Four Short Plays [17]
now, Miller. Got it marked carefully?
ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane.
VANE. Good. [To FRUST who as coming down] Well, sir? So glad----
FRUST. Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract?
VANE. Yes.
FRUST. Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine. But I'm blamed if I know what it's all about.
VANE. [A little staggered] Why! Of course it's a little allegory. The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature kept out, or pent up even in the cultured.
FRUST. Ye-ep. [Meditatively] Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes the Weasel."
VANE. Yes, he'd be all right, but----
FRUST. Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now.
VANE. What! But this piece--I--I----!
FRUST. Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane. They want pep.
VANE. [Distressed] But it'll break that girl's heart. I--really--I can't----
FRUST. Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes.
VANE. Mr Frust, I--I beg. I've taken a lot of trouble with this little play. It's good. It's that girl's chance--and I----
FRUST. We-ell! I certainly thought she was fine. Now, you 'phone up Miggs, and get right along with it. I've only one rule, sir! Give the Public what it wants; and what the Public wants is punch and go. They've got no use for Beauty, Allegory, all that high-brow racket. I know 'em as I know my hand.
[During this speech MISS HELLGROVE is seen listening by the French window, in distress, unnoticed by either of them.]
VANE. Mr Frost, the Public would take this, I'm sure they would; I'm convinced of it. You underrate them.
FRUST. Now, see here, Mr Blewitt Vane, is this my theatre? I tell you, I can't afford luxuries.
VANE. But it--it moved you, sir; I saw it. I was watching.
FRUST. [With unmoved finality] Mr Vane, I judge I'm not the average man. Before "Louisa Loses" the Public'll want a stimulant. "Pop goes the Weasel" will suit us fine. So--get right along with it. I'll go get some lunch.
[As he vanishes into the wings, Left, MISS HELLGROVE covers her face with her hands. A little sob escaping her attracts VANE'S attention. He takes a step towards her, but she flies.]
VANE. [Dashing his hands through his hair till it stands up] Damnation!
[FORESON walks on from the wings, Right.]
FORESON. Sir?
VANE. "Punch and go!" That superstition!
[FORESON walks straight out into the wings, Left.]
VANE. Mr Foreson!
FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir?
VANE. This is scrapped. [With savagery] Tell 'em to set the first act of "Louisa Loses," and put some pep into it.
[He goes out through the French windows with the wind still in his hair.]
FORESON. [In the centre of the Stage] Electrics!
ELECTRICS. Hallo!
FORESON. Where's Charlie?
ELECTRICS. Gone to his dinner.
FORESON. Anybody on the curtain?
A VOICE. Yes, Mr Foreson.
FORESON. Put your curtain down.
[He stands in the centre of the Stage with eyes uplifted as the curtain descends.]
End
ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane.
VANE. Good. [To FRUST who as coming down] Well, sir? So glad----
FRUST. Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract?
VANE. Yes.
FRUST. Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine. But I'm blamed if I know what it's all about.
VANE. [A little staggered] Why! Of course it's a little allegory. The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature kept out, or pent up even in the cultured.
FRUST. Ye-ep. [Meditatively] Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes the Weasel."
VANE. Yes, he'd be all right, but----
FRUST. Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now.
VANE. What! But this piece--I--I----!
FRUST. Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane. They want pep.
VANE. [Distressed] But it'll break that girl's heart. I--really--I can't----
FRUST. Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes.
VANE. Mr Frust, I--I beg. I've taken a lot of trouble with this little play. It's good. It's that girl's chance--and I----
FRUST. We-ell! I certainly thought she was fine. Now, you 'phone up Miggs, and get right along with it. I've only one rule, sir! Give the Public what it wants; and what the Public wants is punch and go. They've got no use for Beauty, Allegory, all that high-brow racket. I know 'em as I know my hand.
[During this speech MISS HELLGROVE is seen listening by the French window, in distress, unnoticed by either of them.]
VANE. Mr Frost, the Public would take this, I'm sure they would; I'm convinced of it. You underrate them.
FRUST. Now, see here, Mr Blewitt Vane, is this my theatre? I tell you, I can't afford luxuries.
VANE. But it--it moved you, sir; I saw it. I was watching.
FRUST. [With unmoved finality] Mr Vane, I judge I'm not the average man. Before "Louisa Loses" the Public'll want a stimulant. "Pop goes the Weasel" will suit us fine. So--get right along with it. I'll go get some lunch.
[As he vanishes into the wings, Left, MISS HELLGROVE covers her face with her hands. A little sob escaping her attracts VANE'S attention. He takes a step towards her, but she flies.]
VANE. [Dashing his hands through his hair till it stands up] Damnation!
[FORESON walks on from the wings, Right.]
FORESON. Sir?
VANE. "Punch and go!" That superstition!
[FORESON walks straight out into the wings, Left.]
VANE. Mr Foreson!
FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir?
VANE. This is scrapped. [With savagery] Tell 'em to set the first act of "Louisa Loses," and put some pep into it.
[He goes out through the French windows with the wind still in his hair.]
FORESON. [In the centre of the Stage] Electrics!
ELECTRICS. Hallo!
FORESON. Where's Charlie?
ELECTRICS. Gone to his dinner.
FORESON. Anybody on the curtain?
A VOICE. Yes, Mr Foreson.
FORESON. Put your curtain down.
[He stands in the centre of the Stage with eyes uplifted as the curtain descends.]
End