID: O, thank you, my lord!

NOBLEMAN (_lifting a forefinger_): Only watch that tongue of yours, my
dear. It will get you into trouble.

MAID: I will be careful, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: I believe you will. (_Considering her._) I know one pretty
woman finds it hard to praise another.

MAID (_blushing_): O, your lordship!

NOBLEMAN: There, you are safe with me. So this inn pleases you?

MAID: Very well, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Even without a follower in sight?

MAID (_glancing at the door_): Only----

NOBLEMAN: Only my monkish Charles. And tell me, does he tempt you?

MAID: No, my lord, but----

NOBLEMAN: But you have a mind to be tempted. Come closer.

        [_He whispers in her ear._

MAID: O, fie, my lord, fie! What do you take me for?

NOBLEMAN: I take you for a pretty woman who knows how to be discreet. Am
I right?

MAID: But----

NOBLEMAN: No buts. My door will be on the latch.

MAID: My lady is sure to guess----

NOBLEMAN: My lady spares no thoughts for you. Are we agreed?

MAID: Perhaps.

NOBLEMAN: Ah!

MAID: I said perhaps.

NOBLEMAN: The word of promise. (_Snatching a kiss from her._) And
so--presently!

        [_Exit_ NOBLEMAN. _The_ MAID _alone, then the_ MAN _enters, and
    busies himself in removing glasses from the table_.

MAID (_scornfully_): Not so much as a look. Fine manners indeed!

MAN (_turning to her_): Forgive me. My thoughts were gone
wool-gathering.

MAID: Have you been long in his service?

MAN: Five years.

MAID: I dare say you know more than you would tell.

MAN: We all know that, I hope.

MAID: And more than suits his lordship to be known?

MAN: That my lord could tell you.

MAID (_flashing out_): O, you can keep your secrets, and your
gentlemanly airs! I know your sort.

MAN (_quietly_): My lord is waiting for you.

MAID (_blustering_): My lady, you mean. Let her wait!

MAN: I mean my lord.

MAID: O, for shame! You were listening.

MAN: There was no need to listen.

MAID: These men! But what if I give him the go-by? What if you should
please me better?

MAN: I do not please women.

MAID: So you think, maybe. But ask the women first.

MAN: I will, when the time comes.

MAID: Not yet?

MAN: Not yet.

MAID: I like you, man.

MAN: It is good of you to tell me that.

        [_As she comes closer to him, with an air of coquetry, he bends
    down and kisses her hand._

MAID: My hand was never kissed before. (_A silence._) What sort of man
are you?

MAN: This glove was left by your lady in her coach. Will you take it to
her room as you pass?

MAID: I will say that you sent it.

MAN: You need not.

MAID: But I will. Good night, man.

MAN: Good night, maid.

MAID: Pleasant dreams, man.

        [_Exit the_ MAID. _The_ MAN, _alone, goes to the windows and
    opens them to the darkness_.

MAN: A woman wished me pleasant dreams. This echo from the
stillness--this babble of a sleeping world! On every hand men whisper
love. Set ears to earth and hear them murmur: "I love you," "Do you love
me?" "You are mine and I am yours." Still they sleep and spin through
nothingness. Shall we whisper so--we who have met in the night? Are we
sleepwalkers? Shall we march at every passion's call? Shall we weave a
pretty cloak of words and kisses? Shall we lift a mask or two of
trickery, only to meet another mask behind? It is a mask that brings us
face to face. The masks divide, the masks unite, and we are still in
darkness. We grope through labyrinths of self, our fingers grasping
thorns, our voices echoed by a wall. We seek for hands and not for lips.
O mockery of self, give eyes to love, give hands to lovers!

        [_The_ LADY _appears at the head of the stairs, carrying a
    lighted candle, and descends_.

LADY: I lay awake. The hours passed, and I began to fear the dawn.

MAN: To-morrow changes everything.

LADY: My maid is not in her room. This inn creaks with misgiving. It is
full of stratagems and mysteries. I must know the truth.

MAN: The truth is hidden in ourselves. Go to my lord, and you will find
the certainty of stratagems--the outer life. You will find a comedy in
the figure of a man. Go to your maid, and ask her why she sells her
kisses. You will find a tragedy in a woman's form. Is that world yours?
Is that the truth you look for?

LADY: I have come to you.

MAN: Here you will find nothing but riddles buried in our nature. It is
better not to dig for them.

LADY: You spoke to me as a friend. I knew that I could trust you.

MAN: Friendship is frankness. Do as I advise.

LADY: And that is?

MAN: Go to your room and sleep. Leave me to guard the buried thoughts.
Then we can part to-morrow and still be friends. But if we dig and dig,
we shall find corruption underground. We shall come upon your pride and
mine, your vanity and mine, your desires and mine--all the scattered
bones that moulder in us out of sight. Let them rest.

LADY: I am not afraid of little things.

MAN: But we are both afraid of their littleness.

LADY: I accept all that life offers. I hold out open hands to greet
sincerity.

MAN: No one has spoken such words to me before.

LADY: But I speak them.

MAN: The words are yours, the thoughts are mine. (_A silence._) You know
now that I love you.

LADY: You! But my friend, my friend--that cannot be.

MAN: And why not?

LADY: That cannot be.

MAN: So friendship is one thing, and love another? We find a barrier at
the outset. I warned you that it would be so.

LADY: I did not dream of love between us.

MAN: Nor did I dream. I awoke, and it was there. I was alone, and
suddenly we were together.

LADY: My friend, I think you speak in earnest.

MAN: And you hold out empty hands to soothe my pride.

LADY: I hold them out to cover my poverty. You honour me too much.

MAN: Words, words! I know that to say "I love you" is only the beginning
of love. Possession itself is only the beginning.

LADY: Believe me, it is often the end.

MAN: The end is in ourselves. The end is fulfillment.

LADY: Every mother fulfils herself. Is that called love?

MAN: Every spring renews the earth.

LADY: The spring may come too late. I have known too many men. Too many
arms have held me. I am tired of those arms outstretched, asking much
and giving little.

MAN: I am asking little and giving much.

LADY: A new lover indeed! What will you ask?

MAN: Yourself.

LADY: Is that so small a favour?

MAN: In the world where you speak of favours it may be the greatest. But
that world is not mine.

LADY: What more can a woman give than herself?

MAN: Those are words again. You repeat a lesson men have taught you.

LADY: And what do you offer? A wedding ring, perhaps. Are we to marry
and breed philosophers?

MAN: There are worse brats.

LADY: True, they might be gentlemen-in-waiting. Or----

MAN: Or their servants, you would say.

LADY: You are too conscious of your trade.

MAN: Because your head swims at the thought of the gulf between us.

LADY: That is no more than habit. All service is honourable.

MAN: No. It is infamous to serve luxury. It is shameful to pour wine
into gouty veins, it is base to creep between borrowed sheets of
quality. Lackeys do these things.

LADY: Not only lackeys, my friend. I have done them too.

MAN: We have both been waiting for this day.

LADY (_with a smile_): Come, you will not tell me that your love is of
long standing?

MAN: I have loved you since the first hour.

LADY: At Covent Garden? Is it possible? And through this weary round of
Bath and London you were there?

MAN: I stood in waiting. A door was opened, and you passed. A coach drew
up at a gateway, and you alighted. A lamp was lit in your window, a
blind was drawn. I stood below.

LADY: Unseen.

MAN: The crowd has many faces.

LADY: Yours was one of them. This courtship touches me. But I think
there was hatred in your love. Confess it--love for the woman, hatred
for the plaything and the mistress.

MAN: The same wheels splashed us both. I knew that we were one.

LADY: I have turned my back on that life, and yet . . . No, no, my
friend. Every meeting brings a parting. You shall keep your philosophy
and leave me my illusions.

MAN: I offer more than love.

LADY: Then it is more than I deserve. Listen, my friend. You were right
to hold my favours lightly. When a woman has given herself often enough,
once more or less makes no matter. The house is quiet, we are alone
together. You please me and I trust you. But because you offer more than
I can give, I will say no. Because you are upright and I am stooping,
it cannot be. Because we are friends, let us not risk falling out. I
cannot give a trifle to such as you.

MAN: I do not ask for trifles. Love is everywhere. The shallows are
alive with spawning lovers. This earth is peopled by them. Love is
everywhere, and yet the world is sick. Love is everywhere, and yet the
maggots thrive. We spring from love, we rot and wither in the name of
love, while the earth renews itself in stillness. I do not ask for dregs
of love. I do not ask for last year's leaves, or pebbles carried by the
stream.

LADY: To promise you more would wrong us both. O, my friend, you know
all that stands between us! You are ennobled by the truth of what you
feel, and yet you see me falsely. But my eyes are open still, and I can
see the world you ask me to forget. It is an ugly world, my friend, but
it is mine and yours. We cannot leave it out of reckoning.

MAN: Your pride speaks there.

LADY: Believe me, it is the rag of pride that covers humility. Do not
strip me of that; I will show you it is no more than a rag. All I have
given to others is yours for the asking. Leave it untouched, my friend.
Pass by and forget me.

MAN: I would strip the rags of pride from both of us. We have no more to
do with them. We have met and spoken; we are two who cannot forget. I
will not kneel to you, woman whom I serve. I will not beg from you,
woman whom I love. You will give what is in your heart.

LADY: And if it be empty?

MAN: It is not.

LADY: Can we be sure?

MAN: You and I know the ring of emptiness. We have lived long enough
without each other. Yesterday was empty, to-morrow may be empty, to-day
is full. The earth is round about us. The young corn sleeps standing in
the mist, and the fern-owl lies awake. The dew falls on trembling
leaves, and the sheep are thick in the fold. This inn where we have met
is wrapped in stillness--this house of ticking thoughts, this house of
whispering passions, this house of dreams that stir the face of night.
Words die in empty corridors; our natures live. You are mine already, as
I am yours. We are held in one embrace.

LADY: If that were true!

MAN: Our hands are clasped unseen, our lips are parted. One image of
serenity is in our minds. Ours, this solitude that blots the
recollection of ourselves. Ours, this meeting that divides us from the
past. Not mine alone, but ours! Already you have given all.

LADY (_in a low voice_): I think I have given much.

MAN: I have never touched you, and yet you have given all. There is no
parting between us.

LADY: There is no parting. (_Holding out her arms to him._) O, my
friend--my lover!

MAN (_taking her hands_): We are set free.

LADY: Is this for ever? I have never asked a man before--is this for
ever? Why should I ask you?

MAN: It is for ever and a day.

LADY (_suddenly_): I thought I heard footsteps.

MAN (_listening_): A horse moved in the stable.

LADY: Footsteps.

MAN: The outer life begins to stir again. To-morrow puts a foot upon the
floor.

LADY (_breaking from his embrace_): What have I done? Who are you--my
lover? Who are you, sir? (_Imperiously._) Answer me!

MAN: Shall I tell my lady that I am a gentleman in disguise, in league
with my lord? (_Bitterly._) And if I tell you so, will you believe me?

LADY: This world of stratagem! My heart is worn away. Take what is left
of it, and give me yours. I will believe your heart, my lover.


                                CURTAIN.




ACT III




                                ACT III

        [_The scene as before. Morning sunlight. Enter the_ INNKEEPER.

INNKEEPER: Eight o'clock of a bright morning, and nobody astir. Well,
it's not every day that we have the quality in the house. Let them sleep
their fill: I wager they have earned it. We were all young once. (_At
the window._) So they drew the shutters overnight, did they? That was to
let in the moonlight, I'll be bound. The moon for lovers. Here's a
candle burned to the socket, and another with a nightcap on. Ha, ha! You
could tell a tale if you would, my beauties. And here's my lady's
kerchief; she will need that before the day is out. (_Leaning over the
back of a chair._) Here it was she sat, with my lord bending over her
and whispering in her ear. And as she turned to hide her blushes the
kerchief slipped from her hand. Yes, that's plain. Then one candle
guttered, and the other was put out. The cap lay handy on the table.
There was moon enough to light them up the stairs. This way, my lady.
This way, my pretty one. And then she stops, maybe. Not so fast, my
lord, not so fast. And he falls on one knee and kisses her hand--a
proper nobleman. (_With a twinge._) My joints are creaking; that means a
change in the weather. I knew the morning was too bright to last.
(_Resuming his pantomime._) Then she draws her hand away, but gently,
leaving a promise on his lips. She runs a step or two; this way, maybe;
no, that way. And he follows after--out of the moonbeams into the dark.
She gives him the slip and gains the stair. And then she turns to look
at him. Not so fast, my lord--but with a smile. In one spring he is at
her feet. (_With another twinge._) Plague on my creaky knees; this is no
poor man's sport. (_Resuming._) She leaves her hand in his; the stair
is wide enough for two. They mount together. And so----

        [_His_ WIFE _has entered, and stands arms akimbo watching him_.

WIFE (_indignant_): And so! And so! What clowning is this?

INNKEEPER (_ruefully_): I said it was no poor man's sport. (_Rubbing his
knees._) 'Tis entertainment for the quality.

WIFE: I'll give you quality! Are they still a-bed?

INNKEEPER: They are indeed, and small blame to them.

WIFE: My lord and my lady can please themselves, but their servants
should have been stirring an hour ago.

INNKEEPER (_broadly_): And so they were, I warrant.

WIFE: I'll have no lie-a-bed followers in this house. Let me pass; I'll
rouse them sharp enough.

INNKEEPER: Not so fast, wife. They have the day before them--and we have
a week of their company if we make them at home.

WIFE: A week of fiddlesticks! What of the pair of saddle-horses that
Moony brought this morning?

INNKEEPER: Saddle-horses! Where did he get them?

WIFE: How should I know? At the Wheatsheaf, very likely. I found him
tying them up behind the barn, and all he would say was, he had his
orders.

INNKEEPER: Orders, indeed! He was sent on another errand.

WIFE: Yes, and paid a pretty sum to keep his mouth shut, if I know
Moony.

INNKEEPER: His lordship's servant spoke to me last night of horses. I
told him there was not a pair to be had this side of Oxford.

WIFE: And there they stand behind the barn, waiting for their riders.

INNKEEPER: That servant is too close for my liking.

WIFE: O, he's well enough. But watch his master, I say, and see your
reckoning is paid before they cross the threshold.

INNKEEPER: What, woman, would you presume to cast a slur upon his
lordship?

WIFE: Trust him as far as you can see him, I say. And have your
reckoning made ready.

INNKEEPER: They will be here this day week, I tell you.

WIFE: Maybe. And maybe not.

INNKEEPER (_uneasily_): This is some lovers' quarrel. My lord was too
brisk, perhaps. They may make it up.

WIFE: You with your lovers' quarrels! These travellers have more than
love between them.

        [_Enter the_ MAN, _coming downstairs_.

INNKEEPER: Good morning to you. We were awaiting his lordship's orders.

MAN: Presently. I have to speak with the man who was sent on an errand
last evening.

INNKEEPER: You will find him in the yard.

MAN: I thank you.

        [_He crosses over and goes out._

WIFE: I like that man better than his master.

INNKEEPER: My father said to me "My son," he said, "an innkeeper's trade
is the merriest of trades, for he lights overnight the lamp of tomorrow.
It is the fairest of trades, for the pleasures of sleep are never
entered in the bill. It is the plainest of trades, for every customer
must be taken at his word." Now I take my lord to be a nobleman, for he
calls himself so; and my lady to be a woman of rank, for she has a
queenly way with her; and their followers are no concern of ours. So let
us keep all as long as we may, and send them satisfied on their road.

        [_Enter the_ NOBLEMAN, _coming downstairs_.

INNKEEPER (_bowing_): Good morning to your lordship. I trust your
lordship slept well?

NOBLEMAN (_with a yawn_): As well as could be expected.

INNKEEPER: Ha, ha! I understand your lordship. The comforts a poor house
can offer----

NOBLEMAN: An excellent house, innkeeper. A most hospitable house. Send
my servant to me.

INNKEEPER (_about to go_): I hope your lordship does not think of
leaving us yet awhile?

NOBLEMAN: On no account. That reminds me--how are the horses?

INNKEEPER (_with hesitation_): Which horses, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: Why, mine and my lady's.

INNKEEPER: All dead lame, my lord. Three days will not see them on the
road.

NOBLEMAN: Then we shall be in no hurry. Now send my servant.

INNKEEPER: I will, my lord. (_To his_ WIFE.) What did I say?

        [_Exeunt_ INNKEEPER _and_ WIFE. _The_ NOBLEMAN _alone, then
    enter the_ MAID, _coming downstairs. She curtsies to him, and is
    about to cross over to the door._

NOBLEMAN: No good morning for me, pretty one?

MAID (_with another curtsey_): Good morning, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Is your mistress astir?

MAID: My lady will be with your lordship presently.

NOBLEMAN: I hope she passed a good night?

MAID: Your lordship should ask her that yourself.

NOBLEMAN: Did you hear nothing as you plaited her hair?

MAID: Nothing, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Discreet baggage! It is true that nights are made to be
forgotten. (_Coming close to her._) You can forget, I think?

MAID: Perhaps, my lord.

NOBLEMAN (_slipping a coin into her hand_): We will rock your memory to
sleep.

MAID (_glancing at the money_): Is that all your lordship has to say to
me?

NOBLEMAN: This is the morning. What would you have me say? Still we must
not be ungrateful. Thank you, my dear.

MAID: Thank you, my lord.

        [_She goes out. The_ MAN _returns_.

NOBLEMAN: Well, Charles. What news of the conquest?

MAN: I obeyed my lord's command.

NOBLEMAN: You played the lover?

MAN: I did, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Successfully, no doubt?

MAN: That is for my lord to judge.

NOBLEMAN: At least you played with eloquence. Come, Charles, I will
swear that you were eloquent--a furnace of sighs quenched in a torrent
of declaration.

MAN: I spoke as the occasion moved me.

NOBLEMAN: We can none of us do more. Sincerity is the lover's cue. But
you were bold, were you not?

MAN: Perhaps too bold.

NOBLEMAN: A good fault. You stood your ground as an equal? You cut the
figure of the faithful friend?

MAN: Yes, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: No flattery, I hope--no fawning on her self-esteem. You were
the modest adorer, but not too modest--the humble servant without the
cap in hand.

MAN: Your lordship guesses rightly.

NOBLEMAN: Because I know you, Charles, and I know this woman. She is
only to be won by the pretence of candour. There is one key that unlocks
every heart, and you were the man to find it.

MAN: I fear your lordship rates me too highly.

NOBLEMAN: You are a pearl among men.

MAN: Still your lordship may not be satisfied with the result.

NOBLEMAN: What! You will not tell me that you failed with her?

MAN: My lady--but I dare not confess it to your lordship----

NOBLEMAN: Speak, man!

MAN: My lady perceived the truth behind my make-believe.

NOBLEMAN: The truth! Is it possible?

MAN: Certain, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Curse her cunning! These clever women are the plague. So my
plan has miscarried?

MAN: It has, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Strange. I would have staked a fortune on your success. I
would have taken oath that she was at heart a sentimentalist--one of the
creatures moved by words. (_Yawning._) And so you passed a lonely night?
My luckless Charles! I will confess that I was more fortunate.

MAN: I congratulate your lordship.

NOBLEMAN: You need not envy me, Charles. The tender passion is much
overrated by the poets. They have their living to earn, poor fellows.
The only lasting pleasures are those of the mind. Now I am breaking an
excellent rule, which is not to be philosophical after supper or before
breakfast. But you need have no regrets. You failed nobly, you failed
gloriously, and perhaps it was better so. One of us at least upholds the
banner of chastity.

MAN: Your lordship thinks that my success would have been short-lived?

NOBLEMAN: The morning brings reflection. Even had you succeeded, we
should still have had her pride to reckon with. Sooner or later she
would have found you out. And then a woman tricked, a woman
humbled--such cattle are dangerous.

MAN: You may be right, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: These midnight romances are always repented. They can even be
denied when the proof is lacking. I have denied them myself on occasion.

MAN: A man of honour must often do as much.

NOBLEMAN: Precisely, Charles. And where a man lies from chivalry, a
woman will lie in self-defence. Come, do not take your failure to heart.
My scheme was too ambitious. It was too much to hope that my lady would
stoop in one flight from the bedchamber to the kitchen.

MAN: Your lordship is outspoken.

NOBLEMAN: Believe me, Charles, I know how to value your qualities. You
are more than the most excellent of servants. But as a lover--ha, ha,
ha! I must have drunk a glass of wine too much last evening. I trusted
an impulse when I incited you to play the gallant. Be content with your
philosophy, and order me my coffee.

MAN: I will, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Until it is ready, I will walk in the garden and pay your
respects to the goddess of nature. She will not scorn you--ha, ha, ha!

        [_Exit the_ NOBLEMAN, _in good humour. The_ MAN _remains_.

MAN: My lord shoots at random, and poisoned barbs fly home. If words are
death, can words be life? May be that she was moved by words--enraptured
by love's litany, as women are, they say. May be that I saw manhood
mirrored in some cloudy pool of self-deception. May be that we are
sentimentalists--that bitter word! May be that love itself was deepened
by the stream of utterance. No, that is false: the depth was in
ourselves from the beginning. That river sprang from living rock. Still,
no more words. I will not plead a second time. The wooing hour is past.
I will not flatter, or persuade, or supplicate. I will not ape the
chivalrous gentleman whose memory is short for ladies' favours. I will
remember. But if words are death, let life be silence.

        [_Exit the_ MAN. _The_ LADY _descends the stairs, and a little
    after her the_ MAID _enters from the other side_.

MAID (_in astonishment_): O, my lady----!

LADY (_turning to her_): Well?

MAID: I ask pardon, my lady, but your dress----

LADY: The riding-habit surprises you? (_With a smile._) I found it in
the trunk you had so thoughtfully packed. It will be needed for the rest
of my journey.

MAID: But your ladyship knows I cannot ride.

LADY: I know that, Louise. You and I are about to part.

MAID: To part! O my lady, my lady, do not leave me here.

LADY: You will be safe enough. Indeed I think you may be handsomely
rewarded, for you will have a tale to tell or leave untold. Our masters
are liberal on such occasions.

MAID: Let me follow you! do not leave me with----

LADY: With whom, my child? Has any man done you an injury?

MAID: My lady, I meant no harm! Overlook it for this once!

LADY: Last night your room was empty.

MAID: My lord was pressing---- I was weak---- I meant no harm----

LADY: My lord? I understand you now. This inn brings happiness and
misery together--deepest delight and emptiest desolation.

MAID: O, my lady, forgive me! I promise you it is for the last time!

LADY: Can any of us promise so much?

MAID: I swear it!

LADY: Poor child! Commit no perjuries on my account. My fortune, not
your folly, is the reason of our parting. We have no more to say to one
another. Bring me my cloak when I call. And now leave me to your noble
lover, for I have to speak with him alone.

        [_Exit the_ MAID. _The_ LADY _seats herself at the spinet and
    plays_.

                    SONG.

LADY: Go, all pursue the dreams of night,
      Grey shadows of the moon;
      My love and I make our delight
      The golden hour of noon.

      Let nightingales enchant the breeze
      Within a leafy lair;
      Our song the murmur of the bees,
      The quiver of the air.

      In silences of starry hours
      Let sleepers take their pleasure:
      But sweeter is the breath of flowers
      Where hearts will dance a measure.

        [_The_ NOBLEMAN _returns from the garden_.

NOBLEMAN (_gallantly_): You have brought the sunshine with you, madam.

LADY: It is a lovely morning, my lord, but I would gladly exchange it
for the night.

NOBLEMAN: We can put the clock forward to please you.

LADY: But I would put it back.

NOBLEMAN: Indeed?

LADY: I dread these mornings, when men who have been gallant are so no
longer, and women who have been rash must nurse their pride alone.
Perhaps I have seen too many of them. Our moods are dangerous, my lord.
Our hearts are our greatest enemies. At night we yield to falsehood, but
in this pitiless sunlight we see the truth too plainly.

NOBLEMAN: I confess that I am still groping in the dark.

LADY: O, my lord, you are fortunate! But I think your eyes are as good
as mine.

NOBLEMAN (_gallantly_): Indeed I wish they were.

LADY: No compliments, I beg of you. (_With a sigh._) I am too conscious
of their insincerity. Your tone to me is cold this morning.

NOBLEMAN: I fear it was none too warm last night.

LADY: There you do yourself an injustice. O, we had words, I know; there
was a misunderstanding between us. At first I was mistaken in you. You
were harsh, my lord, and I was unfeeling. But you will not deny the
generosity with which you made amends.

NOBLEMAN (_uneasily_): I do not remember----

LADY: Must I remind you? That is not the woman's part. Spare my pride.

NOBLEMAN: Am I dreaming, or was I----?

LADY: Must I remind you of your courtesy, your delicacy, your ardour--of
all the true nobility, so far removed from the false nobility of rank,
that streamed from your nature?

NOBLEMAN: I am at a loss to understand----

LADY: O, my lord, you may forget, but I shall not! As I listened to
those passionate words, I knew that here at last was your better self.

NOBLEMAN: My better---- (_With an outburst._) This is a trap, madam!

LADY: Do not be cruel. Do not deny your own chivalry. I cannot bear
that. I am only a woman, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: You are a vixen!

LADY: Those words from you! O, what is this fatal circle into which I
have stepped? Once a mistress, always a mistress. A plaything tossed
from man to man. One day the Prince's, and the next--yours.

NOBLEMAN: I deny it! Shameless creature! Will you have the insolence to
claim me as your lover?

LADY (_turning from him_): O poor, poor women! And cruel, cruel men!

NOBLEMAN: You lie, and you know it. I hated you from the first. Not a
word of love has passed between us.

LADY (_with mock despair_): Have I been deceived in you, my lord? Are
you like all the rest, who win a woman's heart only to betray her
weakness? Will you not even boast of the conquest you have made?

NOBLEMAN: Enough of this mummery! I have never so much as approached
you.

LADY: All men are alike. Our reputation is nothing to them.

NOBLEMAN: Yours, madam, can look after itself.

LADY: Be careful, my lord, how you drive a desperate woman. If we should
be overtaken here, whose reputation will suffer--yours or mine?

NOBLEMAN: You would never dare to charge me with----

LADY: With abusing your position as the gallant rescuer? And why not?

NOBLEMAN: I can prove it false.

LADY: How, my lord? We passed the night under this roof. Will any one
believe you passed it alone?

NOBLEMAN: I will prove----

LADY: An alibi, my lord? It may be difficult.

NOBLEMAN: I will swear my innocence.

LADY: That would indeed be chivalrous. But what if I confessed? Who
would imagine you in the part of Joseph?

NOBLEMAN: The Prince would never believe you.

LADY: Is a confession ever disbelieved by a lover?

NOBLEMAN: All who know me will accept my word.

LADY: Your word of honour, my lord, against a woman's avowal of her
guilt? We shall see.

NOBLEMAN (_blustering_): Such a tale is on the face of it ridiculous.

LADY: But not so ridiculous as your denials. Come, my lord, you
underrate your success as a cavalier. You cut a very presentable figure,
I assure you. You have broken scores of hearts in your time.

NOBLEMAN: O, this is monstrous!

LADY: A handsome face, an elegant figure. I might very well be tempted
in earnest.

NOBLEMAN (_retreating_): I beg you to consider----

LADY: Calm yourself, my lord. We will not proceed to extremes; your
virtue is safe in my keeping. But remember, one word in the Prince's
ear, and I am rid of you both. I leave you to order pistols for
daybreak, as great gentlemen do on such occasions.

NOBLEMAN: And if he should fall?

LADY: Have no fear, my lord; I will not claim you. You shall kick your
heels in the Tower alone.

NOBLEMAN: So this is a woman's honour!

LADY: We fight with the weapons that come to hand.

        [_A silence._

NOBLEMAN: Very well, madam. If I own myself beaten--what are your terms?

LADY: Terms, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: Come, we understand each other. We can conclude a bargain.

LADY: I do not traffic with my lovers.

NOBLEMAN: I am not your lover!

LADY: So you declare, my lord. But can you prove it?

NOBLEMAN: I will make an offer. You shall be safely escorted to London.

LADY: Indeed? And safely hidden there, no doubt?

NOBLEMAN: Willingly.

LADY: And housed and fed? And carried to Dover, and put aboard the
packet?

NOBLEMAN: As you please.

LADY: And all from dread of a word I may whisper in the Prince's ear?

NOBLEMAN: A word, remember, that would harm you as well as me.

LADY: These are miracles of kindness indeed. And who, pray, will be my
escort?

NOBLEMAN: My servant can be trusted.

LADY: Your servant? Are you sure of that?

NOBLEMAN: He is a plain fellow, but honest. I would rely on him as
on----

LADY: As on yourself, my lord? Shall I not ask for more security?

NOBLEMAN: Let us be reasonable. I have had occasion to confide in him
before now.

LADY: You have entrusted him with delicate missions, no doubt?

NOBLEMAN: Often.

LADY: And he has never failed you?

NOBLEMAN: I assure you, madam, that he is the man for your purpose.

LADY: Then I suppose I must believe you. But this man of yours has a
romantic character, I think. He has honoured me by particular
attentions.

NOBLEMAN: You astonish me.

LADY: And even by a sort of declaration.

NOBLEMAN: Is it possible? As you say, there may be a strain of romance
in his nature. No doubt you put him in his place?

LADY: Yes, my lord. I was able to judge his sentiments at their true
value.

NOBLEMAN: Ha, ha! My luckless Charles! Forgive my laughter, madam, but
the fellow's presumption tickles me. My Charles a wooer! Ha, ha! I only
wish I could have heard his protestations.

LADY: Your lordship would have found them vastly amusing.

NOBLEMAN: I should have split my sides.

LADY: Of course you regret this affront that has been offered to me?

NOBLEMAN: Naturally, madam, I regret it. But remember, a spice of
devotion in a servant does no harm. He will be all the safer as an
escort.

LADY: You think so?

NOBLEMAN: I am sure of it.

LADY: It seems that your lordship is bent upon throwing us together at
all costs.

NOBLEMAN: Come, I vow on my honour that you can trust him.

LADY: Your honour should be good enough for me. But can I trust myself,
my lord?

NOBLEMAN (_suspicious_): Madam?

LADY: When my heart is once given, there is no turning back.

        [_Enter the_ MAN, _hastily_.

NOBLEMAN: Well, Charles?

MAN (_breathless_): My lord, may I speak with you alone?

NOBLEMAN: Speak, man. My lady and I are agreed.

MAN: My lord, the Prince's coach----

NOBLEMAN (_turning pale_): Not--not at the door?

MAN: Not yet, my lord. But it comes this way.

NOBLEMAN: Impossible! He should be in Oxford.

MAN: The coach turned back to the cross-roads. By now it has reached the
foot of the long hill. It will be here in an hour.

NOBLEMAN: An hour, and all our horses lame! We are lost!

LADY: My lord, I demand your protection.

NOBLEMAN: We are lost!

LADY: I demand the protection you have promised me.

NOBLEMAN: I am powerless to help you.

LADY: Then I must speak.

NOBLEMAN: No, no! Listen to me. Are you prepared to fly on foot?

LADY: If need be, yes.

NOBLEMAN: The need is desperate. The Prince must not find you here. (_To
the_ MAN.) Charles, you will prepare to convey this lady safely to
London. I will give you a letter to my cousin, who will keep her hidden
in her house. Travel by what means you can discover; I will join you in
three days. You understand me?

MAN: I understand, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: Pen and paper. I will write instantly.

        [_Exit the_ NOBLEMAN, _hastily. The_ LADY _and the_ MAN
    _remain_.

LADY: Is this a dream? I played a comedy while I slept. My lord stood
there, I here. We matched our wits against each other. Far away, as if
in a playhouse, I heard the words we spoke. I lied to him, he lied to
me. I pressed him and he weakened. I breathed a tainted, stifling air.
My hands were soiled. (_She looks at them._) And then you came. A sudden
brightness. I heard the song of birds again. I felt the buds that opened
to the sun. O, my friend and my lover, take my hand in yours and let us
go together!

MAN (_motionless_): The Prince's coach comes up the hill.

LADY: Was that tale true? I thought it was a line of the comedy--an echo
of our make-believe.

MAN: His coach comes nearer, step by step.

LADY: I can hear no sound of grinding wheels; that world is silent. I
can see no gouty figure propped among the cushions. My lids are closed;
I see you only.

MAN: He is there. Your world is there. Wake! Wake! I take no dreamer
with me. I take no mistress from cloudland. This is morning. Wake,
woman, wake!

LADY: Do you call me woman?

MAN: I make so bold, madam.

LADY: Madam? What tone is this?

MAN: The tone of a man who knows that you are woman. The tone of a lover
who will have all or nothing.

LADY: Have I not given all?

MAN: No, madam. You have given such favours as a woman grants to a man
who pleases her--such tributes as are paid by sentiment to passion.

LADY: Sentiment! Passion! Will you deny the reality of my--of what I
thought was love for you?

MAN: I deny nothing, but I claim more than favours. Are you ready to
venture your life--yourself?

LADY: Yes, I believe that I am.

MAN: But I am not!

LADY: You----?

MAN: I am not! O, it should be easy! The plot is laid for us; the web is
spun that sets us free. The doors are opened. Smooth words are all that
we need say to one another--words as smooth as kisses. I cannot speak
them. I cannot play your comedy of love. I cannot trust your faith in
me. You think that in this tangle of falsehood I am true. You take my
hand--blindly. But I too am false. When I made love to you, it was at my
lord's command.

LADY: You!

MAN: It was a trick to humble you. It was a revenge of my lord's
planning. You were to stoop to a servant, and put yourself in his power.

LADY: O, monstrous! I have put myself in yours!

MAN: I played you false when I consented to the stratagem. I will make
no excuse. I will not say it was because I loved you----

LADY (_proudly_): No, sir, do not say that! Leave me some pride, I beg
of you! O, infamous! Falsehood on falsehood--maze within maze of lying!

MAN: So now you are awakened. The dream is over. You need have no fear
of me. I have as much honour as a gentleman--neither more nor less. Your
secret is safe. There is no one who need ever guess it.

LADY: You have not betrayed me to----

MAN: To my master? No, madam.

LADY: But why not? Is it possible that you are----?

MAN: My lord is not in my confidence.

LADY: O, why did you speak? There would have been time enough to tell
me. I was ready to go with you! I was ready to trust you!

MAN: You were ready to deceive yourself--to follow where fortune
beckoned--to listen to midnight whispers of romance. You were prepared
to take a risk, madam. I was for certainty. You were for hope, I was for
knowledge. You have given me a trifle, I have given you something more.
Return to Bath in the royal coach that pursues you. In a little while,
perhaps, you will smile at the adventure. I will follow my lord to
London, and leave him there. We shall not meet again.

LADY: You are bitter. You are unjust.

MAN: I see the line of ladies from whom you are descended. You see the
line of serving-men that stretches out behind me. But which of us can
see the day when they will meet and take each other's hands? Go back to
your own world.

LADY: You know that I shall not go back. This coach that climbs the hill
is nothing to me. Within it sits a life that is already dead. My life
began again in you. My friend, for a moment I doubted you; I beg your
forgiveness. Your voice was cold; I thought you unfaithful. Now I see
that you spoke from an open heart. I throw myself on your mercy. Take me
as I am and make me yours.

MAN: It may be too late.

        [_Re-enter the_ NOBLEMAN, _with a letter in his hand_.

NOBLEMAN: Here is the letter, Charles. Now lose no time. Are you both
ready?

LADY: Presently, my lord. A cloak is all I need.

NOBLEMAN (_impatient_): For God's sake hasten, madam. This is no time
for ceremony. I will speak with the innkeeper. It may be he knows of a
hiding-place.

        [_Exit the_ NOBLEMAN.

LADY (_turning to the_ MAN _with a smile_): You see they are resolved
that we shall fly together. Will you come, my friend, or shall I forget
my sex and kneel to you?

MAN: At this moment my lord finds the pair of horses I have placed
behind the inn. He takes them for his own discovery. He will urge us to
mount and ride away.

LADY: I am ready.

MAN: What is this flight but one more stratagem, one more betrayal of
ourselves?

LADY: What would you do?

MAN: Remain here and declare the truth that we are lovers. Then you
shall come with me if you will.

LADY: No, not that, I beg of you!

MAN: Are we criminals? Must we be hypocrites?

LADY: My friend, let the past sleep. You and I together are awakened. I
will not see you slighted by these men whom we despise. Leave them to
their dreams; leave them their world to play with. What are they to us?

MAN: And if I tell you I am resolved to meet them now?

LADY: My lover, I have asked nothing for my own sake. I will ask one
thing only. Spare my weakness; do not try to make a heroine of a woman.
I have lived in a servitude baser than yours. These gentlemen are my
masters too. I have given them my youth, I have lent myself to their
intrigues, I have sold my honour for their rank and fashion. They have
left me nothing but my heart, which you possess. I humble myself before
you. Do not ask me to stoop to them again.

MAN: The coach comes nearer. Our horses are saddled. We can only ride
together as free lovers who have left falsehood behind. Are you ready to
meet your Prince's sneers and my lord's triumphant mockery? Will you
take the step that is decisive? I am no longer a servant; you have
released me. I do not obey, and I will not command. I ask all, but I
plead for nothing. Choose for yourself.

LADY (_after a silence_): It shall be--as you resolve.

MAN: Then you are willing to remain?

LADY: I trust myself, since I trust you.

MAN: You will do this--for our love?

LADY: I obey--my lord and master.

MAN: Take back your freedom. The will is enough.

        [_The_ MAID _comes down the stairs, carrying a cloak_.

MAID: My lady's cloak.

MAN (_taking it, and putting it over the_ LADY'S _shoulders_): Come! We
are ready.

LADY: Are we to go now?

MAN: Now.

LADY (_turning to him with a smile_): But tell me--did you mean to
remain? Are you indeed a hero?

MAN: What are they to us?

LADY: So that was the last stratagem! Laughter comes back again. My
friend, give me your hand before the world--our world! We have no more
to fear.

        [_The_ MAN _takes her hand_.

MAID (_falling on her knees_): O, my lady, my lady!

LADY (_turning to her_): So you are left behind. This is good-bye. Take
my trinkets, and remember me kindly.

MAID: My lady, I have understood!

        [_Re-enter the_ NOBLEMAN, _breathless_.

NOBLEMAN: Charles, Charles! The coach is in sight, not half a mile away.
By good fortune I have found a pair of horses for you; they stand
saddled at the door. Mount and ride for your lives. Are you prepared?

MAN (_drawing himself up_): Stand aside, my lord, for my lady!

        [_The_ NOBLEMAN _obeys mechanically. The_ MAN _and the_ LADY,
    _ignoring him, go out hand in hand. The_ NOBLEMAN, _in astonishment,
    turns to the_ MAID.

NOBLEMAN: Am I in my senses? What was that?

MAID (_sobbing_): O, my lady! She has found the way!

NOBLEMAN (_shaking her_): Speak, you hussy! What--was--that?

MAID: They have gone!

NOBLEMAN: Fool! So much I can see!

MAID: They have gone to each other.

NOBLEMAN: To each other! My Charles and that woman! Am I tricked?
(_Calling_) Innkeeper! Innkeeper! Stop those runaways! Stop them, I say!

        [_The_ INNKEEPER _appears in the doorway_.

INNKEEPER: They are gone, my lord.

NOBLEMAN: By which road?

INNKEEPER: My lord, they took to the downs at a gallop. They are over
the brow of the hill by this time.

NOBLEMAN: Did they speak?

INNKEEPER: They said nothing, my lord, but I think they laughed
together.

        [_Exit the_ INNKEEPER.

NOBLEMAN: They laughed--these fools in love! We can laugh too. Ha, ha,
ha! (_Checking himself suddenly._) But the Prince! I must have proof
when he arrives. (_To the_ MAID.) Listen to me, pretty one.

MAID: I am listening.

NOBLEMAN: This tale may not be believed. The Prince may suspect that I
have conveyed her away.

MAID: And so, my lord?

NOBLEMAN: You will tell his Highness what passed between us last night.

MAID: I--tell him?

NOBLEMAN: It shall be made worth your while. Here is my purse, girl. Can
I depend upon you?

MAID (_striking him a blow in the face_): No, my lord! You cannot!

NOBLEMAN: Hell-cat!

        [_The_ MAID _runs out. Re-enter the_ INNKEEPER _with a bill in
    his hand_.

INNKEEPER: My lord, a coach with outriders has just turned the corner.
It comes this way.

NOBLEMAN: What is that in your hand?

INNKEEPER: Your lordship's reckoning.

NOBLEMAN (_taking it, reads_): What! Am I to foot the bill for these
runaways, these vagabonds?

INNKEEPER: My lord, it is the privilege of a man of quality.

        [_The_ NOBLEMAN _tears the reckoning across, and stamps upon it
    in a fury_.


                                THE END



_The Mayflower Press, Plymouth._ William Brendon & Son, Ltd.




_CONTEMPORARY BRITISH DRAMATISTS_
(_Continued from page_ 2)


_THE CONQUERING HERO. By_ Allan Monkhouse. (_3rd Impression._)

"_I am often asked what I call a great play. This is one._"--_James
Agate._


_MIDSUMMER MADNESS. By_ Clifford Bax

"_Mr. Bax has done what the commedia dell' arte did--told a cynical
modern story through old figures._"--"_Times Literary Supplement._"


_WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE DRAMA? By_ H. F. Rubinstein

"_Delightfully amusing . . . exquisite fun._"--"_English Review._"


_THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. By_ Howard Peacey

"_There is colour and eloquence in it . . ._"--"_Times Literary
Supplement._"


_THE DANCE OF LIFE. By_ Hermon Ould

"_Delightful._"--"_English Review._"


_THE FANATICS. By_ Miles Malleson

"_A play that an audience will think about and talk about._"--_Lennox
Robinson._


_THE THREE BARROWS. By_ Charles McEvoy

"_Strong dramatic scenes, would act well._"--_E. A. Baughan._


_FIRST BLOOD. By_ Allan Monkhouse

"_Deals with a savagely embittered industrial dispute, at once more
natural and more subtle than Galsworthy's 'Strife.'_"--_Ivor Brown._


_THE MASQUE OF VENICE. By_ G. D. Gribble

"_Who is this Mr. Gribble who suddenly bursts upon us as a fully
equipped playwright; master of his job and possessed of more wit and
more reading than most living dramatists have, or at any rate
use._"--"_Times Literary Supplement._"


_THE SCENE THAT WAS TO WRITE ITSELF. By_ G. D. Gribble

"_Would repay good acting._"--"_New Statesman._"


_PETER AND PAUL. By_ Harold F. Rubinstein

"_The hand of the born dramatist is very clear._"--"_Times Literary
Supplement._"


_NOCTURNE IN PALERMO. By_ Clifford Bax

"_A delightful miniature._"--"_Daily Telegraph._"


_THE RIGORDANS. By_ Edward Percy

"_Strong, sombre, moving drama . . . a play to read._"--"_Manchester
Guardian._"


_KRISHNA KUMARI. By_ Edward Thompson

"_A play about India and a very fine one._"--"_Nation and Athenum._"



_CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN DRAMATISTS_


_THE VERGE._ _By_ Susan Glaspell. (_2nd Impression._)

"_Extraordinarily interesting, besides being very unusual. Fresh,
curious, and dramatically alive. . . . Here there is revolt against the
platitude, the convention, but the repudiation of life as it is goes far
beyond the social rebellion . . . it is an attempt to capture something
beyond the reaches of our souls._"--"_Manchester Guardian._"

"_Few living dramatists have succeeded so well in amalgamating
psychology with perfect stagecraft._"--"_Westminster Gazette._"


_INHERITORS. By_ Susan Glaspell

"_This is a fine play . . . one would not rank it below 'An Enemy of the
People,' and for my own part I am inclined to think it ranks with 'The
Master Builder.'_"--_James Agate in the "Sunday Times."_

"_There is no mistaking the power and insight of her characterisation
. . . the first act is a little epic of the pioneer days of America,
beautifully written and deeply felt._"--"_Daily Telegraph._"


_BERNICE. By_ Susan Glaspell

"_Remorselessly, every word striking home, this quiet tragedy works to
an end._"--"_The Weekly Westminster._"

"_By very subtle touches Susan Glaspell builds up the character of
Bernice, a woman who died before the play opens._"--_E. A. Baughan in
the "Daily News."_


_MOSES. A Play, a Protest, and a Proposal. By_ Lawrence Langner

"_Entertaining and effective . . . always incisive and usually
profound._"--"_Manchester Guardian._"


_THE SPRING. By_ George Cram Cook

"_Is a work of arresting theme and highly imaginative
workmanship._"--_The late William Archer._

"_A strange and arresting play on the psychic, mixing argument with
emotion in an extraordinary manner._"--_Kenneth MacGowan._



_NEW PLAYS IN PREPARATION_

_THE FIREBRAND. By_ Edwin Justus Mayer
_THE SPORT OF GODS. By_ John Cournos
_FOUR ONE ACT PLAYS._ Gwen John



_OTHER PLAYS PUBLISHED BY ERNEST BENN LTD_


_BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK. By_ George S. Kaufman & Marc Connelly

"_A quaint and rollicking 'nightmare play.'_"--"_Referee._"

"_This amusing satire . . . is the fiercest satire on materialism we
have ever read._"--"_Daily Graphic._"



_OTHER PLAYS PUBLISHED BY ERNEST BENN LTD_


_THE COLONNADE. By_ Stark Young

"_Mr. Stark Young makes his effects with a beautiful simplicity and you
have not to read far to perceive that 'The Colonnade' is a remarkable
play. It comes to significant life in a scene, full of emotion, between
father and son. There is a strong opposition of wills, and the
difference between them repeats the difference that had separated the
father from his wife._"--_Allan Monkhouse in the "Manchester Guardian."_


_THE MACHINE WRECKERS. By_ Ernst Toller. _Translated by_ Ashley Dukes

"_It has power and passion and judgment and pity._"--_St. John Ervine in
the "Observer."_


_SHAKESPEARE. By_ H. F. Rubinstein & Clifford Bax

"_Their Shakespeare is by far the most life-like, the most plausible,
yet presented in drama--far excelling either Mr. Shaw's or Mr. Frank
Harris's._"--"_Weekly Westminster._"


_DOCTOR KNOCK. By_ Jules Romains. _Translated by_ Harley
Granville-Barker

"_Monsieur Romains has caught at the crest the modern tyranny of
medicine . . . it is a shrewd joke, a timely joke, and well
told._"--"_Times._"

"_Mr. Granville Barker's latest gift to the English theatre is an
amazingly perfect version of Jules Romains' clever satire: Dr.
Knock._"--"_Daily Telegraph._"




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Other than the addition of two missing periods and one missing single
quote, variations in spelling and punctuation have been preserved.




[End of The Man with a Load of Mischief, by Ashley Dukes]
