THE SECOND ACT

The Throne Hall of King Darniak. The King is seated on his throne in the centre at the back of the stage; a little to his left, but standing out from the wall, a dark-green seated idol is set up. His Queens are seated about him on the ground, two on his right and two between him and the idol. All wear crowns. Beside the dark-green idol a soldier with a pike is kneeling upon one knee. The tear-song, the chant of the low-born, drifts faintly up from the slave-fields.

FIRST QUEEN

Do show us the new prophet, Majesty; it would be very interesting to see another prophet.

THE KING

Ah, yes.

[He strikes upon a gong, and an Attendant enters, walks straight past the King and bows before the idol; he then walks back to the centre of the stage and bows before the King.

THE KING

Bring the new prophet hither.

[Exit Attendant. Enter the King's Overseer holding a roll of paper. He passes the King, bows to the idol, returns to the front of the King, kneels, and remains kneeling with bended head.

THE KING (speaking in the meanwhile to the Second Queen on his immediate right)

We are making a beautiful arbor for you, O Atharlia, at an end of the great garden. There shall be iris-flowers that you love and all things that grow by streams. And the stream there shall be small and winding like one of those in your country. I shall bring a stream a new way from the mountains. (Turning to Queen Oxara on his extreme right) And for you, too, O Oxara, we shall make a pleasance. I shall have rocks brought from the quarries for you, and my idle slaves shall make a hill and plant it with mountain shrubs, and you can sit there in the winter thinking of the North. (To the kneeling Overseer) Ah, what is here?

THE KING'S OVERSEER

The plans of your royal garden, Majesty. The slaves have dug it for five years and rolled the paths.

THE KING (takes the plans)

Was there not a garden in Babylon?

THE KING'S OVERSEER

They say there was a garden there of some sort, Majesty.

THE KING

I will have a greater garden. Let the world know and wonder. (Looks at the plans)

THE KING'S OVERSEER

It shall know at once, Majesty.

THE KING (pointing at the plan)

I do not like that hill, it is too steep.

THE KING'S OVERSEER

No, Majesty.

THE KING

Remove it.

THE KING'S OVERSEER

Yes, Majesty.

THE KING

When will the garden be ready for the Queens to walk in?

THE KING'S OVERSEER

Work is slow, Majesty, at this season of the year because the green stuff is scarce and the slaves grow idle. They even become insolent and ask for bones.

QUEEN CAHAFRA (to the King's Overseer)

Then why are they not flogged? (To Queen Thragolind) It is so simple, they only have to flog them, but these people are so silly sometimes. I want to walk in the great garden, and then they tell me: "It is not ready, Majesty. It is not ready, Majesty," as though there were any reason why it should not be ready.

FOURTH QUEEN

Yes, they are a great trouble to us.

[Meanwhile the King hands back the plans. Exit the King's Overseer. Reënter Attendant with the Prophet, who is dressed in a long dark brown cloak; his face is solemn; he has a long dark beard and long hair. Having bowed before the idol, he bows before the King and stands silent. The attendant, having bowed to both, stands by the doorway.

THE KING (meanwhile to Queen Atharlia)

Perhaps we shall lure the ducks when the marshes are frozen to come and swim in your stream; it will be like your own country. (To the Prophet) Prophesy unto us.

THE PROPHET (speaks at once in a loud voice)

There was once a King that had slaves to hate him and to toil for him, and he had soldiers to guard him and to die for him. And the number of the slaves that he had to hate him and to toil for him was greater than the number of the soldiers that he had to guard him and to die for him. And the days of that King were few. And the number of thy slaves, O King, that thou hast to hate thee is greater than the number of thy soldiers.

QUEEN CAHAFRA (to Queen Thragolind)

—and I wore the crown with the sapphires and the big emerald in it, and the foreign prince said that I looked very sweet.

[The King, who has been smiling at Atharlia, gives a gracious nod to the Prophet when he hears him stop speaking. When the Queens see the King nod graciously, they applaud the Prophet by idly clapping their hands.

THIRD QUEEN

Do ask him to make us another prophecy, Majesty! He is so interesting. He looks so clever.

THE KING

Prophesy unto us.

THE PROPHET

Thine armies camped upon thy mountainous borders descry no enemy in the plains afar. And within thy gates lurks he for whom thy sentinels seek upon lonely guarded frontiers. There is a fear upon me and a boding. Even yet there is time, even yet; but little time. And my mind is dark with trouble for thy kingdom.

QUEEN CAHAFRA (to Queen Thragolind)

I do not like the way he does his hair.

QUEEN THRAGOLIND

It would be all right if he would only have it cut.

THE KING (to the Prophet, dismissing him with a nod of the head)

Thank you, that has been very interesting.

QUEEN THRAGOLIND

How clever he is! I wonder how he thinks of things like that?

QUEEN CAHAFRA

Yes, but I hate a man who is conceited about it. Look how he wears his hair.

QUEEN THRAGOLIND

Yes, of course, it is perfectly dreadful.

QUEEN CAHAFRA

Why can't he wear his hair like other people, even if he does say clever things?

QUEEN THRAGOLIND

Yes, I hate a conceited man.[ [1]

[Enter an Attendant. He bows before the idol, then kneels to the King.

THE ATTENDANT

The guests are all assembled in the Chamber of Banquets.

[All rise. The Queens walk two abreast to the Chamber of Banquets.

QUEEN ATHARLIA (to Queen Oxara)

What was he talking about?

QUEEN OXARA

He was talking about the armies on the frontier.

QUEEN ATHARLIA

Ah! That reminds me of that young captain in the Purple Guard. They say that he loves Linoora.

QUEEN OXARA

Oh, Thearkos! Linoora probably said that.

[When the Queens come to the doorway they halt on each side of it. Then they turn facing one another. Then the King leaves his throne and passes between them into the Chamber of Banquets, each couple courtseying low to him as he passes. The Queens follow, then the attendants. There rises the wine-song, the chant of the nobles, drowning the chant of the low-born. Only the Idol-Guard remains behind, still kneeling beside Illuriel.

THE IDOL-GUARD

I do not like those things the Prophet said—It would be terrible if they were true—It would be very terrible if they were false, for he prophesies in the name of Illuriel—Ah! They are singing the wine-song, the chant of the nobles. The Queens are singing. How merry they are!—I should like to be a noble and sit and look at the Queens. (He joins in the song)

THE VOICE OF A SENTINEL

Guard, turn out. (The wine-song still continues)

THE VOICE OF ONE HAVING AUTHORITY

Turn out the guard there! Wake up, you accursed pigs!

[Still the wine-song. A faint sound as of swords.

A VOICE CRYING

To the armory! To the armory! Reinforce! The Slaves have come to the armory. Ah! mercy! (For awhile there is silence)

KING ARGIMENES (in the doorway)

Go you to the slave-fields. Say that the palace-guard is dead and that we have taken the armory. Ten of you, hold the armory till our men come from the slave-fields. (He comes into the hall with his slaves armed with swords) Throw down Illuriel.

THE IDOL-GUARD

You must take my life before you touch my god.

A SLAVE

We only want your pike.

[All attack him; they seize his sword and bind his hands behind him. They all pull down Illuriel, the dark-green idol, who breaks into seven pieces.

KING ARGIMENES

Illuriel is fallen and broken asunder.

ZARB (with some awe)

Immortal Illuriel is dead at last.

KING ARGIMENES

My god was broken into three pieces, but Illuriel is broken into seven. The fortunes of Darniak will prevail over mine no longer. (A slave breaks off a golden arm from the throne) Come, we will arm all the slaves. (Exeunt)

KING DARNIAK (enters with Retinue)

My throne is broken. Illuriel is turned against me.

AN ATTENDANT

Illuriel is fallen.

ALL (with King Darniak)

Illuriel is fallen, is fallen. (Some drop their spears)

KING DARNIAK (to the Idol-Guard)

What envious god or sacrilegious man has dared to do this thing?

THE IDOL-GUARD

Illuriel is fallen.

KING DARNIAK

Have men been here?

THE IDOL-GUARD

Is fallen.

KING DARNIAK

What way did they go?

THE IDOL-GUARD

Illuriel is fallen.

KING DARNIAK

They shall be tortured here before Illuriel, and their eyes shall be hung on a thread about his neck, so that Illuriel shall see it, and on their bones we will set him up again. Come!

[Those that have dropped their spears pick them up, but trail them along behind them on the ground. All follow dejectedly.

VOICES OF LAMENTATION (growing fainter and fainter off)

Illuriel is fallen, Illuriel is fallen. Illuriel, Illuriel, Illuriel. Is fallen. Is fallen. (The song of the low-born ceases suddenly. Then voices of the slaves in the slave-fields chanting very loudly) Illuriel is fallen, is fallen, is fallen. Illuriel is fallen and broken asunder. Illuriel is fallen, fallen, fallen.

[Clamor of fighting is heard, the clash of swords, and voices, and now and then the name of Illuriel.

THE IDOL-GUARD (kneeling over a fragment of Illuriel)

Illuriel is broken. They have overthrown Illuriel. They have done great harm to the courses of the stars. The moon will be turned to blackness or fall and forsake the nights. The sun will rise no more. They do not know how they have wrecked the world.

[Reënter King Argimenes and his men.

KING ARGIMENES (in the doorway)

Go you to the land of Ithara and tell them that I am free. And do you go to the army on the frontier. Offer them death, or the right arm of the throne to be melted and divided amongst them all. Let them choose. (The armed slaves go to the throne and stand on each side of it, loquitur) Majesty, ascend your throne. (King Argimenes, standing with his face toward the audience, lifts the sword slowly, lying on both his hands, a little above his head, then looking up at it, loquitur) Praise to the unknown warrior and to all gods that bless him. (He ascends the throne. Zarb prostrates himself at the foot of it and remains prostrated for the rest of the Act, muttering at intervals "Majesty." An armed slave enters dragging the King's Overseer. King Argimenes sternly watches him. He is dragged before the Throne. He still has the roll of parchment in his hand. For some moments King Argimenes does not speak. Then pointing at the parchment) What have you there?

THE KING'S OVERSEER (kneeling)

It is a plan of the great garden, Majesty. It was to have been a wonder to the world. (Unfolds it)

KING ARGIMENES (grimly)

Show me the place that I digged for three years. (The King's Overseer shows it with trembling hands; the parchment shakes visibly) Let there be built there a temple to an Unknown Warrior. And let this sword be laid on its altar evermore, that the ghost of that Warrior wandering by night (if men do walk by night from across the grave) may see his sword again. And let slaves be allowed to pray there and those that are oppressed; nevertheless the noble and the mighty shall not fail to repair there too, that the Unknown Warrior shall not lack due reverence.

[Enter, running, a Man of the household of King Darniak. He starts and stares aghast on seeing King Argimenes.

KING ARGIMENES

Who are you?

MAN

I am the servant of the King's dog.

KING ARGIMENES

Why do you come here?

MAN

The King's dog is dead.

KING ARGIMENES AND HIS MEN (savagely and hungrily)

Bones!

KING ARGIMENES (remembering suddenly what has happened and where he is)

Let him be buried with the late King.

ZARB (in a voice of protest)

Majesty!

CURTAIN

[ [1] It is not necessary for the prophet's hair to be at all unusual.

THE GLITTERING GATE
PERSONS

Jim, lately a burglar}Both dead
Bill, lately a burglar}

Scene: A Lonely Place.

Time: The present.

THE GLITTERING GATE

The Lonely Place is strewn with large black rocks and uncorked beer-bottles, the latter in great profusion. At back is a wall of granite built of great slabs, and in it the Gate of Heaven. The door is of gold.

Below the Lonely Place is an abyss hung with stars.

The rising curtain reveals Jim wearily uncorking a beer-bottle. Then he tilts it slowly and with infinite care. It proves to be empty. Faint and unpleasant laughter is heard off. This action and the accompanying far laughter are repeated continually throughout the play. Corked bottles are discovered lying behind rocks, and more descend constantly through the air, within reach of Jim. All prove to be empty.

Jim uncorks a few bottles.

JIM (weighing one carefully)

That's a full one. (It is empty, like all)

[Singing is heard off left.

BILL (enters from left with a bullet-hole over his eye, singing)

Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves. (Breaking off his song) Why, 'ullo. 'Ere's a bottle of beer. (Finds it empty; looking off and downward) I'm getting a bit tired of those blooming great stars down there and this rocky ledge. I've been walking along under this wall ever since. Why, it must be twenty-four hours since that house-holder shot me. And he needn't have done it, either, I wasn't going to hurt the bloke. I only wanted a bit of his silver stuff. It felt funny, that did. Hullo, a gate. Why, that's the Gate of Heaven. Well, well. So that's all right. (Looks up and up for some time) No. I can't climb that wall. Why, it's got no top to it. Up and up it goes. (Knocks at the door and waits)

JIM

That isn't for the likes of us.

BILL

Why, hullo, there's another bloke. Why, somebody's been hanging him. Why, if it isn't old Jim! Jim!

JIM (wearily)

Hullo.

BILL

Why, Jim! 'Ow long 'ave you been 'ere?

JIM

I am 'ere always.

BILL

Why, Jim, don't you remember me? Why, you taught Bill to pick locks years and years ago when he was a little boy, and had never learnt a trade and hadn't a penny in the world, and never would have had but for you, Jim. (Jim stares vaguely) I never forgot you, Jim. I broke into scores of houses. And then I took on big houses. Out in the country, you know, real big ones. I got rich, Jim, and respected by all who knew me. I was a citizen, Jim, one who dwelt in our midst. And of an evening, sitting over the fire, I used to say, "I am as clever as Jim." But I wasn't, Jim. I couldn't climb like you. And I couldn't walk like you on a creaky stair, when everything's quite still and there's a dog in the house and little rattly things left lying about, and a door that whines if you touch it, and someone ill upstairs that you didn't know of, who has nothing to do but to listen for you 'cause she can't get to sleep. Don't you remember little Bill?

JIM

That would be somewhere else.

BILL

Yes, Jim, yes. Down on Earth.

JIM

But there isn't anywhere else.

BILL

I never forgot you, Jim. I'd be pattering away with my tongue, in Church, like all the rest, but all the time I'd be thinking of you in that little room at Putney and the man searching every corner of it for you with a revolver in one hand and a candle in the other, and you almost going round with him.

JIM

What is Putney?

BILL

Oh, Jim, can't you remember? Can't you remember the day you taught me a livelihood? I wasn't more than twelve, and it was spring, and all the may was in blossom outside the town. And we cleared out No. 25 in the new street. And next day we saw the man's fat, silly face. It was thirty years ago.

JIM

What are years?

BILL

Oh, Jim!

JIM

You see there isn't any hope here. And when there isn't any hope there isn't any future. And when there isn't any future there isn't any past. It's just the present here. I tell you we're stuck. There aren't no years here. Nor no nothing.

BILL

Cheer up, Jim. You're thinking of a quotation, "Abandon hope, all ye that enter here." I used to learn quotations; they are awfully genteel. A fellow called Shakespeare used to make them. But there isn't any sense in them. What's the use of saying ye when you mean you? Don't be thinking of quotations, Jim.

JIM

I tell you there is no hope here.

BILL

Cheer up, Jim. There's plenty of hope there, isn't there? (Points to the Gate of Heaven)

JIM

Yes, and that's why they keep it locked up so. They won't let us have any. No. I begin to remember Earth again now since you've been speaking. It was just the same there. The more they'd got the more they wanted to keep you from having a bit.

BILL

You'll cheer up a bit when I tell you what I've got. I say, Jim, have you got some beer? Why, so you have. Why, you ought to cheer up, Jim.

JIM

All the beer you're ever likely to see again. They're empty.

BILL (half rising from the rock on which he has seated himself, and pointing his finger at Jim as he rises; very cheerfully)

Why, you're the chap that said there was no hope here, and you're hoping to find beer in every bottle you open.

JIM

Yes; I hope to see a drop of beer in one some day, but I know I won't. Their trick might not work just once.

BILL

How many have you tried, Jim?

JIM

Oh, I don't know. I've always been at it, working as fast as I can, ever since—ever since—(Feels his neck meditatively and up toward his ear) Why, ever since, Bill.

BILL

Why don't you stop it?

JIM

I'm too thirsty, Bill.

BILL

What do you think I've got, Jim?

JIM

I don't know. Nothing's any use.

BILL (as yet another bottle is shown to be empty)

Who's that laughing, Jim?

JIM (astonished at such a question, loudly and emphatically)

Who's that laughing?

BILL (looks a little disconcerted at having apparently asked a silly question)

Is it a pal?

JIM

A pal!—(laughs) (The laugh off joins in loudly and for long)

BILL

Well, I don't know. But, Jim, what do you think I've got?

JIM

It isn't any good to you whatever it is. Not even if it is a ten-pound note.

BILL

It's better than a ten-pound note, Jim. Jim, try and remember, Jim. Don't you remember the way we used to go for those iron safes? Do you remember anything, Jim?

JIM

Yes, I am beginning to remember now. There used to be sunsets. And then there were great yellow lights. And one went in behind them through a swinging door.

BILL

Yes, yes, Jim. That was the Blue Bear down at Wimbledon.

JIM

Yes, and the room was all full of golden light. And there was beer with light in it, and some would be spilt on the counter and there was light in that too. And there was a girl standing there with yellow hair. She'd be the other side of that door now, with lamplight in her hair among the angels, and the old smile on her lips if one of them chaffed her, and her pretty teeth a-shining. She would be very near the throne; there was never any harm in Jane.

BILL

No, there was never any 'arm in Jane, Jim.

JIM

Oh, I don't want to see the angels, Bill. But if I could see Jane again (points in direction of laugh) he might laugh as much as he cared to whenever I wanted to cry. You can't cry here, you know, Bill.

BILL

You shall see her again, Jim.

[Jim takes no interest in this remark; he lowers his eyes and goes on with his work.

BILL

Jim, you shall see her again. You want to get into Heaven, don't you?

JIM (not raising his eyes)

Want!

BILL

Jim. Do you know what I've got, Jim?

[Jim makes no answer, goes on wearily with his work.

BILL

You remember those iron safes, Jim, how we used to knock them open like walnuts with "Old Nut-cracker"?

JIM (at work, wearily)

Empty again.

BILL

Well, I've got Old Nut-cracker. I had him in my hand at the time, and they let me keep him. They thought it would be a nice proof against me.

JIM

Nothing is any good here.

BILL

I'll get in to Heaven, Jim. And you shall come with me because you taught me a livelihood. I couldn't be happy there, like those angels, if I knew of anyone being outside. I'm not like that.

[Jim goes on with his work.

BILL

Jim, Jim. You'll see Jane there.

JIM

You'll never get through those gates, Bill. You'll never do it.

BILL

They're only gold, Jim. Gold's soft like lead. Old Nut-cracker would do it if they were steel.

JIM

You'll never do it, Bill.

[Bill puts a rock against the gates, stands on it to reach the lock and gets to work on the lock. A good instrument to use is an egg-whipper. Jim goes on wearily with his work. As Bill works away, fragments and golden screws begin to fall on the floor.

BILL

Jim! Old Nut-cracker thinks nothing of it. It's just like cheese to old Nut-cracker.

JIM

They won't let you do it, Bill.

BILL

They don't know what I've got. I'm getting through it like cheese, Jim.

JIM

Suppose it's a mile thick. Suppose it's a million miles thick. Suppose it's a hundred million miles thick.

BILL

Can't be, Jim. These doors are meant to open outward. They couldn't do that if they were more than four inches at the most, not for an Archbishop. They'd stick.

JIM

You remember that great safe we broke open once, what had coal in it.

BILL

This isn't a safe, Jim, this is Heaven. There'll be the old saints with their halos shining and flickering, like windows o' wintry nights. (Creak, creak, creak) And angels thick as swallows along a cottage roof the day before they go. (Creak, creak, creak) And orchards full of apples as far as you can see, and the rivers of Tigris and Euphrates, so the Bible says; and a city of gold, for those that care for cities, all full of precious stones; but I'm a bit tired of cities and precious stones. (Creak, creak, creak) I'll go out into the fields where the orchards are, by the Tigris and the Euphrates. I shouldn't be surprised if my old mother was there. She never cared much for the way I earned my livelihood (creak, creak), but she was a good mother to me. I don't know if they want a good mother in there who would be kind to the angels and sit and smile at them when they sang and soothe them if they were cross. If they let all the good ones in she'll be there all right. (Suddenly) Jim! They won't have brought me up against her, will they? That's not fair evidence, Jim.

JIM

It would be just like them to. Very like them.

BILL

If there's a glass of beer to be got in Heaven, or a dish of tripe and onions, or a pipe of 'bacca she'll have them for me when I come to her. She used to know my ways wonderful; and what I liked. And she used to know when to expect me almost anywhere. I used to climb in through the window at any hour and she always knew it was me. (Creak, creak) She'll know it's me at the door now, Jim. (Creak, creak) It will be all a blaze of light, and I'll hardly know it's her till I get used to it…. But I'll know her among a million angels. There weren't none like her on Earth and there won't be none like her in Heaven…. Jim! I'm through, Jim! One more turn, and old Nut-cracker's done it! It's giving! It's giving! I know the feel of it. Jim!

[At last there is a noise of falling bolts; the gates swing out an inch and are stopped by the rock.

BILL

Jim! Jim! I've opened it, Jim. I've opened the Gate of Heaven! Come and help me.

JIM (looks up for a moment with open mouth. Then he mournfully shakes his head and goes on drawing a cork)

Another one empty.

BILL (looks down once into the abyss that lies below the Lonely Place)

Stars. Blooming great stars.

[Then he moves away the rock on which he stood. The gates move slowly. Jim leaps up and runs to help; they each take a gate and move backward with their faces against it.

BILL

Hullo, mother! You there? Hullo! You there? It's Bill, mother.

[The gates swing heavily open, revealing empty night and stars.

BILL (staggering and gazing into the revealed Nothing, in which far stars go wandering)

Stars. Blooming great stars. There ain't no Heaven, Jim.

[Ever since the revelation a cruel and violent laugh has arisen off. It increases in volume and grows louder and louder.

JIM

That's like them. That's very like them. Yes, they'd do that!

The curtain falls and the laughter still howls on.

THE LOST SILK HAT
PERSONS

Scene: A fashionable London street.

THE LOST SILK HAT

The Caller stands on a doorstep, "faultlessly dressed," but without a hat. At first he shows despair, then a new thought engrosses him.

Enter the Laborer.

THE CALLER

Excuse me a moment. Excuse me—but—I'd be greatly obliged to you if—if you could see your way—in fact, you can be of great service to me if—

THE LABORER

Glad to do what I can, sir.

CALLER

Well, all I really want you to do is just to ring that bell and go up and say—er—say that you've come to see to the drains, or anything like that, you know, and get hold of my hat for me.

LABORER

Get hold of your 'at!

CALLER

Yes. You see, I left my hat behind most unfortunately. It's in the drawing-room (points to window), that room there, half under the long sofa, the far end from the door. And if you could possibly go and get it, why I'd be (The Laborer's expression changes)—Why, what's the matter?

LABORER (firmly)

I don't like this job.

CALLER

Don't like this job! But my dear fellow, don't be silly, what possible harm—?

LABORER

Ah-h. That's what I don't know.

CALLER

But what harm can there possibly be in so simple a request? What harm does there seem to be?

LABORER

Oh, it seems all right.

CALLER

Well, then.

LABORER

All these crack jobs do seem all right.

CALLER

But I'm not asking you to rob the house.

LABORER

Don't seem as if you are, certainly, but I don't like the looks of it; what if there's things what I can't 'elp taking when I gets inside?

CALLER

I only want my hat—Here, I say, please don't go away—here's a sovereign, it will only take you a minute.

LABORER

What I want to know—

CALLER

Yes?

LABORER

—Is what's in that hat?

CALLER

What's in the hat?

LABORER

Yes; that's what I want to know.

CALLER

What's in the hat?

LABORER

Yes, you aren't going to give me a sovereign—?

CALLER

I'll give you two sovereigns.

LABORER

You aren't going to give me a sovereign, and rise it to two sovereigns, for an empty hat?

CALLER

But I must have my hat. I can't be seen in the streets like this. There's nothing in the hat. What do you think's in the hat?

LABORER

Ah, I'm not clever enough to say that, but it looks as if the papers was in that hat.

CALLER

The papers?

LABORER

Yes, papers proving, if you can get them, that you're the heir to that big house, and some poor innocent will be defrauded.

CALLER

Look here, the hat's absolutely empty. I must have my hat. If there's anything in it you shall have it yourself as well as the two pounds, only get me my hat.

LABORER

Well, that seems all right.

CALLER

That's right, then you'll run up and get it?

LABORER

Seems all right to me and seems all right to you. But it's the police what you and I have got to think of. Will it seem all right to them?

CALLER

Oh, for heaven's sake—

LABORER

Ah!

CALLER

What a hopeless fool you are.

LABORER

Ah!

CALLER

Look here.

LABORER

Ah, I got you there, mister.

CALLER

Look here, for goodness sake don't go.

LABORER

Ah! (Exit)

[Enter the Clerk.

CALLER

Excuse me, sir. Excuse my asking you, but, as you see, I am without a hat. I shall be extraordinarily obliged to you if you would be so very good as to get it for me. Pretend you have come to wind the clocks, you know. I left it in the drawing-room of this house, half under the long sofa, the far end.

CLERK

Oh, er—all right, only—

CALLER

Thanks so much, I am immensely indebted to you. Just say you've come to wind the clocks, you know.

CLERK

I—er—don't think I'm very good at winding clocks, you know.

CALLER

Oh, that's all right, just stand in front of the clock and fool about with it. That's all they ever do. I must warn you there's a lady in the room.

CLERK

Oh!

CALLER

But that's all right, you know. Just walk past up to the clock.

CLERK

But I think, if you don't mind, as there's someone there—

CALLER

Oh, but she's quite young and very, very beautiful and—

CLERK

Why don't you get it yourself?

CALLER

That is impossible.

CLERK

Impossible?

CALLER

Yes, I have sprained my ankle.

CLERK

Oh! Is it bad?

CALLER

Yes, very bad indeed.

CLERK

I don't mind trying to carry you up.

CALLER

No, that would be worse. My foot has to be kept on the ground.

CLERK

But how will you get home?

CALLER

I can walk all right on the flat.

CLERK

I'm afraid I have to be going on. It's rather later than I thought.

CALLER

But for goodness sake don't leave me. You can't leave me here like this without a hat.

CLERK

I'm afraid I must, it's later than I thought.

(Exit)

[Enter the Poet.

CALLER

Excuse me, sir. Excuse my stopping you. But I should be immensely obliged to you if you would do me a very great favor. I have unfortunately left my hat behind while calling at this house. It is half under the long sofa, at the far end. If you could possibly be so kind as to pretend you have come to tune the piano and fetch my hat for me I should be enormously grateful to you.

POET

But why cannot you get it for yourself?

CALLER

I cannot.

POET

If you would tell me the reason perhaps I could help you.

CALLER

I cannot. I can never enter that house again.

POET

If you have committed a murder, by all means tell me. I am not sufficiently interested in ethics to wish to have you hanged for it.

CALLER

Do I look like a murderer?

POET

No, of course not. I am only saying that you can safely trust me, for not only does the statute book and its penalties rather tend to bore me, but murder itself has always had a certain fascination for me. I write delicate and fastidious lyrics, yet, strange as it may appear, I read every murder trial, and my sympathies are always with the prisoner.

CALLER

But I tell you I am not a murderer.

POET

Then what have you done?

CALLER

I have quarrelled with a lady in that house and have sworn to join the Bosnians and die in Africa.

POET

But this is beautiful.

CALLER

Unfortunately I forgot my hat.

POET

You go to die for a hopeless love, and in a far country; it was the wont of the troubadours.

CALLER

But you will get my hat for me?

POET

That I will gladly do for you. But we must find an adequate reason for entering the house.

CALLER

You pretend to tune the piano.

POET

That, unfortunately, is impossible. The sound of a piano being unskilfully handled is to me what the continual drop of cold water on the same part of the head is said to be in countries where that interesting torture is practised. There is—

CALLER

But what are we to do?

POET

There is a house where kind friends of mine have given me that security and comfort that are a poet's necessity. But there was a governess there and a piano. It is years and years since I was able even to see the faces of those friends without an inward shudder.

CALLER

Well, we'll have to think of something else.

POET

You are bringing back to these unhappy days the romance of an age of which the ballads tell us that kings sometimes fought in no other armor than their lady's nightshirt.

CALLER

Yes, but you know first of all I must get my hat.

POET

But why?

CALLER

I cannot possibly be seen in the streets without a hat.

POET

Why not?

CALLER

It can't be done.

POET

But you confuse externals with essentials.

CALLER

I don't know what you call essentials, but being decently dressed in London seems pretty essential to me.

POET

A hat is not one of the essential things of life.

CALLER

I don't want to appear rude, but my hat isn't quite like yours.

POET

Let us sit down and talk of things that matter, things that will be remembered after a hundred years. (They sit) Regarded in this light one sees at once the triviality of hats. But to die, and die beautifully for a hopeless love, that is a thing one could make a lyric about. That is the test of essential things—try and imagine them in a lyric. One could not write a lyric about a hat.

CALLER

I don't care whether you could write a lyric about my hat or whether you couldn't. All I know is that I am not going to make myself absolutely ridiculous by walking about in London without a hat. Will you get it for me or will you not?

POET

To take any part in the tuning of a piano is impossible to me.

CALLER

Well, pretend you've come to look at the radiator. They have one under the window, and I happen to know it leaks.

POET

I suppose it has an artistic decoration on it.

CALLER

Yes, I think so.

POET

Then I decline to look at it or to go near it. I know these decorations in cast iron. I once saw a pot-bellied Egyptian god, named Bēs, and he was meant to be ugly, but he wasn't as ugly as these decorations that the twentieth century can make with machinery. What has a plumber got to do with art that he should dare to attempt decoration?

CALLER

Then you won't help me.

POET

I won't look at ugly things and I won't listen to ugly noises, but if you can think of any reasonable plan I don't mind helping you.

CALLER

I can think of nothing else. You don't look like a plumber or a clock-winder. I can think of nothing more. I have had a terrible ordeal and I am not in the condition to think calmly.

POET

Then you will have to leave your hat to its altered destiny.

CALLER

Why can't you think of a plan? If you're a poet, thinking's rather in your line.

POET

If I could bring my thoughts to contemplate so absurd a thing as a hat for any length of time no doubt I could think of a plan, but the very triviality of the theme seems to scare them away.

CALLER (rising)

Then I must get it myself.

POET

For Heaven's sake, don't do that! Think what it means!

CALLER

I know it will seem absurd, but not so absurd as walking through London without it.

POET

I don't mean that. But you will make it up. You will forgive each other, and you will marry her and have a family of noisy, pimply children like everyone else, and Romance will be dead. No, don't ring that bell. Go and buy a bayonet, or whatever one does buy, and join the Bosnians.

CALLER

I tell you I can't without a hat.

POET

What is a hat! Will you sacrifice for it a beautiful doom? Think of your bones, neglected and forgotten, lying forlornly because of hopeless love on endless golden sands. "Lying forlorn!" as Keats said. What a word! Forlorn in Africa. The careless Bedouins going past by day, at night the lion's roar, the grievous voice of the desert.

CALLER

As a matter of fact, I don't think you're right in speaking of it as desert. The Bosnians, I believe, are only taking it because it is supposed to be the most fertile land in the world.

POET

What of that? You will not be remembered by geography and statistics, but by golden-mouthed Romance. And that is how Romance sees Africa.

CALLER

Well, I'm going to get my hat.

POET

Think! Think! If you enter by that door you will never fall among the foremost Bosnians. You will never die in a far-off, lonely land to lie by immense Sahara. And she will never weep for your beautiful doom and call herself cruel in vain.

CALLER

Hark! She is playing the piano. It seems to me that she might be unhappy about it for years. I don't see much good in that.

POET

No. I will comfort her.

CALLER

I'm damned if you do! Look here! I don't mind saying, I'm damned if you do.

POET

Calm yourself. Calm yourself. I do not mean in that way.

CALLER

Then what on earth do you mean?

POET

I will make songs about your beautiful death, glad songs and sad songs. They shall be glad because they tell again the noble tradition of the troubadours, and sad because they tell of your sorrowful destiny and of your hopeless love.

I shall make legends also about your lonely bones, telling perhaps how some Arabian men, finding them in the desert by some oasis, memorable in war, wonder who loved them. And then as I read them to her, she weeps perhaps a little, and I read instead of the glory of the soldier, how it overtops our transitory—

CALLER

Look here, I'm not aware that you've ever been introduced to her.

POET

A trifle, a trifle.

CALLER

It seems to me that you're in rather an undue hurry for me to get a Jubu spear in me; but I'm going to get my hat first.

POET

I appeal to you. I appeal to you in the name of beautiful battles, high deeds, and lost causes; in the name of love-tales told to cruel maidens and told in vain. In the name of stricken hearts broken like beautiful harp-strings, I appeal to you.

I appeal in the ancient holy name of Romance: do not ring that bell.

[Caller rings the bell.

POET (sits down, abject)

You will marry. You will sometimes take a ticket with your wife as far as Paris. Perhaps as far as Cannes. Then the family will come; a large sprawling family as far as the eye can see (I speak in hyperbole). You'll earn money and feed it and be like all the rest. No monument will ever be set up to your memory but—

[Servant answers bell. Caller says something inaudible. Exit through door.

POET (rising, lifting hand)

But let there be graven in brass upon this house: Romance was born again here out of due time and died young. (He sits down)

[Enter Laborer and Clerk with Policeman. The music stops.

POLICEMAN

Anything wrong here?

POET

Everything's wrong. They're going to kill Romance.

POLICEMAN (to Laborer)

This gentleman doesn't seem quite right somehow.

LABORER

They're none of them quite right to-day.

[Music starts again.

POET

My God! It is a duet.

POLICEMAN

He seems a bit wrong somehow.

LABORER

You should 'a seen the other one.

CURTAIN