Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ then found she must go to town by the 11.13 train.

      REV. S. [With despairing vehemence.] I never gave any such invitation. I never thought of such a thing.

      FRANK. [Compassionately.] How do you know, gov’nor, what you said and thought last night?

      PRAED. [Coming in through the hedge.] Good morning.

      REV. S. Good morning. I must apologize for not having met you at breakfast. I have a touch of—of—

      FRANK. Clergyman’s sore throat, Praed. Fortunately not chronic.

      PRAED. [Changing the subject.] Well I must say your house is in a charming spot here. Really most charming.

      REV. S. Yes: it is indeed. Frank will take you for a walk, Mr. Praed, if you like. I’ll ask you to excuse me: I must take the opportunity to write my sermon while Mrs. Gardner is away and you are all amusing yourselves. You won’t mind, will you?

      PRAED. Certainly not. Don’t stand on the slightest ceremony with me.

      REV. S. Thank you. I’ll—er—er—[He stammers his way to the porch and vanishes into the house.]

      PRAED. Curious thing it must be writing a sermon every week.

      FRANK. Ever so curious, if he did it. He buys em. He’s gone for some soda water.

      PRAED. My dear boy: I wish you would be more respectful to your father. You know you can be so nice when you like.

      FRANK. My dear Praddy: you forget that I have to live with the governor. When two people live together—it don’t matter whether they’re father and son or husband and wife or brother and sister—they can’t keep up the polite humbug that’s so easy for ten minutes on an afternoon call. Now the governor, who unites to many admirable domestic qualities the irresoluteness of a sheep and the pompousness and aggressiveness of a jackass—

      PRAED. No, pray, pray, my dear Frank, remember! He is your father.

      FRANK. I give him due credit for that. [Rising and flinging down his paper.] But just imagine his telling Crofts to bring the Warrens over here! He must have been ever so drunk. You know, my dear Praddy, my mother wouldn’t stand Mrs. Warren for a moment. Vivie mustn’t come here until she’s gone back to town.

      PRAED. But your mother doesn’t know anything about Mrs. Warren, does she? [He picks up the paper and sits down to read it.]

      FRANK. I don’t know. Her journey to town looks as if she did. Not that my mother would mind in the ordinary way: she has stuck like a brick to lots of women who had got into trouble. But they were all nice women. That’s what makes the real difference. Mrs. Warren, no doubt, has her merits; but she’s ever so rowdy; and my mother simply wouldn’t put up with her. So—hallo! [This exclamation is provoked by the reappearance of the clergyman, who comes out of the house in haste and dismay.]

      REV. S. Frank: Mrs. Warren and her daughter are coming across the heath with Crofts: I saw them from the study windows. What am I to say about your mother?

      FRANK. Stick on your hat and go out and say how delighted you are to see them; and that Frank’s in the garden; and that mother and Bessie have been called to the bedside of a sick relative, and were ever so sorry they couldn’t stop; and that you hope Mrs. Warren slept well; and—and—say any blessed thing except the truth, and leave the rest to Providence.

      REV. S. But how are we to get rid of them afterwards?

      FRANK. There’s no time to think of that now. Here! [He bounds into the house.]

      REV. S. He’s so impetuous. I don’t know what to do with him, Mr. Praed.

      FRANK. [Returning with a clerical felt hat, which he claps on his father’s head.] Now: off with you. [Rushing him through the gate.] Praed and I’ll wait here, to give the thing an unpremeditated air. [The clergyman, dazed but obedient, hurries off.]

      FRANK. We must get the old girl back to town somehow, Praed. Come! Honestly, dear Praddy, do you like seeing them together?

      PRAED. Oh, why not?

      FRANK. [His teeth on edge.] Don’t it make your flesh creep ever so little? that wicked old devil, up to every villainy under the sun, I’ll swear, and Vivie—ugh!

      PRAED. Hush, pray. They’re coming. [The clergyman and Crofts are seen coming along the road, followed by Mrs. Warren and Vivie walking affectionately together.]

      FRANK. Look: she actually has her arm round the old woman’s waist. It’s her right arm: she began it. She’s gone sentimental, by God! Ugh! ugh! Now do you feel the creeps? [The clergyman opens the gate: and Mrs. Warren and Vivie pass him and stand in the middle of the garden looking at the house. Frank, in an ecstasy of dissimulation, turns gaily to Mrs. Warren, exclaiming.] Ever so delighted to see you, Mrs. Warren. This quiet old rectory garden becomes you perfectly.

      MRS. WARREN. Well, I never! Did you hear that, George? He says I look well in a quiet old rectory garden.

      REV. S. [Still holding the gate for Crofts, who loafs through it, heavily bored.] You look well everywhere, Mrs. Warren.

      FRANK. Bravo, gov’nor! Now look here: lets have a treat before lunch. First lets see the church. Everyone has to do that. It’s a regular old thirteenth century church, you know: the gov’nor’s ever so fond of it, because he got up a restoration fund and had it completely rebuilt six years ago. Praed will be able to shew its points.

      REV. S. [Mooning hospitably at them.] I shall be pleased, I’m sure, if Sir George and Mrs. Warren really care about it.

      MRS. WARREN. Oh, come along and get it over.

      CROFTS. [Turning back toward the gate.] I’ve no objection.

      REV. S. Not that way. We go through the fields, if you don’t mind. Round here. [He leads the way by the little path through the box hedge.]

      CROFTS. Oh, all right. [He goes with the parson. Praed follows with Mrs. Warren. Vivie does not stir: she watches them until they have gone, with all the lines of purpose in her face marking it strongly.]

      FRANK. Ain’t you coming?

      VIVIE. No. I want to give you a warning, Frank. You were making fun of my mother just now when you said that about the rectory garden. That is barred in the future. Please treat my mother with as much respect as you treat your own.

      FRANK. My dear Viv: she wouldn’t appreciate it: the two cases require different treatment. But what on earth has happened to you? Last night we were perfectly agreed as to your mother and her set. This morning I find you attitudinizing sentimentally with your arm around your parent’s waist.

      VIVIE. [Flushing.] Attitudinizing!

      FRANK. That was how it struck me. First time I ever saw you do a second-rate thing.

      VIVIE. [Controlling herself.] Yes, Frank: there has been a change: but I don’t think it a change for the worse. Yesterday I was a little prig.

      FRANK. And today?

      VIVIE. [Wincing; then looking at him steadily.] Today I know my mother better than you do.

      FRANK. СКАЧАТЬ