The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри
GOODWILLIE. I am certain of it.
DOWAGER. How kind you are, dear.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I only say what I think, Lady Gilding.
DOWAGER. Call me ‘Emily.’ miss goodwillie. Certainly, if you wish it, Emily.
PROFESSOR. For I know now that the greatest glory in a man’s life is to have his arms round the girl he loves —
(LUCY is seen in shadow whispering to him.)
SIR GEORGE. Mildred!
(SIR GEORGE, DOWAGER, and LADY GILDING stare at each other, COSENS and MISS GOODWILLIE pretend to have heard nothing.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. I suppose you will have all your harvest in by the end of the week, Sir George?
SIR GEORGE. Eh — ah — oh! Yes! Mildred, did you?
LADY GILDING. Distinctly.
DOWAGER. So did I.
MISS GOODWILLIE. What is it?
SIR GEORGE. Nothing!
COSENS. It will be a pity if the weather breaks down.
PROFESSOR. Say it again.
LUCY. I love you. You are sure you forgive me?
PROFESSOR. Quite!
DOWAGER and LADY GILDING. White!
PROFESSOR. Did you hear an echo just now?
COSENS. The corn becomes so draggled in wet weather, but I believe the glass says ‘set fair.’ PROFESSOR. Forgive your pretending to faint? Of course I do! It showed that you loved me so much that you couldn’t wait till I discovered for myself that I loved you. Ha, ha, ha!
SIR GEORGE. Fudge!
MISS GOODWILLIE. What?
LUCY. It was the Dowager who gave me the idea.
LADY GILDING. Mamma!
LUCY. And so we may say that we owe our happiness to the Dowager.
PROFESSOR. We must thank her, dear.
SIR GEORGE. Oh, Emily.
PROFESSOR. If the Dowager had not written me that letter, you would not be in my arms now, Lucy.
DOWAGER. I feel sick.
LADY GILDING. Let us go home, George! Good evening!
MISS GOODWILLIE. Going already?
PROFESSOR. There is one thing in her letter that I could not make out?
DOWAGER (alarmed). Come away.
PROFESSOR. It is this — after her signature, there are three crosses. What can they mean?
LUCY. Three crosses! Oh!
LADY GILDING. Mamma!
(sir GEORGE and LADY GILDING gO.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. Any message to Lucy — Emily?
DOWAGER (after seeing the humour of it and bursting into laughter). Tell her, with my love, that I should like to slap her.
(Exit.)
(cosens laughs, miss goodwillie goes to seat and sits.)
COSENS. And the beauty of it is that those two upstairs have not an idea that they have put a whole family to flight! Hullo, Tom!
(Enter professor and lucy.)
PROFESSOR (in garden). Doctor, this is my wife.
(LUCY whispers to him.)
Ah — ah — not yet.
COSENS. I congratulate you both heartily.
LUCY. But how about his illness, Doctor? Hadn’t you better prescribe something for him? Quinine, for instance?
MISS GOODWILLIE. She had you there.
COSENS. She always has me.
(PROFESSOR and LUCY come out of gate.)
Where are you going, Tom?
PROFESSOR. We think — I thought — I thought — that is —
LUCY. He means — I mean — we — we mean —
Miss goodwillie. They are going out for a walk.
COSENS (slyly). Good — I’ll come with you.
PROFESSOR. But — but — we — ah —
LUCY. I — he — we thought —
COSENS. Oh, I am not tired.
PROFESSOR. Dick, I won’t let you come.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Off you go.
COSENS. You must put on your frock-coat, Tom.
LUCY. I like him best in the old coat.
COSENS. Put up her parasol to keep the sun off her, Tom.
(professor is doing so when he remembers there is no sun.)
MISS GOODWILLÏE. Take him away, Lucy.
COSENS. Hie! Hadn’t you better both come back and have an hour at the book?
PROFESSOR. What book?
COSENS. Your great book.
(PROFESSOR snaps his fingers, cosens laughs, lucy and professor go off effie and henders pass in solemn ecstasy, he with his arm round her waist. They don’t see cosens and miss goodwillie who have gone in at gate, cosens looks up to trees and whistles like a bird to its mate. An unseen bird replies, cosens and miss goodwillie smile to each other, but the bird goes on.)
The Little Minister: A Play
Act I
Scene: Caddam Wood on a moonlight evening in May. Time: about 1830. A wood fire is burning on the ground. At the fire sits Tammas Whamond and Snecky Hobart asleep. Bob Dow patrols, carrying a pike, on rocks. They wear corduroy and weavers’ nightcaps, etc. At back is seen the further part of the town of Thrums. The wood rises at back to suggest that the nearer part of the town lies in hollow below. All the lights of the town are out except in five windows. As Dow patrols he shivers with cold. Joe Cruickshanks, another weaver, descends tree. When near the ground he jumps. Dow, startled, runs at him with raised pike.
DOW. Wha is that?
CRUICKSHANKS (drawing back). Lay down your pike. It’s only me.
DOW. As sure as death, Joe Cruickshanks, I thought it was the red-coats. (Grounds pike.) Is all quiet?
CRUICKSHANKS (going to fire). The whole countryside lies as still as salt. And not a red-coat to be seen for miles around. Rob, if I had been a red-coat, what would you have done?
DOW (fiercely). Brained