The White Christmas and other Merry Christmas Plays

by Walter Ben Hare

Scrooge. Why have you come here to me?

First Spirit. For your own welfare. I must teach you the first lesson of consideration.

Scrooge. But I am considerate.

First Spirit. Are you a kind master to your clerk?

Scrooge. Well, I'm not unkind.

First Spirit. Do you remember your own first master? One Fezziwig by name?

Scrooge. Indeed, I do. Bless his dear, old heart. He was the kindest master that ever lived.

First Spirit. Then why haven't you followed his good example? Would any of your clerks say that you were the kindest master that ever lived?

Scrooge. Well, times have changed, that's it—it's all the fault of the times.

First Spirit. It's all the fault of a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel has ever struck out a generous fire. No wind that blows is more bitter than he, no falling snow is more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. And his name is Ebenezer Scrooge.