Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence (Illustrated), page 741
NURSE: Eight years.
DR FOULES: Ah, Nurse, we don’t measure experience by years.
NURSE: Surely, you have a quotation!
DR FOULES (smiling): No, I have not — for a wonder. Indeed I’m growing out of touch with literature.
NURSE: I shall not know you. You used to be —
DR FOULES: Vox, et præterea nihil. “A voice, and nothing more.”
NURSE: You are yourself. But you have not had much experience, in eight years?
DR FOULES: Not much has happened to me.
NURSE: And you a doctor!
DR FOULES: And I a doctor!
NURSE: But you have lost your old æsthetic look — wistful, I nearly said.
DR FOULES: Damnosa quid non imminuit dies? “Whom has not pernicious time impaired?”
NURSE: Not your stock of learning, evidently.
DR FOULES (bowing): Nor your wit, Nurse. Suum cuique. You have not — ?
NURSE: What?
DR FOULES: You have not — married?
NURSE: Nurse Broadbanks.
DR FOULES: Of course — ha ha — how slow of me. Verbum sat sapienti.
NURSE: And you — ?
DR FOULES: What, Nurse?
NURSE: Married?
DR FOULES: No, Nurse, I am not. Nor, if it is anything to your satisfaction, likely to be.
NURSE: Your mother is still alive?
DR FOULES (bowing): Rem acu tetigisti. “You have pricked the point with your needle.”
NURSE: I beg your pardon.
DR FOULES: Do not, I beg, do not.
NURSE: Semper idem — I know so much Latin.
DR FOULES: In what am I always the same, Nurse?
NURSE: Well — your politeness.
DR FOULES: Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. My old motto, you remember.
NURSE: I do not know the English for it.
DR FOULES: “Gentle in manner, resolute in deed.”
NURSE: In what deed, may I ask, Doctor?
DR FOULES: You may ask, Nurse. I am afraid I cannot tell you. And I, may I ask what you have done?
NURSE: Worked enough to be rather tired, Doctor — and found the world full of friends.
DR FOULES: Non multa sed multum. “Not many things, but much,” Nurse. I could not say so much.
NURSE (laughing): No?
DR FOULES: Quid rides? “Wherefore do you laugh?”
NURSE: She lives with you here?
DR FOULES: My mother? Yes.
NURSE: It will always be said of you — ”He was a good son.”
DR FOULES: I hope so, Nurse.
NURSE: Yes — it is the best.
DR FOULES (softly): You look sad.
NURSE: Not on my own behalf, Doctor.
DR FOULES: On mine, Nurse?
NURSE (reluctantly): No, not quite that.
DR FOULES: Tædium vitæ — all unresolved emotions and sicknesses go under that “weariness of life”.
NURSE: Life? Doctor — do we get enough life to be weary of it? Work, perhaps.
DR FOULES: It may be — but —
NURSE: You don’t want life.
DR FOULES (smiling): Not much. I see too much of it to want it.
NURSE: Your mother will, I hope, live long enough to save you from experience.
DR FOULES: I hope it is a good wish, Nurse.
NURSE: Do you doubt it?
DR FOULES: Will you come and see us, Nurse?
NURSE: And see your mother?
DR FOULES: And see my mother, Nurse. (He bows.)
NURSE (smiling): Thank you — I will.
Enter HARRY — he stands rather confused in the doorway.
DR FOULES: Good morning, Mr Hemstock. How is Mrs Hemstock this morning?
HARRY: ‘Er’s pretty middlin’, I believe.
Enter MR HEMSTOCK.
DR FOULES: I have just discovered that Nurse and I are old friends.
MR HEMSTOCK: I am glad of that —
DR FOULES: Thank you.
NURSE: Dr Foules used to be my sweetheart.
MR HEMSTOCK: You don’t mean it!
DR FOULES: Is it so long ago, Nurse, that you jest about it?
NURSE: I do not jest, Doctor. You are always to be taken very seriously.
DR FOULES (bowing): Thank you.
NURSE (to HARRY): Where did I leave my galoshes, Mr Hemstock?
HARRY: I’ll fetch ‘em.
He brings them in.
NURSE: How good of you to clean them for me!
They all stand watching while NURSE pulls them on.
DR FOULES: “A world full of friends,” Nurse.
NURSE: Mr Hemstock and I are very good friends — are we not, Mr Hemstock?
HARRY: I dinna know — you know best — ’appen we are.
DR FOULES: You are repudiated, Nurse.
NURSE: Twice! You shouldn’t have begun it.
DR FOULES: I am very sorry. It is never too late to mend.
NURSE: We’ve heard that before this morning. I must go.
DR FOULES: You will come and see us — soon.
NURSE: I am at your disposal, Doctor. Good day, everybody.
ALL: Good day, Nurse.
DR FOULES: Well, I will see how Mrs Hemstock is.
He goes out.
MR HEMSTOCK: He’s a nice fellow.
HARRY: Hm!
MR HEMSTOCK: Fancy he used ter court Nurse! I shouldna be surprised if they got together again.
HARRY: It doesna matter to me whether ‘er does or not.
MR HEMSTOCK: No, it na matters to us — on’y I should like to see her settled wi’ a decent chap. She’s a good woman for any man. If I’d a been thy age —
HARRY: Wi’ that other hangin’ round — an’ no work to do — tha’s ha’ done wonders.
MR HEMSTOCK: T’other — tha’s gin ‘er the sack — an’ tha can get work elsewhere.
HARRY: Dost think ‘er’d ha’e me! (He laughs contemptuously.)
There is a noise of yelping and crying. The men stand and listen.
MR HEMSTOCK: It’s that dog! — An’ Nurse!
HARRY rushes out. There is a great yelping and ki-yi-ing, a scream from NURSE. Immediately NURSE enters, carrying Patty, who flaps in a torn and gory state. HARRY follows. NURSE, panting, sets down Patty.
MR HEMSTOCK: Whatever —
HARRY (flushing in fury): Has it hurt thee — did it touch thee?
NURSE: Me!
HARRY: I’ll break its neck.
NURSE: Oh — don’t be —
HARRY: Where did it touch thee? There’s blood on thee.
NURSE: It’s not me, it’s Patty.
HARRY: ‘Appen tha non knows — ’appen it catched thee. Look at thy arm — look there!
NURSE: No — I’m not hurt, I’m sure I’m not.
HARRY: I’ll break its neck, the brute.
NURSE: It had got hold of poor Patty by the wing — poor old bird.
HARRY: Look at thy cuffs. I’ll break its neck.
NURSE: No — oh no, don’t go out — no — get me some warm water, will you — and I’ll see to Patty.
HARRY brings a bowl of warm water. NURSE takes bandaging from her bag.
MR HEMSTOCK: It’s been at her before.
NURSE (to HARRY): You look after her other wing — keep her still — poor old bird — (She proceeds to dress the wounded wing.)
MR HEMSTOCK: She’d be alright, Nurse, without you bothering.
NURSE: The idea — poor old thing!
MR HEMSTOCK: We’ve been many time worse hurt at pit, an’ not half that attention.
NURSE: But — you see, you’re not geese.
HARRY: We’re not of as much count.
NURSE: Hand me the scissors, please — you don’t know what you are —
DR FOULES enters and stands in doorway.
MR HEMSTOCK: I keep telling him, if he set more stock by himself other folks ‘ud think better of him.
NURSE: They might know him a little better if he’d let them.
DR FOULES: I see my help is superfluous.
NURSE: Yes, Doctor — it’s one of the lower animals.
DR FOULES: Ah —
CURTAIN
ACT II
SCENE I
The same evening. The HEMSTOCKS’ kitchen, with the lamp lighted. The BAKER and HARRY sit with glasses of whisky.
BAKER: An’ tha doesn’t want ‘er?
HARRY: I heave at the sight of her.
BAKER: She’ll ha’e a bit o’ money, I reckon.
HARRY: She’s got to wait till old Hezekiah cops out, first.
BAKER: Hm! That’ll be a long time yet — if he doesn’t get married again. They say he’s hankerin’ after Nurse.
HARRY: ‘Er’ll niver ha’e ‘im.
BAKER: Too old. But what hast got against Rachel?
HARRY: Nowt — but I heave wi’ sickness at the thought of ‘er.
BAKER: Hm! I like one as’ll give as much as she takes.
HARRY: Sight more.
BAKER: It depends who’s who.
HARRY: I can never make out why she went in service at the vicarage.
BAKER: Can’t you? I’ve had many a nice evening up there. Baron an’ Baroness go to bed at nine o’clock and then — Oh, all the girls know the advantage of being at the vicarage.
HARRY: Oh — an’ does she ha’e thee up in the kitchen?
BAKER: Does she not half.
HARRY: I thought she wor so much struck on me!
BAKER: You wait a minute. If she can’t feed i’ th’ paddock she’ll feed at th’ roadside. Not but what she’s all right, you know.
HARRY: I do know.
BAKER: She’s not got the spirit of your Susy. By Jove, she’s a terror. No liberties there.
HARRY: Not likely.
BAKER: They say Bill left ‘er in debt.
HARRY: He did.
BAKER: Hm! She’ll have a long pull, then, to get it paid off.
HARRY: She’s a-waitin’ for my mother’s money.
BAKER: Is she likely to get much?
HARRY: Happen a couple o’ hundred — happen nowt.
BAKER: Depends on the will?
HARRY: Yes.
BAKER: A couple of hundred. . . .
HARRY: About that apiece, we should ha’e.
BAKER: Hm! You’ve seen the will?
HARRY: No — my mother takes good care o’ that.
BAKER: Then none of you know? But you’ve some idea.
HARRY: We hanna. My mother’s funny — there’s no tellin’ what ‘er might do.
BAKER: Hm! She might leave the money away from her own children?
HARRY: I shouldna be a bit surprised.
BAKER: Hm! An’ your Susy —
MRS SMALLEY (entering): What about your Susy?
BAKER: Hello!
MRS SMALLEY: You’re stoppin’ a precious long time. Where might you be bound to-night?
BAKER: Not far.
MRS SMALLEY: No further than the vicarage, an’ that’s two closes off. But Rachel’ll be givin’ you up.
BAKER: ‘Appen so.
MRS SMALLEY: Then she’ll be tryin’ her chances down here.
BAKER: I wish her luck.
HARRY (going out): I’ll go an’ get a bit o’ bacca.
MRS SMALLEY: An’ what do you call luck?
BAKER: Which do you reckon is a lucky-bag, me or your Harry?
MRS SMALLEY: You’re both about as good: he’s only got a little bunged-up whistle in him, an’ many a hand’s ferreted in you an’ fetched out what’s worth havin’.
BAKER: So I’m not worth havin’?
MRS SMALLEY: No, you’re not, that’s flat.
BAKER: So you wouldn’t have me?
MRS SMALLEY: You’re giving yourself away, are you?
BAKER (incisively): No, I’m not.
MRS SMALLEY: Indeed. And what’s your figure, may I ask?
BAKER: A couple of hundred, to you; to anyone else, more.
MRS SMALLEY: Thank you for the offer — very kind of you, I’m sure. And how much is it to Rachel?
BAKER: Two hundred an’ fifty.
MRS SMALLEY: Oh! So I’m worth fifty pound to you, am I — after I’ve put my two hundred down. Ready money?
BAKER: Six months bill.
MRS SMALLEY: You are a swine.
BAKER: Do you accept?
MRS SMALLEY: You are a pig! You’d eat cinders if you could get nowt else.
BAKER: I should. I’d rather have you than any of the boiling; but I must, I must, have —
MRS SMALLEY: Two hundred?
BAKER: Not less.
MRS SMALLEY: Six months bill.
BAKER: Six months bill.
MRS SMALLEY: I hope you’ll get it.
BAKER: I intend to.
MRS SMALLEY (after a speechless moment): You are a devil when you’ve had a drop.
BAKER: Am I a dear one?
MRS SMALLEY: Do you call yourself cheap?
BAKER: What do you think? I was always one of the “take it or leave it” sellers.
MRS SMALLEY: I think you imagine yourself worth a great sight more than you are.
BAKER: Hm! I should have thought you’d have found the figure easy. And I’ve always said I’d rather it was you than anybody.
MRS SMALLEY: You was mighty slow, then, once on a day.
BAKER: I was a young cock-sparrow then — common — but wouldn’t die in a cage.
MRS SMALLEY: An’ what do you reckon you are now?
BAKER: I’m an old duck that knows “dilly-dilly”!
MRS SMALLEY: “Come and be killed.”
BAKER: Scatter me a bit of golden corn — two hundred — and you may wring my neck.
MRS SMALLEY: You must have an empty crop.
BAKER: A few pebbles that’ll digest me if I don’t —
MRS SMALLEY: Debts?
BAKER: I said pebbles.
MRS SMALLEY: You’re a positive fiend in drink.
BAKER: But what about — ?
Enter RACHEL, a tall, pale girl, with dark circles under her eyes. She has a consumed look, as if her quiet pallor smothered a fire. She wears a servant’s cap and apron covered by a large dark shawl. She enters softly.
RACHEL: I thought I heard you two.
MRS SMALLEY (startled): You might knock!
RACHEL: Were you talking secrets?
BAKER: Have you come to look for me, Rachel?
RACHEL (cuttingly): You think a mighty lot of yourself.
BAKER: Have a drop of Scotch? No? How’s that? There’s Harry’s glass — drink out of that.
RACHEL: You’re very clever at giving away what’s not your own. Give me yours.
BAKER: I’ve not finished with it — but you can drink with me. Here!
RACHEL: No, thank you.
BAKER (softly, smiling): Why, what has offended you?
RACHEL: Nothing, indeed.
BAKER: That’s alright. I don’t like you to be offended. As a sign of good luck. (She sips.) Thanks. I’m sorry I’m late.
RACHEL: You’re not there yet, so you can’t be late.
BAKER: Yes, I am there. What farther have I to go?
RACHEL (singing):
