Short Plays

do that for? Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? The Lady I do mind your asking. It’s no business of yours. However, you’d better know to whom you are speaking. I am Strega Thundridge. She pronounces it Strayga. Reginald What! The female Paderewski! Strega Pardon me. I believe Mr. Paderewski has been called the male Thundridge; but no gentleman would dream of repeating such offensive vulgarities. Will you be good enough to return to your sofa, and hold your tongue, or else leave the room. Reginald But, you know, I am ill. Strega Then go to bed, and send for a doctor. She sits down again to the keyboard. Reginald Falling on his knees. You mustn’t play. You really mustn’t. I can’t stand it. I shall simply not be myself if you start playing. Strega Raising the lid. Then I shall start at once. Reginald Running to her on his knees and snatching at her hands. No, you shan’t. She rises indignantly. He holds on to her hands, but exclaims ecstatically: Oh, I say, what lovely hands you’ve got! Strega The idea! She hurls him to the carpet. Reginald On the floor staring at her. You are strong. Strega My strength has been developed by playing left hand octave passages⁠—like this. She begins playing Liszt’s transcription of Schubert’s “Erlkönig.” Reginald Puts his fingers in his ears, but continues to stare at her. Strega Stopping. I really cannot play if you keep your ears stopped. It is an insult. Leave the room. Reginald But I tell you it’s my room. Strega Rising. Leave the room, or I will ring your bell and have you put out. She goes to the little table, and poises her fingers over the bell call. Reginald Rushing to her. No no: somebody will come if you ring; and I shall go distracted if a stranger comes in. With a touch of her left hand she sends him reeling. He appeals to her plaintively. Don’t you see that I am ill? Strega I see that you are mentally afflicted. But that doesn’t matter to me. The Duchess of Dunmow has engaged me to come to this room and play for two hours. I never break an engagement, especially a two hundred and fifty guinea one. She turns towards the piano. Reginald But didn’t she tell you anything about me? Strega Turning back to him. She said there would be a foolish young man in the room, but that I was not to mind him. She assured me you were not dangerous except to yourself. Collaring him and holding him bent backwards over the piano. But I will have no nonsense about not listening. All the world listens when I play. Listen, or go. Reginald Helpless. But I shall have to sit on the stairs. I daren’t go into any of the rooms: I should meet people there. Strega You will meet plenty of people on the stairs, young man. They are sitting six on each stair, not counting those who are sitting astride the banisters on the chance of hearing me play. Reginald How dreadful! Tearfully. You’ve no right to bully me like this. I’m ill: I can’t bear it. I’ll throw myself out of the window. Strega Releasing him. Do. What an advertisement! It will be really kind of you. She goes back to the keyboard and sits down to play. Reginald Crossing to the window. You’ll be sorry you were so unfeeling when you see my mangled body. He opens the window; looks out; shuts it hastily, and retreats with a scream. There’s a crowd. I daren’t. Strega Pleased. Waiting to hear me play. She preludes softly. Reginald Ravished. Oh! I can stand that, you know. Strega Ironically, still preluding. Thank you. Reginald The fact is, I can play a bit myself. Strega Still preluding. An amateur, I presume. Reginald I have often been told I could make a living at it if I tried. But of course it wouldn’t do for a man in my position to lower himself by becoming a professional. Strega Abruptly ceasing to play. Tactful, that, I don’t think! And what do you play, may I ask? Reginald Oh, all the very best music. Strega For instance? Reginald “I Wish You Belonged to Me.” Strega Rising outraged. You young blackguard! How dare you? Reginald You don’t understand: it’s the name of a tune. Let me play it for you. He sits down at the keyboard. I don’t think you believe I can play. Strega Pardon me. I have heard a horse play the harmonium at a music hall. I can believe anything. Reginald Aha! He plays. Do you like that? Strega What is it? Is it intended for music? Reginald “Oh, You Beautiful Doll.” Strega Take that! She knocks him sprawling over the keyboard. Beautiful doll indeed! Reginald Oh, I say! Look here: that’s the name of the tune too. You seem quite ignorant of the best music. Don’t you know “Rum Tum Tiddle,” and “Alexander’s Rag Time Band,” and “Take Me Back to the Garden of Love,” and “Everybody Likes Our Mary.” Strega Young man: I have never even heard of these abominations. I am now going to educate you musically. I am going to play Chopin, and Brahms, and Bach, and Schumann, and⁠— Reginald Horrified. You don’t mean classical music? Strega I do. He bolts through the central doors. Strega Disgusted. Pig! She sits down at the piano again. Reginald Rushing back into the room. I forgot the people on the stairs: crowds of them. Oh, what shall I do! Oh don’t, Don’t, Don’t play classical music to me. Say you won’t. Please. Strega Looks at him enigmatically and softly plays a Liebeslieder Waltz. !! Reginald Oh, I say: that’s rather pretty. Strega Like it? Reginald Awfully. Oh, I say, you know: I really do wish you belonged to me. Strega suddenly plays a violent Chopin study. He goes into convulsions. Oh! Stop! Mercy! Help! Oh please, please!