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Touch and Go: A Play in 2 Acts, a play by D. H. Lawrence |
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Act 2 - Scene 1 |
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_ SCENE: Evening of the same day. Drawing-room at Lilly Close. MR. BARLOW, GERALD, WINIFRED, ANABEL OLIVER present. Butler pours coffee.
ANABEL. Practically. But I was born at Derby. MR. BARLOW. I was born in this house--but it was a different affair GERALD. A quarter to nine, father. MR. BARLOW. Not late yet. I can sit with you another half-hour. I WINIFRED. Something jolly, father? MR. BARLOW. Very jolly, darling. WINIFRED. I'll sing "The Lincolnshire Poacher," shall I? MR. BARLOW. Do, darling, and we'll all join in the chorus.--Will you ANABEL. I will. It is a good song. MR. BARLOW. Yes, isn't it! WINIFRED. All dance for the chorus, as well as singing.
WINIFRED. I do love to dance about. I know: let us do a little GERALD. What ballet, Winifred? WINIFRED. Any. Eva can play for us. She plays well. MR. BARLOW. You won't disturb your mother? Don't disturb Eva if GERALD. Oh, Winnie's all right, father--especially now she has Miss ANABEL. Why are you ironical? MR. BARLOW. Oh, Miss Wrath, believe me, we all feel that--it is the GERALD. I wasn't ironical, I assure you. MR. BARLOW. No, indeed--no, indeed! We have every belief in you. ANABEL. But why should you have? MR. BARLOW. Ah, my dear child, allow us the credit of our own
EVA. Yes, sir. What shall I play? WINIFRED. Mozart--I'll find you the piece. Mozart's the saddest MR. BARLOW. Why, how is it you are such a connoisseur in sadness, GERALD. She isn't. She's a flagrant amateur.
GERALD. Oh, Anabel's a genius!--I beg your pardon, Miss Wrath-- MR. BARLOW. Gerald, my boy, don't forget that you are virtually host EVA. Did you want any more music, sir? GERALD. No, don't stay, Eva. We mustn't tire father. (Exit EVA.) MR. BARLOW. I am afraid, Anabel, you will have a great deal to ANABEL. Oh, surely--- MR. BARLOW. Yes, I know. We have been a turbulent family, and we GERALD. Excuse me, father: do you mind if I go and write a letter I MR. BARLOW. No, my boy. (Exit GERALD.) We have had our share of ANABEL. Yes--a little. MR. BARLOW. The mines were opened when my father was a boy--the ANABEL. Yes, of course. But is it money that really matters, Mr. MR. BARLOW. My dear, if you are a working man, it matters. When I ANABEL. Yes, I believe that the great disparity is a mistake. But MR. BARLOW. Surely their lives would be better, Anabel. OLIVER. All our lives would be better, if we hadn't to hang on in the MR. BARLOW. Yes, I know now, as I knew then, that it was wrong. But ANABEL. Why, no! MR. BARLOW. Again, if I withdrew from the Company, if I retired on ANABEL. Of course--while the system stands, if one makes self- MR. BARLOW. One panders to the system--one panders to the system. OLIVER. Quite. But why feel guilty for the system?--everybody MR. BARLOW. Just the system. So I decided at last that the best way ANABEL. Yes, the decent ones. MR. BARLOW. But I wished to help--it was my duty. Still, I think OLIVER. Yes, that is true. Even twenty years ago the place was MR. BARLOW. And then, when Gerald was a lad of thirteen, came the OLIVER. Ah, but they enjoyed it--they enjoyed it immensely. I MR. BARLOW. There was a great deal of suffering, which you were ANABEL. Yes, it is difficult--very. MR. BARLOW. Perhaps I weary you? ANABEL. Oh, no--no. MR. BARLOW. Well--then the mines began to pay badly. The seams ran ANABEL. Yes--I understand. It terrifies me. MR. BARLOW. Does it?--does it?--Yes.--And as my wife says, I leave ANABEL. Ah, well, in death there is no industrial situation. MR. BARLOW. Yes--yes. OLIVER. And you see sacrifice isn't the slightest use. If only MR. BARLOW. Yes, indeed.--Would you be so good as to ring, Oliver? ANABEL. Ah, you have over-tired yourself. MR. BARLOW. No, my dear--not over-tired. Excuse me if I have ANABEL. I realise HOW terrible it is, Mr. Barlow--and how helpless MR. BARLOW. Thank you, my dear, for your sympathy. OLIVER. If the people for one minute pulled themselves up and MR. BARLOW. If you would be so kind. (Exit OLIVER.) Can't you find
WILLIAM. You will go up, sir? MR. BARLOW. Yes, William. WILLIAM. You are tired to-night, sir. MR. BARLOW. It has come over me just now. WILLIAM. I wish you went up before you became so over-tired, sir. MR. BARLOW. No, I'll go with you, William. Good night, my dear. ANABEL. Good night, Mr. Barlow. I am so sorry if you are over-tired.
ANABEL. Yes. GERALD. I thought I heard him. Has he been talking too much?--Poor ANABEL. Tragic, really. GERALD. Yes, I suppose it is. But one can get beyond tragedy-- ANABEL. I like the house. It's rather too comfortable. GERALD. Yes. But how do you like being here? ANABEL. How do you like my being in your home? GERALD. Oh, I think you're very decorative. ANABEL. More decorative than comfortable? GERALD. Perhaps. But perhaps you give the necessary finish to the ANABEL. Like the correct window-curtains? GERALD. Yes, something like that. I say, why did you come, Anabel? ANABEL. You mean you want to be told? GERALD. Yes, I want to be told. ANABEL. That's rather mean of you. You should savvy, and let it go GERALD. Yes, but I don't savvy. ANABEL. Then wait till you do. GERALD. No, I want to be told. There's a difference in you, Anabel, ANABEL. No, not sanctified. It's true I feel different. I feel I GERALD. Is it the change of heart, Anabel? ANABEL. Perhaps it is, Gerald. GERALD. I'm not sure that I like it. Isn't it like a berry that ANABEL. I don't think so. GERALD. Slightly sanctimonious. I think I liked you better before. ANABEL. I don't think I do.--Do you feel no different, Gerald? GERALD. Radically, I can't say I do. I feel very much more ANABEL. What to? GERALD. Everything. ANABEL. You're still angry--that's what it is. GERALD. Oh, yes, I'm angry. But that is part of my normal state. ANABEL. Why are you angry? GERALD. Is there any reason why I shouldn't be angry? I'm angry ANABEL. Don't you think it was time I cleared out, when you became GERALD. Time or not time, you went--you disappeared and left us ANABEL. And what are you angry with yourself for? GERALD. I'm angry with myself for being myself--I always was that. ANABEL. And that's why you curse others so much? GERALD. You talk as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. ANABEL. You see, Gerald, there has to be a change. You'll have to GERALD. Change of heart?--Well, it won't be to get softer, Anabel. ANABEL. You needn't be softer. But you can be quieter, more sane GERALD. Well, there isn't. I don't pretend to be able to extricate ANABEL. Nobody asks you to. But is there no part of you that can be GERALD. No, there isn't.--I'm not going to smug with you--no, not I. ANABEL. Then I'd better have stayed away. GERALD. If you want me to virtuise and smug with you, you had. ANABEL. What DO you want, then? GERALD. I don't know. I know I don't want THAT. ANABEL. Oh, very well. (Goes to the piano; begins to play.)
MRS. BARLOW. Oh, I thought he was down here talking. You two alone? GERALD. With the piano for chaperone, mother. MRS. BARLOW. That's more than I gave you credit for. I haven't come GERALD. Chaperone ME, mother! Do you think I need it? MRS. BARLOW. If you do, you won't get it. I've come too late to be GERALD. What have you heard, mother? MRS. BARLOW. I heard Oliver and this young woman talking. GERALD. Oh, did you? When? What did they say? MRS. BARLOW. Something about married in the sight of heaven, but GERALD. I don't understand. MRS. BARLOW. That you and this young woman were married in the sight GERALD. Really! That's very curious, mother. MRS. BARLOW. Very common occurrence, I believe. GERALD. Yes, so it is. But I don't think you heard quite right, MRS. BARLOW. I heard it outside the studio door this morning. GERALD. You mean you happened to be on one side of the door while MRS. BARLOW. You'd make a detective, Gerald--you're so good at GERALD. Listen outside the door, darling? MRS. BARLOW. There'd be nothing to listen to if I were inside. GERALD. It isn't usually done, you know. MRS. BARLOW. I listen outside doors when I have occasion to be GERALD. But I've a queer feeling that you have a permanent occasion MRS. BARLOW. It's surprising how uninteresting you are, Gerald, for a GERALD. I believe you implicitly, darling. But do you happen to MRS. BARLOW. Your memoirs wouldn't make you famous, my son. GERALD. Infamous, dear? MRS. BARLOW. Good heavens, no! What a lot you expect from your very GERALD. Don't say "this young woman," mother dear--it's slightly MRS. BARLOW. Do you ask me to call her Anabel? I won't. GERALD. Then say "this person," mother. It's more becoming. MRS. BARLOW. I didn't come to speak to you, Gerald. I know you. I GERALD. "Person," mother.--Will you curtsey, Anabel? And I'll twist MRS. BARLOW. You and Gerald were together for some time? GERALD. Three years, off and on, mother. MRS. BARLOW. And then you suddenly dropped my son, and went away? GERALD. To Norway, mother--so I have gathered. MRS. BARLOW. And now you have come back because that last one died? GERALD. Is he dead, Anabel? How did he die? ANABEL. He was killed on the ice. GERALD. Oh, God! MRS. BARLOW. Now, having had your fill of tragedy, you have come back GERALD. You must listen outside the door, mother, to find that out. MRS. BARLOW. Well, it's your own affair. GERALD. What a lame summing up, mother!--quite unworthy of you. ANABEL. What did you wish to say to me, Mrs. Barlow? Please say it. MRS. BARLOW. What did I wish to say! Ay, what did I wish to say! GERALD. No, mother dear, don't climb down--please don't. Tell Anabel MRS. BARLOW. Yes--yes--yes. I came to say--don't be good to my son-- GERALD. Sounds weak, dear--mere contrariness. MRS. BARLOW. Don't presume to be good to my son, young woman. I ANABEL. Yes. I won't presume, then. GERALD. May she presume to be bad to me, mother? MRS. BARLOW. For that you may look after yourself.--But a woman who ANABEL. No--I understand. MRS. BARLOW. Only one other thing I ask. If he must fight--and ANABEL. Not till I must. MRS. BARLOW. NEVER. Learn your place, and keep it. Keep away from GERALD. But that isn't love, mother. MRS. BARLOW. What? GERALD. That isn't love. MRS. BARLOW. WHAT? What do you know of love, you ninny? You only GERALD. I don't believe in your only thing, mother. But what is it? MRS. BARLOW. What you haven't got--the power to be alone. GERALD. Sort of megalomania, you mean? MRS. BARLOW. What? Megalomania! What is your LOVE but a GERALD. Stop, mother--keep off. MRS. BARLOW. It's the men who need beating nowadays, not the GERALD. You hear, Anabel?
GERALD. Mother, you improve our already pretty reputation. Already MRS. BARLOW (ringing violently). Let me be mad then. I am mad-- GERALD. You won't, mother because I sha'n't let you. MRS. BARLOW. Let me!--let me! As if I should wait for you to let me! GERALD. I am a match for you even in violence, come to that. MRS. BARLOW. A match! A damp match. A wet match.
MRS. BARLOW. Clear up those bits.--Where are you going to see that GERALD. I think so. MRS. BARLOW. You will STILL have them coming to the house, will you? GERALD. When you've done that, William, ask Mr. Freer to come down WILLIAM. Yes, sir. (A pause. Exit WILLIAM.) GERALD. So-o-o. You've had another glimpse of the family life. ANABEL. Yes. Rather--disturbing. GERALD. Not at all, when you're used to it. Mother isn't as mad as ANABEL. I don't think she's mad at all. I think she has most GERALD. "Courage" is good. That's a new term for it. ANABEL. Yes, courage. When a man says "courage" he means the GERALD. Mother takes her courage in both hands rather late. ANABEL. We're a little late ourselves. GERALD. We are, rather. By the way, you seem to have had plenty of ANABEL. That's why I want a change of--of--- GERALD. Of heart?--Better take mother's tip, and try the poker. ANABEL. I will. GERALD. Ha--corraggio! ANABEL. Yes--corraggio! GERALD. Corraggiaccio! ANABEL. Corraggione! GERALD. Cock-a-doodle-doo!
JOB ARTHUR. Sounds like a sneezing game, doesn't it? GERALD. It is. Do you know the famous rhyme:
GERALD. My mother does. Will you have anything to drink? Will you JOB ARTHUR. Well--no--I don't think I'll have anything, thanks. GERALD. A cherry brandy?--Yes?--Anabel, what's yours? ANABEL. Did I see Kummel? GERALD. You did. (They all take drinks.) What's the latest, Mr. JOB ARTHUR. The latest? Well, I don't know, I'm sure--- GERALD. Oh, yes. Trot it out. We're quite private. JOB ARTHUR. Well--I don't know. There's several things. GERALD. The more the merrier. JOB ARTHUR. I'm not so sure. The men are in a very funny temper, Mr. GERALD. Coincidence--so am I. Not surprising, is it? JOB ARTHUR. The men, perhaps not. GERALD. What else, Job Arthur? JOB ARTHUR. You know the men have decided to stand by the office men? GERALD. Yes. JOB ARTHUR. They've agreed to come out next Monday. GERALD. Have they? JOB ARTHUR. Yes; there was no stopping them. They decided for it GERALD. How was that? JOB ARTHUR. That's what surprises me. They're a jolly sight more GERALD. All their love for the office clerks coming out in a rush? JOB ARTHUR. Well, I don't know about love; but that's how it is. GERALD. What is it, if it isn't love? JOB ARTHUR. I can't say. They're in a funny temper. It's hard to GERALD. A funny temper, are they? Then I suppose we ought to laugh. JOB ARTHUR. No, I don't think it's a laughing matter. They're coming GERALD. Yes--so are the daffodils. JOB ARTHUR. Beg pardon? GERALD. Daffodils. JOB ARTHUR. No, I don't follow what you mean. GERALD. Don't you? But I thought Alfred Breffitt and William Straw JOB ARTHUR. No, they aren't--not in themselves. But it's the GERALD. What principle? JOB ARTHUR. Why, all sticking together, for one thing--all Barlow & GERALD. United we stand? JOB ARTHUR. That's it. And then it's the strong defending the weak GERALD. You do, do you? United we stand, divided we fall. What do JOB ARTHUR. Well--for their right to a living wage. That's how I see GERALD. For their right to a living wage! Just that? JOB ARTHUR. Yes, sir--that's how I see it. GERALD. Well, that doesn't seem so preposterously difficult does it? JOB ARTHUR. Why, that's what I think myself, Mr. Gerald. It's such GERALD. Quite. I suppose the men themselves are to judge what is a JOB ARTHUR. Oh, I think they're quite reasonable, you know. GERALD. Oh, yes, eminently reasonable. Reason's their strong point. JOB ARTHUR. Yes, as far as I know, they will. GERALD. As far as you know? Why, is there something you don't know? JOB ARTHUR. No--I don't think so. I think they'll be quite satisfied GERALD. Why this time? Is there going to be a next time--every-day- JOB ARTHUR. I don't know about that. It's a funny world, Mr. Barlow. GERALD. Yes, I quite believe it. How do you see it so funny? JOB ARTHUR. Oh, I don't know. Everything's in a funny state. GERALD. What do you mean by everything? JOB ARTHUR. Well--I mean things in general--Labour, for example. GERALD. You think Labour's in a funny state, do you? What do you JOB ARTHUR. Well, in my own mind, I think it wants a bit of its own GERALD. And how does it mean to get it? JOB ARTHUR. Ha! that's not so easy to say. But it means to have it, GERALD. You mean by increasing demands for higher wages? JOB ARTHUR. Yes, perhaps that's one road. GERALD. Do you see any other? JOB ARTHUR. Not just for the present. GERALD. But later on? JOB ARTHUR. I can't say about that. The men will be quiet enough GERALD. Probably. But have Barlow & Walsall's men any special JOB ARTHUR. I don't know. They've no liking for you, you know, sir. GERALD. Why? JOB ARTHUR. They think you've got a down on them. GERALD. Why should they? JOB ARTHUR. I don't know, sir; but they do. GERALD. So they have a personal feeling against me? You don't think JOB ARTHUR. I think there's a good deal of feeling--- GERALD. Of wanting their own back? JOB ARTHUR. That's it. GERALD. But what can they do? I don't see what they can do. They JOB ARTHUR. I know there's something in that. But if they had a GERALD. Yes, I've heard a lot about that strong man--but I've never JOB ARTHUR. I'm not so sure about that. GERALD. I am. Labour is a thing that can't have a head. It's a JOB ARTHUR. Yes, when it has a chance, I think you'll see plenty of GERALD. It always had a chance. And where one sees a bit of courage, JOB ARTHUR. I don't think they will. GERALD. No, I don't, either. They'll make a mess and when they've JOB ARTHUR. They've never had a try yet. GERALD. They're trying every day. They just simply couldn't control JOB ARTHUR. It remains to be seen. GERALD. No, it doesn't. It's perfectly obvious--there's nothing JOB ARTHUR. Yes, sir. Perhaps you see now why you're not so very GERALD. We can't all be popular, Job Arthur. You're very high up in JOB ARTHUR. Not so very. They listen to me a bit. But you never GERALD. I should think not. JOB ARTHUR. But about the office men, Mr. Gerald. You think it'll GERALD. Oh, yes, that'll be all right. JOB ARTHUR. Easiest for this time, anyhow, sir. We don't want GERALD. I shouldn't mind at all. It might clear the way to something. JOB ARTHUR. I don't know about that--I don't know. Well. GERALD. Have another drink before you go.--Yes, do. Help yourself. JOB ARTHUR. Well--if you're so pressing. (Helps himself.) Here's ALL. Thanks. GERALD. Take a cigar--there's the box. Go on--take a handful--fill JOB ARTHUR. They're a great luxury nowadays, aren't they? Almost GERALD. Yes, that's the worst of not being a bloated capitalist. JOB ARTHUR. Oh, don't trouble. Good night--good night. (Exeunt.) OLIVER. Oh, God, what a world to live in! ANABEL. I rather liked him. What is he? OLIVER. Checkweighman--local secretary for the Miner's Federation-- ANABEL. But isn't he rather nice? OLIVER. I don't like him. But I confess he's a study. He's the ANABEL. Don't you think he likes Gerald? OLIVER. I'm sure he does. The way he suns himself here--like a cat ANABEL. Yes--I don't mind it. It shows a certain sensitiveness and OLIVER. Yes, he has both--touch of the artist, as Mrs. Barlow says. ANABEL. But that is nice in him. OLIVER. Quite. But what he loves, and what he admires, and what he ANABEL. But Gerald shouldn't be kissed. OLIVER. That's what I say. ANABEL. And that's what his mother means as well, I suppose.
ANABEL. He isn't the people. GERALD. I think he is, myself--the epitome. OLIVER. No, he's a special type. GERALD. Ineffectual, don't you think? ANABEL. How pleased you are, Gerald! How pleased you are with GERALD. It's rather stimulating, you know. ANABEL. It oughtn't to be, then. OLIVER. He's you Judas, and you love him. GERALD. Nothing so deep. He's just a sort of AEolian harp that ANABEL. I think it's boring. OLIVER. And I think it's nasty. GERALD. I believe you're both jealous of him. What do you think of OLIVER. It seems to me he's in nearly as bad a way as the British GERALD. What point? OLIVER. Oh, just life. GERALD. That's too vague, my boy. Do you think they'll ever make a OLIVER. I can't tell. I don't see any good in it, if they do. GERALD. It might clear the way--and it might block the way for ever: ANABEL. They may have something better. GERALD. That suggestion doesn't interest me, Anabel. Ah, well, we ANABEL. No, thanks. GERALD. I believe you're a reformed character. So it won't be like ANABEL. I don't want old times. I want new ones. GERALD. Wait till Job Arthur has risen like Anti-christ, and ANABEL. It bores me. I don't like your mood. Good night. GERALD. Oh, don't go. ANABEL. Yes, good night. (Exit.) OLIVER. She's NOT reformed, Gerald. She's the same old moral GERALD. Is that what it is?--But one must be moral. OLIVER. Oh, yes. Oliver Cromwell wasn't as moral as Anabel is--nor GERALD. Poor old Anabel! OLIVER. How she hates the dark gods! GERALD. And yet they cast a spell over her. Poor old Anabel! Well, OLIVER. I don't know.--I don't like you either. You seem to smile GERALD. Oh, look here, this is censorious. OLIVER. You smile to yourself. (Exit.)
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