The Provincetown plays

THE

PROVINCETOWN
PLAYS

FIRST SERIES:

Bound East for Cardiff: Eugene G. O'Neill

The Game : Louise Bryant

King Arthur's Socks: Floyd Dell

NEW YORK

FRANK SHAY
1916

HtTA,

Copyright, 1915 by Louise Bryant.
Copyright, 1916 by Eugene G. O'Nettl,

Copyright, 1916 by Floyd Dell.

Copyright, 1916 by Frank Shay.

Application for permission to perform these plays
may be made to the Provincetown Players, 139
Macdougal Street, New York; no performance can
take place without arrangement with the owners of
the acting rights.

BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF

A Sea Play
By Eugene G. O'Neill

Bound East for Cardiff

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

BY EUGENE G. O'NEILL

As Produced at the Playwrights' Theatre
New York City

YANK
DRISCOLL
COCKY
DAVIS .

SCOTTY . / .

OLESON

A NORWEGIAN

SMITTY

IVAN . .

THE CAPTAIN

THE SECOND MATE

GEORGE CRAM COOK

WILLIAM STUART

EDWARD J. BALLANTINE

HARRY KEMP

FRANK SHAY

B. J. O. NORDFELDT

DONALD CORLEY

t LEW PARRISH

FRANCIS BUZZELL

HENRY MARION HALL

EUGENE G. O'NEILL

Bound East for Cardiff

SCENE, : The seamen's forecastle on a British tramp
steamer- —an irregular shaped compartment the sides of
which almost meet at the far end to form a triangle. Sleep
ing bunks about six feet long, ranged three deep with a
space of three feet separating the upper from the lower, are
built against the sides. On the right above the bunks
three or four port holes can be seen. In front of the bunks,
rough wooden benches. Over the bunks on the left, a
lamp in a bracket. In the left foreground, a doorway. On
the floor near it, a pail with a tin dipper. Oilskins are
hanging from a hook near the doorway.

The far side of the forecastle is so narrow that it contains
only one series of bunks.

In under the bunks a glimpse can be had of sea-chests,
suitcases, seaboots, etc., jammed in indiscriminately.

At regular intervals of a minute or so the blast of the
steamers whistle can be heard above all the other sounds.

Five men are sitting on the benches talking. They are

dressed in dirty patched suits of dungaree, flannel shirts,

and all are in their stocking feet. Four of the men are

pulling on pipes and the air is heavy with rancid tobacco

.smoke. Sitting on the top bunk in the left foreground a

blonde Norwegian is softly playing some folk song on a

battered accordion. He stops from time to time to listen

Jo the conversation.

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

In the lower bunk in the rear a dark-haired, middle-aged
man is lying apparently asleep. One of his arms is stretched
limply over the side of the bunk. His face is very pale and
drops of clammy perspiration glisten on his forehead.

It is nearing the end of the dog watch — about ten minutes
to eight in the evening.

COCKY: (A weazened runt of a man. He is telling a
story. The others are listening with amused, incredulous
faces, interrupting him at the end of each sentence with
loud derisive guffaws.) Maikin' love to me, she was! It's
Gawd's truth ! A bloomin' nigger ! Greased all over with
coconut oil, she was. Gawd blimey, I couldn't stand 'er.
Bloody old cow, I says; and with that I fetched 'er a biff
on the ear wot knocked 'er silly, an' — " (He is interrupted
by a roar of laughter from the others.)

DAVIS: (A middle-aged man zvith brown hair and mus
tache.) You're a liar, Cocky.

SCOTTY: (A dark young fellow.) Ho-ho! Ye werr
neverr in New Guinea in yourr life, I'm thinkin'.

OLESON : (A Swede with an enormous blonde mustache —
with ponderous sarcasm.) Yust tink of it! You say she
wass a cannibal, Cocky?

DRISCOU,: (A red haired giant with the battered features
of a prizefighter.) How cud ye doubt ut, Oleson? A
quane av the naygurs she musta been surely. Who else
wud think herself aqual to fallin' in love with a beauthiful,
divil-may-care rake av a man the loike av Cocky? (A
burst of laughter from the crowd.)

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

COCKY: (Indignantly.) Gawd strike me dead if it ain't
true, every bleedin' word of it. 'Appened ten year ago
come Christmas.

SCOTTY : T'was a Christmas dinner she had her eyes on.
DAVIS: He'd a been a tough old bird.

DRISCOLL: T'is lucky for both av ye ye escaped; for the
quane av the cannibal isles wad'a died av the belly ache the
day afther Christmas, divil a doubt av ut. (The laughter
at this is long and loud.)

COCKY: (Sullenly.) Blarsted fat'eads! (The sick man
in the lower bunk in the rear groans and moves restlessly.
There is a hushed silence. All the men turn and stare at
him.)

DRISCOU,: Ssshh! (In a hushed whisper.) We'd best
not be talkin' so loud and him tryin' to have a bit av a
sleep. (He tiptoes softly to the side of the bunk.) Yank!
You'd be wantin' a drink av wather, maybe? (Yank does
not reply. Driscoll bends over and looks at him.) It's
asleep he is, sure enough. His breath is chokin' in his
throat loike wather gurglin' in a poipe. (He comes back
quietly and sits down. All are silent, avoiding each other's
eyes. )

COCKY: (After a pause.) Pore devil! Its over the side
for 'im, Gawd 'elp 'im.

DRISCOU, : Stop your croakin' ! He's not dead yet and,
praise God he'll have many a long day yet before him.

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

SCOTTY: (Shaking his head doubtfully.) He's baad, mon,
he's verry baad.

DAVIS: Lucky he's alive. Many a man's light woulda
gone out after a fall like that.

GIBSON : You saw him fall ?

DAVIS : Right next to him. He and me was goin' down
in Number Two hold to do some chippin'. He puts his leg
over careless-like and misses the ladder and plumps straight
down to the bottom. I was scared to look over for a
minute, and then I heard him groan and I scuttled down
after him. He was hurt bad inside'Jor the' blood was drip-
pin' from the side of his mouth. He was groanin' hard
but he never let a word out of him.

COCKY : An' you blokes remember when we 'auled 'irn in
'ere? Oh 'ell, 'e says, oh 'ell — like that, and nothink else.

OLESON : Did the captain know where he iss hurted ?

COCKY : That silly ol' josser ! Wot the 'ell would 'e know
abaht anythink?

SCOTTY: (Scornfully.) He fiddles in his mouth wi' a bit
of glass.

' DRISCOLL: (Angrily.) The divil's own life ut is to be
out on the lonely sea wid nothin' betune you and a grave in
the ocean, but a spindle-shanked, grey-whiskered auld fool
the loike av him. T'was enough to make a saint shwear
to see him wid his gold watch in his hand, tryin' to look as
wise as an owl on a tree, and all the toime he not knowin'
whether t'was cholery or the barber's itch was the matther
wid Yank.

10

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

SCOTT Y : (Sardonically.) He gave him a dose of salts,
na doot ?

DRISCOLI, : Divil a thing he gave him at all, but looked in
the book he 'had wid him, and shook his head, and walked
out widout savin' a word, the second mate afther him no
wiser than himself, God's curse on the two av thim!

COCKY: (After a pause.) Yank was a good shipmate,
pore beggar. Lent me four bob in Noo Yark, 'e did.

DRISCOLL: (Warmly.) A good shipmate he was and isr
none betther. Ye said no more than the truth, Cocky.
Five years and more ut is since first I shipped wid him, and
we've stuck together iver since through good luck and bad.
Fights we've had, God 'help us,.' but t'was only when we'd
a bit av drink taken, and we always shook hands the nixt
mornin'. Whativer was his was mine, and many's the
toime I'd a been on the beach or worse, but for him. And
now — (His voice trembles as he fights to control his
emotion.) "Divil take me if I'm not startin' to blubber
loike an auld woman, and he not dead at all but goin'/to
live many a long year yet, maybe.

DAVIS : The sleep'll do him good. He seems better now.
OLESON : If he wude eat something. —

DRISCOLL: Wud ye have him be eatin' in his condishun?
Sure its hard enough on the rest av us wid nothin' the
matther wid our insides to be stomachin' the skoff on this
rusty lime- juicer.

SCOTT Y: (Indignantly.) It's a starvation ship.

11

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DAVIS: Plenty o' work and no food — and the owners
ridin' around in carriages !

OUSSO.N: Hash, hash! Stew, stew! Marmalade, py
damn! (He spits disgustedly.)

COCKY : Bloody swill ! Fit only for swine is wot I say.

DRISCOIX: And the dishwather they disguise wid the
name av tea !' And the putty they call bread ! My belly
feels loike I'd swalleyed a dozen rivets at the thought av
ut! And sea-biscuit that'd break the teeth av a lion if
he had the misfortune to take a bite at one ! ( Unconscious
ly they have all raised their voices, forgetting the sick man
in their sailor's delight at finding something to grumble
about.)

THE; NORWEGIAN: (Stops playing accordion — says
slowly) And rot-ten po-tay-toes !; (He starts in playing
again. The sick man gives a groan of pain.)

DRISCOU,: (Holding up his hand.) Shut your mouths,
all av you. T'is a hell av a thing for us to be complainin'
about our guts, and a sick man maybe dyin' listenin' to us.
(Gets up and shakes his fist at the Norwegian.)\ God stiffen
you, ye square-head scut! Put down that organ av yours
or I'll break your ugly face for you. Is that banshee
schreechin' fit music for a sick man? (The Norwegian
puts his accordion in the bunk and lays back and closes his
eyes. Driscoll goes over and stands beside Yank. The
steamer's whistle sounds particularly loud in the silence.)

DAVIS: Damn this fog! (Reaches in under a bunk and
yanks out a pair of seaboots which he pulls on.) My look-

12

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

out next, too. Must be nearly eight bells, boys. (With
the exception of Oleson, all the men sitting up put on oil
skins, sou' westers, seaboots, etc. in preparation for the
ivatch on deck. Oleson crawls into a lower bunk on the
right.)

SCOTTY: My wheel.

OLESON: (Disgustedly.) Nothm' but yust dirty weather
all dis voyage. I yust can't sleep when weestle blow. (He
turns his back to the light and is soon fast asleep and
snoring.)

SCOTTY : If this fog keeps up, I'm tellin' ye, we'll no be in
Cardiff for a week or more.

DRISCOLL: T'was just such a night as this the auld Dover
wint down. Just about this toime it was, too, and we all
sittin' round in the fo'castle, Yank beside me, whin all av
a suddint we heard a great slitherin' crash, and the ship
heeled over till we was all in a heap on wan side. What
came afther I disremimber exactly, except t'was a hard
shift to get the boats over the side before the auld tea-
kittle sank. Yank was in the same boat wid me, and sivin
morthal days we drifted wid scarcely a drop of wather or
a bite to chew on. T'was Yank here that held me down
whin I wanted to jump into the ocean, roarin' mad wid the
thirst. . . Picked up we were on the same day wid only Yank
in his senses, and him steerin' the boat.

COCKY: (Protestingly.) Blimey but you're a cheerful
blighter, Driscoll ! Talkin' abaht shipwrecks in this 'ere
blushin' fog. / ( Yank groans and stirs uneasily, opening
his eyes. Driscoll hurries to his side.)

13

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DRISCOIX: Are you feelin' any betther, Yank?
YANK: (In a weak voice.) No.

DRISCOU,: Sure you must be. You look as sthrong as
an ox. (Appealing to the others.) Am I tellin' him a lie?

DAVIS : The sleep's done you good.

COCKY : You'll be 'avin your pint of beer in Cardiff this
day week.

SCOTTY : And fish and chips, mon !

YANK: (Peevishly.) What're yuh all liein' fur? D'yuh
think I'm scared to — (He hesitates as if frightened by the
word he is about to say.)

DRISCOU, : Don't be thinkin' such things ! ( The ships
bell is heard heavily tolling eight times. From the fore
castle head above, the voice of the lookout rises in a long
zvail: Aaalls welll. The men look uncertainly at Yank as
if undecided whether to say good'bye or not.)

YANK: (In an agony of fear.} Don't leave me, Drisc!
I'm dyin', I tell yuh. I won't stay here alone with every
one snorin'. I'll go out on deck. (He makes a feeble at
tempt to rise but sinks back with a sharp groan. His breath
comes in wheezy gasps.) Don't leave me, Drisc! (His
face grows white and his head falls back with a jerk)

DRISCOLL: Don't be worryin', Yank. I'll not move a
step out av here — and let that divil av a bosun curse his
black head off. You speak a word to the -bosun, Cocky.
Tell him that Yank is bad took and I'll be stayin' wid him
a while yet.

14

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

COCKY: Right-o (Cocky, Davis, and Scotty go out
quietly.)

COCKY: (From the alleyway.) Gawd blimey, the fog's
thick as soup.

DRISCOLL: Are ye satisfied now, Yank? (Receiving no
answer he bends over the still form.) He's fainted, God
help him! (He gets a tin dipper from the bucket, and
bathes Yanks forehead with the water. Yank shudders
and opens his eyes.)

YANK: (Slowly.) I thought I was goin' then. Wha'
did yuh wanta wake me up fur?

DRISCOU,: (With forced gaiety.) Is it wishful for
heaven ye are?

YANK: (Gloomily.) Hell, I guess.

DRISCOU,: (Crossing himself involuntarily.) For the
love av the saints don't be talkin' loike that! You'd give
a man the creeps. It's chippin' rust on deck you'll be in a
day or two wid the best av us. (Yank does not answer
but closes his eyes wearily. The seamen who has been on
lookout, a young Englishman, comes in and takes off his
dripping oilskins. While he is doing this the man whose
turn at the wheel has been relieved enters. He is a dark
burly fellow with a round stupid face. The Englishman
steps softly over to Driscoll. The other crawls into a lower
bunk.)

THE ENGLISHMAN : (Whispering.) How's Yank.
DRISCOLL: Betther. Ask him yourself. He's awake.

15

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

YANK: I'm all right, Smitty.

SMITTY: Glad to hear it, Yank. (He crawls to an upper
bunk and is soon asleep.)

(The stupid faced seaman who came in after Smitty
twists his head in the direction of the sick man.) You
feel glide, Jank?

YANK: (Wearily.) Yes, Ivan.

IVAN: Dots gude. (He rolls over on his side and falls
asleep immediately.)

YANK: (After a pause broken only by snores — with a
bitter laugh.) Good'bye and good luck to the lot of you !

DRISCOU,: Is ut painin' you again?

YANK: It 'hurts like hell — here (He points to the lower
part of his chest on the left side.) I guess my old pump's
busted. Ooohh! (A spasm of pain contracts his pale
features. He presses his hand to his side and writhes on
the thin mattress of his bunk. The perspiration stands out
in beads on his forehead.)

DRISCOLL: (Terrified.) Yank! Yank! What is ut?
(Jumping to his feet.) I'll run for the captain. ( He starts
for the doorway.)

YANK: (Sitting up in his bunk, frantic with fear.) Uon't
leave me, Drisc ! For God's sake don't leave me alone !
(He leans over the side of his bunk and spits. Drisc oil
comes back to him.) Blood! Ugh!

DRISCOLL: Blood again! I'd best be gettin' the captain.

16

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

YANK: No, no, don't leave me! If yuh do I'll git up
and follow you. I ain't no coward but I'm scared to stay
here with all of them asleep and snorin'. (Driscoll, not
knowing what to do, sits down on the bench beside him.
He grows calmer and sinks back on the mattress.) The
captain can't do me no good, yuh know it yourself. The
pain ain't so bad now, but I thought it had me then. It
was like a buzz-saw cuttin' into me.

DRISCOU,: (Fiercely.) God blarst ut!

(The captain and the second mate of the steamer enter
the forecastle. The captain is an old man with grey mus
tache and whiskers. The mate is clean shaven and middle-
aged. Both are dressed in simple blue uniforms.)

THE CAPTAIN : (Taking out his watch and feeling Yank's
pulse.) And how is the sick man?

YANK: (Feebly.) All right, sir.

THE CAPTAIN: And the pain in the chest?

YANK: It still hurts, sir, worse than ever.

THE CAPTAIN: (Taking a thermometer from his pocket
and putting it in Yank's mouth.) Here. Be sure and keep
this in under your tongue, not over it.

THE MATE: (After a pause.) Isn't this your watch on
deck, Driscoll?

DRISCOU,: Yes, sorr, but Yank was fearin' to be alone,
and

THE CAPTAIN : That's all right, Driscoll.
DRISCOU,: Thank ye, sorr.

17

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

THE: CAPTAIN : (Stares at his watch for a moment or so;
then take si the thermometer from Yank's mouth and goes
to the lamp to read it. His expression grows very grave.
He beckons the mate and Driscoll to the corner near the
doorway. Yank watches them furtively. The captain
speaks in a low voice to the mate. ) Way up, both of them.
(To Driscoll.) Has he been spitting blood again?

DRISCOLL: Not much for the hour just past, sorr, but
before that —

THE: CAPTAIN : A great deal ?

DRISCOLL: Yes, sorr.

THE CAPTAIN: He hasn't eaten anything?

DRISCOLL: No, sorr.

THE: CAPTAIN : Did he drink that medicine I sent him ?

DRISCOLL: Yes, sorr, but it didn't stay down.

THE: CAPTAIN: (Shaking his head.) I'm- afraid — he's
very weak, il can't do anything else for him. Its too
serious for me. If this had only happened a week later
we'd be in Cardiff in time to

DRISCOLL : Plaze help him someway, sorr !

THE CAPTAIN : (Impatiently.) But, my good man, I'm
not a doctor. (More kindly as he sees Driscoll' s grief.)
You and he have been shipmates a long time?

DRISCOLL: Five years and more, Sorr.

18

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

THE CAPTAIN : I see. Well, don't let him move. Keep
him quiet and we'll hope for the best. I'll read the matter
up and send him some medicine, something to ease the
pain, anyway. (Goes over to Yank.) Keep up your
courage. You'll be better to-morrow. (He breaks down
lamely before Yanks steady gaze.) We'll pull you through
all right — and — hm — well — coming Robinson? Dammit!
(He goes out hurriedly followed by the mate.)

DRISCOLL: (Trying to conceal his anxiety.) Didn't I tell
you you wasn't half as sick as you thought you was. The
Captain'll have you on deck cursin' and swearin' loike a
trooper before the week is out.

YANK: Don't lie, Drisc. I heard what he said, and if I
didn't I c'd tell by the way I feel. I know what's goin'
to happen. I'm goin' to — (He hesitates for a second — then
resolutely.) I'm goin' to die, that's what, and the sooner
the better!

DRISCOU, : ( Wildly.) No, and be damned to you, you're
not. I'll not let you.

YANK: It ain't no use, Drisc. I ain't got a chance, but
I ain't scared. Gimme a drink of water, will yuh, Drisc?
My throat's burnin' up. (Driscoll brings the dipper full of
water and supports his head while he drinks in great gulps.)

DRiscoUv: (Seeking vainly for some word of comfort.)
Are ye feelin' more aisy loike now?

YANK: Yes — now — when I know its all up. (A pause.)
You mustn't take it so hard, Drisc. I was just thinkin' it
ain't as bad as people think — dyin'. I ain't never took

19

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

much stock in the truck them sky-pilots preach. I ain't
never had religion; but I know whatever it is what comes
after it can't be no worser'n this. I don't like to leave you,
Drisc, but— that's all.

DRISCOIX: (With a groan.) Lad, lad, don't be talkin'.

YANK: This sailor life ain't much to cry about leavin' —
just one ship after another,/ hard work, small pay, and bum
grub; and when we git into port, just a drunk endin' up in
a fight, and all your money gone, and then ship away
again. Never meetin' no nice people ; 'never gittin' outa
sailor town, hardly, in any port;/ travellin' all over the
world and never seein' none of it; without no one to care
whether you're alive or dead. (With a bitter smile.)
There ain't much in all that that'd make yuh sorry to lose
it, Drisc.

DRISCOU,: (Gloomily.) Its a hell av a life, the sea.

YANK: (Musingly.) It must be great to stay on dry
land all your life and have a farm with a house of your
own with cows and pigs and chickens, way in the middle of
the land where yuh'd never smell the sea or see a ship. It
must be great to have a wife, and kids to play with at
night after supperjwhen your work was done. It must
be great to have a home of your own, Drisc.

DRISCOU, : ( With a great sigh. ) It must, surely ; but
what's the use av thinkin' av ut. Sudh things are not for
the loikes av us.

YANK: Sea-farin' is all right when you're young and
don't care ; ]but we ain't chickens no more, and somehow, I

20

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

dunno, this last year has seemed rotten, and I've had a
hunch I'd quit — with you, of course — and we'd save our
coin, and go to Canada or Argentine or some place and git
£ farm, just a small one, just enough to live on. I never
told yuh this cause I thought you'd laugh at me.

DRISCOU,: (Enthusiastically.) Laugh at you, is ut?
When I'm havin' the same thoughts myself, toime afther
toime. Its a grand idea and we'll be doin' ut sure if you'll
stop your crazy notions — about — about bein' so sick.

YANK: (Sadly.) Too late. We shouldn't a made this
trip, and then — How'd all the fog git in here?

DRISCOLI, : Fog ?

YANK: Everything looks misty. Must be my eyes gittin'
weak, I guess. What was we talkin' of a minute ago?
Oh yes, a farm. Its too late. (His mind wandering.)
Argentine, did I say? D'yuh remember the times we've
had in Buenos Aires? The moving pictures in Barracas?
Some class to them, d'yiih remember?

DRISCOU,: (With satisfaction.) I do that; and so does
the piany player. He'll not be forgettin' the black eye I
gave him in a hurry.

YANK : Remember the time we was there on the beach and
had to go to Tommy Moore's boarding house to git s'hipped ?
And he sold us rotten oilskins and seaboots full of holes,
and shipped us on a skysail yarder round the Horn, and
took two months pay for it. And the days we used to sit
on the park benches along the Paseo Colon with the vigi-

21

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

lantes lookin' hard at us? Abd the songs at the Sailor's
Opera where the guy played ragtime — d'yuh remember
them ?

DRISCOI.IV: I do, surely.

YANK : And La Plata — phew, the stink of the hides ! I
always liked Argentine — all except that booze, cana. How
drunk we used to git on that, remember?

DRiscoUv : ... 'Cud I forget ut? My head pains me at the
menshun av that divil's brew.

YANK : Remember the night I went crazy with the heat
in Singapore? And the time you was pinched by the cops
in Port Said? And the time we was both locked up in
Sydney for fightin'?

DRISCOU,: I do so.

YANK: And that fight on the dock at Cape Town. (His
voice betrays great inward perturbation.)

DRiscoUv: (Hastily.) Don't be thinkin' av that now.
T'is past and gone.

YANK: D'yuh think He'll hold it up against me?
(Mystified.) Who's that?

YANK: God. They say He sees everything. He must
know it was done in fair fight, in self-defense, don't yuh
think?

DRISCOU,: Av course. Ye stabbed him, and be damned
to him, for the skulkin' swine he was, afther him tryin' to

22

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

stick you in the back, and you not suspectin'. Let your
conscience be aisy. I wisht I had nothin' blacker than that
on my sowl. I'd not be afraid av the angel Gabriel him
self.

YANK: (With a shudder.) I c'd see him a minute ago
with the blood spurtin' out of his neck. Ugh !

The fever, ut is, that makes you see such
things. Give no heed to ut.

YANK: (Uncertainly.) You don't think He'll hold it up
agin me — God, I mean.

DRISCOLI,: If there's justice in hiven, no! (Yank seems
comforted by this assurance.)

YANK: (After a pause.) We won't reach Cardiff for a
week at least. I'll be buried at sea.

DRISCOLL: (Putting his hands over his ears.} Ssshh!
I won't listen to you.

YANK: (As if he had not heard him.) Its as good a
place as any other, I s'pose — only I always wanted to be
buried on dry land. But what the hell'll I care— then?
(Fretfully.) Why should it be a rotten night like this with
that damned whistle blowin' and people snorin' all around?
I wish the stars was out, and the moon, too ; I c'd lie out on
deck and look at them, and it'd make it easier to go —
somehow.

DRISCOLI, : For the love av God don't be talkin' loike that !
YANK: Whatever pay's comin' to me yuh can divvy up

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

with the rest of the boys ; and you take my watch. It ain't
worth much but its all I've got.

DRISCOLL: But have ye no relations at all to call your
own?

YANK : No, not as I know of. One thing I forgot : You
know Fanny the barmaid at the Red Stork in Cardiff?

DRISCOU,: Sure and who doesn't?

YANK : She's been good to me. She tried to lend me half
a crown when I was broke there last trip. Buy her the
biggest box of candy yuh c'n find in Cardiff. (Breaking
down — in a choking voice.} Its hard to ship on this voy
age I'm goin' on — alone! (Driscoll reaches out and grasps
his hand. — There is a pause during which both fight to
control themselves.) My throat's like a furnace. (He
gasps for air.) Gimme a drink of water, will yuh, Drisc?
(Driscoll gets him a dipper of water.) I wish this was a
pint of beer. Oooohh! (He chokes, his face convulsed
with agony, his hands tearing at his shirt front. The dipper
falls from his nerveless fingers.)

DRISCOLL : For the love av God, what is ut, Yank ?

YANK: (Speaking with tremendous difficulty.) S'long
Drisc! (He stares straight in front of him with eyes
starting from their /sockets.) Who's that?

DRISCOLL : Who ? What ?

YANK: (Faintly.) A pretty lady dressed in black. (His
face twitches and his body writhes in a final spasm, then
straightens out rigidly.)

24

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DRiscou,: (Pale with horror.) Yank! Yank! Say a
word to me for the love av hiven ! ( He shrinks away from
the bunk, making the sign of the cross. Then comes back
and puts a trembling hand on Yank's chest and bends
closely over the body.)

Cocky's voice (from the alleyway.) Oh Driscoll! Can
you leave Yank for arf a mo and give me a 'and?

DRISCOU,: (With a great sob.) Yank. (He sinks down
on his knees beside the bunk, his head on his hands. His
lips move in some half -remembered prayer.)

COCKY: (Enters, his oilskins and sou'wester glistening
with drops of water.) The fog's lifted. (Cocky sees
Driscoll and stands staring at him with open mouth. Dris
coll makes the sign of the cross again.)

COCKY: (Mockingly.) Sayin' 'is prayers! (He catches
sight of the still figure in the bunk and an expression of
awed understanding comes over his face. He takes off his
dripping sou'wester and stands scratching his head.)

COCKY: (In a hushed whisper.) Gawd blimey.

CURTAIN.

25

THE GAME

A Morality Play
By Louise Bryant

The Game

BY LOUISE BRYANT

As Produced at the Playwrights' Theatre
New York City

LIFE KATHLEEN CANNELL

DEATH . . ^ * . JOHN REED

YOUTH . . . . WIUJAM ZORACH
THE GIRL . . MARTHA RYTHER-FULI.ER

The Game is an attempt to synthesize decoration, cos
tume, speech and action into one mood. Starting from the
idea that the play is symbolic of rather than representative
of life, the Zorachs have designed the decorations to sug
gest rather than to portray; the speech and action of the
players being used as the plastic element in the whole unified
convention.

As the gestures and decorations of this play are as im
portant as the written speech it is essential that theatres
wishing to produce The Game should send for photographs
and directions.

The illustration on the cover of this book is from a wood
cut by Marguerite Zorach suggested by the setting and
action of The Game.

Staged and Decorated by Marguerite
and William Zorach

Copyrighted by the Author. All rights reserved.

28

The Game

AT THE RISE Death is lying on the ground at left, idly
flipping dice. Now and then he glances sardonically at
Life who is standing at the extreme right and counting
aloud.

(Counting abstractly.) Fifty thousand, fifty-one,
sixty-five, ninety — She goes on through the next speech.

DEATH : Come come, Life, forget your losses. It's no fun
playing- with a dull partner. I had hoped for a good game
to-night, although there is little in it for me — just a couple
of suicides.

UFE: (With a gesture of anxiety.) My dear Death, I
wish you would grant me a favor.

DEATH: (Grumbling.) A favor. A favor. Now isn't
that just like a woman? I never saw one yet who was
willing to abide by the results of a fair game.

UFE: (Earnestly.) But I want these two, whether I
win or lose. I really must have them. They are geniuses
— and you know how badly I am in need of geniuses right
now. Ungrateful spoiled children ! They always want to
commit suicide over their first disappointments.

DEATH: (Impatiently.) How many times must I tell
you that the game must be played ! It's the law — you
know it as well as I do.

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

LIFE: (Shrugging.) O, the law! Laws are always in
your favor, Death!

DEATH : There you are. I always said the universe would
be in a wild state of disorder if the women had any say !
No, you must play the game.

LIFE: (Indignantly.) Whoever said anything about not
playing? All I want is your consent to let them meet here
before the game begins.

DEATH : I'll bet this isn't so innocent as it sounds. Who
are they? I haven't paid much attention to the case.

LIFE: Youth and The Girl. He is a Poet, and she a
Dancer.

DEATH: A strong man and a beautiful woman. (He
laughs, ironically.) Up to the same old tricks, eh? You
sly thing, you think if they meet they'll fall in love and
cheat me ! (Pause.) Well, suppose I consent. What will
you give?

(Quickly.) I'll give you Kaiser Wilhelm, The
Czar of Russia, George of England and old Francis Joseph
— that's two to one!

DEATH : Now that's dishonest. You're always trying to
unload a lot of monarchs on me when you know I don't
want them. Why, when you play for them you almost go
to sleep and I always win. No bargaining in kings, my
dear.

LIFE: I'll give you a whole regiment of soldiers.

so

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DEATH: (With scorn.) Soldiers! What do you care
a'bout soldiers? Look at your figures again. You've been
losing millions of soldiers in Europe for the past two years
— and you're much more excited about these two rattle-
pated young idiots. Your idea of a fair trade is to get
something for nothing. You love too much. With such
covetness how can you ever know the thrill of chance?

LIFE: (Pleading.) O I'll give you anything. (Enter
Youth, with hanging melancholy head.)

DEATH: (Sshh! Too late! Here's one of them.)

LIFE: (Turning.) Youth! (To Death.) You've tricked
me. You were only playing for time.

DEATH : Come, sister. Be game. All's fair in every
thing but the dice. And just think. If you win this cast
the other is half won. They'll meet then . . .

YOUTH: (Seeing the two and starting.) (To Life.)
Who are you?

UFE: (Anxiously.) I am Life!

YOUTH: (Bitterly.) O, I am through with you. . . .
I want none of you!

(Turning his back and addressing Death.): And who
are you?

DEATH: (Rising, with cheerful Complacency.) I am
Death !

YOUTH: (Taken aback.) Death! How different from
my dream of you. I thought you were sombre, austere;

31

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

and instead, you're — if I may say so — just a trifle common
place.

DEATH : I'm not as young as I once was. One's figure,
you know —

UFE: (Delightedly.) Ah!

DEATH: Look at her. A pleasing exterior, eh? And
yet you wouldn't be seeking me if you didn't know better.
Alas, my boy, beauty is not even skin deep.

YOUTH: That is true. (Going to Death.) Ah, Death,
1 have been seeking you for weeks.

DEATH : Yet I am always present. Where did you seek
me?

YOUTH : (Excitedly, with gestures.) I tried poison, but
just as I was about to swallow it they snatched it from me.
... I tried to shoot myself. They cheated me; the pistol
wouldn't go off.

DEATH : Well-meaning idiots !

YOUTH : So I came here to leap into the sea !

DEATH : Very good. Only hurry. Some one might
come.

UFE: Why do you wish to die?

YOUTH: (Hotly.) As if you didn't know. Did you not
give me the power to string beautiful words into songs —
did you not give me Love to sing to and take Love away?
T cannot sing any more ! And yet you ask me why I want

32

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

to die! I am not a slave! Slaves live just to eat and be
clothed — you have plenty of them !

UFE: (Sadly.) Yes, I have plenty of them.

YOUTH : If I cannot have love to warm me, I cannot
create 'beauty. And if I cannot create beauty, I will not
live!

LIFE: Are you sure it was Love? I think it was only
Desire I gave you ; You did not seem ready for Love.

YOUTH: (Passionately.) Falsehoods. Evasions. What
is Love, then? You gave me a girl who sold flowers on
the street. She had hair like gold and a body all curves
and rose-white like marble. I sang my songs for her, and
the whole world listened. Then an ugly beast came and
offered her gold . . . and she laughed at me — and went
away.

DEATH : (Laughing indulgently.) That is Love, my boy.
You are lucky to find it out so young.

LIFE: Now I know it was desire.

YOUTH: (To Death.) Why will she persist in lying?

DEATH: (Gallantly.) I am a sport and a gentleman and
1 must admit that Life is as truthful as I am.

LIFE: Listen, Youth, and answer me. Did your sweet
heart understand your songs?

YOUTH: Why should she? Women do not have to
understand. They must be fragrant and beautiful — like

flowers.

33

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

LIFE: And is that all?

YOUTH: (Slightly confused.) I do not know many
women.

LIFE : I will s'how you one who understands your songs.
She is coming here.

DEATH : (Harshly.) To leap into the sea, like you!
LIFE : Because she is lonely — waiting for you.
YOUTH : For me ! But I do not know her !
LIFE: But she knows you — through your songs. . .

DEATH: (Scornfully.) And you have been seeking me
for weeks ! Are you to be fooled again by this tricky
charlatan? You who have had enough of Life? There
is no place for cowards among the lofty dead !

YOUTH: O Death, forgive me! Life, farewell! (He
stretches out his arms and turns towards the cliff.)

: (Crying out.) Hold ! We must play first. (Youth
stands as he is, with outstretched arms as they play.)

DEATH: (Jovially.) So now it is you who are asking
me to play ! Come, Life do me a favor. Give me this one
and the girl shall be yours!

LIFE: (Excitedly.) No. The game must be played. It
is the law! (Death laughs. — They go to centre stage and
throw the dice. Death frowns and grumbles.)

LIFE: (Rising with a happy smile.) I have won!

34

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

YOUTH : (Dropping his arms and turning slowly. Sadly.)
Then I am to live — in spite of myself. Death, I have lost
you. Life, I hate you. Without Love you are crueller
than Death.

LIFE: Soon the Girl will be here. Then you will think
me beautiful.

DEATH : That's the comedy of it. You probably will,
you know.

YOUTH: (With a gesture of revulsion.) Promises.
Promises. Love comes but once — (He breaks off and
stares as the Girl rushes in. She almost runs into Life,
then suddenly recoils.)

GIRL : Who are you ?
LIFE: I am Life.

GIRL : O, Life dear, I must leave you ! I cannot bear you
any longer. You are so white and so cold !

LIFE: What have you to complain of? Have I not given
you Fame, and Worship and Wealth?

GIRL: What are all these .... without Love?

DEATH: (With a smile.) What — you without Love?
How about those who stand at the stage door every evening
— and send you flowers and jewels? One of them shot
himself because you stamped on hfs flowers. Believe me,
my dear, that is all the Love there is —

GIRL: Love? No. That was Desire!

35

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DEATH : Bah ! Desire when they seek you — Love when
you seek them.

GIRL: No, No. Love understands. They didn't. They
wanted to buy me in order to destroy me. That is why I
stamped on their flowers.

DEATH: (Humorously.) Ah, the young. Incurably sen
timental.

YOUTH: (Impetuously.) Good. I'm glad you did.
GIRI,: (Startled.) W'hy, who are you?
YOUTH : I am Youth.

GIRL: (Drawing back.) Youth, the Poet? You? O I
know all your songs by heart. I have kissed every line.
Always, when I dance, I try to dance them. (Looking
around fearfully.) But why are you here?

DEATH: (Grimly.) He came to throw himself into the
sea!

GIRL: (Alarmed. Clutching him by the arm.) Oh, no.
You must not. What would the poor world do without
your beautiful songs?

LIFE : Do not be afraid, my dear, I have won.

YOUTH: (Sighing.) Alas!

GIRL: Why did you want to die?

DEATH: (Slyly.) His sweetheart left him.

GIRL: (Drawing back coldly.) His sweetheart! So he

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

loves someone! I don't believe you. How could any
woman he loved. . . . When he sings so sweetly —

His songs meant nothing to her.

GIRL: Nothing! (Going to Youth.) O then she was not
worth your love. She was like the men who wait for me
at the stage-door; she wanted to destroy you.

DEATH: Such is Life, my dear young lady, Love is the
destroyer always.

YOUTH: (Bitterly.) You are right. It is all a myth —
Life, Love, Happiness. I must idealize someone, some
thing — and then the 'bubble bursts and I am alone. No.
If she could not understand, no one could understand.

GIRL: (Eagerly.)' O how wrong you are! / under
stand. Don't you believe me? I have danced all you have
sung. Do you remember "The Bird Calls?"

(She dances.) (Youth watches with astonishment and
growing delight.)

YOUTH : How beautiful ! You do understand — you do —
Wings flash and soar when you dance ! You skim the sea
gloriously, lifting your quivering feathery breast against
the sunny wind. Dance again for me. Dance my "Cloud
Flight!"

GIRL: The loveliest of all! (Remembering sadly.) But
I can never dance for you anymore. I came here to die !

DEATH : And you'd forgotten it already ! O you're all
alike, you suicides. Life's shallowest little deceit fools you
again — though you have seen through her and know her
for what she is.

37

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GIRL: (Hesitating.) But I have found Youth.

YOUTH: (Swiftly.) Yes, and Youth has found Love —
real Love at last. Love that burns like fire and flowers
like the trees. You shall not die. (To Death.) And I
will fight you for her ! Love is stronger than Death !

DEATH : Than Life, you mean. Think of the great lovers
of the world — Paola and Francesca, Romeo and Juliet,
Tristan and Isolde. I, I claimed them all. Who are you
to set yourself up against such august precedents ? (To the
Girl.) You think he loves you. It is not you he loves, but
your dancing of his songs. He is a Poet — therefore he
loves only himself. And his sweet-heart, for lack of whom
he was going to die. See ! He has already forgotten her !
(Slowly.) As you will one day be forgotten.

: ( To Girl.) Why ask too much of me ? I can only
give happiness for a moment — but it is real happiness —
Love, Creation, Unity with the tremendous rhythm of the
universe. I can't promise it will endure. I won't say you
will not some day be forgotten. Wrhat if it is himself he
loves in you? That, too, is Love.

GIRL : To be supremely happy for a moment — an hour —
that is worth living for!

DEATH : Life offers you many things — I but one. She
pours out the sunshine before you to make you glad; she
sends the winter to chill your heart. She gives you Love
and Desire — and takes them away. She brings you warm
quietness — and kills it with hunger and anxiety. Life
offers you many things — I but one. Come closer, tired

3S

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

heart, and hold out your weary hands. See! What a
pearl I offer — to kings and beggars alike. Come — I will
give you peace!

GIRL: (Spurning him.) Peace? Do you think I want
peace — I, a dancer, a child of the whirling winds? Do
you think I would be blind to the sunlight, deaf to Youth's
music — to my sweet applause, dumb to laughter? All this
jcy that is in me — scattered in darkness? Dust in my hair
— in my eyes — on my dancing feet? (Hesitating.) And
yet — and yet Life is so cruel!

YOUTH: (Going to her.) My dearest. We will never
leave one another.

LIFE; : She is mine !

DEATH : (Sardonically.) Haven't you forgotten some
thing? The game!

LIFE: It is half-won. She too has found love.

DEATH : Ah ! But in willing to die she laid her life on
the knees of the Fates. So we must play for her. It is
the law.

LIFE : O I am not afraid to play. This time I have you,
Death.

DEATH: Have me! Ho, Ho. Nay, Life. I am cleverer
than you. On this game hangs the doom of both !

: (Astonished.) Of both? Furiously. You lie,
Death! I have already won Youth, he cannot die.

39

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

DEATH : (Laughing.) Ho. Ho. Youth cannot die, you
say. True. But the Girl dies if I win; isn't that so?

(Life nods.) Well, and if she dies, what then ? He loves
her, yet he cannot follow. Nay, he shall live — forever
mute, forever regretting his lost love, until you yourself
will beg me to take him!

(Falling on her knees.) O Death, I beg of you —
DEATH : Ho. Ho. Life on her knees to Death. No,
sister. I couldn't help you if I would. It is the law. Let
us play.

LIFE: (Resigned.) It is the law. (They go to the
center of stage and play.) (Joyously.) O I have won
again !

DEATH: (Blackly.) (Hurling the dice to the ground.)
Yes, curse the luck! But some day we'll play for those
two again — and then it will be my turn.

YOUTH : Yes. But we will have lived. Until then,
Death, you are Powerless. I fear you not, and I will guard
her from you.

DEATH: (Shrugging.) -Geniuses! Geniuses!

GIRL: (To Youth.) How brave — how strong — how
beautiful is my lover! (They go off stage with their arms
about each other.)

DEATH : Well, it was a good game after all. You see,
that's the difference between you and me ; you play to win,
and I play for the fun of the thing. (He laughs.) But

40

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

tell me, Life ; why is it you make such a fuss over dreamers
and care so little for soldiers?

LIFE: O, soldiers don't matter one way or the other to
me; but some day the dreamers will chain you to the earth,
and I will have the game all my way.

DEATH : That remains to 'be seen. But how about kings ?

LIFE: Kings are my enemies. Do you remember how
careless I was during the French Revolution? I've always
had it on my conscience, and I think I'd feel better if I
told you; whenever I threw a good combination, I — juggled
the dice !

DEATH: (Nodding.) I'm not surprised. Heavens, aren't
women unscrupulous ! AJnd yet they call me unfair. . . .
Well, I suppose I've got to keep an eye on you.

LIFE: I warn you I will stop at nothing. By the way,
what's the game to-morrow night?

DEATH : A Plague. And in that game, I regret to say
you haven't a chance in the world.

LIFE: Don't forget I have Science to help me.

DEATH : Science, Bah ! A fool's toy ! I sweep them all
together in my net — the men of learning and the ones they
try to cure.

LIFE: But remember that the sun, the blessed healing
sun still rises every morning.

DEATH: (Irritated.) Oh, don't remind me of the sun!
(He goes.)

41

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

(Beginning to count her losses again.) Two hun
dred thousand, seventy-five, three hundred and ten. (Look
ing up.) I must never let him know how much I mind
losing soldiers. They are the flower of youth — there are
dreamers among them. . . .

CURTAIN.

42

KING ARTHUR'S SOCKS

A Comedy in One Act
By Floyd Dell

King Arthur's Socks

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT

BY FLOYD DELL

As Produced at the Playwrights' Theatre
New York City

GUENEVERE ROBINSON . , . . EDNA JAMES

VIVIEN SMITH . ... , . JANE BURR

MARY . . . . . AUGUSTA GARY

LANCELOT JONES . . . - . MAX EASTMAN

TIME: 1916.

PLACE: A summer cottage in Camelot, Maine.

Staged by Edward J. Ballantine

44

King Arthur's Socks

: The living room of a summer cottage at Came-
lot, Maine. A pretty lady of between twenty-five and
thirty-five is sitting in a big chair in the lamplight, darning
socks. She is Mrs. Arthur Robinson, or, to give her her
own name, Guenevere. She is dressed in a light summer
frock, and with her feet elevated on a settle, there is re
vealed a glimpse of slender, silk-clad ankles. It is a plea
sant summer evening, and one might wonder why so at
tractive a woman should be sitting at home darning her
husband's socks, there being so many other interesting
things to do in this world. The girl standing in the door
way, smiling amusedly, seems to wonder at it too. The
girl's name is Vivien Smith.

VIVIEN : Hello, Owen !

GUENEVERE: Hello, Vivien! Come in.

VIVIEN : I'm just passing by.

GUENEVERE: Come in and console me for a minute or
two, anyway. I'm a widow at present.

VIVIEN : Arthur gone to New York again ?

(She enters, and lounges against the mantelpiece.)

GUENEVERE: Yes, for over Sunday. And I'm lonely.

VIVIEN : You don't seem to mind. Think of a woman
being that happy darning her husband's socks!

45

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEvERE: Stay and talk to me — unless you've some
thing else on. It's been ages since I've seen you.

VIVIEN : I'm afraid I have got something else on, Gwen.
— I'll give you one guess.

GUENEvERE : You can't pretend to be arting at this hour
of the night.

VIVIEN : I can pretend, but I won't. No ; it's not the
pursuit of art, it's the pursuit of a man, Gwen dear.

GUENEvERE : Oh ! Well, don't try to talk like a person in
a Shaw play. I don't like this rigmarole about "pursuit."
Say you're in love, like a civilized human being, and take
a cigarette and tell me about it.

VIVIEN: (Lighting the cigarette.) I don't know whether
it's so civilized, at that. You know me, Gwen. When I
paint, do I paint like a lady — or like a savage?

GUENEvERE: Have it your own way. But don't tell me
you're going in for any of this free-love stuff, because I
won't believe it. You're not that kind of a fool, Vivien.

(She darns placidly away.)

VIVIEN : No, I'm not. I'm not a fool at all, Gwen dear.
I know exactly what I want, and it doesn't include being
disowned by my family and having my picture in the
morning papers. Free love? Not at all. I want to be
married.

GUENEvERE: Well, for heaven's sake, who is it?

46

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

VIVIEN: Is it possible that it's not being gossiped about?
You really haven't heard?

GUENEVERE : Not a syllable.
VIVIEN : Then I shan't tell you.
GUENEvERE : But — why?

VIVIEN : Because you'll think I've a nerve to want him.
GUENEvERE: Nonsense. I don't know any male person
in these parts who is good enough for you, Vivien.

VIVIEN: Thanks, darling. That's just what I think in
my calmer moments. But mostly I'm so crazy about him
that I'm almost humble. Can you imagine it?

GUENEvERE: Well, what's the matter, then? Doesn't he
reciprocate? You don't look like the victim of a hopeless
passion.

VIVIEN: Oh, he's in love with me, all right. But he
doesn't approve of being. He thinks it interferes with his
work.

GUENEvERE : What nonsense !

VIVIEN : I don't know about that. But I don't care if it
does interfere with his work.

GUENEVERE: / don't interfere with Arthur's work.

VIVIEN: Arthur's a professor of philosophy. Besides,
Arthur was somebody before he met you. I'm dealing with
a man who's still on the make. He thinks if he had three

47

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

years to dig at it, without me around to distract him, he'd
put something big across. — I shouldn't be at all surprised.

GUENEVERE: Well, why don't you give him his three
years ?

VIVIEN : Gwen ! What do you think I am ? An altruist ?
A benefactor of humanity? Well, I'm not, I'm a woman.
Three years? I've given him three days, and threatened
to marry a man back at home if he doesn't make up his
mind before then.

GUENEVERE: Heavens, Vivien, you are a savage! Well,
did it work?

VIVIEN : Not a bit. He's a man of principle. He's bought
a ticket for Boston, and he's packing to-night to start in
the morning. Says he won't be bullied.

GUENEVERE: But Vivien!

VIVIEN: Oh, don't condole with me, Gwen dear. It's
twelve hours before that morning train, and I'm not through
with him yet.

GUENEVERE: (Curiously.) What are you going to do?

VIVIEN : Nothing crude, Gwen dear. Oh, there's lots of
things I can do. Cry, for instance. He's never seen a
woman cry. — Maybe you think I can't cry ?

GUENEVERE: I've never seen you do it. It's hard to
imagine you crying.

VIVIEN : I never wanted anything badly enough to cry
for it before. But I could cry my heart out for him. I've

48

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

absolutely no pride left. — Well, I'm going to have him,
that's all. (She throws her cigarette into the grate, and
starts to go.)

GUENEvERE: And what a'bout his work? Suppose it's
true

VIVIEN : Suppose it is. Then his work will have to get
along the best way it can.

(At the door.) Do I look like a loser? — or a winner !

GUENEvERE: I'll bet on you, Vivien.

VIVIEN : Thanks, darling. — And bye-bye. I'm going to
Lance's studio. — There! I told you! It's Lancelot Jones,
of course. Well, I don't care. — Wish me luck!

(She goes.)
f

GUENEvERE: Lancelot Jones! (She sits still a moment,
then resumes the darning of socks. Enter, from the side
door, Mary, the pretty servant girl, who fusses about at the
back of the room.)

GUENEVERE: (Absently.) Going, Mary?

MARY : No, ma'am. I didn't feel like going out to-night.
(Something in her tone makes Guenevere turn.)

GUENEVERE: (Kindly.) Why, Mary! What is the
matter ?

MARY: (Struggling with her sobs.) I'm sorry, ma'am,
I can't help it. I wasn't going to say anything. But when
you spoke to me

GUENEVERE: (Quietly.) What is it, Mary?

49

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

MARY: I'm a wicked girl.
(She sobs again.)

GUENEVERE: (After a moment's reflection.) Yes? Tell
me about it.

MARY : Shall I tell you ?

GUENEVERE : Yes. I think you'd better tell me.

MARY: I wanted to tell you. (She comes to Guenevere
and sinks beside her chair.) I wanted to tell you before
Mr. Robinson came back? I couldn't tell you if he was
here.

: (Smiling.) My husband? Are you afraid
of him, Mary?

MARY: Yes, ma'am.

GUENEVERE: (To herself.) Poor Arthur! He does
frighten people. He looks so — just.

MARY: That's what it is, ma'am. He always makes me
think of my father.

GUENEVERE: Is your father a just man too, Mary?

MARY: Yes, ma'am. He's that just I'd never dare breathe
a word to him about what I've done. He'd put me out of
the house.

GUENEVERE: (Hesitating.) Is it so bad, Mary, what
you have done?

MARY: Yes ma'am.

50

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEVERE : Do you — do you want to tell me who it is ?
MARY: It's Mr. Jones, ma'am.

GUENEvERE: (Reflectively.) Jones?
( Astoundedly. ) Jones !
(Incredulously.) You don't mean —
(Quietly.) Do you mean Mr. Lancelot Jones?

MARY: Yes ma'am.

GUENEvERE: This is terrible! When did it happen?

MARY : It — it sort of happened last night, ma'am — It was
this way

GUENEvERE: No details, please!

MARY: No ma'am. I just wanted to tell you how it was.
You see, ma'am, I went to his studio

GUENEvERE: (Protesting.) Please, Mary, please!
MARY: Yes ma'am.

GUENEVERE: I don't mean that I blame you. One can't
help falling in love.

MARY: No, you can't, can you?

GUENEvERE: But Lancelot — Mr. Jones — should have be
haved better than that.

MARY: Should he, ma'am?

GUENEVERE: He certainly should. I wouldn't have
thought it of him. So that is why Mary! Do you

51

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

know ? I don't know that I ought to tell you.

Still, I don't know why I should protect him. Do you
know that he is going away?

MARY: No ma'am. Is he?

GUENEvERE : Yes. In the morning. You must go to his
studio to-night. No, you can't do that. . . . Oh, this is
terrible !

MARY : I'd glad he's going away, Mrs. Robinson.

GUENEvERE : Are you ?

MARY: Yes ma'am.

GUENEvERE ; Why ?

MARY : Because I'd be so ashamed every time I saw him.

GUENEvERE: (Looking at her with interest.) Really?
I didn't know people felt that way. Perhaps it's the right
way to feel. But I didn't suppose anybody did. So you
want him to go?

MARY: Yes ma'am.

GUENEvERE : And you don't feel you've any claim on him ?

MARY: No ma'am. Why should I?

GUENEVRE: Well! I don't know. But one is supposed
tc, Mary, you are a modern woman!

MARY: Am I?

GUENEVERE : I should think, after what happened

52

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

MARY: That's just it, ma'am. If it had been anything

else 'But after what happened I just wan't never to see

him again. You see, ma'am, it was this way

GUENEVERE: (Gently.) Is it necessary to tell me that,
Mary? I know what happened.

MARY: But you don't, ma'am. That's just it. I've been
trying to tell you what happened, ma'am.

GUENEVERE: Good heavens, was it so horrible! Well,
go on, then. What did happen?

MARY: Nothing, ma'am.

GUENEvERE: Nothing?

MARY: That's just it.

GUENEVERE: But I — I don't understand.

MARY: You said a while ago, Mrs. Robinson, that you
can't help being in love. It's true. I tried every way to

stop being, but I couldn't. 'So last night I 1 went to

his studio

GUENEVERE : Yes ?

MARY: I told you I was a wicked girl, Mrs. Robinson.
You know I've a key to let myself in to clean up for him.
So last night I just went in. He he was asleep

GUENEVERE : Yes ?

MARY: I Shall I tell you, ma'am?

GUENEVERE: Yes. You must tell me, now.

53

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

MARY: And I (She sits kneeling, looking straight

ahead, and continues in a dead voice.) I couldn't help it.
I put my arms around him.

GUENEVERE: Yes?

MARY: And he put his arms around me, Mrs. Robinson,
and kissed me. I didn't care for anything then. I was
glad. And then

GUENEVERE : Yes ?

MARY : And then he woke up, and was angry at me. He
swore at me. And then he laughed, and kissed me again,
and put me out of the room.

GUENEVERE: Yes, yes. And that that was all?

MARY: I came home. I thought I would have died. I

knew I had been wicked. Oh, Mrs. Rob

(She breaks down and sobs).

GUENEVERE: (Patting her head.) Poor child, it's all
right. You aren't so wicked as you think. Oh, I'm so
glad!

MARY: But it's just the same, Mrs. Robinson. I wanted
to be wicked.

GUENEVERE: Never mind, Mary. We all want to be
wicked at times. But something always happens. It's ail
right. You're a good girl, Mary. There, stop crying ! . . .

Of course, of course ! I might have known. Lancelot

we're too civilized. . . . Stand up and let me look at you !

MARY: (Obeying.) Yes ma'am.

54

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GuENEvERE: (In a curious tone.) You're a very good-
looking girl, Mary ... So he laughed, and gave you a
kiss, and led you to the door. . . . Well! Go to bed and
think no more about it. It's all right.

MARY: Do you really think so, Mrs. Robinson? Isn't it
the same thing if you want to be wicked

GUENEVERE : You're talking like my husband now, Mary.

It's only a professor of philosophy who No, it's not the.

same thing, as every woman knows. Run along, child.

MARY: Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am. Good night,
ma'am. (She goes.)

GUENEvERE: Good night, Mary. (She returns to her
darning. She smiles to herself, then becomes serious, stops
zvork, and looks at the clock. Then she says) — Vivien!
Vivien's tears ! Well !

(She shrugs her shoulders, goes on working; then puts
down her work, rises, and walks restlessly about the room.
Presently a knock at the door. She turns suddenly. The
knock is repeated. She is silent, motionless, for a moment.
Then she says, almost in a whisper) — Come! (Enter a
young man.) Lancelot!

LANCELOT : Guenevere !

( They go up to each other, and he takes both her hands.
They stand that way for a moment. Then he says lightly)
Darning King Arthur's socks, I see!

GUENEvERE: (Releasing herself and going back to her
chair.) Yes. Sit down.

LANCELOT: Where's his royal highness?

55

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEvERE: New York. Why don't you ever come to
see us?

LANCELOT: (Not answering.) Charming domestic pic
ture!

GUENEvERE : Don't be silly.
LANCELOT: I'm going away.

GUENEVERE: Are you? I'm sorry. Don't you like our
little village?

LANCELOT: Thought I'd stop in to say good-bye.

GUENEvERE: That's very sweet of you.

LANCELOT: (Rising.) I've got to go back and pack up,

GUENEVERE: Not really.

LANCELOT: Going in the morning.

GUENEvERE : Why this haste ? The summer's just begun.
I hear you've been doing some awfully good things. I
was going over to see them.

LANCELOT : Thanks. Sorry to disappoint you. But I've
taken it into my head to leave.

GUENEVERE: You're not going to-night, anyway. Sit
down and talk to me.

LANCELOT: All right. (He sits.) What shall I talk
about ?

GUENEvERE: Your work.

LANCELOT: You're not interested in my work.

GUENEvERE: Your love-affairs, then.

56

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

Don't want to.

GUENEVERE : Then read to me. There's some books on
the table.

LANCELOT: (Opening a serious-looking magazine.) "The
Concept of Happiness : By Professor Arthur B. Robinson."
Shall I read that?

GUENEVERE: I gather that you are not as fond of my
husband as I am, Lancelot. But try to be nice to me, any
way. Read some poetry.

LANCELOT: (Reading from a book on the table.)
"It needs no maxims drawn from Socrates
To tell me this is madness in my blood "

(He pauses. She looks up inquiringly. Presently he goes

on reading) :

"Nor does what wisdom I have learned from these

Serve to abate my most unreasoned mood.

What would I of you ? What gift could you bring,

That to await you in the common street

Sets all my secret ecstasy a-wing

Into wild regions of sublime retreat.

And if you come, you will speak common words" — —

(He stops, and flings the book across the room. She looks

up).

GUENEVERE: Don't you like it?

LANCELOT: Hell!

GUENEVERE: Try something else.

LANCELOT: No, I can't read. (Guenevere bends to her
darning.) Shall I go?

57

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEVERE: No.

LANCELOT: Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?

GUENEVERE : Does talking to me make you suffer ?

LANCELOT: Yes.

GUENEVERE: I'm sorry.

LANCELOT : Then let me go.

GUENEVERE : No. Sit there and talk to me, like a rational
human being.

LANCELOT : I'm not a rational human being. I'm a fool.
A. crazy fool.

GUENEVERE: (Smiling at him.) I like crazy fools.

LANCELOT: (Desperately, rising as he speaks.) I am
^oing to be married.

GUENEVERE: Really!

LANCELOT: To-morrow — in Boston — to Vivien.

GUENEVERE: I congratulate you.

LANCELOT: I am in love with her.

GUENEVERE: Naturally.

LANCELOT : She is in love with me.

GUENEVERE: I trust so.

LANCELOT : Then why in the name of God should I be at
;his moment aching to kiss you? Tell me that!

GUENEVERE: (Looking at him.) It does seem strange.
LANCELOT: It is absolutely insane.

58

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEvERE : Are you quite sure it's all true ?

LANCELOT : I'm sure that I never would commit the rash
ness of matrimony without being in love — very much ii
love. And I'm sure I would not stand here and tell yot
what a fool I am about you, if that weren't true. Do yot

think I want to be this way? It's too preposterous.

didn't want to tell you. I wanted to go. You made m<
stay. Well, now you know what a blithering lunatic I am

GUENEvERE: It is lunacy, isn't it?
LANCELOT: It is.

GUENEvERE : Sheer lunacy. In love with one woman, anc
wanting to kiss another. Disgraceful, in fact.

LANCELOT : I know what you think. You think that I'rr
paying you an extremely silly and caddish compliment—
or else

GUENEVERE: (Earnestly — rising). No, I don't. I be
lieve you when you say that about me. And I don'1
imagine for one moment that you're not in love with Vivien.
I know you are. I could pretend to myself that you
weren't — just as you've tried to pretend to yourself that
I'm not really in love with Arthur. But you know I am.
Don't you?

LANCELOT : Yes.

GUENEVERE : Well, Lancelot, there are — two lunatics here.
(He stares at her.) It's almost funny. I don't know why
I'm telling you. But

LANCELOT : You — !

59

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEVERE : Yes. I want to kiss you, too.

LANCELOT: But this won't do. As long as there was
only one of us

GUENEVERE: There's been two all along, Lancelot. I've
more self-control than you — that's all. But I broke down
to-night. I knew I oughtn't to tell you — now. But I knew
1 would.

LANCELOT : You, too ! ( They have circled about to the
opposite side of the room).

GUENEvERE: Oh, well, Lance, I fancy we aren't the only
ones. It's a common human failing, no doubt. Lots of
people must feel this way.

LANCELOT: What do they do about it?

GUENEvERE : Well, it all depends on what kind of people
they are. Some of them go ahead and kiss. Others think
of the consequences.

LANCELOT: Well, let's think of the consequences, then.
What are they? I forget.

GUENEvERE: I don't. I'm keeping them very clearly in
mind. In the first place

LANCELOT: (Attentively.) Yes?

GUENEvERE: What was it? Yes. In the first place, we
would be sorry. And in the second place

LANCELOT: In the second place

GUENEVERE: In the second place 1 forget what is in

the second place. And in the third place we mustn't. Isn't
that enough?

60

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

LANCELOT: Yes. I know we mustn't. But — I feel that
we are going to.

GUENEVERE : Please don't say that.

LANCELOT: But isn't it true? Don't you feel that, too?

GUENEVERE : Yes.

LANCELOT: Then we're lost.

GUENEVERE: No. We must think!

LANCELOT : I can't think.

GUENEVERE : Try.

LANCELOT : It's no use. I can't even remember "in the
first place" now.

GUENEVERE: Then, before we do remember. . . . (He
takes her in his arms. They kiss each other — a long, long
long kiss.)

LANCELOT : Sweetheart !

GUENEVERE: (Holding him at arm's length.) That was
in the second place, Lancelot. If we kiss each other, we'll
begin saying things like that — and perhaps believing them.

LANCELOT: What did I say?
GUENEVERE: Something foolish.
LANCELOT : What, darling ?

GUENEVERE: There, you did it again. Stop, or I shall
be doing it, too. I want to, you know.

LANCELOT: Want what?

61

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEVERE: To call you sweetheart, and believe I'm in
love with you.

LANCELOT: Aren't you?
GUENEVERE: I mustn't be.
LANCELOT: But aren't you?

GUENEVERE: Oh, I — (She closes her eyes, and he draws
her toward him. Suddenly she frees herself.) No! Lan
celot ! No ! I'm not in love with you. And you're not in
love with me. We're just two wicked people who want to
kiss each other.

LANCELOT : Wicked ? I don't feel wicked. Do you ?

GUENEVERE: No. I just feel natural. But it's the same
thing-. (He approaches her with outstretched arms. She
retreats behind the chair.) No, no. Remember that I'm
married.

LANCELOT: I don't care.

GUENEVERE : Then remember that you're engaged !

LANCELOT: Engaged?

GUENEVERE: Yes: to Vivien.

LANCELOT: (Stopping short.) So I am.

GUENEVERE: And you're in love with her.

LANCELOT: That's true.

you?

GUENEVERE: You see now that you can't kiss me, don't
u?

LANCELOT: Yes.

62

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEvERE : Then thank God! for I was about to let
you. And that's in the fifth place — that if we kiss each
other once, we're sure to do it again — and again — and
again. Now go over there and sit down, and we'll talk
sanely and sensibly.

LANCELOT: (Obeying.) Heavens, what a moment! I'm
not over it yet.

Neither am I. We're a pair of sillies,
aren't we? I never thought I should ever behave in such
a fashion.

LANCELOT : It was my fault. I shouldn't have started it.
GUENEvERE : I am as much to blame as you.
LANCELOT: I'm sorry.

GUENEVERE: Are you?

LANCELOT : I ought to be. But I'm not, exactly.
GUENEvERE: I'm not either, I'm ashamed to say.
LANCELOT : The truth is, I want to kiss you again.

GUENEvERE: And I — but do you call this talking sen
sibly?

LANCELOT : I suppose it isn't. Well, go ahead with your
sixth place, then. Only for heavens sake, say something
that will really do some good.

GUENEvERE: Very well, then, Lancelot. Do you really
want to elope with me?

LANCELOT: Very much.

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

GUENEVERE: That's not the right answer. You know
perfectly well you want to do nothing of the sort. What !
Scandalize everybody, and ruin my reputation, and break
Vivien's heart?

LANCELOT: No 1 don't suppose I really want to do

any of those things.

GUENEVERE: Then do you want to conduct a secret and
vulgar intrigue that will end either in mutual disgust or in
the divorce court?

LANCELOT: (Soberly.) No, not at all.

GUENEVERE : You realize, of course, that this madness of
ours is something that might last no longer than a month?

LANCELOT : Perhaps.

GUENEVERE : Well, then do you still want to kiss me ?

Think what you are saying. For I may let
you, Lancelot. And that kiss may be the beginning of the
catastrophe. (She moves toward him.) Do you want a
kiss that brings with it grief and fear and danger and
heartbreak ?

LANCELOT : No. I only want — a kiss.

GUENEVERE: No, Lancelot. No. You have lost your
chance.

LANCELOT: Kiss me!

GUENEVERE : Never. If you had believed, for one moment,
that it was worth all those things, I should have believed
it, too, and kissed you, and not cared what happened. I

64

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

should have risked the love of my husband and the happi
ness of your sweetheart without a qualm. And who
knows ? — it might have been worth it. An hour from now
1 shall be sure it wasn't. I shall be sure it was all blind
wicked folly. But now I am a little sorry. I wanted to
gamble with fate. I wanted us to stake our two lives reck
lessly upon a kiss — and see what happened. And you
couldn't. It wasn't a moment of beauty and terror to you.
You didn't want to challenge fate. You just wanted to
kiss me. . . . Go !

LANCELOT: (Turning on her bitterly.) You women!
Because you are afraid, you accuse us of being cowards.

GUENEVERE : What do you mean?

LANCELOT: (Brutally.) You! You want a love-affair.
Your common sense tells you it's folly. Your reason won't
allow it. So you want your common sense to be over
whelmed, your reason lost. You want to be swept off your
feet. You want to be made to do something you don't ap
prove of. You want to be wicked, and you want it to be
someone else's fault. Tell me — isn't it true?

GUENEVERE : Yes — it is true — except for one thing, Lan
celot. I wanted you to sweep me off my feet — to make me
forget everything. It was wrong, it was foolish of me to
want it, but I did. Only, if you had done it, you wouldn't
have been to "blame." I should have loved you forever
because you could do it — that is all. And now — because
you couldn't — I despise you. Now you know. . . . Go.

LANCELOT : No, Guenevere, — you don't despise me.
You're angry with me — and angry with yourself — because

65

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

you couldn't quite forget King Arthur. You're blaming
me — and I'm blaming you: isn't it amusing?

GUENEvERE : You are right, Lancelot. It's my fault.
Oh, I envy women like

LANCELOT: Like whom?

GUENEvERE : Like Vivien- — like Mary ! — who can risk
making fools of themselves — who forget everything and
don't care what they do ! I suppose that is love — and I'm
not up to it.

LANCELOT: You are different.

GUENEvERE: Different? Yes, I'm a coward. / couldn't
have gone to your room, like Mary. I couldn't have dared
your scorn, like Vivien. I'm not primitive enough.
Despise me. You've a right to. And — please go.

LANCELOT : I'm afraid I'm not very primitive either,
Gwen. I

GUENEvERE: I'm afraid you're not, Lance. That's the
trouble with us. We're civilized. Hopelessly civilized. We
had a spark of the old barbaric flame — but it went out.
We put it out — quenched it with conversation. No, Lan
celot, we've talked our hour away. It's time for you to
pack up. Good bye. (He kisses her hand lingeringly.)
You may kiss my lips if you like. There's not the slightest
danger. We were — unnecessarily alarmed — about our
selves. We couldn't misbehave! . . . Going?

LANCELOT: Damn you! Good bye! (He goes out).

66

THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYS

_^.,^,^ , . (After a moment, in great relief.) Well —

that did it ! . . . If he had stayed after that — good heavens !
(She shudders, smiles, and goes to the chair. She is
. placidly darning Arthur's socks when the curtain falls).

CURTAIN

G7

t 4 T\

RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT

TO— * 202 Main Library

LOAN PERIOD 1
HOME USE

2

3

4

5

6

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS

Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date.

Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW

J'JL 05 1096

FORM NO. DD6

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY
BERKELEY, CA 94720

GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKELEY