Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 13

IMP. [_Throws down his pen, chuckles, and half standing on the rungs of his chair and balancing himself against his desk, surveys the ledger._]

Your honor, I've all the miseries listed to date and a fine lot there is to choose from. Everything from bunions to old wives for exchange.

JUDGE. [_Scowls and impatiently taps the letter he is reading._] Here is another one. A woman suspects her husband of a misalliance. Wants to catch him, but is so crippled with rheumatism she can't get about. Wants us to exchange her rheumatism for something that won't interfere with either her walking or her eyesight.

IMP. [_Referring to the ledger and running his finger along the lines._]

We have a defective heart or a lazy liver that we could give her.

JUDGE. [_Irritably tossing the letter over to_ IMP.] She would not be satisfied. People never are. They always want to change their miseries, but never their vices. Each thinks his own cross heavier than others have to bear, but he is very willing to make light of his own weaknesses and shortcomings. He thinks they are not half so bad as his neighbor's.

I have tried for years to aid distressed humanity, but I can't satisfy them. I am growing tired of it all, Imp. People need a lesson and they're going to get it, too. I am going to----

[_Knock is heard at the street door._ JUDGE _sighs, turns to his desk and begins to write_. IMP _sweeps the litter of papers on his desk into a drawer, closes ledger, and goes to answer knock_.

IMP. Here comes another misery.

[IMP _opens the door to admit the_ POOR MAN, _who is very shabbily dressed. He hesitates, looks around the room as if he were in the wrong place, and then addresses_ IMP _in a loud whisper_.

POOR MAN. [_Indicating the_ JUDGE _with a motion of his head_.] Is that him?

IMP. [_Whispering loudly his reply._] Yes, that is his honor.

POOR MAN. [_Still whispering and showing signs of nervousness._] Do I dare speak to him?

IMP. [_Enjoying the situation and still whispering._] Yes, but be careful what you say.

POOR MAN. [_Takes off his hat, approaches slowly to the railing, and speaks humbly._] Your honor. I--[_Swallows hard, clears throat._] Your honor, I've a little favor--to ask of you.

JUDGE. [_Looking coldly at the_ POOR MAN.] Well?

POOR MAN. You see, your honor, I've been poor all my life. I've never had much fun. I don't ask for a lot of money, but--I would like enough so that I could have some swell clothes, and--so that I could eat, drink, and be merry with the boys. You know, I just want to have a good time. Do you think you could fix it for me, Judge?

JUDGE. [_Gazes at him sternly for a moment._] So you just want to have a good time? Want me to take away your poverty? I suppose you have no moral weakness you want to change, no defects in your character that you want to better?

POOR MAN. [_Stammering and twirling his hat._] Why, w-hy, Judge, I--I am not a bad man. Of--of course, I have my faults, but then--I've never committed any crimes. I guess I stack up pretty fair as men go. I'm just awful tired of being poor and never having any fun. Couldn't you help me out on that point, Judge?

JUDGE. [_Sighs wearily and turns to_ IMP.] Bring me the ledger.

[IMP _gives him the ledger in which he has been writing_. JUDGE _opens it, and then speaks sharply to the_ POOR MAN.

JUDGE. You understand, do you, my good man, that if I take away your poverty and give you enough money for your good time, you will have to accept another misery?

POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Yes, your honor, that's all right. I'm willing.

JUDGE. [_Scanning ledger._] Very well. Let us see. Here is paralysis.

POOR MAN. [_Hesitatingly._] Well. I--I couldn't have a--very good time, if--if I was paralyzed.

JUDGE. [_Shortly._] No. I suppose not. How about a gla.s.s eye?

POOR MAN. [_Anxiously._] Please, your honor, if I'm going to have a good time I need two good eyes. I don't want to miss anything.

JUDGE. [_Wearily turning over the leaves of the ledger._] A man left his wife here for exchange, perhaps you would like her.

POOR MAN. [_s.h.i.+fting from one foot to the other and nervously twirling his hat._] Oh, Judge, oh, no, please, no. I don't want anybody's old cast-off wife.

JUDGE. [_Becoming exasperated._] Well, choose something, and be quick about it. Here is lumbago, gout, fatness, old age, and----

IMP. [_Interrupting, and walking quickly over to the railing._] Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the indigestion that Mr.

Potter left when he took old Mrs. Pratt's fallen arches.

POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Indigestion? Sure! That will be fine! I won't mind a little thing like indigestion if I can get rid of my poverty.

JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Very well. Raise your right hand. Repeat after me: "I swear to accept indigestion for better or for worse as my portion of the world's miseries, so help me G.o.d."

POOR MAN. [_Solemnly._] "I swear to accept indigestion for better or for worse as my portion of the world's miseries, so help me G.o.d."

JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.

[POOR MAN _follows_ IMP, _who conducts him to the heavily curtained door. The_ POOR MAN _throws out his chest and swaggers a bit, as a man might who had suddenly come into a fortune_. IMP _swaggers along with him_.

IMP. Won't you have a grand time, though. I'll get you a menu card, so that you can be picking out your dinner.

POOR MAN. [_Joyfully slapping_ IMP _on the back_.] Good idea, and I'll pick out a regular banquet.

[_Pausing a moment before he pa.s.ses through the curtains, he smiles and smacks his lips in antic.i.p.ation. Exit._

JUDGE. [_Speaks disgustedly to_ IMP.] There you are! He's perfectly satisfied with his morals. Has no defects in his character. Just wants to have a good time.

[_Sighs heavily and turns back to his writing._ IMP _nods his head in agreement and chuckles slyly_.

[_The street door opens slowly and the_ VAIN WOMAN _stands upon the threshold. She does not enter at once, but stands posing--presumably she desires to attract attention, and she is worthy of it. She has a superb figure, and her rich gowning enhances it. Her fair face reveals a shallow prettiness, but the wrinkles of age are beginning to leave telltale lines upon its smoothness. As_ IMP _hurries forward to usher her in, she sweeps grandly past him to the centre of the stage_. IMP _stops near the door, with his hands on his hips, staring after her, then takes a few steps in imitation of her. She turns around slowly and, sauntering over to the railing, coughs affectedly, and as the_ JUDGE _rises and bows curtly, she speaks in a coaxing manner_.

VAIN WOMAN. Judge, I have heard that you are very kind, and I have been told that you help people out of their troubles, so I have a little favor to ask of you.

JUDGE. [_Coldly._] Yes, I supposed so; go on.

VAIN WOMAN. [_Archly._] Well, you know that I am a famous beauty; in fact, both my face and my form are considered very lovely. [_She turns around slowly that he may see for himself._] Great and celebrated men have wors.h.i.+pped at my feet. I simply cannot live without admiration. It is my very life. But, Judge [_plaintively_], horrid wrinkles are beginning to show in my face. [_Intensely._] Oh, I would give anything, do anything, to have a smooth, youthful face once more. Please, oh, please, won't you take away these wrinkles [_touching her face with her fingers_] and give me something in their stead.

JUDGE. [_Looking directly at her and speaking coldly._] Are you satisfied with yourself in other ways? Is your character as beautiful as your face? Have you no faults or weaknesses that you want exchanged?

VAIN WOMAN. [_Uncertainly._] Why, I--don't know what you mean. I am just as good as any other woman and lots better than some I know. I go to church, and I subscribe to the charities, and I belong to the best clubs. [_Anxiously._] Oh, please, Judge, it's these wrinkles that make me so unhappy. Won't you exchange them? You don't want me to be unhappy, do you? Please take them away.

JUDGE. [_Wearily looking over the ledger._] Oh, very well, I'll see what I can do for you. [_To_ IMP.] Fetch a chair for this lady.

[IMP _gives her a chair and she sits facing front_. IMP _returns to his desk, perches himself upon it and watches the_ VAIN WOMAN _interestedly_. JUDGE _turns over the leaves of the ledger_.

JUDGE. I have a goitre that I could exchange for your wrinkles.

VAIN WOMAN. [_Protestingly, clasping her hands to her throat._] Oh, heavens, no! That would ruin my beautiful throat. See. [_Throwing back her fur and exposing her neck in a low-cut gown._] I have a lovely neck.

[IMP _makes an exaggerated attempt to see_.