plays [33]
that throbbed behind that quaint attire
Burned with a plenitude of essential fire.
They too could risk, they also could rebel,
They could love wisely - they could love too well.
In that great duel of Sex, that ancient strife
Which is the very central fact of life,
They could - and did - engage it breath for breath,
They could - and did - get wounded unto death.
As at all times since time for us began
Woman was truly woman, man was man,
And joy and sorrow were as much at home
In trifling Tunbridge as in mighty Rome.
Dead - dead and done with! Swift from shine to shade
The roaring generations flit and fade.
To this one, fading, flitting, like the rest,
We come to proffer - be it worst or best -
A sketch, a shadow, of one brave old time;
A hint of what it might have held sublime;
A dream, an idyll, call it what you will,
Of man still Man, and woman - Woman still!
BEAU AUSTIN
MUSICAL INDUCTION: 'LASCIA CH'IO PIANGA' (RINALDO). HANDEL.
ACT I.
The Stage represents Miss Foster's apartments at the Wells.
Doors, L. and C.; a window, L. C., looking on the street; a table
R., laid for breakfast.
SCENE I
BARBARA; to her MISS FOSTER
BARBARA (OUT OF WINDOW). Mr. Menteith! Mr. Menteith! Mr.
Menteith! - Drat his old head! Will nothing make him hear? - Mr.
Menteith!
MISS FOSTER (ENTERING). Barbara! this is incredible: after all
my lessons, to be leaning from the window, and calling (for
unless my ears deceived me, you were positively calling!) into
the street.
BARBARA. Well, madam, just wait until you hear who it was. I
declare it was much more for Miss Dorothy and yourself than for
me; and if it was a little countrified, I had a good excuse.
MISS FOSTER. Nonsense, child! At least, who was it?
BARBARA. Miss Evelina, I was sure you would ask. Well, what do
you think? I was looking out of window at the barber's opposite
-
MISS FOSTER. Of which I entirely disapprove -
BARBARA. And first there came out two of the most beautiful -
the Royal livery, madam!
MISS FOSTER. Of course, of course: the Duke of York arrived
last night. I trust you did not hail the Duke's footmen?
BARBARA. O no, madam, it was after they were gone. Then, who
should come out - but you'll never guess!
MISS FOSTER. I shall certainly not try.
BARBARA. Mr. Menteith himself!
MISS FOSTER. Why, child, I never heard of him.
BARBARA. O madam, not the Beau's own gentleman?
MISS FOSTER. Mr. Austin's servant. No? Is it possible? By
that, George Austin must be here.
BARBARA. No doubt of that, madam; they're never far apart. He
came out feeling his chin, madam, so; and a packet of letters
under his arm, so; and he had the Beau's own walk to that degree
you couldn't tell his back from his master's.
MISS FOSTER. My dear Barbara, you too frequently forget
yourself. A young woman in your position must beware of levity.
BARBARA. Madam, I know it; but la, what are you to make of me?
Look at the time and trouble dear Miss Dorothy was always taking
- she that trained up everybody - and see what's come of it:
Barbara Ridley I was, and Barbara Ridley I am; and I don't do
with fashionable ways - I can't do with them; and indeed, Miss
Evelina, I do sometimes wish we were all back again on Edenside,
and Mr. Anthony a boy again, and dear Miss Dorothy her old self,
galloping the bay mare along the moor, and taking care of all of
us as if she was our mother, bless her heart!
MISS FOSTER. Miss Dorothy herself, child? Well, now you mention
it, Tunbridge of late has scarcely seemed to suit her
constitution. She falls away, has not a word to throw at a dog,
and is ridiculously pale. Well, now Mr. Austin has returned,
after six months of infidelity to the dear Wells, we shall all, I
hope, be brightened up. Has the mail come?
BARBARA. That it has, madam, and the sight of Mr. Menteith put
it clean out of my head. (WITH LETTERS.) Four for you, Miss
Evelina, two for me, and only one for Miss Dorothy. Miss Dorothy
Burned with a plenitude of essential fire.
They too could risk, they also could rebel,
They could love wisely - they could love too well.
In that great duel of Sex, that ancient strife
Which is the very central fact of life,
They could - and did - engage it breath for breath,
They could - and did - get wounded unto death.
As at all times since time for us began
Woman was truly woman, man was man,
And joy and sorrow were as much at home
In trifling Tunbridge as in mighty Rome.
Dead - dead and done with! Swift from shine to shade
The roaring generations flit and fade.
To this one, fading, flitting, like the rest,
We come to proffer - be it worst or best -
A sketch, a shadow, of one brave old time;
A hint of what it might have held sublime;
A dream, an idyll, call it what you will,
Of man still Man, and woman - Woman still!
BEAU AUSTIN
MUSICAL INDUCTION: 'LASCIA CH'IO PIANGA' (RINALDO). HANDEL.
ACT I.
The Stage represents Miss Foster's apartments at the Wells.
Doors, L. and C.; a window, L. C., looking on the street; a table
R., laid for breakfast.
SCENE I
BARBARA; to her MISS FOSTER
BARBARA (OUT OF WINDOW). Mr. Menteith! Mr. Menteith! Mr.
Menteith! - Drat his old head! Will nothing make him hear? - Mr.
Menteith!
MISS FOSTER (ENTERING). Barbara! this is incredible: after all
my lessons, to be leaning from the window, and calling (for
unless my ears deceived me, you were positively calling!) into
the street.
BARBARA. Well, madam, just wait until you hear who it was. I
declare it was much more for Miss Dorothy and yourself than for
me; and if it was a little countrified, I had a good excuse.
MISS FOSTER. Nonsense, child! At least, who was it?
BARBARA. Miss Evelina, I was sure you would ask. Well, what do
you think? I was looking out of window at the barber's opposite
-
MISS FOSTER. Of which I entirely disapprove -
BARBARA. And first there came out two of the most beautiful -
the Royal livery, madam!
MISS FOSTER. Of course, of course: the Duke of York arrived
last night. I trust you did not hail the Duke's footmen?
BARBARA. O no, madam, it was after they were gone. Then, who
should come out - but you'll never guess!
MISS FOSTER. I shall certainly not try.
BARBARA. Mr. Menteith himself!
MISS FOSTER. Why, child, I never heard of him.
BARBARA. O madam, not the Beau's own gentleman?
MISS FOSTER. Mr. Austin's servant. No? Is it possible? By
that, George Austin must be here.
BARBARA. No doubt of that, madam; they're never far apart. He
came out feeling his chin, madam, so; and a packet of letters
under his arm, so; and he had the Beau's own walk to that degree
you couldn't tell his back from his master's.
MISS FOSTER. My dear Barbara, you too frequently forget
yourself. A young woman in your position must beware of levity.
BARBARA. Madam, I know it; but la, what are you to make of me?
Look at the time and trouble dear Miss Dorothy was always taking
- she that trained up everybody - and see what's come of it:
Barbara Ridley I was, and Barbara Ridley I am; and I don't do
with fashionable ways - I can't do with them; and indeed, Miss
Evelina, I do sometimes wish we were all back again on Edenside,
and Mr. Anthony a boy again, and dear Miss Dorothy her old self,
galloping the bay mare along the moor, and taking care of all of
us as if she was our mother, bless her heart!
MISS FOSTER. Miss Dorothy herself, child? Well, now you mention
it, Tunbridge of late has scarcely seemed to suit her
constitution. She falls away, has not a word to throw at a dog,
and is ridiculously pale. Well, now Mr. Austin has returned,
after six months of infidelity to the dear Wells, we shall all, I
hope, be brightened up. Has the mail come?
BARBARA. That it has, madam, and the sight of Mr. Menteith put
it clean out of my head. (WITH LETTERS.) Four for you, Miss
Evelina, two for me, and only one for Miss Dorothy. Miss Dorothy