The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays, Gordon Bottomley et al. [kiss me liar novel english .TXT] 📗
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BARTLEY. Is it your wits you have lost, or is it I myself that have lost my wits?
MRS. FALLON. And it's hard I earned you, slaving, slaving—and you grumbling, and sighing, and coughing, and discontented, and the priest wore out anointing you, with all the times you threatened to die!
BARTLEY. Let you be quiet till I tell you!
MRS. FALLON. You to bring such a disgrace into the parish. A thing that was never heard of before!
BARTLEY. Will you shut your mouth and hear me speaking?
MRS. FALLON. And if it was for any sort of a fine handsome woman, but for a little fistful of a woman like Kitty Keary, that's not four feet high hardly, and not three teeth in her head unless she got new ones! May God reward you, Bartley Fallon, for the black treachery in your heart and the wickedness in your mind, and the red blood of poor Jack Smith that is wet upon your hand!
(Voice of JACK SMITH heard singing)
The sea shall be dry,
The earth under mourning and ban!
Then loud shall he cry
For the wife of the red-haired man!
BARTLEY. It's Jack Smith's voice—I never knew a ghost to sing before. It is after myself and the fork he is coming! (Goes back. Enter JACK SMITH.) Let one of you give him the fork and I will be clear of him now and for eternity!
MRS. TARPEY. The Lord have mercy on us! Red Jack Smith! The man that was going to be waked!
JAMES RYAN. Is it back from the grave you are come?
SHAWN EARLY. Is it alive you are, or is it dead you are?
TIM CASEY. Is it yourself at all that's in it?
MRS. TULLY. Is it letting on you were to be dead?
MRS. FALLON. Dead or alive, let you stop Kitty Keary, your wife, from bringing my man away with her to America!
JACK SMITH. It is what I think, the wits are gone astray on the whole of you. What would my wife want bringing Bartley Fallon to America?
MRS. FALLON. To leave yourself, and to get quit of you she wants, Jack Smith, and to bring him away from myself. That's what the two of them had settled together.
JACK SMITH. I'll break the head of any man that says that! Who is it says it? (To TIM CASEY) Was it you said it? (To SHAWN EARLY) Was it you?
ALL TOGETHER (backing and shaking their heads). It wasn't I said it!
JACK SMITH. Tell me the name of any man that said it!
ALL TOGETHEB (pointing to BARTLEY). It was him that said it!
JACK SMITH. Let me at him till I break his head!
(BARTLEY backs in terror. Neighbors hold JACK SMITH back.)
JACK SMITH (trying to free himself). Let me at him! Isn't he the pleasant sort of a scarecrow for any woman to be crossing the ocean with! It's back from the docks of New York he'd be turned (trying to rush at him again), with a lie in his mouth and treachery in his heart, and another man's wife by his side, and he passing her off as his own! Let me at him, can't you?
(Makes another rush, but is held back.)
MAGISTRATE (pointing to JACK SMITH). Policeman, put the handcuffs on this man. I see it all now. A case of false impersonation, a conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice. There was a case in the Andaman Islands, a murderer of the Mopsa tribe, a religious enthusiast—
POLICEMAN. So he might be, too.
MAGISTRATE. We must take both these men to the scene of the murder. We must confront them with the body of the real Jack Smith.
JACK SMITH. I'll break the head of any man that will find my dead body!
MAGISTRATE. I'll call more help from the barracks.
(Blows POLICEMAN'S whistle.)
BARTLEY. It is what I am thinking, if myself and Jack Smith are put together in the one cell for the night, the handcuffs will be taken off him, and his hands will be free, and murder will be done that time surely!
MAGISTRATE. Come on!
(They turn to the right.)
[CURTAIN] THE BEGGAR AND THE KING[1]Winthrop Parkhurst
[Footnote 1: Reprinted from Drama, No. 33, February, 1919, by
permission of Mr. Parkhurst and the editors of Drama.
Copyrighted, 1918, as a dramatic composition, by Winthrop
Parkhurst. All rights of production reserved by author.]
A chamber in the palace overlooks a courtyard. The season is midsummer. The windows of the palace are open, and from a distance there comes the sound of a man's voice crying for bread. THE KING sits in a golden chair. A golden crown is on his head, and he holds in his hand a sceptre which is also of gold. A SERVANT stands by his side, fanning him with an enormous fan of peacock feathers.
THE BEGGAR (outside). Bread. Bread. Bread. Give me some bread.
THE KING (languidly). Who is that crying in the street for bread?
THE SERVANT (fanning). O king, it is a beggar.
THE KING. Why does he cry for bread?
THE SERVANT. O king, he cries for bread in order that he may fill his belly.
THE KING. I do not like the sound of his voice. It annoys me very much. Send him away.
THE SERVANT (bowing). O king, he has been sent away.
THE KING. If that is so, then why do I hear his voice?
THE SERVANT. O king, he has been sent away many times, yet each time that he is sent away he returns again, crying louder than he did before.
THE KING. He is very unwise to annoy me on such a warm day. He must be punished for his impudence. Use the lash on him.
THE SERVANT. O king, it has been done.
THE KING. Then bring out the spears.
THE SEBVANT. O king, the guards have already bloodied their swords many times driving him away from the palace gates. But it is of no avail.
THE KING. Then bind him and gag him if necessary. If need be cut out his tongue. I do not like the sound of the fellow's voice. It annoys me very much.
THE SERVANT. O king, thy orders were obeyed even yesterday.
THE KING (frowning). No. That cannot be. A beggar cannot cry for bread who has no tongue.
THE SERVANT. Behold he can—if he has grown another.
THE KING. What! Why, men are not given more than one tongue in a lifetime. To have more than one tongue is treason.
THE SERVANT. If it is treason to have more than one tongue, O king, then is this beggar surely guilty of treason.
THE KING (pompously). The punishment for treason is death. See to it that the fellow is slain. And do not fan me so languidly. I am very warm.
THE SERVANT (fanning more rapidly). Behold, O great and illustrious king, all thy commands were obeyed even yesterday.
THE KING. How! Do not jest with thy king.
THE SERVANT. If I jest, then there is truth in a jest. Even yesterday, O king, as I have told thee, the beggar which thou now hearest crying aloud in the street was slain by thy soldiers with a sword.
THE KING. Do ghosts eat bread? Forsooth, men who have been slain with a sword do not go about in the streets crying for a piece of bread.
THE SERVANT. Forsooth, they do if they are fashioned as this beggar.
THE KING. Why, he is but a man. Surely he cannot have more than one life in a lifetime.
THE SERVANT. Listen to a tale, O king, which happened yesterday.
THE KING. I am listening.
THE SERVANT. Thy soldiers smote this beggar for crying aloud in the streets for bread, but his wounds are already healed. They cut out his tongue, but he immediately grew another. They slew him, yet he is now alive.
THE KING. Ah! that is a tale which I cannot understand at all.
THE SERVANT. O king, it may be well.
THE KING. I cannot understand what thou sayest, either.
THE SERVANT. O king, that may be well also.
THE KING. Thou art speaking now in riddles. I do not like riddles. They confuse my brain.
THE SERVANT. Behold, O king, if I speak in riddles it is because a riddle has come to pass.
(THE BEGGAR'S voice suddenly cries out loudly.)
THE BEGGAR (outside). Bread. Bread. Give me some bread.
THE KING. Ah! He is crying out again. His voice seems to me louder than it was before.
THE SERVANT. Hunger is as food to the lungs, O king.
THE KING. His lungs I will wager are well fed. Ha, ha!
THE SERVANT. But alas! his stomach is quite empty.
THE KING. That is not my business.
THE SERVANT. Should I not perhaps fling him a crust from the window?
THE KING. No! To feed a beggar is always foolish. Every crumb that is given to a beggar is an evil seed from which springs another fellow like him.
THE BEGGAR (outside). Bread. Bread. Give me some bread.
THE SERVANT. He seems very hungry, O king.
THE KING. Yes. So I should judge.
THE SERVANT. If thou wilt not let me fling, him a piece of bread thine ears must pay the debts of thy hand.
THE KING. A king can have no debts.
THE SERVANT. That is true, O king. Even so, the noise of this fellow's begging must annoy thee greatly.
THE KING. It does.
THE SERVANT. Doubtless he craves only a small crust from thy table and he would be content.
THE KING. Yea, doubtless he craves only to be a king and he would be very happy indeed.
THE SERVANT. Do not be hard, O king. Thou art ever wise and just. This fellow is exceedingly hungry. Dost thou not command me to fling him just one small crust from the window?
THE KING. My commands I have already given thee. See that the beggar is driven away.
THE SERVANT. But alas! O king, if he is driven away he will return again even as he did before.
THE KING. Then see to it that he is slain. I cannot be annoyed with the sound of his voice.
THE SERVANT. But alas! O great and illustrious king, if he is slain he will come to life again even as he did before.
THE KING. Ah! that is true. But his voice troubles me. I do not like to hear it.
THE SERVANT. His lungs are fattened with hunger. Of a truth they are quite strong.
THE KING. Well, propose a remedy to weaken them.
THE SERVANT. A remedy, O king?
(He stops fanning.)
THE KING. That is what I said. A remedy—and do not stop fanning me. I am exceedingly warm.
THE SERVANT (fanning vigorously). A crust of bread, O king, dropped from yonder window—forsooth that might prove a remedy.
THE KING (angrily). I have said I will not give him a crust of bread. If I gave him a crust to-day he would be just as hungry again to-morrow, and my troubles would be as great as before.
THE SERVANT. That is true, O king. Thy mind is surely filled with great learning.
THE KING. Therefore, some other remedy must be found.
THE SERVANT. O king, the words of thy illustrious mouth are as very meat-balls of wisdom.
THE KING (musing). Now let me consider. Thou sayest he does not suffer pain—
THE SERVANT. Therefore he cannot be tortured.
THE KING. And he will not die—
THE SERVANT. Therefore it is useless to kill him.
THE KING. Now let me consider. I must think of some other way.
THE SERVANT. Perhaps a small crust of bread, O king—
THE KING. Ha! I have it. I have it. I myself will order him to stop.
THE SERVANT (horrified). O king!
THE KING. Send the beggar here.
THE SERVANT. O king!
THE KING. Ha! I rather fancy the fellow will stop his noise when the king commands him to. Ha, ha, ha!
THE SERVANT. O king, thou wilt not have
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