plays [19]
my word. And now you have said what
you came to say, you must go. I have business here; but two
hours hence I am at your ... orders. Where shall I await you?
MOORE. What about that woman's place of yours?
BRODIE. Your will is my law.
MOORE. That's good enough. Now, Dock.
SMITH. Bye-bye, my William. Don't forget.
SCENE IX
BRODIE. Trust me. No man forgets his vice, you dogs, or
forgives it either. It must be done: Leslie's to-night and the
Excise to-morrow. It shall be done. This settles it. They used
to fetch and carry for me, and now . . . I've licked their boots,
have I? I'm their man, their tool, their chattel. It's the
bottom rung of the ladder of shame. I sound with my foot, and
there's nothing underneath but the black emptiness of damnation.
Ah, Deacon, Deacon, and so this is where you've been travelling
all these years; and it's for this that you learned French! The
gallows . . . God help me, it begins to dog me like my shadow.
THERE'S a step to take! And the jerk upon your spine! How's a
man to die with a night-cap on? I've done with this. Over
yonder, across the great ocean, is a new land, with new
characters, and perhaps new lives. The sun shines, and the bells
ring, and it's a place where men live gladly; and the Deacon
himself can walk without terror, and begin again like a new-born
child. It must be good to see day again and not to fear; it must
be good to be one's self with all men. Happy like a child, wise
like a man, free like God's angels . . . should I work these
hands off and eat crusts, there were a life to make me young and
good again. And it's only over the sea! O man, you have been
blind, and now your eyes are opened. It was half a life's
nightmare, and now you are awake. Up, Deacon, up, it's hope
that's at the window! Mary! Mary! Mary!
SCENE X
BRODIE, MARY, OLD BRODIE
(BRODIE has fallen into a chair, with his face upon the table.
Enter MARY, by the side door pushing her father's chair. She is
supposed to have advanced far enough for stage purposes before
BRODIE is aware of her. He starts up, and runs to her.)
BRODIE. Look up, my lass, look up, and be a woman! I . . . O
kiss me, Mary I give me a kiss for my good news.
MARY. Good news, Will? Is it changed?
BRODIE. Changed? Why, the world's a different colour! It was
night, and now it's broad day and I trust myself again. You must
wait, dear, wait, and I must work and work; and before the week
is out, as sure as God sees me, I'll have made you happy. O you
may think me broken, hounds, but the Deacon's not the man to be
run down; trust him, he shall turn a corner yet, and leave you
snarling! And you, Poll, you. I've done nothing for you yet;
but, please God, I'll make your life a life of gold; and wherever
I am, I'll have a part in your happiness, and you'll know it, by
heaven! and bless me.
MARY. O Willie, look at him; I think he hears you, and is trying
to be glad with us.
BRODIE. My son - Deacon - better man than I was.
BRODIE. O for God's sake, hear him!
MARY. He is quite happy, Will, and so am I ... so am I.
BRODIE. Hear me, Mary. This is a big moment in our two lives.
I swear to you by the father here between us that it shall not be
fault of mine if this thing fails; if this ship founders you have
set your hopes in. I swear it by our father; I swear it by God's
judgments.
MARY. I want no oaths, Will.
BRODIE. No, but I do. And prayers, Mary, prayers. Pray night
and day upon your knees. I must move mountains.
OLD BRODIE. A wise son maketh - maketh -
BRODIE. A glad father? And does your son, the Deacon, make you
glad? O heaven of heavens, if I were a good man.
ACT-DROP
ACT III.
TABLEAU V. KING'S EVIDENCE
The Stage represents a public place in Edinburgh.
SCENE I
JEAN, SMITH, AND MOORE
(They loiter in L., and stand looking about as for somebody not
there. SMITH is hat in hand to JEAN; MOORE as usual.)
MOORE. Wot did I tell you? Is he 'ere,
you came to say, you must go. I have business here; but two
hours hence I am at your ... orders. Where shall I await you?
MOORE. What about that woman's place of yours?
BRODIE. Your will is my law.
MOORE. That's good enough. Now, Dock.
SMITH. Bye-bye, my William. Don't forget.
SCENE IX
BRODIE. Trust me. No man forgets his vice, you dogs, or
forgives it either. It must be done: Leslie's to-night and the
Excise to-morrow. It shall be done. This settles it. They used
to fetch and carry for me, and now . . . I've licked their boots,
have I? I'm their man, their tool, their chattel. It's the
bottom rung of the ladder of shame. I sound with my foot, and
there's nothing underneath but the black emptiness of damnation.
Ah, Deacon, Deacon, and so this is where you've been travelling
all these years; and it's for this that you learned French! The
gallows . . . God help me, it begins to dog me like my shadow.
THERE'S a step to take! And the jerk upon your spine! How's a
man to die with a night-cap on? I've done with this. Over
yonder, across the great ocean, is a new land, with new
characters, and perhaps new lives. The sun shines, and the bells
ring, and it's a place where men live gladly; and the Deacon
himself can walk without terror, and begin again like a new-born
child. It must be good to see day again and not to fear; it must
be good to be one's self with all men. Happy like a child, wise
like a man, free like God's angels . . . should I work these
hands off and eat crusts, there were a life to make me young and
good again. And it's only over the sea! O man, you have been
blind, and now your eyes are opened. It was half a life's
nightmare, and now you are awake. Up, Deacon, up, it's hope
that's at the window! Mary! Mary! Mary!
SCENE X
BRODIE, MARY, OLD BRODIE
(BRODIE has fallen into a chair, with his face upon the table.
Enter MARY, by the side door pushing her father's chair. She is
supposed to have advanced far enough for stage purposes before
BRODIE is aware of her. He starts up, and runs to her.)
BRODIE. Look up, my lass, look up, and be a woman! I . . . O
kiss me, Mary I give me a kiss for my good news.
MARY. Good news, Will? Is it changed?
BRODIE. Changed? Why, the world's a different colour! It was
night, and now it's broad day and I trust myself again. You must
wait, dear, wait, and I must work and work; and before the week
is out, as sure as God sees me, I'll have made you happy. O you
may think me broken, hounds, but the Deacon's not the man to be
run down; trust him, he shall turn a corner yet, and leave you
snarling! And you, Poll, you. I've done nothing for you yet;
but, please God, I'll make your life a life of gold; and wherever
I am, I'll have a part in your happiness, and you'll know it, by
heaven! and bless me.
MARY. O Willie, look at him; I think he hears you, and is trying
to be glad with us.
BRODIE. My son - Deacon - better man than I was.
BRODIE. O for God's sake, hear him!
MARY. He is quite happy, Will, and so am I ... so am I.
BRODIE. Hear me, Mary. This is a big moment in our two lives.
I swear to you by the father here between us that it shall not be
fault of mine if this thing fails; if this ship founders you have
set your hopes in. I swear it by our father; I swear it by God's
judgments.
MARY. I want no oaths, Will.
BRODIE. No, but I do. And prayers, Mary, prayers. Pray night
and day upon your knees. I must move mountains.
OLD BRODIE. A wise son maketh - maketh -
BRODIE. A glad father? And does your son, the Deacon, make you
glad? O heaven of heavens, if I were a good man.
ACT-DROP
ACT III.
TABLEAU V. KING'S EVIDENCE
The Stage represents a public place in Edinburgh.
SCENE I
JEAN, SMITH, AND MOORE
(They loiter in L., and stand looking about as for somebody not
there. SMITH is hat in hand to JEAN; MOORE as usual.)
MOORE. Wot did I tell you? Is he 'ere,