60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ comes back with his landlord. Mr. Fergus Crampton is a man of about sixty, tall, hard and stringy, with an atrociously obstinate, ill tempered, grasping mouth, and a querulously dogmatic voice. Withal he is highly nervous and sensitive, judging by his thin transparent skin marked with multitudinous lines, and his slender fingers. His consequent capacity for suffering acutely from all the dislike that his temper and obstinacy can bring upon him is proved by his wistful, wounded eyes, by a plaintive note in his voice, a painful want of confidence in his welcome, and a constant but indifferently successful effort to correct his natural incivility of manner and proneness to take offence. By his keen brows and forehead he is clearly a shrewd man; and there is no sign of straitened means or commercial diffidence about him: he is well dressed, and would be classed at a guess as a prosperous master manufacturer in a business inherited from an old family in the aristocracy of trade. His navy blue coat is not of the usual fashionable pattern. It is not exactly a pilot’s coat; but it is cut that way, double breasted, and with stout buttons and broad lapels, a coat for a shipyard rather than a counting house. He has taken a fancy to Valentine, who cares nothing for his crossness of grain and treats him with a sort of disrespectful humanity, for which he is secretly grateful.)

      VALENTINE. May I introduce — this is Mr. Crampton — Miss Dorothy Clandon, Mr. Philip Clandon, Miss Clandon. (Crampton stands nervously bowing. They all bow.) Sit down, Mr. Crampton.

      DOLLY (pointing to the operating chair). That is the most comfortable chair, Mr. Ch — crampton.

      CRAMPTON. Thank you; but won’t this young lady — (indicating Gloria, who is close to the chair)?

      GLORIA. Thank you, Mr. Crampton: we are just going.

      VALENTINE (bustling him across to the chair with goodhumored peremptoriness). Sit down, sit down. You’re tired.

      CRAMPTON. Well, perhaps as I am considerably the oldest person present, I — (He finishes the sentence by sitting down a little rheumatically in the operating chair. Meanwhile, Philip, having studied him critically during his passage across the room, nods to Dolly; and Dolly nods to Gloria.)

      GLORIA. Mr. Crampton: we understand that we are preventing Mr. Valentine from lunching with you by taking him away ourselves. My mother would be very glad, indeed, if you would come too.

      CRAMPTON (gratefully, after looking at her earnestly for a moment). Thank you. I will come with pleasure.

      GLORIA } (politely { Thank you very much — er —

      DOLLY } murmuring).{ So glad — er —

      PHILIP } { Delighted, I’m sure — er —

      (The conversation drops. Gloria and Dolly look at one another; then at Valentine and Philip. Valentine and Philip, unequal to the occasion, look away from them at one another, and are instantly so disconcerted by catching one another’s eye, that they look back again and catch the eyes of Gloria and Dolly. Thus, catching one another all round, they all look at nothing and are quite at a loss. Crampton looks about him, waiting for them to begin. The silence becomes unbearable.)

      DOLLY (suddenly, to keep things going). How old are you, Mr. Crampton?

      GLORIA (hastily). I am afraid we must be going, Mr. Valentine. It is understood, then, that we meet at half past one. (She makes for the door. Philip goes with her. Valentine retreats to the bell.)

      VALENTINE. Half past one. (He rings the bell.) Many thanks. (He follows Gloria and Philip to the door, and goes out with them.)

      DOLLY (who has meanwhile stolen across to Crampton). Make him give you gas. It’s five shillings extra: but it’s worth it.

      CRAMPTON (amused). Very well. (Looking more earnestly at her.) So you want to know my age, do you? I’m fifty-seven.

      DOLLY (with conviction). You look it.

      CRAMPTON (grimly). I dare say I do.

      DOLLY. What are you looking at me so hard for? Anything wrong? (She feels whether her hat is right.)

      CRAMPTON. You’re like somebody.

      DOLLY. Who?

      CRAMPTON. Well, you have a curious look of my mother.

      DOLLY (incredulously). Your mother!!! Quite sure you don’t mean your daughter?

      CRAMPTON (suddenly blackening with hate). Yes: I’m quite sure I don’t mean my daughter.

      DOLLY (sympathetically). Tooth bad?

      CRAMPTON. No, no: nothing. A twinge of memory, Miss Clandon, not of toothache.

      DOLLY. Have it out. “Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow:” with gas, five shillings extra.

      CRAMPTON (vindictively). No, not a sorrow. An injury that was done me once: that’s all. I don’t forget injuries; and I don’t want to forget them. (His features settle into an implacable frown.)

      (reenter Philip: to look for Dolly. He comes down behind her unobserved.)

      DOLLY (looking critically at Crampton’s expression). I don’t think we shall like you when you are brooding over your sorrows.

      PHILIP (who has entered the room unobserved, and stolen behind her). My sister means well, Mr. Crampton: but she is indiscreet. Now Dolly, outside! (He takes her towards the door.)

      DOLLY (in a perfectly audible undertone). He says he’s only fifty-seven; and he thinks me the image of his mother; and he hates his daughter; and — (She is interrupted by the return of Valentine.)

      VALENTINE. Miss Clandon has gone on.

      PHILIP. Don’t forget half past one.

      DOLLY. Mind you leave Mr. Crampton with enough teeth to eat with. (They go out. Valentine comes down to his cabinet, and opens it.)

      CRAMPTON. That’s a spoiled child, Mr. Valentine. That’s one of your modern products. When I was her age, I had many a good hiding fresh in my memory to teach me manners.

      VALENTINE (taking up his dental mirror and probe from the shelf in front of the cabinet). What did you think of her sister?

      CRAMPTON. You liked her better, eh?

      VALENTINE (rhapsodically). She struck me as being — (He checks himself, and adds, prosaically) However, that’s not business. (He places himself behind Crampton’s right shoulder and assumes his professional tone.) Open, please. (Crampton opens his mouth. Valentine puts the mirror in, and examines his teeth.) Hm! You have broken that one. What a pity to spoil such a splendid set of teeth! Why do you crack nuts with them? (He withdraws the mirror, and comes forward to converse with Crampton.)

      CRAMPTON. I’ve always cracked nuts with them: what else are they for? (Dogmatically.) The proper way to keep teeth good is to give them plenty of use on bones and nuts, and wash them every day with soap — plain yellow soap.

      VALENTINE. Soap! Why soap?

      CRAMPTON. I began using it as a boy because I was made to; and I’ve used it ever since. And I never had toothache in my life.

      VALENTINE. Don’t you find it rather nasty?

      CRAMPTON. СКАЧАТЬ