Plays: Lady Frederick, The Explorer, A Man of Honour. W. Somerset Maugham

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      Captain Montgomerie.

      I think we've met before.

      Fouldes.

      I'm very pleased to hear it. How d'you do. [To Mererston.] Are you having a good time in Monte Carlo, Charles?

      Mererston.

      A 1, thanks.

      Fouldes.

      And what do you do with yourself?

      Mererston.

      Oh, hang about generally, you know—and there's always the tables.

      Fouldes.

      That's right, my boy; I'm glad to see that you prepare yourself properly for your duties as a hereditary legislator.

      Mererston.

      [Laughing.] Oh, shut it, Uncle Paradine.

      Fouldes.

      I rejoice also to find that you have already a certain command of the vernacular.

      Mererston.

      Well, if you can browbeat a London cabby and hold your own in repartee with a barmaid, it oughtn't to be difficult to get on all right in the House of Lords.

      Fouldes.

      But let me give you a solemn warning. You have a magnificent chance, dear boy, with all the advantages of wealth and station. I beseech you not to throw it away by any exhibition of talent. The field is clear and the British people are waiting for a leader. But remember that the British people like their leaders dull. Capacity they mistrust, versatility they cannot bear, and wit they utterly abhor. Look at the fate of poor Lord Parnaby. His urbanity gained him the premiership, but his brilliancy overthrew him. How could the fortunes of the nation be safe with a man whose speeches were pointed and sparkling, whose mind was so quick, so agile, that it reminded you of a fencer's play? Every one is agreed that Lord Parnaby is flippant and unsubstantial; we doubt his principles and we have grave fears about his morality. Take warning, my dear boy, take warning. Let the sprightly epigram never lighten the long periods of your speech nor the Attic salt flavour the roast beef of your conversation. Be careful that your metaphors show no imagination and conceal your brains as you would a discreditable secret. Above all, if you have a sense of humour, crush it. Crush it.

      Mereston.

      My dear uncle, you move me very much. I will be as stupid as an owl.

      Fouldes.

      There's a good, brave boy.

      Mereston.

      I will be heavy and tedious.

      Fouldes.

      I see already the riband of the Garter adorning your shirt-front. Remember, there's no damned merit about that.

      Mereston.

      None shall listen to my speeches without falling into a profound sleep.

      Fouldes.

      [Seizing his hand.] The premiership itself is within your grasp.

      Lady Mereston.

      Dear Paradine, let us take a stroll on the terrace before we go to bed.

      Fouldes.

      And you shall softly whisper all the latest scandal in my ear.

      [He puts on her cloak and they go out.

      Lady Frederick.

      May I speak to you, Admiral?

      Admiral.

      Certainly, certainly. What can I do for you?

      [While Lady Frederick and the Admiral talk, the others go slowly out. Through the conversation she uses her Irish brogue.

      Lady Frederick.

      Are you in a good temper?

      Admiral.

      Fairly, fairly.

      Lady Frederick.

      I'm glad of that because I want to make you a proposal of marriage.

      Admiral.

      My dear Lady Frederick, you take me entirely by surprise.

      Lady Frederick.

      [Laughing.] Not on my own behalf, you know.

      Admiral.

      Oh, I see.

      Lady Frederick.

      The fact is, my brother Gerald has asked your daughter to marry him, and she has accepted.

      Admiral.

      Rose is a minx, Lady Frederick, and she's much too young to marry.

      Lady Frederick.

      Now don't fly into a passion. We're going to talk it over quite calmly.

      Admiral.

      I tell you I won't hear of it. The boy's penniless.

      Lady Frederick.

      That's why it's so lucky you're rich.

      Admiral.

      Eh?

      Lady Frederick.

      You've been talking of buying a place in Ireland. You couldn't want anything nicer than Gerald's—gravel soil, you know. And you simply dote on Elizabethan architecture.

      Admiral.

      I can't bear it.

      Lady Frederick.

      How fortunate, then, that the house was burnt down in the eighteenth century and rebuilt in the best Georgian style.

      Admiral.

      Ugh.

      Lady Frederick.

      And you'd love to have little grandsons to dandle on your knee.

      Admiral.

      How do I know they wouldn't be girls?

      Lady Frederick.

      Oh, it's most unusual in our family.

      Admiral.

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