The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс БарриЧитать онлайн книгу.
Since ‘85 — or there about.
They dragged me here,
By brute force sheer,
But this doth chiefly jar.
Your page, I find,
We left behind
Smoking my big cigar.
And therefore I
Your school defy,
Oh, I do not stand in awe of you;
For spoilt have they
My Henry Clay,
And I mean to have the law of you.
Exit JACK.
Re-enter GIRLS.
PROCTOR. No I am trepanned and done brown.
PRESS STUDENTS. We hear you, and we’ve got it down.
Enter MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE.
MISS SIMS (to JANE ANNIE). We owe all too you, it appears! So what can I do?
GIRLS. Box her ears!
JANE ANNIE. To be good I try hard,
GIRLS. Ain’t she meek?
JANE ANNIE. And I ask no reward,
GIRLS. Oh, the sneak!
JANE ANNIE. Yet if I should take
Something nice,
They may learn to forsake
Ways of vice.
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Forsake!” “Ways of vice!”
JANE ANNIE. Now the good-conduct prize,
GIRLS. Oh, how mean!
JANE ANNIE. Seems good to my eyes,
GIRLS. Which are green!
JANE ANNIE. So if you agree
That I’m right,
Why not give it me
Well — tonight?
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Agree” “To tonight.”
MISS SIMS. Dear pupils, see, to my bosom I fold her,
The prize shall be hers ere she’s five minutes older.
Exeunt MISS SIMS, PROCTOR, BULLDOGS, and CADDIE.
JANE ANNIE. The girl who’s good, demure, correct,
Cannot preserve her self-respect,
And mine I would regain.
So having got the prize tonight,
Tomorrow I, with all my might,
Will be an imp again!
Girls, I am naughty from this hour,
And six long months of wickedness,
By virtue of my magic power,
Into one day I will compress!
ALL. Jane Annie’s naughty from this hour,
But oh! what is this magic power?
CADDIE sends PRESS STUDENTS away.
SONG. — JANE ANNIE.
When I was a little piccaninny,
Only about so high,
I’d a baby’s bib and a baby’s pinny
And a queer little gimlet eye.
They couldn’t tell why that tiny eye
Would make them writhe and twist,
They found it so, but how could they know
That the babe was a hypnotist?
ALL. Now think of that! this tiny brat
Was a bit of a hypnotist!
JANE ANNIE. And as I grew my power grew too,
For we were one, you see,
And what I willed the folk would do
At a wave or a glance from me.
I could “suggest” what pleased me best,
And still can, when I list,
And Madam Card will find it hard
To beat this hypnotist!
ALL. Oh, think of it! This little chit
Is a mighty mesmerist!
DANCE.
Enter MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, PRESS STUDENTS, and CADDIE in procession. PAGE bearing prize. GIRLS become demure.
MISS SIMS. To Jane Annie this prize I present,
And in it I’ve writ this inscription —
“Awarded a hundred per cent.
For goodness of every description.”
(Presents prize.)
MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, and PAGE.
Hail, oh hail to the modest maiden!
Hail, oh hail to the downcast eyes!
Now with all our plaudits laden,
See, she takes the well-earned prize.
Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
GIRLS. Hail, oh hail to the scheming maiden,
Hail, oh hail to the roguish eye!
Now she stands with honours laden,
They will know her by-and-bye.
Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
ENSEMBLE.
MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, etc. Hail, oh hail to her we honour! Hail, oh hail to the blushing cheek! Place the laurel wreath upon her, See her crowned, and good, and meek! Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
GIRLS.
Hail, oh hail to her they honour!
Hail to her unblushing cheek!
Place the laurel wreath upon her,
See her trying to look meek.
Hail, Jane Annie, hail!
CURTAIN.
Act II.
SCENE. — Golf green near the school. River at back. BAB, a prisoner, is walking up and down in CADDIE’s charge.
SONG. — CADDIE.
A pageboy am I
That young ladies decry,
Yes, yes, dears, you do, for I hear yer;
But it’s little you know
The volcanoes that glow
Inside of this little exterior.
Oh, you wouldn’t deride,
Could you step inside
Of this here pocket edition,
And, striking a light,
Perceive that this mite
Is on fire with a grand ambition.
BAB. But at present the buttons he’s wearing,
And he’s taking me out for an airing.
(Walks up and down.)
CADDIE. My wife I shall choose
From the class called the Blues,
Whose theory is that they hates men,
Of birthplaces