A. A. Milne

“ NANCY. I don’t feel very young, with a big son wanting to get married.
IRIS. He? He’s only a baby. (She blows a kiss to the picture.)
JACK (resigned) . Oh, Lord!
BROXOPP. Well, Iris, if you’re as happy together as Nancy and I have been, you’ll do. Twenty-five years we have been married, and I always say that if it hadn’t been for Nancy——
NANCY (stopping him) . Yes, dear.
IRIS. If it hadn’t been for Nancy, there wouldn’t have been a Jack for me to marry.
BROXOPP (joining in the general laughter) . Well, that’s true. And what does Sir Roger say about it? ”

“ BROXOPP. Jack, are you serious about this?
JACK (surprised) . Serious? Good Lord, yes.
BROXOPP (nervously) . It’s a risk. What do you say, Nancy?
NANCY. I’m used to risks, dear.
JACK (excitedly) . Of course it’s a risk. That’s what makes it such fun. By Jove, to be really doing something at last! Makes Hens Lay! A Poultry Farm in every back-garden! Eggs on every breakfast-table. Chillingham eggs!
IRIS. Chillingham and bacon for breakfast, Daddy Broxopp.
BROXOPP (shaking his head) . It’s a risk. It will want a lot of capital. What do you say, Nancy? ”

“ WILLIAM (in church) . S’sh!
(There is another solemn silence, and then the Maid opens the door. BLAYDS, in an invalid chair, is wheeled in by ISOBEL. They all stand up. With his long white beard, his still plentiful white hair curling over his ears, OLIVER BLAYDS does indeed “look like somebody.” Only his eyes, under their shaggy brows, are still young. Indomitable spirit and humour gleam in them. With all the dignity, majesty even, which he brings to the part, you feel that he realises what great fun it is being OLIVER BLAYDS.)
BLAYDS. Good-day to you all. ”

“ JACK. My dear girl, any nonsense in my head came there of itself; it wasn’t put in by you.
IRIS. Well, there it was, anyhow. The fact is, Daddy Broxopp, we’ve made a discovery in the last few months.
BROXOPP. Hallo, what’s that?
IRIS. Well, it’s rather important. Are you ready, Jack? (Taking JACK’S hand) We have discovered——
JACK. Once, finally and for all——
IRIS. That Jack Chillingham——
JACK. Né Broxopp——
IRIS. Cannot paint.
JACK. He cannot paint.
JACK and IRIS (together) . He cannot, cannot paint.
NANCY (knowing what it feels like) . Oh, Jack, what a disappointment for you! ”

“ ROYCE. You tied my hand up once.
ISOBEL (smiling) . Well, there you are.... Oh, I daresay it’s just pride, but somehow I can’t take the money. The others can; you were right about that—I was wrong; but they have not been so near to him as I have.... I thought the whole world was at an end at first. But now——
ROYCE. But now you don’t.
ISOBEL. No. I don’t know why. How hopeful we are. How—unbreakable. If I were God, I should be very proud of Man.
ROYCE. Let Him go on being proud of you.
ISOBEL. Oh, I’m tough. You can’t be a nurse without being tough. I shan’t break. ”

“ NANCY. Yes, darling, but I can’t get Ajax properly. He doesn’t look as though he’s defying anything.
BROXOPP (looking at Ajax) . No, he doesn’t, does he? Yet what a touch you had with suspenders in the old days!
NANCY (sadly) . I think suspenders must be easier than Ajaxes—unless, perhaps, it’s because I’m getting old.
BROXOPP (indignantly) . Old? You get younger every day.
NANCY. Of course, in a way it’s fun beginning all over again——
BROXOPP. Fun! It’s Life! Did you ever hear of a man called Stephenson? He invented the first steam-engine. ”

“ JACK. I know it is, but that’s how I’ve felt sometimes. Of course I know that if it hadn’t been for Broxopp, I’d be sitting on a high stool and lucky to earn thirty bob a week. But you must see my side of it, Dad. I want to paint. How can any one called Broxopp be taken seriously as an artist? How can I make any sort of name with all those Beans and babies overshadowing me and keeping me out of the light? I don’t say I’m ever going to be a great painter, but how do I stand a chance as things are? “Have you seen the new Broxopp?” What’s that going to mean to anybody? ”

“ MARION. But I was telling you, dear, that even as a child——
SEPTIMA (to OLIVER) . It’s no good, she’s hopelessly muddled.
[231] WILLIAM. Yes, yes.... Do you wish me to understand——
ISOBEL. I wish you to know the truth. We’ve been living in a lie, all of us, all our lives, and now at last we have found the truth. You talk as if, for some reason, I wanted to spread slanders about Oliver Blayds now that he is dead; as if in some way all this great lie were my doing; as if it were no pain but a sort of a pleasure to me to find out what sort of man my father really was. ”

“ WILLIAM. The whole question is extremely difficult. We may require an arbitrator, or, at any rate, a qualified chartered accountant.
MARION. Yes, that would be better, dear. To let somebody else decide what is fair and what isn’t.
ISOBEL (in a low voice) . Oh, it’s horrible ... horrible.
MARION. What, dear?
ISOBEL. The way you talk—about the money. As if all that we had lost was so much money. As if you could estimate the wrong that Oliver Blayds did to his friend in the terms of money. I said the money was tainted. It is. How can you bear to touch it? ”

“ LEONARD. Come and keep us company. (To EUSTASIA, who is tucking him up) Thanks, Eustasia, thanks. That’s quite all right.
EUSTASIA. Another cushion for your back, darling?
LEONARD. No, thanks.
EUSTASIA. Quite sure?
LEONARD. Quite sure, thanks.
EUSTASIA. I can easily get it for you.
LEONARD (weakly) . Oh, very well.
EUSTASIA. That’s right. (Getting the cushion) You must be comfortable. Now, are you sure that’s all right?
LEONARD. Quite all right, thank you.
EUSTASIA. Sure, darling? Anything else you want, I can get it for you at once. A rug over your knees?
LEONARD. No, thank you, Eustasia. ”

“ I told myself that one day I would make my name of Broxopp famous. I made it famous. My name; Broxopp. Well, that’s all. That’s my point of view. But don’t think I don’t see yours.
(IRIS looks at him wonderingly and then goes over and sits by NANCY’S side.)
IRIS. You must be very, very proud of him.
NANCY. I am, dear; he knows it.
JACK (miserably) . Well, of course, when you talk like that, you only make me feel an utter beast.
IRIS (with a sigh) . The only thing is that the utter beast feeling might pass off. Whereas the feeling about Broxopp’s Beans never will. ”

“ If so, nobody will rejoice in your happiness more than I. I shall not say, “You have no right to be happy together. Leonard must remain with his lawfully-wedded Eustasia.” Believe me, I do not waste my money, my time, my breath in upholding the sanctity of an unhappy marriage. I was brought up in the sanctity of an unhappy marriage; even as a child I knew all about it. (Less seriously) But oh, my dear Anne, let us have a little common sense before we adventure marriage with a man who is always making a mess of it. We know what Leonard is—how perfectly hopeless as a husband. ”

“ ISOBEL (looking at him fixedly) . Or self-deception.
WILLIAM (misunderstanding her) . Exactly. Well, in short, I suggest there never was anybody called Jenkins.
ISOBEL (brightly—after a pause) . Wouldn’t it be nice?
WILLIAM. One can understand how upon his death-bed a man feels the need of confession, of forgiveness and absolution. It may well be that Oliver Blayds, instinctively feeling this need, bared his soul to you, not of some real misdeed of his own, but of some imaginary misdeed with which, by who knows what association of ideas, his mind had become occupied. ”

“ You know, Noll, there are times when I think that possibly we have misjudged Blayds.
OLIVER. Blayds the poet or Blayds the man?
SEPTIMA. Blayds the man. After all, Uncle Thomas was devoted to him, and he was rather particular. Wasn’t he, Mr. Royce?
ROYCE. I don’t think I know your Uncle Thomas, do I?
SEPTIMA. He wasn’t mine, he was mother’s.
OLIVER. The Sage of Chelsea.
ROYCE. Oh, Carlyle. Surely——
SEPTIMA. Mother called them all “uncle” in her day.
ROYCE. Well, now, there you are. That’s one of the most charming things about Oliver Blayds. He has always had a genius for friendship. ”

“ Indeed, the whole play gives us the impression of having been written to the order of a manager as a means of displaying this or that “line” which, in the language of the day, he can “do just now.” Soliloquies (unhampered by the presence of rivals) for the popular star, a mad scene for the leading lady (in white) , a ghost for the electrician, a duel for the Academy-trained fencers, a scene in dumb-show for the cinema-trained rank-and-file—our author has provided for them all. No doubt there is money in it, and a man must live. But frankly we prefer Mr. Shakespeare as a writer of sonnets. ”

“ It isn’t what a gentleman would do.
NANCY (patting his hand) . It’s what a husband would do. That’s what wives are for—to make their husbands comfy.
BROXOPP. Well, dear, never hesitate to tell me any little thing you notice about me. I never drop my aitches now, do I?
NANCY (smiling lovingly at him) . Never, darling.
BROXOPP (complacently) . Very few people could have got out of that in a year. But then (raising his hand with a gesture of pride) Broxopp is not like—— Dear me, have I been wearing my hat all the time?
NANCY. Yes, darling, I love you in your hat. ”

“ MARION. Septima, dear, I don’t think that’s quite——
(SEPTIMA begins to laugh to herself at the picture of them.)
OLIVER. That isn’t fair, Tim. An extreme case makes anything seem absurd. (Earnestly to ISOBEL) You know, I do see what you mean and I do sympathise. But even if we kept all the money, would that matter very much? All this man Jenkins wanted was to leave an immortal name behind him. ”

“ NANCY. Talking to Jack’s friends— (BROXOPP doesn’t exactly say anything) enjoying yourself from morning till night.
BROXOPP. You, too, Nancy. A house always full of people—plenty of servants to look after—bazaars to open—society——
NANCY (with a sigh) . Yes!
(They are silent again. Then BROXOPP—sure that they are alone—brings his chair a little nearer to Nancy’s.)
BROXOPP. You know, Nancy, sometimes I have hoped—I mean, I have thought—that perhaps Sir Roger—that perhaps he is being a little reckless—a little foolish—that perhaps——
NANCY (eagerly) . Oh, Jim! Do you think he is? ”

“ Benham.
BENHAM. You all make too much of your Mr. Broxopp, my girl. After all, who is he? What’s his family?
ALICE. Well, there’s only Mr. Jack, of course.
BENHAM (contemptuously) . Mr. Jack isn’t “family,” my girl. Mr. Jack is “hissue.” Not but what Mr. Jack is very well in his way. Eton and Oxford—I’ve nothing to say against that, though I happen to be [18] Cambridge myself. But who’s the family? Broxopp! There isn’t such a family.
ALICE. Well, but I’m sure he’s very rich, Mr. Benham.
BENHAM. Rich, yes, but what does he do with his money? Does he hunt or shoot? Does he entertain? ”

“ What I say is this, Nancy. If a man can’t kiss his own wife, on his own sofa, without being interrupted, he isn’t living in a home at all; he’s living in an hotel. Now, I suppose that the dignified gentleman who has just left us despises us from the bottom of his heart. His Grace would never have been so vulgar as to kiss his own wife on the sofa.
NANCY. It doesn’t matter very much, Jim, does it? And I expect we shall get used to him.
BROXOPP. I don’t know why we ever had the fellow—except that Master Jack thought it went better with Eton and Oxford. Eton and Oxford—was that your idea or mine? ”

“ LEONARD (starting violently and turning round) . Good Lord! I didn’t know you were there.
LATIMER. You were so hungry.... I trust you slept well.
LEONARD. Slept well! Of all the damned draughty rooms—— Yes, and what about my luggage?
LATIMER (surprised) . Your luggage?
LEONARD. Yes, never put on the car, your fellow, what’s ’is name—Joseph says.
LATIMER. Dear me, we must enquire into this. Lost your luggage? Dear me, that’s a very unfortunate start for a honeymoon. That means bad luck, Leonard. (DOMINIC comes in.) Dominic, what’s this about his lordship’s luggage? ”