my face. For two pins I’d flatten your nose in to teach you manners. Introducing a fine woman to you is casting pearls before swine
yelling at him before
swine! d’ye hear?
| He |
With a deplorable lack of polish. You call me a swine again and I’ll land you one on the chin that’ll make your head sing for a week. |
| Her Husband |
Exploding. What—! |
|
He charges at Henry with bull-like fury. Henry places himself on guard in the manner of a well taught boxer, and gets away smartly, but unfortunately forgets the stool which is just behind him. He falls backwards over it, unintentionally pushing it against the shins of Bompas, who falls forward over it. Mrs. Bompas, with a scream, rushes into the room between the sprawling champions, and sits down on the floor in order to get her right arm round her husband’s neck. |
| She |
You shan’t, Teddy: you shan’t. You will be killed: he is a prizefighter. |
| Her Husband |
Vengefully. I’ll prizefight him. He struggles vainly to free himself from her embrace. |
| She |
Henry: don’t let him fight you. Promise me that you won’t. |
| He |
Ruefully. I have got a most frightful bump on the back of my head. He tries to rise. |
| She |
Reaching out her left hand to seize his coattail, and pulling him down again, whilst keeping fast hold of Teddy with the other hand. Not until you have promised: not until you both have promised. Teddy tries to rise: she pulls him back again. Teddy: you promise, don’t you? Yes, yes. Be good: you promise. |
| Her Husband |
I won’t, unless he takes it back. |
| She |
He will: he does. You take it back, Henry?—yes. |
| He |
Savagely. Yes. I take it back. She lets go his coat. He gets up. So does Teddy. I take it all back, all, without reserve. |
| She |
On the carpet. Is nobody going to help me up? They each take a hand and pull her up. Now won’t you shake hands and be good? |
| He |
Recklessly. I shall do nothing of the sort. I have steeped myself in lies for your sake; and the only reward I get is a lump on the back of my head the size of an apple. Now I will go back to the straight path. |
| She |
Henry: for Heaven’s sake— |
| He |
It’s no use. Your husband is a fool and a brute— |
| Her Husband |
What’s that you say? |
| He |
I say you are a fool and a brute; and if you’ll step outside with me I’ll say it again. Teddy begins to take off his coat for combat. Those poems were written to your wife, every word of them, and to nobody else. The scowl clears away from Bompas’s countenance. Radiant, he replaces his coat. I wrote them because I loved her. I thought her the most beautiful woman in the world; and I told her so over and over again. I adored her: do you hear? I told her that you were a sordid commercial chump, utterly unworthy of her; and so you are. |
| Her Husband |
So gratified, he can hardly believe his ears. You don’t mean it! |
| He |
Yes, I do mean it, and a lot more too. I asked Mrs. Bompas to walk out of the house with me—to leave you—to get divorced from you and marry me. I begged and implored her to do it this very night. It was her refusal that ended everything between us. Looking very disparagingly at him. What she can see in you, goodness only knows! |
| Her Husband |
Beaming with remorse. My dear chap, why didn’t you say so before? I apologize. Come! Don’t bear malice: shake hands. Make him shake hands, Rory. |
| She |
For my sake, Henry. After all, he’s my husband. Forgive him. Take his hand. Henry, dazed, lets her take his hand and place it in Teddy’s. |
| Her Husband |
Shaking it heartily. You’ve got to own that none of your literary heroines can touch my Rory. He turns to her and claps her with fond pride on the shoulder. Eh, Rory? They can’t resist you: none of ’em. Never knew a man yet that could hold out three days. |
| She |
Don’t be foolish, Teddy. I hope you were not really hurt, Henry. She feels the back of his head. He flinches. Oh, poor boy, what a bump! I must get some vinegar and brown paper. She goes to the bell and rings. |
| Her Husband |
Will you do me a great favor, Apjohn. I hardly like to ask; but it would be a real kindness to us both. |
| He |
What can I do? |
| Her Husband |
Taking up the poems. Well, may I get these printed? It shall be done in the best style. The finest paper, sumptuous binding, everything first class. They’re beautiful poems. I should like to show them about a bit. |
| She |
Running back from the bell, delighted with the idea, and coming between them. Oh Henry, if you wouldn’t mind! |
| He |
Oh, I don’t mind. I am past minding anything. I have grown too fast this evening. |
| She |
How old are you, Henry? |
| He |
This morning I was eighteen. Now I am—confound it! I’m quoting that beast of a play. He takes the Candida tickets out of his pocket and tears them up viciously. |
| Her Husband |
What shall we call the volume? To Aurora, or something like that, eh? |
| He |
I should call it How He Lied to Her Husband. |
Passion, Poison, and Petrifaction
Or, The Fatal Gazogene
A Brief Tragedy for Barns and Booths
Preface
This tragedy was written at the request of Mr. Cyril Maude, under whose direction it was performed repeatedly, with colossal success, in a booth in Regent’s Park, for the benefit of The Actors’ Orphanage, on the 14th July 1905, by Miss Irene Vanbrugh, Miss Nancy Price, Mr. G. P. Huntley, Mr. Cyril Maude, Mr. Eric Lewis, Mr. Arthur Williams, and Mr. Lennox Pawle.
As
