The Scene is the Exterior3 of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a desperately4 Arcadian afternoon in August. MR. ICKY, quaintly5 dressed in the costume of an Elizabethan peasant, is pottering and doddering among the pots and dods. He is an old man, well past the prime of life, no longer young, From the fact that there is a burr in his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrongside out, we surmise6 that he is either above or below the ordinary superficialities of life.
Near him on the grass lies PETER, a little boy. PETER, of course, has his chin on his palm like the pictures of the young Sir Walter Raleigh. He has a complete set of features, including serious, sombre, even funereal7, gray eyes — and radiates that alluring8 air of never having eaten food. This air can best be radiated during the afterglow of a beef dinner. He is looking at MR. ICKY, fascinated.
Silence. . . . The song of birds.
PETER: Often at night I sit at my window and regard the stars. Sometimes I think they’re my stars. . . . (Gravely) I think I shall be a star some day. . . .
ME. ICKY: (Whimsically) Yes, yes . . . yes. . . .
PETER: I know them all: Venus, Mars, Neptune9, Gloria Swanson.
MR. ICKY: I don’t take no stock in astronomy. . . . I’ve been thinking o’ Lunnon, laddie. And calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for to be a typewriter. . . . (He sighs.)
PETER: I liked Ulsa, Mr. Icky; she was so plump, so round, so buxom10.
MR. ICKY: Not worth the paper she was padded with, laddie. (He stumbles over a pile of pots and dods.)
PETER: How is your asthma11, Mr. Icky?
MR. ICKY: Worse, thank God! . . . (Gloomily.) I’m a hundred years old . . . I’m getting brittle12.
PETER: I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty arson13.
MR. ICKY: Yes . . . yes. . . . You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty I reformed once — in prison.
PETER: You went wrong again?
MR. ICKY: Worse than that. The week before my term expired they insisted on transferring to me the glands14 of a healthy young prisoner they were executing.
PETER: And it renovated15 you?
MR. ICKY: Renovated me! It put the Old Nick back into me! This young criminal was evidently a suburban16 burglar and a kleptomaniac17. What was a little playful arson in comparison!
PETER: (Awed) How ghastly! Science is the bunk18.
MR. ICKY: (Sighing) I got him pretty well subdued19 now. ‘Tisn’t every one who has to tire out two sets o’ glands in his lifetime. I wouldn’t take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan20 asylum21.
PETER: (Considering) I shouldn’t think you’d object to a nice quiet old clergyman’s set.
MR. ICKY: Clergymen haven’t got glands — they have souls.
(There is a low, sonorous22 honking23 off stage to indicate that a large motor-car has stopped in the immediate24 vicinity. Then a young man handsomely attired25 in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat comes onto the stage. He is very mundane26. His contrast to the spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first row of the balcony. This is RODNEY DIVINE.)
DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky.
(MR. ICKY rises and stands tremulously between two dods.)
MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon.
DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her.
(He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel27 that hangs at his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights.)
DIVINE: I shall wait.
(He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an occasional cackle or hiss28 from the dods as they quarrel among themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks by DIVINE or a tumbling act, as desired.)
DIVINE: It’s very quiet here.
MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet. . . .
(Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It is ULSA ICKY. On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar29 to early Italian painting.)
ULSA: (In a coarse, worldly voice) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did what?
MR. ICKY: (Tremulously) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (They embrace each other’s torsos.)
MR. ICKY: (Hopefully) You’ve come back to help with the ploughing.
ULSA: (Sullenly) No, feyther; ploughing’s such a beyther. I’d reyther not.
(Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and clean.)
DIVINE: (Conciliatingly) See here, Ulsa. Let’s come to an understanding.
(He advances toward her with the graceful30, even stride that made him captain of the striding team at Cambridge.)
ULSA: You still say it would be Jack31?
MR. ICKY: What does she mean?
DIVINE: (Kindly32) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It couldn’t be Frank.
MR. ICKY: Frank who?
ULSA: It would be Frank!
(Some risqué joke can be introduced here.)
MR. ICKY: (Whimsically) No good fighting . . . no good fighting . . .
DIVINE: (Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford) You’d better marry me.
ULSA: (Scornfully) Why, they wouldn’t let me in through the servants’ entrance of your house.
DIVINE: (Angrily) They wouldn’t! Never fear — you shall come in through the mistress’ entrance.
ULSA: Sir!
DIVINE: (In confusion) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean?
MR. ICKY: (Aching with whimsey) You want to marry my little Ulsa? . . .
DIVINE: I do.
MR. ICKY: Your record is clean.
DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world —-
ULSA: And the worst by-laws.
DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined33 for the police force —-
MR. ICKY: Skip that. . . . Have you money? . . .
DIVINE: Wads of it. I should expect Ulsa to go down town in sections every morning — in two Rolls Royces. I have also a kiddy-car and a converted tank. I have seats at the opera —-
ULSA: (Sullenly) I can’t sleep except in a box. And I’ve heard that you were cashiered from your club.
MR. ICKY: A cashier? . . .
DIVINE: (Hanging his head) I was cashiered.
ULSA: What for?
DIVINE: (Almost inaudibly) I hid the polo bails34 one day for a joke.
MR. ICKY: Is your mind in good shape?
DIVINE: (Gloomily) Fair. After all what is brilliance35? Merely the tact37 to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is.
ME. ICKY; Be careful. . . . I will-not marry my daughter to an epigram. . . .
DIVINE: (More gloomily) I assure you I’m a mere36 platitude38. I often descend39 to the level of an innate40 idea.
ULSA: (Dully) None of what you’re saying matters. I can’t marry a man who thinks it would be Jack. Why Frank would —
DIVINE: (Interrupting) Nonsense!
ULSA: (Emphatically) You’re a fool!
MR. ICKY: Tut-tut! . . . One should not judge . . . Charity, my girl. What was it Nero said? —“With malice41 toward none, with charity toward all —-”
PETER: That wasn’t Nero. That was John Drinkwater.
MR. ICKY: Come! Who is this Frank? Who is this Jack?
DIVINE: (Morosely) Gotch.
ULSA: Dempsey.
DIVINE: We were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in a room together which one would come out alive. Now I claimed that Jack Dempsey would take one —-
ULSA: (Angrily) Rot! He wouldn’t have a —-
DIVINE: (Quickly) You win.
ULSA: Then I love you again.
MR. ICKY: So I’m going to lose my little daughter . . .
ULSA: You’ve still got a houseful of children,
(CHARLES, ULSA’S brother, coming out of the cottage. He is dressed as if to go to sea; a coil of rope is slung42 about his shoulder and an anchor is hanging from his neck.)
CHARLES: (Not seeing them) I’m going to sea! I’m going to sea!
(His voice is triumphant43.)
MR. ICKY: (Sadly) You went to seed long ago.
CHARLES: I’ve been reading “Conrad.”
PETER: (Dreamily) “Conrad,” ah! “Two Years Before the Mast,” by Henry James.
CHARLES: What?
PETER: Walter Pater’s version of “Robinson Crusoe.”
CHARLES: (To his feyther) I can’t stay here and rot with you. I want to live my life. I want to hunt eels44.
MR. ICKY: I will be here . . . when you come back. . . .
CHARLES: (Contemptuously) Why, the worms are licking their chops already when they hear your name.
(It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for some time. It will improve the technique if they can be rendering46 a spirited saxophone number.)
MR. ICKY: (Mournfully) These vales, these hills, these McCormick harvesters — they mean nothing to my children. I understand.
CHARLES: (More gently) Then you’ll think of me kindly, feyther. To understand is to forgive.
MR. ICKY: No . . . no. . . . We never forgive those we can understand. . . . We can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all. . . .
CHARLES: (Impatiently) I’m so beastly sick of your human nature line. And, anyway, I hate the hours around here.
(Several dozen more of MR. ICKY’S children trip out of the house, trip over the grass, and trip over the pots and dods. They are muttering “We are going away,” and “We are leaving you.”)
MR. ICKY: (His heart breaking) They’re all deserting me. I’ve been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of a Bismarck.
(There is a honking outside — probably DIVINE’S chauffeur47 growing impatient for his master.)
MR. ICKY: (In misery) They do not love the soil! They have been faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (He picks up a handful of soil passionately48 and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts49.) Oh, Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke45!
“No motion has she now, no force;
She does not hear or feel;
Roll’d round on earth’s diurnal50 course
In some one’s Oldsmobile.”
(They all groan51 and shouting “Life” and “Jazz” move slowly toward the wings.)
CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I’ve been trying to turn my back to the soil for ten years!
ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone52 of the country, but who wants to be a backbone?
ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce53 of my country if I can eat the salad!
ALL: Life! Psychic54 Research! Jazz!
MR. ICKY: (Struggling with himself) I must be quaint1. That’s all there is. It’s not life that counts, it’s the quaintness you bring to it. . . .
ALL: We’re going to slide down the Riviera. We’ve got tickets for Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz!
MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at random55. One always finds something that bears on the situation.
(He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random begins to read.)
“Ahab and Istemo and Anim, Goson and Olon and Gilo, eleven cities and their villages. Arab, and Ruma, and Esaau —”
CHARLES: (Cruelly) Buy ten more rings and try again.
MR. ICKY: (Trying again) “How beautiful art thou my love, how beautiful art thou! Thy eyes are dove’s eyes, besides what is hid within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats which come up from Mount Galaad — Hm! Rather a coarse passage. . . . ”
(His children laugh at him rudely, shouting “Jazz!” and “All life is primarily suggestive!”)
MR. ICKY: (Despondently) It won’t work to-day. (Hopefully) Maybe it’s damp. (He feels it) Yes, it’s damp. . . . There was water in the dod. . . . It won’t work.
ALL: It’s damp! It won’t work! Jazz!
ONE OF THE CHILDREN: Come, we must catch the six-thirty.
(Any other cue may be inserted here.)
MR. ICKY: Good-by. . . .
(They all go out. MR. ICKY is left alone. He sighs and walking over to the cottage steps, lies down, and closes his eyes.)
Twilight56 has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as never was on land or sea. There is no sound except a sheep-herder’s wife in the distance playing an aria57 from Beethoven’s Tenth Symphony, on a mouth-organ. The great white and gray moths58 swoop59 down and light on the old man until he is completely covered by them. But he does not stir.
The curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse60 of several minutes. A good comedy effect can be obtained by having MR. ICKY cling to the curtain and go up and down with it. Fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this point.
Then PETER appears, a look of almost imbecile sweetness on his face. In his hand he clutches something and from time to time glances at it in a transport of ecstasy61. After a struggle with himself he lays it on the old man’s body and then quietly withdraws.
The moths chatter62 among themselves and then scurry63 away in sudden fright. And as night deepens there still sparkles there, small, white and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Issacshire breeze, PETER’S gift of love — a moth-ball.
(The play can end at this point or can go on indefinitely.)
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1
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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quaintness
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| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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9
Neptune
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| n.海王星 | |
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buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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asthma
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| n.气喘病，哮喘病 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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glands
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| n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
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15
renovated
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| 翻新，修复，整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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kleptomaniac
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| n.有偷窃狂的人 | |
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18
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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19
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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23
honking
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| v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的现在分词 ) | |
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24
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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32
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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34
bails
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| （法庭命令缴付的）保释金( bail的名词复数 )； 三柱门上的横木 | |
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35
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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platitude
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| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
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39
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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40
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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41
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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42
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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43
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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44
eels
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| abbr. 电子发射器定位系统（=electronic emitter location system） | |
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45
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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46
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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48
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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49
sprouts
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| n.新芽，嫩枝( sprout的名词复数 )v.发芽( sprout的第三人称单数 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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diurnal
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| adj.白天的，每日的 | |
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51
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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52
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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53
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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54
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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56
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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57
aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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58
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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59
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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61
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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