0,49 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: DigiCat
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three Acts," Arthur Wing Pinero intricately weaves together themes of societal expectations, morality, and the complexity of human relationships through sharp dialogue and clever characterizations. Set against the backdrop of late Victorian England, the play scrutinizes the constraints of social propriety and the occasional absurdity that accompanies romantic entanglements. Pinero's distinctive comedic style, laden with wit and irony, invites audiences to both laugh and reflect upon the moral quandaries faced by his characters, showcasing his adeptness in balancing humor with deeper philosophical inquiries. Arthur Wing Pinero, a prominent figure in the realm of British theatre, was not only a playwright but also a leading actor and director of his time. His insights into contemporary societal issues stemmed from personal experiences within the theatre world, allowing him to craft stories that resonated with the zeitgeist of his era. Pinero's career spanned several genres, but he excelled in the comedy of manners, where he deftly explored the intricacies of social interactions and class distinctions. For readers and theatre enthusiasts alike, "The Benefit of the Doubt" stands as an essential exploration of human behavior cloaked in the guise of comedy. Pinero's insightful examination of love and deception makes this play a vital addition to any literary collection, ensuring it remains relevant for modern audiences seeking both entertainment and thought-provoking themes.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
Ähnliche
The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three Acts
Table of Contents
THE
THE FIRST ACT
The Scene represents a drawing-room inMrs. Emptage’shouse near Regent’s Park. At the back are double doors, opening on to a further drawing-room, and these face a window, over which the blinds are drawn, to moderate the glare of the sun, which nevertheless streams through them, for it is a fine afternoon in early summer. The rooms are furnished and decorated in a costly and tasteful fashion.
Mrs. Emptageis reclining upon the settee, her eyes closed, a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. Justinais pacing the room between the door and the window. Mrs. Emptageis a pretty, carefully-preserved woman with dyed hair and “touched-up” face: she is old enough to be the mother of a daughter of nine-and-twenty. Justinais of that age, good-looking, “smart,” and already somewhat passé. Both are fashionably but sombrely dressed.
Tell me the time once more, ’Tina.
[Referring to her watch.] A few minutes to four, mother.
Does the judge of the Divorce Court invariably rise at four o’clock?
He may sit a little later under special circumstances.
To have done with a case if it’s very near its end?
So I’m told.
They must all be here soon, whether that happens or not.
Yes, yes. Oh, but if the confounded thing should last into another day!
A third day’s suspense will kill me.
Ma, I suppose, really, we ought to be reading our Church Services or something.
I can’t concentrate my attention in the least; I have been glancing at “The Yellow Book.”
Hark! what’s that?
I don’t hear anything.
It is somebody!
Mrs. Emptagestruggles to her feet asMrs. Quinton Twelvesenters. Hortonretires. Kate Twelvesis a lively, handsome young woman, brightly dressed.
[Throwing themselves upon her.] Kitty!
[Kissing them.] Well, well, well, well!
Is it over?
Not quite; that is, it wasn’t when I came away. It’s all over by now, I expect.
[Hysterically.] Oh, Kitty——!
Sssh, sssh! everything has gone swimmingly, I tell you.
For Theophila?
Of course, for Theophila.
[Sinking back on to the settee.] I felt sure it would.
But what was happening when you left?
The dear old judge was just beginning to deliver his decision—his judgment.
Oh, how could you come away then?
Certainly, it was a wrench. Only, Theo wrote little notes to Sir Fletcher Portwood and to Claude and me. [Taking a screw of paper from her glove.glove.] Here’s mine. [Reading.] “I won’t have anybody I am fond of, except my husband, in Court at the finish. They tell me they are sure I am cleared, but it frightens me to think you are all waiting. Go to mother’s.”
[Taking the note.] My poor child! [Reading it.] “... they are sure I am cleared....” ’Tina, she’s cleared!
Cleared! I wish you could have heard Sir John Clarkson’s opening speech for Theophila this morning. There was quite a murmur of approval when he sat down.
He let that wretch, Mrs. Jack Allingham, have it—eh? He did!
He said that a morbidly jealous wife is one of the saddest spectacles the world presents; but that when her jealousy leads her to attempt to blacken the reputation, the hitherto spotless reputation, of another woman—in this instance, a young lady more happily married than herself—then that jealous wife becomes a positive danger to society.
I ought to have been there, ’Tina. I said it was my duty, if you remember.
I might have gone.
Certainly; and yet you have both sat at home, quaking; behaving, for all the world, as if you have a lurking suspicion that Theophila really may—really has—really did——
Kate, I will not permit you to say such a thing!
Why these miserable-looking gowns then? You are dressed more funereally to-day than you were yesterday!
[Tearfully.] If you live to see a daughter of yours, however innocent she may be, dragged through the Divorce Court——!
We haven’t been quite certain what we ought to put on.
I considered half-mourning rather a happy thought.
To my mind, it looks as if you had deliberately prepared for all emergencies.
[Rising, in a flutter.] ’Tina, pin some flowers in your dress at once! I’ll get Bristow to stick a bit of relief about me somewhere. And I’ll wear some more rings——
[She goes out.Justinaselects some cut flowers from a vase on the pianoforte.
Oh, Kit, we were dreadfully in the dumps. Bless you for bullying us!
[Taking a pin from her hat.] Come here.
[Going toMrs. Twelves.] By Jove, though! it would have been too rough on us if—if—wouldn’t it?
[Attaching the flowers to the bodice ofJustina’sdress.] Pray complete your sentence.
Well—if Mrs. Allingham had made out her case against Jack Allingham and Theo.
For shame, ’Tina!
Oh, you’re awfully prudish all of a sudden, Kate. You’ve very soon forgotten—— Mind that pin!
What are you saying?
I mean, it isn’t as if we hadn’t all been just a leetle rapid in our time, we three girls—Theo, you, and I. You needn’t be quite so newly-married-womanish with me.
Shut up!
[Glancing round.] No one’s there.
[In an undertone.] We always knew where to draw the line, I hope.
Of course we did. Only, when you’re married, as Theo is, to a cold, dry mummy of a man like Alexander Fraser, the line’s apt to get drawn rather zigzag.
[Finishing with the flowers.] Go away!
Thanks—they’re jolly. [Picking up a little mirror from the table, and making a wry face at herself.] I haven’t had a night’s sound sleep for weeks.
I should think not, with such thoughts in your head. Poor Theo! I’ve been fretting about her too, in a different way.
[Adjusting the flowers with the aid of the mirror.] Yes, but it isn’t only Theo. I’ve been doing a bit of lying-awake on my own account, I can tell you.
Why?
[Moistening her eyelashes as she again surveys her face.] Why, if this business had gone against my sister, it wouldn’t have bettered my chances—eh?
No, perhaps it wouldn’t.
I’m twenty—oh, you know——
Nine.
Ugh, dash it, yes! And this beastly scrape of Theophila’s has been no end of a shocker for me. From to-day I turn over the proverbial new leaf.
So glad, dear.
Just fancy! I’m the only single one out of we three musketeers. Great Scot, Kate, suppose I got left!
[With a laugh.] ’Tina!
But I won’t, you mark me! From to-day I’ll alter—I take my oath I will! No more slang for me, no more swears, no more smokes with the men after dinner, no more cycling at the club in knickers! I’ve been giving too much away——!
[Listening.] Take care!
[Glancing round.] Claude—back.
Claude Emptage, a plain, stumpy, altogether insignificant young man enters—a young man with a pale face, red eyelids and nostrils, a dense look, and heavy, depressed manner.
What news? Any?
It’s finished.
Finished!
Don’t tell me! How?
It’s all right for Theo. Mrs. Allingham’s petition dismissed.
Ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! All right for Theo! [Clapping her hands, almost dancing.Mrs. Twelvesembraces her.] All right for Theo!
Isn’t it splendid?
Ha, ha, ha! All right for——! Mother! ma! ma!
[ToClaude.] You did wait then, in spite of Theo’s orders?
No, not in Court. I hung about outside, with Uncle Fletcher, to hear the result. [Sitting, with a little groan.] Oh!
I must say, Claude, the victory hasn’t left you very cheerful.
Cheerful! Think of the day I’ve spent!
You’ve spent!
Theophila’s brother! [Pointing into space.] The brother of Mrs. Fraser of Locheen! The brother of the witness in the box! Every eye upon me!
[Drily.] I see.
Oh, Kate, I’ve felt this business in more ways than one. It has been a terrible lesson to me.
[Smiling.] My poor Claudio!
[Not looking at her.] No, don’t pity me—despise me. Kitty, how easy it is for a fellow to imperil a woman’s reputation!
[Amused.] Yes, isn’t it?
We attach ourselves to a pretty married woman; we lounge in her drawing-room, her boudoir; we make her our toy, our pastime. Do we allow a single thought of the scandal we may involve her in to check us in our pursuit of pleasure?
[Demurely.] No, I suppose you don’t.
Never!
Perhaps you had better not come to tea with me quite so frequently in the future, Claude.
You are right; you, and others, must see less of me. [Turning to her.] And yet, Kate, I am not all bad!
Sir Fletcher Portwoodenters. He is fifty-one, amiable, pompous, egotistical, foolish.
Why didn’t you wait for me, Claude, my boy?
Sorry; my brain was reeling.
[MeetingMrs. Twelves.] A very proper, a very satisfactory termination of this affair, Mrs. Twelves.
It has been awfully reassuring to see you beaming in Court, Sir Fletcher.
Ha! I daresay my attitude has been remarked. Beaming; why not? I’ve had no doubt as to the result.
No doubt of Theo’s innocence—of course not.
Innocent; that goes without saying—my niece. But the result, in any case, would have been much the same, I venture to think.
Really?
You see, my own public position, if I may speak of it——
Oh, yes.
[Smiling.] And I happen to know the judge—slightly perhaps; but there it is.
But judges are not influenced by considerations of that kind?
Heaven forbid I should say a word against our method of administering law in this country. The House knows my opinion of the English Judicial Bench. At the same time, judges are mortal—I have never concealed that from myself; and Sir William and I have met. [ToClaude.] You saw the judge look at me this morning, Claude?
No.
No? Oh, yes, and I half-smiled in return. Yesterday I couldn’t catch his eye, but today I’ve been half-smiling at him all through the proceedings.
Justinaruns in, seats herself at the pianoforte, and thumps out the Wedding March.
Well, Uncle Fletcher!
Ah! ha!
What price Mrs. Allingham?
Mrs. Emptagereturns. She has relieved the heaviness of her dress by a fichu ofcrêpe de soie.
[EmbracingClaude.] My darling! [EmbracingSir Fletcher.] Oh, my dear Fletcher! Be quiet, ’Tina!
[Justinaplays the air of a popular music-hall melody, softly; Mrs. Twelvescomes to her.
I told you so—hey!
We all said so.
But I’ve been the most emphatic——
Where are Theo and Alec?
They went over to Sir John Clarkson’s chambers directly the case concluded—I fancy, to consult him on some little point that had arisen. I managed to get one word——
[Impulsively kissingMrs. Twelves.] I’m so happy!
I contrived to get just one word with Alec as he was putting Theophila into the carriage. I wanted to tell him——
[Pacing the room, humming the air played byJustina.] Tra, la, la! la, la! tra, la, la!
I wanted to tell him an amusing story I’d heard during the luncheon interval, but he hadn’t time to—— Ha, ha! It’s a legal anecdote. It appears that a fellow of the name of Babbitt once brought an action——
Did the judge apologise, Fletcher?
Apologise!
To Theophila?
A judge never apologises.
He might do worse, where such undeserved distress is occasioned a young wife and her husband——
Hear, hear!
To say nothing of her mother!
I surmise that the judgment of my friend Sir William was very strongly worded, and I daresay an expression of regret followed from Mrs. Allingham’s counsel. But I had quitted the Court, you know——
Oh, yes; Theo wrote you a note——
But you are losing my anecdote. It appears that a man of the name of Babbitt—— One thing, Muriel, I will stake my reputation upon.
[Peeping out at the side of the window blind.] What’s that?
That the public applauded the decision roundly.
[Pacing the room again.] I can hear them doing it! Bravo, Mrs. Fraser! Eh, girls?
Plucky Mrs. Fraser!
How jolly to have been there just then!
As a matter of fact, I talked with several strangers of a humble rank of life, and hinted that a few cheers—so regrettable and unseemly in a court of law as a rule—I hinted that a few cheers would undoubtedly be justifiable in the present instance, as well as peculiarly agreeable to me. It seems that Babbitt——
[After glancing at the card.] Oh——!
Eh?
What’s up?
[ToHorton.] Where is Mrs. Cloys?
[Sir Fletcher, JustinaandClauderise precipitately.
In the morning-room, ma’am. She preferred——
[Taking the card.] I—I—some one will come to her.
Harriet here!
By Jove!
[Making for the door.] No; she is too impossible.
[Intercepting him.] Claude, I dare you to leave the house!
[Sir Fletcheralso moves towards the door.
[Stopping him.] Fletcher, you mustn’t!
Muriel, I distinctly prefer not to meet——
But I must havehave every support; I am unequal to it otherwise. Who will fetch her upstairs? Fletcher, dear!——
In your establishment! Singularly inappropriate!
[Turning toJustina.] Justina——
No thanks, ma.
