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

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СКАЧАТЬ Keep back your bruiséd prisoner lest he shock

       This wellbred lady’s nerves. Your pardon, ma’am;

       But have you seen by chance the other one?

       In this direction he was seen to run.

      LYDIA. A man came here anon with bloody hands

       And aspect that did turn my soul to snow.

      POLICEMAN. ’Twas he. What said he?

      LYDIA. Begged for sanctuary.

       I bade the man begone.

      POLICEMAN. Most properly.

       Saw you which way he went?

      LYDIA. I cannot tell.

      PARADISE. He seen me coming; and he done a bunk.

      POLICEMAN. Peace, there. Excuse his damaged features, lady:

       He’s Paradise; and this one’s Byron’s trainer,

       Mellish.

      MELLISH. Injurious copper, in thy teeth

       I hurl the lie. I am no trainer, I.

       My father, a respected missionary,

       Apprenticed me at fourteen years of age

       T’ the poetry writing. To these woods I came

       With Nature to commune. My revery

       Was by a sound of blows rudely dispelled.

       Mindful of what my sainted parent taught,

       I rushed to play the peacemaker, when lo!

       These minions of the law laid hands on me.

      BASHVILLE. A lovely woman, with distracted cries,

       In most resplendent fashionable frock,

       Approaches like a wounded antelope.

      Enter Adelaide Gisborne

      ADELAIDE. Where is my Cashel? Hath he been arrested?

      POLICEMAN. I would I had thy Cashel by the collar:

       He hath escaped me.

      ADELAIDE. Praises be for ever!

      LYDIA. Why dost thou call the missing man thy Cashel?

      ADELAIDE. He is mine only son.

      ALL. Thy son!

      ADELAIDE. My son.

      LYDIA. I thought his mother hardly would have known him,

       So crushed his countenance.

      ADELAIDE. A ribald peer,

       Lord Worthington by name, this morning came

       With honeyed words beseeching me to mount

       His four-in-hand, and to the country hie

       To see some English sport. Being by nature

       Frank as a child, I fell into the snare,

       But took so long to dress that the design

       Failed of its full effect; for not until

       The final round we reached the horrid scene.

       Be silent all; for now I do approach

       My tragedy’s catastrophe. Know, then,

       That Heaven did bless me with an only son,

       A boy devoted to his doting mother ——

      POLICEMAN. Hark! did you hear an oath from yonder room?

      ADELAIDE. Respect a brokenhearted mother’s grief,

       And do not interrupt me in my scene.

       Ten years ago my darling disappeared

       (Ten dreary twelvemonths of continuous tears,

       Tears that have left me prematurely aged;

       For I am younger far than I appear).

       Judge of my anguish when to-day I saw

       Stripped to the waist, and fighting like a demon

       With one who, whatsoe’er his humble virtues,

       Was clearly not a gentleman, my son!

      ALL. O strange event! O passing tearful tale!

      ADELAIDE. I thank you from the bottom of my heart

       For the reception you have given my woe;

       And now I ask, where is my wretched son?

       He must at once come home with me, and quit

       A course of life that cannot be allowed.

      Enter Cashel

      CASHEL. Policeman: I do yield me to the law.

      LYDIA. Oh, no.

      ADELAIDE. My son!

      CASHEL. My mother! Do not kiss me.

       My visage is too sore.

      POLICEMAN. The lady hid him.

       This is a regular plant. You cannot be

       Up to that sex. [To Cashel] You come along with me.

      LYDIA. Fear not, my Cashel: I will bail thee out.

      CASHEL. Never. I do embrace my doom with joy.

       With Paradise in Pentonville or Portland

       I shall feel safe: there are no mothers there.

      ADELAIDE. Ungracious boy —

      CASHEL. Constable: bear me hence.

      MELLISH. Oh, let me sweetest reconcilement make

       By calling to thy mind that moving song: —

      [Sings] They say there is no other —

      CASHEL. Forbear at once, or the next note of music

       That falls upon thine ear shall clang in thunder

       From the last trumpet.

      ADELAIDE. A disgraceful threat

       To level at this virtuous old man.

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