Роберт Стивенсон - The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson

Jean. Whaten kind of a word’ll that be?

Smith. Mum it is, Jean!

Hunt. When you’ve done dancing, George! ( To Jean.) It ain’t a pretty expression, my dear, I own it. ‘Will you blow the gaff?’ is perhaps more tenderer.

Jean. I think ye’ve a real strange way o’ expressin yoursel’.

Hunt ( to Jean). I can’t waste time on you, my girl. It’s now or never. Will you turn king’s evidence?

Jean. I think ye’ll have made a mistake, like.

Hunt. Well, I’m..! ( Separating them .) [No, not yet; don’t push me.] George’s turn now. ( To George.) George, I’ve a warrant in my pocket.

Smith. As per usual, Jerry?

Hunt. Now I want king’s evidence.

Smith. Ah! so you came a cropper with her , Jerry. Pride had a fall.

Hunt. A free pardon and fifty shiners down.

Smith. A free pardon, Jerry?

Hunt. Don’t I tell you so?

Smith. And fifty down? fifty?

Hunt. On the nail.

Smith. So you came a cropper with her, and then you tried it on with me?

Hunt. I suppose you mean you’re a born idiot?

Smith. What I mean is, Jerry, that you’ve broke my heart. I used to look up to you like a party might to Julius Cæsar. One more of boyhood’s dreams gone pop. ( Enter Moore, L. )

Hunt ( to both ). Come, then, I’ll take the pair, and be damned to you. Free pardon to both, fifty down and the Deacon out of the way. I don’t care for you commoners, it’s the Deacon I want.

Jean ( looking off stolidly ). I think the kirks are scalin’. There seems to be mair people in the streets.

Hunt. O that’s the way, is it? Do you know that I can hang you, my woman, and your fancy man a well?

Jean. I daur say ye would like fine, Mr. Hunt; and here’s my service to you. ( Going .)

Hunt. George, don’t you be a tomfool, anyway. Think of the blowen here, and have brains for two.

Smith ( going ). Ah, Jerry, if you knew anything, how different you would talk! ( They go together , R. )

Hunt. Half a tick, Badger. You’re a man of parts, you are; you’re solid, you’re a true-born Englishman; you ain’t a Jerry-go-Nimble like him. Do you know what your pal the Deacon’s worth to you? Fifty golden Georges and a free pardon. No questions asked, and no receipts demanded. What do you say? Is it a deal?

Moore ( as to himself ). Muck. ( He goes out , R. )

Hunt ( looking after them ruefully ). And these were the very parties I was looking for! [Ah, Jerry, Jerry, if they knew this at the office!] Well, the market price of that ’ere two hundred is a trifle on the decline and fall. ( Looking L.

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