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Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence

Page 747

by D. H. Lawrence


  HARRY: A’ right, ma’e it my fault.

  RACHEL: As much as mine, I said.

  HARRY: Dunna let me stop thee from ha’ein’ Job Arthur.

  RACHEL: Job Arthur’s a man as can play his own tune on any mortal woman, brazen as brass, or cuddlin’ as a fiddle —

  HARRY: Or as ronk as an old mouth organ.

  RACHEL: Or like a bagpipe as wants squeezin’, or a mandolin as wants tickling. He gets a tune out of the whole job lot, the whole band —

  HARRY: Shut up.

  RACHEL: But I’ll buy you a cuckoo-clock to keep you company.

  HARRY: I’ll buy my own.

  RACHEL (flapping her arms suddenly at him): Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

  CURTAIN

  ACT V

  SCENE I

  The Sunday following the last scene. The porch of Grunstom Church. The HEMSTOCKS have attended the post-funeral service. Mourners are leaving the church.

  1ST MOURNER: Well, I niver knowed the likes —

  2ND MOURNER: What?

  1ST MOURNER: Nurse Broadbanks to be axed wi’ old Hezekiah Wilcox, an’ Job Arthur Bowers wi’ Rachel Wilcox.

  3RD MOURNER: An’ what about it?

  1ST MOURNER: Well, I never thought Nurse would have him an’ everybody said Job Arthur would never marry now.

  2ND MOURNER: I’m not surprised at neither of ‘em.

  1ST MOURNER: I was never more taken in in my life.

  Exit 1ST and 2ND MOURNERS.

  SUSY: No.

  3RD MOURNER: I don’t call it decent — two sets of banns put up at a funeral Sunday. They might ha’ waited till next week.

  SUSY: I’m going to see about this.

  3RD MOURNER: Yes, th’ old Baron wants telling, the old nuisance, for he’s nothing else.

  Exit SUSY and 3RD MOURNER.

  4TH MOURNER (sighing): That did me good. I’m sure I’ve fair cried my eyes up.

  5TH MOURNER: You can’t make out half the old Baron says, but he makes you feel funny.

  4TH MOURNER: As if you’d got ghosts in your bowels. An’ when he said — what was it?

  5TH MOURNER: Was it Hezekiah Wilcox wi’ Nurse Broadbanks?

  4TH MOURNER: Yes — fancy ‘em both bein’ there to hear it. What a come-down for her.

  5TH MOURNER: I dunno. The old chap’s tidy well off —

  4TH MOURNER: But he’s mushy — he slavers like a slobbering spaniel —

  5TH MOURNER: Well, women like that sort.

  Exit 4TH and 5TH MOURNERS.

  MR HEMSTOCK: I allers thought ‘er’d a worn widow’s weeds for me —

  HARRY: Dost wish it wor that road about?

  MR HEMSTOCK: Nay, I non know —

  HARRY: Are ter stoppin’?

  MR HEMSTOCK: I want ter speak ter Nurse.

  HARRY: I’m goin’ then.

  MR HEMSTOCK: Dunna thee — tha wait a bit.

  HARRY: Nay.

  Exit HARRY.

  BAKER (in very genteel black): Good morning, Mr Hemstock.

  MR HEMSTOCK: Good morning.

  BAKER: We got more than we bargained for.

  MR HEMSTOCK: Yes, a bit surprisin’.

  BAKER: I’m going to strike — Nurse for a mother-in-law is too much for a good thing. Why, bless me, you want to be careful what relatives you have — some you can’t help — but a mother-in-law, you can.

  MR HEMSTOCK: I want to speak to Nurse.

  MR WILCOX (frock-coated): You’ve ‘ad a big loss, Mr Hemstock — I’ve been through it myself, so I know what it is.

  BAKER: Here, I say, Hezekiah — I don’t mind you for a father-in-law —

  MR WILCOX: Hello, Job Arthur! Well, I never! I am surprised, I can tell you.

  BAKER: So’m I.

  MR WILCOX: But it’s a glad surprise — I’d rather say “My son” to you, Job Arthur —

  BAKER: Hold on a bit, Hezekiah; you’ve always stood me as a good uncle, let’s leave it at that.

  MR WILCOX: I’ll make you a wedding present of it, Job Arthur — that little thing, you know.

  BAKER: I do, worse luck! I’ve pledged my soul and my honour to you, uncle, my uncle on the pop-shop side, but my body’s my ewe lamb — I don’t sell. Good morning, Dr Foules.

  DR FOULES: Good morning. Er — excuse me — but Nurse Broadbanks has not gone yet?

  BAKER: Not yet, Doctor. Here’s her husband-that-is-to-be waiting for her.

  DR FOULES: Ha!

  MR WILCOX: Nurse has not gone yet, Doctor.

  DR FOULES: Thank you.

  BAKER: Let’s have a look! (He peeps into the church.) Oh — oh Baron, may I speak to you?

  Enter BARON, in surplice, with BARONESS and NURSE.

  BARON: And you, what have you to say?

  BAKER: Not much. Only there’s a bit of an alteration wants makin’. Rachel’s given me the sack.

  BARON: I do not understand, sir.

  BARONESS: He wishes to escape from his promise. He wishes to dodge Rachel.

  BARON: You, sir, have you not given your word?

  BAKER: And you’re welcome keep it, for what it’s worth. But you can’t cork a woman’s promise, Baroness. In short, Baron — and Mr Wilcox — Rachel has asked to be released from her engagement — hem! — with me — and I have felt it my duty to release her. (He bows.)

  BARON: It is an indignity to the Church. It is insult to the Holy Church.

  BARONESS: I do not believe this man. It is his ruse to escape from a bond.

  MR WILCOX: Yes, my lady, that’s what it is — my poor girl — Nurse! Nurse?

  NURSE: Let Rachel come herself.

  BARONESS: She shall.

  BARON (to MR HEMSTOCK): Go and bring Rachel here.

  MR HEMSTOCK (shrugging): Where am I to go?

  NURSE: Please, Mr Hemstock.

  He goes.

  BARON: Sir, I believe you are a scoundrel.

  BAKER: I wouldn’t deny it, Baron.

  MR WILCOX: No — we know him too well — he’d better not begin denyin’.

  NURSE: This is the man, Baron — the — the — the Wilcox.

  BARON: What! What!

  BARONESS: What do you mean, you old wicked man, insulting Nurse in this fashion?

  BARON: You — you — you, sir! If you speak I will cut you down. The double shame, the double blasphemy! Ah! Leave from my sight — go — don’t stir, sir, till you answer.

  DR FOULES: May I ask, Nurse, if I am to congratulate you on your banns?

  NURSE: I should think you have no need to ask. I am ready to die. I am so mortified and ashamed.

  BAKER: Hello — I am only the mote in the eye of the Church, am I? Oh uncle, uncle!

  DR FOULES: Then it is a mistake?

  NURSE: Worse. It is a mean, base contrivance to trap me. I knew nothing of these banns — I could have dropped. He knows I wouldn’t marry him — no, not if — not if —

  BAKER: You died in a ditch with your shoes on. I’m undone this time, curse it. Uncle, have a pound of flesh, will you, instead? I could spare a pound and a half, cut judiciously.

  BARON: What do you say, sir?

  BAKER: I’m inviting him to have his pound of flesh, instead of his two hundred pounds of money. Though it’s dear meat, I own.

  NURSE: What do you mean, Mr Bowers?

  BAKER: I owe him £180, and he’ll foreclose on our house in a couple of months. Then goodbye my bakery, and they cart my old mother to a lunatic asylum, though she’s no more mad than I am.

  BARONESS: And what have you done with the money?

  BAKER: Paid some of my debts, Baroness — and some of it I have — as it were, eaten. So in a pound of flesh he’d get his money glorified.

  BARON: What do you say, sir?

  MR WILCOX: I say nothing.

  CURTAIN

  SCENE II

  The vicarage garden wall, under which runs the path. RACHEL looks over the wall; enter HARRY.

  RACHEL: All by yourself? Where’s the others?

  HARRY: Stopping.

/>   RACHEL: Did they give my father’s banns out?

  HARRY: His’n an’ thine.

  RACHEL: What! Mine! Why, I told Job Arthur as I wouldn’t have him.

  HARRY: ‘Appen so.

  RACHEL: I did. An’ he’s never told the Baron. Whatever shall I do?

  HARRY: What?

  RACHEL: You don’t believe as I told him.

  HARRY: I believe nowt.

  RACHEL: But I did, an’ he’s agreed. And did they ask my father and Nurse?

  HARRY: Yes.

  RACHEL: Oh — but I shan’t have him — I shan’t. The Baron’ll give it me — but I shan’t have him. You needn’t believe me, if you don’t want to.

  HARRY: When did ter tell Job Arthur?

  RACHEL: Yesterday. An’ he was glad. He doesn’t really care for me.

  HARRY: Are ter having me on?

  RACHEL: May I be struck dead this minute if I am.

  HARRY: An’ what shall ter do?

  RACHEL: I don’t know — go to Derby. Perhaps I’ll learn to be a nurse.

  HARRY: She’s marryin’ thy father.

  RACHEL (melting into tears): Don’t — tha’s hurt me enough. (Dashing away her tears.) Well, I must go in and see to the dinner. Then I’ll tell the Baron, and have my head bitten off. (She turns to go.)

  HARRY: Are ter sure tha told Job Arthur?

  RACHEL: Go and ask him.

  HARRY: There’s no tellin’ what tha does.

  RACHEL: No — there isn’t — for the simple reason that I’ve built my house on the sand.

  HARRY: How dost mean?

  RACHEL: You know right enough. Well, I’ll go an’ warm th’ rice pudding up.

  HARRY: Rachel — dost care for me?

  RACHEL: You’ll make me wild in a minute.

  HARRY: Rachel — dunna go — it’s that lonely.

  RACHEL: I s’ll have to go and put that pudding in.

  HARRY: Come down here first — a minute.

  RACHEL: Come you up here.

  HARRY (climbing up): Rachel.

  RACHEL: What?

  HARRY: It seems that quiet-like — dunna go an’ leave me. I go rummagin’ down i’ the loose ground, to look at th’ coffin.

  RACHEL: Do you?

  HARRY: I do. I feel as if I should have to get at her an’ mak’ her speak. I canna stand this dead o’night quiet.

  RACHEL: No.

  HARRY: Comin’ out of church into this sunshine’s like goin’ in a cinematograph show. Things jumps about in a flare of light, an’ you expect it every minute to go out an’ be pitch dark. All the shoutin’ an’ singin’, an’ yet there’s a sort of quiet, Rachel.

  RACHEL: Never mind — it will be so for a bit.

  HARRY: I canna be by myself, though, I canna.

  RACHEL: There are plenty of people.

  HARRY: Nay, I non want ‘em.

  RACHEL: Only Nurse.

  HARRY: Nor her neither — never.

  RACHEL: ‘Appen so.

  HARRY: Tha doesna believe me?

  RACHEL: “I believe nowt.”

  HARRY: I wish I may drop dead this minute if I ever did care for her.

  RACHEL (smiling): You thought you did?

  HARRY: ‘Appen I did think so.

  RACHEL: I know you did.

  HARRY: But ‘er knows nowt about me, like thee.

  RACHEL: No.

  HARRY: Shall ter ha’e me, Rachel?

  RACHEL: You want me?

  HARRY: Let us be married afore the week’s out, Rachel. Dunna leave me by mysen.

  RACHEL: Are you in a hurry now, at the last pinch?

  HARRY: Shall ter, Rachel?

  RACHEL: Yes. (He kisses her.)

  MR HEMSTOCK (entering): I should ha thought you’d more about you than to be kissin’ there where everybody can see you — an’ to-day.

  RACHEL: There’s nobody but you.

  MR HEMSTOCK: You don’t know who there is.

  RACHEL: And I don’t care. We’re going to be married directly.

  MR HEMSTOCK: It’ll look nice, that will — his mother buried yesterday.

  HARRY: It ma’es no difference to her, does it?

  MR HEMSTOCK: Tha’rt a fawce un, Rachel. Tha’s contrived it, after a’. Tha’rt a fawce un, an’ no mistake. But tha’s got to come to the Baron.

  RACHEL: What for?

  MR HEMSTOCK: Nay, dunna ask me. Tha’d better look sharp. Ma’e thy heels crack.

  RACHEL. What’s up now, I wonder?

  They go out.

  CURTAIN

  SCENE III

  The church porch.

  BARON: Do not speak, sir. You have vilified me, you have held up the Church to ridicule.

  MR WILCOX: I can speak, can’t I?

  BARON: Do not speak, you shall not, do not speak. We will not hear your voice. You are a blasphemer.

  MR WILCOX: I can’t see but what a Methodist’s as good as a Church, whatever. What have I done, what have I done?

  BARONESS: What have you done!

  MR WILCOX: Whatever anybody says, there’s nobody can say I’ve never done anything as wan’t right.

  BARON: What, sir, what —

  BAKER: Here’s Rachel.

  SUSY: I’ll bet it’s her doin’s. She’s the deepest I ever met, bar none.

  BARON: Rachel?

  RACHEL: Yes, Baron.

  BARON: Who wrote to see the letter of the banns for your father and Nurse?

  MR WILCOX: I did.

  BARON: Scoundrel! Impostor!

  NURSE: You had not the slightest justification for it.

  DR FOULES: Surely, Nurse, you are flattered. A woman loves a peremptory wooing.

  MR WILCOX: You accepted me on Friday night, Nurse, you know you did.

  NURSE: I did no such thing.

  BAKER: Now, Rachel, speak up. I say you’ve refused me —

  RACHEL: So I have.

  BAKER: Of course. And I forgot to take the banns back.

  RACHEL: That’s your lookout.

  BARON: Rachel! Ah, insolent!

  BAKER: Now, my case settled — did Nurse accept your father? Of course not.

  RACHEL: She did.

  MR WILCOX: There you are.

  NURSE: I did not. I would not demean myself. I did not.

  BARONESS: This is very funny, Nurse.

  BARON: I have spoken the banns.

  MR WILCOX: Come now, Nurse.

  NURSE: You horrid, hateful old man. You know you worked yourself into a state, I thought you were delirious, and I had to promise anything.

  MR WILCOX: A promise is a promise.

  SUSY: Of all the deep-uns, Rachel, you cap all.

  RACHEL: What’s it to do with me?

  NURSE: You pestered and pestered and pestered me.

  DR FOULES: All’s fair in love and war, Nurse.

  BARON: What were the exact words?

  RACHEL: “Yes, yes. I’ll marry you — if you’ll settle down now and go to sleep.”

  NURSE: Why! What! You are an underhand thing.

  RACHEL: What if I did happen to hear?

  NURSE: You were listening!

  RACHEL: I could hear it all.

  NURSE: How hateful, how hateful!

 

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