Plays 6

by Tom Murphy

A Crossroads

  Moses Whoa, Blackberry!

  The Primroses’ belongings on a cart. (The cart perhaps is faced upstage, or, in other words, we do not see Blackberry.) Mrs Primrose, despondent, and Olivia are seated on top of their belongings in the cart.

  Sophy is on foot and is looking back to the road they have come. They are waiting for the others to catch up.

  Moses (coming from top of cart) . . . Our turning, Mother, for Low Groansbury.

  Mrs Primrose (quietly) How much further?

  Moses Seventy miles.

  Mrs Primrose (with sighs) Seventy miles. Low Groansbury. To a curacy that offers fifteen pounds a year.

  Sophy I’m sure that we shall manage when it’s added to the profits of the farm that Papa intends to hire.

  Mrs Primrose To be seen to be so poor.

  Olivia (beautifully dressed; climbing down from the cart) Sure, madam, you do not fear the challenge of frugality?

  Mrs Primrose And I told you – madam – to dress as befits the challenge of a cart! (She sees Vicar approaching.) You are an impossible, impractical, obstinate creature, Dr Primrose!

  Vicar entering with Dick and Bill and George.

  Vicar There is yet enough for happiness if we are wise, Deborah.

  Mrs Primrose Theory, Dr Primrose, all theory.

  Vicar Are we arrived at the crossroads where we must part, George?

  Dick and Bill give George handfuls of flowers that they have plucked. Mrs Primrose begins to weep.

  Mrs Primrose Can there not be a postponement?

  George I hope not, Mother. (He is full of confidence.)

  Vicar It’s best for George to go where he can contribute to our support and to his own.

  Mrs Primrose But to bide with us until we reach the low place to which your father has committed us!

  Vicar Have no fear, Deborah –

  Mrs Primrose Oh, George, George! (Embracing him.)

  George Have no apprehension, Mama, as I have none.

  Moses (tearfully, aside to the tearful Olivia and Sophy) At least he don’t mope no more.

  Vicar I know he will act a good part, be it victorious or vanquished.

  George I trust victorious, sir. Your blessing, Father.

  Vicar I give it you, my son, with all my heart. You are going to London, George, in the manner Thomas Hooker, your great ancestor, went before you. Take from me the same horse that was given him by his father – (He gives his staff to George.) And take this book. In it you will find two lines worth a million: ‘I have been young and now am old; yet never saw I the righteous man forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.’

  George Thank you, Father.

  Mrs Primrose And let us see you in six months.

  Vicar Yes, whatever your fortune, let us see you in a six months.

  George And perhaps even sooner.

  George leaves, optimistically, eagerly. Their hands, held up in a silent farewell, become still. Vicar secretly wipes a tear. Sophy looks at the darkening sky.

  Sophy It threatens. We had best proceed and see if we can find some place to shelter for the night.

  Mrs Primrose What is to befall us in that remoteness out there?

  Moses (frightened) There is no sin upon us, Father? Mother, cheer up?

  Vicar has seated Dick and Bill on the cart. Mrs Primrose and Sophy climb on to it too. Moses to the head of the cart.

  Vicar Take your guitar, Sophy. Thrum a little. What song, Livy, to raise our spirits?

  Olivia ‘Death and the Lady’!

  Moses Giddy-up, Blackberry!

  And, night falling – lights fading – they move off, singing ‘Death and the Lady’, Vicar and Olivia hand in hand.

  As I walked out one morn in May

  All in the merry month of May

  When thrushes sang and the lambs did play

  I met an old man by the way.

  My name is Death, fair maiden, see . . . (Et cetera.)

  Scene Three

  The Inn

  The Landlord is lazy, dirty, bleary-eyed; cynical and smiling content; drunk. He sets his chair and belches: ‘Aye!’ Mr Burchill comes in pursued by Landlady, who is both sloven and drudge. Burchill is, of course, Sir William Thornhill. He is eccentric and erratic in behaviour; he is neurotic. He wants to be loved for himself alone and so he goes about disguised in clothes that once were ‘laced’; there is a rent somewhere in his top coat. Yet his manner is imperious.

  Landlady Mr Burchill, Mr Burchill! How d’you mean, you cannot pay? Stand! And flinging coins away like potato-peelings on gypsies, beggars and vagabonds and keeping us out of our own! Stand, I command you! We want our money! We want our – STAND!

  Burchill (rounds on her, considers it but does not deign to speak beyond) Hah! (And walks off.)

  Landlord (belches) Aye!

  Landlady I vow, Tom Symonds, you use me ill. Sitting there like a lord a-beaming. Cool as a dairy-pan and smiling sweet, and the house a-going up the chimbley.

  There is a knocking at the door and Landlord gets up lazily to answer it.

  Landlord Aye!

  Landlady (mimics) ‘Aye! Aye!’ But I’ll bear it no longer. (She follows.)

  Landlord Thrice welcome, ladies, aye, thrice welcome! Lodgings ye be wanting. Then thrice welcome! Lords in hell, the night out there!

  Olivia and Sophy come in, carrying the sleeping Dick and Bill ; then Landlady laden with their luggage: she trudges through, leading them off to the sleeping quarters.

  Landlady House a-going out the windows but does he care! Three-quarters of the work is left for me to do and the fourth is left unfinished. But I’ll bear it no more . . .

  Landlord (returning with Mrs Primrose) Low Groansbury ye be pointed for then. Aye! Aye! That be young Squire Thornhill’s domain.

  Olivia returns for a case or a box.

  Mrs Primrose Squire Thornhill? Take cup with me, Landlord.

  Landlord You ool be wanting to know something o’ the young squire, aye, something o’ young Ned Thornhill.

  Mrs Primrose I am merely curious to hear since we’re most like to be neighbours.

  Landlord Wanting to know something o’ young Bezzelybub. There’s a pretty bit o’ plumpness. (Olivia.) He ool be pleased with this one. (Sophy enters and exits for something.) He ool be pleased with both.

  Mrs Primrose Olivia, my dear, assist Sophia in having the little ones bedded.

  Olivia goes.

  Landlord Aye, bedded: every farmer’s daughter from twelve miles round and more.

  Mrs Primrose Tut-tut and phoo-phoo! You are talking to a woman of the world, Landlord.

  Landlord Solemn-n-dying! (Oath.) Never was man more fond of – (Winks at her.) Never had man more eye for fair sex. Why, there be nothing he wants in life but his pleasure. (Confidentially to her.) He cannot wait.

  Mrs Primrose What alarms! This eternal rumour of the infernal young squire has a hollow universality. What is his exact age and, since I take him to be unwed, tell me if he is affianced?

  Landlord Why, he cannot be a trifle more than the score, and I’d say the same count’d do for his fiancées.

  Mrs Primrose And how are we so knowledgeable about the intimate tricks of our betters?

  Landlord Oh, we’ve had the pleasure o’ entertaining more than one o’ his discards here, for, fair dues to young gent, he never do put off a wench without something in her fist to spend as how she likes.

  Vicar and Moses are coming in; Olivia and Sophy a moment later from the sleeping quarters. Olivia has a new ribbon in her hair; Sophy has her needle-box and Dick’s jacket to put a stitch in it.

  Landlord Aye, thrice welcome! (Aside to Mrs Primrose.) He cannot wait.

  Vicar Blackberry is at supper and I hope, Landlord, your bill of fare will see us showing as much honest enjoyment shortly. A jug of your wine, sir.

  Landlord going for wine. Mr Burchill comes in again, pursued by Landlady.

  Landlord (going for wine) Aye! Aye!

  Landlady Mr Burchill
, stand! How dare you, without money in your pocket, look at me like that!

  Burchill Madam, I have nothing about me presently and I have told it you an unnecessary number of times!

  Landlady You have not!

  Burchill I shall pay what I owe on my return to these parts.

  Landlady You shall not! He shall not! Tom! Tom! he declares he cannot satisfy our reckoning.

  Landlord Wants for money!

  Landlady Cannot pay.

  Landlord But that’s unpossible. (To Vicar.) Why, it were only yesterday he paid out three whole guineas to the beadle to spare an old broken soldier as was to be whipped for dogstealing.

  Burchill I shall settle the account on my return next month, now I bid you good evening!

  Landlady Tom! – He shall not! (She is wielding a cudgel now.)

  Vicar (simultaneously, aside to Landlord) How much is it?

  And Landlord replies.

  Landlady Tom! He shall not! We ool have satisfaction now, one way or t’other!

  Vicar (simultaneously) Madam! . . . I shall be responsible for the reckoning of this gentleman who showed such charity to an old soldier. And now be so kind as to fetch our jug of wine.

  Landlord and Landlady retire.

  Vicar Sir, my purse is at your disposal.

  Burchill I thank you, but I must previously entreat being informed of the name and residence of my benefactor in order to repay him as soon as possible.

  Vicar Charles Primrose, sir. And this is my family. Our destination is Low Groansbury where I have obtained a curacy.

  Burchill This falls out most luckily then, for my journey too takes me into that region.

  Mrs Primrose You are familiar with Low Groansbury, Mr Burchill?

  Burchill (suspiciously) I have some knowledge of the place.

  Mrs Primrose What knowledge of the young squire there? Burchill Why d’you ask me about young Thornhill?

  Mrs Primrose Ah! (You know him.) Rumours.

  Burchill Very often the product of idle, spiteful minds.

  Mrs Primrose My own sentiments to an ‘S’. How vast are his estates?

  Olivia Is he dark, is he fair?

  Mrs Primrose And his wealth? –

  Olivia How tall is he? –

  Mrs Primrose What size fortune does he command?

  Burchill Mr Thornhill is a Thornhill!

  Mrs Primrose I knew it!

  Burchill A gentleman!

  Mrs Primrose (telling herself) What did I tell you!

  Burchill He enjoys the use of a large fortune, the control of which is entirely dependent on my – dependent on the will of his uncle, Sir William Thornhill.

  Vicar What!

  Moses What!

  Vicar Is my young landlord then a nephew of Sir William Thornhill, Mr Burchill?

  Burchill Yes.

  Vicar Then – oh, my dears! – we have nothing to fear from our landlord if he be one whit like his uncle. For I have heard Sir William represented as one of the most generous, though eccentric, of men.

  Burchill Eccentric? Surely you mean humorous.

  Vicar No. Eccentric. But a man of consummate benevolence.

  Burchill Perhaps too much so.

  Vicar Oh?

  Burchill Well, at least when young, he carried benevolence to an extreme, for his passions were then strong. His soul laboured under a sickly sensibility of the miseries of others. He loved all mankind, and thus disposed to relieve, it is easily conjectured he found numbers disposed to solicit. He began to lose regard for private interest in universal sympathy. And still they drew – crowds! – who showed him only one side of their character – rascals! His profusion began to impair his fortune –

  Vicar (to Moses) Hark you well, my son –

  Burchill And then, when no longer able to satisfy a request for money, he gave promises!

  Vicar Tck-tck-tck-tck-tck!

  Burchill They were all, now, that he had to bestow! (He is getting – or he is – out of hand.)

  Sophy Poor Sir William!

  Burchill (to Sophy) Madam, he had not the resolution to give pain to any man by a denial! And still they drew! Swarms of dependents whom he wished to relieve but, now, was sure to disappoint. Then, what did they do? . . . They left him!

  Sophy Dear, dear!

  Burchill They did not merely leave him! They left him with sneers and reproaches! (For Sophy’s sympathy.) Madam? And in proportion as he became contemptible to others, he grew despicable to himself ! Now he cannot abide sycophants and their fawning. Now he suspects all and trusts no one. None, that is, except little children, the only part of humanity I have found to be harmless.

  Sophy Poor, poor, poor Sir William.

  Burchill How he searches now for respect uncontaminated with flattery. Oh! if he could find one honest upright man – or woman.

  Vicar I’m surprised, dear man, that you have not observed a moral to yourself in the story?

  Burchill (pulls himself together) Hah! But I have interrupted this young lady in her needlework.

  Sophy ’Tis but a stitch to my little brother’s jacket.

  Moses If I may be so bold – dear man – how is it with the estimable Sir William these days?

  Burchill He resolved, young sir, to restore himself to fortune and self-esteem abroad and, now, though scarcely thirty – well, some few years beyond it – has returned, his circumstances more affluent than ever.

  Sophy Oh, I am glad! (She has finished Dick’s jacket and she puts it down.) And some accident too seems to have befallen your coat, Mr Burchill. Might I, after supper, undertake the renovation?

  Landlord Supper, aye!

  Mrs Primrose Dine with us, sir. We have strayed from our original topic. I would test you on a dozen questions more about the young squire, this wealthy humorist’s nephew.

  Mrs Primrose, Olivia and Moses go out to supper.

  Vicar (moving away; to himself) Humorist? I’m sure I heard eccentric.

  Burchill Miss Sophia.

  Sophy Sir?

  Burchill (has been carrying a book throughout) For my amusement I put verses of my own composing in this book and set them to music: will you accept them as token recompense for the promised renovation? (She hesitates.) They are all that I may bestow at present.

  She accepts and they go out to supper.

  Landlord (collects his chair and follows) Aye!

  Vicar We set out again on the following day, with Mr Burchill riding along beside us till our ways had to part, and we lightened the fatigues of the road with philosophical discussion. At last, we approached the place of our retreat. A strange anxiety for my children hung about me, a foreboding of the future that I could not then fix. But, whatever its nature, I knew that it did not rest in my new neighbours, for they were farmers.

  Farmer Flamborough, a figure, crossing the background with a hay-fork on his shoulder, waves to Vicar. And Vicar waves back.

  (Remote from the polite, they retained a primaeval simplicity, frugal by habit, they scarce knew temperance to be a virtue, and what conversation lacked in wit was made up in laughter.) And it was in emulation of my new neighbour that I began to rule my little republic: indeed, so successfully – at first – all could agree that every situation can bring its own peculiar rewards. (He moves off.) It was about the beginning of autumn.

  Scene Four

  The Meadow

  Afternoon. Sunshine. The birds are singing. Mrs Primrose is spreading a cloth and setting plates for a picnic. Sophy, having assisted her mother, takes up her guitar and the book given her by Burchill and strums. Dick and Bill have come in, racing, with handfuls/baskets of berries. Moses is reading a book. Olivia is looking beautiful and dreamy. Now she is singing the song that Sophy is strumming. Sophy adds harmony. Vicar comes in, carrying his jacket, during the song.

  When lovely lady stoops to folly

  And finds too late that men betray,

  What charms can soothe her melancholy,

  What art can wash her grief away?


  The only art her guilt to cover,

  To hide her shame from every eye,

  To give repentance to her lover,

  And wring his bosom – is to die.

  Vicar (re. Sophy’s book) That poor gentleman. And he has an elegant hand.

  Mrs Primrose (to herself; coming out of reverie) Yes, we shall soon hear from George.

  Vicar What book today, my son?

  Moses Epictetus, Father.

  Vicar Dick and Bill, harken to the carolling.

  Dick To Livy and Sophy?

  Bill And the birdies in the trees?

  Vicar enjoys their reply. A blackbird sings.

  Vicar One for you, Moses: can you name our soloist?

  Moses Why, sir, surely the species Merula turdus: is it not the common blackbird, Father?

  Vicar Bravo, my boy! Though nothing common in that sound. Listen.

  They listen to the blackbird. Then, the report of a gun, disturbing the scene and silencing the blackbird for ever.

  Jenks’ Voice Well done, Ned! Four-and-twenty blackbirds!

  Mr Thornhill comes in, gun in hand, to search for the bird. A timid servant, Butler, arrives with him and is given the gun, stands by et cetera. Thornhill pulls up on seeing the Primrose family. He is a young man, a bit hysterical, obsessed with sex.

  Thornhill What the devil! Who are you? (He sees Olivia.) Your obedient! Afternoon, good afternoon, howdyehdo, howdyehdo!

  Jenks (coming in) Did you get him – (Reads the situation.) The hawk that hovered overhead? But who are these charming people?

  Thornhill I’m trying to discover it – howdyehdo! – but the accident with the wretched jackdaw has silenced them. Ladies – sirs – Ned Thornhill, your servant!

  Mrs Primrose (to herself) The squire!

  Thornhill The lands that you see all about you are mine.

  Vicar Charles Primrose, Sir. And this is my family. I’m the new Vicar.

  Thornhill T’be sure you are – Howdyehdo! And this is my – chaplain: Reverend Jenks. Let clergymen confer. (Getting Jenks to take Vicar aside.) Delighted, delightful! (Dick and Bill.) Young sir! (Moses.) Dearest madam!

  Mrs Primrose So pleased to make your acquaintance at last, Mr Thornhill.

  Thornhill T’be sure y’are! And this one is?

  Mrs Primrose Sophia.

  Thornhill Sophia!

  Sophy Sir.

  Thornhill And this one?