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- Herausgeber: e-artnow
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
This carefully crafted ebook: "Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie" is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents: Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up When Wendy Grew Up Ibsen's Ghost Jane Annie Walker, London The Professor's Love Story The Little Minister: A Play The Wedding Guest Little Mary Quality Street The Admirable Crichton What Every Woman Knows Der Tag (The Tragic Man) Dear Brutus Alice Sit-by-the-Fire A Kiss for Cinderella Shall We Join the Ladies? Half an Hour Seven Women Old Friends Mary Rose The Boy David Pantaloon The Twelve-Pound Look Rosalind The Will The Old Lady Shows Her Medals The New Word Barbara's Wedding A Well-Remembered Voice Sir James Matthew Barrie (1860-1937) was a Scottish novelist and playwright, best remembered today as the creator of Peter Pan. He was born and educated in Scotland but moved to London, where he met the Llewelyn Davies boys, who inspired him to write about a baby boy who has magical adventures in Kensington Gardens, then to write Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up, a "fairy play" about an ageless boy and an ordinary girl named Wendy who have adventures in the fantasy setting of Neverland.
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Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie
Table of Contents
Ibsen’s Ghost
CAST
GEORGE TESMAN (an idiot)
THEA (his wife for the present)
PETER TERENCE (her Grandpapa)
DELIA TERENCE (Peter’s doll)
Scene: The room in George’s house where rubbish is shot.
Note: Peter uses the Gosse’s translation and the other characters the Archers.
Scene as in Hedda Gabler.
IBSEN’S GHOST
(GEORGE sits writing at desk R. TIA is at fireplace L.I. burning letters. She is very mournful, kisses letters, etc.)
GEORGE: Do you know, dear, I think I shall be able to make something of poor Eylbert Lovborg’s notes after all. There is no title, cast list or note in TH. Then I will publish the book as my own, and it may bring me fame. Just think of that now, Hedda!
TIA: I wish you would remember that my name is Tia.
GEORGE: I mean Tia, I married you so soon after Hedda shot herself, that I mix you up still. Tia, how many T’s in ‘tentative’.
TIA (indifferently): Four.
GEORGE: And how many z’s in ‘influenza’?
TIA: What does that matter, you take it all the same.
GEORGE: Does ‘civil’ begin with ‘s’?
TIA: Don’t know, write polite.
GEORGE: I will Hedda, I mean Tia, and is there a K in Christianity.
TIA: There is nothing in Christianity.
GEORGE: Tia, I think I had better leave the spelling to my secretary, where is he now?
TIA: He is upstairs packing his bag.
GEORGE: Think of that now, Hedda. (rises) He is leaving me, and he is the sixth secretary I have engaged during the last month — I wonder why they all desert me thus?
(comes to her)
TIA: Dear simple George, can he not guess.
GEORGE: And, oh! I say Tia what are you doing there?
TIA (wringing her hands): Burning the letters you wrote me before our marriage, George.
GEORGE: There now! and Tia what is inside that parcel you have been making up all the morning?
TIA: The presents you gave me George, and my engagement ring and my wedding ring — Now surely he will understand, though he is only a man of letters.
GEORGE: My careful little wife.
TIA: O how dense he is (rises) George, I, I am going away.
GEORGE: Do dear — you had better lie down for a little.
TIA: I mean — I mean not to come back.
GEORGE: You mean to your Grandpapa’s, Tia! But you know he and Grandmama are coming to us. I say Tia, how glad they will be to see you and me so happy together.
TIA: Happy! George do you love me as much as you loved Hedda Gabler?
GEORGE: Yes, I think so. Neither Hedda, nor you have ever given me a moments uneasiness — Simple souls both.
TIA (aside): This kindness kills me. George I think I shall write you a letter.
GEORGE: Do Tia.
TIA: You must think it strange George that I should write you a letter?
GEORGE: Oh, no Tia. But I say may I show it to my aunt Juliannia?
TIA: After I am gone George.
GEORGE: Yes, yes. Will you write it now, Hedda. I mean Tia.
TIA (in couch R.): Now, ay now. The sooner the better.
GEORGE: Let me bring you your writing case Dear — There I have not spilt the ink — Really I haven’t Tia. (Tia writes in wild haste)
GEORGE: How beautiful you are Hedda — Tia. Do you know Judge Brack told me yesterday that he envied me my pretty little wife. Just think of that.
TIA: An envelope.
GEORGE: Tia, listen to this. I have been so lucky in my wives that I think I must be a good fellow after all.
TIA: I wonder whom your next wife will be.
GEORGE: I wonder Tia, and oh I say —
TIA: A stamp.
GEORGE (gives stamp): How pretty you —
TIA (reads): ‘George Tesman, Esq.’ There now put on your hat George, and take this to the post at once —
GEORGE: Just think of that now — Tia this new proof of your affection for me goes to my heart, and I must tell your grandpapa and grandmama about it. The moment they arrive. How good of them Tia, to offer to come to us for six months.
TIA (aside): I cannot remain here to face simple innocent grandmama. Had I not best tell George all here this instant. George, I have not been a good wife to you.
GEORGE: As good as Hedda Gabler herself, dear — Remember what I told you Judge Brack said.
TIA (wildly): Judge Brack! George, Judge Brack kissed me last night.
GEORGE: Fancy that now Tia. (Exit L.)
TIA (pacing room): How unsuspicious these young men of letters are. I wonder if they are all like that. Oh, but in an hour that letter will be delivered, and then George will know all, he will know why I am going away from him for ever (Gets black bag) It was just like this that I left my last husband Elvested, a black bag in my hand, and on my shoulders this little black jacket, if Jacket it can be called. To steal away from my second husband precisely as I stole away from my first, it feels quite — quite like old times, (is going when Bell rings) Grandpapa and grandmama would that I had gone before they came. They are so old-fashioned that they will think it wrong of me to desert my home.
(Enter Peter L. with rugs etc. )
TIA: Grandpapa! (Both down C. Peter makes strange faces, gestures, etc. ) Are you not well grandpapa?
PETER (whispers): Can’t you follow me? It is so simple that a child could make it out. I was saying Tia, Grandmama and I are so proud that you have at last got a husband to suit you.
TIA: Husband? Ah you mean George — You have been at L’Enfant Prodigue? (Peter signs yes elaborately — ) That means Yes! How much easier it is than talking! But why has dear, simple, homely, humdrum, domesticated Grandmama not come with you (Peter gesticulates) She is cleaning windows? (Peter repeats) Influenza? (Peter repeats) She is standing for the County Council? (Peterrepeats) Kangaroos?
PETER (whispers): You are sure you follow me?
TIA: Yes, but —
PETER: Then I’ll tell you what it means. Your Grandmama went away from L’Enfant Prodigue in the middle of the first act, because she declared she couldn’t hear a word they said.
TIA: But she has not come here?
PETER: No, she went to another play, called The Doll’s House.
A childish piece I should think from the title. She will be here directly, (sees letters at fire). But Tia — what have you been doing here? Burning George’s manuscripts. Ah, a good wife, a good wife.
TIA (aside): Why should I not tell Grandpapa all? I will! Grandpapa, these are George’s letters to me that I am burning, and oh it breaks my heart, for I look upon each of them as a little child, George’s children and mine. There are a hundred and twenty-seven.
PETER: Tia Tesman!
TIA: Soon to be Tesman no longer. Grandpapa I am leaving George.
PETER: Leaving him, what has he done?
TIA: Nothing. It is I who am unworthy of him, Grandpapa.I was at the Leybourne’s dance last night and Judge Brack and I went into the conservatory, and he kissed me —
PETER (shakes and falls on sofa R.): Ghosts, ghosts! Is my40 years’ secret, at last to be discovered? I — I cannot see Tia, that you are to be held responsible for Judge Brack’s misbehaviour.
TIA: I let him do it — I wanted him to do it; and that is not all, for Parson Greig kissed me on Tuesday, and Henrik Borsam on Wednesday and Baron Kleig on Thursday, and I am going mad, mad! mad! (falls on sofa)
PETER: Ghosts! So the bolt falls. For nearly 40 years, have I kept my crime to myself and now it must out, it must out — Tia — I — ah — men don’t do these things.
TIA (starting up): They do, they do, and oh grandpapa — I like it.
PETER: Ghosts.
TIA: And so grandpapa I must leave George. Oh grandpapa, you who have lived a blameless life — Do not, cannot understand how unworthy I am of George. It is idle to tell me to be more careful. It is in my blood. (Peter jumps) and I know — I feel that as I have been in the past so shall I be in the future. I cannot look upon a man without wanting him to kiss me, and he reads my thoughts and does it. Oh Grandpapa, how can men read a woman’s thoughts so well, (aside) so well, that is your cue —
PETER (aside): No, ‘other women’ is my cue. I am using Gosse’s version you know.
TIA: I am using Archer’s. Say something.
PETER: All right. Ghosts.
TIA: Grandpapa, you who are so wise and good, tell me whyI experience this overpowering desire to be kissed? It seethes through my being. It is a wild uncontrollable passion, that I cannot master. Why, oh why am I so different from other women?
PETER: ‘Other women’. Ghosts.
TIA: George wonders why he cannot keep a secretary for more than one day. It is because my kisses frighten them — grandpapa they run from me. (Secretary entersC.) Ha! See! (Tia runs after him, he dodges her round table C. she catches him, he kisses her and Exits L.) Grandpapa, tell me, oh tell me why I did it.
PETER: How — how should I know? (sinks in chair L. )
TIA: You do know. I can see it in your face —
PETER: Ghosts, she sees them in my face — and I thought I had kept them hidden inside — inside (aloud) So be it. Let the bolt fall — Tia I will tell you all, but first, the brandy, quick the brandy. (Tia gives glass of brandy, he drinks, mutters Ghosts) Tia what I am about to tell you I have kept to myself for almost — almost 40 years. Ah do not say I have not suffered, (flinging himself at her) Do not say it.
TIA: You frighten me, Grandpapa — That your cue.
PETER: Ah! revile me Tia if you choose, but do not say I have not suffered, even if you think I have not. Don’t let on, it makes me jump so — Tia, weep no more or if you must weep and wring your hands, because that is your idea of the character, let it be for me, for it is I who have done this; it is I who have made you what you are! Quick more brandy (she brings it, he drinks) Ghosts, (whispers) You don’t think I’m saying Ghosts too often do you?
TIA: No, not at all. (aloud) You have not made me what I am, Grandpapa. It is only a wicked impulse of my own.
PETER: Poor Tia Tesman, and whence comes that impulse? It comes from me. It is hereditary, as all impulses are —
TIA: Speak quickly, grandpapa, speak quickly, (seizes him by shoulders).
PETER: Thickly? Is it quickly or thickly in Archer’s version never mind. The brandy — (drinks) Tia Tesman, nearly 40 years ago I married your grandmother, my confiding little baby wife Delia — and I have never had a moment’s happiness since! That was not her fault, it was mine — mine. Two evenings before the wedding one of her bridesmaids was staying with her and it so happened that the gas suddenly went out (Music) It was relit in a moment but during that time — Tia can you not help me out!
TIA (coldly): Go — on —
PETER: She was pretty — tobacco coloured hair impudent nose, soft chin, pleading eyes, laughing shoulders, rather plump and twenty round the waist — round the waist — I never saw her without a mad longing to take her face in my hands, gather her up, and — in short she was the kind I liked — Until that black night however, I succeeded in stepping back from her, in order to prevent myself stepping nearer — but when the gas went out — when the gas went out. Remember Tia, it must also have been hereditary in my case, otherwise I could not have done it. Tia, I offer no excuse for the impulse was not then so strong (It came from my great aunt on my mother’s side) but that I could have resisted it.
TIA: The gas went out?
PETER: Went out — it must have been hereditary — and then, ha, ha! I kissed her, yes Tia I kissed her — she was the kind I liked (crosses) in another second the gas was lit, and she was at the opposite end of the room, looking at some photographs. Ay, glare at me Tia, glare at me. It is I who have given you this fell disease —
TIA: I see, I see, the scales fall from my eyes. Oh you wicked old man. (faints R.)
PETER: She was the kind I liked — Fainted — Dead! Don’t say you’re dead, Tia. Ha, the brandy, (pours out) say when Tia, say when. Water?
TIA (faintly): Potash.
PETEF.: No, thank you, Tia. I take it neat, neat. (Drinks it off)
TIA (sitting up ): Ghosts.
PETER: Have you got ‘em too, Tia — What change is this that has come over you —
TIA: You notice it? Grandpapa, your confession has made a woman of me. It has turned me into a Hedda. Look! Look! I am no longer Tia Tesman. I am a Hedda Gabler.
PETER: She is a Hedda now. (Bell rings) Ha Grandmama.
TIA: I must away to think — to think.
PETER: About your future Tia. I mean Hedda.
TIA: No, about yours. How will you do it Grandpapa? (she now imitates Hedda)
PETER: Do it?
TIA: You don’t mean that you will go on living — No, put vine leaves in your hair and do it. Oh, why should you have been able thus to destroy me? Hereditary! Why should I suffer for your sins? Grandpapa, I shut my eyes and see a new Era dawning. I tell you, I warn you, that the day is fast approaching when there will be no heredity, a day when old conditions will be played out, and new conditions will take their place — conditions under which there shall be no such things as Grandfathers.
(Exit C. )
PETER (in chair L.): Tia, Tia Tesman, you would not blame me so much if you understood she was the kind I likedI don’t think I can do it, Tia, it will be a more severe punishment to live on, and Delia would not like me to do it. I am glad Delia is coming womanly, homely Delia. I wonder if Delia uses Gosse’s version or Archer’s. (Enter Delia L. She coughs.) Ah, my pet, and how did she like The Doll’s House? Delia my dear wife, I don’t quite care for Tia. I want to go home.
DELIA (glaring at him): Wife! Home! Oh, how I hate the words!
PETER (jumps up and then falls into seat): You too Delia! The Brandy! (she snatches bottle from him) Gosse — I mean Ghosts.
DELIA: How did I like The Doll’s House? It has made a woman of me. Peter Terence — I have come here to call you to account. I am your doll no longer (triumphantly)
PETER: Have we not been happy, Delia?
DELIA: Because we knew no better. Go on Peter Terence, cast my innocence in my teeth — I know what you will say, that you have been faithful to me Yes, you have been faithful and yet you call yourself a man —
PETER: A virtuous woman —
DELIA: Virtuous! Have I ever had a chance of being anything else? I am your wife. We were to be complement and supplement — it was on that understanding you got me, and how have you kept your trust? Peter Terence answer me this. Did you ever take me into low society? Dare you answer yes? You dare not. Of the women who have come to our house during these 40 years of ridiculous happiness, was there one who was not a lady? Peter Terence, there was not. You know the world, you see it in all its colours, and yet did you ever bring home a disreputable man to dinner? Not one — Peter Terence. Did you ever make a remark in my presence that was not fit for a lady’s ear? Never — When I should have been living my own life, were you not, dandling me on your knee, and taking hairpins from my hair to clean your pipes with? I have borne you six children Peter Terence, and did you propose that they should be sent out to nurse, because a true woman cannot be bothered with children? Did you relieve me of the trouble of rearing one of them? Not one — I had to bring them all up myself, they called me, mother — you stood by and let them call me, mother!
PETER: The Brandy —
DELIA: No —
PETER: But my Duck —
DELIA: No —
PETER: I mean my wild duck —
DELIA: You disgracefully, healthy minded old man, for shame —
PETER: Ghosts then — You have no objections to my saying Ghosts? I must say something.
(Tia enters C. and listens)
DELIA: Not to me. Henceforth Peter Terence our paths lie in different directions You go one way and I go the other —
PETER: Delia Terence, Deliar Tremers, Delirium Tremens —
DELIA: And if you are half a man, you will set off upon yours directly.
(Tia rushes down L. and hands him a pistol)
TIA: Do Grandpapa.
PETER (shrinking): Hedda Gabler’s pistol.
TIA: One of them. Grandpapa take it and leave this contemptible world, with scorn upon your countenance and vine leaves in your hair. Oh, it is the one course still open to a brave man. (whispers) Archer’s version says that you here take the pistol —
PETER (sadly): So does Gosse’s.
(takes pistol)
DELIA: Look sharp Peter.
PETER: D’you know — I don’t like London —
TIA: Grandpapa. Do it gracefully —
DELIA: Oh, do it anyhow —
PETER: Patience, my dears. I — I am not used to this sort of thing — It’s — it’s got very warm don’t you think Delia? The — a — summer has come at last — Tia — eh?
TIA: Don’t aim so low down grandpapa (he aims above his head) nor so high up. Be graceful grandpapa — there are several good places.
DELIA: Any place is good enough so long as he can find a way in.
PETER: No Delia — I beg your pardon, but Tia makes a point of my doing it gracefully — with art —
TIA (eagerly ): The heart is a good place, a very good place.
PETER: Hedda’s pistol — Hedda’s.
TIA: The head(a) is a good place too —
DELIA (tapping him on the throat)’. This is a good place.
PETER: Here, Delia, (puts pistol to neck)
TIA: Lower Grandpapa, here, (taps his heart)
DELIA: Or here, (lifts pistol to his forehead)
TIA: Or here, (points pistol at stomach)
PETER: Hadn’t I better lie down first? it would be more graceful, Tia, than to fall afterwards — No! Very well then. I’ll do it when I say three — One — two — I say I have an idea — why shouldn’t you both come with me?
TIA: Why not?
DELIA: Ay, why not?
PETER (handing pistol to Delia): Ladies first.
TIA: No, all together — see here are more pistols (gets pistols from Table, keeps one, gives Delia one) Grandpapa, we all fire when you say three —
(in line down C.)
PETER: One — two — Have you found a good place Delia? Have you vine leaves in your hair, Tia? Very well — One-two — the brandy!
DELIA: No.
PETER: One — Two — I say, where is it we are going to?
TIA: Where?
DELIA: Ah where?
PETER: Let us say to — to Hedda’s — one — two — one, two, three —
(All fire and fall Peter in C.) Enter George L.
GEORGE: Someone been shooting rubbish here, just fancy that.
(sits at table C.)
PETER (sitting up)-. Just fancy that! — it is my cueWell I don’t fancy them — do you?I think that all the Ibsen ladiesShould find a place and go to Hades.
GEORGE (without looking up): Just fancy that. Just think of that.
TIA (sitting up): You, take a Hedda, you’re a toffShe’s like her pistol, she goes offOf Ibsen women, boys bewareThey all have vine leaves in their hair.
GEORGE: Just fancy that, just think of that.
DELIA (sitting up): Wives of the future, then begorraI’m glad that I don’t live tomorrow.I’m flesh and blood — I’ll tell you, bahThey’re nothing but automata.
(The three rise singing)
ALL: We’re nothing but automata.
(They dance like wooden figures)
PETER: I say there’s another verse in Gosse’s version.
GEORGE: Just fancy that, just think of that.
PETER: Let’s go to Toole’s his version says,For it’s a rare — rare good placeYour taste his plays are sure to strikeAnd there you’ll find the kind you like.
(They dance and die as in waxwork)
CURTAIN
Jane Annie
Table of Contents
Dramatis Personae
A Proctor
Sim (Bulldog)
Greg (Bulldog)
Tom (a Press Student)
Jack (a Warrior)
Caddie (a Page)
Miss Sims (a Schoolmistress)
Jane Annie (a Good Girl)
Bab (a Bad Girl)
Milly (an Average Girl)
Rose (an Average Girl)
Meg (an Average Girl)
Maud (an Average Girl)
Schoolgirls, Press Students, and Lancers.
The Scene is obviously laid round the corner from a certain English University Town.
ACT I. First Floor of a Seminary for the Little Things that grow into Women.
ACT II. A Ladies’ Golf Green near the Seminary.
TIME. The Present.
One Night elapses between the Acts.
Act I.
SCENE. — First floor of the Ladies’ Seminary. The GIRLS are exchanging their last confidences for the night.
Enter CADDIE with their candles.
CHORUS OF GIRLS.Goodnight! Goodnight!The hour is late;Though eyes are bright,No longer wait!Though clear the head,Though wit may shine,To bed! To bed!It’s nearly nine!Dining-room clock strikes.
MILLY. Now the last faint tint has faded.
ALL. Goodnight! Goodnight!
MILLY. And the west in gloom is shaded.
ALL. Goodnight! Goodnight!
MILLY. See the moon her vigil keeping.
ALL. Goodnight! Goodnight!
MILLY. Torpor o’er the earth is creeping
ALL. Goodnight! Goodnight!Drawingroom clock strikes.
ALL. Goodnight! Goodnight!A-talking thus,Though eyes are bright,Is not for us.The eve is past,The shadows fall,And so at lastGoodnight to all.
All retire except CADDIE, who is roused from a profound reverieby the misbehaviour of the clock. He makes short work of it. Exit
CADDIE. There is a knock at the door, and the GIRLS reappear.
MEG. It was the front door!
MILLY. Who can be calling at such a fearsomely late hour asnine o’clock?
ROSE. Why doesn’t some one peep down the stairs.
BAB runs downstairs.
MAUD. That bold Bab has gone. Miss Sims will catch her.
MILLY. Oh! I can see. (Looks over staircase.)
ALL. Well?
MILLY. A man!
ROSE. At last!
MILLY. Bald!
ROSE. The wretch!
MILLY. He has two other men with him.
MEG. Two! Girls, let us go and do our hair this instant.
MILLY. They are shewn into Miss Sims’s private room. Ah!
MAUD. What?
MILLY. The door is shut.
ROSE. What a shame!
MEG. What is Bab doing all this time?
MILLY. She has her ear at the keyhole.
MAUD. Dear girl!
MILLY. She shakes her fist at the keyhole.
ALL. Why?
MILLY. I don’t know.
BAB comes upstairs.
ROSE. Bab, why did you shake your fist at the keyhole?
BAB. Because it is stuffed with paper.
ALL. Oh!
BAB. Yes, stuffed. How mean of Miss Sims. She might surelyhave trusted to our honour not to look.
MILLY. Thank goodness, the holidays begin the day after tomorrow.
BAB. But a great deal may happen before tomorrow. Girls,can you keep a secret — a secret that will freeze yourblood and curl you up and make you die of envy?
ALL. Yes, yes!
BAB. That little sneak Jane Annie is not here?
MILLY. She has gone upstairs to bed.
BAB. You are sure?
ROSE. I’ll make sure. (Runs upstairs and looks throughkeyhole.) It’s all right, girls! I can see her curlingher eyelashes with a hairpin.
GIRLS surround BAB.
BAB. Then, girls, what do you value most in the world?
MILLY. My curls.
MEG. My complexion.
ROSE. My diamond ring.
MAUD. My cousin Dick.
BAB. Well, Meg would be delighted her complexion fair todoff,And Milly take her scissors and cut her tresses off,And Rose with a careless “Take it” give up her diamondquick,And Maud would soon surrender her rights in CousinDick,To be me tonight!
MILLY. What is his name?
BAB. Jack.
MAUD. A lovely name! What are you and Jack to do?
JANE ANNIE steals downstairs.
BAB. This very night we have —
ALL. You have — ?
BAB. Arranged to el —
ALL. To el — (seeing JANE ANNIE.) Oh!
JANE ANNIE comes forward. All turn their backs on her.
JANE A. What have you arranged to do tonight, Bab? What is it,Maud? tell me, Milly.
ROSE. You used to be the worst girl in the school, JaneAnnie, and I believe you have become a sneak to win thegood-conduct prize.
MILLY. When it is presented to her tomorrow, I shall hiss.
JANE A. What is your secret, Bab?
BAB. Oh, I should like to pinch you!
JANE A. Just because I am a good girl.
SONG. — JANE ANNIE.I’m not a sneak for praise or pelf,But when they’re acting badly,I want to make them like myself,And so I tell tales gladly.Just because I am a good girl.
ALL. She gives her reasons thus,But it’s rather hard on us,To suffer just because she is a good girl.
JANE ANNIE. I told Miss Sims they read in bed,Although with guile they cloaked it,And when her cane chair vanished,I told her they had smoked it,And all because I am a good girl.
ALL. And all because she is a good girl.
JANE ANNIE. Although misunderstood, I’m meek —Bab, pinch me, pinch me well!
(BAB pinches her.)
Thanks! Next I offer you my cheek.
(BAB slaps her.)
Now, dear, I’ll go and tell.And just because I am a good girl.
ALL. She gives her reasons thus,But it’s rather hard on us,To suffer just because she is a good girl.
JANE A. If I liked I could make Bab tell me her secret. Beware!I have a power by which, if I chose to use it, I canmake any one do anything I like.
MILLY (scoffing). Then why don’t you use it?
JANE A. Because I am a good girl.
Exit JANE ANNIE downstairs.
ROSE. Do you think she has such a power?
MILLY. Of course not.
MEG. Still, Jane Annie could not tell a lie.
MILLY. You mistake. It was George Washington who could nottell a lie.
MEG. So it was. How stupid of me.
MAUD. Quick, Bab, your secret?
ALL. Yes — the secret!
BAB. Girls, this is my secret. Meg, watch! Jack is asoldier, and he loves me.
ALL. Oh!
BAB. But better still — I have two lovers.
MILLY. Do they hate each other?
BAB. Yes.
MILLY. Scrumptious!
BAB. And, oh girls! I have promised to elope with Jack tonight.
ALL. Oh! (BAB sighs.)
ROSE. But why do you sigh?
BAB. Ah, there is Tom, dear Tom! What is poor Tom to do?
ROSE. Then it is Tom you love?
BAB. Oh, I do not know which I love. Tom is so poor, andJack is ready to take me now. Besides, I have promised.
MAUD. Then Jack has money?
BAB. He says he has a little.
MILLY. Only a little? Then what are you to live on?
BAB. Oh, we have worked that out very carefully. First ofall he is to sell out. Then he has a friend who wrote anovel in six weeks and got £1,000 for it. Well, Jackhas much more ability than his friend, so he is toadopt novel writing as a profession, and, as £1,000 insix weeks comes to £8,666 13s. 14d. a year, we shall bequite comfortable.
MILLY. I see you have left nothing to chance.
BAB. No.
ROSE. Where are you and Jack to meet?
BAB. All day I have been expecting a note to say if I am tomeet him in the garden or on the tow path.
MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE come up the stairs listening.
MEG. H’st!
BAB (softly). Girls, we are watched! I must deceive theeavesdroppers. (Aloud.) Girls, this is my secret aboutwhich you have asked me.
ALL. Ahem! Ahem!
SONG. — BAB.Bright-eyed Bab I used to be,Now these eyes are lead;Languor has come over me,Hangs my little head.Now my figure — once like this —Droops like autumn berry;Pity me, my secret is,Me is sleepy very!
ENSEMBLE.
MISS SIMS and GIRLS. JANE ANNIE.See her little drowsy head, Does her naughty little headDroops like autumn berry; Droop like autumn berry?Says she wants to go to bed, Says she wants to go to bed,She is sleepy, very! But I add a query?
BAB. Simple Bab is charged with art,Watched by cruel parties;Palpitates her ‘ittle heart,‘Is where ‘ittle heart is!Something Bab has planned to do,Something will not keep;Bab’s a drowsy girlie whoHas planned to — go to sleep.
ENSEMBLE.
MISS SIMS and GIRLS. JANE ANNIE.Such a guileless little head Though she be a drowsy head,Secret could not keep; That is rather steep;Tuck her in her cosy bed, Tho’ we tucked her up in bed,And she’ll go to sleep. Would she go to sleep?
Exeunt GIRLS slowly to refrain of “Goodnight, Goodnight!”
MISS S. (to JANE ANNIE). This explanation of Bab’s seems quitesatisfactory.
JANE A. Hum!
MISS S. Bab, to bed.
BAB. Can’t I stay up for a little, Miss Sims, to entertainyour guests?
MISS S. Insolence! I shall see you to your room.
BAB. I can hear them coming upstairs.
JANE A. Do tell me who they are. I am not curious. I only wantto know.
MISS S. They are the Proctor and his Bulldogs.
Exeunt MISS SIMS, BAB, and JANE ANNIE.
Enter PROCTOR and BULLDOGS.
RECITATIVE. — PROCTOR.There was a time when we were not,The name that this dark period gotWas Chaos.It lay as ‘neath a ban,Merely containing animals, vegetables, minerals,Woman and the like, and man.Said Nature, “I’ve no Proctor,”This strange omission shocked her.Too long she felt she’d waited;She now enlarged her plan.We Proctors were created,And then the world began.
SONG. — PROCTOR.I’ll tell to you what ‘tis we do,We stalk the undergrad.When he perceives our velvet sleeves,He runs away like mad.Then follow we by deputy,These men I now describe;My bulldogs sound pull him to ground,They never take a bribe.In vain he tries to dodge their eyes,Of all his haunts they’ve knowledge;And soon I make our quarry quakeBy crying, “Name and college!”
ALL. Name and college! Name and college!
PROCTOR. Caged lions may forget they’re tame,The wife forget her baby’s name,The trampled worm forget to turn,The Scot to think of Bannockburn,One poet in a score forgetThe laureateship is open yet,But none who of its gist have knowledgeCan e’er forget my “Name and college.”In after years I fill with fearsAll who’ve been undergrads;The Cabinet, the Laureate,Still run from me like lads.To Parliament I one time wentThe front bench to enlighten,I thought I’d try to prove that ICould still the members frighten.So up I rose, and struck the pose,And shouted, “Name and college!”Oh, run did they from me that day,When I cried “Name and college!”
ALL. Name and college! Name and college!
PROCTOR. Comedians may forget their part,Librettists that it rhymes with heart;Composers may themselves forgetWhen ragged rhymes they’re asked to set;The Savoy opera singer e’enForget that on his head he’s been;But none who of its gist have knowledge,Can e’er forget my “Name and college.”
[Re-enter MISS SIMS.] JANE ANNIE listens from balcony.
MISS S. Dear friend, you have not yet told me the reason forthis visit, and I cannot hope that you have calledmerely because of our old friendship.
PROCTOR. Our more than friendship.
They sigh. BULLDOGS sigh, and PROCTOR glares at them.
GREG (rebelliously). We have our feelings.
PROCTOR. But I object to your having feelings.
SIM (signing to GREG to control himself). Then we haven’t.
PROCTOR. Are they still following me?
GREG and SIM (going to window). They are gone!
PROCTOR. Ha!
MISS S. What is it, dear friend?
PROCTOR. It is the penalty of greatness. You have heard that aChair of New Journalism has been established at theUniversity. There has been no peace for me since. ThePress Students follow me, interview me, describe me.You see, honours can now be got in this department, andthey are all anxious to take the first “first class” injournalism.
GREG. Besides, they feel that if they don’t hurry up, somelady student will take it before them.
MISS S. It is a way that lady students have.
PROCTOR. But it was duty brought me here. I have privateinformation that an undergraduate named Findlater —popularly known as Tom, is carrying on a — a — a —
GREG. A flirtation.
PROCTOR. A — a flirtation — (He is reluctant to take the wordfrom GREG, but can think of no other. GREG istriumphant.) — with a certain — certain — one ofthese — ah! what do you call those little things thatgrow into women?
GREG. A girl.
PROCTOR (annoyed). A — a — girl — in this seminary.
MISS S. Impossible! Could it be Bab?
GREG. Bab was the name.
PROCTOR glares at GREG, with whom SIM expostulates in dumb show.
JANE A. (aside). Tom! Tom! But I am sure the naughty word Iheard her say was Jack! (Exit JANE ANNIE.)
PROCTOR. Tom is coming to serenade her from this hall window.Now I have come here to watch, and if he is guilty, tohave him sent down. Ha! ha! conceive his discomfiturewhen he climbs up to this window and is met — not byhis sweetheart — but my cry of —
GREG. Name and college.
SIM (quaking). I don’t know what is to become of him! (To
GREG.) Don’t be so dashed independent!
PROCTOR (fiercely). Watch at the windows!
BULLDOGS go to windows.
MISS S. Dear friend, you must be mistaken.
PROCTOR. Mistaken? I am a Proctor. Besides, if you are soconfident, you cannot complain of my putting the matterto the proof, and I propose watching here. Where can Ihide?
MISS S. (pointing to clock). Do you think you could getinto this?
PROCTOR. The clock! Why not? I can just do it.
MISS S. Good. And I shall watch downstairs, for I know that myschool can triumphantly stand the test.
DUET. — MISS SIMS and PROCTOR.
MISS SIMS. Strictly tended plants are mine,Breakfast early, bed at nine —
PROCTOR. Plants that need some watching.
MISS SIMS. Their regard for beauty slight is,Mental charm their chief delight is —
PROCTOR. Mischief ever hatching.
MISS SIMS. Flirt’s a word at which they frown,Man they know is but a noun —
PROCTOR. A noun they can’t decline.
MISS SIMS. Eyes they never use amiss,When they take the air like this,In a maiden line. (Business.)
PROCTOR. Yet I take this informationWith some mental reservation,And I think it most imprudent,Thus to fire the callow student,Or the young divine.
MISS SIMS. Helpful books they read — not Gyp,But the courting scenes they skip —
PROCTOR. Or at least they say so.
MISS SIMS. If the heroine who charmsSinks into her lover’s arms —
PROCTOR. They hope to be some day so.
MISS SIMS. No, their comment prim and terse is,Namely “What a hard plight hers is!”
PROCTOR. Oh, this is quite too fine!
MISS SIMS. And mankind with scorn they view,As they walk out two and two,In a maiden line. (Business.)
ENSEMBLE.
{ MISS SIMS. Yet he takes my wise instructions{ With considerable deductions;{ For such sights are bad, I know{ For the budding medico,{ Or the young divine.
{ PROCTOR. Yet I take Miss Sims’ instructions{ With considerable deductions;{ For such sights are bad, I know{ For the budding medico,{ Or the young divine.
GREG. Thank you so much. What is that called?
MISS S. It is a little thing of my own.
GREG. How delightful!
MISS S. I am so glad you like it.
GREG. You sing with so much expression.
MISS S. Do you really think so?
GREG. Won’t you favour us with another?
MISS S. That is the only one I know.
GREG. How very charming! (PROCTOR orders him back to window.)
PROCTOR. Ah me! Neither of us has forgotten the days when wewere lovers. What a pity we quarrelled!
MISS S. (questioningly). I suppose we have quite outgrown thataffection?
PROCTOR. Oh, quite. (BULLDOGS at the window make signs as ifthey saw someone. Soft flute is heard outside.) Ah! hecomes! It is Tom! (PROCTOR gets into the clock, MISSSIMS assisting him. PROCTOR looking out.) How’s that?
MISS S. Wonderful! If the face had hands you could pass for theclock any day. And here they are. (Puts her spectacleson PROCTOR.) There! and now I shall watch downstairs.
PROCTOR. Hi! a moment. What have you set me at?
MISS S. Ten past nine. (Exit.)
PROCTOR. Now the minute hand is in my left eye and I can seenothing. I wish she had put me on half an hour.
GREG (coming down). I beg to inform you, sir — he’s gone!Sim, where can the Proctor have vanished to?
SIM (coming down). I am glad he isn’t here. What is to bedone? We didn’t see what the Proctor expected us tosee.
GREG. Is that our fault?
SIM. Hush! Of course it is, Greg. You will say we saw theundergraduate, eh, Greg?
PROCTOR (aside). What?
GREG. But we didn’t. It was a soldier we saw.
PROCTOR (aside). Eh?
SIM. Oh, what is to be done?
GREG. Tell him the truth.
SIM. Oh, Greg, don’t be so independent! Think of the timewhen you were a little child on your mother’s knee.
(GREG is much affected.)
DUET. — SIM and GREG.
SIM. When a bulldog I became,Independence was my game,But since my course I’m steeringBy a rule that is more wise,For I hear with other’s hearing,And I see with other’s eyes.
GREG (derisively). Tooral, looral-ly!
SIM. That’s a risky think to say.
GREG. It’s my platform, I reply.
SIM. Platforms, Greg, are cheap to-day.
GREG. Which nobody can deny.Man’s a man for a’ that, Sim.
SIM. For a what? say I,
GREG. For a that.
SIM. A that? what’s that?
GREG (after reflecting). Tooral, looral-ly!
BOTH. Up with caps and freedom hail!Here’s the new election cry;Man’s a man if born a male,Tooral, looral, looral-ly!
GREG. Proc’s are spry, but I see through them!I’m the man that will undo them!With a wit like razors’ edges,Twit them in the ‘Varsitee;This the thin edge of the wedge is,Spell them with a little p.
SIM (derisively). Tooral, looral-ly!
GREG. Culture’s fudge — see how I flout it,
SIM. Culture doesn’t pay, that’s why;
GREG. We reformers do without it,
SIM. Which nobody can deny.
GREG. Mad you are, my friend, go to!
SIM. Go to where? say I,
GREG. The missing word I leave to you.
SIM (after reflecting). Tooral, looral-ly!
BOTH. Up with caps and freedom hail!Here’s the new election cry;Man’s a man if born a male,Tooral, looral, looral-ly!
DANCE.
Boots are placed outside the doors at this point. The BULLDOGSlook scared, and exeunt downstairs.
Enter CADDIE. He collects boots in a laundress’s basket. Theboots he loves are not among them. He is distressed. JANE ANNIE’sdoor opens and she puts out her boots. He is elated and goes forthem. While he is getting them BAB’s arm appears outside herdoor, groping for her boots. As she doesn’t find then she comesout and looks for them. She sees basket, glides to it unseen byCADDIE, picks out her boots and exit with them. CADDIE returnswith JANE ANNIE’s boots, fondling them. He sits down on basketand kisses them. Then he rises and tries to drop them among theothers. This strikes him as sacrilege. He shakes his head, thenties the laces of JANE ANNIE’s boots together, slings them overhis head, and exit, carrying basket.
PROCTOR. What is he up to? If I had only being going, I shouldbe at the half-hour by this time, and then I could seewith the left eye. Ten past nine! I little thought thatthe time would come when the grand ambition of my lifewould be to be nine-thirty. What is he doing upstairs?Hallo! a girl, and after some mischief. I wonder if Idare ask her to put me on twenty minutes. I feel veryqueer, as if I was turning into a real clock. I hope Isha’n’t strike.
ROSE and MILLY come softly out of their rooms.
MILLY. I have been thinking so much of what Bab told us that Ican’t go to bed.
ROSE. Nor I — Oh, Milly!
MILLY. What time is it, Rose?
ROSE (holding candle to clock). Half-past nine.
PROCTOR (aside). I wish it was!
ROSE (to MILLY). What?
MILLY. I didn’t speak.Flute heard outside.
ROSE. Listen!
MILLY. Oh, Rose! I am all of a tremble; turn up the gas.
BAB enters. Flute playing continues.
ROSE. It is he — Jack!
BAB (trembling). No, that is Tom!
MILLY. The other one!
BAB. Milly, he must have heard that I am to elope with Jackand doubtless he has come here to shoot me.
MILLY. How romantic!
ROSE. How delightful!
PROCTOR. How out of tune!
MILLY. Perhaps he has only come to ask you to give him backhis presents.
ROSE. How horrid of him to bother you when you don’t care forhim.
BAB. I never said I didn’t care for him.
MILLY. Oh!
ROSE. I hear him climbing up the ivy.
MILLY. He is coming to the window.
BAB. If he and Jack meet they will fight. (To GIRLS.) Leaveus.
ROSE and MILLY exeunt. BAB hides. TOM enters from the window. Heis very sad.
BALLAD. — TOM.It was the time of thistledown,The corn we wandered through;She plucked the lover’s thistledown,As maids are wont to do.She blew upon the thistledown,“He loves, he loves me not!”And from the loyal thistledown,“He loves” the answer got.She did not ask the thistledownIf her own love were true;No need to ask the thistledown,She thought — as maidens do.But had she asked the thistledown,This answer she’d have got,“Your false breath stains the thistledown,He loves, but you love not.”
BAB (coming down). Tom! (They embrace.)
TOM. Then you do love me?
BAB (kissing him). Oh no, this is only saying goodbye.
TOM. You fling me over?
BAB. Jack insists on it.
TOM. Have you forgotten that day on the river, when —
BAB. When you kissed my hand? Oh, Tom, but I have been onthe river since then with Jack, and he —
TOM. Kissed your hand also?
BAB. No, he did not kiss my — hand. (TOM takes somethingwrapped in paper from his pocket.) What is that?
TOM. The glove you gave me. (Gives it to her.) Give it toJack. (Hands her something else.)
BAB. And what is this?
TOM. A hairpin. Give it to Jack. Goodbye!
BAB. Ah, Tom, you will soon forget me.
TOM. I am a man who loves but once, and then for aye.
BAB. You will be heartbroken about me all your life?
TOM. Till the grave close on me.
BAB. Dear Tom, you make me so happy. Now, kiss mepassionately for the last time. You must see that it isnot my fault. (He is about to kiss her, then sadly letsher go.)
DUET. — TOM and BAB.
TOM. O eyes that spoke to me of truth,Farewell, deceptive mirror!
BAB. Thus you describe them, yet forsooth,You look into the mirror!
TOM. Sweet mouth that pouted for my kiss,Farewell, sweet lying mouth!
BAB. The words you’re using are amiss,Yet sweet you call my mouth!
TOM. O heart that throbbed a tale untrue,Farewell, you falsely beat!
BAB. Although it may not beat for you,The words you say are sweet.
TOM. False one, farewell, I harm you not;To him depart, and scathless;Be mine to bear my dreary lot,Struck down by woman faithless.For you, a jilt, my heart has bled,My cup with grief you fill.Ah, tell me, empty little head,Why ‘tis I love you still?
BAB. He loves me still, he loves me true,He worships at my feet.My heart may never beat for you,And yet your words are sweet.
ENSEMBLE.
TOM. BAB.‘Tis so; yet joy be thine, Ah, how can joy be mine,Though hopeless future mine, If hopeless fate is thine?Farewell! Farewell!
BAB (aside). Ah! am I sure that it is Jack whom I lovebest? And yet, my promise!
JANE ANNIE steals downstairs.
BAB. Fly, Tom! It is Jane Annie, the sneak!
TOM hurries to window where JANE ANNIE meets him. The PROCTORcomes stealthily out of clock.
PROCTOR. Name and college!
TOM jumps through the window , PROCTOR seizes JANE ANNIE. BABlistens unseen.
JANE A. Unhand me! I am Jane Annie, the model girl od theschool.
PROCTOR. You are Bab, the flirting-girl!
JANE A. You are mistaken, I —
PROCTOR. Mistaken! — I! Have I not told you that I am aProctor?
JANE A. It was Bab who was flirting, and I came to warn you.
PROCTOR. Yes, it was Bab, and you are Bab. (Seeing BAB.) Girl,what is the name of this chit?
BAB. That is Bab, sir, and my name is Jane Annie.
JANE A. Oh!
PROCTOR. Exactly! She has assumed your name.
BAB. Oh, Bab, how could you!
PROCTOR. I caught her in the act of eloping with anundergraduate through this window.
BAB. Naughty!
JANE A. You wicked little wretch! Sir, I am —
PROCTOR. You are about to be shut up in your bedroom for thenight. Which is her room, Jane Annie?
JANE A. You —
BAB. In the attic there.
PROCTOR. Come!
PROCTOR drags JANE ANNIE upstairs, and pushes her into her room.
BAB. I hope poor Tom didn’t hurt himself, though I believehe went away blaming me. Men are so unreasonable!
PROCTOR (coming down). Well, Jane Annie, why don’t you go tobed?A letter is thrown through the window.
PROCTOR. A letter! and through the window!
BAB (aside). Oh, it is from Jack! We are ruined!
PROCTOR. It has no address. For whom can it be meant?
BAB. Oh, give it to me, sir?
PROCTOR. To you, child? Never! It is my duty to open it myself.(Opens and reads.) “Ten past nine.” Ten past nine! Iam waiting for you in the garden.” Ha! what plot isthis that I have unearthed? Who is waiting in thegarden, and for whom?
BAB (aside). Oh, what shall I do? Ha! Have I not heard thatMiss Sims and he were sweethearts? (To PROCTOR.) Canyou not see?
PROCTOR. No, I can’t; and if I can’t, it’s perfectly certainthat no one else can.
BAB. I know whom the letter is from.
PROCTOR. From whom, child?
BAB. It is from Miss Sims.
PROCTOR. From Dinah?
BAB. Precisely.
PROCTOR. And for whom is she waiting?
BAB. Why, for you, of course. Oh, sir, have pity upon thispoor lady’s heart.
PROCTOR. Ha! “Ten past nine!” She means me! Of course it isaddressed to me. “Ten past nine, I am waiting for youin the garden.” Excuse me, child! (Exit.)
BAB. Oh, Jack is outside, and I do trust they will not meet.It was my only chance. Now I must put on my hat andcoat and slip out to join him.
Exit into bedroom. JANE ANNIE comes downstairs.
JANE A. That little wretch Bab will find that ia m not soeasily foiled. Let me see, I need darkness, because Iam such a good girl. (Turns down the lights.) Oh! whois this?
Enter JACK in a cloak.
JACK. Bab, come! (Sees JANE ANNIE and runs forward.)
JANE A. I am not Bab!
JACK. Oh, Lord! the wrong one. (Takes to his heels, droppingthe cloak in his haste.)
JANE A. What a superior young man! His cloak! (Puts it on.) Inthis light she might mistake me for him! (Swaggersabout in military fashion.) Oh, I will lay such abeautiful trap for her! (Retires to back of stage, andconceals herself by the curtain.)
Enter BAB, dressed for travelling, and with several packages.
BAB. Farewell, dear old school — the nicest school in theworld to get away from! If I were only sure that I amnot making a mistake! They say that there was a girlwho eloped from here once, and that she was unhappy,and that her spirit still haunts these rooms. Tom, Tom!shall I take this final step which is to divide us? Oh!what is that?
VOICES IN THE AIR.Little maiden, pause and ponder,Life is cruel, life is dreary.Little feet, why should you wanderOn to paths so rough and weary?Ere you snap the final link,Little maiden, pause and think!
BAB. Oh, I am so frightened. What shall I do?
JANE ANNIE comes forward, enveloped in JACK’s cloak.
JANE A. Come!
BAB. Jack, I cannot!
JANE A. Quick!
BAB. Oh, Jack, be good to me! Do be careful of this packet.It is awfully, awfully important. It is my curlingtongs. (Gives packet.) The carriage is awaiting us, ofcourse. That contains your letters Jack, and these aresome little things — and take this bag. And now,darling, carry me down, for I am going to faint!She falls into JANE ANNIE’s arms, who lets the things fall,seizes her and screams. Ringing of bells, and general alarm.
PRESS STUDENTS come rushing upstairs. MISS SIMS enters, allstare at JANE ANNIE holding BAB, who seems to have fainted fromfright.
FINALE.
PRESS STUDENTS. Madam, do no think us rude inOn your privacy intrudin’;We are Students Journalistic,Keen on copy, plain or mystic,Commonplace or transcendental,Psychic, physical, or mental,News we’ll have, and through you, madam,For we’ll interview you, madam.That’s so flat, nought could be flatter,Tell us quickly, what’s the matter?What’s the matter? What’s the matter?
GIRLS run out of their rooms in various stages of deshabille.
GIRLS. Madam, when we heard this screaming,Scarcely sure if we were dreaming,Curiosity controlled us,And we came as you behold us,Trim or ruffled, tossed or dapper,Clad in dressing gown or wrapper,We are kneeling to you, madam,News to get, and through you, madam.Think not this is idle chatter,But inform us what’s the matter?What’s the matter? What’s the matter?
ENSEMBLE.
PRESS STUDENTS. GIRLS.News we’ll have, and We are kneeling to you,through you, madam, etc. madam, etc.
MISS SIMS. Jane Annie, what is this?
Bab, what were you doing in her arms?
BAB. Miss Sims, forgive me! I thought she was a gentleman.
MISS SIMS. Oh, infamous! To your rooms, all, this instant!
Exeunt MISS SIMS, BAB, JANE ANNIE, and GIRLS.
PRESS STUDENTS (taking notes eagerly).School aristocratic,The scene most dramatic,Plot unsystematic,And very erratic,Jane Annie ecstatic,Her victory emphatic,She won it by stealingDown from the attic.
Enter PROCTOR furiously.
PRESS STUDENTS. We’re glad to interview you,To get a column through you,And note what you may say.See now how we will do him,While we seem to interview him,In our frank, new-fashioned way.Are Proctors men of learning?Do you spend more than you’re earning?And how much do you owe?Of women do you think much?On occasion do you drink much?
PROCTOR. Emphatically, no!
PRESS STUDENTS (writing). Proctors have no acumen,And no respect for women.
PROCTOR. Yes, yes! I meant to say!
PRESS STUDENTS (writing). In debt and boasts about it.Love’s grog — can’t do without it.Must have it night and day.
PROCTOR. My words you’re misconstruing,That is not interviewing.
PRESS STUDENTS. Yes, this is interviewing,In the frank, new-fashioned way.
PROCTOR. If you’ll suppress this fable,I’ll tell you, if I’m able,A recent incident.(Aside). Diverting their attention,I’ll draw from my inventionSome singular event.
SOLO. — PROCTOR.There was once a man in a seaside town,And his name it was — what was it?I know it wasn’t Smith, and I’m sure it wasn’t Brown,But it was — oh, Lor’, what was it?I very much want to tell you all,You’d love to know about it;But just this point I can’t recall,And as it’s immaterial,We’d best go on without it.A widow lived in the same hotel,Her name it was — you know it!He stole to her and whispered — well,He whispered, well — Oh, blow it!I very much want to tell you all,You’d love to know about it;But just this point I can’t recall,And as it’s immaterial,I’d best go on without it.But when the lady heard this speech,Down to the pier she flew then,Threw up her arms, and with a screech,She — she — Oh, dear! what did she do then?I very much want to tell you all,You’d love to know about it;But just this point I don’t recall,And as it’s most material,I can’t go on without it.
Enter SIM and GREG.
SIM. At last we’ve got him, sir,
PROCTOR (not heeding). Away!
SIM. Him that dangled after her!
PROCTOR. Hurray!
(addressing PRESS STUDENTS). To catch an undergraduate I came.
SIM and GREG (perplexed). Of this there’s question none,He is an undergraduate,In all respects but one.That one to mention we forgot,It’s odd to me and mate,It’s this, that somehow he is notAn undergraduate!
JACK steps forward, CADDIE holding him.
ALL. Why, evidently he is notAn undergraduate!
MILLY (from balcony). Oh, sir, take careOf one so fairLet his complexionPlead with you for him!
JACK. An officer I,Strolling by,Smoking a Henry Clay,These men I met,They me besetIn a most unseemly way.Of girls they spoke,Which spoilt my smoke,For the sex I do not care about.I’ve not address’tThem e’en in jestSince ‘85 — or there about.They dragged me here,By brute force sheer,But this doth chiefly jar.Your page, I find,We left behindSmoking my big cigar.And therefore IYour school defy,Oh, I do not stand in awe of you;For spoilt have theyMy Henry Clay,And I mean to have the law of you.
Exit JACK.
Re-enter GIRLS.
PROCTOR. No I am trepanned and done brown.
PRESS STUDENTS. We hear you, and we’ve got it down.
Enter MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE.
MISS SIMS (to JANE ANNIE). We owe all too you, it appears!So what can I do?
GIRLS. Box her ears!
JANE ANNIE. To be good I try hard,
GIRLS. Ain’t she meek?
JANE ANNIE. And I ask no reward,
GIRLS. Oh, the sneak!
JANE ANNIE. Yet if I should takeSomething nice,They may learn to forsakeWays of vice.
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Forsake!”“Ways of vice!”
JANE ANNIE. Now the good-conduct prize,
GIRLS. Oh, how mean!
JANE ANNIE. Seems good to my eyes,
GIRLS. Which are green!
JANE ANNIE. So if you agreeThat I’m right,Why not give it meWell — tonight?
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Agree”“To tonight.”
MISS SIMS. Dear pupils, see, to my bosom I fold her,The prize shall be hers ere she’s five minutes older.
Exeunt MISS SIMS, PROCTOR, BULLDOGS, and CADDIE.
JANE ANNIE. The girl who’s good, demure, correct,Cannot preserve her self-respect,And mine I would regain.So having got the prize tonight,Tomorrow I, with all my might,Will be an imp again!Girls, I am naughty from this hour,And six long months of wickedness,By virtue of my magic power,Into one day I will compress!
ALL. Jane Annie’s naughty from this hour,But oh! what is this magic power?
CADDIE sends PRESS STUDENTS away.
SONG. — JANE ANNIE.When I was a little piccaninny,Only about so high,I’d a baby’s bib and a baby’s pinnyAnd a queer little gimlet eye.They couldn’t tell why that tiny eyeWould make them writhe and twist,They found it so, but how could they knowThat the babe was a hypnotist?
ALL. Now think of that! this tiny bratWas a bit of a hypnotist!
JANE ANNIE. And as I grew my power grew too,For we were one, you see,And what I willed the folk would doAt a wave or a glance from me.I could “suggest” what pleased me best,And still can, when I list,And Madam Card will find it hardTo beat this hypnotist!
ALL. Oh, think of it! This little chitIs a mighty mesmerist!
DANCE.
Enter MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, PRESS STUDENTS, and CADDIE inprocession. PAGE bearing prize. GIRLS become demure.
MISS SIMS. To Jane Annie this prize I present,And in it I’ve writ this inscription —“Awarded a hundred per cent.For goodness of every description.”(Presents prize.)
MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, and PAGE.Hail, oh hail to the modest maiden!Hail, oh hail to the downcast eyes!Now with all our plaudits laden,See, she takes the well-earned prize.Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
GIRLS. Hail, oh hail to the scheming maiden,Hail, oh hail to the roguish eye!Now she stands with honours laden,They will know her by-and-bye.Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
ENSEMBLE.
MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, etc.Hail, oh hail to her we honour!Hail, oh hail to the blushing cheek!Place the laurel wreath upon her,See her crowned, and good, and meek!Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
GIRLS.Hail, oh hail to her they honour!Hail to her unblushing cheek!Place the laurel wreath upon her,See her trying to look meek.Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
CURTAIN.
