Faubert. (Who also speaks with the accent of a foreigner.) Boycott, my friend, are you at home? My friend Boycott, do you hear me? (Receiving no answer, he enters rather cautiously and looks around. He is in black, wearing a long, tightly buttoned frock coat and a tall hat. His hair is red and closely cropped. His voice is soft and his manner stealthy and mechanical.) Where is Boycott, my friend? Ah, he has not yet taken his breakfast. (He crosses over to the curtains, left, and looks through.) No one to be seen. Boycott asks me to call for him at ten o’clock in the morning, and it is now a quarter past ten by the Great Clock, and he is not visible. (Walking round the room, inspecting the objects with curiosity.) Yet he could not have left the house for I have been watching at the front door since eight o’clock. (Takes letters from top of Pianette.) Besides, here are his letters unopened. (Examines them narrowly, scrutinizing the writing, and weighing them in his hand.) One, Mr. Boycott, with the post-mark of London. Two, Monsieur Boycott with the post-mark of Rouen. Three, Madame Boycott with the post-mark of Paris. (Replacing letters.) Ah, I have not yet the pleasure of the acquaintance of Madame Boycott. Poor soul, perhaps she will know me some day. (Going over to the door, right.) Well, I shall call again after breakfast. My friend Boycott is getting very unpunctual—a bad sign—a very bad sign.[46]
The unnaturalness of the two foregoing illustrations needs no comment. The Elizabethan author, knowing that above all else the dramatist must make clear why his people do what they do, used soliloquy with the utmost frankness as the easiest method of exposition. Here are three specimens, one from Webster and two from Shakespeare.
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 houre I appointed Bosola
To fetch the body: when he hath serv’d my turne,