Karel Čapek

“ When you’re in the company of ladies, you shouldn’t behave as if you were longing for something that isn’t there.
Felix. The unattainable is there.
Iris. (Looking round from her mirror) Where?
Felix. Your image, Iris.
Iris. My image? Have you fallen in love with my image? Look, my image has heard you. Kiss it quickly.
Felix. It is as unapproachable as you.
Iris. Am I unapproachable? How do you know?
Felix. If I didn’t know that, I shouldn’t love you.
Iris. But must one always be unapproachable?
Felix. There is no true love except in the unapproachable. ”

“ To Clytie?
Felix. No, no, no.
Iris. To whom, then?
Felix. To nobody, upon my honour, to nobody; or rather, to all the women in the world.
Iris. Good gracious ! All the women in the——Felix, you’re a terrible rake. But you must let me know one thing—who ’s your (whispering) ladybird now?
Felix. You won’t tell any one—you really won’t?
Iris. No.
Felix. I haven’t got one.
Iris. What?
Felix. Not yet—I swear it. (Very simply.)
Iris. Oh what a naughty fib! How many women have you told the tale to? I see through you, Felix. You’re a dangerous man. ”

“ A mighty epoch, to victory—conquer the world, magnificent daring—one, two! Well done, Seventh! Beat them, soldiers, the Yellow are cowards. Hack your way through, burn, destroy, heroes!
Enter Messenger.
Messenger. The Yellows have invaded the stretch of country between the roots of the Pine Tree and the Stone——
Chief Engineer. Entirely according to plan. Faster, soldiers, one, two, War forced on us for honour and glory, needs of the State, no conception of Justice; soldiers show your bravery, victory is ours, greatest moment in history. Quick march, quick march, quick march! ”

“ Felix. Iris, I—
Iris. I’m in a queer mood to-day. How stupid it is to be a woman. I should like to be a man,—to kiss, to tempt, to overcome. Oh, Felix, I should make such a fearfully passionate man. I should—I should seize everything I wanted, brutally, savagely. What a pity you aren’t a girl. Let ’s pretend, shall we? You be Iris, and I’ll be your Felix.
Felix. No, Iris—it ’s too dangerous to be Felix. ”

“ Moths.All hail, all hail!
Tramp. Life and death—seems they’re both good if we know how to treat ’em. I’m a battered old moth, I am, but I’ll dance with yer! All hail to life!
Moths. All hail, all hail! ”

“ Lights are lit—the foreground is empty—corpses piled everywhere.
Excellent, Yellows. All are slaughtered.
Tramp. Chuck it, General!
Yellow Leader. The victory of the Yellows. The victory of justice and progress. Ours is the path between the two blades of grass. The world belongs to us Yellows. I proclaim myself Ruler of the Universe.
Chrysalis. I—I—I——
Yellow Leader (on his knees) . Most righteous god of the Ants—thou knowest that we fight only for justice, our victory, our national honour, our commercial interests. ”

“ What ’s the colour of my eyes, Felix dear?
Felix. Blue—like heaven.
Iris. Yours are brown—golden-brown. I don’t care for blue eyes, they’re so cold. Poor Clytie has green eyes, hasn’t she? Do you like Clytie’s eyes, Felix?
Felix. Clytie’s? I don’t know. Yes—she has beautiful eyes.
Iris. Oh, but her legs are dreadfully thick! You’re such bad judges of women, you poets.
Victor. Have you read the last poem that Felix published? It came out in the Spring Anthology.
Iris. Read it me, quickly.
Felix. No, no, I won’t let you read it to her. It ’s bad—it ’s old—I’ve passed that stage long ago. ”

“ Chrysalis. I feel something great—Something great.
Tramp. What jer call great?
Chrysalis. To be born, to live!
Tramp. All right, little chrysalis—I won’t desert yer.
Parasite. (Rolling out of the Fly’s lair, and hiccoughing) Ha, ha, ha! Hup—that—ha, ha, hup—the old miser—hup—kept a larder—hup—for that white-faced daughter of his. Hup—ha, ha. I feel quite—hup—I think I’m going to bust—damn the hiccoughs! It ’s not every one who’d eat as much as that—hup. I’m not a common man, eh, mate?
Tramp. And ’ow about the Larva? ”

“ Third Moth. (Separating)
We dance without rest
And return to the deeps,—
Chorus. For life is eternal, and rises from death where you think that it sleeps.
Third Moth. Life is eternal. It cannot fail. ”

“ And how it cheers you up when you do your duty like that. ‘Do the job that ’s nearest, though it ’s dull at whiles.’ When you feel that, you feel that you are not living in vain. ‘Life is real, life is earnest, life is not an empty dream.’ Well, good afternoon, sir, I must be off again ‘The daily round, the common task!’ So long! ”

“ The fate of the young is to suffer, and of a poet to suffer a hundredfold.
Clytie. It ’s the fate of a poet to be terribly happy. Ah, Felix, you remind me of my first love.
Felix. Who was he?
Clytie. Nobody—I forget. None of my lovers was the first. Ah, that Victor! I hate men. Let ’s be friends, Felix—like two girls together.
Felix. Like two girls?
Clytie. Love ’s nothing to you. Love ’s so common. I want something special, something pure, something new.
Felix. A poem. ”

“ I’m afraid you haven’t the scientific mind, my friend. It ’s the overture to the natural system by which Nature keeps up the balance of the population—that ’s what you call ‘playing’. The male pursues the female; the female allures, avoids—selects—the eternal round of sex!
Tramp. What will you do with them when you catch them?
Lepidopterist. What shall I do? Well, each insect must be identified, recorded and assigned a place in my collection. The butterfly must be carefully killed, and then carefully pinned, and properly dried, and care must be taken that the powder is not rubbed off. ”

“ Mrs. Beetle. Husband—husband, come back—wait a bit—I’ve found one—such a nice hole—Husband! He ’s gone! If I could only look into it—No, I mustn’t leave yer. But only a peep—Here, stay here good and quiet, darling. Hubby’ll be back soon—in half a jiff, half a jiff—So long, keep good—half a ji—
Enters the lair of the Ichneumon Fly. ”

“ Oh, men never know half the trouble moving is.
Mr. Cricket. Oh darling, come, come—Look, darling, look.
Mrs. Cricket. Now don’t get cross, you horrid man.
Mr. Cricket. I won’t say another word, really I won’t. Fancy, Mrs. Cricket won’t take care of herself, and in her state too—What do you think of her?
Mrs. Cricket. You naughty man—how can you joke about it?
Mr. Cricket. But darling, I’m so happy. Just fancy, all the little crickets, the noise, the chirping— (Imitates the noise and laughs.)
Mrs. Cricket. You—you silly boy—wants to be a great big Daddy, eh? ”

“ Parasite. There ’s no equality, that ’s what I say. One law for the rich—another for the poor! And if I was to kill anything, I couldn’t eat it—not satisfactorily, I can’t chew properly, my jaw ’s too weak. Is that right?
Tramp. I don’t ’old with killin’, no’ow.
Parasite. My very words, Comrade, or at least, hoarding shouldn’t be allowed. Eat your fill and ’ave done with it. Down with larders! Storing things is robbin’ those who haven’t nowhere to store. Eat your fill and have done with it and then there’d be enough for all, wouldn’t there? ”

“ Ichneumon Fly. My Larva. Charming, eh? Smart child—And how she grows, and what a twist she ’s got. Children are a great joy, aren’t they?
Tramp. I’ve ’eard ;em well spoken of.
Ichneumon Fly. Well, of course they are, you take it from me—One who knows. When you have them, at least you know what you’re working for. That ’s life, that is. Children want to grow, to eat, to laugh, to dance, to play, don’t they? Am I right?
Tramp. Children want a lot.
Ichneumon Fly. Would you believe it, I take her two or three crickets every day. Do you think she eats them all up? ”

“ I’m ’ungry, that ’s what I am, ’ungry, that ’s a pretty stage of things, isn’t it?
Tramp. Anything for a piece of meat.
Parasite. That ’s what I say. Anything for a piece of meat, and the poor man’s got nothing. It ’s against nature. Every one should have enough to eat, eh? Down with work!
Tramp. (Shaking rattle) Poor creature, poor creature!
Parasite. That’s it. Every one’s got a right to live. ”

“ They don’t seem skeered o’ death, these little mites don’t. Life ’s a rapture to them, and death ’s a rapture. It ’s queer. Pore little mites—all done for. . . . ’Ere—what ’s this? My turn, is it? Get off my chest, damn yer! I won’t die. ’Aven’t I jest learned ’ow to live and let live? Gawd, I feel sick. I can’t be dyin’? It can’t ’ave come to me? . . . Chuck it—yer stranglin’ me. I know ’oo it is—you’re Death. ”

“ It ’s not every one who could do that. Ah, my boy, that ’s what you want—brains, expert knowledge, enterprise, imagination, initiative—and love of work, let me tell you.
Parasite. That ’s what I say.
Ichneumon Fly. My good man, if you want to keep alive, you’ve got to fight your way. There ’s your future, there ’s your family. And then you know there must be a certain amount of ambition. A strong personality is bound to assert itself. ”

“ Scene: A sandy hillock—Various holes, &c.
Beetles are quarrelling over a Chrysalis, which is seized first by one then the other.
Chrysalis. The whole world is bursting into blossom. I am being born. ”

“ Chief Engineer. How are you lifting him? Too slowly, you’re wasting time. Drop him. Now head and feet together. Blank, two, three—wrong, drop him again. Head and feet—blank, two, three, four—take him away—blank, two, blank, two, blank—
2nd Engineer. Two, three, four—quicker.
Tramp. Anyhow, he died quick enough—
Chief Engineer. Work, work, he who possesses more, must work more.
2nd Engineer. He requires more—
Chief Engineer. He has more to defend—
2nd Engineer. And more to gain.
Chief Engineer. We are a nation of peace—peace means work.
2nd Engineer. And work, strength. ”

“ Moth after Moth falls dead.
Tramp. Butterflies, beetles, moths, and men—why can’t we all live ’appy together? The world’s big enough, and life could be ’appy for everythink—if we ’ad a bit o’ sense. ”

“ We find ourselves compelled to call you to the colours. A wicked enemy has treacherously attacked us, for the purpose of outwitting our peaceable preparations. At this great hour I have been appointed Dictator. ”

“ Chief Engineer. And for the greatness of our State. We shall wage war for the interest of civilization and our military honour. Soldiers, I am with you to the last drop of my blood.
2nd Engineer. Long live our beloved Commander-in-Chief!
Soldiers. Long live our Commander-in-Chief!
Chief Engineer. I know my soldiers. They will fight until the final victory. Long live our gallant men. Hurrah!
Soldiers. Hurrah! Hurrah!
Chief Engineer. (To 2nd Engineer) The First and Second Divisions will attack frontally. The Fourth will envelope the Pine Wood, and break into the Ant Heap of the Yellows. ”

“ It ’s a great responsibility to bring up children—A great worry, isn’t it? Feeding the poor little mites, paying for their education and putting them out into the world. That ’s no trifle, I can tell you. ”

“ Mrs. Beetle. Our capital—our little pile—our all in all.
Mr. Beetle. Our pi-ile—My gawd—don’t frighten me.
Mrs. Beetle. We oughtn’t to roll it about with us till we’ve made another one, dearie, did we?
Mr. Beetle. I’ll tell you what—we’ll invest it—In—vest it—store it up—bury it. That ’s what we’ll do—nice and deep—nice and deep.
Mrs. Beetle. I hope nobody finds it.
Mr. Beetle. Eh, what ’s that? Finds it—No, of course they won’t. Our little bit of capital.
Mrs. Beetle. Our nest-egg—Oh, bless me—I hope no one does—our little all. ”

“ Great god of the Ants, thou hast granted victory to thy servants. I appoint thee honorary Colonel. ”

“ Now we’ve got our little pile that we’ve so looked forward to, we’ve got to work and work and work to make another one.
Mrs. Beetle. Why another one?
Mr. Beetle. Silly—so that we can have two, of course.
Mrs. Beetle. Two? Quite right—quite right—two.
Mr. Beetle. Just fancy—two—at least two, say three. Every one who ’s made his pile has to make another. ”

“ Exeunt.
Tramp. There now—that poor male insec’!
Well, I’m blest—
Goin’ ’alf balmy for them flighty things! . . .
As fer that kind of female—why, she ’s jest
A man-trap ’idden be’ind two silky wings. ”

“ He kills to add to his larder, what ’s three quarters full already. He collects things he does, hangs ’em up to dry, smokes ’em, pickles ’em. It ’s a scandal, that ’s what it is, a scandal. One ’s got a store while another ’s starving. ”

“ Second Snail. He’th done for.
Tramp. You strangle a man when ’e’s down, do you, coward? Stop, let me tell you—all I want’s another moment—let me live—go away—I’ve more to tell you—I’ve learned how to live. ”

“ But man—man’s diff’rent. Folks like me an’ you
Work ’ard, real ’ard, and makes our little pile . . .
Blast! I’m all mixed. That ’s what them beetles do.
It ’s what I say—man 'as ideals and dreams
And fam’ly love. ’Is purpose—put it plain—
Is keepin’ up the race . . ., ’Ullo, though,—seems
I’ve got them crickets fairly on the brain.
Bold—that ’s what man is: resolute, yer might s’y.
If ’e wants more, ’e does ’is neighbour in . . . ”