David. Let one cut settle it.
Sir Brice. No. It’s too much to risk on one throw.
David. One cut. Begin.
Sir Brice. It’s too big. I can’t. (Gets up, walks a pace or two.) I like high play, but that’s too high for me. (David remains at back of table, very calm; does not stir all through the scene; Sir Brice walking about.) No, by Jove! I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Three cuts out of five. Damn it all! I’m game! Two out of three. By Jove, two out of three! Will that do?
David. So be it! Shuffle. Sit down!
(Sir Brice sits down; begins shuffling the cards. All through the scene he is nervous, excited, hysterical, laughing. David as cold as a statue.)[34]
An almost similar situation in a play set in a remote part of the West, Believe Me, Xantippe, is more convincing. A loutish beast agrees to gamble for a woman he is kidnapping with a young adventurer who sees at the moment no other way to save her from the other man’s clutches. The scene is not at all improbable for either man. In The Princess and the Butterfly, all the preceding acts are but a preparation for what the world will call the unreason, in the last act, of the marriages of Sir George and the Princess Pannonia,—of middle age with youth. Their final conduct would seem unplausible were it not entirely in keeping with their characters as carefully developed in the earlier parts of the play. The Rising of the Moon of Lady Gregory shows a final situation for the Police Sergeant which, at the opening of the play, would seem impossible for him. In a few pages, however, the dramatist so develops the character that we are perfectly ready to accept his sacrifice of the “hundred pounds reward” which he so coveted at the outset.
Motivation should not, however, be allowed to obtrude itself, but should be subordinated to the emotional purpose of the scene. The modern auditor prefers to gather it almost unconsciously as the action of the play proceeds rather than to have it emphasized for him, as does Iago, at the end of several acts of Othello. Another instance of this frank motivation among the Elizabethans may be found in the soliloquy from The Duchess of Malfi:
| Cardinal. The reason why I would not suffer these About my brother is because at midnight I may with better privacy convay Julias body, to her owne lodging. O, my conscience! I would pray now: but the divell takes away my heart For having any confidence in praier. About this hour I appointed Bosola To fetch the body: when he hath serv’d my turne, He dies.[35] |
Good motivation, then, must be clear; either plausible naturally or made so by the art of the dramatist; should in each particular instance comport with the preceding actions and speech of the character; and should not be so stressed as to draw attention away from the emotional significance of the scene.