In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.What Every Woman Knows by Sir James Matthew Barrie (100 books to read .TXT) 📖
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you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was married.
MAGGIE. No, he's not married; but he will be soon.
COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours?
MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don't think much of her.
COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her.
MAGGIE. There's not much to tell. She's common, and stupid. One of those who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break down. [With sinister enjoyment] She'll be the ruin of him.
COMTESSE. But is not that sad! Figure to yourself how many men with greatness before them have been shipwrecked by marrying in the rank from which they sprang.
MAGGIE. I've told her that.
COMTESSE. But she will not give him up?
MAGGIE. No.
SYBIL. Why should she if he cares for her? What is her name?
MAGGIE. It's--Maggie.
COMTESSE [still uninterested]. Well, I am afraid that Maggie is to do for John. [JOHN comes down.] Ah, our hero!
JOHN. Sorry I have kept you waiting. The Comtesse?
COMTESSE. And my niece Lady Sybil Tenterden. [SYBIL'S head inclines on its stem.] She is not really all my niece; I mean I am only half of her aunt. What a triumph, Mr. Shand!
JOHN. Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair. Your brother has just finished addressing the crowd, Lady Sybil.
SYBIL. Then we must not detain Mr. Shand, Auntie.
COMTESSE [who unless her heart is touched thinks insincerity charming]. Only one word. I heard you speak last night. Sublime! Just the sort of impassioned eloquence that your House of Commons loves.
JOHN. It's very good of you to say so.
COMTESSE. But we must run. Bon soir.
[SYBIL bows as to some one far away.]
JOHN. Good-night, Lady Sybil. I hear you think I'm vulgar. [Eyebrows are raised.]
COMTESSE. My dear Mr. Shand, what absurd---
JOHN. I was told she said that after hearing me speak.
COMTESSE. Quite a mistake, I---
JOHN [doggedly]. Is it not true?
SYBIL ['waking up']. You seem to know, Mr. Shand; and as you press me so unnecessarily--well, yes, that is how you struck me.
COMTESSE. My child!
SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it.
JOHN [perplexed]. What's the matter? I just wanted to know, because if it's true I must alter it.
COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion.
SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice of you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me.
JOHN. But I don't quite understand yet. Of course, it can't matter to me, Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn't be vulgar if it would be injurious to my career.
[The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.]
SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr Shand.
JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That's so, Lady Sybil, meaning no offence.
SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is most alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again?
JOHN. Certainly.
SYBIL. Then I hope you will come to see me in London as I present no terrors.
JOHN [he is a man, is JOHN]. I'll be very pleased.
SYBIL. Any afternoon about five.
JOHN. Much obliged. And you can teach me the things I don't know yet, if you'll be so kind.
SYBIL [the impediment becoming more assertive]. If you wish it, I shall do my best.
JOHN. Thank you, Lady Sybil. And who knows there may be one or two things I can teach you.
SYBIL [it has now become an angel's hiccough]. Yes, we can help one another. Good-bye till then.
JOHN. Good-bye. Maggie, the ladies are going.
[During this skirmish MAGGIE has stood apart. At the mention of her name they glance at one another. JOHN escorts SYBIL, but the COMTESSE turns back.]
COMTESSE. Are you, then, THE Maggie? [MAGGIE nods rather defiantly and the COMTESSE is distressed.] But if I had known I would not have said those things. Please forgive an old woman.
MAGGIE. It doesn't matter.
COMTESSE. I--I dare say it will be all right. Mademoiselle, if I were you I would not encourage those tete-a-tetes with Lady Sybil. I am the rude one, but she is the dangerous one; and I am afraid his impudence has attracted her. Bon voyage, Miss Maggie.
MAGGIE. Good-bye--but I CAN speak French. Je parle francais. Isn't that right?
COMTESSE. But, yes, it is excellent. [Making things easy for her] C'est tres bien.
MAGGIE. Je me suis embrouillee--la derniere fois.
COMTESSE. Good! Shall I speak more slowly?
MAGGIE. No, no. Nonon, non, faster, faster.
COMTESSE. J'admire votre courage!
MAGGIE. Je comprends chaque mot.
COMTESSE. Parfait! Bravo!
MAGGIE. Voila!
COMTESSE. Superbe!
[She goes, applauding; and MAGGIE has a moment of elation, which however has passed before JOHN returns for his hat.]
MAGGIE. Have you more speaking to do, John? [He is somehow in high good-humour.]
JOHN. I must run across and address the Cowcaddens Club. [He sprays his throat with a hand-spray.] I wonder if I AM vulgar, Maggie?
MAGGIE. You are not, but _I_ am.
JOHN. Not that _I_ can see.
MAGGIE. Look how overdressed I am, John. I knew it was too showy when I ordered it, and yet I could not resist the thing. But I will tone it down, I will. What did you think of Lady Sybil?
JOHN. That young woman had better be careful. She's a bit of a besom, Maggie.
MAGGIE. She's beautiful, John.
JOHN. She has a neat way of stretching herself. For playing with she would do as well as another.
[She looks at him wistfully.]
MAGGIE. You couldn't stay and have a talk for a few minutes?
JOHN. If you want me, Maggie. The longer you keep them waiting, the more they think of you.
MAGGIE. When are you to announce that we're to be married, John?
JOHN. I won't be long. You've waited a year more than you need have done, so I think it's your due I should hurry things now.
MAGGIE. I think it's noble of you.
JOHN. Not at all, Maggie; the nobleness has been yours in waiting so patiently. And your brothers would insist on it at any rate. They're watching me like cats with a mouse.
MAGGIE. It's so little I've done to help.
JOHN. Three hundred pounds.
MAGGIE. I'm getting a thousand per cent for it.
JOHN. And very pleased I am you should think so, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Is it terrible hard to you, John?
JOHN. It's not hard at all. I can say truthfully, Maggie, that all, or nearly all, I've seen of you in these six years has gone to increase my respect for you.
MAGGIE. Respect!
JOHN. And a bargain's a bargain.
MAGGIE. If it wasn't that you're so glorious to me, John, I would let you off.
[There is a gleam in his eye, but he puts it out.]
JOHN. In my opinion, Maggie, we'll be a very happy pair.
[She accepts this eagerly.]
MAGGIE. We know each other so well, John, don't we?
JOHN. I'm an extraordinary queer character, and I suppose nobody knows me well except myself; but I know you, Maggie, to the very roots of you.
[She magnanimously lets this remark alone.]
MAGGIE. And it's not as if there was any other woman you--fancied more, John.
JOHN. There's none whatever.
MAGGIE. If there ever should be--oh, if there ever should be! Some woman with charm.
JOHN. Maggie, you forget yourself. There couldn't be another woman once I was a married man.
MAGGIE. One has heard of such things.
JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen.
MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other respects.
JOHN. You've forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, Maggie, that he'll do nothing which might damage his career.
MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if you were to love, what a passion it would be.
JOHN. There's something in that, I suppose.
MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you to have me, too.
JOHN. We'll get on fine, Maggie.
MAGGIE. You're just making the best of it. They say that love is sympathy, and if that's so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.]
JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life untrammelled?
JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's a shame of me not to give you up.
JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did.
MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don't you bang the door in my face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.]
JOHN. A bargain's a bargain, Maggie.
[MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She flutters round him, threateningly.]
MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I'll put the lawyers on you.
JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing?
MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast.
JOHN. It does.
[She gloats miserably.]
MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I'll drag you down, John. I'll drag you down.
JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won't let you. I'm too strong.
MAGGIE. You'll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to me.
JOHN. What's that?
MAGGIE. Romance.
JOHN. Poof.
MAGGIE. All's cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have slipped in and out of heaven.
JOHN. You're exaggerating, Maggie.
MAGGIE. You've worked so hard, you've had none of the fun that comes to most men long before they're your age.
JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever having laughed in my life.
MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour.
JOHN. Not a spark.
MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me.
JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical operation to get a joke into a Scotsman's head.
MAGGIE. Yes, that's been said.
JOHN. What beats me, Maggie, is how you could insert a joke with an operation.
[He considers
MAGGIE. No, he's not married; but he will be soon.
COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours?
MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don't think much of her.
COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her.
MAGGIE. There's not much to tell. She's common, and stupid. One of those who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break down. [With sinister enjoyment] She'll be the ruin of him.
COMTESSE. But is not that sad! Figure to yourself how many men with greatness before them have been shipwrecked by marrying in the rank from which they sprang.
MAGGIE. I've told her that.
COMTESSE. But she will not give him up?
MAGGIE. No.
SYBIL. Why should she if he cares for her? What is her name?
MAGGIE. It's--Maggie.
COMTESSE [still uninterested]. Well, I am afraid that Maggie is to do for John. [JOHN comes down.] Ah, our hero!
JOHN. Sorry I have kept you waiting. The Comtesse?
COMTESSE. And my niece Lady Sybil Tenterden. [SYBIL'S head inclines on its stem.] She is not really all my niece; I mean I am only half of her aunt. What a triumph, Mr. Shand!
JOHN. Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair. Your brother has just finished addressing the crowd, Lady Sybil.
SYBIL. Then we must not detain Mr. Shand, Auntie.
COMTESSE [who unless her heart is touched thinks insincerity charming]. Only one word. I heard you speak last night. Sublime! Just the sort of impassioned eloquence that your House of Commons loves.
JOHN. It's very good of you to say so.
COMTESSE. But we must run. Bon soir.
[SYBIL bows as to some one far away.]
JOHN. Good-night, Lady Sybil. I hear you think I'm vulgar. [Eyebrows are raised.]
COMTESSE. My dear Mr. Shand, what absurd---
JOHN. I was told she said that after hearing me speak.
COMTESSE. Quite a mistake, I---
JOHN [doggedly]. Is it not true?
SYBIL ['waking up']. You seem to know, Mr. Shand; and as you press me so unnecessarily--well, yes, that is how you struck me.
COMTESSE. My child!
SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it.
JOHN [perplexed]. What's the matter? I just wanted to know, because if it's true I must alter it.
COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion.
SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice of you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me.
JOHN. But I don't quite understand yet. Of course, it can't matter to me, Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn't be vulgar if it would be injurious to my career.
[The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.]
SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr Shand.
JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That's so, Lady Sybil, meaning no offence.
SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is most alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again?
JOHN. Certainly.
SYBIL. Then I hope you will come to see me in London as I present no terrors.
JOHN [he is a man, is JOHN]. I'll be very pleased.
SYBIL. Any afternoon about five.
JOHN. Much obliged. And you can teach me the things I don't know yet, if you'll be so kind.
SYBIL [the impediment becoming more assertive]. If you wish it, I shall do my best.
JOHN. Thank you, Lady Sybil. And who knows there may be one or two things I can teach you.
SYBIL [it has now become an angel's hiccough]. Yes, we can help one another. Good-bye till then.
JOHN. Good-bye. Maggie, the ladies are going.
[During this skirmish MAGGIE has stood apart. At the mention of her name they glance at one another. JOHN escorts SYBIL, but the COMTESSE turns back.]
COMTESSE. Are you, then, THE Maggie? [MAGGIE nods rather defiantly and the COMTESSE is distressed.] But if I had known I would not have said those things. Please forgive an old woman.
MAGGIE. It doesn't matter.
COMTESSE. I--I dare say it will be all right. Mademoiselle, if I were you I would not encourage those tete-a-tetes with Lady Sybil. I am the rude one, but she is the dangerous one; and I am afraid his impudence has attracted her. Bon voyage, Miss Maggie.
MAGGIE. Good-bye--but I CAN speak French. Je parle francais. Isn't that right?
COMTESSE. But, yes, it is excellent. [Making things easy for her] C'est tres bien.
MAGGIE. Je me suis embrouillee--la derniere fois.
COMTESSE. Good! Shall I speak more slowly?
MAGGIE. No, no. Nonon, non, faster, faster.
COMTESSE. J'admire votre courage!
MAGGIE. Je comprends chaque mot.
COMTESSE. Parfait! Bravo!
MAGGIE. Voila!
COMTESSE. Superbe!
[She goes, applauding; and MAGGIE has a moment of elation, which however has passed before JOHN returns for his hat.]
MAGGIE. Have you more speaking to do, John? [He is somehow in high good-humour.]
JOHN. I must run across and address the Cowcaddens Club. [He sprays his throat with a hand-spray.] I wonder if I AM vulgar, Maggie?
MAGGIE. You are not, but _I_ am.
JOHN. Not that _I_ can see.
MAGGIE. Look how overdressed I am, John. I knew it was too showy when I ordered it, and yet I could not resist the thing. But I will tone it down, I will. What did you think of Lady Sybil?
JOHN. That young woman had better be careful. She's a bit of a besom, Maggie.
MAGGIE. She's beautiful, John.
JOHN. She has a neat way of stretching herself. For playing with she would do as well as another.
[She looks at him wistfully.]
MAGGIE. You couldn't stay and have a talk for a few minutes?
JOHN. If you want me, Maggie. The longer you keep them waiting, the more they think of you.
MAGGIE. When are you to announce that we're to be married, John?
JOHN. I won't be long. You've waited a year more than you need have done, so I think it's your due I should hurry things now.
MAGGIE. I think it's noble of you.
JOHN. Not at all, Maggie; the nobleness has been yours in waiting so patiently. And your brothers would insist on it at any rate. They're watching me like cats with a mouse.
MAGGIE. It's so little I've done to help.
JOHN. Three hundred pounds.
MAGGIE. I'm getting a thousand per cent for it.
JOHN. And very pleased I am you should think so, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Is it terrible hard to you, John?
JOHN. It's not hard at all. I can say truthfully, Maggie, that all, or nearly all, I've seen of you in these six years has gone to increase my respect for you.
MAGGIE. Respect!
JOHN. And a bargain's a bargain.
MAGGIE. If it wasn't that you're so glorious to me, John, I would let you off.
[There is a gleam in his eye, but he puts it out.]
JOHN. In my opinion, Maggie, we'll be a very happy pair.
[She accepts this eagerly.]
MAGGIE. We know each other so well, John, don't we?
JOHN. I'm an extraordinary queer character, and I suppose nobody knows me well except myself; but I know you, Maggie, to the very roots of you.
[She magnanimously lets this remark alone.]
MAGGIE. And it's not as if there was any other woman you--fancied more, John.
JOHN. There's none whatever.
MAGGIE. If there ever should be--oh, if there ever should be! Some woman with charm.
JOHN. Maggie, you forget yourself. There couldn't be another woman once I was a married man.
MAGGIE. One has heard of such things.
JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen.
MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other respects.
JOHN. You've forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, Maggie, that he'll do nothing which might damage his career.
MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if you were to love, what a passion it would be.
JOHN. There's something in that, I suppose.
MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you to have me, too.
JOHN. We'll get on fine, Maggie.
MAGGIE. You're just making the best of it. They say that love is sympathy, and if that's so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.]
JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life untrammelled?
JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's a shame of me not to give you up.
JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did.
MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don't you bang the door in my face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.]
JOHN. A bargain's a bargain, Maggie.
[MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She flutters round him, threateningly.]
MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I'll put the lawyers on you.
JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing?
MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast.
JOHN. It does.
[She gloats miserably.]
MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I'll drag you down, John. I'll drag you down.
JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won't let you. I'm too strong.
MAGGIE. You'll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to me.
JOHN. What's that?
MAGGIE. Romance.
JOHN. Poof.
MAGGIE. All's cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have slipped in and out of heaven.
JOHN. You're exaggerating, Maggie.
MAGGIE. You've worked so hard, you've had none of the fun that comes to most men long before they're your age.
JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever having laughed in my life.
MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour.
JOHN. Not a spark.
MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me.
JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical operation to get a joke into a Scotsman's head.
MAGGIE. Yes, that's been said.
JOHN. What beats me, Maggie, is how you could insert a joke with an operation.
[He considers
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