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Read Ebook: Histoires incroyables Tome II by Lermina Jules
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Ebook has 893 lines and 46946 words, and 18 pages
POOR JACK
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
PRIVATELY PRINTED RICHMOND 1906
"There are some ghosts," said poor Jack, "that will not easily bear raising...."
Thus am I confounded by words of my own choosing, for in truth I have raised one; and not for me, as for Dame Sylvia, does Chivalry blow upon a silver horn to drown the squeakings of that folly. Which is merely another way of saying that those younglings we two know and love, and who fretted me into the writing of a play for their theatricals, have rejected the outcome after a tentative rehearsal, with certain remarks for my pondering.
With such humility as becomes one of our soberer estate in the presence of these, our juniors and betters, I pointed out that it was not my fault, assuredly, that Falstaff was no longer the merry taker of purses whose roaring oaths had filled all Gadshill. Nor that Will had never displayed any very hearty admiration for humanity nor found many more commendable traits in general exercise among its individuals than did the authors of the Bible: a spirit which, however distasteful to my palate, I was obliged in this instance to emulate! Yet I dared think that old, gross and decayed as he had grown, the demiurge still clings to the old reprobate; yea, and the aura of divinity to Helen, whose beauty is drifting dust, so that Falstaff sees before him not Sylvia Vernon but Sylvia Darke.
Poor Falstaff. "Were't not for laughing I should pity him!"
But they had since ceased to listen. Vanished were they like the merry company whose mere names, thought Falstaff, were like a breath of country air. My script lay before me, eloquent in naught but their disillusion. Alone, I thought the fire winked knowingly at me, much like the one I had fanned from the embers of the past, as if it said: How old must a man become 'ere he shall be wise enough to content these sure young critics, so awfully and so inevitably right?
I should have dropped the record of my folly into the flames and so played out the last scene in my puppet's stead, had I not remembered in time my promise to you. Well!--you had expected to receive it worn from the caresses of eager thumbs, scented perhaps with the bouquet of reverent applause. It comes to you fresh and unmarred by any defacing ardor; only its theme is sere, only its author's vanity thumb-marked!
And remember: 'tis not a play you give to the world but rather a spirit croaking to itself in a house where nobody has lived for a long time.
CAST
POOR JACK
FALSTAFF
Then came the Bold Sir Caradoc--Ah, Mistress what news?--and eke Sir Pellinore--Did I rage last night, Bardolph? Was I a Bedlamite?
BARDOLPH
As mine own bruises can testify. Had each one of them a tongue they would raise a clamor beside which Babel were an heir weeping for his rich uncle's death; their testimony would qualify you for any mad-house in England. And if their evidence go against the doctor's stomach, the watchman at the corner hath three teeth--or rather, hath them no longer, since you knocked them out last night, that will willingly aid him to digest it.
FALSTAFF
BARDOLPH
Indeed Sir, I doubt....
FALSTAFF
Doubt not, Sirrah! Was not the apostle reproved for that same sin? Thou art a Didymus, Bardolph,--an incredulous paynim, a most unspeculative rogue. Have I carracks trading in the Indies? Have I robbed the exchequer of late? Have I the Golden Fleece for a cloak? Nay, it is a paltry gimlet, and that augurs badly. Why does this knavish watchman take me for a raven to feed him in the wilderness? Tell him that there are no such ravens hereabouts; else I had ravenously limed the house-tops and sets springes in the gutters. Inform him that my purse is no better lined than his own broken skull; it is void as a beggar's protestations, or a butcher's stall in Lent; light as a famished gnat, or the sighing of a new-made widower; more empty than a last year's bird's nest, than a madman's eye, or, in fine, than the friendship of a king.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
But you have wealthy friends, Sir John. Yes I warrant you Sir John. Sir John, you have a many wealthy friends; you cannot deny that, Sir John.
FALSTAFF
I have no friends since Hal is King. I had I grant you, a few score of acquaintances whom I taught to play at dice; paltry young blades of the City, very unfledged juvenals! Setting my knighthood and my valor aside, if I did swear friendship with these, I did swear to a lie. But this is a censorious and muddy-minded world, so that, look you, even these sprouting aldermen, these foul, bacon-fed rogues, have fled my friendship of late, and my reputation hath grown somewhat more murky than Erebus. No matter! I walk alone as one that hath the pestilence. No matter! But I grow old, I am not in the vanward of my youth, Mistress.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Indeed, I do not know what your worship will do.
FALSTAFF
Faith! unless the Providence that watches over the fall of a sparrow hath an eye to the career of Sir John Falstaff, Knight, and so comes to my aid shortly, I must need convert my last doublet into a mask and turn highwayman in my shirt. I can take purses yet, ye Uzzite comforters, as gaily as I did at Gadshill, where that scurvy Poins, and he that is now King, and some twoscore other knaves did afterward assault me in the dark; yet I peppered some of them I warrant you.
BARDOLPH
You must be rid of me then, Master. I for one have no need of a hempen collar.
FALSTAFF
I, too, would be loth to break the gallow's back. For fear of halters, we must alter our way of living; we must live close, Bardolph, till the wars make us Croesuses or food for crows. And if Hal but hold to his bias, there will be wars: I will eat a piece of my sword, if he hath not need of it shortly. Ah, go thy ways, tall Jack; there live not three good men in England and one of them is fat, and grows old. We must live close, Bardolph, we must forswear drinking and wenching! But there is lime in this sack, you rogue, give me another cup.
FALSTAFF
I pray you hostess, remember that Doll Tearsheet sups with me tonight; have a capon of the best and be not sparing of your wine. I will repay you, upon honor, when we young fellows return from France, all laden with rings and brooches and such trumperies like your Norfolkshire pedlars at Christmas-tide. We will sack a town for you, and bring you back the Lord Mayor's beard to stuff you a cushion; the Dauphin shall be your tapster yet: we will walk on lilies, I warrant you to the tune of "hey then, up go we."
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Indeed, Sir, your worship is as welcome to my pantry as the mice--a pox on them--think themselves; you are heartily welcome. Ah, well, old Puss is dead; I had her of Goodman Quickly these ten years since;--but I had thought that you looked for the lady who was here but now;--she was a roaring lion among the mice.
FALSTAFF
What Lady? Was it Flint the Mercer's wife, think you? Ah, she hath a liberal disposition, and will, without the aid of Prince Houssain's carpet or the horse of Cambuscan, transfer the golden shining pieces from her husband's coffers to mine.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
No mercer's wife, I think. She came with two patched footmen and smelled of gentility;--Master Dumbleton's father was a mercer; but he had red hair;--she is old;--and I could never abide red hair.
FALSTAFF
No matter! I can love this lady, be she a very Witch of Endor. Observe what a thing it is to be a proper man, Bardolph! She hath marked me;--in public, perhaps; on the street, it may be;--and then, I warrant you, made such eyes! and sighed such sighs! and lain awake o' nights, thinking of a pleasing portly gentleman, whom, were I not modesty's self, I might name;--and I, all this while, not knowing! Fetch me my book of riddles and my sonnets, that I may speak smoothly. Why was my beard not combed this morning? No matter, it will serve. Have I no better cloak than this?
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Come, but your worship must begin with unwashed hands, for old Madame Wishfor't and her two country louts are even now at the door.
FALSTAFF
Avaunt, minions. Avaunt! Conduct the lady hither, hostess; Bardolph another cup of sack. We will ruffle it, lad, and go to France all gold like Midas! Are mine eyes too red? I must look sad, you know, and sigh very pitifully. Ah, we will ruffle it! Another cup of sack, Bardolph;--I am a rogue if I have drunk to-day. And avaunt! vanish! for the lady comes! est accus? d'avoir, dans la soir?e du 23 avril, volontairement et avec pr?m?ditation, donn? la mort ? Defodon , crime pr?vu et puni..., etc.>>
Les d?ductions de l'acte d'accusation parurent si concluantes ? l'assistance que, de prime abord, l'opinion fut form?e, et le murmure contenu qui s'?leva indiqua une sorte de d?sappointement. On s'?tait attendu ? des d?tails plus ?mouvants; le bruit qui avait couru de d?n?gations persistantes de l'accus? avait fait esp?rer des complications inextricables. On se trouvait au contraire en face d'un crime banal; l'?l?ment amour, si puissant dans les causes judiciaires, ?tait en quelque sorte rel?gu? au second plan par l'indignit? du sujet, dont le nom de Gangrelot avait excit? quelques sourires. L'attitude de l'accus? n'?tait point d'ailleurs de nature ? ?veiller les sympathies. Il avait ?cout? l'acte d'accusation sans un geste, sans un mouvement quelconque d'?motion. Deux ou trois fois seulement on l'avait vu sourire et m?me hausser imperceptiblement les ?paules. Puis, peu ? peu son visage avait pris une expression d'insouciante assurance. Le v?ritable d?faut de cette physionomie ?tait dans l'absence de tout caract?re frappant et original.
Les dames qui fr?quentent les cours d'assises aiment ? trouver dans les traits du coupable quelque singularit? en sens quelconque. L'abruti f?roce ?tonne et effraye; l'homme fatal int?resse; le fanfaron exasp?re; mais se peut-on int?resser ? un assassin qui n'effraye ni n'exasp?re?
L'interrogatoire de l'accus? commen?a: il r?pondait ? voix basse; son accent ?tait ferme, sans aucun ?clat. D?cid?ment cet homme ?tait l'insignifiance m?me.
LE PR?SIDENT.--Expliquez-nous ce qui s'est pass? le 23 avril?
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