Tuesday's Serial: “Lavengro” by George Borrow (in English) - XXII

 

Chapter 43

progress—glorious john—utterly unintelligible

 

By the month of October I had, in spite of all difficulties and obstacles, accomplished about two-thirds of the principal task which I had undertaken, the compiling of the Newgate lives; I had also made some progress in translating the publisher's philosophy into German. But about this time I began to see very clearly that it was impossible that our connection should prove of long duration; yet, in the event of my leaving the big man, what other resource had I—another publisher? But what had I to offer? There were my ballads, my Ab Gwilym, but then I thought of Taggart and his snuff, his pinch of snuff. However, I determined to see what could be done, so I took my ballads under my arm, and went to various publishers; some took snuff, others did not, but none took my ballads or Ab Gwilym, they would not even look at them. One asked me if I had anything else—he was a snuff-taker—I said yes; and going home, returned with my translation of the German novel, to which I have before alluded. After keeping it for a fortnight, he returned it to me on my visiting him, and, taking a pinch of snuff, told me it would not do. There were marks of snuff on the outside of the manuscript, which was a roll of paper bound with red tape, but there were no marks of snuff on the interior of the manuscript, from which I concluded that he had never opened it.

I had often heard of one Glorious John, who lived at the western end of the town; on consulting Taggart, he told me that it was possible that Glorious John would publish my ballads and Ab Gwilym, that is, said he, taking a pinch of snuff, provided you can see him; so I went to the house where Glorious John resided, and a glorious house it was, but I could not see Glorious John—I called a dozen times, but I never could see Glorious John. Twenty years after, by the greatest chance in the world, I saw Glorious John, and sure enough Glorious John published my books, but they were different books from the first; I never offered my ballads or Ab Gwilym to Glorious John. Glorious John was no snuff-taker. He asked me to dinner, and treated me with superb Rhenish wine. Glorious John is now gone to his rest, but I—what was I going to say?—the world will never forget Glorious John.

So I returned to my last resource for the time then being—to the publisher, persevering doggedly in my labour. One day, on visiting the publisher, I found him stamping with fury upon certain fragments of paper. 'Sir,' said he, 'you know nothing of German; I have shown your translation of the first chapter of my Philosophy to several Germans: it is utterly unintelligible to them.' 'Did they see the Philosophy?' I replied. 'They did, sir, but they did not profess to understand English.' 'No more do I,' I replied, 'if that Philosophy be English.'

The publisher was furious—I was silent. For want of a pinch of snuff, I had recourse to something which is no bad substitute for a pinch of snuff, to those who can't take it, silent contempt; at first it made the publisher more furious, as perhaps a pinch of snuff would; it, however, eventually calmed him, and he ordered me back to my occupations, in other words, the compilation. To be brief, the compilation was completed, I got paid in the usual manner, and forthwith left him.

He was a clever man, but what a difference in clever men!

 

 

Chapter 44

the old spot—a long history—thou shalt not steal—no harm—education—necessity—foam on your lip—metaphor—fur cap—i don't know him

 

It was past midwinter, and I sat on London Bridge, in company with the old apple-woman: she has just returned to the other side of the bridge, to her place in the booth where I had originally found her. This she had done after frequent conversations with me; 'she liked the old place best,' she said, which she would never have left but for the terror which she experienced when the boys ran away with her book. So I sat with her at the old spot, one afternoon past midwinter, reading the book, of which I had by this time come to the last pages. I had observed that the old woman for some time past had shown much less anxiety about the book than she had been in the habit of doing. I was, however, not quite prepared for her offering to make me a present of it, which she did that afternoon; when, having finished it, I returned it to her, with many thanks for the pleasure and instruction I had derived from its perusal. 'You may keep it, dear,' said the old woman, with a sigh; 'you may carry it to your lodging, and keep it for your own.'

Looking at the old woman with surprise, I exclaimed, 'Is it possible that you are willing to part with the book which has been your source of comfort so long?'

Whereupon the old woman entered into a long history, from which I gathered that the book had become distasteful to her; she hardly ever opened it of late, she said, or if she did, it was only to shut it again; also, that other things which she had been fond of, though of a widely different kind, were now distasteful to her. Porter and beef-steaks were no longer grateful to her palate, her present diet chiefly consisting of tea, and bread and butter.

'Ah,' said I, 'you have been ill, and when people are ill, they seldom like the things which give them pleasure when they are in health.' I learned, moreover, that she slept little at night, and had all kinds of strange thoughts; that as she lay awake many things connected with her youth, which she had quite forgotten, came into her mind. There were certain words that came into her mind the night before the last, which were continually humming in her ears: I found that the words were, 'Thou shalt not steal.'

On inquiring where she had first heard these words, I learned that she had read them at school, in a book called the primer; to this school she had been sent by her mother, who was a poor widow, and followed the trade of apple-selling in the very spot where her daughter followed it now. It seems that the mother was a very good kind of woman, but quite ignorant of letters, the benefit of which she was willing to procure for her child; and at the school the daughter learned to read, and subsequently experienced the pleasure and benefit of letters, in being able to read the book which she found in an obscure closet of her mother's house, and which had been her principal companion and comfort for many years of her life.

But, as I have said before, she was now dissatisfied with the book, and with most other things in which she had taken pleasure; she dwelt much on the words, 'Thou shalt not steal'; she had never stolen things herself, but then she had bought things which other people had stolen, and which she knew had been stolen; and her dear son had been a thief, which he perhaps would not have been but for the example which she set him in buying things from characters, as she called them, who associated with her.

On inquiring how she had become acquainted with these characters, I learned that times had gone hard with her; that she had married, but her husband had died after a long sickness, which had reduced them to great distress; that her fruit trade was not a profitable one, and that she had bought and sold things which had been stolen to support herself and her son. That for a long time she supposed there was no harm in doing so, as her book was full of entertaining tales of stealing; but she now thought that the book was a bad book, and that learning to read was a bad thing; her mother had never been able to read, but had died in peace, though poor.

So here was a woman who attributed the vices and follies of her life to being able to read; her mother, she said, who could not read, lived respectably, and died in peace; and what was the essential difference between the mother and daughter, save that the latter could read? But for her literature she might in all probability have lived respectably and honestly, like her mother, and might eventually have died in peace, which at present she could scarcely hope to do. Education had failed to produce any good in this poor woman; on the contrary, there could be little doubt that she had been injured by it. Then was education a bad thing? Rousseau was of opinion that it was; but Rousseau was a Frenchman, at least wrote in French, and I cared not the snap of my fingers for Rousseau. But education has certainly been of benefit in some instances; well, what did that prove, but that partiality existed in the management of the affairs of the world—if education was a benefit to some, why was it not a benefit to others? Could some avoid abusing it, any more than others could avoid turning it to a profitable account? I did not see how they could; this poor simple woman found a book in her mother's closet; a book, which was a capital book for those who could turn it to the account for which it was intended; a book, from the perusal of which I felt myself wiser and better, but which was by no means suited to the intellect of this poor simple woman, who thought that it was written in praise of thieving; yet she found it, she read it, and—and—I felt myself getting into a maze; what is right, thought I? what is wrong? Do I exist? Does the world exist? if it does, every action is bound up with necessity.

'Necessity!' I exclaimed, and cracked my finger-joints.

'Ah, it is a bad thing,' said the old woman.

'What is a bad thing?' said I.

'Why to be poor, dear.'

'You talk like a fool,' said I, 'riches and poverty are only different forms of necessity.'

'You should not call me a fool, dear; you should not call your own mother a fool.'

'You are not my mother,' said I.

'Not your mother, dear?—no, no more I am; but your calling me fool put me in mind of my dear son, who often used to call me fool—and you just now looked as he sometimes did, with a blob of foam on your lip.'

'After all, I don't know that you are not my mother.'

'Don't you, dear? I'm glad of it; I wish you would make it out.'

'How should I make it out? who can speak from his own knowledge as to the circumstances of his birth? Besides, before attempting to establish our relationship, it would be necessary to prove that such people exist.'

'What people, dear?'

'You and I.'

'Lord, child, you are mad; that book has made you so.'

'Don't abuse it,' said I; 'the book is an excellent one, that is, provided it exists.'

'I wish it did not,' said the old woman; 'but it shan't long; I'll burn it, or fling it into the river—the voices at night tell me to do so.'

'Tell the voices,' said I, 'that they talk nonsense; the book, if it exists, is a good book, it contains a deep moral; have you read it all?'

'All the funny parts, dear; all about taking things, and the manner it was done; as for the rest, I could not exactly make it out.'

'Then the book is not to blame; I repeat that the book is a good book, and contains deep morality, always supposing that there is such a thing as morality, which is the same thing as supposing that there is anything at all.'

'Anything at all! Why ain't we here on this bridge, in my booth, with my stall and my—'

'Apples and pears, baked hot, you would say—I don't know; all is a mystery, a deep question. It is a question, and probably always will be, whether there is a world, and consequently apples and pears; and, provided there be a world, whether that world be like an apple or a pear.'

'Don't talk so, dear.'

'I won't; we will suppose that we all exist—world, ourselves, apples, and pears: so you wish to get rid of the book?'

'Yes, dear, I wish you would take it.'

'I have read it, and have no further use for it; I do not need books: in a little time, perhaps, I shall not have a place wherein to deposit myself, far less books.'

'Then I will fling it into the river.'

'Don't do that; here, give it me. Now what shall I do with it? you were so fond of it.'

'I am so no longer.'

'But how will you pass your time; what will you read?'

'I wish I had never learned to read, or, if I had, that I had only read the books I saw at school: the primer or the other.'

'What was the other?'

'I think they called it the Bible: all about God, and Job, and Jesus.'

'Ah, I know it.'

'You have read it; is it a nice book—all true?'

'True, true—I don't know what to say; but if the world be true, and not all a lie, a fiction, I don't see why the Bible, as they call it, should not be true. By the by, what do you call Bible in your tongue, or, indeed, book of any kind? as Bible merely means a book.'

'What do I call the Bible in my language, dear?'

'Yes, the language of those who bring you things.'

'The language of those who did, dear; they bring them now no longer. They call me fool, as you did, dear, just now; they call kissing the Bible, which means taking a false oath, smacking calf-skin.'

'That's metaphor,' said I; 'English, but metaphorical; what an odd language! So you would like to have a Bible,—shall I buy you one?'

'I am poor, dear—no money since I left off the other trade.'

'Well, then, I'll buy you one.'

'No, dear, no; you are poor, and may soon want the money; but if you can take me one conveniently on the sly, you know—I think you may, for, as it is a good book, I suppose there can be no harm in taking it.'

'That will never do,' said I, 'more especially as I should be sure to be caught, not having made taking of things my trade; but I'll tell you what I'll do—try and exchange this book of yours for a Bible; who knows for what great things this same book of yours may serve?'

'Well, dear,' said the old woman, 'do as you please; I should like to see the—what do you call it?—Bible, and to read it, as you seem to think it true.'

'Yes,' said I, 'seem; that is the way to express yourself in this maze of doubt—I seem to think—these apples and pears seem to be—and here seems to be a gentleman who wants to purchase either one or the other.'

A person had stopped before the apple-woman's stall, and was glancing now at the fruit, now at the old woman and myself; he wore a blue mantle, and had a kind of fur cap on his head; he was somewhat above the middle stature; his features were keen, but rather hard; there was a slight obliquity in his vision. Selecting a small apple, he gave the old woman a penny; then, after looking at me scrutinisingly for a moment, he moved from the booth in the direction of Southwark.

'Do you know who that man is?' said I to the old woman.

'No,' said she, 'except that he is one of my best customers: he frequently stops, takes an apple, and gives me a penny; his is the only piece of money I have taken this blessed day. I don't know him, but he has once or twice sat down in the booth with two strange-looking men—Mulattos, or Lascars, I think they call them.'

Monday's Illustrated Word: untitled story by unknown writer (in English)

 art by Paul Gattuso - Captain Flight Comics #8 - Four Star Publications, May 1945.

 

 

 

 

Saturday's Good Reading: "Arder y Luego Irradiarte" by Mother Margarita Maria del Corazón Eucarístico de Jesús (in Spanish)

Arder y luego irradiarte
en silencio y puro amor
ante tu Cruz Redentora
cual “lamparita”, ¡Señor!
En favor de mis hermanos
que separados están
de tu Iglesia y tu Vicario,
de tu querida Unidad.
Hoy de nuevo me consagro
a tan santa ocupación,
ya que Tú me has confirmado
en mi”vocación” Señor.
Por tu Madre Inmaculada
la “Madre de la Unidad”
acelera ya la “hora”
como lo hiciste en Caná.

Friday's Sung Word: "Mamãe Não Quer" by Américo de Carvalho (in Portuguese).

Ai, eu não sei por quê
que mamãe não quer
que eu me case com você (bis)

A minha mãe me disse
p'rá eu não me casar
Deixar dessa tolice e
não te namorar (bis)

Contigo hei de casar,
não ligo o que ela diz
Eu vou me amarrar e
vou ser bem feliz (bis)

 

You can listen "Mamãe Não Quer" sung by Carmen Miranda here.

Thursday's Serial: "Babes in Toyland" by Glen MacDonough (in English) - the end.

 

ACT III

SCENE 1: Court yard of the palace of Justice.

Opening March: Tom Tom, Piper children, lady and male advocates. Populace on stage at opening. March of Court officials.

Tom - (on steps R) Hear ye! Hear ye! If one Master Alan be among ye, he is for the last time summoned to appear before the Court Royal to say why he shall not be condemned to die!

Bo-Peep - What has Master Alan done?

Tom - He is said to have slain the Master Toymaker. After his arrest he escaped.

Boy Blue - Was he alone guilty?

Tom - Many believe the Toymaker was killed by a band of strange beings who were seen rushing from the shop. The police can find no trace of them.

(Chorus exits to repeat of March. Tom Tom joins children)

Bo Peep - Oh, Tom Tom, how did Alan get himself in such a scrape?

Tom - I don't know. But it's very serious.

Red Riding Hood - Can we do anything to help him?

Tom - Help him in his flight, if you meet him. (enter Jane)

Jane - Tom Tom!

Tom - Jane! where in the world have you been? (they embrace)

Jane - All over looking for you.

Tom - And I've been doing the same! What a lucky day!

Jane - For us, but not for Alan.

Tom - Poor fellow, he is in trouble. Any news of him?

Jane - None. Contrary Mary is with him and they're trying to get out of Toyland together!

Tom - Without passports that will be hard to do.

Jane - Who accuses him of the Toymaker's death?

Tom - Only your uncle Barnaby!

Jane - The wicked old man! He's taken our money, now he wants our lives!

Tom - The Toymaker was the King's favorite subject. He has ordered the Court Royal to convict him without a hearing. But I must go. The Court is in session!

Jane - I will await you at the courthouse. You won't be long?

Tom - I'll count the minutes til I'm with you. I'm so glad I have you again. (Jane throws a kiss to him and exits.)

SONG NO. Tom. "MY CASTLE IN SPAIN" (Tom Tom exits end of song)

(after song Alan, Grumio, Jill and Mary enter up R. Alan is in comedy disguise, whiskers etc)

Alan - So far all right, nobody recognizes my disguise.

Mary - You can't blame them.

Jill - You don't look a bit like the police description.

Alan - No-one ever does.

Mary - Now for the last obstacle, the passports.

Grumio - There's the office, but the passport clerk is busy. You'll have to wait a few minutes.

Alan - Remember both of you, if anybody questions you about us, you're to be dumb!

Jill - We'll just be our own natural selves. (joins Grumio, they exeunt left)

(Uncle Barnaby enters unseen at back left, recognizes Mary and Alan)

Mary - If we get safely out of Toyland, where shall we go? (Barnaby exits R. at back)

Alan - To our home first. Then we'll get married and go abroad.

Mary - Where?

Alan - To a far away country that Jane and I visited after our shipwreck.

Mary - Is the country you're talking about a nice one for -- for young married people?

Alan - When young people marry they go to a place that's usually called Maple Heights. Because it's surrounded by willow trees.

Mary - Willow trees? We could plant a bed of onions right next to them and have weeping willows.

Alan - It's called the heights because it's on a prairie.

Mary - I know the place, the renting agents says it's five minutes from the station... that is if you travel by aeroplace.

Alan - Then a kind business man builds them a semi-colonial cottage on weekly payments. And after you've been married forty years then the Bond and Mortgage company takes it over.

Mary - And I suppose they fall in love just as we do, and they exchange all sorts of beautiful vows.

Alan - Before marriage?

Mary - And after?

Alan - It's quite the same as here and everywhere else.

SONG: "BEFORE AND AFTER":

(dialogue after 1st verse)

Alan - So you're keeping a budget? All I brought in the last year was one necktie. You have ordered 14 dresses, four pairs of shoes, one squirrel coat, without consulting ne.

Mary - Well, I have to wear them don't I?

Alan - Yes but I have to pay for them, don't I?

Mary - No, you don't. I haven't asked you for a single cent for a whole year. I have had everything charged.

(dialogue after 2nd verse)

Mary - How many times have I asked you not to read the newspaper at the breakfast table!?

Alan - What else is there around here interesting?

Mary - You never dared speak to me like that before we were married.

Alan - Well, before we were married you never came down to breakfast looking the way you do!

Mary - Mother always said you were a brute. Oh, why did I ever marry you?

Alan - So you're beginning to wonder too?

(dialogue after 3rd verse. Lights down. Then Alan and girl discovered at right of stage)

Girl - So your wife is always quarrelling with you?

Alan - Yes, every time I go out, she accuses me playing cards with my friends.

Girl - It was nice of you to take your secretary out, have a few cocktails and then go dancing...but how will you explain it to your wife?

Alan - There's only one way out of it - and that is to tell her the truth! Goodnight!

(lights out. Then Alan discovered at left with his wife)

Mary - And where have you been?

Alan - My dear I'm going to tell you the truth. I wanted a little relaxation, so I took my secretary out and we had some cocktails, and then we went to a night club.

Mary - Don't you try to fool me. You've been playing cards again! (slaps his face. Alan & Mary exeunt after song. Barnaby enters reading a paper)

Barnaby - So Alan objects to being tried by a court of nine judges? And he petitions to ask for an appointment of fifteen. He doesn't realize it's unconstitutional.

Mary – (enters and see Barnaby) Oh, it's you, is it?

Barnaby - (sneeringly) It's a fine morning for a wedding, Mistress Mary.

Mary - Whose wedding?

Barnaby - Ours. I'll be short and sweet with you, Mistress Mary! There's a marriage bureau next to the court-room-- (points off) and we'll be married there at once, or...

Mary - Or what?

Barnaby - I'll hand Alan over! (pointing L.) He's in there. I know his disguise. In a moment the Court Royal will condemn him for killing the Toymaker.

Mary - You wouldn't betray him?

Barnaby - (snivelling) It's my duty! He has disgraced the family. He's an assassin! But for your sweet sake I'll let him escape. (Mary tries to break away) No, you won't warn him. (Gonzorgo and Roderigo dressed as executioners, with brazier, ropes, pincers, enter from court-room with large legal document) What you have there?

Gonzorgo - A warrant to execute Alan, your scamp of a nephew!

Barnaby - (to Mary) You shall decide. Will you take his life, or my name?

Mary - Let me see that warrant! (reading) Rack--hot irons--pincers for my Alan! (throws warrant aside) Is it is to save Alan, I'll agree. Take me to the marriage bureau! (seizes Barnaby and rushes him off stage)

(enter Jane R. Piper and children on R. & L.)

Miss Jane - (seeing Gonzorgo and Roderigo) Why, when did you two start out as plumbers?

Gonzorgo - We're not plumbers, we're executioners. We know nothing about the business, it was influence and this is a political appointment.

Jane - You look like you belong to the Black legion!

Roderigo - We're amateurs at this rope business, but we'll soon get the hang of it! (exit Roderigo)

Jane - Has the court sent for you?

Gonzorgo - It has. We shall shortly fill our first order.

NOTE: (If you do not wish to do the song "We Won't Be Happy Till He Gets It" and you have no number to replace this, here is the lyrics of a song which could be set to music, and beginning with 3-8 dialogue would run:)

Jane - It will be Alan. But you will be cursed if you do anything to hurt him.

Gonzorgo - Cursed? Lady, we've been cursed by hard luck all our lives.

Jane - You don't know what hard luck is. I think one of my ancestors must have been Calamity Jane!

SONG: "MEET ME ON THE HARD LUCK MOON", Gonzorgo, Roderigo, and Jane

Gonzorgo - Oh, ever since I was a kid no matter what I said or did, You'd always find me in an awful boat.

Roderigo - And every photograph of me off in the background you would see Somebody always leading off my goat.

Gonzorgo - I'm great big mister easy mark, and life for me has been no lark I'm quite unhappy, sad as I can be.

Jane - Good luck for me has been real slow, and I have had my share of woe, Just like an undertaker's jubilee.

Chorus: Meet me under the hard luck moon,

Down by the lemon tree.

Where the blackbirds keep on singing,

Hoodoo songs off key.

Where skies are blue,

And breezes sigh,

In such a mournful tune,

We'll have a grand old kill-joy time,

Under the hard luck moon.

(all three dance with ensemble.)

Jane - It will be Alan. Boys and girls, this coward will kill Alan. Don't let him. (Pipers threaten Gonzorgo)

Simon - We won't. We will never let you live to do this.

Gonzorgo - Young man, don't you dare lay hands on an officer of the law!

Jane - Prepare a chair for him. (Gonzorgo is placed on high chair) We are going to make it warm for you.

Song:"HE WON'T BE HAPPY TILL HE GETS IT." (Jane and Pipers with Chorus. With possible Specialty of Gonzorgo, Roderigo. and Jane. All exit at the end of Number)

(enter Barnaby followed by Mary)

Barnaby - Now, Mrs. Barnaby, we'll hear your sweetheart's sentence.

Mary - I've just heard mine. (enter Alan with crowd. Enter Tom Tom on stage of house)

Tom - (reading from document) Hear ye! Hear ye! The Court Royal herewith finds the outlaw, Alan, guilty of the Master Toymaker's death and orders that he be executed in the manner prescribed by law, when found....

Barnaby - I'll do my duty as a good citizen and a relative as well. There is the criminal! (tears whiskers from Alan's face. A general start and exclamation)

Alan - Who is this villain?

Barnaby - Your unhappy uncle! Take him, he has disgraced me enough. Now, let the sentence be carried out.

Tom - Wait!

Alan - Yes, wait! (to Barnaby) You give me back my whiskers! (tries to seize them)

Tom - (reads) I have not finished. He shall be executed in the manner prescribed by the law when found--unless he takes advantage of the law which gives every condemned man the right to plead the benefit of widow."

Mary and Alan - The benefit of widow?

Tom - An ancient law of Toyland, meant to assist deserving class of subjects.

Alan - What is the benefit of widow?

Tom - Any widow, may claim a condemned man for her second husband, and he shall be free as long as he supports said widow and saves her from becoming a charge upon the state.

Alan - And may the victim choose the widow?

Tom - Some have preferred the gallows. Do you claim the benefit?

Alan - (moves toward Mary) No, I'll die rather than marry anybody but Contrary Mary.

Barnaby - (grinning) If you mean Mrs. Barnaby, you're a little bit late.

Alan - (astonished) You? Mrs. Barnaby?

Mary - Alan, he recognized you, but he swore to let you escape if I married him at once!

Alan - I'll plead that benefit. Bring on your widows. I'll marry and live!

Tom - Let the court heralds summon the widows of our city.

Mary - (to Alan) Courage, somebody will surely choose you.

Alan - It's so undignified. I feel like a prize at a grab bag party.

Tom - Don't despair, old man, some widow will surely find you worth taking.

Mary - (indignantly) You needn't speak of him as though he were a marked down remnant.

Alan - To think that we're parted forever!

Mary - Not forever. (looking at Barnaby) The joyful day may soon arrive when they'll expect me to wear crape for that!

Alan - A joyful day indeed! I'll ride with you in the first carriage, and on the way to the cemetary I'll propose to you!

Barnaby - Then here's where I give up smoking and go in for physical culture. As soon as I've engaged places on the coach, my dear, we'll depart upon our honeymoon. (exits L. chuckling) Remember, the sentence will be carried out if a widow does not choose you in fifteen minutes.

Alan - Don't worry. I'm liable to be killed in the rush! (exit chorus)

Tom - I'll hurry them along. (exits up R)

Alan - All right. Tell the widows I'm the latest thing in imported husbands!

Mary - Alan, will you do me a teeny-weeny favor? As you've got to marry in order to live, I wish you'd marry to please me.

Alan - How can I marry somebody else to please you?

Mary - Don't marry anybody who'll make you forget me.

SONG, if required. Used or not, then continue)

Mary - But remember, if a dashing widow should claim you, don't accept.

Alan - No.

Mary - But if one with a bad temper, and a squeaky voice should claim you, it would make me feel very restful.

Alan - How about me, I need a little rest myself.

Mary - Every time you looked at her, I know you'd think of me!

(Tom Tom enters right)

Tom - The merry widows are here, although they are not all so merry.

Mary - Are they pretty?

Tom - They're a group of dreams.

Mary - I'll leave you. Remember, nothing attractive, nothing that will take me from your thoughts! For one second. (exits L. To a strain of music the widows enter.)

Tom - Here they are, my boy! Now turn on your best personality.

Alan - If they're going to propose to me, I won't know what to say, except this is all so sudden.

Tom - Don't hesitate, girls. The one who speaks first gets him. (enters into Courthouse.)

Alan - Well, ladies, the auction bargain sale is going to begin. Here I am, the answer to any widow's prayer. Will anyone start off the bidding. (turns to first.) How about you, lady?

1st Widow - Do you think that all marriages are happy?

Alan - All marriages are happy, it's the living together after marriage that causes all the trouble.

1st Widow - Before we were married, my husband said he would die for me. And after marriage he was kind enough to do it!

Alan - Ah! Lady Dracula speaking! I hope I don't get an offer from you.

2nd Widow - My next husband must be strong, silent, full of grit, -- able to bear the burden of the day! He will not hear a word said about me, and he will utter no unkind word.

Alan - What you want is a deaf and dumb coal heaver!

3d Widow - When I was married I didn't do as well as I expected. And to tell you the truth I don't think he did either. I've been married twice, but I think every widow's entitled to her third.

Alan - I think you're frank anyway, and you seem to have an even temper.

3d Widow - Yes, my temper's even, always the same --very nasty!

Alan - I believe you're deliberately falsifying it. How did your last husband happen to die?--

3rd Widow - Oh, I suppose he thought it was the best way out!

Alan - I hope you don't claim me. (turns to 4^th Widow) How about you, lady?

4th Widow - The first month I was married, we lived in a bungalow, called "Ye Lovey Dovey Cot"

Alan - I suppose you changed that afterward to "Ye Battling Arena".

5th Widow - My husband was a dentist with a sense of humor. But he pulled too many good ones.

Alan - He must have been very easily tickled.

5th Widow - Yes, he was so ticklish, he couldn't touch his ribs - he had to have them dry-cleaned. But he left me a large fortune.

Alan - Step into my office, I want to talk to you. (takes her aside. Converses pantomime. Widows surround Alan, and he walks to steps, they follow him) I'll take all your offers into consideration. And you may hear from me later. -- But I doubt it. (exits into court house)

1st Widow - The trouble with you merry widows is, you make love in slow waltz time. You'd better all pop up and start to swing.

THE WIDOWS DANCE (The Merry Widow Waltz played in swing-time was done by Abe Lyman and Paul Whiteman and is very effective) They dance to an exit.

(Tom Tom enters followed by Alan from court house)

Tom - Gone! Alan, the widows have gone without claiming you!

Alan - Guess I didn't appear to be as advertised. (Gonzorgo and Roderigo enter up L)

Gonzorgo - (with pincers) Shall we proceed?

Tom - Wait till I return. There's one more chance! (exit up R)

Gonzorgo - (to Roderigo) I wonder if he'll help us.

Roderigo - Try him.

Gonzorgo - (to Alan) We're in a very embarrassing position.

Roderigo - And you only can save us from becoming perfectly ridiculous. When we start to execute you, everybody is liable to laugh at us.

Alan - I won't!

Gonzorgo - If they find we're not regular executioners, we'll lose the job.

Alan - How can I help you?

Gonzorgo - Since you've got to leave this cold, hard world, will you allow us to send you our way? (touching warrant) It'll be so much pleasanter than this.

Alan - I'll go your way.

Roderigo - Wise boy. Now what would you like in the way of a farewell luncheon. It'll be your very last. Have anything you like.

Alan - I'd like a dish of strawberries.

Roderigo - But strawberries won't be in season for 6 months!

Alan - That's all right, I'll wait.

Roderigo - No, now is your time. But I can give you a glass of strawberry wine.

Roderigo - With a dash of this in it. (Shows black phial)

Alan - (taking phial) Why, it's poison!

Roderigo - Four drops of that in your wine...

Roderigo - Just before you start for the scafford...

Roderigo - And you'll go into a dreadless sleep.

Alan - Go ahead! I haven't anything to lose. Except my life. (Judges, Attendants, widows chorus enter. Jane also)

Jane - Alan, are you living yet?

Alan - Yes, but in a few minutes, I will be not yet. (Tom Tom enters up R. with Widow Piper)

Tom - Stop! Here's another widow! Mother, make Alan our step-father and save his life!

Piper Children - Go ahead ma!

Widow Piper - I can't. It's too late. I'm married.

Tom - Married? You said you'd never marry anybody but a hare!

(enter Marmaduke. he goes to Widow)

Widow - And here he is!

Mary - And what made him a hare?

Widow - He dined at a night club, and he dared to go without tipping the waiter. (BARNABY enters)

Barnaby - Now, Mary my dear--what's this?

Alan - The end of your nephew.

Barnaby - Too bad, too bad. I'm very sorry. (all turn away from him) It was my duty. I had to do it. I really had to...Such treatment is hard to bear... (his eyes fall on the tray with the wine glass)

Without help. At such a time as this I need encouragement. (taking glass, drains it) Oh! Oh!

(All turn. He falls into the arms of Gonzorgo and Roderigo... who carry him off stage)

All - What's the matter?

Alan - He has drunk the wine that was intended for me.

(Tom Tom enters)

Tom - Mrs. Barnaby you're a widow!

All - A widow?

Tom - Excessive grief has taken Uncle Barnaby from us.

Mary - Then Alan is saved! I am a widow, and under your laws I claim him as my husband!

Alan - Mary!

FINALE.

END OF PLAY.