Short Plays

heads. Oh, it’s a rotten game, our game. Here’s a real good woman; and she’s had enough of it, finding that it only led to being put upon. Hannah Well, if there was nothing wrong in the world there wouldn’t be anything left for us to do, would there? Elder Daniels Be of good cheer, brothers. Fight on. Seek the path. Blanco No. No more paths. No more broad and narrow. No more good and bad. There’s no good and bad; but by Jiminy, gents, there’s a rotten game, and there’s a great game. I played the rotten game; but the great game was played on me; and now I’m for the great game every time. Amen. Gentlemen: let us adjourn to the saloon. I stand the drinks. He jumps down from the table. The Boys Right you are, Blanco. Drinks round. Come along, boys. Blanco’s standing. Right along to the Elder’s. Hurrah! They rush out, dragging the Elder with them. Blanco To Feemy, offering his hand. Shake, Feemy. Feemy Get along, you blackguard. Blanco It’s come over me again, same as when the kid touched me, same as when you swore a lie to save my neck. Feemy Oh well, here. They shake hands.

Press Cuttings

By direction of the Lord Chamberlain the General and the Prime Minister in this play must in all public performances of it be addressed and described as General Bones and Mr. Johnson, and by no means as General Mitchener and Mr. Balsquith. The allusions to commoner persons are allowed to stand as they are.

General Mitchener, by the way, is not the late Lord Kitchener, but an earlier and more highly connected commander. Balsquith (Balfour-Asquith) is obviously neither of these statesmen, and cannot in the course of nature be both.

Dramatis Personae

• General Mitchener

• Balsquith, the Prime Minister

• An Orderly

• Mrs. Farrell, an Irish charwoman

• Lady Corinthia Fanshawe

• Mrs. Rosa Carmina Banger

• Offstage voices

Press Cuttings

The forenoon of the first of April, 1911.

General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, opening letters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire burning. On his right, against the opposite wall, is a standing desk with an office stool. The door is in the wall behind him, halfway between the table and the desk. The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it is nearer to the hearthrug than to the desk. There is a chair at each end of it for persons having business with the General. There is a telephone on the table.

Long silence.

A Voice Outside	Votes for Women!
	The General starts convulsively; snatches a revolver from a drawer; and listens in an agony of apprehension. Nothing happens. He puts the revolver back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes his work. He is startled afresh by the entry of an Orderly. This Orderly is an unsoldierly, slovenly, discontented young man.
Mitchener	Oh, it’s only you. Well?
The Orderly	Another one, sir. She’s chained herself.
Mitchener	Chained herself? How? To what? We’ve taken away the railings and everything that a chain can be passed through.
The Orderly	We forgot the doorscraper, sir. She lay down on the flags and got the chain through before she started hollerin’. She’s lyin’ there now; and she downfaces us that you’ve got the key of the padlock in a letter in a buff envelope, and that you’ll see her when you open it.
Mitchener	She’s mad. Have the scraper dug up and let her go home with it hanging round her neck.
The Orderly	There is a buff envelope there, sir.
Mitchener	You’re all afraid of these women. He picks the letter up. It does seem to have a key in it. He opens the letter; takes out a key and a note; and reads: “Dear Mitch”⁠—Well, I’m dashed!
The Orderly	Yes, sir.
Mitchener	What do you mean by “Yes, sir”?
The Orderly	Well, you said you was dashed, sir; and you did look⁠—if you’ll excuse my saying it, sir⁠—well, you looked it.
Mitchener	Who has been reading the letter, and is too astonished to attend to the Orderly’s reply. This is a letter from the Prime Minister asking me to release the woman with this key if she padlocks herself, and to have her shown up and see her at once.
The Orderly	Tremulously. Don’t do it, governor.
Mitchener	Angrily. How often have I ordered you not to address me as “governor.” Remember that you are a soldier and not a vulgar civilian. Remember also that when a man enters the army he leaves fear behind him. Here’s the key. Unlock her and show her up.
The Orderly	Me unlock her! I dursen’t. Lord knows what she’d do to me.
Mitchener	Pepperily, rising. Obey your orders instantly, sir; and don’t presume to argue. Even if she kills you, it is your duty to die for your country. Right about face. March.
	The Orderly goes out, trembling.
The Voice Outside	Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women!
Mitchener	Mimicking her. Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women! In his natural voice. Votes for children! Votes for babies! Votes for monkeys! He posts himself on the hearthrug and awaits the enemy.
The Orderly	Outside. In you go. He pushes a panting Suffragette into the room. The person, sir. He withdraws.
	The Suffragette takes off her tailor-made skirt and reveals a pair of fashionable trousers.
Mitchener	Horrified. Stop, madam. What are you doing? You must not undress in my presence. I protest. Not even your letter from the Prime Minister⁠—
The Suffragette	My dear Mitchener: I am the Prime Minister. He takes off his hat and cloak; throws them on the desk; and confronts the General in the ordinary costume of a Cabinet Minister.
Mitchener	Good heavens! Balsquith!
Balsquith	Throwing himself into Mitchener’s chair. Yes: it is indeed Balsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the Prime Minister of England can get from