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

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СКАЧАТЬ Oh, Cashel, if thou scorn’st thy mother thus,

       How wilt thou treat thy wife?

      CASHEL. There spake my fate:

       I knew you would say that. Oh, mothers, mothers,

       Would you but let your wretched sons alone

       Life were worth living! Had I any choice

       In this importunate relationship?

       None. And until that high auspicious day

       When the millennium on an orphaned world

       Shall dawn, and man upon his fellow look,

       Reckless of consanguinity, my mother

       And I within the selfsame hemisphere

       Conjointly may not dwell.

      ADELAIDE. Ungentlemanly!

      CASHEL. I am no gentleman. I am a criminal,

       Redhanded, baseborn —

      ADELAIDE. Baseborn! Who dares say it?

       Thou art the son and heir of Bingley Bumpkin

       FitzAlgernon de Courcy Cashel Byron,

       Sieur of Park Lane and Overlord of Dorset,

       Who after three months’ wedded happiness

       Rashly fordid himself with prussic acid,

       Leaving a tearstained note to testify

       That having sweetly honeymooned with me,

       He now could say, O Death, where is thy sting?

      POLICEMAN. Sir: had I known your quality, this cop

       I had averted; but it is too late.

       The law’s above us both.

      Enter Lucian, with an Order in Council

      LUCIAN. Not so, policeman

       I bear a message from The Throne itself

       Of fullest amnesty for Byron’s past.

       Nay, more: of Dorset deputy lieutenant

       He is proclaimed. Further, it is decreed,

       In memory of his glorious victory

       Over our country’s foes at Islington,

       The flag of England shall for ever bear

       On azure field twelve swanlike spots of white;

       And by an exercise of feudal right

       Too long disused in this anarchic age

       Our sovereign doth confer on him the hand

       Of Miss Carew, Wiltstoken’s wealthy heiress. [General acclamation.

      POLICEMAN. Was anything, sir, said about me?

      LUCIAN. Thy faithful services are not forgot:

       In future call thyself Inspector Smith. [Renewed acclamation.

      POLICEMAN. I thank you, sir. I thank you, gentlemen.

      LUCIAN. My former opposition, valiant champion,

       Was based on the supposed discrepancy

       Betwixt your rank and Lydia’s. Here’s my hand.

      BASHVILLE. And I do here unselfishly renounce

       All my pretensions to my lady’s favor. [Sensation.

      LYDIA. What, Bashville! didst thou love me?

      BASHVILLE. Madam: yes.

       ’Tis said: now let me leave immediately.

      LYDIA. In taking, Bashville, this most tasteful course

       You are but acting as a gentleman

       In the like case would act. I fully grant

       Your perfect right to make a declaration

       Which flatters me and honors your ambition.

       Prior attachment bids me firmly say

       That whilst my Cashel lives, and polyandry

       Rests foreign to the British social scheme,

       Your love is hopeless; still, your services,

       Made zealous by disinterested passion,

       Would greatly add to my domestic comfort;

       And if ——

      CASHEL. Excuse me. I have other views.

       I’ve noted in this man such aptitude

       For art and exercise in his defence

       That I prognosticate for him a future

       More glorious than my past. Henceforth I dub him

       The Admirable Bashville, Byron’s Novice;

       And to the utmost of my mended fortunes

       Will back him ‘gainst the world at ten stone six.

      ALL. Hail, Byron’s Novice, champion that shall be!

      BASHVILLE. Must I renounce my lovely lady’s service,

       And mar the face of man?

      CASHEL. ’Tis Fate’s decree.

       For know, rash youth, that in this star crost world

       Fate drives us all to find our chiefest good

       In what we can, and not in what we would.

      POLICEMAN. A post-horn — hark!

      CASHEL. What noise of wheels is this?

      Lord Worthington drives upon the scene in his four-in-hand, and descends

      ADELAIDE. Perfidious peer!

      LORD WORTHINGTON. Sweet Adelaide ——

      ADELAIDE. Forbear,

       Audacious one: my name is Mrs. Byron.

      LORD WORTHINGTON. Oh, change that title for the sweeter one

       Of Lady Worthington.

      CASHEL. Unhappy man,

       You know not what you do.

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