Fragments of an Aristophanic Melodrama
Orestes: You don't see them, you don't – but I see them: they are hunting me down, I must move on.
Choephoroi.
Hence the soul cannot be possessed of the divine union, until it has divested itself of the love of created beings.
St. John of the Cross.
Fragment of a Prologue
DUSTY. DORIS.
DUSTY: How about Pereira?
DORIS: What about Pereira?
I don't care.
DUSTY: You don't care!
Who pays the rent?
DORIS: Yes he pays the rent
DUSTY: Well some men don't and some men do
Some men don't and you know who
DORIS: You can have Pereira
DUSTY: What about Pereira?
DORIS: He's no gentleman, Pereira:
You can't trust him!
DUSTY: Well that's true.
He's no gentleman if you can't trust him
And if you can't trust him –
Then you never know what he's going to do.
DORIS: No it wouldn't do to be too nice to Pereira.
DUSTY: Now Sam's a gentleman through and through.
DORIS: I like Sam
DUSTY: I like Sam
Yes and Sam's a nice boy too.
He's a funny fellow
DORIS: He is a funny fellow
He's like a fellow once I knew.
He could make you laugh.
DUSTY: Sam can make you laugh:
Sam's all right
DORIS: But Pereira won't do.
We can't have Pereira
DUSTY: Well what you going to do?
TELEPHONE: Ting a ling ling
Ting a ling ling
DUSTY: That's Pereira
DORIS: Yes that's Pereira
DUSTY: Well what you going to do?
TELEPHONE: Ting a ling ling
Ting a ling ling
DUSTY: That's Pereira
DORIS: Well can't you stop that horrible noise?
Pick up the receiver
DUSTY: What'll I say?
DORIS: Say what you like: say I'm ill,
Say I broke my leg on the stairs
Say we've had a fire
DUSTY: Hello Hello are you there?
Yes this is Miss Dorrance's flat –
Oh Mr. Pereira is that you? how do you do!
Oh I'm so sorry. I am so sorry
But Doris came home with a terrible chill
No, just a chill
Oh I think it's only a chill
Yes indeed I hope so too –
Well I hope we shan't have to call a doctor
Doris just hates having a doctor
She says will you ring up on Monday
She hopes to be all right on Monday
I say do you mind if I ring off now
She's got her feet in mustard and water
I said I'm giving her mustard and water
All right, Monday you'll phone through.
Yes I'll tell her. Good bye. Goooood bye.
I'm sure, that's very kind of you.
Ah-h-h
DORIS: Now I'm going to cut the cards for to-night.
Oh guess what the first is
DUSTY: First is. What is?
DORIS: The King of Clubs
DUSTY: That's Pereira
DORIS: It might be Sweeney
DUSTY: It's Pereira
DORIS: It might just as well be Sweeney
DUSTY: Well anyway it's very queer.
DORIS: Here's the four of diamonds, what's that mean?
DUSTY: (reading) 'A small sum of money, or a present
Of wearing apparel, or a party'.
That's queer too.
DORIS: Here's the three. What's that mean?
DUSTY: 'News of an absent friend'. – Pereira!
DORIS: The Queen of Hearts! – Mrs. Porter!
DUSTY: Or it might be you
DORIS: Or it might be you
We're all hearts. You can't be sure.
It just depends on what comes next.
You've got to think when you read the cards,
It's not a thing that anyone can do.
DUSTY: Yes I know you've a touch with the cards
What comes next?
DORIS: What comes next. It's the six.
DUSTY: 'A quarrel. An estrangement. Separation of friends'.
DORIS: Here's the two of spades.
DUSTY: The two of spades!
THAT'S THE COFFIN!!
DORIS: THAT'S THE COFFIN?
Oh good heavens what'll I do?
Just before a party too!
DUSTY: Well it needn't be yours, it may mean a friend.
DORIS: No it's mine. I'm sure it's mine.
I dreamt of weddings all last night.
Yes it's mine. I know it's mine.
Oh good heavens what'll I do.
Well I'm not going to draw any more,
You cut for luck. You cut for luck.
It might break the spell. You cut for luck.
DUSTY: The Knave of Spades.
DORIS: That'll be Snow
DUSTY: Or it might be Swarts
DORIS: Or it might be Snow
DUSTY: It's a funny thing how I draw court cards –
DORIS: There's a lot in the way you pick them up
DUSTY: There's an awful lot in the way you feel
DORIS: Sometimes they'll tell you nothing at all
DUSTY: You've got to know what you want to ask them
DORIS: You've got to know what you want to know
DUSTY: It's no use asking them too much
DORIS: It's no use asking more than once
DUSTY: Sometimes they're no use at all.
DORIS: I'd like to know about that coffin.
DUSTY: Well I never! What did I tell you?
Wasn't I saying I always draw court cards?
The Knave of Hearts!
(Whistle outside of the window.)
Well I never
What a coincidence! Cards are queer!
(Whistle again.)
DORIS: Is that Sam?
DUSTY: Of course it's Sam!
DORIS: Of course, the Knave of Hearts is Sam!
DUSTY: (leaning out of the window): Hello Sam!
WAUCHOPE: Hello dear
How many's up there?
DUSTY: Nobody's up here
How many's down there?
WAUCHOPE: Four of us here.
Wait till I put the car round the corner
We'll be right up
DUSTY: All right, come up.
DUSTY: (to DORIS): Cards are queer.
DORIS: I'd like to know about that coffin.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
DORIS. DUSTY. WAUCHOPE. HORSFALL. KLIPSTEIN. KRUMPACKER
WAUCHOPE: Hello Doris! Hello Dusty! How do you do!
How come? how come? will you permit me –
I think you girls both know Captain Horsfall –
We want you to meet two friends of ours,
American gentlemen here on business.
Meet Mr. Klipstein. Meet Mr. Krumpacker.
KLIPSTEIN: How do you do
KRUMPACKER: How do you do
KLIPSTEIN: I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance
KRUMPACKER: Extremely pleased to become acquainted
KLIPSTEIN: Sam – I should say Loot Sam Wauchope
KRUMPACKER: Of the Canadian Expeditionary Force –
KLIPSTEIN: The Loot has told us a lot about you.
KRUMPACKER: We were all in the war together
Klip and me and the Cap and Sam.
KLIPSTEIN: Yes we did our bit, as you folks say,
I'll tell the world we got the Hun on the run
KRUMPACKER: What about that poker game? eh what Sam?
What about that poker game in Bordeaux?
Yes Miss Dorrance you get Sam
To tell about that poker game in Bordeaux.
DUSTY: Do you know London well, Mr. Krumpacker?
KLIPSTEIN: No we never been here before
KRUMPACKER: We hit this town last night for the first time
KLIPSTEIN: And I certainly hope it won't be the last time.
DORIS: You like London, Mr. Klipstein?
KRUMPACKER: Do we like London? do we like London!
Do we like London!! Eh what Klip?
KLIPSTEIN: Say, Miss – er – uh – London's swell.
We like London fine.
KRUMPACKER: Perfectly slick.
DUSTY: Why don't you come and live here then?
KLIPSTEIN: Well, no, Miss – er – you haven't quite got it
(I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name –
But I'm very pleased to meet you all the same) –
London's a little too gay for us
Yes I'll say a little too gay.
KRUMPACKER: Yes London's a little too gay for us
Don't think I mean anything coarse –
But I'm afraid we couldn't stand the pace.
What about it Klip?
KLIPSTEIN: You said it, Krum.
London's a slick place, London's a swell place,
London's a fine place to come on a visit –
KRUMPACKER: Specially when you got a real live Britisher
A guy like Sam to show you around.
Sam of course is at home in London,
And he's promised to show us around.
Fragment of an Agon
SWEENEY. WAUCHOPE. HORSFALL. KLIPSTEIN. KRUMPACKER. SWARTS. SNOW. DORIS. DUSTY.
SWEENEY: I'll carry you off
To a cannibal isle.
DORIS: You'll be the cannibal!
SWEENEY: You'll be the missionary!
You'll be my little seven stone missionary!
I'll gobble you up. I'll be the cannibal.
DORIS: You'll carry me off? To a cannibal isle?
SWEENEY: I'll be the cannibal.
DORIS: I'll be the missionary.
I'll convert you!
SWEENEY: I'll convert you!
Into a stew.
A nice little, white little, missionary stew.
DORIS: You wouldn't eat me!
SWEENEY: Yes I'd eat you!
In a nice little, white little, soft little, tender little,
Juicy little, right little, missionary stew.
You see this egg
You see this egg
Well that's life on a crocodile isle.
There's no telephones
There's no gramophones
There's no motor cars
No two-seaters, no six-seaters,
No Citroën, no Rolls-Royce.
Nothing to eat but the fruit as it grows.
Nothing to see but the palmtrees one way
And the sea the other way,
Nothing to hear but the sound of the surf.
Nothing at all but three things
DORIS: What things?
SWEENEY: Birth, and copulation and death.
That's all, that's all, that's all, that's all,
Birth, and copulation, and death.
DORIS: I'd be bored.
SWEENEY: You'd be bored.
Birth, and copulation, and death.
DORIS: I'd be bored.
SWEENEY: You'd be bored.
Birth, and copulation, and death.
That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death.
I've been born, and once is enough.
You don't remember, but I remember,
Once is enough.
SONG BY WAUCHOPE AND HORSFALL.
SWARTS AS TAMBO. SNOW AS BONES
Under the bamboo
Bamboo bamboo
Under the bamboo tree
Two live as one
One live as two
Two live as three
Under the bam
Under the boo
Under the bamboo tree.
Where the breadfruit fall
And the penguin call
And the sound is the sound of the sea
Under the bam
Under the boo
Under the bamboo tree
Where the Gauguin maids
In the banyan shades
Wear palmleaf drapery
Under the bam
Under the boo
Under the bamboo tree.
Tell me in what part of the wood
Do you want to flirt with me?
Under the breadfruit, banyan, palmleaf
Or under the bamboo tree?
Any old tree will do for me
Any old wood is just as good
Any old isle is just my style
Any fresh egg
Any fresh egg
And the sound of the coral sea.
DORIS: I don't like eggs; I never liked eggs;
And I don't like life on your crocodile isle.
SONG BY KLIPSTEIN AND KRUMPACKER.
SNOW AND SWARTS AS BEFORE
My little island girl
My little island girl
I'm going to stay with you
And we won't worry what to do
We won't have to catch any trains
And we won't go home when it rains
We'll gather hibiscus flowers
For it won't be minutes but hours
For it won't be hours but years
And the morning
And the evening
And noontide
diminuendo And night
Morning
Evening
Noontime
Night
DORIS: That's not life, that's no life
Why I'd just as soon be dead.
SWEENEY: That's what life is. Just is
DORIS: What is?
What's that life is?
SWEENEY: Life is death.
I knew a man once did a girl in –
DORIS: Oh Mr. Sweeney, please don't talk,
I cut the cards before you came
And I drew the coffin
SWARTS: You drew the coffin?
DORIS: I drew the COFFIN very last card.
I don't care for such conversation
A woman runs a terrible risk.
SNOW: Let Mr. Sweeney continue his story.
I assure you, Sir, we are very interested.
SWEENEY: I knew a man once did a girl in
Any man might do a girl in
Any man has to, needs to, wants to
Once in a lifetime, do a girl in.
Well he kept her there in a bath
With a gallon of lysol in a bath
SWARTS: These fellows always get pinched in the end.
SNOW: Excuse me, they don't all get pinched in the end.
What about them bones on Epsom Heath?
I seen that in the papers
You seen it in the papers
They don't all get pinched in the end.
DORIS: A woman runs a terrible risk.
SNOW: Let Mr. Sweeney continue his story.
SWEENEY: This one didn't get pinched in the end
But that's another story too.
This went on for a couple of months
Nobody came
And nobody went
But he took in the milk and he paid the rent,
SWARTS: What did he do?
All that time, what did he do?
SWEENEY: What did he do! what did he do?
That don't apply.
Talk to live men about what they do.
He used to come and see me sometimes
I'd give him a drink and cheer him up.
DORIS: Cheer him up?
DUSTY: Cheer him up?
SWEENEY: Well here again that don't apply
But I've gotta use words when I talk to you.
But here's what I was going to say.
He didn't know if he was alive
and the girl was dead
He didn't know if the girl was alive
and he was dead
He didn't know if they both were alive
or both were dead
If he was alive then the milkman wasn't
and the rent-collector wasn't
And if they were alive then he was dead.
There wasn't any joint
There wasn't any joint
For when you're alone
When you're alone like he was alone
You're either or neither
I tell you again it don't apply
Death or life or life or death
Death is life and life is death
I gotta use words when I talk to you
But if you understand or if you don't
That's nothing to me and nothing to you
We all gotta do what we gotta do
We're gona sit here and drink this booze
We're gona sit here and have a tune
We're gona stay and we're gona go
And somebody's gotta pay the rent
DORIS: I know who
SWEENEY: But that's nothing to me and nothing to you.
FULL CHORUS:
WAUCHOPE, HORSFALL, KLIPSTEIN, KRUMPACKER
When you're alone in the middle of the night and you wake in a sweat and a hell of a fright
When you're alone in the middle of the bed and you wake like someone hit you in the head
You've had a cream of a nightmare dream and you've got the hoo-ha's coming to you.
Hoo hoo hoo
You dreamt you waked up at seven o'clock and it's foggy and it's damp and it's dawn and it's dark
And you wait for a knock and the turning of a lock for you know the hangman's waiting for you.
And perhaps you're alive
And perhaps you're dead
Hoo ha ha
Hoo ha ha
Hoo
Hoo
Hoo
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
Coriolan
I. Triumphal March
Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels
Over the paving.
And the flags. And the trumpets. And so many eagles.
How many? Count them. And such a press of people.
We hardly knew ourselves that day, or knew the City.
This is the way to the temple, and we so many crowding the way.
So many waiting, how many waiting? what did it matter, on such a day?
Are they coming? No, not yet. You can see some eagles.
And hear the trumpets.
Here they come. Is he coming?
The natural wakeful life of our Ego is a perceiving.
We can wait with our stools and our sausages.
What comes first? Can you see? Tell us. It is
5,800,000 rifles and carbines,
102,000 machine guns,
28,000 trench mortars,
53,000 field and heavy guns,
I cannot tell how many projectiles, mines and fuses,
13,000 aeroplanes,
24,000 aeroplane engines,
50,000 ammunition waggons,
now 55,000 army waggons,
11,000 field kitchens,
1,150 field bakeries.
What a time that took. Will it be he now? No,
Those are the golf club Captains, these the Scouts,
And now the société gymnastique de Poissy
And now come the Mayor and the Liverymen. Look
There he is now, look:
There is no interrogation in his eyes
Or in the hands, quiet over the horse's neck,
And the eyes watchful, waiting, perceiving, indifferent.
Ο hidden under the dove's wing, hidden in the turtle's breast,
Under the palmtree at noon, under the running water
At the still point of the turning world. Ο hidden.
Now they go up to the temple. Then the sacrifice.
Now come the virgins bearing urns, urns containing
Dust
Dust
Dust of dust, and now
Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels
Over the paving.
This is all we could see. But how many eagles! and how many trumpets!
(And Easter Day, we didn't get to the country,
So we took young Cyril to church. And they rang a bell
And he said right out loud, crumpets.)
Don't throw away that sausage,
It'll come in handy. He's artful. Please, will you
Give us a light?
Light
Light
Et les soldats faisaient la haie? ILS LA FAISAIENT.
II. Difficulties of a Statesman
CRY what shall I cry?
All flesh is grass: comprehending
The Companions of the Bath, the Knights of the British Empire, the Cavaliers,
Ο Cavaliers! of the Legion of Honour,
The Order of the Black Eagle (1st and 2nd class),
And the Order of the Rising Sun.
Cry cry what shall I cry?
The first thing to do is to form the committees:
The consultative councils, the standing committees, select committees and sub-committees.
One secretary will do for several committees.
What shall I cry?
Arthur Edward Cyril Parker is appointed telephone operator
At a salary of one pound ten a week rising by annual increments of five shillings
To two pounds ten a week; with a bonus of thirty shillings at Christmas
And one week's leave a year.
A committee has been appointed to nominate a commission of engineers
To consider the Water Supply.
A commission is appointed
For Public Works, chiefly the question of rebuilding the fortifications.
A commission is appointed
To confer with a Volscian commission
About perpetual peace: the fletchers and javelin-makers and smiths
Have appointed a joint committee to protest against the reduction of orders.
Meanwhile the guards shake dice on the marches
And the frogs (O Mantuan) croak in the marshes.
Fireflies flare against the faint sheet lightning
What shall I cry?
Mother mother
Here is the row of family portraits, dingy busts, all looking remarkably Roman,
Remarkably like each other, lit up successively by the flare
Of a sweaty torchbearer, yawning.
Ο hidden under the … Hidden under the … Where the dove's foot rested and locked for a moment,
A still moment, repose of noon, set under the upper branches of noon's widest tree
Under the breast feather stirred by the small wind after noon
There the cyclamen spreads its wings, there the clematis droops over the lintel,
Ο mother (not among these busts, all correctly inscribed)
I a tired head among these heads
Necks strong to bear them
Noses strong to break the wind
Mother
May we not be some time, almost now, together,
If the mactations, immolations, oblations, impetrations,
Are now observed
May we not be
Ο hidden
Hidden in the stillness of noon, in the silent croaking night.
Come with the sweep of the little bat's wing, with the small flare of the firefly or lightning bug,
'Rising and falling, crowned with dust', the small creatures,
The small creatures chirp thinly through the dust, through the night.
Ο mother
What shall I cry?
We demand a committee, a representative committee, a committee of investigation
RESIGN RESIGN RESIGN
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