Hay Fever

By Noël Coward.

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To
Lorn Loraine

Characters

Judith Bliss
David Bliss
Sorel Bliss
Simon Bliss
Myra Arundel
Richard Greatham
Jackie Coryton
Sandy Tyrell
Clara

The action of the play takes place in the hall of the Blisses’ house at Cookham, in June.

Act I: Saturday afternoon.

Act II: Saturday evening.

Act III: Sunday morning.

Hay Fever

Act I

Scene: The hall of David Bliss’s house is very comfortable and extremely untidy. There are several of Simon’s cartoons scattered about the walls, masses of highly coloured American and classical music strewn about the piano, and lots of flowers and comfortable furniture. A staircase ascends to a small balcony leading to the bedrooms, David’s study and Simon’s room. There is a door leading to the library down R. A service door above it under the stairs. There are French windows at back, and the front door on the L.

	When the curtain rises it is about three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon in June. Simon, in an extremely dirty tennis shirt and baggy grey flannel trousers, is crouched in the middle of the floor, cutting out squares from cartridge paper. Sorel, more neatly dressed, is stretched on the sofa, reading a very violently bound volume of poems which have been sent to her by an aspiring friend.
Sorel	Listen to this, Simon. She reads. “Love’s a Trollop stained with wine⁠—Clawing at the breasts of Adolescence⁠—Nuzzling, tearing, shrieking, beating⁠—God, why were we fashioned so!” She laughs.
Simon	The poor girl’s potty.
Sorel	I wish she hadn’t sent me the beastly book. I must say something nice about it.
Simon	The binding’s very dashing.
Sorel	She used to be such fun before she married that gloomy little man.
Simon	She was always a fierce poseuse. It’s so silly of people to try and cultivate the artistic temperament. Au fond she’s just a normal, bouncing Englishwoman.
Sorel	You didn’t shave this morning.
Simon	I know I didn’t, but I’m going to in a minute, when I’ve finished this.
Sorel	I sometimes wish we were more normal and bouncing, Simon.
Simon	Why?
Sorel	I should like to be a fresh, open-air girl with a passion for games.
Simon	Thank God you’re not.
Sorel	It would be so soothing.
Simon	Not in this house.
Sorel	Where’s Mother?
Simon	In the garden, practising.
Sorel	Practising?
Simon	She’s learning the names of the flowers by heart.
Sorel	What’s she up to?
Simon	I don’t know.⁠—Damn! that’s crooked.
Sorel	I always distrust her when she becomes the Squire’s lady.
Simon	So do I.
Sorel	She’s been at it hard all day⁠—she tapped the barometer this morning.
Simon	She’s probably got a plan about impressing somebody.
Sorel	Taking a cigarette. I wonder who.
Simon	Some dreary, infatuated young man will appear soon, I expect.
Sorel	Not today? You don’t think she’s asked anyone down today, do you?
Simon	I don’t know. Has Father noticed anything?
Sorel	No; he’s too immersed in work.
Simon	Perhaps Clara will know.
Sorel	Yell for her.
Simon	Calling. Clara! Clara!⁠ ⁠…
Sorel	Oh, Simon, I do hope she hasn’t asked anyone down today.
Simon	Why? Have you?
Sorel	Yes.
Simon	Crossly. Why on earth didn’t you tell me?
Sorel	I didn’t think you’d care one way or another.
Simon	Who is it?
Sorel	Richard Greatham.
Simon	How exciting! I’ve never heard of him.
Sorel	I shouldn’t flaunt your ignorance if I were you⁠—it makes you look silly.
Simon	Rising. Well, that’s done. He rolls up the cartridge paper.
Sorel	Everybody’s heard of Richard Greatham.
Simon	Amiably. How lovely for them.
Sorel	He’s a frightfully well-known diplomatist⁠—I met him at the Mainwarings’ dance.
Simon	He’ll need all his diplomacy here.
Sorel	I warned him not to expect good manners, but I hope you’ll be as pleasant to him as you can.
Simon	Gently. I’ve never met any diplomatists, Sorel, but as a class I’m extremely prejudiced against them. They’re so suave and polished and debonair.
Sorel	You could be a little more polished without losing caste.
Simon	Will he have the papers with him?
Sorel	What papers?
Simon	Vaguely. Oh, any papers.
Sorel	I wish you’d confine your biting irony to your caricatures, Simon.
Simon	And I wish you’d confine your girlish infatuations to London, and not force them on your defenceless family.
Sorel	I shall keep him out of your way as much as possible.
Simon	Do, darling.
	Enter Clara. She is a hot, round, untidy little woman.
Simon	Clara, has Mother asked anyone down this weekend?
Clara	I don’t know, dear. There isn’t much food in the house, and Amy’s got toothache.
Sorel	I’ve got some oil of cloves somewhere.
Clara	She tried that, but it only burnt her tongue. The poor girl’s been writhing about in the