Sydney Grundy

“ Mrs. D. Where’s Dionysius? (crosses to Sir Humphrey)
Sir H. Don’t be so concerned. He’s only gone for a walk with Mrs. Blake.
Mrs. D. With that play-actress?
Sir H. My dear Mrs. Dozey, there is nothing discreditable in the profession of the stage.
Mrs. D. That woman’s setting her cap at Dionysius!
Sir H. I hadn’t noticed that she wore a cap.
Mrs. D. It’d be more becoming if she did, widow as she is. But there! I have my doubts about her being a widow at all.
Sir H. (rising) Mrs. Dozey!
Mrs. D. A bright face is like charity, it covers a multitude of sins. ”

“ Ned. I’m only too delighted.
Alma. So am I.
Ned. Alma!
Alma. It’s “Alma” now!
Ned. Yes—the old Alma!
Alma. I’m not middle-aged. You’ll make me out a grandmother directly, and say Miss Carlton is my granddaughter. Miss Carlton! Who’s Miss Carlton?
Ned. Here, keep the part and never mind Miss Carlton. I’ll tell Dick——
Alma. No! Stop! Not a word! Now, don’t you interfere between me and my manager. I shall turn up at rehearsal just as usual.
Ned. But Dick——
Alma. Bother Dick!
Ned. All right, bother him; he’s bothered me enough! But how are you to get over your notice? ”

“ I have no right to tell you I will never see you, for the fault is mine; but if I do, it will only be painful, and I leave it to your magnanimity to go away from me for ever."
Sir H. I have done. (goes up and turns his back to them, deeply moved; pause)
Tom. And have we lost six years of this short life?
Alma. (crosses to Tom) Not lost! if we have learnt to trust appearance less, and one another more.
Tom. Is it you, Alma? Time and grief have made us almost strangers.
Alma. But time and happiness shall make us friends.
Re-enter Susan, L.C. Tom crosses to R.
Susan. Dr. and Mrs. Dozey. ”

“ Alma suddenly appears on the lawn outside, standing an instant in the sunshine, with her head turned to Sir Humphrey, who passes the window a moment afterwards.
Alma. Oh, what a lovely lawn! We must have tennis there, Sir Humphrey.
Sir H. If I could play the game——
Alma. I’ll teach you. (they pass on, R., out of sight)
Lucy. Tom, what’s the matter?
Tom. Who was that—passed the window?
Lucy. That was Mrs. Blake. What do you think of her?
Tom. Blake?
Lucy. I believe you’re smitten. Men are all alike.
Tom. Just in time—only just.
Lucy. What are you talking about? Just in time for what? ”

“ Dr. It is our duty to hate sin, but to love sinners. One may, at one and the same time, abhor the acting——
Mrs. D. And adore the actress!
Dr. I should prefer to say, regard the actress with that measure of fraternal sympathy to which all our erring sisters are entitled.
Mrs. D. But which only the good-looking ones get. (re-enter Lucy, down staircase, L.) No, Dionysius, it won’t do! A little less of that fraternal sympathy, if you please.
Lucy. What’s the matter, Mrs. Dozey? (Dr. Dozey gets up, R.)
Mrs. D. Matter! Why that stage-player——
Lucy. Mrs. Blake?
Mrs. D. Has been at her stage tricks! ”

“ No hoarding like a human countenance, and no bill-sticker like a guilty conscience.
Ned. Alma, I am ashamed.
[Pg 15]
Alma. (crosses to Ned) Be as much ashamed of yourself as you like, but don’t be ashamed of your wife.
Ned. I’ll tell Sir Humphrey—to-morrow.
Alma. To-day. (holding her hands out)
Ned. If I can screw my courage up.
Both. (shaking hands) To-day.
Alma. I’ll screw it up for you. You won’t want much. Fathers are not such dreadful animals after all. There was a time when children were afraid of their parents, but now-a-days they’re lucky parents who’re not afraid of their children. ”

“ No, oh, no! He is a man, and he can bear it; I’m only a woman, and I can’t. My pride has all gone—gone, I don’t know where! Six years of loneliness have used it up. I don’t care who was right—I don’t care who was wrong—I want him back again. (sits L. of table)
Re-enter Susan, L.C., with Ned.
Ned. Good morning. (Exit Susan, L.C.)
Alma. (rising) Ned! What brings you here so early?
Ned. What’s this I hear from Dick? He says you’ve given him notice.
Alma. So I have.
Ned. Then who’s to play your part?
Alma. Oh, there are lots of women.
Ned. Only one Alma Blake. ”

“ Re-enter Alma through window, from R.
Alma. Oh! such a jolly row! I’ve left them at it—hammer and tongs—tongues especially.
Sir H. Mrs. Dozey’s of a jealous disposition. A worthy woman but——
Alma. Rather inclined to go to sleep.
Sir H. Well, after five-and-twenty years of Dozey——
Alma. I don’t wonder at it.
Sir H. All women can’t have Mrs. Blake’s vivacity.
Alma. Sir Humphrey! no more compliments to-day. You said just now I was the means of reconciling you to Ned—of teaching you that your son was always your son—that forgiveness was better than resentment. ”

“ Tom. I owe you an explanation as well as Sir Humphrey. You remember my telling you my married life was a failure?
Lucy. Though you adored your wife.
Tom. You mustn’t think she didn’t care for me, at first, but she was lively, high-spirited, demonstrative. (fetches chair from back and sits beside Lucy) And you know what sort of a fellow I am. Heavy as one of Dozey’s sermons. Women like pretty speeches, compliments. I can’t make pretty speeches, and I can’t pay compliments; but there are lots of men about who can. ”

“ I came to England, and the next I heard of her was the announcement of her death. (crosses to sofa)
Lucy. Abroad?
Tom. In Melbourne. At first the sight of the old name brought back old memories, and I forgave her. I got out the few remnants the past leaves to men—the few pale letters and the faded photograph that grows a little dimmer every day—when my eyes fell on that last note I found upon her desk. I huddled up the scraps and went my way. I took up art as a profession—changed my name in deference to my family, who look on art as a mild form of felony—and time went on. ”

“ Dick. Ha! ha! I’ll make a note of that. Give it to Sparkle—do for his next comedy. Poor Sparkle! Clever man, but sadly overworked. No wonder he’s behindhand with our piece.
Alma. It’s your own fault. Give someone else a chance.
Dick. No! no! Sparkle’s recognised.
Ned. (coming down, R.) His jokes are.
Dick. That doesn’t matter. It’s his name I want. The public judges only by the brand. One play’s just as good as another.
Sir H. That’s your experience?
Dick. Yes. On the whole, I think a bad play’s better than a good one, but we none of us know anything about it. ”

“ The stage has by this time grown rather dim, as if it were getting dusk. Check lights, check to half down. Lights gradually fade away and go out) “Why have I a wife? She is a mere child for whom I had a passing fancy.”
Lucy. (under her breath) She’s reading the letter!
Alma. “Nothing can now remove the barrier between us. With my own hand I have destroyed my happiness.” Oh, no, you haven’t, Ned! I’ll make you happy yet. ”

“ You see, Ned’s an author; (Lucy sits) and authors make uninteresting husbands. (crosses to L.) I won’t say they always neglect their wives, but their wives always think so. (crosses to Lucy) Then again, Mrs. Blake—as my wife calls herself——
Lucy. Alma, Ned calls her!
Tom. Well—she’s on the stage and might be of great use to him. It’s only natural he should make friends with her.
Lucy. But he thinks she’s a widow. If he knew she had a husband—and above all, (rises) that you were her husband—I should feel more comfortable. ”

“ Dick. (crosses to Sir Humphrey; pulls out watch) How are your trains, Sir Humphrey? I’ve an appointment at four sharp, in town.
Sir H. I see you are a man of business.
Dick. Yes, I’m a cheesemonger.
Sir H. A cheesemonger. I thought you were a theatrical manager?
Dick. Same thing. A theatre’s only a shop, and ought to be worked on the same principles.
Ned. Or want of principles?
Dick. Same thing. If my customers want a bad article, I give it ’em. It’s not my fault, it’s theirs.
Sir H. A philosopher as well as a cheesemonger!
Dick. My dear sir, all cheesemongers are philosophers. ”

“ Dick. Gardener? No. My property master. Marvellous florist! Nature’s not in it with Groggins.
Ned. (to Dick) You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of nature?
Dick. No, sir. Nature was only a beginner. Don’t like amateurs, except for matinees.
Meanwhile Alma has been making signs to Dr. Dozey, pointing to buttonhole and Mrs. Dozey; Dr. Dozey, behind the open book, responds in pantomime; Mrs. Dozey observing this comes down between them; Dr. Dozey drops his eyes on book and turns off; she pursues him; Alma turns off to Sir Humphrey, who leaves Ned with Dick. ”

“ Alma. Do you mean Miss Carlton?
Susan. Yes. Mrs. Pritchard thinks——
Alma. Never mind what Mrs. Pritchard thinks!
Susan. She says she’s always crying.
Alma. What do I care what Mrs. Pritchard says? I asked you if you’d seen her.
Susan. No, Miss Blake.
Alma. Then go and see her now.
Susan. Yes, Miss Blake.
Alma. I’ll do my hair myself. Don’t mention any name—Mr. Dick’s given her my part to play, and she mightn’t care to see me. Say that the lady on the first floor wants to speak to her on business connected with the theatre.
Susan. Yes, Miss Blake. ”

“ Re-enter Ned, L.
Ned. (crosses to Alma) I can’t make out what’s the matter with Lucy, but she won’t come down. She’s upset about something.
Alma. Shall I go up to her? (crosses to L.)
Ned. I wish you would. You’ll find out what’s the matter, I’ll be bound. Where’s Dozey?
Alma. (at door, L.) Gone for a stroll, that’s all.
Ned. I hope he won’t be long. It’s nearly seven now.
Alma. Don’t alarm yourself. A clergyman is never late for dinner. (Exit, L. Sir Humphrey sits R. Ned crosses to L.)
Mrs. D. (outside) It’s no use talking, Dionysius!
Enter Dr. and Mrs. Dozey, through window. ”

“ If you’ll let Sparkle look over your comedy, write up Blake’s part, re-cast the plot, and smarten up the dialogue, I’ll bring the piece out under Sparkle’s name, pay him the fees, and—and your fortune’s made. (Alma comes down, C.)
Ned. Let Sparkle hack about my piece? Sparkle, who’s just made this fiasco?
Dick. Sparkle has such a name.
Alma. Yes—for fiascos.
Dick. Never mind what it’s for—he has a name.
Ned. No, Mr. Dick, no!
Dick. You refuse?
Ned. Decidedly. (goes up to L.C., sits at table)
Dick. (taking stage, R.) And yet they say we managers don’t give young men a chance. ”

“ There is no evil in an audience, regarded in the aspect of a congregation. (sits)
Alma. Don’t make yourself too comfortable, Ned. I shall want you to play a leading part. Dick, you shall be the front row of the pit. (Dick brings chair down, C. Re-enter Susan, R.C.) And here comes Susan, just in time to be the prompter. Ready? (sits on sofa) Curtain up. Hero and heroine, a young married couple. They’re very fond of one another—very happy. So the play opens brightly.
Dick. Wife working slippers—husband smoking—embraces—footstool business—the old fake—told you so. ”

“ Alma. But after all, some artists are successful, and a man must begin at the beginning. There’s nothing wicked about art, is there, doctor?
Dr. A perilous pursuit, and it is not the part of a wise man to play with fire. (Alma pulls a long face, and is caught by Mrs. Dozey)
Sir H. I’ve no objection to a real artist, an Academician, such as Sir Clarence Gibbs, who painted my own portrait. A very gentlemanly man, indeed—received in the best families. ”

“ Alma. (aside) It ought to!
Re-enter Ned through window, with Sir Humphrey on his arm, down C.
Dr. Bless my soul—if I may be permitted so strong an expression——
Alma. You may—you may. It’s quite a relief to hear a little bad language.
Dr. Is that you, Sir Humphrey?
Sir H. Yes, doctor. I’ve made friends with Ned again. I said I wouldn’t, but there are some words it’s better to break than to keep. A son may afford to quarrel with his father, but a father cannot afford to quarrel with his son, especially when he’s the only one. ”

“ Based on how the Harvard Library catalogs the individual copies, I assume Google combined the different scans into a single document. The Silver Shield is the fourth play in the set.
French’s Acting Editions from the nineteenth century tend to have minor editorial inconsistencies and errors as well as errors introduced in the printing process, depending on the condition and inking of the plates. Thus, for example, it is at times difficult to determine whether a certain letter is an “c,” “e,” or “o” or whether a certain punctuation mark is a period or a comma. ”

“ Dick’s new piece is a frost. I thought it would be, and threw up my part. So I’m at liberty, and we’re both coming for the evening.
Ned. Lucy— (Lucy goes up) —you’d better order some more dinner. There’ll be the Dozeys—Potter——
Alma. Mr. Potter coming! Oh, I’m so glad!
Lucy. (aside) They’ll meet! (at back, R.)
Alma. I feel quite curious to see Mr. Potter. You know I just missed him at Sir Humphrey’s; and as a rule the people we miss in this world are so much more interesting than the people we meet.
Ned. Then, there’s my father and Alma— (Lucy looks at Ned) Mrs. Blake. ”

“ Dozey’s, they both go off, C.R.
Sir H. (following) What sprightliness! What commonsense! (comes down, R.) What kindliness! My life has been a different thing since I have known her. (sits, R., thoughtfully) One of the Duchesses of St. Albans was an actress. One of the Countesses of Derby was an actress. There are precedents—excellent precedents. Lady Chetwynd—Lady Chetwynd.
Mrs. D. (wakes suddenly) It’s a most extraordinary thing. I can’t get a wink of sleep! other people have no difficulty—why have I? How is it, Dionysius?
Sir H. Your husband isn’t here.
Mrs. D. Sir Humphrey! ”

“ He has views of his own—very bad things to have. Why can’t men be content with the views of their forefathers? The opinions which are good enough for me ought to be good enough for a stripling like him.
Tom. Our forefathers believed the sun went round the earth.
Sir H. And what better are we for believing the earth goes round the sun? I’ve no patience with these revolutionary ideas. They unsettle men’s minds. Of course you don’t agree with me. You are another man with views, and that’s the reason why you don’t get on.
Tom. (comes down C.) You don’t like me, Sir Humphrey. ”