Granny Maumee; The Rider of Dreams; Simon the Cyrenian: Plays for a Negro Theater

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO

For permission to perform these plays application must be made to the author in care of the publishers.

Scene: Living room in an old cabin with walls blackened by age. Red cotton curtains and red covers on the chairs and table. In left corner back, an open fire smoulders in a great rough fireplace. There is a door at back leading out of doors. There are also doors left and right. A bed at left covered with a white counterpane. The room is neat and there are many growing flowers about potted in rude wooden boxes. Toward the right is an iron flower stand consisting of a basin mounted on a tripod. This stand is filled with a mass of bright red geraniums. A large chest against the wall at right is covered with red. A table near centre bears candles. Beside the table in a high-backed chair sits Granny Maumee. She is seen to be blind. She is black and thin, with white hair and a face so seared by burns that it masks her great age. Her great granddaughter Pearl, a girl of nineteen, is moving briskly about the room straightening chairs and rearranging flowers.

Seem kinder funny fer me to be fixin’ up for Sapphie. Seem like I’m wukin’ for her by the day. Mebbe she will tek’n hiah me now she’s married. Seem kinder odd to be hiahed by a blood sisteh.

Hit weahs um out so to wash um, an’ Sapphie an’ that man of her’n aint used to such goodness. An’ to muss um up des for one night!

Hit’s de night er all nights. Hit’s de boy babe wif ’em dat I wants de fineness fer.

That’s right, the baby. I keeps fohgittin’ hit. I’ll change’m. I’ll git the linum sheets on an’ then I’ll lay the big covehled.

You’n me’ll have to lay in the broke baid this night. You won’t git no rest.

No matteh, heah’s a good baid fer de babe an’ I’ll soon git all my res’.

I hope’s Sapphie’s husband aint too hefty, for the th’ee might break this heah’n same as the otheh’n is broke.

De husban’ shain’t sleep da nohow. You c’n lay him a bunk in de wash house.

Dis baid my Sam bought fo’ me. Onliest man kin eveh lay in hit shill be Sam’s own blood. De babe an’ his motheh’ll lay heah dis night erlone.

W’en my Sam wuz er babe we laid on cotton sack. We didn’ have no baid, an’ w’en he little shaveh he say, “Mammy, I goin’ git you nice baid w’en I git er man.” An’ sho’ nuff, w’en he grow up he took ’n do hit, an’ he mek pu’chus in de attehnoon an’ de baid come nex’ day. But at midnight betwix’ dee tuk ’n bu’nt ’im.

In de black dahk dee come on ’im, de bloody-handed mens, an’ wheah dee cotch ’im dah dee bu’nt ’im, de right man settin’ de wrong man afieh at de i’un hitchin’ pos’.

[Going to her.] Granny Maumee, don’t leave yo’self go that away. Don’t leave youah mine run on.

Look! Has I looked fo’ fifty yeah sence I rush in de fieh fo’ my Sam, which hit de las’ sight deze eyes seen? Oh, whuffo’ dee drag me out an’ hilt me back? I bo’ one man an’ him dee tuk’n bu’nt. An’ ’e slep’ right’n dis room w’en de man wuz shot w’ich dee ’cuze ’im er! Whuffo’ dee drag me back f’um de fieh?

I sees the wisdom of Gawd in hit, Granny Maumee. Fifty yeahs ergo me and Sapphie’s granpap been burnt and yet you was to live to git a new Sam.

W’ich ’e neveh come. Dee wuz all gals fum dat on, you an’ yo’ sisteh Sapphie an’ yo’ mammy an’ yo’ mammy’s mammy, all down from my breas’: all gals.

No, Granny Maumee, your eyes they’re scorched and swiveled with the fire. But your arms ain’t burnt, is they? An’ they shall hold the baby! Tain’t often old person live to heft a great-great-gran’baby.

[Calling.] Betteh lay down fust, they won’t be here for two hour yet. I’ll be there pres’n’ly.

[Obeying wonderingly.] Well, hit do look good to see you ergin, Sapphie. Hit don’t seem like er yeah now sence you lef’ home. Does youah husband tek you to pictuh shows?

Puhl, what’s Granny Maumee like now, is she failed any? Is she fie’ce as eveh ’bout the burnin’ and the w’ite mens?

Why, of course she is. She don’t neveh change f’um year ter year. Come on, let’s see baby. What youah husband’s name? You nevah sent us wu’d what youah new name was.

That’s what I want to see you for before Granny Maumee comes out. Come here. [She lifts a veil from the child’s face.]

A light-head merlatter! So youah husband didn’t come ’cause they ain’t no husband. Who’s the man?

So, he took you off to town with him, did he, and that’s how come you have the luck to go. I praise King Jesus he kept me f’um such luck.

Take hit! Does you spose we can take’n tell her? Thank my Makeh she’s blind. It’s the mussy of Gawd her eyes was swiveled in w’ite man’s fire before she see the w’ite man mix with her blood. You—

Oh, I don’t care what you calls me if you’ll only help me and keep Granny Maumee off’n me and baby.

It’s only helpin’ to keep us all from ’struction that I’ll keep it from her.

I don’t know. Sometimes when her mine runs on ’bout the burnin’ she begins to go back’ards.

You knows what I means. Away from the love of Gawd, back to that Affykin devil stuff.

[Starting with a cry toward the door at back.] Oh, she might witch me and the baby too.

Don’t be scared. She won’t tech you ’cause she won’t know the sinneh you been.

Dat’s good, fer I needs hit bright dis day an’ night. De babe’ll wan’ tuh see hit. Red’s de fus’ coloh er baby notice an’ red allers goes wif black. Red neveh go wif w’ite. Looks ghas’ly. I use allers tuh wrop my Sam in red— [She pauses and her voice grows shriller.] an’ red’s de las’ way I seen ’im.

Dat’s right, I mus’ tek my mine off er dat sight now. But I’ll tek’n’ wrop dis noo black babe in my red ap’un dat hilt my Sam. In red he shill be wrop an’ black he shill shine. Royal black we is an’ royal black we shill stay. Praise my Makeh, dey ain’ no drop er any yutheh coloh in ’im. All us wimens wuz hones’, all de way down, an’ we kep’ clean er de w’ite streak. We kep’ us clean, praise my King, an’ we will ter de een’. W’ite blood were ’stroyin’ angel tuh my fambly f’um de beginnin’s, but hit neveh yit mix wif us. We wuz save f’um dat las’ pizen.

Hattie Lee she uz hones’ an’ her baby’s w’ite. That w’ite man tuk’n marry her with preacheh.

Married wif preacheh! Do dat change de trashy blood? I wudn’ have dat kinder mud pumpin’ in er babe er my blood, not ef de sevumty eldehs had j’ined a w’ite man tuh you er Sapphie.

’Tis fer us! ’Tis fer dis house er sorrer. Hit’s bin fieh, hit’s bin death, hit’s bin de crawlin’ stream er hell fer me an’ my fambly as fur as I knows, an’ dat’s a hunderd yeah. But I lets all de yutheh go, ’ca’se I hates um ernuff fer dis one thing—

[Waving the sticks.] Deze, w’ut I snatch f’um de fieh undeh Sam. Deze is ernuff to mek us hate all er dat blood an’ keep hit fur f’um us.

[Going to her and taking the sticks.] Is this heah makin’ ready for comp’ny? Now ca’m yo’se’f.

[Seating herself and growing suddenly very still as though listening.] Yo’re right. Time’s up, de houah is heah an’ de chile is neah. I feels hit. Run an’ open de do’. Sapphie mus’ be comin’ up de paf. Mek ready. I feel my noo man chile neah me.

Fetch de babe, be swif! [Pearl motions to Sapphie; she goes out to get the baby.]

No diffunce. I bless de man an’ wish ’im well, he’s su’ved his puhpose, but he ain’ none er ouah blood. De boy babe’s de chief un. [Sapphie enters with the baby.] Give ’im heah, be swif’.

Babe, man babe-um, er noo man, er puore-blood man raise’ up atter all dem gals. Sam kin res’ now. ’Caze w’y— [She begins to chant.] ’caze er noo man bin raise up an’ he shill lay hol’ er de stahs an’ th’ow um down fer vingince. He shill be er ’stroyin’ fieh er heavum tuh roll ergin de hell fieh w’ut dey lit fer Sam an’ quinch hit out fuheveh. De wrath er Gawd shill be wif ’im an’ de w’ite blood shill puhvail no more ergin ’im. De sun an’ moon shill rise no mo’ on my house an’ fin’ on’y gals, ’caze we got er puore-blood man fer to gyard an’ carry us on.

An’ my King’ll not keep de cuss on me now an’ leave me go down to de grave wifouten sight er you, my babe-um. Dese eyes shill yit behole. [She rises with the child in her arms.] Go on out er heah, Puhl an’ Sapphie, lemme be alone now wif my babe. [She waves them out imperiously.]

[Suddenly in a loud voice with upraised face.] Sam—ask Gawd tuh give back my sight dis night er all nights an’ leave me look at de noo[20] man w’ut bin handed down ter us. Fer we kep’ de blood puore. Ask an’ we shill receive— [In a still louder tone, stretching upward her hands.] Lawd, I believe.

Granny Maumee, the babe’ll be ouah’n an’ we can raise him right. He’s a good baby and don’t cry none. I don’t want live’n town. I want to live here with you and Puhl. Baby’ll love you. And we won’t be no trouble to keep ’caze I got money. Look—take this.

He des would have his way, but he’s good to me and he takes care of me. He’s comin’ heah tonight to see me.

Granny Maumee, you’re slippin’ backwuds, please don’t fuss with that conju’n foolishness, they ain’t nuthin’ into hit an’ hit des keeps you ’cited.

Come, my seedin’ Jimson, come, ole Rattlesnake-Marsteh, come, my Black-Ball, w’ut Pap Jack han’ me up.

[Scornfully.] Don’t fuss, Sapphie, she won’t do no harm. What the chains for, Granny?

I ain’ worried no mo’. [She throws more herbs on the fire in the brazier.] Dem chains fer de w’ite man.

[Pointing to the door at left back.] W’en de w’ite man knock de do’ shill be open an’ dat shill be de beginnin’ er his trials.

De smoke in dis room will strankle de man’s will in his breas’ an’ I’ll use ’im den as I choose.

I goin’ lead ’im out tuh de i’un hitchin’ pos’ w’ut dey fas’en Sam ter an’ I goin’ tuh chain[25] ’im da wif dese chains an’ I goin’ tuh bring ’im tuh ’imself an’ den I goin’ tuh bu’n ’im lak he gran’pappy bu’n Sam.

[The girls start forward toward the doorway at left back. As they near Granny she swiftly seizes a handful of burning herbs from the brazier and waves them smoking across the faces of the girls under their nostrils, so that they breathe the fumes. They take a few steps farther, staggering, and then stand motionless and silent. She takes them by the hands and leads them back. The fumes of stramonium, solanum and other herbs have produced catalepsia. Granny goes to the fireplace at back and from the mantel takes a wooden bowl, a short stick and a large dry gourd. She returns, gives the bowl and stick to Sapphie, causing her to beat rhythmically on the inverted bowl with the stick, a motion which Sapphie continues in imitative hypnosis. Granny gives the gourd to Pearl, causing her to shake it. The gourd gives forth a dry rattle from seeds or pebbles within it. Granny[26] then places the two girls on either side of the tripod and they continue their drumming and rattling rhythmically. She then takes her place back of the tripod and casts more herbs upon the fire.]

Let um git no res’ in bed, er good at vittals, er hope at wu’k, er he’p at home, er peace wif fren’s er kin, er tryin’ tuh tek pleasuah, er in any place dey kin go er hide.

Let me slit ’im an’ bu’n ’im an’ was’e ’im an’ cut ’im an’ choke an’ weah ’im an’ teah ’im as Sam ’uz slit an’ choked an’ bu’nt an’ was’e an’ cut an’ woah an’ toah.

De chains is ready, de man is neah, an’ almos’ heah an’ de chahm shill hol’.

Sam! Is dat you in da? You instid er he? W’ut dis? Is we bin trick? ’Tain’t you—’tis you—Sam! Ah-h!

Sam! Yes, I sees yo’. I heahs yo’. Yes, my Babe-um.—Talk on.—Tell me.—W’at!

I knows.—I fuhgot. I’ll do hit.—I des wen’ backerds but I’m wif yo’ now.—Yas—Ez we[30] fuhgives uthehs—yas—I knows—we’ll do hit.—We will be tuhgetheh.—Ez we fuhgives uthehs.

Go back, w’ite man. Roll back, w’ite wave er de fiery lek. Once you lit de fieh an’ bu’n me. Once you po’ de blood an’ pizen me, but dis time Sam an’ me we’s de stronges’ an’ we leaves you go, we leaves you live tuh mek yore peace wif Gawd. We’re puore bloods heah, royal black—all but one an’ we’ll do de bes’ we kin erbout ’im. He shill be name Sam. Go back, w’ite man, an’ sin no mo’.

Wake up, Sapphie; come tuh, Puhl. [As she does so she looks upward again and cries out:] Sam, we done hit, an’ we stays tuhgetheh!

Scene: Night in a room used for kitchen, dining-room and laundry by a colored family. A lamp is set upon a central table laid with a spotless table cloth. Baskets of clothes stand on several chairs. At the back is a cook-stove and to the left of this a door. There are also doorways at the right and left of the room. Lucy Sparrow, a worn, sweet-faced woman of forty, is sprinkling clothes at an ironing-board at left with her back turned to the table beside which, on a high stool, is perched a small boy, Booker Sparrow. Both the boy and the woman as well as the room show a painstaking neatness despite the disorder necessary in the process of a professional “wash.”

It’s done but I ain’t done wif you. You got[36] to learn good befo’ you can eat good. Who redeem you?

Bettah lose youah wishes an’ youah ahms an’ laigs an’ everything youah body’s fix wif an’ keep youah immortal soul. Who sanctify you?

Well, you ain’ goin’ to git hit twell you luhns de questions. What de chief en’ of man?

[Coming swiftly forward and confronting him with a threatening look:] Enjoy hisself! I ain’ neveh teach you dat. You know betteh’n dat. Man got no right to enjoy hisself. He got to enjoy Gawd. You knows dat as well as you knows eatin’. An’ you got to say it an’ what’s[37] mo’ you got to live it. Now what de chief en’ of man?

Dat’s mo’ like it. [She turns her back and going to the ironing-board resumes her labours, still talking.] I’m raisin’ you fo’ de Kingdom an’ you’ah goin’ in de Kingdom ef pushin’ ’ll lan’ you dere. Because dis time anutheh yeah you may be in some lonesome graveyard. [Singing:]

[She turns and discovers Booker.] What! You stealin’! I’ll show you! [She gives him a cuff and a shake, depositing him again upon his stool.] You shorely is on de way to de fieh but I’m goin’ pluck you out ef it skins you alive. Steal, will you? What de sevenf commandment?

See dat. You knows it but you des won’t live hit. Well, I’m goin’ live it into you. I’m goin’ slap sin out of you. [She gives him another shake.] An’ de grace into you. Now you say dat commandment sevumty times sevun. Begin. Say hit.

[Places the bag carefully by the doorway, throws his hat upon it, then seats himself at the table.] Bring on dat mush. I’m tia’hd of dese fool doin’s. Dey ain’t no git ahead wif um. Ef de boy wants mush let him git mush.

Madison, dat’s de wrong kin’ of trash fo’ dis[40] baby to heah. Go lay down, honey. Tek de bowl wif you.

No, hit’s de right kin’ of preachin’. I’m tia’hd of all dat ol’ fashion way of doin’. Ef I wuz to wuk my ahms off dat ol’ fashion way I couldn’t git no furder.

You knows I wuk till I strain my back. But neveh min’ about all dat. I done tuhn oveh a[41] new leaf. I goin’ to be a business man. I goin’ to let de otheh man wuk.

Let ’em do hit. I don’ ask nothin’ of nobody. I goin’ to have every toof in my haid covehed wif gol’. I’ll get youah’n an’ Book’s fix dat way too. I goin’ to have plenty society grub in me all de time. I ain’ goin’ to let my fam’ly suffeh. I got too sweet a disposishun fo’ dat. I’ll git ’em whateveh I want.

I’ll git it an’ I got it. Watch me now. [He goes over to the bag by the door and reaching in it produces a handsome guitar.] Dat’s de beginnin’ er good times, boy.

No, youah las’ dime you spent Sunday an’ I ain’ give you no money since. You got it wifout payin’ for it. You charged it.

Yassah, I got it wifout payin’ for it an’ I goin’ to keep on a-gittin’ it wifout payin’ for hit as long as de gittin’s good.

If you was keepin’ a store, to have folks charge things when dey didn’ know how dey could pay.

I’m willin’ fo’ to be treat dat way ef dey can[43] do hit. Let ’em come an’ git my things if dey finds any.

[Breaking down.] Oh, I cain’ stan’ hit. Youah sinkin’ fas’ down to de fiery lake an’ you’s pullin’ my Baby down too.

No, I’s raisin’ him up an’ I goin’ to lan’ us all in a sof’ place on dat Easy Street I heah ’em singin’ ’bout so long wifout seein’.

Dis. Oh, Madison, dis is ’Zek’l Williams’ own guitar dat he wouldn’ sell. Dis is de guitar dat nobody couldn’ buy. How you come by it?

Look heah, woman. You act like I stole de guitar. You don’t think I’m a thief, do you?

Oh, Madison, dat w’ite man stole dis guitar. Oh, take it back dis minute an’ snatch youah soul from de bu’nin’.

Who, me? What you tak me fo’, gal? Take back a guitar to de rich man, de man what own de very house we live in!

Dat’s right. We will. But dat ain’ de question. I didn’ git dis guitar fo’ to return it, I git[45] it fo’ to play it. I boun’ to play it cause I’m goin’ to be er rich man soon an’ I got to have a plenty music in me.

[Laughing comfortably.] Eh, yah, yah. Whoopee! No indeedy. I flies higher dan music flies. I’m one er dese heah kine er ’lectioneerin’ mens which make dere money work fo’ um. Dey sen’s one dollah out in de heat an’ sweats her twell she rolls home wif anutheh.

[Cunningly.] Oh, don’ yo’ botheh youah haid long er dat. I bin down low and folks trample me des same as a wu’m, but now I’m goin’ spread my wings an’ sting ’em like a king bee. Whaffo’ I lay dere an’ let’m trample me? ’Twere because I lack conferdence. I puts my ’pen’ance on dis promis’, I puts my ’pen’ance on dat, an’ dey all fails me.

Yassuh, I did, an’ Gawd He up an’ gimme de go-by too. What He bin doin’ fo’ me? Nuthin’. Now I goin’ spit on my han’s an’ whu’l in an’ trus’ myse’f. An’ I feels lots betteh. I can feel conferdence wukin’ all oveh me. I casts ’em all off. I’m lookin’ out fo’ myse’f. M-m-m—It took me long time to git heah but now I’m heah let ’em look out for me. [His voice rises to a chant.]

M—m—m—Midnight on de sea. All de lights out. I’m carryin’ hod on Jacob’ laddeh to build me a new house an’ I’m buildin’ it high, man. Don’ tech me. I’m a flame of fieh an’ I’ll singe you sho’. If dey asks fo’ me tell ’em say, “I saw somethin’ sailin’ up but he was headin’ fo’ a high hill on de sun an’ my eyes failed me.” Tell ’em say, “He had de fo’ win’s runnin’ like stallions to fetch up wif him but dey carried ’em out, an’ buried ’em in de valley. He bus’ dere hea’ts!” Tell ’em say, “He was herdin’ lightnin’s like sheep an’ dey wuz too slow an’ he picked ’em up an’ sheared ’em an’ sent ’em home.”

Dat’s me, I’m de one you’ll be talkin’ bout.[47] Fer why? ’Cause I cas’ off ever’thing an’ I puts my trus’ in myself an’ nuthin’ can’t hole me. De mo’ I says it de mo’ I feels conferdence. I feels it a wukin’.

I’m a stock brokin’ man. I goin’ into de stock brokin’ business tomorrer.

De Devil’s wrastlin’ wif you, Madison, an’ you’s perishin’ fas’. Ef you keeps on in dis paf you’ll lan’ mongs’ de rocks er mournin’. You’s let somebody tu’n you roun’.

Not me. Nobody can’t tu’n me roun’. I dreamed it an’ I dreamed it right, face fo’mos’ an’ on de run.

Las’ night an’ day befo’ yistiddy night an’ night befo’ dat. I wuz layin’ groanin’, “O Lawd, how long,” an’ I heah a voice say, “Git up an’ come a-runnin’.” Looks up an’ sees a fine w’ite saddle hoss. Hoss say,

On I gits an’ off he goes, slick as a rancid transom car. Comes to high hill lookin’ down on de sun an’ moon. Hoss stop an’ say,

I say to him, “I got no money to buy. Wheah I goin’ git de fun’s to buy low?” Hoss respon’:

Dat what de hoss say to me in my true dream ev’y night dis week an’ I’m a-goin’ to bide by hit twell de las’ er pea time. ’Cause I’m er true dreameh an’ my mammy she wuz befo’ me.

Now look-a heah, woman. I’m goin’ to make you a good livin’ f’um now on. I’m goin’ into business termorrer. I’m goin’ in de specalatin’ wu’k. I’m goin’ to buy low an’ sell high.

[Hesitating but collecting his forces gradually.] Oh, ain’t I tell you ’bout dat? I got it in de dream.

Um Hmmm. You know dat hoss I tole you ’bout. Well’m, jes’ fo’ we pa’ted he prance up th’ough a starry fiel’ an’ come to a gyarden fence. Oveh dat fence he lep an’, man, she was a fine gyarden. “Whose patch dish yer?” I say to him. Hoss say:

Den he reaches down an’ pulls up a tu’nip wif his teef an’ gives it to me an’ say,

[He watches Lucy furtively.] An’ I takes an’ sta’ts to peel dis tu’nip an’ what does I find? I finds she’s a fine fat roll er bills, dem tu’nip tops is greenbacks.

Well, no, not ezackly. De hoss whispeh sumpin in my eah an’ told me how to make dat dream money real money. An’ I took de hint an’ done it today. An’ on dat money I’ll buy low an’ gouge ’em all good.

Well’m— [He hesitates.] I got a little an’ den some. I got erbout—fifty er so.

Tu’n me loose, woman. I goin’ to baid. I got to make early sta’t. [He pulls off his coat.]

[Wildly.] I ain’ goin’ to let you stay in sin. [She snatches the coat from him.] I goin’ take dis money an’ make you say wheah you got it.

[Calmly regarding her with great good humour and breaking into a laugh as she fails in her search.] Eh, yah, yah, sea’ch an’ look, sea’ch an’ look.

Hones’! What kin’ er fool talk is dat? I done got my ear-string bus’ now an’ dem preachah wu’ds can’t fool me no mo’. You’ll neveh fin’ it, honey. ’Cause why? ’Cause I’m got it in my pants an’ I goin’ to keep it f’um a foolish woman.

Gal, ef you don’ tu’n me loose I’ll git ugly. Now, look heah. I wants to heah de las’ er dis. I got new ideahs. I got big plots en plans. I done give you de plankses in my flatfo’m an’ I’m a-goin’ to stan’ on hit. When I makes a lot mo’ money in de broker business I’m a-goin’ to give you all de gold youah ap’un’ll hold, ev’y day er youah life, an’ you won’ have to wait long.[53] But till dat day an’ to dat time I’m de treasu’eh er dis lodge an’ I’m de stake holdeh er dis race an’ dat money stays in de pu’se in de hip er my ol’ jeanses.

Oh, my Lawd, Oh, wheah is it? I got to have it. Oh, I couldn’ lose it, hit ain’ mine ter lose. Stay by me, Lucy, an’ he’p me fin’ it, git down on youah knees, Lucy. Oh, wheah did I drop it? I’m gittin’ old an’ needs it. Ef I lose dis I lose all my push. I was jes’ goin’ into business an’ we all wuz goin’ to fly high. I got to fin’ it. I ain’ give up. Lemme think. Oh, I hopes some hones’ puhson foun’ it. Lemme come on down—Know I put it on dat side ’cause dat de side Mistah Long he wuz on—Oh, I’ll go crazy— [He strikes his forehead groaning.]

[Starting.] Mistah Long! He’s cashiah in de Dime Savin’s! How he give you money?

Oh, lemme see—he gimme de money an’ I put it right in yere. [He fumbles again distractedly in his pocket.]

[Pursuing him desperately.] Onliest money at de Dime Savin’s is de money. You couldn’t draw hit out. You didn’ do dat,—you couldn’—Tell me if you did fo’ I’ll fin’ it out tomorrer—Oh, tell me true—you couldn’ when it’s in my name—tell me now fo’ I’ll find it out.

Ef you wan’ me to he’p you den be free wif me. How you draw money from de Bank? I give you no papeh. You couldn’ draw de money.

Oh, Gawd, dat w’ite man write my name. You drawed de money—I see it now. You had dealin’s wif a fo’geh, Wilson Byrd.

Spar’ me an’ he’p me. He tol’ me ef I draw de money he’d take me into business wif him an’ gimme de guitar besides.

Did you spar’ me? Fifty dollahs! You said fifty, didn’ you? How could you do hit? More’n six months’ ha’d slavin’. Six months mo’ befo’ I can resto’ it back. I could a bought de house tomorrer mo’nin’ an’ now hit’s six months off to pay in dat fifty. It was fifty, didn’ you say? Maybe ’twuzn’ dat much. Tell me right. I’ll fin’ it out tomorrer.

How much you draw? Tell me right. Look at me. Were hit fifty? [She holds his eye.] Less? Mo’? How much? [She continues to hold his lustreless eyes, reading them.] A hunde’d? Two hunde’d? Eight hunde’d? [A pause ensues as she reads the truth in his face.] All of hit! [She sinks in a chair.] Twelve yeahs’ labour sence I married you an’ termorrer I wuz goin’ to mek de payment an’ we’d a bin undeh owah own roof. I’m done. I could a paid off pa’t,[57] mebbe fifty, but I won’ las’ twelve yeahs mo’ at de same thing. But I thank Thee, Lawd, dat it wuz stole f’um us all ef hit had to be stole.

Ef I could on’y think. Had hit in de bank—felt hit an’ had it on Thu’d Street—slapped hit an’ had it at Joe’s house—slapped hit an’ had it comin’ up de alley—jes’ fo’ I clum de hill—lemme see—clum de hill—went in th’oo Wilson Byrd’s hedge fence—he gimme de guitar—scrape my back comin’ out— [His face shows gradual recollection, and suddenly brightens.] I knows now! Dat’s hit! In dat white man’s yard wheah he gimme de guitar! I wuz jes’ goin’ to give him de money when somebody grabbed him f’um behin’. He give a squawk an’ skeered me. I run out th’oo his hedge fence an’ scrape my back. I scrape de pocketbook out. She’s dere! In dat Wilson Byrd’s yard. I’ll git it yit. Watch me. [He grabs his hat and runs excitedly toward the door.]

[Rushing toward him.] No, sumpin’ might happen. You might git mix up wif him ergin. Lemme go, but I mus’ resto’ dis guitar at Uncle Williams, as I go by his house. I’ll slip it on his porch. Maybe he’ll neveh know it wuz[58] gone. Oh, if somebody had seen it heah! How could I have stood it?

Ain’ you goin’ shut de do’, Lucy? I feels draf’s.[59] I’m gittin’ old an’ catches cold easy. Ain’ you goin’ take my hat? [She reaches for it mechanically, watching him apprehensively.] No, de hat—not de stick—ol’ pu’son like me always need good stout stick er club case er havin’ faintin’ spell—sumpin’ to lean on. Now, wheah a cheer, bettah fetch me er cheer fo’ feah I might set on sumpin’ you wouldn’ choose fo’ me. [She obeys dumbly and brings a chair to him.] Set it neareh. Dat’s right. Now gimme youah shouldeh an’ ease me down. Ah— [He leans heavily on her and sinks totteringly into the chair with a great show of feebleness.] Now take a cheer yo’se’f. I ’spize to see a lady standin’ an’ me takin’ my res’, old ez I is. [She obeys, watching him with doubt and dread.] Set it dah, wheah I can see you good. [Madison is standing up by the wall, right, gazing at him as though paralyzed with fear.] Dah now. We kin be ca’m and have a nice talk. Does you know what business I come yere fo’ tonight? [He pauses.] You does, doesn’t you?

[Almost beside herself with nervous tension.] You—come to see—ef— [Recovering herself with a mighty effort.] Oh, yes, you come to look oveh de stove an’ see ef you like to buy hit.

[Musingly.] M-m. Well, I reckon—dat’s hit. Yes, dey tells me y’all has a wahmin’ stove to sell an’ now katydid cease, fros’ ain’ fur off, an’ I needs hit. Is dish yere de one?

[Rising and rushing toward door at side.] No, not dat. Hit’s outside—ef you please to step out.

Well’m, I’ll take’n look her oveh. [She hastily lights a candle as he rises and totters in the wrong direction.]

Th’oo heah, th’oo heah. De stove’s out in de woodshed. [She grasps and guides him.]

Ah—well’m. Um hm. I always gives things er good lookin’ oveh befo’ takin’ stock in ’m. You needn’ come erlong. I lived so long in dis house befo’ you wuz bawn dat I knows my way. Is de stove an easy wood eateh?

[Desperately seizing the bag and pressing it into his hands as she turns him again toward doorway at back.] Oh, I cain’ tell. On’y resto’ dis in case he don’ know er case he do. Now’s de one chance to be hones’.

Den I’ll take dis. [She takes up the guitar and she and Madison go toward door at back. Then she halts.] Oh, Madison, you can do bofe. One of us has got to stay wif Uncle Williams. But take back de guitar first.

All right. I’ll go. An’ I ain’t played on dis heah but twice. [He takes the guitar from her.]

[Entering more vigorously than before.] Well’m,[63] befo’ we goes any furder we betteh come neareh de real p’int an’ question. I didn’ come fo’ no stove dis night. [Madison shrinks back into the shadows.]

No’m. To be sho’, I might tek de stove one er dese days, but dat ain’ my erran’ now. Hit’s dis; does you know when we mek de bargum about you buyin’ dis heah house?

Gal, you dreamin’! ’Tweren’t but las’ year. ’Twere de fus’ er Octobah las’ year an’ I say I gives you de refusals fer one yeah. ’Membeh dat?

No, I’m er business man. I kin sell de house fer mo’ money termorrer but I hold’s to my wuhd ter sell it to you. I holds to it an’ loses money, but it falls due dis day an’ night an’ I won’ stretch it one jump er my hea’t.

Den up an’ do hit. Heah’s er check, all wrote out but de signin’. [She takes the check he produces.] An’ heah’s one er dese fountum pins. [She takes the pen.] Octobeh fus’—pay to Zek’l Williams—eight hunderd dollahs. Des write “Lucy Sparrow.” [She mechanically turns to do so.] Looks easy, sho’. But de law allows hit; dis writin’ out money. [He pauses, then adds impressively.] Dat is, ef you got de money in de bank. Co’se ef de money ain’ dah an’ you writes de check fer hit de law puts you in State prism. [She stops and stares at him.] [The pen falls from her hand and the check flutters to the floor.] What de matteh? You wants de house, don’ you? [Lucy’s head sinks.] An’ you got de money, ain’ you?

[Seemingly observing Madison for the first time during the evening.] Why, heighyo, Madison. I bin lookin’ fer you dis very evenin’. Whah you bin?

Well, ain’ dat de whu’lygig? I wuz lookin’ fer you at Pratt’s sto’ at eight o’clock an’ dey say you jes’ lef’ dah. You wuz dah, weren’t you?

[After watching the two a moment.] So you ain’ got de money no mo’, is you? [They are speechless before him.] I knows you ain’ ’ca’se I knows who has got hit.

I has. [He observes them and then chuckles softly.] I has de money an’ de bargum’s closed, fer de goods is bin delivered an’ dey’re right in dis room in dat corner. One guitar at eight hunderd dollahs. Insterments comes higher’n what dey did once but you would have it an’ now you got it an’ everybody’s fixed.

Yassuh, de man what buys guitars at dat price su’tinly plays on de golden strings. Eight hunderd fer one guitar makes ’m mighty near twenty thousand dollehs er dozen. De cos’[68] er livin’ is shore gone up but ef you mus’ you mus’.

Well, I cain’ stay heah, I got er be amblin’ on. I much erblige ter you to mek youah plans to move out er heah fo’ I got ter sell de house befo’ sundown. Well, so long, an’ I hopes you gits all de good er youah high price music. [He turns again with his feeble old man’s step toward the doorway, putting on his hat.] I wish y’all good evenin’.

[Moving toward him with the threatening determination of despair.] Say, I’ve got to have dat money. I sees red. I’m gone bad an’ I’ll kill befo’ I’ll lose hit.

You kill me! You tek money away from me! Why, you po’ grain er chaff, you don’ know me. I’m a king in my own right. I got ways an’[69] means er pertecktin’ myse’f dat you don’ even dream on an’ I don’ need to lay a fingeh on you to do hit. Furdermo’ I could brain you wif dis stick but ef you cross me I won’ be dat easy on you. Ef you don’ wan’ wuss’n dat don’ cross me no furder er youah troubles’ll begin fer fa’r.

You po’ sufferin’ gal, I won’ lay nothin’ onto ’im but I’m a-goin’ to tek sumpin’ off’n you. I’m goin’ tek de burding er dish yere pack er laziness off’n you. An’ fus’ I wants ter show you dish yere piece er papeh. [He produces a folded document and opens it.] Does yo’ know who wrote it? Answeh me. [He shoves the paper under Madison’s eye.]

Yassuh, an’ what’s mo’ it is dat man’s writin’. It’s his confession dat he fo’ge Lucy Sparrow’s name. I saw dat man steal my guitar an’ follered him home. Dah I grabbed him, dah I foun’ de purse wif Lucy’s name inside an’ dah I made dat thief write out his confession.[70] Knowed so much of his meanness already dat he had to do hit. An’ now I owns you. Does you undehstan’ dat? Answeh me.

Well, I’ll take’n cl’ar up de myst’ry fer you. I got dis confession outer Byrd an’ I got other things ter prove hit an’ I kin bring him an’ you too, bofe befo’ de gran’ jury.

Oh, my sweet Jesus, save him. [The old man stands watching the two before him for some time in silence. Lucy falls on her knees before him.] Oh, don’t sen’ Madison to de lawyers.

Mebbe not. But fus’, les’ put all dis talk aside dat I bin talkin’ up to now. I bin puttin’ on an’ pretendin’ in ordeh ter try you bofe an’ sif’ de chaff from de grain in you. I des bin playin’[71] wif you ter see how good you is an’ how ornry dish yere man er youahn is. Yit I’ll take an’ give him er chance even so, an’ I’ll pluck him f’um de bu’nin’ ef he follers de paf I p’ints out ter him. But we all got ter have cl’ar unde’stan’in’ ’bout dat. Fus’ an’ fo’mos’ youah money is all safe wif me. De house is youah’n.

In co’se. You didn’t speck I’d steal too, like a w’ite man, did you? I’ll fetch you de deeds fo’ hit fus’ thing in de mo’nin’.

Oh, fu’give me, I was all mix up. But you won’ sen’ Madison to de gran’ jury neitheh?

But I shorely goin’ to put dis man er youah’n th’oo er tes’ ter see whetheh he’s fitten ter keep out er jail. Madison, will you tek er tes’?

Yassuh, dat’s hit, no mo’ ner no less. I’m goin’ give you dat guitar—but—dere’s suhtinly goin’ to be a string tied to it. You kin take dat guitar but you got to make somethin’ outer yourself wif her or back she’ll come to me. You kin give lessons an’ learn folks music or you kin write down de music you make, but you got to do somethin’ wif it fer Lucy. You got to wake up or I’ll take de guitar. Which’ll it be? Make youah choice.

An’ dat ain’ all. You got ter quit runnin’ wif Byrd an’ Byrd wif you, you got ter be a better husban’ an’ you got to min’ everything Lucy tells you. Will you do hit?

Well, suh, you got ter jine de frantics now. No dram drinking at all. Will you quit hit er go ter jail?

Well, dat’s on’y a promise but I’ll shore hol’ you to hit er put you behin’ de bahs. Why, look heah, man, does you know how you stan’ ’pon top er dis yu’th? Does you know how you liken to er tree? ’Sposin’ sumpin’ wif er cool eye like er tree could see you an’ talk. I cain’ jedge you ca’m but er tree could. Tree would look at you an’ say, “Does dat ’ere man wu’k?” Win’ ’ud whispeh, “No.” “Do he eat?” “Yas ’n git fat,” respon’ de win’. “Who shines on him?” “His wife,” win’ say. “Do he put fo’th flower an’ bless de wife?” say de tree.[74] “No.” “Do he give shade an’ shelteh ter de wife?” say de tree. “No.” “Well, chop’m down an’ bu’n him befo’ he rots,” say de tree. “Dat’s all.” But mebbe I kin mek mo’ of him dan dat an’ so I’ll try prunin’ him an’ graftin’ some good labeh onto him. An’ I kin’ er think hit’ll save him yit. Well’m, I must be er goin’ now. Hit’s late an’ I mus’ git my res’ fer I got to do a lot er bossin’ termorrer an dat’s allers ha’d fer me. Lucy, I’ll fetch you de deeds ter de house befo’ nine termorrer an’, Madison, you kin repo’t to me at eight o’clock sha’p an’ give my little boy a lesson on de guitar. You’ll be dah, won’t you?

Well den, les’ all shek han’s on de noo nes’ an’ de noo aig. [They shake hands. He puts on his hat and turns to the door.] An’ dat remin’s me, Lucy, you better tell Madison to play on dat guitar a plenty tonight because he’ll need music[75] fer to stan’ up undeh all de lessons I’m goin’ to lay onto him. Well, I wish you good night. I’m er gittin’ kin’er ole an’ I cain’ stay up late no mo’ without bein’ crosser in de mornin’. Good night den an’ far’ you well bofe. Eight o’clock, Madison. Good night.

[Throwing her arms around him.] Oh, my husban’, I’ll pray fer you. Don’ sorrer now. Git youah res’ tonight. We kin be hones’ now. We’ve got de house at las’ an heah’s de guitar.

Yassuh, heah’s de guitar. [He plays it and fondles it. Then his face assumes again its melancholy look.]

I don’ undehstan’ dis worl’. If I wants to make music why cain’t folks lemme alone to make music? If I dream a fine dream why is it I always wake up? Looks to me like somebody’s[76] always tryin’ to crowd me out an’ git me in a tight place.

You wuz doin’ all right till you got mix up wif dat white man an’ his tricks. De trouble wuz dat dis dream of youahs wuzn’t a good dream.

Yes, but not all of my dreams is bad ones. All, I wants is room to dream my good dreams an’ make my own music.

Note.—Although Cyrene was in northern Africa, the wall-paintings in the vast Cyrenian tombs depict black people instead of brown.

That Jesus’ cross-bearer was a black man, as the early painters represented him, is a fact that holds a certain suggestion bearing upon a phase of modern society.

It has been the author’s design that all the characters in this play should be represented by persons entirely or partly of Negro blood; and this intention has been carried out in the original stage production. Simon is a full-blooded Negro, Battus is a little less dark, Acte is a mulatto as were most Egyptians of the later dynasties. Her attendants comprise both mulattoes and Negroes. The Roman characters are played by persons of slighter negroid strain.

And as they led him away they laid hold upon one Simon, a Cyrenian, ... and on him they laid the cross that he might bear it after Jesus.

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Scene: A garden of Pilate’s house at Jerusalem. The whole scene is strictly Roman, softened by its eastern location and by the beginnings of Rome’s decadence, but there is no trace of Judean influence. At the back there is a gallery or raised portico reaching entirely across the garden. It is roofed but open and beyond it the morning sky is seen. This passageway, which will be called the portico, leads from the Praetorium on the left to other buildings on the right. The garden has entrances toward the back at both left and right. At the left, near the front, a narrow portion of the façade of Pilate’s house is seen, with a doorway reached by three steps. At the right of the garden, near the front, there is a wall fountain. There is a marble seat at back centre. All the architecture is of mellow marble as dark as alabaster.

Send others after him, take wings. [Drusus enters the garden from the left.] Drusus! Help me draw him swiftly.

Trees groaned, the statues shuddered, the fountains dried, the walls sweated, a red dew fell in the gardens.

Of him. He must not die. I begged his life of Pilate but he fears the Jews. Help me.

I heard many voices in my dream and one voice cried, “Simon the African shall bear the burden.”

[Scornfully.] The friend of slaves! Wherever he goes insurrection follows him. He was the secret leader of last year’s armed uprising in Rome when thirty thousand perished. He hollows out the empire with sedition.

His influence spreads through the provinces. He plans world empire, undermining Rome. Cæsar has been warned of him, but is afraid or listless.

There is a rumour that he was here two nights ago to renew the insurrection of Barabbas. We had spies set upon him.

Does he fear spies? I have sent for this man. If the Nazarene is condemned Simon must kindle riot and take him from the soldiers.

It is for Rome’s sake and in my extremity. What singing is that? I heard it in my dream.

I cannot. I bear word from Pilate to Herod. [He goes off right. A Herald in Egyptian dress enters from left.]

If his mood holds he will not fail to come since you have sent for him. Your men have told me that he nears the city.

[Coming down close to Acte and speaking in a low voice.] Jesus the Nazarene must not die.

More lives than this magician’s wait on Simon. [An Attendant of Procula enters from left.]

Beg him to stay for me, for one word more. I’ll follow. [Attendant goes out left. To Acte.] Command my household, wait here for Simon. [Seizing Acte and pointing toward the Judgment Hall.] In there and at this hour the fate of earth and heaven dangles in the hands of blind men. Tell Simon this, see that his eyes are open.

And have you forgotten Cyrene and Egypt and our kingdom of the free? [Acte hushes the boy, looking apprehensively about.]

[To her Attendants.] Take the boy deeper in the garden. Wait there till I call him. [The Attendants lead Battus off left.]

[Moving swiftly to Simon.] You are in danger here. What sorcery called you back?

What spell is on you, you who were never trapped? This is the wolf’s own mouth. You tempt it to close upon you.

Perhaps this afternoon. Oh, Simon, wake. Shake off this net of dreams. How were you taken in it?

You have forgotten Battus and all your holy vows before the priests of Libya and Egypt to bring him back to Africa Rome’s conqueror.

Come, lad, sit here. [She leads him to a seat at centre.] Let’s play at worlds for Simon. Who are you?

No, for this man’s spirit threatens to overcome you; they have called him king; there cannot be two kings, and you the lesser, in the world we plan.

Legions of captives in the empire wait for you to set them free. Shall you yourself be captive?

[To Simon.] If you are now led astray you mock our Africa and the new world we plan there.

[Recalling him by a touch so that he turns.] The time is not yet ripe. A new sedition now suddenly bursting would dash down all our dreams.

[Going to Simon who stands motionless.] What will you do now, now that he is condemned?

[Suddenly seeing him.] Barabbas! [Running to Acte.] Look to the lad, lead him to safety. We’ll fire the city. Hide with him till I join you. The temple shall be in flames before they lead the Nazarene past it. [Acte leading Battus and her people hurries out left. Simon rushes to Barabbas, speaking swiftly.] Go where the arms are stored. Give the slaves weapons and torches. Rouse all, arm all, stand by me to free the Nazarene. I’ll lead his friends. Bring the slaves quickly. Strike, give all the signal. [Barabbas stands motionless.] Go.

Put up the sword. For they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. [The sword falls from Simon’s hand.]

Who are you that you rush against legionaries? Have you an army that you come against us? Are you a madman? Are you also one of his followers?

[Turning and calling to someone off right.] Ho, Longinus, come; here is another. [To Simon.] What is your name and place?

[To the Centurion.] The Nazarene has fallen. The cross crushes him. He can go no further.

Here is the scarlet robe, it fell from the King’s shoulders, Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. Of such are the Kingdom of Heaven. [He places the robe on Simon.]

Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For if they do these things in a green tree what shall be done in the dry?

Ho, another king, another saviour. Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Let him be crowned. Blessed are the meek.

The following pages contain advertisements of other Macmillan plays.

THE PLAYS OF SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE

The Cycle of Spring: A Play

“All the joy, the buoyancy, the resilience, the indomitable and irrepressible hopefulness of Youth are compacted in the lines of the play. The keynote is sounded, with subtle symbolism, in the Prelude, in which the King ranks above all matters of State or of Humanity the circumstances that two gray hairs had made their appearance behind the ear that morning.... Dramatic power, philosophy, and lyric charm are brilliantly blended in a work of art that has the freshness and the promise of its theme.”—New York Tribune.

Chitra: A Play in One Act

“He has given us the soul of the East disembodied of its sensuality, and within it shines the most perfect tribute to true womanhood and its claims.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

“The play is told with the simplicity and wonder of imagery always characteristic of Rabindranath Tagore.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer.

The King of the Dark Chamber

“The most careless reader can hardly proceed far into these inspired pages without realizing that he is in the presence of holy things—of an allegory of the soul as has not before been told in the English tongue.”—Chicago Evening Post.

The Post Office

“Once more Tagore demonstrates the universality of his genius; once more he shows how art and true feeling know no racial and religious lines.”—Kentucky Post.

DRAMAS BY LEWIS V. LEDOUX

Yzdra: A Tragedy in Three Acts

“The reader is struck by the fascinating possibilities of Yzdra as acting drama. It would make a striking and beautiful play for the stage, and we can well imagine that even the greatest actress would be glad to assume the rôle of the ill-fated Princess. The dialogue is, from the point of view of the stage, certain in its effective quality.”—New York Times.

“There are both grace and strength in this drama and it also possesses the movement and spirit for presentation upon the stage. Some of the figures used are striking and beautiful, quite free from excess, and sometimes almost austere in their restraint. The characters are clearly individualized and a just balance is preserved in the action.”—Outlook.

The Story of Eleusis

“The most thoroughly imbued with the classic mood of the younger American poets is Louis V. Ledoux. In him rings a genuine passion; no false simulation; no reflection of a glamour that is remote by association, or is the thin echo of other imaginative voices.... Beside the beauty of the verse, stately and rich in its calm melodic simplicity, there is envisaged a feeling for the deeper springs of life.”—Boston Transcript.

“This lyrical drama comes from the pen of one of the finest of our young modern poets.... With a strength and simplicity that puts to shame the diffuseness and depravity of the new writers of vers libre ... this author writes a play less sensational than his previous ‘Yzdra’ but more sustained.... ‘Eleusis’ is Hellenic in the subject and in the beauty of its proportion and harmony ... and several of its lyrics are marvelous songs in rhythmic phrase and in underlying thought.”—The Bellman (Minneapolis).

“There must be thousands of readers who would give this new poem a warm and grateful welcome if only the rare quality of it could be brought properly to their attention.... This does not signify necessarily that the poem is an unqualified masterpiece, but it indicates the presence of a quality that has always been present in the grand style when the grand style has compelled itself to endure.”—The New York Evening Sun.

The Canterbury Pilgrims: A Comedy

The principal characters are Geoffrey Chaucer; Alisoun, the wife of Bath; Madame Eglantine, the prioress, and Johanna, Marchioness of Kent. The time of the action is in April, 1387, and the scenes are the Tabard Inn, Southwark, another tavern on the road, and the exterior of Canterbury Cathedral. The story, which is entertaining from first to last, has to do with Chaucer’s adventure with the wife of Bath and his love for the prioress.

“Every line of The Canterbury Pilgrims seems to have been wrought with infinite pains. The play possesses splendid literary qualities—and it is actable.”—Dramatic Mirror.

“For a twentieth century author to take the characters of Chaucer’s famous stories and give them parts in a new comedy in verse, is a bold, nay, a perilous undertaking. But Mr. Percy MacKaye has carried it through with a large measure of success. He has drunk deep of the great Father of English poetry’s well, so that the comedy’s delightfully quaint language has the real Chaucerian ring. With much skill he portrays the pilgrims, picturing their respective failings and virtues so deftly that they appeal as strongly to modern taste as they did to our ancestors, yet preserving generally the mediæval tone.... Specially amusing is Friar Hubert, a jovial, mischievous rogue, whose drollery is irresistible.”—Oxford Chronicle.

“Throughout the play the characters of these two most innocent lovers [Chaucer and the prioress] are maintained with exquisite humor and feeling for life. Outside of the covers of Shakespeare it would be hard to find anything of the kind at once more original and more nearly on Shakespeare’s level.”—New York Times.

Three Short Plays

The brilliant dialogue in the novels of Mary S. Watts has always evoked the heartiest of praise from the critics. In fact it is not infrequently maintained that of all American writers Mrs. Watts is the most adept in the handling of book conversations. Her appearance, therefore, as a dramatist, is not at all unexpected to those who have been following her literary career. Her book, Three Short Plays, justifies the expectations of those who have looked for worthwhile work from her in this field.

Van Zorn: A Comedy in Three Acts

Edwin Arlington Robinson is known as one of the most accomplished of the younger generation of American poets. In this delightful play Mr. Robinson tells with a biting humor the story of the salvation of a soul.

“Attraction of the play is the manner in which from scene to scene the interest is piqued, until at last there is a denouement almost Shavian in its impudence, that is, the impudence of the main characters.

“One imagines the play would be highly entertaining on the stage. Incidentally it affords good reading.”—Kentucky Post.

The Porcupine: A Drama in Three Acts

Edwin Arlington Robinson’s comedy “Van Zorn” proved him to be one of the most accomplished of the younger generation of American dramatists. Of this play the Boston Transcript said, “It is an effective presentation of modern life in New York City, in which a poet shows his skill of playwriting ... he brings to the American drama to-day a thing it sadly lacks, and that is character.”

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Granny Maumee; The rider of dreams; Simon the Cyrenian by Ridgely Torrence

GRANNY MAUMEE
THE RIDER OF DREAMS
SIMON THE CYRENIAN

GRANNY MAUMEE

GRANNY MAUMEE

THE RIDER OF DREAMS

THE RIDER OF DREAMS

SIMON THE CYRENIAN

SIMON THE CYRENIAN

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The following pages contain advertisements of other Macmillan plays.

THE PLAYS OF SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE

The Cycle of Spring: A Play

Chitra: A Play in One Act

The King of the Dark Chamber

The Post Office

DRAMAS BY LEWIS V. LEDOUX

Yzdra: A Tragedy in Three Acts

The Story of Eleusis

The Canterbury Pilgrims: A Comedy

Three Short Plays

Van Zorn: A Comedy in Three Acts

The Porcupine: A Drama in Three Acts

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Granny Maumee; The rider of dreams; Simon the Cyrenian by Ridgely Torrence

GRANNY MAUMEE THE RIDER OF DREAMS SIMON THE CYRENIAN

GRANNY MAUMEE

GRANNY MAUMEE

THE RIDER OF DREAMS

THE RIDER OF DREAMS

SIMON THE CYRENIAN

SIMON THE CYRENIAN

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The following pages contain advertisements of other Macmillan plays.

THE PLAYS OF SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE

The Cycle of Spring: A Play

Chitra: A Play in One Act

The King of the Dark Chamber

The Post Office

DRAMAS BY LEWIS V. LEDOUX

Yzdra: A Tragedy in Three Acts

The Story of Eleusis

The Canterbury Pilgrims: A Comedy

Three Short Plays

Van Zorn: A Comedy in Three Acts

The Porcupine: A Drama in Three Acts

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

GRANNY MAUMEE
THE RIDER OF DREAMS
SIMON THE CYRENIAN