In the spirit of the "'Heigh-Ho for a Husband' Blog Party" I knew I just had to pretend to be the tiniest bit Shakespearean as a nod to the inspiration for this whole event. I am not sure I succeeded, but I was content and rather pleased than otherwise with what came out of it all. Therefore I give you my one-act play, "Thus Goes Everyone in the World" and I hope you enjoy it. The dialog is actually the both sides of Rachel counseling one another. It amused me quite a bit, and another friend quite a bit, and I hope you share some of our sentiments. :)
“Thus Goes Everyone in the World”
A humorous dialog by
Rachel Heffington
Scene: Two cousins, ages nineteen and twenty-two stand alone in a
garden as a friend who has just announced her engagement waves goodbye and
walks off arm and arm with her fiancé.
Amelia: “And now
I may truly say with Beatrice, ‘Thus goes everyone in the world but I…and I may
sit in a corner and cry ‘heigh-ho’ for a husband’!”
Sophia: “It does
seem so, does it not?”
Amelia: “In
truth, it does. But do not despair, my dear cousin—we are by no means out of
the running yet.”
Sophia: (sighing)
“My mind tells me so, but my heart—oh Amelia, does your heart not contradict
your mind?”
Amelia: “Indeed,
constantly. And may I be struck down were it not so. My mind and heart are as
alike as a kitten is to a raging bull.”
Sophia: “Mine as
well.”
Amelia: “Were my
heart to dictate the pace of my life I would have been married at eighteen—and
yet I can see it would have been in no way the best sort of thing. No, dreams
work rather in the way of wines—they only grow better and dearer with the
passage of time.”
Sophia: “And what
are your dreams?”
Amelia: “They
bear little resemblance when voiced to how they appeared in my heart. However I
will publish abroad that a tall, rather handsome, somewhat dark man figures
strongly in them” (laughs) “But my
tongue can say little of his demeanor, his carriage, and all the thousand
things that make him mine.”
Sophia: “How
easily you speak of your dreams. I prefer to keep mine locked away in my
heart—at least they will not be pulled to shreds there.”
Amelia: “Why this
sad countenance, cousin? In faith, you look as if the last man on earth had
died in fearful agonies on your dainty slippers. I let my dreams out of their
gilded cage that they may see the daylight while they may. True, I could coddle
them and keep them close and young forever in my secret heart, but I have a dim
hope that some of them may come homing back to me, at a distant day, not
entirely empty-handed.”
Sophia: “A fair
prospect, Amelia. But I have learned my heart well—it is not likely to change
from now until forever.”
Amelia: “And that
is something I have never been able to accomplish.”
Sophia: “Is your
heart so complex?”
Amelia: “It is a
perfect Chinese puzzle-box full of all a manner of secret drawers and springs.
No sooner have I set my mind on contentment one day, then the next I am dreary
and sad. I laugh in the face of the most toothed gale, and weep when the whole
world is smiling.”
Sophia: “Well for
my part I can easily comprehend why men do not love me—I am young and quiet and
not very clever, but I do think it queer that you are not married yet.”
Amelia: “Do you?
And would who among my acquaintance would you choose as my husband?” (winks at
Sophia) “Ah, indeed you are right—there is no one that would have me.”
Sophia: “I do
wonder they have not discovered your charms. There are other virtues beyond a
fair face and figure.”
Amelia: “Well
said, my dear Sophia. You speak the truth in saying so—beauty is not the only
currency love accepts as payment.”
Sophia: “A
beautiful heart and ladylike manners are more precious than a comely face.”
Amelia: “A truth
again, darling, but until men look upon women with their hearts instead of
their eyes, I fear we could all be perfect saints and it would make little
difference.”
Sophia: “I wonder
that you can speak so lightly on the subject, and smile over it too! Your
admissions are full of horrid sentiments. Do you despair so over your
singleness?”
Amelia: “Do not
worry about me, Sophia. If I have learned one thing in my two years seniority
over you, it is to laugh at myself. Only when I begin to take my ‘plight’ seriously
do I succumb to vague sensations of melancholia. You may have my hand upon
it—when I am laughing, I am well. Besides—I have found it excellent practice to
poke fun at myself—it takes some of the sting away to laugh instead of cry.”
Sophia: “A Job’s
comfort, Amelia.”
Amelia: “Were it
anyone else’s comfort besides, I would not care. I am determined to be a
cheerful single woman at eighty, if that is my lot.”
Sophia: “Again!
These horrid premonitions!”
Amelia: “A
premonition and a jest are two vastly different things, my dear Sophia, as you
would learn if you listened a bit less with that wayward heart and a bit more
with your ear. I admit that we women are partly to blame for the
gentleman-populace’s demand of perfect Dianas. For though beauty is not the
only coinage that has value, we have demanded payment in kind.”
Sophia: “What do
you mean, pray tell?”
Amelia: “In those
secret dreams of yours do you sigh over a man who more resembles a gorilla than
any other piece of creation?”
Sophia:
(horrified) “Indeed not!”
Amelia: “Then
neither do the men spin daydreams of wart-spackled hags.”
Sophia: “You
speak in terrible extremes.”
Amelia: “Do I?”
Sophia: “Ah. You
do sometimes worry over getting a husband—I know that wistful look.”
Amelia: “It is
less a problem of my getting a husband—I am rather more worried about a husband
getting me, for the man must be the
forward partner in all such cases.”
Sophia: “And they
are so slow about it while we are both wasting away and bound to be old maids
forever!”
Amelia: “How
direly you put it, Sophia-dear. If that were to be my destiny, I would
subscribe as a mail-order bride on Tuesday. However, an old maid is a condition
of the heart, not the circumstance.”
Sophia: “If the
men would only come we’d have nothing to worry about.”
Amelia: “Methinks
you speak rather too hurriedly, Sophia.”
Sophia:
“Probably. But oh, Amelia, is it not maddening to you that you have the respect
of every young man you know?”
Amelia: “I cannot
understand what you mean. Why should it be maddening?”
Sophia: “Do not
affect denseness, cousin, you know what I mean. That you should be respected by
all but loved by none!”
Amelia: “You’ve put
a different paint to the idea and it begins to sound a woeful case. However, I
would rather be respected by all than loved by a handful. ‘Twould be a slight
upon my character otherwise.”
Sophia: “How so?”
Amelia: “Look
upon it in the light of my heart: Were I held in contempt by all my
acquaintance save a single man who was fond of me, how would that vouch for my
character and his?”
Sophia: “Must you
be so clever always?”
Amelia: “Must you be so bent on dismal ends for us all?”
Sophia: “There is
not a single man who could turn your head, is there, Amelia?”
Amelia: “I should
hope he was single.”
Sophia:
“Ridiculous girl.”
Amelia: “Is this
fair? One moment I am too clever for the world, the next a ridiculous girl? I
troth your mind runs the gamut from one end to the other far too fast for me to
keep up with it.”
Sophia: “Is there
any man that has ever captured your fancy?”
Amelia: “I am a
woman, Sophia. Does the question merit an answer?”
Sophia: “It does,
and I demand one.”
Amelia: “Then I
will tell you, there has been such a man in my past and there will be one, I am
sure, in my future.”
Sophia: “And
still you smile!”
Amelia: “Would
you have me weep? There are but two choices in the case and I prefer the one
that the gentlemen find more attractive.”
Sophia: “What a
queer girl you are, Amelia. Sober one moment and merry the next.”
Amelia: “As is
the very world you live in, Sophia. Look about you, darling. What is the
largest cross you bear? Ah, you blush because it is that which we have spent
half an hour talking of. You weep and sigh and walk about in moroseness because
you haven’t a man to complete you. Is life not more than marriage, and is a
woman not more than the man that she is joined to?”
Sophia: “It
sounds wrong for you to say so.”
Amelia: “The only
Man that can ever complete me has done so already.”
Sophia: “You
speak aright, dear cousin.”
Amelia: “So then,
why are you sad? Let us be merry while we have our youth. We are not entirely
obsolete as we are.”
Sophia: “And if
we are never married?”
Amelia: “Then it
let it be said that we died in the pursuit of fine, noble things.”
Sophia: “Such
as?”
Amelia: “Oh, such
things as we ought—in seeking out charity, contentment, and devotion. Or, as we
would have it: life, liberty, and the pursuit of a husband.”
The End
Posts
