BOATMAN (Laughing): People all dressed up in their Sunday-best pretending? Sunday is just another day.
(DOT and LOUIS enter arm in arm. They look out at the water)
I wear what I always wear — then I don’t have to worry.
GEORGE: Worry?
BOATMAN: They leave me alone dressed like this. No one comes near.
(Music under)
CELESTE #1: Look who’s over there.
CELESTE #2: Dot! Who is she with?
CELESTE #1: Looks like Louis the baker.
CELESTE #2: How did Dot get to be with Louis?
CELESTE #1: She knows how to make dough rise!
(They laugh)
NURSE (Noticing DOT): There is that woman.
OLD LADY: Who is she with?
NURSE (Squinting): Looks like the baker.
OLD LADY: Moving up, I suppose.
NURSE: The artist is more handsome.
(DOT and LOUIS exit)
OLD LADY: You cannot eat paintings, my dear — not when there’s bread in the oven.
(JULES, YVONNE, and their child LOUISE appear They stand to one side and strike a pose. Music continues under, slow and stately)
JULES: They say he is working on an enormous canvas.
YVONNE: I heard somewhere he’s painting little specks.
JULES: You heard it from me! A large canvas of specks. Really . . .
YVONNE: Look at him. Drawing a slovenly boatman.
JULES: I think he is trying to play with light.
YVONNE: What next?
JULES: A monkey cage, they say.
(They laugh)
BOATMAN: Sunday hypocrites. That’s what they are. Muttering and murmuring about this one and that one. I’ll take my old dog for company any day. A dog knows his place. Respects your privacy. Makes no demands.
(To the dog)
Right, Spot?
SPOT (GEORGE): Right.
CELESTE #1 (Sings):
They say that George has another woman.
CELESTE #2 (Sings):
I’m not surprised.
CELESTE #1:
They say that George only lives with tramps.
CELESTE #2:
I’m not surprised.
CELESTE #1:
They say he prowls through the streets In his top hat after midnight —
CELESTE #2:
No!
CELESTE #1:
— and stands there staring up at the lamps.
CELESTE #2:
I’m not surprised.
BOTH:
Artists are so crazy . . .
OLD LADY:
Those girls are noisy.
NURSE: Yes, Madame.
OLD LADY (Referring to JULES):
That man is famous.
NURSE: Yes, Madame.
OLD LADY (Referring to BOATMAN):
That man is filthy.
NURSE: Your son seems to find him interesting.
OLD LADY:
That man’s deluded.
(NURSE thinks, nods)
THE CELESTES:
Artists are so crazy.
OLD LADY and NURSE:
Artists are so peculiar.
YVONNE: Monkeys!
BOATMAN:
Overprivileged women
Complaining,
Silly little simpering
Shopgirls,
Condescending artists
“Observing,”
“Perceiving” ...
Well, screw them!
ALL:
Artists are so —
CELESTE #2:
Crazy.
CELESTE #1:
Secretive.
BOATMAN:
High and mighty.
NURSE:
Interesting.
OLD LADY:
Unfeeling.
BOATMAN: What do you do with those drawings, anyway?
(DOT and LOUIS re-enter)
DOT (To LOUIS): That’s George.
(All heads turn, first to DOT, then to GEORGE)
JULES: There’s a move on to include his work in the next group show.
YVONNE: Never!
JULES: I agree.
(Pause)
I agree.
(They exit. Music stops)
CELESTE #1: He draws anyone.
CELESTE #2: Old boatman!
CELESTE #1: Peculiar man.
CELESTE #2: Like his father, I said.
CELESTE #1: I said so first.
(LOUIS escorts DOT to a park bench stage left and exits. She sits with a small red lesson book in hand)
DOT (Very slowly, she reads aloud): “Lesson number eight. Pro-nouns.”
(Proudly, she repeats the word, looking towards GEORGE)
Pronouns.
(She reads)
“What is a pronoun? A pronoun is the word used in the place of a noun. Do you recall what a noun is?”
(Looks up)
Certainly, I recall.
(She pauses, then quickly flips back in the book to the earlier lesson on nouns. She nods her head knowingly, then flips back to the present lesson. She reads)
“Example: Charles has a book. Marie wants Charles’ book.”
(To herself)
Not Marie again . . .
(Reads)
“Marie wants his book. Fill in the blanks. Charles ran with Marie’s ball. Charles ran with . . .”
(She writes as she spells aloud)
h-e-r ball.
(To herself)
Get the ball back, Marie.
(LOUISE dashes in upstage)
OLD LADY: Children should not go unattended.
NURSE: She is very young to be alone.
OLD LADY: I do not like what I see today, Nurse.
NURSE (Confused): What do you see?
OLD LADY: Lack of discipline.
NURSE: Oh.
OLD LADY: Not the right direction at all.
BOATMAN: Fools rowing. Call that recreation!
GEORGE: Almost finished.
(LOUISE has come up to pet the dog. BOATMAN turns on her in a fury)
BOATMAN: Get away from that dog!
(All eyes turn to the BATMAN. LOUISE screams and goes running offstage crying)
GEORGE: That was hardly necessary!
BOATMAN: How do you know what’s necessary? Who are you, with your fancy pad and crayons? You call that work? You smug goddam holier-than-thou shitty little men in your fancy clothes — born with pens and pencils, not pricks! You don’t know . . .
(BOATMAN storms off. GEORGE, stunned, begins to draw the dog)
CELESTE #1 (To GEORGE): Well, what are you going to do —now that you have no one to draw?
CELESTE #2: Sshh. Don’t talk to him.
GEORGE: I am drawing this dog.
CELESTE #2: His dog!
CELESTE #1: Honestly . . .
GEORGE: I have already sketched you ladies.
CELESTE #1: What!
CELESTE #2: You have?
(The CELESTES approach GEORGE)
CELESTE #1: I do not believe you.
CELESTE #2: When?
(During the above, the OLD LADY and NURSE have exited)
GEORGE: A few Sundays ago.
CELESTE #1: But we never sat for you.
GEORGE: I studied you from afar.
CELESTE #2.: No!
CELESTE #1: Where were you?
CELESTE #2: I want to see.
GEORGE: Some day you shall.
THE CELESTES: When?
GEORGE: Good day.
(GEORGE moves upstage)
CELESTE #1: He did not so much as ask.
CELESTE #2: No respect for a person’s privacy.
CELESTE #1: I would not sit for him anyway.
CELESTE #2: Probably that’s why he did not ask.
(They exit)
GEORGE (From across the stage to DOT): Good afternoon.
DOT (Surprised): Hello.
GEORGE: Lesson number eight?
DOT: Yes. Pr
onouns. My writing is improving. I even keep notes in the back of the book.
GEORGE: Good for you.
DOT: How is your painting coming along?
GEORGE: Slowly.
DOT: Are you getting more work done now that you have fewer distractions in the studio?
GEORGE (Beat; he moves closer): It has been quiet there.
(LOUIS bounds onstage with a pastry tin)
LOUIS: Dot. I made your favorite —
(He stops when he sees GEORGE)
GEORGE: Good day.
(He retreats across the stage. DOT watches him, then turns to LOUIS)
LOUIS (Opens the tin): Creampuffs!
( Music. He begins to lose himself in his work. Lights change, leaving the dog onstage. GEORGE sketches the dog)
GEORGE (Sings):
If the head was smaller.
If the tail were longer.
If he faced the water.
If the paws were hidden.
If the neck was darker.
If the back was curved.
More like the parasol.
Bumbum bum bumbumbum
Bumbum bum . . .
More shade.
More tail.
More grass . . .
Would you like some more grass?
Mmmm . . .
SPOT (GEORGE) (Barks):
Rum Ruff!
Thanks, the week has been
(Barks)
Rough!
When you’re stuck for life on a garbage scow —
(Sniffs around)
Only forty feet long from stern to prow,
And a crackpot in the bow — wow, rough!
(Sniffs)
The planks are rough
And the wind is rough
And the master’s drunk and mean and —
(Sniffs)
Grrrruff! Gruff!
With the fish and scum
And planks and ballast,
(Sniffs)
The nose gets numb
And the paws get calloused.
And with splinters in your ass,
You look forward to the grass
On Sunday.
The day off.
(Barks)
Off! Off! Off!
Off!
The grass needs to be thicker. Perhaps a few weeds. With some ants, if you would. I love fresh ants.
Roaming around on Sunday,
Poking among the roots and rocks.
Nose to the ground on Sunday,
Studying all the shoes and socks.
Everything’s worth it Sunday,
The day off.
(Sniffs)
Bits of pastry.
(Sniffs)
Piece of chicken.
(Sniffs)
Here’s a handkerchief
That somebody was sick in.
(Sniffs)
There’s a thistle.
(Sniffs)
That’s a shallot.
(Sniffs)
That’s a dripping
From the loony with the palette.
(A cut-out of a pug dog, FIFI, appears)
FIFI (GEORGE):
Yap! Yap!
(Pants)
Yap!
(High voice)
Out for the day on Sunday,
Off of my lady’s lap at last.
Yapping away on Sunday
Helps you forget the week just past —
(Yelps)
Yep! Yep!
Everything’s worth it Sunday,
The day off.
Yep!
Stuck all week on a lady’s lap,
Nothing to do but yawn and nap,
Can you blame me if I yap?
SPOT:
Nope.
FIFI: There’s just so much attention a dog can take.
Being alone on Sunday,
Rolling around in mud and dirt —
SPOT:
Begging a bone on Sunday,
Settling for a spoiled dessert —
FIFI:
Everything’s worth it
SPOT:
Sunday —
FIFI:
The day off.
SPOT (Sniffs):
Something fuzzy.
FIFI (Sniffs):
Something furry.
SPOT (Sniffs):
Something pink
That someone tore off in a hurry.
FIFI:
What’s the muddle
In the middle?
SPOT:
That’s the puddle
Where the poodle did the piddle.
(Cut-out of HORN PLAYER rises from the stage. Two horn calls. Music continues under. Enter FRANZ; FRIEDA, his wife; the CELESTES, with fishing poles; and NURSE)
GEORGE (Sings):
Taking the day on Sunday,
Now that the dreary week is dead.
Getting away on Sunday
Brightens the dreary week ahead.
Everyone’s on display on Sunday —
ALL:
The day off!
(GEORGE flips open a page of his sketchbook and starts to sketch the NURSE as she clucks at the ducks)
GEORGE:
Bonnet flapping,
Bustle sliding,
Like a rocking horse that nobody’s been riding.
There’s a daisy —
And some clover —
And that interesting fellow looking over . . .
OLD LADY (Offstage): Nurse!
NURSE and GEORGE (Sing):
One day is much like any other,
Listening to her snap and drone.
NURSE:
Still, Sunday with someone’s dotty mother
Is better than Sunday with your own.
Mothers may drone, mothers may whine —
Tending to his, though, is perfectly fine.
It pays for the nurse that is tending to mine
On Sunday,
My day off.
(The CELESTES, fishing. Music continues under)
CELESTE #2: This is just ridiculous.
CELESTE #1: Why shouldn’t we fish?
CELESTE #2: No one will notice us anyway.
(SOLDIER enters, attached to a life-size cut-out of another soldier, his COMPANION)
CELESTE #1: Look.
CELESTE #2: Where?
CELESTE #1: Soldiers.
CELESTE #2: Alone.
CELESTE #1: What did I tell you?
CELESTE #2: They’ll never talk to us if we fish. Why don’t we —
CELESTE #1: It’s a beautiful day for fishing.
(She smiles in the direction of the SOLDIERS)
SOLDIER (Looking to his COMPANION): What do you think?
(Beat)
I like the one in the light hat.
(LOUISE enters, notices FRIEDA and FRANZ, and dashes over to them)
LOUISE: Frieda, Frieda —
FRANZ: Oh, no.
FRIEDA (Speaks with a German accent): Not now, Louise.
LOUISE: I want to play.
FRANZ: Go away, Louise. We are not working today.
LOUISE: Let’s go throw stones at the ducks.
FRIEDA: Louise! Do not throw stones at the ducks!
LOUISE: Why not?
FRANZ: You know why not, and you know this is our day off, so go find your mother and throw some stones at her, why don’t you.
(He begins to choke LOUISE; FRIEDA releases his grip)
FRIEDA: Franz!
LOUISE: I’m telling.
FRANZ: Good. Go!
(LOUISE exits)
FRIEDA: Franzel — relax.
FRANZ: Ja . . . relax.
(He opens a bottle of wine. GEORGE flips a page and starts to sketch FRANZ and FRIEDA)
GEORGE and FRIEDA (Sing):
Second bottle . . .
GEORGE and FRANZ (As FRANZ looks off at NURSE) :
Ah, she looks for me ...
FRIEDA:
He is bursting to go ...
FRANZ:
FRIEDA:
I could let him . . .
FRANZ:
How to manage it — ?
FRIEDA:
No.
(Speaks)
You know, Franz — I believe that artist is drawing us.
FRANZ: Who?
FRIEDA: Monsieur’s friend.
FRANZ (Sees GEORGE. They pose): Monsieur would never think to draw us! We are only people he looks down upon.
(Pause)
I should have been an artist. I was never intended for work.
FRIEDA: Artists work, Franz. I believe they work very hard.
FRANZ: Work! ... We work.
(Sings)
We serve their food,
We carve their meat,
We tend to their house,
We polish their
Silverware.
FRIEDA:
The food we serve
We also eat.
FRANZ:
For them we rush,
Wash and brush,
Wipe and wax —
FRIEDA:
Franz, relax.
FRANZ:
While he “creates,”
We scrape their plates
And dust their knickknacks,
Hundreds to the shelf.
Work is what you do for others,
Liebchen,
Art is what you do for yourself.
(JULES enters, as if looking for someone. Notices GEORGE instead)
JULES: Working on Sunday again? You should give yourself a day off.
GEORGE: Why?
JULES: You must need time to replenish — or does your well never run dry?
(Laughs; notices FRIEDA and FRANZ)
Drawing my servants? Certainly, George, you could find more colorful subjects.
GEORGE: Who should I be sketching?
JULES: How about that pretty friend of yours. Now why did I see her arm-in-arm with the baker today?
(GEORGE looks up)
Four by Sondheim Page 40