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

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СКАЧАТЬ That answer is no good to me. What I like is to have something to do; and I have nothing. You might as well talk like the missionary and tell me to do my duty.

      LADY CICELY (quickly). Oh no thank you. I’ve had quite enough of your duty, and Howard’s duty. Where would you both be now if I’d let you do it?

      BRASSBOUND. We’d have been somewhere, at all events. It seems to me that now I am nowhere.

      LADY CICELY. But aren’t you coming back to England with us?

      BRASSBOUND. What for?

      LADY CICELY. Why, to make the most of your opportunities.

      BRASSBOUND. What opportunities?

      LADY CICELY. Don’t you understand that when you are the nephew of a great bigwig, and have influential connexions, and good friends among them, lots of things can be done for you that are never done for ordinary ship captains?

      BRASSBOUND. Ah; but I’m not an aristocrat, you see. And like most poor men, I’m proud. I don’t like being patronized.

      LADY CICELY. What is the use of saying that? In my world, which is now your world — OUR world — getting patronage is the whole art of life. A man can’t have a career without it.

      BRASSBOUND. In my world a man can navigate a ship and get his living by it.

      LADY CICELY. Oh, I see you’re one of the Idealists — the Impossibilists! We have them, too, occasionally, in our world. There’s only one thing to be done with them.

      BRASSBOUND. What’s that?

      LADY CICELY. Marry them straight off to some girl with enough money for them, and plenty of sentiment. That’s their fate.

      BRASSBOUND. You’ve spoiled even that chance for me. Do you think I could look at any ordinary woman after you? You seem to be able to make me do pretty well what you like; but you can’t make me marry anybody but yourself.

      LADY CICELY. Do you know, Captain Paquito, that I’ve married no less than seventeen men (Brassbound stares) to other women. And they all opened the subject by saying that they would never marry anybody but me.

      BRASSBOUND. Then I shall be the first man you ever found to stand to his word.

      LADY CICELY (part pleased, part amused, part sympathetic). Do you really want a wife?

      BRASSBOUND. I want a commander. Don’t undervalue me: I am a good man when I have a good leader. I have courage: I have determination: I’m not a drinker: I can command a schooner and a shore party if I can’t command a ship or an army. When work is put upon me, I turn neither to save my life nor to fill my pocket. Gordon trusted me; and he never regretted it. If you trust me, you shan’t regret it. All the same, there’s something wanting in me: I suppose I’m stupid.

      LADY CICELY. Oh, you’re not stupid.

      BRASSBOUND. Yes I am. Since you saw me for the first time in that garden, you’ve heard me say nothing clever. And I’ve heard you say nothing that didn’t make me laugh, or make me feel friendly, as well as telling me what to think and what to do. That’s what I mean by real cleverness. Well, I haven’t got it. I can give an order when I know what order to give. I can make men obey it, willing or unwilling. But I’m stupid, I tell you: stupid. When there’s no Gordon to command me, I can’t think of what to do. Left to myself, I’ve become half a brigand. I can kick that little gutterscrub Drinkwater; but I find myself doing what he puts into my head because I can’t think of anything else. When you came, I took your orders as naturally as I took Gordon’s, though I little thought my next commander would be a woman. I want to take service under you. And there’s no way in which that can be done except marrying you. Will you let me do it?

      LADY CICELY. I’m afraid you don’t quite know how odd a match it would be for me according to the ideas of English society.

      BRASSBOUND. I care nothing about English society: let it mind its own business.

      LADY CICELY (rising, a little alarmed). Captain Paquito: I am not in love with you.

      BRASSBOUND (also rising, with his gaze still steadfastly on her). I didn’t suppose you were: the commander is not usually in love with his subordinate.

      LADY CICELY. Nor the subordinate with the commander.

      BRASSBOUND (assenting firmly). Nor the subordinate with the commander.

      LADY CICELY (learning for the first time in her life what terror is, as she finds that he is unconsciously mesmerizing her). Oh, you are dangerous!

      BRASSBOUND. Come: are you in love with anybody else? That’s the question.

      LADY CICELY (shaking her head). I have never been in love with any real person; and I never shall. How could I manage people if I had that mad little bit of self left in me? That’s my secret.

      BRASSBOUND. Then throw away the last bit of self. Marry me.

      LADY CICELY (vainly struggling to recall her wandering will). Must I?

      BRASSBOUND. There is no must. You CAN. I ask you to. My fate depends on it.

      LADY CICELY. It’s frightful; for I don’t mean to — don’t wish to.

      BRASSBOUND. But you will.

      LADY CICELY (quite lost, slowly stretches out her hand to give it to him). I — (Gunfire from the Thanksgiving. His eyes dilate. It wakes her from her trance) What is that?

      BRASSBOUND. It is farewell. Rescue for you — safety, freedom! You were made to be something better than the wife of Black Paquito. (He kneels and takes her hands) You can do no more for me now: I have blundered somehow on the secret of command at last (he kisses her hands): thanks for that, and for a man’s power and purpose restored and righted. And farewell, farewell, farewell.

      LADY CICELY (in a strange ecstasy, holding his hands as he rises). Oh, farewell. With my heart’s deepest feeling, farewell, farewell.

      BRASSBOUND. With my heart’s noblest honor and triumph, farewell. (He turns and flies.)

      LADY CICELY. How glorious! how glorious! And what an escape!

      CURTAIN

      NOTES TO CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND’S CONVERSION

       Table of Contents

      SOURCES OF THE PLAY

      I claim as a notable merit in the authorship of this play that I have been intelligent enough to steal its scenery, its surroundings, its atmosphere, its geography, its knowledge of the east, its fascinating Cadis and Kearneys and Sheikhs and mud castles from an excellent book of philosophic travel and vivid adventure entitled Mogreb-el-Acksa (Morocco the Most Holy) by Cunninghame Graham. My own first hand knowledge of Morocco is based on a morning’s walk through Tangier, and a cursory observation of the coast through a binocular from the deck of an Orient steamer, both later in date than the writing of the play.

      Cunninghame СКАЧАТЬ