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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pirates, by Colin Campbell Clements

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Pirates
       A comedy in one act

Author: Colin Campbell Clements

Release Date: May 4, 2012 [EBook #39609]

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIRATES ***




Produced by Mark C. Orton, Paul Clark and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)






Transcriber's Note:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.

Some changes of spelling and punctuation have been made. They are listed at the end of the text.

PIRATES

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT

BY

COLIN CAMPBELL CLEMENTS

Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French

Amateurs may perform this play without payment
of royalty. All other rights reserved.

New York
SAMUEL FRENCH
(Incorporated 1898)
Publisher

London
Samuel French, Ltd.
26 Southampton Street
Strand

PIRATES CHARACTERS

Mrs. Warren
Betty
Mrs. Lawty
Mrs. Romney
Mrs. Pickering
Mrs. Lawer
Clara

The play takes place in Mrs. Warren's little living room during the early Victorian period. At the left is a door leading to another part of the house. A door at the back opens into the entrance hall. As the curtain rises, Mrs. Warren, seated in a large chair, is talking to her maid, Clara.

Mrs. Warren. Gossip is malicious, my dear girl, positively malicious. Doesn't the Bible say—(The knocker sounds.) There, isn't that the door? (Clara starts to go.) Oh, Clara, before you open the door, be sure and dust off the table in the hall and——

(Clara goes out. Mrs. Warren arranges her dress and the little lace cap on her head.)

Clara. (From the door) It's Mrs. Lawty, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Oh, the dear soul! Have her come right in—right in, Clara.

(Clara goes out. Mrs. Lawty enters.)

Mrs. Lawty. Good afternoon—good afternoon, Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren. Good afternoon, my dear. Do sit down, Mrs. Lawty—do sit down.

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, thank you. I have just dropped in for a moment. I am on my way to the meeting of the "Helping Hand Society," and as I had to pass this way I just came in to see how you were. I hope I am not interrupting any work you may be doing, my dear.

Mrs. Warren. Oh, dear, no. I was just giving my maid a little lecture ... on gossip.

Mrs. Lawty. Gossip?

Mrs. Warren. It is so malicious.

Mrs. Lawty. Positively unladylike! One could almost compare a lady who gossips to a ... to a pirate.

Mrs. Warren. A what, Mrs. Lawty?

Mrs. Lawty. A pirate. They are sort of wild thieves, you know, and steal things from perfectly innocent people, Mrs. Warren. The South Sea Islands are full of them ... pirates, I mean. Why, I read in our missionary paper, just last week, that one poor man was overtaken by pirates who took away his watch and, I hesitate to say it, his trousers!

Mrs. Warren. His trousers! Dreadful!

Mrs. Lawty. The rest of the story is too indelicate to repeat.

Mrs. Warren. Yes ... yes, some things are often better left unsaid. (Pause.) But one need never be ashamed to speak the truth. What is the rest of the story, Mrs. Lawty?

Mrs. Lawty. The poor man was forced to come into port with a bad cold in his head ... and in his pajamas!

Mrs. Warren. Oh!

Mrs. Lawty. And that is why I call a woman who gossips a pirate.

Mrs. Warren. Yes ... yes. Though one can hardly think of any woman unlawfully taking a poor gentleman's trousers.

Mrs. Lawty. Hardly. But to steal one's good name is to take one's cloak of righteousness, so to speak. And, oh, my dear, few people can face the world without it. The soul is so much more important than the body.

Mrs. Warren. One should keep both properly clothed.

Mrs. Lawty. Yes ... though on the South Sea Islands the people wear nothing but grass skirts.

Mrs. Warren. One could hardly do that in England.

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, but the people there, in the South Seas, are like little children ... pure of mind. And so it is one of the very first rules of the "Helping Hand Society" that no gossip shall pass our lips.

Mrs. Warren. Such a worthy organization. I am sure the ladies of Northampton are doing a noble work.

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, yes, indeed, Mrs. Warren. Why, only last week we sent off a large box of soap to the natives of East Africa and now we are getting a box of napkins and tablecloths ready. We are doing such splendid work for our less fortunate brothers and sisters in a far land.

Mrs. Warren. Brothers and sisters! One hardly feels that way toward them, Mrs. Lawty. I am told they are quite black.

Mrs. Lawty. Nevertheless they are Gaud's creatures.

Mrs. Warren. My dear, I shall have Clara make you a hot cup of tea. It will rest you. (She calls) Clara ... Clara!

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, no, thank you ... really. I mustn't stop. I always like to get to the society meetings early ... otherwise one misses so much that is interesting. (She rises.)

(Clara appears.)

Mrs. Warren. Never mind, Clara. (Clara starts to go.) Oh, Clara, Clara——

Clara. Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Clara, will you put the water on to boil? And make the tea rather strong ... but not too strong ... just so.

Clara. Yes, ma'am. (She goes out.)

Mrs. Lawty. By the way, have you met the new doctor and his wife, Mrs. Warren?

Mrs. Warren. Yes, I have called on Mrs. Hunter.

Mrs. Lawty. (She sits down again) Oh, really? How interesting.

Mrs. Warren. But, of course, Betty knows both of them. I must call on Mrs. Hunter again. But I get out so seldom now ... so seldom. I am so afraid to walk on the new ... pavement, I believe they call it. Betty is very fond of them both ... the Hunters, I mean.

Mrs. Lawty. Quite ... though Mrs. Romney told Mrs. Pickering who told me that the Hunters did not get along well together. It seems she is a Church of England woman while the doctor is the son of a Scotch Presbyterian, so of course——

Mrs. Warren. Though I believe they have been married all of five or six years.

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, really, I did not know that. How interesting! I must tell Mrs. Romney. But Mrs. Lawer told me that the doctor calls Mrs. Hunter "Dearest" ... in public!

Mrs. Warren. Such poor taste.

Mrs. Lawty. I always suspect a man who is over-demonstrative ... in public.

Mrs. Warren. But of course one——

(Betty comes running in, her arms full of daisies.)

Betty. Mother dear—— Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Lawty. See the wonderful flowers Doctor Hunter just gave me.

Mrs. Warren. Doctor Hunter gave you those?

Mrs. Lawty. Doctor Hunter!

Betty. Yes, his garden is full of them! Aren't they beauties?

Mrs. Warren. But you hardly know him well enough to——

Betty. You see we are getting acquainted. He was on his way to see Mrs. Hallway and——

Mrs. Lawty. Is she ill again?

Betty. Rheumatism ... not really serious.

Mrs. Lawty. Oh, really?

Betty. And as the doctor was coming this way, he walked to the gate with me ... we had a lovely chat. Doctor Hunter is such an interesting conversationalist.

Mrs. Lawty. (Coldly) Walking! Hasn't he a carriage?

Betty. Oh, yes, but it is such a wonderful day for walking.

Mrs. Lawty. I daresay that all depends upon with whom one is walking.

Mrs. Warren. Betty, you don't really mean to tell me that you walked ... walked down a public highway with a strange man!

Betty. Why, Mother, he isn't a strange man. I know both Doctor and Mrs. Hunter.

Mrs. Warren. But such a short acquaintance ... and to be walking with him ... walking with him in broad daylight.

Betty. What would you have me do? Walk with him after dark?

Mrs. Warren. Oh!

Mrs. Lawty. (When she recovers her breath) I—I really must be going, Mrs. Warren. I must not be late to the meeting, you know. (She pauses.) And perhaps you would rather be alone with your daughter at this time. (She rises.) Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren. Good afternoon.

Mrs. Warren. Good afternoon, Mrs. Lawty.

Betty. Good-bye.

(Mrs. Lawty goes out. Mrs. Warren waits until the front door slams before she speaks.)

Mrs. Warren. (Much concerned) Betty, how could you?

Betty. But, Mother——

Mrs. Warren. Walking with a man, a man who is married and not on the best terms with his wife, accepting flowers from him, a Presbyterian, unchaperoned. Oh! It is so unbecoming ... so—so unladylike, not to say indiscreet. Oh! Why, when I was a girl——

Betty. I know. (She goes close to her mother.) But things have changed so since then, dear.

Mrs. Warren. Not in Northampton, thank heaven. Here, at least, we still keep some of the old propriety. Oh, Betty, this bold indiscretion of yours would have killed your poor, dear father!

Betty. (Turning away) Perhaps that's what did ... too much propriety.

Mrs. Warren. Did you say something, Betty?

Betty. I am sorry, dear ... truly sorry if I have caused you any anxiety.

Mrs. Warren. We must cultivate the doctor's wife at once. There must be no room for gossip among the ladies of Northampton.

Betty. Cultivate Mrs. Hunter? Oh, I would love to. She is a delightful person. Don't you like her, Mother?

Mrs. Warren. She seems very nice, but, of course, one must be very careful about strangers.

Betty. She is very fond of outdoor life, and all that sort of thing. Oh, she is a regular sport!

Mrs. Warren. Betty! Let me never hear such a remark from you again. Sport! Am I to understand, then ... am I to understand that Mrs. Hunter is one of those dreadful mannish sort of persons who—— (The knocker sounds.) Oh, dear me! I wonder who that can be?

Betty. If you don't mind, Mother, I shall go up to my room. I want to do a water-color sketch of these flowers while they are still fresh.

Mrs. Warren. Stop here a bit, Betty.

(Clara enters from the hall.)

Clara. It is Mrs. Romney, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Oh, do have her come right in, Clara ... and Clara, serve the tea at once. (Clara goes out.) Mrs. Romney—oh, dear ... such a bombastic sort of a person, so to speak.

Betty. She was educated in London, you know.

Mrs. Warren. Yes, poor dear, she has so much to live down. It must be dreadful to have been educated in London ... such a naughty place. Think of the dreadful environment, my dear, London!

(Mrs. Romney enters.)

Mrs. Romney. Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren. How do you do, Betty, dear?

Mrs. Warren. Do sit down, Mrs. Romney.

Mrs. Romney. Did I hear you speaking of London as I came in, Mrs. Warren?

Mrs. Warren. London? Speaking of London? Were we speaking of London, Betty? Yes, I believe I did say——

Mrs. Romney. Dear old London ... how I long for it!

Mrs. Warren. But my dear Mrs. Romney, London surely hasn't the ... the refinement of Northampton.

Mrs. Romney. Northampton! Ah! Why, this place is as far from the world as ... as the South Sea Islands!

Mrs. Warren. Mrs.

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