Short Plays

until this fight be done. Cashel

Dread monarch: this is called the upper cut,
And this a hook-hit of mine own invention.
The hollow region where I plant this blow
Is called the mark. My left, you will observe,
I chiefly use for long shots: with my right
Aiming beside the angle of the jaw
And landing with a certain delicate screw
I without violence knock my foeman out.
Mark how he falls forward upon his face!
The rules allow ten seconds to get up;
And as the man is still quite silly, I
Might safely finish him; but my respect
For your most gracious majesty’s desire
To see some further triumphs of the science
Of self-defence postpones awhile his doom.

Paradise

How can a bloke do hisself proper justice
With pillows on his fists?

He tears off his gloves and attacks Cashel with his bare knuckles. The Crowd

Unfair! The rules!

Cetewayo

The joy of battle surges boiling up
And bids me join the melee. Isandhlana
And Victory!

He falls on the bystanders. The Chiefs

Victory and Isandhlana!

They run amok. General panic and stampede. The ring is swept away.

Lucian

Forbear these most irregular proceedings.
Police! Police!

He engages Cetewayo with his umbrella. The balcony comes down with a crash. Screams from its occupants. Indescribable confusion. Cashel

Dragging Lydia from the struggling heap.

My love, my love, art hurt?

Lydia

No, no; but save my sore o’ermatchéd cousin.

A Policeman

Give us a lead, sir. Save the English flag.
Africa tramples on it.

Cashel

Africa!
Not all the continents whose mighty shoulders
The dancing diamonds of the seas bedeck
Shall trample on the blue with spots of white.
Now, Lydia, mark thy lover.

He charges the Zulus. Lydia

Hercules
Cannot withstand him. See: the king is down;
The tallest chief is up, heels over head,
Tossed corklike o’er my Cashel’s sinewy back;
And his lieutenant all deflated gasps
For breath upon the sand. The others fly
In vain: his fist o’er magic distances
Like a chameleon’s tongue shoots to its mark;
And the last African upon his knees
Sues piteously for quarter. Rushing into Cashel’s arms. Oh, my hero:
Thou’st saved us all this day.

Cashel

’Twas all for thee.

Cetewayo

Trying to rise. Have I been struck by lightning?

Lucian

Sir, your conduct
Can only be described as most ungentlemanly.

Policeman

One of the prone is white.

Cashel

’Tis Paradise.

Policeman

He’s choking: he has something in his mouth.

Lydia

To Cashel.

Oh Heaven! there is blood upon your hip.
You’re hurt.

Cashel

The morsel in yon wretch’s mouth
Was bitten out of me.

Sensation. Lydia screams and swoons in Cashel’s arms.

Act III

Wiltstoken. A room in the Warren Lodge.

	Lydia at her writing table.
Lydia	O Past and Present, how ye do conflict As here I sit writing my father’s life! The autumn woodland woos me from without With whispering of leaves and dainty airs To leave this fruitless haunting of the past. My father was a very learnèd man. I sometimes think I shall oldmaided be Ere I unlearn the things he taught to me.
	Enter Policeman.
Policeman	Asking your ladyship to pardon me For this intrusion, might I be so bold As ask a question of your people here Concerning the Queen’s peace?
Lydia	My people here Are but a footman and a simple maid; And both have craved a holiday to join Some local festival. But, sir, your helmet Proclaims the Metropolitan Police.
Policeman	Madam, it does; and I may now inform you That what you term a local festival Is a most hideous outrage ’gainst the law, Which we to quell from London have come down: In short, a prizefight. My sole purpose here Is to inquire whether your ladyship Any bad characters this afternoon Has noted in the neighborhood.
Lydia	No, none, sir. I had not let my maid go forth today Thought I the roads unsafe.
Policeman	Fear nothing, madam: The force protects the fair. My mission here Is to wreak ultion for the broken law. I wish your ladyship good afternoon.
Lydia	Good afternoon. Exit Policeman. A prizefight! O my heart! Cashel: hast thou deceived me? Can it be Thou hast backslidden to the hateful calling I asked thee to eschew? O wretched maid, Why didst thou flee from London to this place To write thy father’s life, whenas in town Thou might’st have kept a guardian eye on him⁠— What’s that? A flying footstep⁠—
	Enter Cashel.
Cashel	Sanctuary! The law is on my track. What! Lydia here!
Lydia	Ay: Lydia here. Hast thou done murder, then, That in so horrible a guise thou comest?
Cashel	Murder! I would I had. Yon cannibal Hath forty thousand lives; and I have ta’en But thousands thirty-nine. I tell thee, Lydia, On the impenetrable sarcolobe That holds his seedling brain these fists have pounded By Shrewsb’ry clock an hour. This bruisèd grass And cakèd mud adhering to my form I have acquired in rolling on the sod Clinched in his grip. This scanty reefer coat For decency snatched up as fast I fled When the police arrived, belongs to Mellish. ’Tis all too short; hence my display of rib And forearm mother-naked. Be not wroth Because I seem to wink at you: by Heaven, ’Twas Paradise that plugged me in the eye Which I perforce keep closing. Pity me, My training wasted and my blows unpaid, Sans stakes, sans victory, sans everything I had hoped to win. Oh, I could sit me down And weep for bitterness.
Lydia	Thou wretch, begone.
Cashel	Begone!
Lydia	I say begone. Oh, tiger’s heart Wrapped in a young man’s hide, canst thou not live In love with Nature and at peace with Man? Must thou, although thy hands were never made To blacken others’ eyes, still batter at The image of Divinity? I loathe thee. Hence from my house and never see me more.
Cashel	I go. The meanest lad on thy estate Would not betray me thus. But ’tis no matter. He opens the door. Ha! the police. I’m lost. He shuts the door again. Now shalt thou see My last fight fought. Exhausted as I am, To capture me will cost the coppers dear. Come one, come all!
Lydia	Oh, hide thee, I implore: I cannot see thee hunted down like this. There is my room. Conceal thyself therein. Quick, I command. He goes into the room. With horror I foresee, Lydia, that never lied, must lie for thee.
	Enter Policeman,