Five Little Plays by Alfred Sutro
page 27 of 122 (22%)
page 27 of 122 (22%)
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WALTER. [_Chuckling hugely._] He didn't give the lover much chance to stand up to him, did he? BETTY. And _wasn't_ he original! Dog, hound, villain, traitor! WALTER. To say nothing of Jezebel! Though, between ourselves, I think he meant Messalina! BETTY. And I was to go into the street. But he did let me fill my bag! WALTER. I think the playwrights come out on top, I do indeed. [_He goes to_ HECTOR, _and stands to left of him._] Hector, old chap, here's the letter! BETTY. [_Going to the other side of_ HECTOR, _and dropping a low curtsey._] And please, Mr. Husband, was it to be a big bag, or a small bag, and might I have taken the silver teapot? [HECTOR _has been standing there stupid, dazed, dumbfounded, too bewildered for his mind to act or thoughts to come to him; he suddenly bursts into a roar of Titanic, overwhelming laughter. He laughs, and laughs, staggers to the sofa, falls on it, rocks and roars till the tears roll down his cheeks. He sways from side to side, unable to control himself--his laughter is so colossal that the infection catches the others; theirs becomes genuine too._ BETTY. [_With difficulty, trying to control herself._] The letter! Old Gillingham! "His name, scoundrel, his name!" |
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