Pygmalion and Three Other Plays (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by George Bernard Shaw

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER I tell you it’s dangerous to keep me. I can’t keep awake and alert.

  ELLIE What do you run away for? To sleep?

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER No. To get a glass of rum.

  ELLIE [frightfully disillusioned] Is that it? How disgusting! Do you like being drunk?

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER No: I dread being drunk more than anything in the world. To be drunk means to have dreams; to go soft; to be easily pleased and deceived; to fall into the clutches of women. Drink does that for you when you are young. But when you are old: very very old, like me, the dreams come by themselves. You don’t know how terrible that is: you are young: you sleep at night only, and sleep soundly. But later on you will sleep in the afternoon. Later still you will sleep even in the morning; and you will awake tired, tired of life. You will never be free from dozing and dreams; the dreams will steal upon your work every ten minutes unless you can awaken yourself with rum. I drink now to keep sober; but the dreams are conquering: rum is not what it was: I have had ten glasses since you came; and it might be so much water. Go get me another: Guinness knows where it is. You had better see for yourself the horror of an old man drinking.

  ELLIE You shall not drink. Dream. I like you to dream. You must never be in the real world when we talk together.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER I am too weary to resist, or too weak. I am in my second childhood. I do not see you as you really are. I can’t remember what I really am. I feel nothing but the accursed happiness I have dreaded all my life long: the happiness that comes as life goes, the happiness of yielding and dreaming instead of resisting and doing, the sweetness of the fruit that is going rotten.

  ELLIE You dread it almost as much as I used to dread losing my dreams and having to fight and do things. But that is all over for me: my dreams are dashed to pieces. I should like to marry a very old, very rich man. I should like to marry you. I had much rather marry you than marry Mangan. Are you very rich?

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER No. Living from hand to mouth. And I have a wife somewhere in Jamaica: a black one. My first wife. Unless she’s dead.

  ELLIE What a pity! I feel so happy with you. [She takes his hand, almost unconsciously, and pats it.] I thought I should never feel happy again.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER Why?

  ELLIE Don’t you know?

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER No.

  ELLIE Heartbreak. I fell in love with Hector, and didn’t know he was married.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER Heartbreak? Are you one of those who are so sufficient to themselves that they are only happy when they are stripped of everything, even of hope?

  ELLIE [gripping the hand] It seems so; for I feel now as if there was nothing I could not do, because I want nothing.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER That’s the only real strength. That’s genius. That’s better than rum.

  ELLIE [throwing away his hand] Rum! Why did you spoil it? HECTOR and RANDALL come in from the garden through the starboard door.

  HECTOR I beg your pardon. We did not know there was anyone here.

  ELLIE [rising] That means that you want to tell Mr Randall the story about the tiger. Come, Captain: I want to talk to my father; and you had better come with me.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [rising] Nonsense! the man is in bed.

  ELLIE Aha! I’ve caught you. My real father has gone to bed; but the father you gave mele is in the kitchen. You knew quite well all along. Come. [She draws him out into the garden with her through the port door.]

  HECTOR That’s an extraordinary girl. She has the Ancient Mariner on a string like a Pekinese dog.

  RANDALL Now that they have gone, shall we have a friendly chat?

  HECTOR You are in what is supposed to be my house. I am at your disposal.

  HECTOR sits down in the draughtsman’s chair, turning it to face RANDALL, who remains standing, leaning at his ease against the carpenter’s bench.

  RANDALL I take it that we may be quite frank. I mean about Lady Utterword.

  HECTOR You may. I have nothing to be frank about. I never met her until this afternoon.

  RANDALL [straightening up] What! But you are her sister’s husband.

  HECTOR Well, if you come to that, you are her husband’s brother.

  RANDALL But you seem to be on intimate terms with her.

  HECTOR So do you.

  RANDALL Yes: but I am on intimate terms with her. I have known her for years.

  HECTOR It took her years to get to the same point with you that she got to with me in five minutes, it seems.

  RANDALL [vexed] Really, Ariadne is the limit [he moves away huffishly towards the windows].

  HECTOR [coolly] She is, as I remarked to Hesione, a very enterprising woman.

  RANDALL [returning, much troubled] You see, Hushabye, you are what women consider a good-looking man.

  HECTOR I cultivated that appearance in the days of my vanity; and Hesione insists on my keeping it up. She makes me wear these ridiculous things [indicating his Arab costume] because she thinks me absurd in evening dress.

  RANDALL Still, you do keep it up, old chap. Now, I assure you I have not an atom of jealousy in my disposition—

  HECTOR The question would seem to be rather whether your brother has any touch of that sort.

  RANDALL What! Hastings! Oh, don’t trouble about Hastings. He has the gift of being able to work sixteen hours a day at the dullest detail, and actually likes it. That gets him to the top wherever he goes. As long as Ariadne takes care that he is fed regularly, he is only too thankful to anyone who will keep her in good humor for him.

  HECTOR And as she has all the Shotover fascination, there is plenty of competition for the job, eh?

  RANDALL [angrily] She encourages them. Her conduct is perfectly scandalous. I assure you, my dear fellow, I haven’t an atom of jealousy in my composition; but she makes herself the talk of every place she goes to by her thoughtlessness. It’s nothing more: she doesn’t really care for the men she keeps hanging about her; but how is the world to know that? It’s not fair to Hastings. It’s not fair to me.

  HECTOR Her theory is that her conduct is so correct—

  RANDALL Correct! She does nothing but make scenes from morning till night. You be careful, old chap. She will get you into trouble: that is, she would if she really cared for you.

  HECTOR Doesn’t she?

  RANDALL Not a scrap. She may want your scalp to add to her collection; but her true affection has been engaged years ago. You had really better be careful.

  HECTOR Do you suffer much from this jealousy?

  RANDALL Jealousy! I jealous! My dear fellow, haven’t I told you that there is not an atom of—

  HECTOR Yes. And Lady Utterword told me she never made scenes. Well, don’t waste your jealousy on my moustache. Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary hero that supplants us all in the long run. Besides, jealousy does not belong to your easy man-of-the-world pose, which you carry so well in other respects.

  RANDALL Really, Hushabye, I think a man may be allowed to be a gentleman without being accused of posing.

  HECTOR It is a pose like any other. In this house we know all the poses: our game is to find out the man under the pose. The man under your pose is apparently Ellie’s favorite, Othello.

  RANDALL Some of your games in this house are damned annoying, let me tell you.

  HECTOR Yes: I have been their victim for many years. I used to writhe under them at first; but I became accustomed to them. At last I learned to play them.

  RANDALL If it’s all the same to you I had rather you didn’t play them on me. You evidently don’t quite understand my character, or my notions of good form.

  HECTOR Is it your notion of good form to give away Lady Utterword?

  RANDALL [a childishly plaintive note breaking into his huff] I have not said a word against Lady Utterword. This is just the conspiracy over again.

  HECTOR What conspiracy?

  RANDALL You know very well, sir. A conspiracy to make me out to be pettish and jealous and childish and
everything I am not. Everyone knows I am just the opposite.

  HECTOR [rising] Something in the air of the house has upset you. It often does have that effect. [He goes to the garden door and calls LADY UTTERWORD with commanding emphasis.] Ariadne!

  LADY UTTERWORD [at some distance] Yes.

  RANDALL What are you calling her for? I want to speak—

  LADY UTTERWORD [arriving breathless] Yes. You really are a terribly commanding person. What’s the matter?

  HECTOR I do not know how to manage your friend Randall. No doubt you do.

  LADY UTTERWORD Randall: have you been making yourself ridiculous, as usual? I can see it in your face. Really, you are the most pettishlf creature.

  RANDALL You know quite well, Ariadne, that I have not an ounce of pettishness in my disposition. I have made myself perfectly pleasant here. I have remained absolutely cool and imperturbable in the face of a burglar. Imperturbability is almost too strong a point of mine. But [putting his foot down with a stamp, and walking angrily up and down the room] I insist on being treated with a certain consideration. I will not allow Hushabye to take liberties with me. I will not stand your encouraging people as you do.

  HECTOR The man has a rooted delusion that he is your husband.

  LADY UTTERWORD I know. He is jealous. As if he had any right to be! He compromises me everywhere. He makes scenes all over the place. Randall: I will not allow it. I simply will not allow it. You had no right to discuss me with Hector. I will not be discussed by men.

  HECTOR Be reasonable, Ariadne. Your fatal gift of beauty forces men to discuss you.

  LADY UTTERWORD Oh indeed! what about your fatal gift of beauty?

  HECTOR How can I help it?

  LADY UTTERWORD You could cut off your moustache: I can’t cut off my nose. I get my whole life messed up with people falling in love with me. And then Randall says I run after men.

  RANDALL I—

  LADY UTTERWORD Yes you do: you said it just now. Why can’t you think of something else than women? Napoleon was quite right when he said that women are the occupation of the idle man. Well, if ever there was an idle man on earth, his name is Randall Utterword.

  RANDALL Ariad—

  LADY UTTERWORD [overwhelming him with a torrent of words] Oh yes you are: it’s no use denying it. What have you ever done? What good are you? You are as much trouble in the house as a child of three. You couldn’t live without your valet.

  RANDALL This is—

  LADY UTTERWORD Laziness! You are laziness incarnate. You are selfishness itself. You are the most uninteresting man on earth. You can’t even gossip about anything but yourself and your grievances and your ailments and the people who have offended you. [Turning to HECTOR.] Do you know what they call him, Hector?

  LADY UTTERWORD Randall the Rotter: that is his name in good society.

  RANDALL [shouting] I’ll not bear it, I tell you. Will you listen to me, you infernal—[he chokes].

  LADY UTTERWORD Well: go on. What were you going to call me? An infernal what? Which unpleasant animal is it to be this time?

  RANDALL [foaming] There is no animal in the world so hateful as a woman can be. You are a maddening devil. Hushabye, you will not believe me when I tell you that I have loved this demon all my life; but God knows I have paid for it [he sits down in the draughtsman’s chair, weeping].

  LADY UTTERWORD [standing over him with triumphant contempt] Cry-baby!

  HECTOR [gravely, coming to him] My friend, the Shotover sisters have two strange powers over men. They can make them love; and they can make them cry. Thank your stars that you are not married to one of them.

  LADY UTTERWORD [haughtily] And pray, Hector—

  HECTOR [suddenly catching her round the shoulders: swinging her right round him and away from RANDALL: and gripping her throat with the other hand] Ariadne, if you attempt to start on me, I’ll choke you: do you hear? The cat-and-mouse game with the other sex is a good game; but I can play your head off at it. [He throws her, not at all gently, into the big chair, and proceeds, less fiercely but firmly.] It is true that Napoleon said that woman is the occupation of the idle man. But he added that she is the relaxation of the warrior. Well, I am the warrior. So take care.

  LADY UTTERWORD [not in the least put out, and rather pleased by his violence] My dear Hector, I have only done what you asked me to do.

  HECTOR How do you make that out, pray?

  LADY UTTERWORD You called me in to manage Randall, didn’t you? You said you couldn’t manage him yourself.

  HECTOR Well, what if I did? I did not ask you to drive the man mad.

  LADY UTTERWORD He isn’t mad. That’s the way to manage him. If you were a mother, you’d understand.

  HECTOR Mother! What are you up to now?

  LADY UTTERWORD Its quite simple. When the children got nerves and were naughty, I smacked them just enough to give them a good cry and a healthy nervous shock. They went to sleep and were quite good afterwards. Well, I can’t smack Randall: he is too big; so when he gets nerves and is naughty, I just rag him till he cries. He will be all right now. Look: he is half asleep already [which is quite true].

  RANDALL [waking up indignantly] I’m not. You are most cruel, Ariadne. [Sentimentally.] But I suppose I must forgive you, as usual [he checks himself in the act of yawning].

  LADY UTTERWORD [to HECTOR] Is the explanation satisfactory, dread warrior?

  HECTOR Some day I shall kill you, if you go too far. I thought you were a fool.

  LADY UTTERWORD [laughing] Everybody does, at first. But I am not such a fool as I look. [She rises complacently.] Now, Randall, go to bed. You will be a good boy in the morning.

  RANDALL [only very faintly rebellious] I’ll go to bed when I like. It isn’t ten yet.

  LADY UTTERWORD It is long past ten. See that he goes to bed at once, Hector. [She goes into the garden.]

  HECTOR Is there any slavery on earth viler than this slavery of men to women?

  RANDALL [rising resolutely] I’ll not speak to her tomorrow. I’ll not speak to her for another week. I’ll give her such a lesson. I’ll go straight to bed without bidding her good-night. [He makes for the door leading to the hall.]

  HECTOR You are under a spell, man. Old Shotover sold himself to the devil in Zanzibar. The devil gave him a black witch for a wife; and these two demon daughters are their mystical progeny. I am tied to Hesione’s apron-string; but I’m her husband; and if I did go stark staring mad about her, at least we became man and wife. But why should you let yourself be dragged about and beaten by Ariadne as a toy donkey is dragged about and beaten by a child? What do you get by it? Are you her lover?

  RANDALL You must not misunderstand me. In a higher sense—in a Platonic sense—

  HECTOR Psha! Platonic sense! She makes you her servant; and when pay-day comes round, she bilks you: that is what you mean.

  RANDALL [feebly] Well, if I don’t mind, I don’t see what business it is of yours. Besides, I tell you I am going to punish her. You shall see: I know how to deal with women. I’m really very sleepy. Say good-night to Mrs Hushabye for me, will you, like a good chap. Good-night. [He hurries out.]

  HECTOR Poor wretch! Oh women! women! women! [He lifts his fists in invocation to heaven.] Fall. Fall and crush.11 [He goes out into the garden.]

  ACT III

  In the garden, Hector, as he comes out through the glass door of the poop, finds Lady Utterword lying voluptuously in the hammock on the east side of the flagstaff, in the circle of light cast by the electric arc, which is like a moon in its opal globe. Beneath the head of the hammock, a campstool. On the other side of the flagstaff, on the long garden seat, Captain Shotover is asleep, with Ellie beside him, leaning affectionately against him on his right hand. On his left is a deck chair. Behind them in the gloom, Hesione is strolling about with Mangan. It is a fine still night, moonless.

  LADY UTTERWORD What a lovely night! It seems made for us.

  HECTOR The night takes no interest in us. What are we to the nigh
t? [He sits down moodily in the deck chair.]

  ELLIE [dreamily, nestling against the captain] Its beauty soaks into my nerves. In the night there is peace for the old and hope for the young.

  HECTOR Is that remark your own?

  ELLIE No. Only the last thing the captain said before he went to sleep.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER I’m not asleep.

  HECTOR Randall is. Also Mr Mazzini Dunn. Mangan, too, probably.

  MANGAN No.

  HECTOR Oh, you are there. I thought Hesione would have sent you to bed by this time.

  MRS HUSHABYE [coming to the back of the garden seat, into the light, with MANGAN] I think I shall. He keeps telling me he has a presentiment that he is going to die. I never met a man so greedy for sympathy.

  MANGAN [plaintively] But I have a presentiment. I really have. And you wouldn’t listen.

  MRS HUSHABYE I was listening for something else. There was a sort of splendid drumming in the sky. Did none of you hear it? It came from a distance and then died away.

  MANGAN I tell you it was a train.

  MRS HUSHABYE And I tell you, Alf, there is no train at this hour. The last is nine forty-five.

  MANGAN But a goods train.

  MRS HUSHABYE Not on our little line. They tack a truck on to the passenger train. What can it have been, Hector?

  HECTOR Heaven’s threatening growl of disgust at us useless futile creatures. [Fiercely.] I tell you, one of two things must happen. Either out of that darkness some new creation will come to supplant us as we have supplanted the animals, or the heavens will fall in thunder and destroy us.

  LADY UTTERWORD [in a cool instructive manner, wallowing comfortably in her hammock] We have not supplanted the animals, Hector. Why do you ask heaven to destroy this house, which could be made quite comfortable if Hesione had any notion of how to live? Don’t you know what is wrong with it?

  HECTOR We are wrong with it. There is no sense in us. We are useless, dangerous, and ought to be abolished.

  LADY UTTERWORD Nonsense! Hastings told me the very first day he came here, nearly twenty-four years ago, what is wrong with the house.

  CAPTAIN SHOTOVER What! The numskull said there was something wrong with my house!