Plays of Near & Far - BestLightNovel.com
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JERGINS: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
SIR WEBLEY: Changing fast, and new members putting up for the Club.
JERGINS: Yes, I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.
SIR WEBLEY: You notice it too, Jergins.
JERGINS: Yes, Sir Webley, it's come all of a sudden. Only last week I saw ...
SIR WEBLEY: Well, Jergins.
JERGINS: I saw Lord Pondleburrow wearing a ...
SIR WEBLEY: Wearing what, Jergins?
JERGINS: Wearing one of those billyc.o.c.k hats, Sir Webley.
SIR WEBLEY: Well, well. I suppose they've got to change, but not at that rate.
JERGINS: No, Sir Webley.
[EXIT, _shaking his head as he goes._
SIR WEBLEY: Well, we must find out about this fellow.
NEEKS: Yes. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention. He knows all about that sort of thing.
SIR WEBLEY: Yes, yes. Just ...
[NEEKS _rises and goes some of the way towards_ GLEEK'S _chair._
NEEKS: Er--er----
GLEEK (_looking round_): Yes?
SIR WEBLEY: Do you know anything of a man called Mr. William Shakespeare?
GLEEK (_looking over his pince-nez_): No!
[_He shakes his head several times and returns to his paper._
CURTAIN.
FAME AND THE POET
_DRAMATIS PERSONae_
HARRY DE REVES, _a Poet_.
(_This name, though of course of French origin, has become anglicised and is p.r.o.nounced_ DE REEVS.)
d.i.c.k PRATTLE, _a Lieutenant-Major of the Royal Horse Marines_.
FAME.
SCENE
_The Poet's rooms in London. Windows in back. A high screen in a corner._
_Time: February 30th._
_The_ POET _is sitting at a table writing._
[_Enter_ d.i.c.k PRATTLE.
PRATTLE: Hullo, Harry.
DE REVES: Hullo, d.i.c.k. Good Lord, where are you from?
PRATTLE (_casually_): The ends of the earth.
DE REVES: Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!
PRATTLE: Thought I'd drop in and see how you were getting on.
DE REVES: Well, that's splendid. What are you doing in London?
PRATTLE: Well, I wanted to see if I could get one or two decent ties to wear--you can get nothing out there--then I thought I'd have a look and see how London was getting on.
DE REVES: Splendid! How's everybody?
PRATTLE: All going strong.
DE REVES: That's good.
PRATTLE (_seeing paper and ink_): But what are you doing?
DE REVES: Writing.
PRATTLE: Writing? I didn't know you wrote.
DE REVES: Yes, I've taken to it rather.
