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

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       A week has waited breathless.

      LYDIA. Read them us.

      BASHVILLE [reading]. “At noon to-day, unknown to the police,

       Within a thousand miles of Wormwood Scrubbs,

       Th’ Australian Champion and his challenger,

       The Flying Dutchman, formerly engaged

       I’ the mercantile marine, fought to a finish.

       Lord Worthington, the well-known sporting peer

       Acted as referee.”

      LYDIA. Lord Worthington!

      BASHVILLE. “The bold Ned Skene revisited the ropes

       To hold the bottle for his quondam novice;

       Whilst in the seaman’s corner were assembled

       Professor Palmer and the Chelsea Snob.

       Mellish, whose epigastrium has been hurt,

       ’Tis said, by accident at Wiltstoken,

       Looked none the worse in the Australian’s corner.

       The Flying Dutchman wore the Union Jack:

       His colors freely sold amid the crowd;

       But Cashel’s well-known spot of white on blue — —”

      LYDIA. Whose, did you say?

      BASHVILLE. Cashel’s, my lady.

      LYDIA. Lucian:

       Your hand — a chair —

      BASHVILLE. Madam: you’re ill.

      LYDIA. Proceed.

       What you have read I do not understand;

       Yet I will hear it through. Proceed.

      LUCIAN. Proceed.

      BASHVILLE. “But Cashel’s well-known spot of white on blue

       Was fairly rushed for. Time was called at twelve,

       When, with a smile of confidence upon

       His ocean-beaten mug — —”

      LYDIA. His mug?

      LUCIAN [explaining]. His face.

      BASHVILLE [continuing]. “The Dutchman came undaunted to the scratch,

       But found the champion there already. Both

       Most heartily shook hands, amid the cheers

       Of their encouraged backers. Two to one

       Was offered on the Melbourne nonpareil;

       And soon, so fit the Flying Dutchman seemed,

       Found takers everywhere. No time was lost

       In getting to the business of the day.

       The Dutchman led at once, and seemed to land

       On Byron’s dicebox; but the seaman’s reach,

       Too short for execution at long shots,

       Did not get fairly home upon the ivory;

       And Byron had the best of the exchange.”

      LYDIA. I do not understand. What were they doing?

      LUCIAN. Fighting with naked fists.

      LYDIA. Oh, horrible!

       I’ll hear no more. Or stay: how did it end?

       Was Cashel hurt?

      LUCIAN [to Bashville]. Skip to the final round.

      BASHVILLE. “Round Three: the rumors that had gone about

       Of a breakdown in Byron’s recent training

       Seemed quite confirmed. Upon the call of time

       He rose, and, looking anything but cheerful,

       Proclaimed with every breath Bellows to Mend.

       At this point six to one was freely offered

       Upon the Dutchman; and Lord Worthington

       Plunged at this figure till he stood to lose

       A fortune should the Dutchman, as seemed certain,

       Take down the number of the Panley boy.

       The Dutchman, glutton as we know he is,

       Seemed this time likely to go hungry. Cashel

       Was clearly groggy as he slipped the sailor,

       Who, not to be denied, followed him up,

       Forcing the fighting mid tremendous cheers.”

      LYDIA. Oh stop — no more — or tell the worst at once.

       I’ll be revenged. Bashville: call the police.

       This brutal sailor shall be made to know

       There’s law in England.

      LUCIAN. Do not interrupt him:

       Mine ears are thirsting. Finish, man. What next?

      BASHVILLE. “Forty to one, the Dutchman’s friends exclaimed.

       Done, said Lord Worthington, who shewed himself

       A sportsman every inch. Barely the bet

       Was booked, when, at the reeling champion’s jaw

       The sailor, bent on winning out of hand,

       Sent in his right. The issue seemed a cert,

       When Cashel, ducking smartly to his left,

       Cross-countered like a hundredweight of brick — —”

      LUCIAN. Death and damnation!

      LYDIA. Oh, what does it mean?

      BASHVILLE. “The Dutchman went to grass, a beaten man.”

      LYDIA. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Oh, well done, Cashel!

      BASHVILLE. “A scene of indescribable excitement

       Ensued; for it was now quite evident

       That Byron’s grogginess had all along

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