Alcestis.

[Pg 2]

How Admetus was saved from the disagreeable necessity of dying by his wife Alcestis, who was permitted to die in his stead, and how Heracles, in gratitude for Admetus’ hospitality, wrestled with Death for her and restored her to her husband, has been narrated by Euripides. What Euripides did not do was to give us any hint of the subsequent history of the reunited couple. Did they live happily ever afterwards, or——? But the sequel must show. It is written in the woman-hating vein so often seen in Euripides, and its title has been Latinized for the benefit of those who have forgotten their Greek.

[Pg 3]

HERCULES VICTUS.

Scene.—Before Admetus’ Palace. That worthy enters hurriedly through the Royal doors, which he bangs behind him with a slight want of dignity. He soliloquises.

Admetus.

[Weeps bitterly.

Chorus.

First Semichorus.

Second Semichorus.

[Pg 5]

First Semichorus.

Second Semichorus.

[Pg 6]

[Enter Alcestis. She is in a bad temper, and is weeping as only Euripides’ characters can.

Alcestis.

[Pg 7]

[Pg 8] [Pg 9]

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

[Pg 10]

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Alcestis.

[Enter Heracles in the opportune manner customary in Greek tragedy.

Heracles.

[Preparing to salute the gods at great length.]

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

[Pg 12]

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

[Pg 13]

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

[Pg 14]

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Alcestis.

Heracles.

Alcestis.

[Pg 15]

Heracles.

Alcestis.

Admetus.

Heracles.

[Exit Heracles.

The Chorus, who appear to have borrowed their metre from “Atalanta in Calydon,” sing as follows:—

Chorus.

[The Chorus sit down in dejection.

[Pg 17]

Enter Heracles.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Alcestis.

[Pg 18]

Heracles.

Admetus.

Heracles.

Alcestis.

[Exit angrily.

Heracles.

[Pg 19]

Admetus.

[Exit sorrowfully.

Chorus.

[Pg 20] [Pg 21]

Curtain.

Hamlet.

[Pg 22]

Among the plays which seem specially to require a sequel, “Hamlet” must certainly be reckoned. The end of Act V. left the distracted kingdom of Denmark bereft alike of King, Queen, and Heir-Presumptive. There were thus all the materials for an acute political crisis. It might have been imagined that the crown would fall inevitably to the Norwegian Prince Fortinbras who, being on the spot with an army behind him, certainly seems to have neglected his chances. It is clear, however, from the sequel that Fortinbras failed to rise to the occasion, and that Horatio, being more an antique Roman than a Dane, seized his opportunity and by a coup d’état got possession of the vacant throne. Nor would Fortinbras appear to have resented this, as we find him subsequently visiting Horatio at Elsinore. There is, however, a Nemesis which waits upon Usurpers, as the sequel shows. The sequel, by the way, should have been called “Ghosts,” but that title has been already appropriated by a lesser dramatist.

[Pg 23]

THE NEW WING AT ELSINORE.

Scene I.—The Platform before the old part of the Castle as in Act I. Horatio and Fortinbras come out of the house swathed in overcoats, the former looking nervously over his shoulder. It is a dark winter’s evening after dinner.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

[Pg 24]

[Sits down resolutely with his back to the castle.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

[Looks at watch.

[The clock begins to strike as they exeunt hastily. On the last stroke, Ghost enters.

[Pg 30]

Ghost.

[Stops, seeing no one there.

[Sits down resolutely to wait for Horatio.

Scene II.—Before the New Wing of the Castle. The two Clowns, formerly grave-diggers but now employed with equal appropriateness as builders, are working on the structure in the extremely leisurely fashion to be expected of artizans who are not members of a Trades Union.

1st Clown.

[In his best Elizabethan manner.] Nay, but hear you, goodman builder——

2nd Clown.

[In homely vernacular.] Look here, Bill, you can drop that jargon. There’s no one here but ourselves, and I ain’t amused by it. It’s all very well to try it on when[Pg 31] there’s gentlefolk about, but when we’re alone you take a rest.

1st Clown.

[Puzzled.] Ay, marry!

2nd Clown.

[Throwing down tools.] Stow it, I say, or I’ll have to make you. Marry, indeed! If you mean “Yes,” say “Yes.” If you mean “No,” say “No.”

1st Clown.

All right, mate.

2nd Clown.

[Grumbling.] It’s bad enough staying up all night building more rooms on to this confounded castle—I should have thought it was big enough and ugly enough without our additions—but if I’m to listen to your gab, s’help me——!

1st Clown.

Hush! here comes some one.

[They make a valiant pretence of work as Horatio and Fortinbras enter.

Horatio.

[Ecstatically, completely deceived by this simple ruse.] My Master-Builders!

Fortinbras.

Idle dogs!

[Pg 32]

1st Clown.

[Elizabethan again.] Argal, goodman builder, will he nill he, he that builds not ill builds well, and he that builds not well builds ill. Therefore, perpend!

Horatio.

[Appreciatively.] How absolute the knave is!

Fortinbras.

He seems to me to be an absolute fool.

Horatio.

Not at all. A most intelligent working man. I’ll draw him out. [To 1st Clown.] When will the house be finished, sirrah?

1st Clown.

When it is done, Sir.

Horatio.

Ay, fool, and when will that be?

1st Clown.

When it is finished, o’ course.

Horatio.

[To [Pg 33]Fortinbras.] There! What do you call that? Witty, eh?

Fortinbras.

I call it perfectly idiotic, if you ask me.

Horatio.

Well, well; we’ll try again. [To 1st Clown.] And whose is the house, fellow?

1st Clown.

[Fatuously.] Marry, his that owns it. Ask another.

Horatio.

[To Fortinbras.] Ha! Ha! Good again. By the Lord, Fortinbras, as Hamlet used to say, the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, it galls his kibe.

Fortinbras.

[Savagely.] The toe of the courtier is getting so perilously near the person of the peasant that you’d better get rid of the latter as soon as possible.

Horatio.

[Doubtfully.] Perhaps you’re right. And yet I was always taught to consider that kind of thing awfully entertaining. But, there. Fashions [Pg 34]change in humour as in other things. Send them away.

Fortinbras.

[Giving them money.] Away with you, fellows. Go and get drunk.

[Exeunt clowns.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Horatio.

[Pg 35]

[The figure stops.

Ghost.

Horatio.

Ghost.

Horatio.

Ghost.

Horatio.

[Pg 36]

Ghost.

Horatio.

Fortinbras.

Ghost.

Horatio.

[Exit with dignity.

[Pg 37]

Curtain.

[Pg 38]

Much Ado about Nothing.

The end of “Much Ado about Nothing” must always leave the sympathetic playgoer in tears. The future looks black for everybody concerned. Claudio’s jealous disposition will make him a most uncomfortable husband for the resuscitated Hero, while Benedick and Beatrice are likely to find that a common taste in badinage is not the most satisfactory basis for matrimony. When it is added that Don John’s genius for plotting [Pg 39]is sure in the end to get him into trouble one feels that nothing can be gloomier than the prospects of the entire cast.

MORE ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Scene.—The garden of Benedick’s house at Padua. Benedick is sitting on a garden seat, sunning himself indolently. Beatrice is beside him, keeping up her reputation for conversational brilliancy by a series of sprightly witticisms.

Beatrice.

Very likely I do talk twice as much as I should. But then, if I talk too much you certainly listen far too little, so we are quits. Do you hear?

Benedick.

[Opening his eyes slowly.] Eh?

Beatrice.

I believe you were asleep! But there—’tis a great compliment to my wit. Like Orpheus, I can put even the savage beasts to sleep with it. [Benedick’s eyes close [Pg 40]again, and he appears to sink into a profound doze.] But if the beasts go to sleep there’s no use in being witty. I suppose Orpheus never thought of that. Come, wake up, good Signior Beast. [Prods him coquettishly with her finger.] Have you forgotten that the Duke is coming?

Benedick.

[Drowsily.] When will he be here?

Beatrice.

Ere you have done gaping.

Benedick.

[Terribly bored by this badinage.] My dear, if only you would occasionally answer a plain question. When do you expect him?

Beatrice.

[Skittish to the last.] Plain questions should only be answered by plain people.

Benedick.

[Yawning heartily.] A pretty question then.

Beatrice.

Pretty questions should only be asked by pretty people. There! What do you think of that for wit!

Benedick.

Really, my dear, I can har[Pg 41]dly trust myself to characterise it in—er—fitting terms. [Rings bell. Enter Page.] When is the Duke expected?

Page.

In half-an-hour, Sir.

Benedick.

Thank you.

[Exit Page.

Beatrice.

[Pouting.] You needn’t have rung. I could have told you that.

Benedick.

I am sure you could, my dear. But as you wouldn’t——

Beatrice.

I was going to, if you had given me time.

Benedick.

Experience has taught me, my dear Beatrice, that it is usually much quicker to ring! [Closes his eyes again.]

Beatrice.

How rude you are!

Benedick.

[Half opening them.] Eh?

Beatrice.

[Pg 42]

I said it was very rude of you to go to sleep when I am talking.

Benedick.

[Closing his eyes afresh.] It’s perfectly absurd of you to talk when I am going to sleep.

Beatrice.

[Girding herself for fresh witticisms.] Why absurd?

Benedick.

Because I don’t hear what you say, of course, my love.

Beatrice.

[Whose repartees have been scattered for the moment by this adroit compliment.] Well, well, sleep your fill, Bear. I’ll go and bandy epigrams with Ursula.

[Exit Beatrice. Benedick looks cautiously round to see if she is really gone, and then heaves a sigh of relief.

Benedick.

Poor Beatrice! If only she were not so incorrigibly sprightly. She positively drives one to subterfuge.

[Produces a book from his pocket, which he reads with every appearance of being entirely awake.

Enter Don Pedro, as from a journey.

[Pg 43]

Benedick does not see him.

Don Pedro.

Signior Benedick!

Benedick.

[Starting up on hearing his name.] Ah, my dear Lord. Welcome to Padua.

Don Pedro.

[Looks him up and down.] But how’s this? You look but poorly, my good Benedick.

Benedick.

I am passing well, my Lord.

Don Pedro.

And your wife, the fair Beatrice? As witty as ever?

Benedick.

[Grimly.] Quite!

Don Pedro.

[Rubbing his hands.] I felt sure of it! I made the match, remember! I said to old Leonato “She were an excellent match for Benedick” as soon as I saw her.

[Pg 44]

Benedick.

[Sighing.] So you did, so you did.

Don Pedro.

[Puzzled.] I’m bound to say you don’t seem particularly happy.

Benedick.

[Evasively.] Oh, we get on well enough.

Don Pedro.

Well enough! Why, what’s the matter, man? Come, be frank with me.

Benedick.

[Impressively.] My dear Lord, never marry a witty wife! If you do, you’ll repent it. But it’s a painful subject. Let’s talk of something else. How’s Claudio? I thought we should see him—and Hero—with you.

Don Pedro.

[Looking slightly uncomfortable.] Claudio is—er—fairly well.

Benedick.

Why, what’s the matter with him? His wife isn’t developing into a wit, is she?

Don Pedro.

No. She’s certainly not doing that!

[Pg 45]

Benedick.

Happy Claudio! But why aren’t they here then?

[Pg 46]

[Pg 47]

Don Pedro.

[Coughing nervously.] Well, the truth is, Claudio’s marriage hasn’t been exactly one of my successes. You remember I made that match too?

Benedick.

I remember. Don’t they hit it off?

Don Pedro.

[Querulously.] It was all Claudio’s suspicious temper. He never would disabuse his mind of the idea that Hero was making love to somebody else. You remember he began that even before he was married. First it was me he suspected. Then it was the mysterious man under her balcony.

Benedick.

You suspected him too.

Don Pedro.

That’s true. But that was all my brother John’s fault. Anyhow, I thought when they were once married things would settle down comfortably.

[Pg 48]

Benedick.

You were curiously sanguine. I should have thought anyone would have seen that after that scene in the church they would never be happy together.

Don Pedro.

Perhaps so. Anyhow, they weren’t. Of course, everything was against them. What with my brother John’s absolute genius for hatching plots, and my utter inability to detect them, not to speak of Claudio’s unfortunate propensity for overhearing conversations and misunderstanding them, the intervals of harmony between them were extremely few, and, at last, Hero lost patience and divorced him.

Benedick.

So bad as that? How did it happen?

Don Pedro.

Oh, in the old way. My brother pretended that Hero was unfaithful, and as he could produce no evidence of the fact whatever, of course Claudio believed him. So, with his old passion for making scenes, he selected the moment when I and half-a-dozen others were staying at the house and denounced her before us all after dinner.

Benedick.

The church scene over again?

[Pg 49]

Don Pedro.

No. It took place in the drawing-room. Hero behaved with her usual dignity, declined to discuss Claudio’s accusations altogether, put the matter in the hands of her solicitor, and the decree was made absolute last week.

Benedick.

She was perfectly innocent, of course?

Don Pedro.

Completely. It was merely another ruse on the part of my amiable brother. Really, John’s behaviour was inexcusable.

Benedick.

Was Claudio greatly distressed when he found how he had been deceived?

Don Pedro.

He was distracted. But Hero declined to have anything more to do with him. She said she could forgive a man for making a fool of himself once, but twice was too much of a good thing.

Benedick.

[Frowning.] That so[Pg 50]unds rather more epigrammatic than a really nice wife’s remarks should be.

Don Pedro.

She had great provocation.

Benedick.

That’s true. And one can see her point of view. It was the publicity of the thing that galled her, no doubt. But poor Claudio had no reticence whatever. That scene in the church was in the worst possible taste. But I forgot. You had a share in that.

Don Pedro.

[Stiffly.] I don’t think we need go into that question.

Benedick.

And now to select the hour, after a dinner party, for taxing his wife with infidelity! How like Claudio! Really, he must be an absolute fool.

Don Pedro.

Oh, well, your marriage doesn’t seem to have been a conspicuous success, if you come to that.

Benedick.

[Savagely.[Pg 51]] That’s no great credit to you, is it? You made the match. You said as much a moment ago.

Don Pedro.

I know, I know. But seriously, my dear Benedick, what is wrong?

Benedick.

[Snappishly.] Beatrice, of course. You don’t suppose I’m wrong, do you?

Don Pedro.

Come, that’s better. A spark of the old Benedick. Let me call your wife to you, and we’ll have one of your old encounters of wit.

Benedick.

[Seriously alarmed.] For Heaven’s sake, no. Ah, my dear Lord, if you only knew how weary I am of wit, especially Beatrice’s wit.

Don Pedro.

You surprise me. I remember I thought her a most amusing young lady.

Benedick.

[Tersely.] You weren’t married to her.

Don Pedro.

But what is it you complain of?

[Pg 52]

Benedick.

Beatrice bores me. It is all very well to listen to sparkling sallies for ten minutes or so, but Beatrice sparkles for hours together. She is utterly incapable of answering the simplest question without a blaze of epigram. When I ask her what time it is, she becomes so insufferably facetious that all the clocks stop in disgust. And once when I was thoughtless enough to enquire what there was for dinner, she made so many jokes on the subject that I had to go down without her. And even then the soup was cold!

Don Pedro.

[Quoting.] “Here you may see Benedick, the married man!”

Benedick.

Don’t you try to be funny too! One joker in a household is quite enough, I can tell you. And poor Beatrice’s jokes aren’t always in the best of taste either. The other day, when the Vicar came to lunch he was so shocked at her that he left before the meal was half over and his wife has never called since.

[Pg 53]

Don Pedro.

My poor Benedick, I wish I could advise you. But I really don’t know what to suggest. My brother could have helped you, I’m sure. He was always so good at intrigue. But unfortunately I had him executed after his last exploit with Claudio. It’s most unlucky. But that’s the worst of making away with a villain. You never know when you may need him. Poor John could always be depended upon in an emergency of this kind.

Benedick.

[Gloomily.] He is certainly a great loss.

Don Pedro.

Don’t you think you could arrange so that Beatrice should overhear you making love to someone else? We’ve tried that sort of thing more than once in this play.

Benedick.

[Acidly.] As the result has invariably been disastrous, I think we may dismiss that expedient from our minds. No, there’s nothing for it but to put up with the infliction, and by practising a habit of mental abstraction, reduce the evil to within bearable limits.

Don Pedro.

I don’t think I quite follow you.

[Pg 54]

Benedick.

In plain English, my dear Lord, I find the only way to go on living with Beatrice is never to listen to her. As soon as she begins to be witty I fall into a kind of swoon, and in that comatose condition I can live through perfect coruscations of brilliancy without inconvenience.

Don Pedro.

Does she like that?

Benedick.

Candidly, I don’t think she does.

Don Pedro.

Hold! I have an idea.

Benedick.

[Nervously.] I hope not. Your ideas have been singularly unfortunate hitherto in my affairs.

Don Pedro.

Ah, but you’ll approve of this.

Benedick.

What is it?

Don Pedro.

Leave your wife, and come away with me.

Benedick.[Pg 55]

[Doubtfully.] She’d come after us.

Don Pedro.

Yes, but we should have the start.

Benedick.

That’s true. By Jove, I’ll do it! Let’s go at once.

[Rises hastily.

Don Pedro.

I think you ought to leave some kind of message for her—just to say good-bye; you know. It seems more polite.

Benedick.

Perhaps so. [Tears leaf out of pocket-book.] What shall it be, prose or verse? I remember Claudio burst into poetry when he was taking leave of Hero. Such bad poetry too!

Don Pedro.

I think you might make it verse—as you’re leaving her for ever. It seems more in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion.

Benedick.

So it does. [Writes.]

Don Pedro.[Pg 56]

Hush! Isn’t that your wife over there in the arbour?

Benedick.

[Losing his temper.] Dash it all! There’s nothing but eaves-dropping in this play.

Don Pedro.

Perhaps she doesn’t see us. Let’s steal off, anyhow, on the chance.

[They creep off on tip-toe (r) as Beatrice enters with similar caution (l).

Beatrice.

[Watching them go.] Bother! I thought I should overhear what they were saying. I believe Benedick is [Pg 57]really running away. It’s just as well. If he hadn’t, I should. He had really grown too dull for anything. [Sees note which Benedick has left.] Ah, so he’s left a message. “Farewell for ever,” I suppose. [Reads it. Stamps her foot.] Monster! If I ever see him again I’ll scratch him!

[Pg 58]

Curtain.

[Pg 59]

The Critic.

Everybody who has seen “The Critic” must have been filled with curiosity to read the Press notices on Mr. Puff’s tragedy “The Spanish Armada.” The following sequel to Sheridan’s comedy embodies some of these.

THE OTHER CRITICS.

Scene.—Dangle’s house. Mr. and Mrs. Dangle, Sneer and Sir Fretful Plagiary discovered discussing the first performance of Puff’s play, which has taken place a week previously. A table is littered with Press cuttings dealing with the event, supplied by the indispensable Romeike.

Sir Fretful Plagiary.

I give you my word, the duel scene was taken wholly from my comedy The Lovers Abandoned—pilfered, egad!

Dangle.

Bless my soul! You don’t say so?

Sir Fretful Plagiary.

And Tilburina’s speech about the[Pg 60] “finches of the grove.” ’Twas I first thought of finches, in my tragedy of Antoninus!

Dangle.

But I can’t believe my friend Puff can have borrowed deliberately from you, Sir Fretful.

Sneer.

No one could possibly believe that!

Sir Fretful Plagiary.

Eh?

Mrs. Dangle.

It must have been a coincidence.

Sir Fretful Plagiary.