Short Plays

her personally. Will you explain to her about the boys? Ermyntrude I am afraid the explanation will fall rather flat without your magnetism. The Inca Returning to her and speaking very humanly. You are making fun of me. Why does everybody make fun of me? Is it fair? Ermyntrude Seriously. Yes, it is fair. What other defence have we poor common people against your shining armor, your mailed fist, your pomp and parade, your terrible power over us? Are these things fair? The Inca Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps. He looks at his watch. By the way, there is time for a drive round the town and a cup of tea at the Zoo. Quite a bearable band there: it does not play any patriotic airs. I am sorry you will not listen to any more permanent arrangement; but if you would care to come⁠— Ermyntrude Eagerly. Ratherrrrrr. I shall be delighted. The Inca Cautiously. In the strictest honor, you understand. Ermyntrude Don’t be afraid. I promise to refuse any incorrect proposals. The Inca Enchanted. Oh! Charming woman: how well you understand men! He offers her his arm: they go out together.

Augustus Does His Bit

A True-to-Life Farce

Preface

I wish to express my gratitude for certain good offices which “Augustus” secured for me in January, 1917. I had been invited to visit the theatre of war in Flanders by the Commander-in-Chief: an invitation which was, under the circumstances, a summons to duty. Thus I had occasion to spend some days in procuring the necessary passport and other official facilities for my journey. It happened just then that the Stage Society gave a performance of this little play. It opened the heart of every official to me. I have always been treated with distinguished consideration in my contracts with bureaucracy during the war; but on this occasion I found myself persona grata in the highest degree. There was only one word when the formalities were disposed of; and that was “We are up against Augustus all day.” The showing-up of Augustus scandalized one or two innocent and patriotic critics who regarded the prowess of the British army as inextricably bound up with Highcastle prestige. But our Government departments knew better: their problem was how to win the war with Augustus on their backs, well-meaning, brave, patriotic, but obstructively fussy, self-important, imbecile, and disastrous.

Save for the satisfaction of being able to laugh at Augustus in the theatre, nothing, as far as I know, came of my dramatic reduction of him to absurdity. Generals, admirals, Prime Ministers and Controllers, not to mention Emperors, Kaisers and Tsars, were scrapped remorselessly at home and abroad, for their sins or services, as the case might be. But Augustus stood like the Eddystone in a storm, and stands so to this day. He gave us his word that he was indispensable and we took it.

Dramatis Personae

• Lord Augustus Highcastle

• Horatio Floyd Beamish

• The Lady

Augustus Does His Bit

The Mayor’s parlor in the Town Hall of Little Pifflington. Lord Augustus Highcastle, a distinguished member of the governing class, in the uniform of a colonel, and very well preserved at forty-five, is comfortably seated at a writing table with his heels on it, reading The Morning Post. The door faces him, a little to his left, at the other side of the room. The window is behind him. In the fireplace, a gas stove. On the table a bell button and a telephone. Portraits of past Mayors, in robes and gold chains, adorn the walls.

	An elderly Clerk with a short white beard and whiskers, and a very red nose, shuffles in.
Augustus	Hastily putting aside his paper and replacing his feet on the floor. Hullo! Who are you?
The Clerk	The staff. A slight impediment in his speech adds to the impression of incompetence produced by his age and appearance.
Augustus	You the staff! What do you mean, man?
The Clerk	What I say. There ain’t anybody else.
Augustus	Tush! Where are the others?
The Clerk	At the front.
Augustus	Quite right. Most proper. Why aren’t you at the front?
The Clerk	Over age. Fifty-seven.
Augustus	But you can still do your bit. Many an older man is in the G.R.’s, or volunteering for home defence.
The Clerk	I have volunteered.
Augustus	Then why are you not in uniform?
The Clerk	They said they wouldn’t have me if I was given away with a pound of tea. Told me to go home and not be an old silly. A sense of unbearable wrong, till now only smouldering in him, bursts into flame. Young Bill Knight, that I took with me, got two and sevenpence. I got nothing. Is it justice? This country is going to the dogs, if you ask me.
Augustus	Rising indignantly. I do not ask you, sir; and I will not allow you to say such things in my presence. Our statesmen are the greatest known to history. Our generals are invincible. Our army is the admiration of the world. Furiously. How dare you tell me that the country is going to the dogs!
The Clerk	Why did they give young Bill Knight two and sevenpence, and not give me even my tram fare? Do you call that being great statesmen? As good as robbing me, I call it.
Augustus	That’s enough. Leave the room. He sits down and takes up his pen, settling himself to work. The Clerk shuffles to the door. Augustus adds, with cold politeness: Send me the Secretary.
The Clerk	I’m the Secretary. I can’t leave the room and send myself to you at the same time, can I?
Augustus	Don’t be insolent. Where is the gentleman I have been corresponding with: Mr. Horatio Floyd Beamish?
The Clerk	Returning and bowing. Here. Me.
Augustus	You! Ridiculous. What right have you to call yourself by a pretentious name of that sort?
The Clerk	You may drop the Horatio Floyd. Beamish is good enough for me.
Augustus	Is there nobody else to take my