قراءة كتاب In Honour Bound An Original Play, in One Act. (Suggested by Scribe's Five Act Comedy, "Une Chaine.")
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In Honour Bound An Original Play, in One Act. (Suggested by Scribe's Five Act Comedy, "Une Chaine.")
There never was a case without a woman in it, and I never leave one till I’ve found her; for I know well enough until I do I have not mastered it. There is a woman in your case, my friend.
Philip. To tell the truth, there is. A charming girl I met upon the voyage home.
Sir G. The jolly voyage home!
Philip. I am in love this time, Sir George.
Sir G. Oh, yes! we always are in love this time.
Philip. I thought I was before, but I was wrong.
Sir G. Of course! we never were before!
Philip. And, better still, I am engaged.
Sir G. What, to the charming girl?
Philip. The only girl in the wide world for me.
Sir G. Well, you’ve been round it, so you ought to know. I hope you will be happy. It’s a toss-up, Philip.
Philip. I’m afraid your profession makes you cynical.
Sir G. Gad, it would make an angel cynical.
Philip. No doubt, you meet with some extraordinary cases.
(turning over briefs)
Sir G. Never. All ordinary. To a man who has had twenty years’ experience, no possible case can appear extraordinary. There aren’t three there of which I didn’t know the end before I turned a page. No wonder we don’t always read our briefs, for we know most of them by heart.
(lies back)
Philip. Hallo! (smiling)
Sir G. What have you found?
Philip. A breach of promise case. This looks amusing.
Sir G. Very amusing for the judge and jury. Very amusing for the public too. Very amusing for the new-made wife to read in all the newspapers her husband’s past.
Philip. Is the defendant married, then?
Sir G. Of course he is. They always are. And of course he was on with the new love before he was off with the old. They always will be. The old love was no better than she need be, and no more was he. Very amusing for the new love, isn’t it?
Philip. Of course the letters will be read in court?
Sir G. And published in the papers. “November, 1877—your own loving and devoted Harry. (laughter) November, 1878—Yours most affectionately, Henry. (loud laughter) November, 1879—Yours truly, Henry Horrocks. (roars of laughter).” Oh, it’s a most amusing case—for Mrs. Henry Horrocks.
Philip. Why don’t you settle it? You are for the defendant.
Sir G. We’ve tried, but it’s too late. Take warning by my client.
Philip. I?
Sir G. You be in time, if you are not too late already.
Philip. Excuse me, mine was quite a different case. Thank heaven, I have no reason to reproach myself. There was no love, at any rate on my side, in the matter you allude to.
Sir G. And yet you fled the country to avoid the lady. (sitting up)
Philip. I never said so.
Sir G. No, my boy; you never said that two and two makes four, but it does, doesn’t it? (looking at Philip through his glasses)
Philip. No doubt. I felt that my position was——(hesitates)
Sir G. Equivocal.
Philip. That is the word I wanted.
Sir G. Useful word.
Philip. And feeling that, I thought the best course was to——
Sir G. Run away.
Philip. But as for promises of marriage, there was nothing of that sort. In fact, there couldn’t be.
Sir G. Because the lady was already——
Philip. Hang it, Sir George, you’re telling me my case!
Sir G. (drops glasses) You’ll find it in the third brief on your right.
Philip. (looking at brief) “Winter v. Winter and Hockheimer”?
Sir G. That’s your case, as far as it has gone.
Philip. (takes up brief and reads endorsement) “In the High Court of Justice—Probate and”—— But this is a divorce case!
Sir G. Just so.
Philip. Oh, that’s not my case. (puts brief back in its place)
Sir G. I said as far as it had gone. Hockheimer ran away. You ran away. But Hockheimer came back again. And I observe that you’ve come back again.
Philip. But I’m not Hockheimer!
Sir G. As far as you have gone. Hockheimer was a friend of Winter’s——
Philip. But I’m not! I never saw the man in my life!
Sir G. No, but the other man?
Philip. What other man?
Sir G. The husband.
Philip. I didn’t say he was my friend!
Sir G. Oh, yes, you did.
Philip. When did I say so?
Sir G. When you ran away. (puts glasses up)
Philip. Spare me, Sir George. You make me feel like a witness under cross-examination. I didn’t mean to breathe a word of this, and somehow I have told you everything.
Sir G. Well, you have told me a good deal. (drops glasses) Now, will you let me give you my advice?
Philip. By all means.
Sir G. Keep those women apart.
Philip. Which women?
Sir G. (smiling) The charming girl and the neglected wife.
Philip. I never said she was neglected.
Sir G. But she is, isn’t she? (putting up his eye-glasses)
Philip. Those glasses worry me.
Sir G. (dropping the eye-glasses) I beg your pardon; it’s the force of habit. Off with the old love—friend—or what you will—and never let the new one see her. Off with her entirely! That’s my advice; and many a hundred guineas have been paid for worse.
Philip. Oh, they will never meet. I mean to live abroad. The girl I am engaged to is a South Australian. (Sir George lifts his head quickly) And she has only come to England on a visit. Her parents are both dead, and she came over with a maiden aunt with whom she is now stopping.
Sir G. Where?
Philip. At Bayswater. In a few weeks she will go back to Melbourne; and then all danger, if there be any, is over.
Sir G. So you have come from Melbourne in the “Kangaroo”? (rises)
Philip. Who told you what boat I came over in?