George Bernard Shaw - Pygmalion and Three Other Plays

MRS DUBEDAT Oh, how can you, Louis?

LOUIS [insisting childishly] Yes, because people who have found marriage happy always marry again. Ah, I shant be jealous. [Slyly] But dont talk to the other fellow too much about me: he wont like it. [Almost chuckling] I shall be your lover all the time; but it will be a secret from him, poor devil!

SIR PATRICK Come! youve talked enough. Try to rest awhile.

LOUIS [wearily] Yes: I’m fearfully tired; but I shall have a long rest presently. I have something to say to you fellows. Youre all there, arnt you? I’m too weak to see anything but Jennifer’s bosom. That promises rest.

RIDGEON We are all here.

LOUIS [startled] That voice sounded devilish. Take care, Ridgeon: my ears hear things that other people’s ears cant. Ive been thinking — thinking. I’m cleverer than you imagine.

SIR PATRICK [whispering to RIDGEON] Youve got on his nerves, Colly. Slip out quietly.

RIDGEON [apart to SIR PATRICK] Would you deprive the dying actor of his audience?

LOUIS [his face lighting up faintly with mischievous glee] I heard that, Ridgeon. That was good. Jennifer, dear: be kind to Ridgeon always; because he was the last man who amused me.

RIDGEON [relentless] Was I?

LOUIS But it’s not true. It’s you who are still on the stage. I’m half way home already.

MRS DUBEDAT [to RIDGEON] What did you say?

LOUIS [answering for him] Nothing, dear. Only one of those little secrets that men keep among themselves. Well, all you chaps have thought pretty hard things of me, and said them.

B. B. [quite overcome] No, no, Dubedat. Not at all.

LOUIS Yes, you have. I know what you all think of me. Dont imagine I’m sore about it. I forgive you.

WALPOLE [involuntarily] Well, damn me! [Ashamed] I beg your pardon.

LOUIS That was old Walpole, I know. Dont grieve, Walpole. I’m perfectly happy. I’m not in pain. I dont want to live. Ive escaped from myself. I’m in heaven, immortal in the heart of my beautiful Jennifer. I’m not afraid, and not ashamed. [Reflectively, puzzling it out for himself weakly] I know that in an accidental sort of way, struggling through the unreal part of life, I havnt always been able to live up to my ideal. But in my own real world I have never done anything wrong, never denied my faith, never been untrue to myself. Ive been threatened and blackmailed and insulted and starved. But Ive played the game. Ive fought the good fight. And now it’s all over, theres an indescribable peace. [He feebly folds his hands and utters his creed]. I believe in Michael Angelo, Velasquez, and Rembrandt; in the might of design, the mystery of color, the redemption of all things by Beauty everlasting, and the message of Art that has made these hands blessed. Amen. Amen. {43} 43 9 (p. 341) “I believe in Michael Angelo, Velasquez, and Rembrandt; ... Amen”: Shaw indicated that Louis’s prayer derives from a story by German composer and writer Richard Wagner, “An End in Paris” (1841), in which the composer-protagonist professes a similar creed, but with “God, Mozart, and Beethoven” where Louis has his trinity of great artists. [He closes his eyes and lies still].

MRS DUBEDAT [breathless] Louis: are you — WALPOLE rises and comes quickly to see whether he is dead.

LOUIS Not yet, dear. Very nearly, but not yet. I should like to rest my head on your bosom; only it would tire you.

MRS DUBEDAT No, no, no, darling: how could you tire me? [She lifts him so that he lies on her bosom].

LOUIS Thats good. Thats real.

MRS DUBEDAT Dont spare me, dear. Indeed, indeed you will not tire me. Lean on me with all your weight.

LOUIS [with a sudden half return of his normal strength and comfort] Jinny Gwinny: I think I shall recover after all. [SIR PATRICK looks significantly at RIDGEON, mutely warning him that this is the end].

MRS DUBEDAT [hopefully] Yes, yes: you shall.

LOUIS Because I suddenly want to sleep. Just an ordinary sleep.

MRS DUBEDAT [rocking him] Yes, dear. Sleep. [He seems to go to sleep. WALPOLE makes another movement. She protests]. Sh-sh: please dont disturb him. [His lips move]. What did you say, dear? [In great distress] I cant listen without moving him. [His lips move again: WALPOLE bends down and listens].

WALPOLE He wants to know is the newspaper man here.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN [excited;for he has been enjoying himself enormously] Yes, Mr Dubedat. Here I am.

WALPOLE raises his hand warningly to silence him. SIR RALPH sits down quietly on the sofa and frankly buries his face in his handkerchief.

MRS DUBEDAT [with great relief] Oh thats right, dear: dont spare me: lean with all your weight on me. Now you are really resting.

SIR PATRICK quickly comes forward and feels LOUIS’s pulse; then takes him by the shoulders.

SIR PATRICK Let me put him back on the pillow, maam. He will be better so.

MRS DUBEDAT [piteously] Oh no, please, please, doctor. He is not tiring me; and he will be so hurt when he wakes if he finds I have put him away.

SIR PATRICK He will never wake again. [He takes the body from her and replaces it in the chair. RIDGEON, unmoved, lets down the back and makes a bier of it].

MRS DUBEDAT [who has unexpectedly sprung to her feet, and stands dry-eyed and stately] Was that death?

WALPOLE Yes.

MRS DUBEDAT [with complete dignity] Will you wait for me a moment? I will come back. [She goes out].

WALPOLE Ought we to follow her? Is she in her right senses?

SIR PATRICK [with quiet conviction] Yes. She’s all right. Leave her alone. She’ll come back.

RIDGEON [callously] Let us get this thing out of the way before she comes.

B. B. [rising, shocked] My dear Colly! The poor lad! He died splendidly.

SIR PATRICK Aye! that is how the wicked die.

For there are no bands in their death;

But their strength is firm:

They are not in trouble as other men. [168] Quotation from the Bible, Psalm 73:4-5 (KJV).

No matter: it’s not for us to judge. He’s in another world now.

WALPOLE Borrowing his first five-pound note there, probably.

RIDGEON I said the other day that the most tragic thing in the world is a sick doctor. I was wrong. The most tragic thing in the world is a man of genius who is not also a man of honor.

RIDGEON and WALPOLE wheel the chair into the recess.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN [to SIR RALPH ] I thought it shewed a very nice feeling, his being so particular about his wife going into proper mourning for him and making her promise never to marry again.

B. B. [impressively] Mrs Dubedat is not in a position to carry the interview any further. Neither are we.

SIR PATRICK Good afternoon to you.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN Mrs Dubedat said she was coming back.

B. B. After you have gone.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN Do you think she would give me a few words on How It Feels to be a Widow? Rather a good title for an article, isnt it?

B. B. Young man: if you wait until Mrs Dubedat comes back, you will be able to write an article on How It Feels to be Turned Out of the House.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN [unconvinced] You think she’d rather not —

B. B. [cutting him short] Good day to you. [Giving him a visiting-card] Mind you get my name correctly. Good day.

THE NEWSPAPER MAN Good day. Thank you. [ Vaguely trying to read the card] Mr —

B. B. No, not Mister. This is your hat, I think [giving it to him]. Gloves? No, of course: no gloves. Good day to you. [He edges him out at last; shuts the door on him; and returns to SIR PATRICK as RIDGEON and WALPOLE come back from the recess, WALPOLE crossing the room to the hat-stand, and Ridgeon coming between SIR RALPH and SIR PATRICK]. Poor fellow! Poor young fellow! How well he died! I feel a better man, really.