First Plays Part 54
You’re reading novel First Plays Part 54 online at LightNovelFree.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit LightNovelFree.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy!
MOTHER (resigned). Pray, sir, come in and tell us all about it. I see that we must have your tale.
TALKER. To be exact, Madame, I have two tails who follow me about everywhere. One is of my own poor s.e.x, a man, a thing of whiskers; the other has the honour to belong to that s.e.x which--have I said it?--you and Mademoiselle so adorn. Have I your ladys.h.i.+p's permission?
DAUGHTER (eagerly). Oh, Mother, let them come.
MOTHER. Well, I suppose I must have you all.
TALKER (with a bow). Madame, I shall never forget this. Though I live to be ninety-three, this will always be engraved upon my memory. My grandchildren climbing upon my knee will wonder sometimes of what the old man is thinking. Little will they know--But I will attend you further within. [He bows and disappears.]
DAUGHTER. Mother, something _is_ going to happen at last.
MOTHER. Oh, child, were you as weary as that?
[The TALKER comes in at the door, followed by the SINGER and the FIDDLER. The SINGER is a pleasant-looking man of middle height, the FIDDLER a tall, silent girl. The TALKER himself is short and round, with a twinkling eye. Each wears a cap with a red feather in it.]
TALKER. Madame, your humble and most devoted servants. I have the honour to present to you her Royal Sweetness the Princess Carissima, His Flutiness the Duke of Bogota, and myself a mere Marquis.
DAUGHTER. Oh, Mother, they're wandering minstrels.
MOTHER. I bid you all welcome, sir.
TALKER. Permit me to expound further. The Princess--a courtesy t.i.tle bestowed by myself last Michaelmas Day--plays upon the fiddle with an unerring beauty which makes strong men weep. You shall hear her. I pray you have your handkerchers ready. His Flutiness the Duke--the t.i.tle was granted last Candlemas--has a voice of a rare richness. He is cursed with a melancholy disposition most pleasing. He suffers from a surfeit of rejected love. A most waggish companion withal.
DAUGHTER. Oh, what a shame!
SINGER. You must not believe all that Johannes says, ladies.
MOTHER. I had already learnt that much, sir.
TALKER. For myself, I play upon the pipe. You shall hear. (He plays "cuckoo" with an air.)
SINGER. The only notes he knows, ladies.
TALKER (indignantly). Oh, fie, Sir, fie! I protest, Madame, he maligns me. Have I not a G of surpa.s.sing splendour, of a fruitiness rarely encountered in this vale of tears? Madame, you must hear my G. Now, where is it? (He arranges his fingers with great care on the pipe.) I have it. (He blows a G, and bows deeply first to MOTHER and then to DAUGHTER.)
SINGER. Marvellous!
MOTHER (to TALKER). I thank you, Sir.
DAUGHTER. Oh, Mother, isn't he splendid?
TALKER (to MOTHER). Would you like my G again, Madame?
MOTHER. Not just now, I thank you, sir. Doubtless we shall feel more in need of it a little later on. But tell me, Sir, have you no other talent to match the singing and playing of your friends?
FIDDLER. He talks.
MOTHER. I had noticed it.
TALKER. This gift of talking with which her Royal Sweetness is good enough to credit me, irksome though it is to a man of silent habit like myself, a creature, as you will have noticed, of taciturn disposition; this--I--(Frankly) Madame, I have lost that sentence. Have I your gracious permission to begin again?
MOTHER. I think it would be better, Sir.
TALKER. Then, to put it shortly, Madame--
MOTHER. If you could, sir.
TALKER. To be completely frank in this matter, Madame, I--er--go round with the hat. It is a sordid but necessary business.
DAUGHTER (eagerly). Oh, I hope they give you plenty of money.
TALKER. Enough to support life, Mademoiselle. The hungry look which you observe upon His Flutiness is, as I have explained, due to melancholy.
DAUGHTER. You are going to perform, aren't you?
TALKER. Of a surety, Mademoiselle. Perhaps I should add that for myself I am resting just now, and that my part of the performance will be limited to nothing more than a note or two upon the pipe.
MOTHER (with a friendly smile). Sir, you are generous. We shall be glad to hear your friends.
(The TALKER bows and turns to his company.)
TALKER. A song, good Master Duke, a song which her Royal Sweetness will accompany upon the fiddle. Let it end, I pray you, with a G, so that I may bring the thing to a climax upon the last note.
FIDDLER (to SINGER). Morland Hill.
SINGER. You like that? (She nods.) Very well. (He sings.)
Oh, when the wind is in the North, I take my staff and sally forth; And when it whistles from the East I do not mind it in the least; The warm wind murmurs through the trees Its messages from Southern seas; But after all perhaps the best Is that which whispers from the West.
Oh let the wind, the wind be what it will, So long as I may walk on Morland Hill!
The staff which helps to carry me, I cut it from the Hazel-tree; But once I had a cudgel torn Most circ.u.mspectly from the Thorn; I know a fellow, far from rash, Who swears entirely by the Ash; And all good travellers invoke A blessing on the mighty Oak.
Oh let the wood, the wood be what it will, So long as I may walk on Morland Hill!
Some years ago I gave my heart To Prue until we had to part; Then, seeing Susan's pretty face, I left it with her for a s.p.a.ce; And Susan had my heart until I wanted it for Mistress Jill; I think, although I am not clear, That Chloe's had it this last year.
Oh let the wench, the wench be whom you will, So long as I may walk on Morland Hill!
(The TALKER comes in proudly on the last note and takes most of the applause.)
DAUGHTER. I'm not sure that I like that last verse.
TALKER. Oh, you mustn't believe all he sings. A cursed melancholy fellow by nature. But waggish--waggish withal.
SINGER (to DAUGHTER). We have to sing what the poets write for us, Mademoiselle. Had I written a song myself, it had been about one woman only.
TALKER. And there would have been a hundred and twenty-five verses to it.
First Plays Part 54
You're reading novel First Plays Part 54 online at LightNovelFree.com. You can use the follow function to bookmark your favorite novel ( Only for registered users ). If you find any errors ( broken links, can't load photos, etc.. ), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible. And when you start a conversation or debate about a certain topic with other people, please do not offend them just because you don't like their opinions.
First Plays Part 54 summary
You're reading First Plays Part 54. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: A. A. Milne already has 772 views.
It's great if you read and follow any novel on our website. We promise you that we'll bring you the latest, hottest novel everyday and FREE.
LightNovelFree.com is a most smartest website for reading novel online, it can automatic resize images to fit your pc screen, even on your mobile. Experience now by using your smartphone and access to LightNovelFree.com
- Related chapter:
- First Plays Part 53
- First Plays Part 55