The Collected Plays of George Bernard Shaw - 60 Titles in One Edition (Illustrated Edition). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
back here. You have had the meanness to come into this house again. [He flushes and retreats a step. She follows him up remorselessly.] What a poor spirited creature you must be! Why dont you go?
[Red and wincing, he starts huffily to get his hat from the table; but when he turns to the door with it she deliberately gets in his way, so that he has to stop.] I dont want you to stay. [For a moment they stand face to face, quite close to one another, she provocative, taunting, half defying, half inviting him to advance, in a flush of undisguised animal excitement. It suddenly flashes on him that all this ferocity is erotic that she is making love to him. His eye lights up: a cunning expression comes into the corners of his mouth: With a heavy assumption of indifference he walks straight back to his chair, and plants himself in it with his arms folded. She comes down the room after him.]
Blanche But I forgot: You have found that there is some money to be made here. Lickcheese told you. You, who were so disinterested, so independent, that you could not accept anything from my father! [At the end of every sentence she waits to see what execution she has done.] I suppose you will try to persuade me that you have come down here on a great philanthropic enterprise to befriend the poor by having those houses rebuilt, eh? [Trench maintains his attitude and makes no sign.] Yes: when my father makes you do it. And when Lickcheese has discovered some way of making it profitable. Oh, I know papa; and I know you. And for the sake of that, you come back here into the house where you were refused, ordered out. [Trench’s face darkens: her eyes gleam as she sees it.] Aha! you remember that. You know it’s true: You cant deny it. [She sits down, and softens her tone a little as she affects to pity him.] Ah, let me tell you that you cut a poor figure; a very, very poor figure, Harry. [At the word “Harry” he relaxes the fold of his arms; and a faint grin of anticipated victory appears on his face.] And you, too, a gentleman! So highly connected! With such distinguished relations! So particular as to where your money comes from! I wonder at you. I really wonder at you. I should have thought that if your family brought you nothing else, it might at least have brought you some sense of personal dignity. Perhaps you think you look dignified at present, eh? [No reply.] Well, I can assure you that you dont: You look most ridiculous as foolish as a man could look. You dont know what to say; and you dont know what to do. But after all, I really dont see what anyone could say in defence of such conduct. [He looks straight in front of him, and purses up his lips as if whistling. This annoys her; and she becomes affectedly polite.] I am afraid I am in your way, Dr Trench. [She rises.] I shall not intrude on you any longer. You seem so perfectly at home that I need make no apology for leaving you to yourself. [She makes a feint of going to the door; but he does not budge; and she returns and comes behind his chair.] Harry. [He does not turn. She comes a step nearer.] Harry : I want you to answer me a question. [Earnestly, stooping over him] Look me in the face. [No reply.] Do you hear? [Putting her hand on his shoulder] Look me in the face. [He still stares straight in front of him. She suddenly kneels down beside him with her breast against his right shoulder, and, taking his face in her hands, twists it sharply towards her.] Harry: what were you doing with my photograph just now, when you thought you were alone? [His face writhes as he tries hard not to smile. She flings her arms round him, and crushes him in an ecstatic embrace as she adds, with furious tenderness:] How dare you touch anything belonging to me? [The study door opens and voices are heard.]
TRENCH I hear some one coming. [She regains her chair with a bound, and pushes it back as far as possible. Cokane, Lickcheese and Sartorius come from the study. Sartorius and Lickcheese come to Trench. Cokane crosses to Blanche in his most killing manner.]
COKANE How do you do, Miss Sartorius? Nice weather for the return of l’enfant prodigue, eh?
BLANCHE Capital, Mr Cokane. So glad to see you. [She gives him her hand, which he kisses with gallantry.]
LICKCHEESE [on Trench’s left, in a low voice] Any noos for us, Dr Trench?
TRENCH [to Sartorius, on his right] I’ll stand in, compensation or no compensation. [He shakes Sartorius’ s hand. The parlor maid has just appeared at the door.]
BLANCHE Supper is ready, papa.
COKANE Allow me.
[Exeunt omnes: Blanche on Cokane’s arm; Lickcheese jocosely taking Sartorius on one arm, and Trench on the other.]
The Philanderer (1898)
ACT I
A lady and gentleman are making love to one another in the drawingroom of a flat in Ashly Gardens in the Victoria district of London. It is past ten at night. The walls are hung with theatrical engravings and photographs — Kemble as Hamlet, Mrs. Siddons as Queen Katharine pleading in court, Macready as Werner (after Maclise), Sir Henry Irving as Richard III (after Long), Miss Ellen Terry, Mrs. Kendal, Miss Ada Rehan, Madame Sarah Bernhardt, Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, Mr. A. W. Pinero, Mr. Sydney Grundy, and so on, but not the Signora Duse or anyone connected with Ibsen. The room is not a perfect square, the right hand corner at the back being cut off diagonally by the doorway, and the opposite corner rounded by a turret window filled up with a stand of flowers surrounding a statue of Shakespear. The fireplace is on the right, with an armchair near it. A small round table, further forward on the same side, with a chair beside it, has a yellow-backed French novel lying open on it. The piano, a grand, is on the left, open, with the keyboard in full view at right angles to the wall. The piece of music on the desk is “When other lips.” Incandescent lights, well shaded, are on the piano and mantelpiece. Near the piano is a sofa, on which the lady and gentleman are seated affectionately side by side, in one another’s arms.
The lady, Grace Tranfield, is about 32, slight of build, delicate of feature, and sensitive in expression. She is just now given up to the emotion of the moment; but her well closed mouth, proudly set brows, firm chin, and elegant carriage show plenty of determination and self respect. She is in evening dress.
The gentleman, Leonard Charteris, a few years older, is unconventionally but smartly dressed in a velvet jacket and cashmere trousers. His collar, dyed Wotan blue, is part of his shirt, and turns over a garnet coloured scarf of Indian silk, secured by a turquoise ring. He wears blue socks and leather sandals. The arrangement of his tawny hair, and of his moustaches and short beard, is apparently left to Nature; but he has taken care that Nature shall do him the fullest justice. His amative enthusiasm, at which he is himself laughing, and his clever, imaginative, humorous ways, contrast strongly with the sincere tenderness and dignified quietness of the woman.
CHARTERIS (impulsively clasping Grace). My dearest love.
GRACE (responding affectionately). My darling. Are you happy?
CHARTERIS. In Heaven.
GRACE. My own.
CHARTERIS. My heart’s love. (He sighs happily, and takes her hands in his, looking quaintly at her.) That must positively be my last kiss, Grace, or I shall become downright silly. Let us talk. (Releases her and sits a little apart from her.) Grace: is this your first love affair?
GRACE. Have you forgotten that I am a widow? Do you think I married Tranfield for money?
CHARTERIS. How do I know?