ARIA DA CAPO
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
Copyright, 1920
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
Printed in the U. S. A.
PERSONS
Pierrot
Columbine
Cothurnus, Masque of Tragedy
Thyrsis -\
Shepherds
Corydon -/
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon!
PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! . . . Is it Tuesday,
Columbine?— I’ll kiss you if it’s Tuesday.
COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know . . . . Is this my artichoke,
Or yours?
PIERROT: Ah, Columbine,—as if it mattered! Wednesday . . . . Will it
be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance?
COLUMBINE: To-morrow will be—Pierrot, That isn’t funny!
PIERROT: I thought it rather nice. Well, let us drink some wine and lose
our heads And love each other.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, don’t you love Me now?
PIERROT: La, what a woman!—how should I know? Pour me some wine:
I’ll tell you presently.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much.
PIERROT: Yes, I dare say I do. . . . Or else too little. It’s hard to
tell. You see, I am always wanting A little more than what I have,—or
else A little less. There’s something wrong. My dear, How many fingers
have you?
COLUMBINE: La, indeed, How should I know?—It always takes me one
hand To count the other with. It’s too confusing. Why?
PIERROT: Why?—I am a student, Columbine; And search into all
matters.
COLUMBINE: La, indeed?— Count them yourself, then!
PIERROT: No. Or, rather, nay. ‘Tis of no consequence. . . . I am become A
painter, suddenly,—and you impress me— Ah, yes!—six
orange bull’s-eyes, four green pin-wheels, And one magenta jelly-roll,—the
title As follows: Woman Taking in Cheese from Fire-Escape.
COLUMBINE: Well, I like that! So that is all I’ve meant To you!
PIERROT: Hush! All at once I am become A pianist. I will image you in
sound. . . . On a new scale. . . , Without tonality. . . Vivace senza
tempo senza tutto. . . . Title: Uptown Express at Six O’Clock. Pour me a
drink.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, you work too hard. You need a rest. Come on out into
the garden, And sing me something sad.
PIERROT: Don’t stand so near me! I am become a socialist. I love Humanity;
but I hate people. Columbine, Put on your mittens, child; your hands are
cold.
COLUMBINE: My hands are not cold!
PIERROT: Oh, I am sure they are. And you must have a shawl to wrap about
you, And sit by the fire.
COLUMBINE: Why, I’ll do no such thing! I’m hot as a spoon in a teacup!
PIERROT: Columbine, I’m a philanthropist. I know I am, Because I feel so
restless. Do not scream, Or it will be the worse for you!
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, My vinaigrette! I cannot live without My
vinaigrette!
PIERROT: My only love, you are So fundamental! . . . How would you
like to be An actress, Columbine?—I am become Your manager.
COLUMBINE: Why, Pierrot, I can’t act.
PIERROT: Can’t act! Can’t act! La, listen to the woman! What’s that to do
with the price of furs?—You’re blonde, Are you not?—you have
no education, have you?— Can’t act! You underrate yourself, my dear!
COLUMBINE: Yes, I suppose I do.
PIERROT: As for the rest, I’ll teach you how to cry, and how to die, And
other little tricks; and the house will love you. You’ll be a star by five
o’clock . . . that is, If you will let me pay for your apartment.
COLUMBINE: Let you?—well, that’s a good one! Ha! Ha! Ha! But
why?
PIERROT: But why?—well, as to that, my dear, I cannot say. It’s just
a matter of form.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, I’m getting tired of caviar And peacocks’ livers.
Isn’t there something else That people eat?—some humble vegetable,
That grows in the ground?
PIERROT: Well, there are mushrooms.
COLUMBINE: Mushrooms! That’s so! I had forgotten . . . mushrooms . . .
mushrooms. . . . I cannot live with . . . How do you like this
gown?
PIERROT: Not much. I’m tired of gowns that have the waist-line About the
waist, and the hem around the bottom,— And women with their breasts
in front of them!— Zut and ehe! Where does one go from here!
COLUMBINE: Here’s a persimmon, love. You always liked them.
PIERROT: I am become a critic; there is nothing I can enjoy. . . .
However, set it aside; I’ll eat it between meals.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, do you know, Sometimes I think you’re making fun of
me.
PIERROT: My love, by yon black moon, you wrong us both.
COLUMBINE: There isn’t a sign of a moon, Pierrot.
PIERROT: Of course not. There never was. “Moon’s” just a word to swear by.
“Mutton!”—now there’s a thing you can lay the hands on, And
set the tooth in! Listen, Columbine: I always lied about the moon and you.
Food is my only lust.
COLUMBINE: Well, eat it, then, For Heaven’s sake, and stop your silly
noise! I haven’t heard the clock tick for an hour.
PIERROT: It’s ticking all the same. If you were a fly, You would be dead
by now. And if I were a parrot, I could be talking for a thousand years!
PIERROT: Hello, what’s this, for God’s sake?— What’s the matter?
Say, whadda you mean?—get off the stage, my friend, And pinch
yourself,—you’re walking in your sleep!
COTHURNUS: I never sleep.
PIERROT: Well, anyhow, clear out. You don’t belong on here. Wait for your
own scene! Whadda you think this is,—a dress-rehearsal?
COTHURNUS: Sir, I am tired of waiting. I will wait No longer.
PIERROT: Well, but whadda you going to do? The scene is set for me!
COTHURNUS: True, sir; yet I Can play the scene.
PIERROT: Your scene is down for later!
COTHURNUS: That, too, is true, sir; but I play it now.
PIERROT: Oh, very well!—Anyway, I am tired Of black and white. At
least, I think I am.
Yes, I am sure I am. I know what I’ll do!— I’ll go and strum the
moon, that’s what I’ll do. . . . Unless, perhaps . . . you never can tell
. . . I may be, You know, tired of the moon. Well, anyway, I’ll go find
Columbine. . . . And when I find her, I will address her thus: “Ehe,
Pierrette!”— There’s something in that.
COTHURNUS: You, Thyrsis! Corydon! Where are you?
THYRSIS: [Off stage.] Sir, we are in our dressing-room!
COTHURNUS: Come out and do the scene.
CORYDON: [Off stage.] You are mocking us!— The scene is down for
later.
COTHURNUS: That is true; But we will play it now. I am the scene. [Seats
himself on high place in back of stage.]
CORYDON: Sir, we are counting on this little hour. We said, “Here is an
hour,—in which to think A mighty thought, and sing a trifling song,
And look at nothing.”—And, behold! the hour, Even as we spoke, was
over, and the act begun, Under our feet!
THYRSIS: Sir, we are not in the fancy To play the play. We had thought to
play it later.
CORYDON: Besides, this is the setting for a farce. Our scene requires a
wall; we cannot build A wall of tissue-paper!
THYRSIS: We cannot act A tragedy with comic properties!
COTHURNUS: Try it and see. I think you’ll find you can. One wall is like
another. And regarding The matter of your insufficient mood, The important
thing is that you speak the lines, And make the gestures. Wherefore I
shall remain Throughout, and hold the prompt-book. Are you ready?
CORYDON-THYRSIS: [Sorrowfully.] Sir, we are always ready.
COTHURNUS: Play the play!
THYRSIS: How gently in the silence, Corydon, Our sheep go up the bank.
They crop a grass That’s yellow where the sun is out, and black Where the
clouds drag their shadows. Have you noticed How steadily, yet with what a
slanting eye They graze?
CORYDON: As if they thought of other things. What say you, Thyrsis, do
they only question Where next to pull?—Or do their far minds draw
them Thus vaguely north of west and south of east?
THYRSIS: One cannot say. . . . The black lamb wears its burdocks As if
they were a garland,—have you noticed? Purple and white—and
drinks the bitten grass As if it were a wine.
CORYDON: I’ve noticed that. What say you, Thyrsis, shall we make a song
About a lamb that thought himself a shepherd?
THYRSIS: Why, yes!—that is, why,—no. (I have forgotten my
line.)
COTHURNUS: [Prompting.] “I know a game worth two of that!”
THYRSIS: Oh, yes. . . . I know a game worth two of that! Let’s gather
rocks, and build a wall between us; And say that over there belongs to me,
And over here to you!
CORYDON: Why,—very well. And say you may not come upon my side
Unless I say you may!
THYRSIS: Nor you on mine! And if you should, ‘twould be the worse for you!
CORYDON: Now there’s a wall a man may see across, But not attempt to
scale.
THYRSIS: An excellent wall.
CORYDON: Come, let us separate, and sit alone A little while, and lay a
plot whereby We may outdo each other. [They seat themselves on opposite
sides of the wall.]
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Ehe, Pierrette!
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] My name is Columbine! Leave me alone!
THYRSIS: [Coming up to the wall.] Corydon, after all, and in spite of the
fact I started it myself, I do not like this So very much. What is the
sense of saying I do not want you on my side the wall? It is a silly game.
I’d much prefer Making the little song you spoke of making, About the
lamb, you know, that thought himself A shepherd!—what do you say?
[Pause.]
CORYDON: [At wall.] (I have forgotten the line.)
COTHURNUS: [Prompting.] “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
CORYDON: Oh, yes. . . . How do I know this isn’t a trick To get upon my
land?
THYRSIS: Oh, Corydon, You know it’s not a trick. I do not like The
game, that’s all. Come over here, or let me Come over there.
CORYDON: It is a clever trick To get upon my land. [Seats himself as
before.]
THYRSIS: Oh, very well! [Seats himself as before.] [To himself.] I think I
never knew a sillier game.
CORYDON: [Coming to wall.] Oh, Thyrsis, just a minute!—all the water
Is on your side the wall, and the sheep are thirsty. I hadn’t thought of
that.
THYRSIS: Oh, hadn’t you?
CORYDON: Why, what do you mean?
THYRSIS: What do I mean?—I mean That I can play a game as well as
you can. And if the pool is on my side, it’s on My side, that’s all.
CORYDON: You mean you’d let the sheep Go thirsty?
THYRSIS: Well, they’re not my sheep. My sheep Have water enough.
CORYDON: Your sheep! You are mad, to call them Yours—mine—they
are all one flock! Thyrsis, you can’t mean To keep the water from them,
just because They happened to be grazing over here Instead of over there,
when we set the wall up?
THYRSIS: Oh, can’t I?—wait and see!—and if you try To lead
them over here, you’ll wish you hadn’t!
CORYDON: I wonder how it happens all the water Is on your side. . . . I’ll
say you had an eye out For lots of little things, my innocent friend, When
I said, “Let us make a song,” and you said, “I know a game worth two of
that!”
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] Pierrot, D’you know, I think you must be getting
old, Or fat, or something,—stupid, anyway!— Can’t you put on
some other kind of collar?
THYRSIS: You know as well as I do, Corydon, I never thought anything of
the kind. Don’t you?
CORYDON: I do not.
THYRSIS: Don’t you?
CORYDON: Oh, I suppose so. Thyrsis, let’s drop this,—what do you
say?—it’s only A game, you know . . . we seem to be forgetting It’s
only a game … a pretty serious game It’s getting to be, when one of us
is willing To let the sheep go thirsty for the sake of it.
THYRSIS: I know it, Corydon.
COTHURNUS: [Prompting.] “But how do I know—”
THYRSIS: Oh, yes. . . . But how do I know this isn’t a trick To water your
sheep, and get the laugh on me?
CORYDON: You can’t know, that’s the difficult thing about it, Of course,—you
can’t be sure. You have to take My word for it. And I know just how you
feel. But one of us has to take a risk, or else, Why, don’t you see?—the
game goes on forever! . . . It’s terrible, when you stop to think of it. .
. . Oh, Thyrsis, now for the first time I feel This wall is actually a
wall, a thing Come up between us, shutting you away From me. . . . I do
not know you any more!
THYRSIS: No, don’t say that! Oh, Corydon, I’m willing To drop it all, if
you will! Come on over And water your sheep! It is an ugly game. I hated
it from the first. . . . How did it start?
CORYDON: I do not know . . . I do not know . . . I think I am afraid of
you!—you are a stranger! I never set eyes on you before! “Come over
And water my sheep,” indeed!—They’ll be more thirsty Than they are
now before I bring them over Into your land, and have you mixing them up
With yours, and calling them yours, and trying to keep them!
COLUMBINE: [To COTHURNUS.] Glummy, I want my hat.
THYRSIS: Take it, and go.
COLUMBINE: Take it and go, indeed. Is it my hat, Or isn’t it? Is this my
scene, or not? Take it and go! Really, you know, you two Are awfully
funny!
THYRSIS: Corydon, my friend, I’m going to leave you now, and whittle me A
pipe, or sing a song, or go to sleep. When you have come to your senses,
let me know. [Goes back to where he has been sitting, lies down and
sleeps.]
CORYDON: Why, what is this?—Red stones—and purple stones—
And stones stuck full of gold!—The ground is full Of gold and
colored stones! . . . I’m glad the wall Was up before I found them!—Otherwise,
I should have had to share them. As it is, They all belong to me. . . .
Unless—
None here— None here—none here—They all belong to me!
[Sits.]
THYRSIS: [Awakening.] How curious! I thought the little black lamb Came up
and licked my hair; I saw the wool About its neck as plain as anything! It
must have been a dream. The little black lamb Is on the other side of the
wall, I’m sure.
Hello, what’s that you’ve got there, Corydon?
CORYDON: Jewels.
THYRSIS: Jewels?—And where did you ever get them?
CORYDON: Oh, over here.
THYRSIS: You mean to say you found them, By digging around in the ground
for them?
CORYDON: [Unpleasantly.] No, Thyrsis, By digging down for water for my
sheep.
THYRSIS: Corydon, come to the wall a minute, will you? I want to talk to
you.
CORYDON: I haven’t time. I’m making me a necklace of red stones.
THYRSIS: I’ll give you all the water that you want, For one of those red
stones,—if it’s a good one.
CORYDON: Water?—what for?—what do I want of water?
THYRSIS: Why, for your sheep!
CORYDON: My sheep?—I’m not a shepherd!
THYRSIS: Your sheep are dying of thirst.
CORYDON: Man, haven’t I told you I can’t be bothered with a few untidy
Brown sheep all full of burdocks?—I’m a merchant. That’s what I am!—And
if I set my mind to it I dare say I could be an emperor! [To himself.]
Wouldn’t I be a fool to spend my time Watching a flock of sheep go up a
hill, When I have these to play with?—when I have these To think
about?—I can’t make up my mind Whether to buy a city, and have a
thousand Beautiful girls to bathe me, and be happy Until I die, or build a
bridge, and name it The Bridge of Corydon,—and be remembered After
I’m dead.
THYRSIS: Corydon, come to the wall, Won’t you?—I want to tell you
something.
CORYDON: Hush! Be off! Be off! Go finish your nap, I tell you!
THYRSIS: Corydon, listen: if you don’t want your sheep, Give them to me.
CORYDON: Be off! Go finish your nap. A red one—and a blue one—and
a red one— And a purple one—give you my sheep, did you say?—
Come, come! What do you take me for, a fool? I’ve a lot of thinking to do,—and
while I’m thinking, The sheep might just as well be over here As over
there. . . . A blue one—and a red one—
THYRSIS: But they will die!
CORYDON: And a green one—and a couple Of white ones, for a change.
THYRSIS: Maybe I have Some jewels on my side.
CORYDON: And another green one— Maybe, but I don’t think so. You
see, this rock Isn’t so very wide. It stops before It gets to the wall. It
seems to go quite deep, However.
THYRSIS: [With hatred.] I see.
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] Look, Pierrot, there’s the moon.
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Nonsense!
THYRSIS: I see.
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] Sing me an old song, Pierrot,— Something I
can remember.
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Columbine. Your mind is made of crumbs,—like
an escallop Of oysters,—first a layer of crumbs, and then An oystery
taste, and then a layer of crumbs.
THYRSIS: [Searching.] I find no jewels . . . but I wonder what The root of
this black weed would do to a man If he should taste it. … I have seen a
sheep die, With half the stalk still drooling from its mouth. ‘Twould be a
speedy remedy, I should think, For a festered pride and a feverish
ambition. It has a curious root. I think I’ll hack it In little pieces. .
. . First I’ll get me a drink; And then I’ll hack that root in little
pieces As small as dust, and see what the color is Inside. [Goes to bowl
on floor.]
The pool is very clear. I see A shepherd standing on the brink, with a red
cloak About him, and a black weed in his hand. . . . ‘Tis I. [Kneels and
drinks.]
CORYDON: [Coming to wall.] Hello, what are you doing, Thyrsis?
THYRSIS: Digging for gold.
CORYDON: I’ll give you all the gold You want, if you’ll give me a bowl of
water. If you don’t want too much, that is to say.
THYRSIS: Ho, so you’ve changed your mind?—It’s different, Isn’t it,
when you want a drink yourself?
CORYDON: Of course it is.
THYRSIS: Well, let me see … a bowl Of water,—come back in an hour,
Corydon. I’m busy now.
CORYDON: Oh, Thyrsis, give me a bowl Of water!—and I’ll fill the
bowl with jewels, And bring it back!
THYRSIS: Be off, I’m busy now.
[He catches sight of the weed, picks it up and looks at it, unseen by
CORYDON.]
Wait!—Pick me out the finest stones you have . . . I’ll bring you a
drink of water presently.
CORYDON: [Goes back and sits down, with the jewels before him.] A bowl of
jewels is a lot of jewels.
THYRSIS: [Chopping up the weed.] I wonder if it has a bitter taste.
CORYDON: There’s sure to be a stone or two among them I have grown fond
of, pouring them from one hand Into the other.
THYRSIS: I hope it doesn’t taste Too bitter, just at first.
CORYDON: A bowl of jewels Is far too many jewels to give away And not get
back again.
THYRSIS: I don’t believe He’ll notice. He’s too thirsty. He’ll gulp it
down And never notice.
CORYDON: There ought to be some way To get them back again. . . . I could
give him a necklace, And snatch it back, after I’d drunk the water, I
suppose. . . . Why, as for that, of course a necklace. . . .
THYRSIS: Come, get your bowl of water, Corydon.
CORYDON: Ah, very good!—and for such a gift as that I’ll give you
more than a bowl of unset stones. I’ll give you three long necklaces, my
friend. Come closer. Here they are. [Puts the ribbons about THYRSIS’
neck.]
THYRSIS: [Putting bowl to CORYDON’S mouth.] I’ll hold the bowl Until
you’ve drunk it all.
CORYDON: Then hold it steady. For every drop you spill I’ll have a stone
back Out of this chain.
THYRSIS: I shall not spill a drop.
THYRSIS: Don’t pull the string so tight.
CORYDON: You’re spilling the water.
THYRSIS: You’ve had enough—you’ve had enough—stop pulling The
string so tight!
CORYDON: Why, that’s not tight at all … How’s this?
THYRSIS: [Drops bowl.] You’re strangling me! Oh, Corydon! It’s only a
game!—and you are strangling me!
CORYDON: It’s only a game, is it?—Yet I believe You’ve poisoned me
in earnest! [Writhes and pulls the strings tighter, winding them about
THYRSIS’ neck.]
THYRSIS: Corydon! [Dies.]
CORYDON: You’ve poisoned me in earnest. . . . I feel so cold. . . . So
cold . . . this is a very silly game. . . . Why do we play it?—let’s
not play this game A minute more . . . let’s make a little song About a
lamb. . . . I’m coming over the wall, No matter what you say,—I want
to be near you. . . .
Where is the wall?
There isn’t any wall, I think.
Thyrsis, where is your cloak?—just give me A little bit of your
cloak! . . .
COTHURNUS: Strike the scene! [Exit COTHURNUS.]
PIERROT: Don’t puff so, Columbine!
COLUMBINE: Lord, what a mess This set is in! If there’s one thing I hate
Above everything else,—even more than getting my feet wet—
It’s clutter!—He might at least have left the scene The way he found
it … don’t you say so, Pierrot?
PIERROT: Well, I don’t know. I think it rather diverting The way it is.
[Yawns, picks up confetti bowl.]
Shall we begin?
COLUMBINE: [Screams.] My God! What’s that there under the table?
PIERROT: It is the bodies Of the two shepherds from the other play.
COLUMBINE: [Slowly.] How curious to strangle him like that, With colored
paper ribbons.
PIERROT: Yes, and yet I dare say he is just as dead. [Pauses. Calls.]
Cothurnus! Come drag these bodies out of here! We can’t Sit down and eat
with two dead bodies lying Under the table! . . . The audience wouldn’t
stand for it!
COTHURNUS: (Off stage.) What makes you think so?— Pull down the
tablecloth On the other side, and hide them from the house, And play the
farce. The audience will forget.
PIERROT: That’s so. Give me a hand there, Columbine.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon,—I cannot live without a
macaroon!
PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! … Is it Tuesday,
Columbine?— I’ll kiss you if it’s Tuesday.
COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know. … Is this my artichoke Or
yours?
PIERROT: Ah, Columbine, as if it mattered! Wednesday. . . . Will it be
Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance? . . .
[CURTAIN.]
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ON THE PLAYING PO
ARIA DA CAPO ORIGINAL CAST AS PLAYED BY THE PROVINCETOWN PLAYERS, NEW YORK
CITY PIERROT HARRISON DOWD COLUMBINE NORMA MILLAY COTHURNUS HUGH FERRISS
CORYDON CHARLES ELLIS THYRSIS JAMES LIGHT
AUTHOR’S NOTE
So great is my vexation always, when reading a play, to find its progress
constantly being halted and its structure loosened by elaborate
explanatory parentheses, that I resolved when I should publish Aria da
Capo to incorporate into its text only those explanations the omission of
which might confuse the reader or lend a wrong interpretation to the
lines. Since, however, Aria da Capo was written not only to be read but
also to be acted, and being conscious that the exclusion of the usual
directions, while clarifying the play to the reader, may make it bare of
suggestions and somewhat baffling to the producer, I am adding here some
remarks which have been found of value in preparing it for presentation on
the stage.
Since the production of Aria da Capo by the Provincetown Players, I have
received a great many letters from the directors of little theatres,
asking for copies of it with a view to producing it. Very often, after I
send the play, I receive a letter in reply asking for some suggestions for
its presentation, and enclosing direct questions on points that have been
difficult. It occurred to me finally that it would be reasonable to make
up a sort of informal prompt-book to send about with the play; and it is
that which is printed below. It will be found incomplete and uneven, in
some instances unnecessarily detailed, in others not sufficiently so; all
of which is due to the fact that it was put together loosely, from answers
to chance questions, rather than logically, as an entity in itself.
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PRODUCTION OF “ARIA DA CAPO”
SETTING:
The setting required is simple:—a grey curtain, a long black table,
two slender black high-backed chairs, and a raised platform.
Instead of wings and back-drop the Provincetown Players cleverly utilized
painted screens, the heights varying from 6 to 10 feet, these being set
right and left of the stage in such manner as to give the effect of depth
and distance.
The table, six feet long and two feet wide, has thin legs and is painted
black.
When Pierrot and Columbine enter in the final scene, it is not necessary
that the table which Cothurnus has replaced shall entirely conceal the
bodies of Thyrsis and Corydon. Pierrot and Columbine must ignore them
until the lines indicate their discovery, no matter how they may have
fallen.
Particular attention must be given to the chairs in this set. They are
used to construct the tissue-paper wall, and, although delicate, should be
heavy enough to remain solid and steady, up and down stage, without the
possibility of an upset when Corydon strides through the wall.
Near the footlights (actors’ left) are two sofa pillows, used to represent
the rocks against which the shepherds lean. On the left of the stage have
another pillow, which Thyrsis places under his head when he lies down to
sleep. Use cloth or crepe paper for these pillows, and have them of
spotted black and white material, or of any gay color except red or blue.
Cothurnus occupies a chair upon a platform, up-stage, centre, with two or
three steps surrounding it on three sides. Drape this with plain heavy
black cloth.
The table covering is important. Its width is equal to that of the added
height and width of the table. As it must be moved to cover the bodies of
Thyrsis and Corydon, it should be of sufficient weight to prevent
slipping. It will be well to experiment with this, to ensure proper
performance.
The cover should have black and white spots and striped ends.
The table is set as follows:—two large wooden bowls (at least seven
inches high and fourteen inches in diameter). One is placed at each end of
the table. That at Columbine’s end should contain persimmons,
pomegranates, grapes and other bright exotic fruits. Pierrot’s bowl has
confetti and colored paper ribbons, the latter showing plainly over the
edge. (If Columbine uses practical macaroons, put them into this bowl.)
Near Columbine, place a practical uncooked artichoke; have this of good
size, and nail it to a wooden standard, painted black. At both places
there are tall white wooden goblets.
In the centre of the table there should be a curious, grotesque, but very
gay flower, standing upright in a pot of wood or heavy paper, which will
not break when Thyrsis drops it. Concealed at the root of this plant there
should be a small sack of black confetti, to be used in the “poison
scene.”
The table should be set with nothing but these articles, and yet give the
appearance of bounty and elegance.
Place the table parallel with the footlights,—the long side toward
the audience.
Columbine’s chair is at the actors’ right, and Pierrot’s opposite—Columbine’s
hat hangs from her chair-top. Both chairs are festooned with tissue-paper
ribbons, at least ten feet long, to be used later by the shepherds to
represent their wall. These must be of such a texture as to break readily
when Corydon walks through, and a prearranged transverse tear or two will
assist in the prompt breakage when he does so.
PROPERTIES:
Two white wooden bowls, one filled with fruits and the other with confetti
and paper ribbons,—one ribbon to be of cotton or silk, in order to
be not too easily broken by Corydon when strangling Thyrsis
Two tall white wooden goblets
One artichoke nailed to a standard
One flower in paper or wooden pot, the root wrapped with black crepe paper
(or use confetti)
Black and white tablecloth
Macaroons
Boots and prompt-book for Cothurnus (large flat black book)
Also, if desired, mask of Tragedy for Cothurnus
Crepe or tissue streamers of different colors, including no red or blue,
for wall.
COSTUMES:
PIERROT: Lavender or lilac satin, preferably a blue-lavender. Care should
be taken that the lavender does not turn pink under the stage lights.
Pierrot’s costume is the conventional smock with wide trousers, with black
crepe paper rosettes on the smock, wide white tarleton ruff. Black evening
pumps with black rosettes may be worn. Black silk skull-cap.
COLUMBINE: Tight black satin bodice cut very low, with straps over the
shoulders, quite like the modern evening gown; very full tarleton skirts
of different shades of pink and cerise, reaching to the knees; ruffled
bloomers of apple-green tarleton, the ruffles showing below the skirts;
black silk stockings and black ballet slippers, laced with green. Hat of
lavender crepe paper, with streamers of gay colors—including,
however, no clear red or blue. Hat should be small and very smart—not
a shepherdess hat. Columbine should be made up to suggest a doll.
As originally interpreted she had short light hair, standing out bushily
all over her head. Long hair should be rolled under to give a bobbed
effect, or could be arranged in obvious caricature of some extreme modern
style, but must look attractive, and must be blonde.
COTHURNUS: Plain toga of dull purple in some heavy, unreflecting material
which will fall into large folds, lined with sombre flame-color; a garment
with large purple sleeves, of which only the sleeves were visible, was
worn under the toga,—but the effect should be classical; heavy boots
should be worn, as nearly as possible like the tragic Roman buskin; one
end of the great toga is tied into a rough hood which covers the actor’s
head; a mask may be worn, but it is often difficult to speak through, and,
if desired, the actor’s face may be made up to represent a mask of
Tragedy.
THYRSIS and CORYDON: These costumes, in striking contrast to the elegance
of those of Pierrot and Columbine, should be very simple, and very roughly
made; short tunics of outing-flannel or some such material—fastened
loosely over one shoulder,—one shoulder, as well as most of the back
and breast, exposed. Legs bare, or swathed from the knee to the ankle in
rough strips of the same material. Sandals. Cloaks of heavier, cheap
material fastened to the tunics in such a way that they will appear to be
simply flung over the shoulder, but actually fastened very cleverly in
order to avoid tripping the shepherds, who are continually sitting down on
the floor and getting up again.
Thyrsis wears a dark grey tunic and cloak of raw bright red,—but not
a turkey-red, as this color will kill the blue of Corydon’s cloak. Corydon
wears tunic of light grey and cloak of brilliant blue. There must be no
red or blue used anywhere in the entire play excepting in the blue and red
of these two cloaks. The two shepherds must be so strong and vivid in
every way that when Columbine comes in and says, “Is this my scene or
not?” it will seem to the audience that it is she, not the shepherds, who
is hopelessly out of the scene.
CHARACTERS:
PIERROT: Pierrot sees clearly into existing evils and is rendered gaily
cynical by them; he is both too indolent and too indifferent to do
anything about it. Yet in several lines of the play his actual unhappiness
is seen, —for instance, “Moon’s just a word to swear by,” in which
he expresses his conviction that all beauty and romance are fled from the
world. At the end of the play the line, “Yes, and yet I dare say he is
just as dead,” must not be said flippantly or cynically, but slowly and
with much philosophic concentration on the thought. From the moment when
Columbine cries, “What’s that there under the table?” until Pierrot calls,
“Cothurnus, come drag these bodies out of here!” they both stand staring
at the two bodies, without moving in any way, or even lifting their eyes.
(This same holding of the play is used several times also by the
shepherds,—for instance, always during the off-stage interpolations,
they stand either staring at each other across the wall, or maintaining
whatever other position they may have had when the off-stage voice begins
speaking, until the interruption is over, when they resume their drama
quite as if nobody had spoken.) Columbine’s “How curious to strangle him
like that” is spoken extremely slowly, in a voice of awe, curiosity, and
horror. For a moment the two characters seem almost to feel and be subdued
by the tragedy that has taken place. They remain standing very quietly
while Cothurnus speaks his final lines off stage, and for a moment after
he has said, “The audience will forget”; then very slowly raise their eyes
and exchange glances, Pierrot nods his head curtly and says, “That’s so”;
they set their bowls gaily back on the table, and the play begins again.
Pierrot in such lines as “Ah, Columbine, as if it mattered!” speaks with
mock saccharine tenderness; but in such lines as “If you were a fly you
would be dead by now!” although he speaks very gaily his malice must be
apparent almost even to her; Columbine bores him to death. When he says,
“I’ll go and strum the moon!” he is for the instant genuinely excited and
interested; he is for this moment like a child, and is happy.
COLUMBINE: Pretty and charming, but stupid; she never knows what Pierrot
is talking about, and is so accustomed to him that she no longer pretends
to understand him; but she is very proud of him, and when he speaks she
listens with trustful admiration. Her expression, “I cannot live without”
this or that, is a phrase she uses in order to make herself more
attractive, because she believes men prefer women to be useless and
extravagant; if left to herself she would be a domestic and capable
person.
COTHURNUS: This character should be played by a tall and imposing figure
with a tremendous voice. The voice of Cothurnus is one of the most
important things in the acting play. He should have a voice deeper than
the voice used by any of the other persons, should speak weightily and
with great dignity, but almost without intonation, and quite without
feeling, as if he had said the same words many times before. Only in his
last speech may he be permitted a comment on the situation. This speech
should be spoken quite as impressively as the others and fully as slowly.
CORYDON and THYRSIS: These two characters are young, very simple, and
childlike; they are acted upon by the force that sits on the back of the
stage behind them. More and more as their quarrel advances they begin to
see that something is wrong, but they have no idea what to do about it,
and they scarcely realize what is happening, the quarrel grows so from
little things into big things. Corydon’s first vision of the tragedy is in
“It’s terrible when you stop to think of it.” Thyrsis’ first vision comes
when he looks into the pool; in seeing the familiar reflection he is
struck by the unfamiliarity of one aspect of it, the poisonous root; for
the first time he realizes that this man who is about to kill with
poisoned water his most beloved friend, is none other than Thyrsis himself,—”‘Tis
I!” The personalities of Thyrsis and Corydon are not essentially
different. They develop somewhat differently, because of the differing
circumstances.
When Columbine goes out for the first time she takes with her her
artichoke and her wine-glass, also a couple of macaroons, which she
nibbles, going out. This helps to get the table cleared. The other
articles are removed by the shepherds when they prepare the stage for
their scene, in this manner: at the cue “Sir, we are always ready. . . .
Play the play!”, Corydon and Thyrsis come down stage, Corydon to Pierrot’s
end of the table, Thyrsis to Columbia’s; simultaneously, first, they set
back the chairs against the wall, Pierrot’s left front, Columbine’s right
front; next they remove the two big bowls and set them in symmetrical
positions on the floor, left front and right front, in such a way that the
bowl of confetti may be the mine of jewels for Corydon, and the bowl of
fruits, the punch-bowl, may represent the pool of water for Thyrsis; then,
taking the table by the two ends, they set it back against the wall,
right; next, while Corydon places the two pillows from the left wall on
the floor to represent rocks in their pasture, Thyrsis removes from the
table everything that is left on it except the tablecloth,—this
should be only Pierrot’s wine-goblet and the flower in its pot. (The
flower is to represent later the poisonous weed which Thyrsis finds, the
wine-goblet a drinking-cup beside the pool, the flower-pot a bowl in which
to mix the poison and bring it to Corydon.) The two shepherds do this
setting of their stage swiftly and silently, then seat themselves at once,
in easy but beautiful postures, and remain for a moment looking off as if
at their sheep while a complete silence settles over the stage and house,—a
pastoral silence, if it is possible to suggest it—before they
begin to speak.
When Columbine comes in, looking for her hat, she picks up the hat from
her chair, now in the centre of the stage near the footlights, in a direct
line with Pierrot’s, which is centre back, just in front of Cothurnus,—the
shepherds having set them in these positions, back to back, in order to
have their aid in weaving the wall. After taking her hat, Columbine stands
looking at the shepherds to see what is going on. They do not look at her.
After a moment Thyrsis, slowly, with his eyes steadfastly on Corydon’s,
says, “Take it, and go.” When Columbine comes in in the final scene, she
is wearing the hat. She takes it off, however, as she sits down again at
the table, so that the second beginning of the play may recall as vividly
as possible to the audience the first beginning.