THE SCARECROW, A Tragedy of the Ludicrous
by Percy Mackaye

ACT I

The interior of a blacksmith shop. On the right side of the stage toward the center there is a forge. On the left stands a loft, from which are hanging dried cornstalks, hay, and the yellow ears of cattle-corn. Toward the rear is a wide double door, closed when the curtain rises. Through this door -- when later it is opened -- is visible a New England landmark in the late springtime: a distant wood; stone walls, high elms, a well-sweep; and, in the near foreground, a plowed field, from which the green shoots of early corn are just appearing. The blackened walls of the shop are covered with a miscellaneous collection of old iron, horseshoes, and cartwheels, the usual appurtenances of a smithy. In the right-hand corner, however, is an array of things quite out of keeping with the shop proper: musical instruments, puppets, tall clocks, and fantastical junk. Conspicuous amongst these articles is a large standing mirror, framed grotesquely in old gold and curtained by a dull stuff, embroidered with peaked caps and crescent moons. Just before the scene opens, a hammer is heard ringing briskly upon steel As the curtain rises there is discovered, standing at the anvil in the flickering light of a bright flame from the forge, a woman--powerful, ruddy, proud with a certain masterful beauty, white-haired (as though prematurely,) bare-armed to the elbows, clad in a dark skirt (above her ankles), a loose blouse, open at the throat; a leathern apron and a workman's cap. The woman is Goody Rickby. On the anvil she is shaping a piece of iron. Beside her stands a framework of iron, formed like the ribs and backbone of a man. For a few moments she continues to ply her hammer, amid a shower of sparks, till suddenly the flame on the forge dies down.

(To the scarecrow.) By-by, Sonny; take care of they mother. (Dickon slouches out with the glass whistling.)
GOODY RICKBY: Mother! Yea, if only I had a son -- the justice Merton's and mine! If the brat had but lived now to remind him of those merry days, which he has forgotten. Zooks, wouldn't I put a spoke in his wheel! But no such luck for me! No such luck! (As she goes to the forge, the stout figure of a man appears in the doorway behind her. Under one arm he carries a large book, in the other hand a gold-headed cane. He hesitates, embarrassed.)
THE MAN: Permit me, madam.
GOODY RICKBY: (Turning.) Justice Merton!
JUSTICE MERTON: (Removing his hat, steps over the sill, and lays his great book on the table; then with a supercilious look, he puts his hat firmly on again.) Permit me, dame.
GOODY RICKBY: You! (With confused, affected hauteur, ht e Justice shifts from foot to foot, flourishing his cane. As he speaks, Goody Rickby with a shrewd, painful expression, draws slowly backward toward the door, left, which opens into an inner room. Reaching it, she opens it part way, stands facing him, and listens.)
JUSTICE MERTON: I have had the honor -- permit me -- to entertain suspicions; to rise early, to follow my niece, to meet just now Squire Talbot; to hear his remarks concerning -- hem --! -- you, dame! to call here -- permit me -- to express myself and inquire --
GOODY RICKBY: Concerning your waistcoat? (Turning quickly, she snatches an article of apparel which hangs on the under side of the door, and holds it up.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (Starting, crimson.) Woman!
GOODY RICKBY: You left it behind -- the last time.
JUSTICE MERTON: I have not the honor to remember --
GOODY RICKBY: The one I embroidered?
JUSTICE MERTON: 'Tis a matter of __
GOODY RICKBY: Of some two-and-twenty years. (Stretching out the narrow width of the waistcoat.) Will you try it on now, dearie?
JUSTICE MERTON: Unconscionable! Un-un-unconscionable witch!
GOODY RICKBY: Witchling -- thou used to say.
JUSTICE MERTON: Pah! pah! I forget myself. Pride, permit me, goeth before a fall. As a magistrate, Rickby, I have already borne with you long! The last straw, however, breaks the camel's back.
GOODY RICKBY: Poor camel!
JUSTICE MERTON: You have soiled, you have smirched, the virgin reputation of my niece. You have inveigled her into notions of witchcraft; already the neighbors are beginning to talk. 'Tis a long land which hath no turning, saith the Lord. Permit me -- as a witch, thou art judged. Thou shalt hang.
A VOICE: (Behind him.) And me, too?
JUSTICE MERTON: (Turns about and stares.) Did -- did somebody speak
THE VOICE: (In front of him.) Not AT ALL.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Turning fiercely on Goody Rickby.) These are thy sorceries. But I fear them no. The righteous man walketh with God. (Going to the book which lies on the table.) I will read from the Holy Scriptures! (Unclasping the Bible, he flings open the ponderous covers, -- Dickon steps forth in smoke.)
DICKON: Thanks; it was stuffy in there.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Clasping his hands.) Dickon!
DICKON: (Moving a step nearer on the table.) Hullo, Gilly! Hullo,Bess!
JUSTICE MERTON: Dickon! No! No!
DICKON: Do ye mind Auld Lang Syne -- the chorus that night, Gilly? (Sings.)

(A whiff of smoke puffs from the scarecrow's pipe.) Sic! Sic! Jacobus! (Another whiff.) Bravo! (The whiffs grow more rapid and the thing trembles.)
GOODY RICKBY: Puff! puff, manny, for thy life.
DICKON: Fiat, faetus! -- Huzza! Noch einmal! Go it! (Clouds of smoke issue from the pipe, half fill the shop, and envelop the creature, who staggers.)
GOODY RICKBY: See! See his eyes!
DICKON: (Beckoning with one finger.) Veni fili! Veni! Take 'ee first step, bambino! -- Toddle! (The Scarecrow makes a stiff lurch forward and falls sidewise against the anvil, propped half-reclining against which he leans rigid, emitting fainter puffs of smoke in gasps. )
GOODY RICKBY: (Screams.) Have a care! He's fallen!
DICKON: Well done, Punkin Jack! Thou shalt be knighted for that! (Striking him on the shoulder with the hazel rod.) Rise, Lord Ravensbane! (The Scarecrow totters to his feet, and makes a forlorn rectilinear salutation.)
GOODY RICKBY: Look! He bows. -- He flaps his flails at thee. He smiles like a tik-doo-loo--roo!
DICKON: (With profound reverence, backing away.) Will his lordship deign to follow his tutor?
GOODY RICKBY: O Lord! Lord! the style o' the broomstick!
DICKON: (Holding ready a high-backed chair.) Will his lordship be seated and rest himself? (Awkwardly the Scarecrow half falls into the chair; his head sinks sideways, and his pipe falls out. Dickon snatches it up instantly and restores it to his mouth.) Puff! Puff, puer; 'tis thy life. (The Scarecrow puffs again. ) Is his lordships tobacco refreshing?
GOODY RICKBY: Look now! The red color in his cheeks. The beet-juice is pumping, oho!
DICKON: (Offering his arm.) Your lordship will deign to receive an audience? (The Scarecrow takes his arm and rises.) The Marchioness of Rickby, your lady mother, entreats leave to present herself.
GOODY RICKBY: (Curtsying low.) My son!
DICKON: (Holding the pipe, and waving the hazel rod.) Dicite! Speak! (The Scarecrow, blowing out his last mouthful of smoke, opens his m mouth, gasps, gurgles, and is silent.) In principio erat verbum! Accost thy mother! (The Scarecrow, clutching at his side in a struggle for coherence, fixes a pathetic look of pain on Goody Rickby.)
THE SCARECROW: Mother!
GOODY RICKBY: (With a scream of hysterical laughter, seizes both Dickon's hands and dances him about the forge.) O, Beelzebub! I shall die!
DICKON: Thou hast thy son. (Dickon whispers in the Scarecrows' ear, shakes his finger, and exit.)
GOODY RICKBY: He called me "mother." Again, boy, again.
THE SCARECROW: From the bottom of my heart -- mother.
GOODY RICKBY: "The bottom of his heart"! -- Nay, thou killest me.
THE SCARECROW: Permit me, madam!
GOODY RICKBY: Gilead! Gilead himself! Waistcoat, "permit me," and all: thy father over again, I tell thee.
THE SCARECROW: (With a slight stammer.) It gives me -- I assure you -- lady -- the deepest happiness.
GOODY RICKBY: Just so the old hypocrite spoke when I said I'd have him. But thou has a sweeter deference, my son. (Reenter Dickon; he is dressed all in black, save for a white stock -- a suit of plain elegance.)
DICKON: Now, my lord, your tutor is ready.
THE SCARECROW: (To Goody Rickby.) I have the honor -- permit me -- to wish you -- good morning. (Bows and takes a step after Dickon, who, taking a three-cornered cocked hat from a peg, goes toward the door.)
GOODY RICKBY: Whoa! Whoa, Jack! Whither away?
DICKON: (Presenting the hat.) Deign to reply, sir.
THE SCARECROW: I go -- with my tutor -- Master Dickonson -- to pay my respects -- to his worship -- the Justice -- Merton -- to solicit -- the hand -- of his daughter -- the fair Mistress -- Rachel. (With another bow. ) Permit me.
GOODY RICKBY: Permit ye? God speed ye! Thou must teach him his tricks, Dickon.
DICKON: Trust me, Goody. Between here and Justice Merton's, I will play the mother-hen, and I promise thee, our bantling shall be as stuffed with compliments as a callow chick with caterpillars. (As he throws open the big doors, the cawing of crows is heard again.) Hark! your lordship's retainers acclaim you on your birthday. They bid you welcome to your majority. Listen! "Long live Lord Ravensbane! Caw!"
GOODY RICKBY: Look! Count 'em, Dickon!

A wedding! Get thee gone. Wed the girl, and sting the Justice. Bless ye, my son!
THE SCARECROW: (With profound reverence.) Mother -- believe me -- to be -- your ladyship's -- most devoted -- obedient -- son.
DICKON: (Prompting him aloud.) Ravensbane.
THE SCARECROW: (Donning his hat, lifts his head in hauteur, shakes his lace ruffle over his hand, turns his shoulder, nods slightly, and speaks for the first time with complete mastery of his voice.) Hm! Ravensbane! (With one hand in the arm of Dickon, the other twirling his cane (the converted chaise-spoke) wreathed in halos of smoke from his pipe, the fantastical figure hitches elegantly forth into the daylight, amid louder acclamations of the crows.)

ACT II

The same morning. Justice Merton's parlor, furnished and designed in the style of the early colonial period. On the right wall hangs a portrait of the Justice as a young man; on the left wall, an old-fashioned looking-glass. At the right of the room stands the Glass of Truth,draped --as in the blacksmith shop -- with strange, embroidered curtain. In front of it are discovered Rachel and Richard; Rachel is about to draw the curtain.

RACHEL: Now! Are you willing?
RICHARD: So you suspect me of dark, villainous practices?
RACHEL: No, no, foolish Dick.
RICHARD: Still, I am to be tested; is that it?
RACHEL: That's it.
RICHARD: As your true lover.
RACHEL: Well, yes.
RICHARD: Why, of course, then, I consent. A true lover always consents to the follies of his lady-love.
RACHEL: Thank you, Dick; I trust the glass will sustain your character. Now; when I draw the curtain --
RICHARD: (Staying her hand.) What if I be false.
RACHEL: The, sir, the glass will reflect you as the subtle fox that you are.
RICHARD: And you -- as the goose?
RACHEL: Very likely. Ah! but, Richard, dear, we mustn't laugh. It may prove very serious. You do not guess -- you do not dream all the mysteries --
RICHARD: (Shaking his head, with a grave smile.) You pluck at too many mysteries. Remember our first mother Eve!
RACHEL: But this is the glass of truth; and Goody Rickby told me --
RICHARD: Rickby, forsooth!
RACHEL: Nay, come; let's have it over. (She draws the curtain, covers her eyes, steps back by Richard's side, looks at the glass, and gives a joyous cry.) Ah! there are you are, dear! There we are, both of us -- just as we have always seemed to each other, true. 'Tis proved. Isn't it wonderful?
RICHARD: Miraculous! That a mirror bought in a blacksmith shop, before sunrise, for twenty pounds, should prove to be actually -- a mirror!
RACHEL: Richard, I'm so happy. (Enter Justice Merton and Mistress Merton.)
RICHARD: (Embracing her.) Happy, art thou, sweet goose? Why then, God bless Goody Rickby.
JUSTICE MERTON: Strange words from you, Squire Talbot. (Rachel and Richard part quickly; Rachel draws the curtain over the mirror; Richard stands stiffly.)
RICHARD: Justice Merton! Why, sir, the old witch is more innocent, perhaps, than I represented her.
JUSTICE MERTON: A witch, believe me, is never innocent. (Taking their hands, he brings them together and kisses Rachel on the forehead.)
MISTRESS MERTON: (In a low voice.) Verily.
JUSTICE MERTON: My fair niece, my worthy young man, beware of witchcraft.
MISTRESS MERTON: And Goody rickby, brother?
JUSTICE MERTON: That woman shall answer for her deeds. She is proscribed.
RACHEL: Proscribed? What is that?
MISTRESS MERTON: She shall hang.
RACHEL: Uncle, no! Not merely because of my purchase this morning?
JUSTICE MERTON: Your purchase?
MISTRESS MERTON: (Pointing to the mirror.) That, I suppose?
JUSTICE MERTON: What! you purchased that mirror of her? You brought it here?
RACHEL: No, the boy brought it; I found it here when I returned.
JUSTICE MERTON: What! From her shop? From her infamous den, into my parlor! (To Mistress Merton.) Call the servant. Micah! Away with it! Micah!
RACHEL: Uncle Gilead, I bought --
JUSTICE MERTON: Micah, I say! Where is the man?
RACHEL: Listen, uncle. I bought it with my own money!
JUSTICE MERTON: Thine own money! Wilt have the neighbors gossip? Wilt have me, thyself, my house, suspected of complicity with witches? (Enter Micah.) Micah, take this away.
MICAH: Yes, sir; but, sir --
JUSTICE MERTON: Out of my house!
MICAH: There be visitors.
JUSTICE MERTON: Away with --
MISTRESS MERTON: (Touching his arm.) Gilead!
MICAH: Visitors, sir; gentry.
JUSTICE MERTON: Ah!
MICAH: Shall I show them in, sir?
JUSTICE MERTON: Visitors! In the morning? Who are they?
MICAH: Strangers, sir. I should judge they be very high gentry; lords, sir.
ALL: Lords!
MICAH: At least, one on 'em, sir. The other -- the dark gentleman -- told me they left their horses at the inn, sir.
MISTRESS MERTON: Hark! (The faces of all wear suddenly a startled expression.) Where is that unearthly sound?
JUSTICE MERTON: (Listening.) Is it in the cellar?
MICAH: 'Tis just the dog howling, madam. When he spied the gentry he turned tail and run below.
MISTRESS MERTON: Oh, the dog!
JUSTICE MERTON: Show the gentlemen here, Micah. Don't keep them waiting. A lord! (To Rachel.) We shall talk of this matter later. -- A lord! (Turning to the small glass on the wall, he arranges his peruke and attire.)
RACHEL: (To Richard.) What a fortunate interruption! But, dear Dick! I wish we needn't meet these strangers now.
RICHARD: Would you really rather we were alone together? (They chat aside, absorbed in each other.)
JUSTICE MERTON: Think of it, Cynthia, a lord!
MISTRESS MERTON: (Dusting the furniture hastily with her handkerchief.) And such dust!
RACHEL: (To Richard.) You know, dear, we need only be introduced, and then we can steal away together. (Reenter Micah.)
MICAH: (Announcing.) Lord Ravensbane: Marquis of Oxford,Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms, and Count of Cordova; Master Dickonson. (Enter Ravensbane and Dickon.)
JUSTICE MERTON: Gentlemen, permit me, you are excessively welcome. I am deeply gratified to meet --
DICKON: Lord Ravensbane, of the Rookeries, Somersetshire.
JUSTICE MERTON: Lord Ravensbane -- his lordship's most truly honored.
RAVENSBANE: Truly honored.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Turning to Dickon.) His lordship's -- ?
DICKON: Tutor.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Checking his effusiveness.) Ah, so!
DICKON: Justice Merton, I believe.
JUSTICE MERTON: Of Merton House. -- May I present -- permit me, your lordship -- my sister, Mistress Merton.
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Merton.
JUSTICE MERTON: And my -- my -- (Under his breath.) -- Rachel! (Rachel remains with a bored expression behind Richard.) -- my young neighbor, Squire Talbot, Squire Richard Talbot of -- of --
RICHARD: Of nowhere, sir.
RAVENSBANE: (Nods.) Nowhere.
JUSTICE MERTON: And permit me, Lord Ravensbane, my niece -- Mistress Rachel Merton.
RAVENSBANE: (Bows low.) Mistress Rachel Merton.
RACHEL: (Curtsies.) Your Lordship! (As they raise their heads, their eyes meet and are fascinated. Dickon just then takes Ravensbane's pipe and fills it.)
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel!
RACHEL: Your lordship! (Dickon returns the pipe.)
MISTRESS MERTON: A pipe! Gilead -- in the parlor!
JUSTICE MERTON: Your lordship -- ahem! -- has just arrived in town?
DICKON: From London, via New Amsterdam.
RICHARD (Aside.) Is he staring at you? Are you ill, Rachel?
RACHEL: (Indifferently.) What?
JUSTICE MERTON: Lord Ravensbane honors my humble roof.
DICKON: (Touches Ravensbane's arm.) Your lordship -- "roof."
RAVENSBANE: (Starting, turns to Merton.) Nay, sir, the roof of my father's oldest friend bestows generous hospitality upon his only son.
JUSTICE MERTON: Only son -- ah, yes! Your father --
RAVENSBANE: My father, I trust, sir, has never forgotten the intimate companionship, the touching devotion, the unceasing solicitude for his happiness which you, sir, manifested to him in the days of his youth.
JUSTICE MERTON: Really, your lordship, the -- the slight favors which -- hem! some years ago, I was privileged to show your illustrious father --
RAVENSBANE: Permit me! -- Because, however, of his present infirmities -- for I regret to say that my father is suffering a temporary aberration of mind --
JUSTICE MERTON: You distress me!
RAVENSBANE: My lady mother has charged me with a double mission here in New England. On my quitting my hone, sir, to explore the wideness and the mystery of this world, my mother bade me be sure to call upon his worship, the Justice Merton; and deliver to him, first my father's remembrances; and secondly, my mother's epistle.
DICKON: (Handing to Justice Merton a sealed document.) Her ladyship's letter, sir.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Examining the seal with awe, speaks aside to Mistress Merton.) Cynthia! -- a crested seal!
DICKON: His lordship's crest, sir: rooks rampant.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Embarrassed, breaks the seal.) Permit me.
RACHEL: (Looking at Ravensbane.) Have you noticed his bearing, Richard: what personal distinction! What inbred nobility! Every inch a true lord!
RICHARD: He may be a lord, my dear, but he walks like a broomstick.
RACHEL: How dare you! (Turns abruptly away; as she does so, a fold of her gown catches in a chair.)
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel -- permit me. (Stooping, he extricates the fold of her gown.)
RACHEL: Oh, thank you. (They go aside together.
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Dickon, glancing up from the letter.) ) I am astonished -- overpowered!
RICHARD: (To Mistress Merton.) So Lord Ravensbane and his family are old friends of yours?
MISTRESS MERTON: (Monosyllabically.) I never heard the name before, Richard.
RAVENSBANE: (To Rachel, taking her hand after a whisper from Dickon.) Believe me, sweet lady, it will give me the deepest pleasure.
RACHEL: Can you really tell fortunes?
RAVENSBANE: More that that; I can bestow them. (Ravensbane leads Rachel off, left, into an adjoining room, t eh door of which remains open. Richard follows them. Mistress Merton follows him, murmuring, "Richard!" Dickon stands where he can watch them in the room off scene, while he speaks to the Justice.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Dickon, glancing up from the letter.) I am astonished -- overpowered! But is her ladyship really serious? An offer of marriage!
DICKON: Pray read it again, sir.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Reads.) "To the Worshipful, the Justice Gilead Merton, Merton House: My Honorable Friend and Benefactor: With these brief lines I commend to you our son" -- our son!
DICKON: She speaks likewise for his young lordship's father, sir.
JUSTICE MERTON: Ah! of course. (Reads.) "In a strange land, I entrust him to you as to a father." Honored, believe me! "I have only to add my earnest hope that the natural gifts, graces, and inherited fortune" -- ah -- !
DICKON: Twenty thousand pounds -- on his father's demise.
JUSTICE MERTON: Ah! -- "fortune of this young scion of nobility will so propitiate the heart of your niece, Mistress Rachel Merton, as to cause her to accept his proffered hand in matrimony"; -- but -- but -- but Squire Talbot is betrothed to -- well, well, we shall see; -- "in matrimony, and thus cement the early bonds of interest and affection between your honored self and his lordship's father; not to mention, dear sir, your worship's ever grateful and obedient admirer, Elizabeth, Marchioness of R." Of R! of R.! Will you believe me, my dear sir, so long as it since my travels in England -- I visited at so many -- hem! noble estates -- permit me, it is so awkward, but --
DICKON: (With his peculiar intonation of Act I.) Not at all.
RAVENSBANE: (Calls from the adjoining room.) Dickon, my pipe! (Dickon glides away.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (Starting in perturbation. To Dickon.) Permit me, one moment; I did not catch your name.
DICKON: My name? Dickonson.
JUSTICE MERTON: (With a gasp of relief.) Ah, Dickonson! Thank you, I mistook the word.
DICKON: A compound, your worship. (With a malignant smile.) Dickon- (Then jerking his thumb toward the next room.) Son! (Bowing.) Both at your service.
JUSTICE MERTON: Is he -- he there?
DICKON: Bessie's brat; yes; it didn't die, after all, poor suckling! Dickon weaned it. Saved it for balm of Gilead. Raised it for joyful home-coming. Prodigal's return! Twenty-first birthday! Happy son! Happy father!
JUSTICE MERTON: My -- son!
DICKON: Felicitations.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Faintly.) What -- what do you want?
DICKON: Only the happiness of your dear ones -- the union of these young hearts and hands.
JUSTICE MERTON: What! he will dare -- an illegitimate --
DICKON: Fie, fie, Gilly! Why, the brat is a lord now.
JUSTICE MERTON: Oh, the disgrace! Spare me that,Dickon. And she is innocent; she is already betrothed.
DICKON: Twiddle-twaddle. 'Tis a brilliant match; besides, her ladyship's heart is set upon it.
JUSTICE MERTON: Her ladyship -- ?
DICKON: The Marchioness of Rickby.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Glowering.) rickby! -- I had forgotten.
DICKON: Her ladyship has never forgotten. So, you see, your worship's alternatives are most simple. Alternative one: advance his lordship's suit with your niece as speedily as possible, and save all scandal. Alternative two: impede his lordship's suit, and --
JUSTICE MERTON: Don't, Dickon! don't reveal the truth; not disgrace now!
DICKON: Good; we are agreed, then?
JUSTICE MERTON: I have no choice.
DICKON: (Cheerfully.) Why, true; we ignored that, didn't we?
MISTRESS MERTON: (Reentering.) This young lord -- Why, Gilead, are you ill?
JUSTICE MERTON: (With great effort commands himself.) Not in the least.
MISTRESS MERTON: Rachel's deportment, my dear brother -- I tell you, they are fortune-telling!
JUSTICE MERTON: Tush! Tush!
MISTRESS MERTON: Tush? "Tush" to me? Tush! (She goes out right. Ravensbane and Rachel reenter from the adjoining room, followed shortly by Richard.)
RACHEL: I am really at a loss. Your lordship's hand is so very peculiar.
RAVENSBANE: Ah! Peculiar.
RACHEL: This, now, is the line of life.
RAVENSBANE: Of life, yes?
RACHEL: But it begins so abruptly, and see! it breaks off and ends nowhere. And just so here with this line -- the line of -- of love.
RAVENSBANE: Of love. So; it breaks?
RACHEL: Yes.
RAVENSBANE: Ah, then, that must be the heart line.
RACHEL: Why,Lord Ravensbane, your pulse. Really, if I am cruel, you are quite heartless. I declare I can't feel your heart beat at all.
RAVENSBANE: Ah, mistress, that is because I have just lost it.
RACHEL: (Archly.) Where?
RAVENSBANE: (Faintly.) Dickon, my pipe!
RACHEL: Alas, my lord, are you ill?
DICKON: (Restoring the lighted pipe to Ravensbane, speaks aside.) Pardon me, sweet young lade, I must confide to you that his lordship's heart is peculiarly responsive to his emotions. When he feels very ardently, it quite stops, Hence the use of his pipe.
RACHEL: Oh! Is smoking, then, necessary for his heart?
DICKON: Absolutely -- to equilibrate the valvular palpitations. Without his pipe -- should his lordship experience, for instance, the emotion of love -- he might die.
RACHEL: You alarm me!
DICKON: But this is for you only, Mistress Rachel. We may confide in you?
RACHEL: Oh, utterly, sir.
DICKON: His lordship, you know, is so sensitive.
RAVENSBANE: (To Rachel.) You have given it back to me. Why did not you keep it?
RACHEL: What, my lord?
RAVENSBANE: My heart.
RICHARD: Intolerable! Do you approve of this, sir? Are Lord Ravensbane's credentials satisfactory?
JUSTICE MERTON: Eminently, eminently.
RICHARD: Ah! So her ladyship's letter is --
JUSTICE MERTON: Charming; charming. (To Ravensbane.) Your lordship will, I trust, make my house your home.
RAVENSBANE: My home, sir.
RACHEL: (To Dickon, who has spoken to her.) Really? (To Justice Merton. ) Why, uncle, what is this Master Dickonson tells us?
JUSTICE MERTON: What! What! he has revealed --
RACHEL: Yes, indeed.
JUSTICE MERTON: Rachel! Rachel!
RACHEL: (Laughingly to Ravensbane.) My uncle is doubtless astonished to find you so grown.
RAVENSBANE: (Laughingly to Justice Merton.) I am doubtless astonished, sir, to be so grown.
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Dickon.) You have --
DICKON: Merely remarked sir, that your worship had often dandled his lordship -- as an infant.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Smiling lugubriously.) Quite so -- as an infant merely.
RACHEL: How interesting! Then you must have seen his lordship's home in England.
JUSTICE MERTON: As you say.
RACHEL: (To Ravensbane.) Do describe it to us. We are so isolated here from the grand world. Do you know, I always imagine England to be an enchanted isle, like one of the old Hesperides, teeming with fruits of solid gold.
RAVENSBANE: Ah, yes! my mother raises them.
RACHEL: Fruits of gold?
RAVENSBANE: Round like the rising sun. She calls them -- ah! punkins.
MISTRESS MERTON: "Punkins"!
JUSTICE MERTON: (Aside, grinding his teeth.) Scoundrel! Scoundrel!
RACHEL: (Laughing.)Your lordship pokes fun at us.
DICKON: His lordship is an artist in words, mistress. I have noticed that in whatever country he is traveling, he tinges his vocabulary with the local idiom. His lordship means, of course, not pumpkins, but pomegranates.
RACHEL: We forgive him. But, your lordship, please be serious and describe to us your hall.
RAVENSBANE: Quite serious: the hall. Yes, yes; in the middle burns a great fire -- on a black -- ah! black altar.
DICKON: A Druidical heirloom. His lordship's mother collects antiques.
RACHEL: How fascinating!
RAVENSBANE: Fascinating! On the walls hang pieces of iron.
DICKON: Trophies of Saxon warfare.
RAVENSBANE: And rusty horseshoes.
GENERAL MURMURS: Horseshoes!
DICKON: Presents from the German Emperor. They were worn by the steeds of Charlemagne.
RAVENSBANE: Quite so; and broken cartwheels
DICKON: Relics of British chariots.
RACHEL: How mediaeval it must be (To Justice Merton.) And to think you never described it to us.
MISTRESS MERTON: True, brother; you have been singularly reticent.
JUSTICE MERTON: Permit me; it is impossible to report all one sees on one's travels.
MISTRESS MERTON:Evidently.
RACHEL: But surely your lordship's mother has other diversions besides collecting antiques. I have heard that in England ladies followed the hounds; and sometime -- (Looking at her aunt and lowering her voice.) --they even dance.
RAVENSBANE: Dance -- ah, yes; my lady mother dances about the -- the altar; she swings high a hammer.
DICKON: Your lordship, your lordship! Pray, sir, check this vein of poetry. Lord Ravensbane symbolizes as a hammer and altar a golf-stick and tee -- a Scottish game, which her ladyship plays on her Highland estates.
RICHARD: (To Mistress Merton.) What do you think of this?
MISTRESS MERTON: (With a scandalized look toward her brother.) He said to me "tush."
RICHARD: (To Justice Merton, indicating Dickon.) Who is this magpie?
JUSTICE MERTON: (Hisses in fury.) Satan!
RICHARD: I beg pardon!
JUSTICE MERTON: Satan, sir -- makes you jealous.
RICHARD: (Bows stiffly.) Good morning. (Walking up to Ravensbane.) Lord Ravensbane, I have a rustic colonial question to ask. Is it the latest fashion to smoke incessantly in ladies' parlors, or is it -- mediaeval?
DICKON: His lordship's health, sir, necessitates --
RICHARD: I addressed his lordship.
RAVENSBANE: In the matter of fashions, sir -- (Hands pipe to be refilled.) My pipe, Dickon! (While Dickon holds his pipe -- somewhat longer than usual -- Ravensbane, with his mouth open as if about to speak, relapses into a vacant stare.)
RICHARD: Well?
DICKON: (As he lights the pipe for Ravensbane, speaks suavely and low as if not to be overheard by him.) Pardon me. The fact is, my young pupil is sensitive; the wound from his latest duel is not quite healed; you observe a slight lameness, an occasional -- absence of mind.
RACHEL: A wound -- in a real duel?
DICKON: (Aside.) You, mistress, know the true reason -- his lordship's heart.
RICHARD: (To Ravensbane who is still staring vacantly into space.) Well, well, your lordship. ( Ravensbane pays no attention.) You were saying -- ? (Dickon returns the pipe.) -- in the matter of fashions, sir -- ?
RAVENSBANE: (Regaining slowly a look of intelligence, draws himself up with affronted hauteur.) Permit me! (Puffs several wreaths of smoke into the air.) I am the fashions.
RICHARD: (Going.) Insufferable! (He pauses at the door.)
MISTRESS MERTON: (To Justice Merton.) Well -- what do you think of that?
JUSTICE MERTON: Spoken like King Charles himself.
MISTRESS MERTON: Brother! brother! is there nothing wrong here?(Going out, she passes Dickon, starts at a look which he gives her, and goes out, right, flustered. Following her, Justice Merton is stopped by Dickon, and led off left by him.)
RACHEL: (To rAVENSBANE.)I -- object to the smoke? Why, I think it is charming.
RICHARD: (Who has returned from the door, speaks in a low, constrained voice. ) Rachel!
RACHEL: Oh! -- you?
RICHARD: You take quickly to European fashions.
RACHEL: Yes? To what one in particular?
RICHARD: Two; smoking and flirtation.
RACHEL: Jealous?
RICHARD: Of an idiot? I hope not. Manners differ, however. Your confidences to his lordship have evidently not included -- your relation to me.
RACHEL: Oh, our relations!
RICHARD: Of course, since you wish him to continue in ignorance --
RACHEL: Not at all. He shall know at once. Lord Ravensbane!
RAVENSBANE: Fair mistress!
RICHARD: Rachel, stop! I did not mean --
RACHEL: (To Ravensbane.) My uncle did not introduce to you with sufficient elaboration this gentleman. Will you allow me to do so now?
RAVENSBANE: I adore Mistress Rachel's elaborations.
RACHEL: Lord Ravensbane, I beg to present Squire Talbot, my betrothed.
RAVENSBANE: Betrothed! is it -- (Noticing Richard's frown.) -- is it pleasant?
RACHEL: (To Richard.) Are you satisfied?
RICHARD: (Trembling with feeling.) More than satisfied. (Exit.)
RAVENSBANE: (Looking after him.) Ah! Betrothed is not pleasant.
RACHEL: Not always.
RAVENSBANE: (Anxiously.) Mistress Rachel is not pleased?
RACHEL: (Biting her lip, looks after Richard.) With him.
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel will smile again?
RACHEL: Soon.
RAVENSBANE: (Ardent.) Ah! What can Lord Ravensbane do to make her smile? See! Will you puff my pipe? It is very pleasant. (Offering the pipe.)
RACHEL: (Smiling.) Shall I try? (Takes hold of it mischievously. Enter Justice Merton and Dickon, left.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (In a great voice.) Rachel!
RACHEL: Why, uncle!
JUSTICE MERTON: (Speaks suavely to Ravensbane.) Permit me, your lordship == Rachel, you will kindly withdraw for a few moments; I desire to confer with Lord Ravensbane concerning his mother's -- her ladyship's letter -- (Obsequiously to Dickon.) -- that is, if you think, sir, that your noble pupil is not too fatigued.
DICKON: Not at all; I think his lordship will listen to you with much pleasure.
RAVENSBANE: (Bowing to Justice Merton, but looking at Rachel.)
DICKON: And in the mean time, if Mistress Rachel will allow me, I will assist her in writing those invitations which your worship desires to send in her name.
JUSTICE MERTON: Invitations -- from my niece?
DICKON: To his Excellency, the Lieutenant-Governor; to your friends, the Reverend Masters at Harvard College, etc., etc.; in brief, to all your worship's select social acquaintance in the vicinity -- to meet his lordship. It was so thoughtful in you to suggest it, sir, and believe me, his lordship appreciates your courtesy in arranging the reception in his honor for this afternoon.
RACHEL: (To Justice Merton.) This afternoon? Are we really to give his lordship a reception? And will it be here, uncle?
DICKON: (Looking at him narrowly.) Your worship said here, I believe?
JUSTICE MERTON: Quite so, sir; quite so, quite so.
DICKON: Permit me to act as your scribe, Mistress Rachel.
RACHEL: With pleasure. (With a curtsy to Ravensbane.)m Till we meet again! (Exit, right.)
DICKON: (Aside to Justice Merton.) I advise nothing rash, Gilly; the brat has a weak heart. (Aside, as he passes Ravensbane.) Remember, Jack! Puff! Puff!
RAVENSBANE: (Staring at the door.) She is gone.
JUSTICE MERTON: Impostor! You, at least, shall not play the lord and master to my face.
RAVENSBANE: Quite -- gone!
JUSTICE MERTON: I know with whom I have to deal. If I be any judge of my own flesh and blood -- permit me -- you shall quail before me.
RAVENSBANE: (Dejectedly.) She did not smile -- (Joyously.) She smiled!
JUSTICE MERTON: Affected rogue! I know thee. I know thy feigned pauses, thy assumed vagaries. Speak; how much do you want?
RAVENSBANE: (Ecstatically.) Ah! Mistress Rachel!
JUSTICE MERTON: Her! Scoundrel, if thou dost name her again, my innocent -- my sweet maid! If thou dost -- thou godless spawn of temptation -- mark you, I will put an end -- (Reaching for a pistol that rests in a rack on the wall, -- the intervening form of Dickon suddenly appears, pockets the pistol, and exit.)
DICKON: I beg pardon; I forgot something.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Sinking into a chair.) God, Thou art just! (He holds his head in his hands and weeps.)
RAVENSBANE: (For the first time, since Rachel's departure, observing Merton. ) Permit me, sir, are you ill?
JUSTICE MERTON: (Recoiling.) What art thou?
RAVENSBANE: (Monotonously.) I am Lord Ravensbane: Marquis of Oxford, Baron of Wittenberg, Elector or Worms, and -- (As Justice Merton covers his face again.) shall I call Dickon? (Walking quickly toward the door, calls. ) Dickon!
JUSTICE MERTON: (Starting up.) No, do not call him. Tell me: I hate thee not; thou was innocent. Tell me! -- I thought thou hadst died as a babe, -- Where has Dickon, our tyrant, kept thee these twenty years?
RAVENSBANE: (With gently courtesy.) Master Dickonson is my tutor.
JUSTICE MERTON: And why has thy mother -- Ah, I know well; I deserve all. But yet, it must not be published now, an honored citizen -- and my young niece -- Thy mother will not demand so much.
RAVENSBANE: My mother is the Marchioness of Rickby.
JUSTICE MERTON: Yes, yes; 'twas well planned, a clever trick. 'Twas skillful of her. But surely thy mother gave thee commands to --
RAVENSBANE: My mother gave me her blessing.
JUSTICE MERTON: Ah, 'tis well, then. Young man, my son, I too will give thee my blessing, if thou wilt but go -- go instantly -- go with half my fortune -- but leave me my honor -- and my Rachel?
RAVENSBANE: Rachel? Rachel is yours? No, no, Mistress Rachel is mine. We are ours.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Pleadingly) Consider the disgrace -- you, an illegitimate -- and she -- oh, think what thou art!
RAVENSBANE: (Monotonously, puffing smoke at the end.) I am Lord Ravensbane: Marquis of Oxford, Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms, and Count --
JUSTICE MERTON: (Wrenching the pipe from Ravensbane's hand and lips) Devil's child! Boor! Buffoon! (Flinging the pipe away.) I will stand thy insults no longer. If thou has no heart--
RAVENSBANE: (Putting his hand to his side, staggers.) Ah! my heart!
JUSTICE MERTON: Hypocrite! Thou canst not fool me. I am thy father.
RAVENSBANE: (Faintly, stretches out his hand to him for support.) Father!
JUSTICE MERTON: Stand away. Thou mayst break thy heart and mine and the devil's, but thou shalt not break Rachel's
RAVENSBANE: (Faintly.) Mistress Rachel is mine -- (He staggers again, and falls, half reclining upon a chair. More faintly he speaks, beginning to change expression.) Her eyes are mine; her smiles are mine. (His eyes close.)
JUSTICE MERTON: Good God! Can it be -- his heart? (With agitated swiftness, he feels and listens at Ravensbane's side.) Not a motion; not a sound! Yea, God, Thou art good! 'Tis his heart. He is -- ah! he is my son. Judge Almighty, if he should die now; may I not be still a moment more and make sure? No, no, my son -- he is changing. (Calls.) Help! Help! Rachel! Master Dickonson! Help! Richard! Cynthia! Come hither! (Enter Dickon and Rachel.)
RACHEL: Uncle!
JUSTICE MERTON: Bring wine. Lord Ravensbane has fainted.
RACHEL: Oh! (Turning swiftly to go.) Micah, wine!
DICKON: (Detaining her.) Stay! His pipe! Where is his lordship's pipe?
RACHEL: Oh, terrible. (Enter, at different doors, Mistress Merton and Richard. )
MISTRESS MERTON: What's the matter?
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Rachel.) He threw it away. He is worse. Bring the wine.
MISTRESS MERTON: Look! How strange he appears!
RACHEL: (Searching distractedly.) The pipe! His lordship's pipe! It is lost, Master Dickonson
DICKON: (Stooping, as if searching, with his back turned, having picked up the pipe, is filling and lighting it.) It must be found. This is a heart attack, my friends; his lordship's life depends on the nicotine. (Deftly he places the pipe in Rachel's way.)
RACHEL: Thank God! Here it is. (Carrying it to the prostrate form of Ravensbane, she lifts his head and is about to put the pipe in his mouth.) Shall I -- shall I put it in?
RICHARD: No! not you.
RACHEL: Sir!
RICHARD: Let his tutor perform that office.
RACHEL: (Lifting Lord Ravensbane's head again.) My lord!
RICHARD AND JUSTICE MERTON: (Together.) Rachel!
DICKON: Pardon me, Mistress Rachel; give the pipe at once. Only a token of true affection can revive his lordship now.
RICHARD: (As Rachel puts the pipe to Ravensbane's lips.) I forbid it, Rachel.
RACHEL: (Watching only Ravensbane.) My lord -- my lord!
MISTRESS MERTON: Give him air; unbutton\ his coat. (Rachel unbuttons Ravensbane's coat, revealing the embroidered waistcoat.) Ah, Heavens! What do I see?
JUSTICE MERTON: (Looks, blanches, and signs silence to Mistress Merton.) Cynthia!
MISTRESS MERTON: (Aside to Justice Merton, with deep intensity.) That waistcoat! that waistcoat! Brother, hast thou never seen it before?
JUSTICE MERTON: Never, my sister.
DICKON: See! He puffs -- he revives. He is coming to himself.
RACHEL: (As Ravensbane rises to his feet.) At last!
DICKON: Look! he is restored.
RACHEL: My lord, Mistress Rachel has saved your life.
RAVENSBANE: (Looking at Rachel.) Her eyes are mine.
RICHARD: (Flinging his glove in his face.) And that, sir, is yours.
RACHEL: Richard!
RICHARD: I believe such is the proper fashion in England. If your lordship's last dueling wound is sufficiently healed, perhaps you will deign a reply.
RACHEL: Richard! Your lordship!
RAVENSBANE: (Stoops, picks up the glove, pockets it, bows to Rachel, and steps close to Richard.) Permit me! (He blows a puff of smoke full in Richard's face.)

CURTAIN

ACT III

Late afternoon, the same day. The same scene as Act II. Ravensbane and Dickon are seated at the table, on which are lying two flails. Ravensbane is dressed in a costume which, composed of silk and jewels, subtly approximates in design to that of his original grosser composition. So artfully, however, is this contrived that, to one ignorant of his origin, his dress would appear to be merely an odd personal whimsy; whereas, to one initiated it would stamp him grotesquely as the apotheosis of scarecrows. Dickon is sitting in a pedagogical attitude; Ravensbane stands near him, making a profound bow in the opposite direction.

RAVENSBANE: Believe me, ladies, with the true sincerity of the heart.
DICKON: Inflection a little more lachrymose, please : "The true" sincerity of the heart."
RAVENSBANE: Believe me, ladies, with the true sincerity of the heart.
DICKON: Prettily, prettily! Next!
RAVENSBANE: (Changing his mien, as if addressing another person.) Verily, sir, as that prince of poets, the immortal Virgil, has remarked: -- "Adeo in teneris consuescere multim est."
DICKON: Basta! The next.
RAVENSBANE: (With another change to courtly manner.) Trust me, your Excellency, I will inform his Majesty of your courtesy.
DICKON: "His Majesty" more emphatic. Remember! You must impress all of your guests this afternoon. But continue Cobby, dear; the retort now to the challenge!
RAVENSBANE: (With a superb air.) The second, I believe.
DICKON: Quite so, my lord.
RAVENSBANE: Sir! the local person whom you represent has done himself the honor of submitting to me a challenge to mortal combat. Sir! Since the remotest times of my feudal ancestors, in such affairs of honor, choice of weapons has ever been the --
DICKON: Prerogative!
RAVENSBANE: Prerogative of the challenged. Sir! The right of etiquette must be observed. Nevertheless, believe me, I have no selfish desire that my superior --
DICKON: Attainments!
RAVENSBANE: Attainments in this art should assume advantage over my challenger's ignorance. I have, therefore chosen those combative utensils most appropriate both to his own humble origin and to local tradition. Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice. (Pointing grandly to the table.) There are my weapons.
DICKON: Delicious! O thou exquisite flower of love! How thy natal composites have burst in bloom! -- The pumpkin in thee to a golden collarette; thy mop of crow's wings to these raven locks; thy broomstick to a lordly limp; thy corn-silk to these pale-tinted tassels. Verily in the gallery of scarecrows, thou are the Apollo Belvedere!
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel -- I may see her now?
DICKON: Romeo! Romeo! Was ever such an amorous puppet show!
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel!
DICKON: Wait; let me think! Thou art wound up now, my pretty apparatus, for at least six-and-thirty hours. The wooden angel Gabriel that trumpets the hours on the big clock in Venice is not a more punctual manikin than thou with m y speeches. Thou shouldst run, therefore, --
RAVENSBANE: (Frowning darkly at Dickon.) Stop talking; permit me! A tutor should know his place.
DICKON: (Rubbing his hands.) Nay, your lordship is beyond comparison.
RAVENSBANE: (In a terrible voice.) She will come? I shall see her? (Enter Micah.)
MICAH: Pardon, my lord.
RAVENSBANE: (Turning joyfully to Micah.) Is it she?
MICAH: Captain Bugby, my lord, the Governor's secretary.
DICKON: Good. Squire Talbot's second. Show him in.
RAVENSBANE: (Flinging despairingly into a chair.) Ah! ah!
MICAH: (Lifting flails from the table.) Beg pardon, sir; shall I remove --
DICKON: Drop them; go.
MICAH: But, sir --
DICKON: Go, thou slave! (Exit Micah. Dickon hands Ravensbane a book.) Here, my lord; read. You must be found reading.
RAVENSBANE: (In childlike despair.) She will not come! I shall not see her! (Throwing the book into the fireplace.) She does not come!
DICKON: Fie, fie, Jack; thou must not be breaking thy Dickon's apron-strings with a will of thine own. Come!
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel --
DICKON: Be good, boy, and thou shalt see her soon. (Enter Captain Bugby.) Your lordship was saying -- Oh! Captain Bugby?
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Nervous and awed.) Captain Bugby, sir, ah! at Lord Ravensbane's service -- ah!
DICKON: I am Master Dickonson, his lordship's tutor.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Happy, sir.
DICKON: (To Ravensbane.) My lord, this gentleman waits upon you from Squire Talbot. (To Captain Bugby.) In regard to the challenge this morning, I presume?
CAPTAIN BUGBY: The affair, ah! the affair of this morning, sir.
RAVENSBANE: (With his former superb air -- to Captain Bugby.) The second, I believe?
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Quite so, my lord.
RAVENSBANE: Sir! the local person whom you represent has done himself the honor of submitting to me a challenge to mortal combat. Sir! Since the remotest times of my feudal ancestors, in such affairs of honor, choice of weapons has ever been the pre-pre- (Dickon looks at him intensely. )prerogative of the challenged. Sir! The right of etiquette must be observed.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Indeed, yes, my lord.
DICKON: Pray do not interrupt. (To Ravensbane.) Your lordship: "observed."
RAVENSBANE: -- observed. Nevertheless, believe me, I have no selfish desire that my superior a-a-at-attainments in this art should assume advantage over my challenger's ignorance. I have, therefore chosen those combative utensils most appropriate both to his own humble origin and to local tradition. Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice. (Pointing to the table.) There are my weapons.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Looking bewildered.) These, my lord?
RAVENSBANE: Those.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: But these are -- are flails.
RAVENSBANE: Flails.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Flails, my lord? -- Do I understand that your lordship and Squire Talbot -- (Dickon's intense glance focusses on Ravensbane's face with the faintest of smiles.)
RAVENSBANE: My adversary should be deft in their use. He has doubtless wielded them frequently on his barn floor.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Ahaha! I understand now. Your lordship -- ah! is a wit. Haha! Flails!
DICKON: His lordship's satire is poignant.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Indeed, sir, so keen that I must apologize for laughing at my principal's expense. But -- (Soberly to Ravensbane.) -- my lord, if you will deign to speak one moment seriously --
RAVENSBANE: Seriously?
CAPTAIN BUGBY: I will take pleasure in informing Squire Talbot -- ah! as to your real preference for --
RAVENSBANE: For flails, sir. I have, permit me, nothing further to say. Flails are final. (Turns away haughtily.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Eh! What! Must I really report -- ?
DICKON: Lord Ravensbane's will is inflexible.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: And his wit, sir, incomparable. I am sorry for the Squire, but 't will be the greatest joke in years. Ah! will you tell me -- is it -- (Indicating Ravensbane's smoking.) -- is it the latest fashion?
DICKON: Lord Ravensbane is always the latest.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Obliged servant, sir. Aha! Such a joke as -- O, Lord! flails. (Exit.)
DICKON: (Gaily to Ravensbane.) Bravo, my pumpky dear! That squelches the jealous betrothed. Now nothing remains but for you to continue to dazzle the enamored Rachel, and so present yourself to the Justice as a pseudo-son-nephew-in-law.
RAVENSBANE: I may go to Mistress Rachel?
DICKON: She will come to you. She is reading now a poem from you, which I left on her dressing table.
RAVENSBANE: She is reading a poem from me?
DICKON: With your pardon, my lord, I penned it for you. I am something of a poetaster. Indeed, I flatter myself that I have dictated some of the finest lines in literature.
RAVENSBANE: Dickon! She will come?
DICKON: She comes! (Enter Rachel, reading from a piece of paper. Dickon draws Ravensbane back.)
RACHEL: (Reads.) "To Mistress R --, enchantress! --

(Dickon goes out.) "To Mistress R --, enchantress:" R! It must be. R -- must mean --
RAVENSBANE: (With passionate deference.) RAchel!
RACHEL: Ah! How you surprised me, my lord.
RAVENSBANE: You are come again; you are come again.
RACHEL: Has anything happened? Oh, my lord, I have been in such terror. Promise me that there shall be -- no -- duel!
RAVENSBANE: No duel.
RACHEL: Oh, I am so gratefully happy!
RAVENSBANE: I know I am only a thing to make Mistress Rachel happy. Ah! look at me once more. When you look at me, I live.
RACHEL: It is strange, indeed, my lord, how familiar world, the daylight, the heavens themselves have changed since your arrival.
RAVENSBANE: This is the world; this is the light; this is the heavens themselves. Mistress Rachel is looking at me.
RACHEL: For me, it is less strange, perhaps. I never saw a real lord before! But you, my lord, must have seen so many, many girls in the great world.
RAVENSBANE: NO, no; never.
RACHEL: NO other girls before today, my lord!
RAVENSBANE: Before today? I do not know; I do not care. I was not -- here. Today I was born -- in your eyes. Ah! My brain whirls!
RACHEL: (Smiling.)

RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel, come! Let us go and count five crows.
RACHEL: (Delightedly.) Why, my lord, how did you ever learn it? I got if from an old goody here in town -- a real witch-wife. If you will promise not to tell a secret, I will show you -- But you must promise!
RAVENSBANE: I promise.
RACHEL: Come, then. I will show you a real piece of witchcraft that I bought from her this morning -- the glass of truth. There! Behind that curtain. If you look in, you will see -- But come; I will show you. (They put their hands on the cords of the curtain.) Just pull that string, and -- ah!
DICKON: (Stepping out through the curtain.) My lord, your pipe.
RACHEL: Master Dickinson, how you frightened me!
DICKON: So excessively sorry!
RACHEL: But how did you -- ?
DICKON: I believe you were showing his lordship --
RACHEL: (Turning hurriedly away.) Oh, nothing; nothing at all.
RAVENSBANE: (Sternly to Dickon.) Why do you come?
DICKON: (Handing back Ravensbane's pipe, filled.) Allow me. (Aside.) 'Tis high time you came to the point, Jack, 'tis near your lordship's reception. Woo and win, boy; woo and win.
RAVENSBANE: (Haughtily.) Leave me.
DICKON: Your lordship's humble, very humble. (Exit.)
RACHEL: (shivering.) Why DO YOU KEEP THIS MAN?
RAVENSBANE: I -- keep this man?
RACHEL: Pardon my rudeness -- I cannot endure him.
RAVENSBANE: You do not like him? Ah then, I do not like him also. We will send him away -- you and I.
RACHEL: You, my lord, of course; but I --
RAVENSBANE: You will be Dickon! You will be with me always and light my pipe. And I will live for you, and fight for you, and kill your betrothed!
RACHEL: (Drawing away.) No, no!
RAVENSBANE: Ah! but your eyes say "yes." Mistress Rachel leaves me; but Rachel in her eyes remains. Is it not so?
RACHEL: What can I say, my lord? It is true that since my eyes met yours, a new passion has entered into my soul. I have felt -- but 'tis so impertinent, my lord, so absurd in me, a mere girl, and you a nobleman of power -- yet I have felt it irresistibly,my dear lord, -- a longing to help you. I am so sorry for you -- so sorry for you! I pity you deeply. -- Forgive me; forgive me, my lord.
RAVENSBANE: It is enough.
RACHEL: Indeed, indeed. 'tis so rude of me, -- 'tis so unreasonable.
RAVENSBANE: It is enough. I grow -- I grow -- I grow! I am a plant; you give it rain and sun. I am a flower; you give it light and dew. I am a soul, you give it love and speech. I grow. Toward you -- toward you I grow!
RACHEL: MY lord, I do not understand it, how so poor and mere a girl as I can have helped you. Yet I do believe it is so; for I feel it so. What can I do for you?
RAVENSBANE: Be mine. Let me be yours.
RACHEL: But, my lord -- do I love you?
RAVENSBANE: What is "I love you"? is it a kiss, a sigh, an embrace? Ah! then, you do not love me. -- "I love you": is it to nourish, to nestle, to lift up, to smile upon, to make greater -- a worm? Ah! then, you love me. (Enter Richard at left back, unobserved.)
RACHEL: Do not speak so of yourself, my lord; nor exalt me so falsely.
RAVENSBANE: Be mine.
RACHEL: A great glory has descended upon this day.
RAVENSBANE: Be mine.
RACHEL: Could I but be sure that this glory is love -- Oh, then! (Turns toward Ravensbane.)
RICHARD: (Stepping between them. ) It is not love; it is witchcraft.
RACHEL: Who are you? -- Richard?
RICHARD: You have, indeed, forgotten me? Would to God, Rachel, I could forget you.
RAVENSBANE: Ah, permit me, sir --
RICHARD: Silence! (To Rachel.) Against my will, I am a convert to your own mysticism; for nothing less than damnable illusion could so instantly wean your heart from me to -- this. I do not pretend to understand it; but that it is witchcraft I am convinced; and I will save you from it.
RACHEL: Go; please go.
RAVENSBANE: Permit me, sir; you have not replied yet to flails.
RICHARD: Permit me, sir. (Taking something from his coat.) My answer is -- bare cob! (Holding out a shelled corncob.) Thresh this, sir, for your antagonist. 'Tis the only one worthy your lordship. (Tosses it contemptuously toward him.)
RAVENSBANE: Upon my honor as a man --
RICHARD: As a man, forsooth! Were you, indeed, a man, Lord Ravensbane, I would have accepted your weapons, and flailed you out of New England. But it is not my custom to chastise runagates from asylums, or to banter further words with a natural and a ninny.
RACHEL: Squire Talbot! Will you leave my uncle's house?
RAVENSBANE: One moment, mistress: -- I did not wholly catch the import of this gentleman's speech, but I fancy I have insulted him by my reply to his challenge. One insult may perhaps be remedied by another. Sir, permit me to call you a ninny, and to offer you -- (Drawing his sword and offering it.) -- swords.
RICHARD: Thanks; I reject the offer.
RAVENSBANE: (Turning away despondently.) He rejects it. Well!
RACHEL: (To Richard.) And now will you leave me?
RICHARD: At once. But one word more. Rachel -- Rachel, have you forgotten this morning and the Glass of Truth?
RACHEL: (Coldly.) No.
RICHARD: Call it a fancy now if you will. I scoffed at it; yes. Yet you believed it. I loved you truly, you said. Well, have I changed?
RACHEL: Yes.
RICHARD: Will you test me again -- in the glass?
RACHEL: No. Go; leave us.
RICHARD: I will go. I have still a word with your aunt.
RAVENSBANE: (To Richard.) I beg your pardon, sir. You said just now that had I been a man --
RICHARD: I say, Lord Ravensbane, that the straight fiber of a true man never warps the love of a woman. As for yourself, you have my contempt and pity. Pray to God, sir, pray to God to make you a man. (Exit.)
RACHEL: Oh! it is intolerable! (To Ravensbane.) My dear lord, I do believe in my heart that I love you, and if so, I will with gratitude be your wife. But, my lord, strange glamors, strange darknesses reel, and bewilder my mind. I must be alone; I must think and decide. Will you give me the is tassel?
RAVENSBANE: (Unfastening a silk tassel from his coat and giving it to her.)
RACHEL: If I decide that I love you, that I will be your wife -- I will wear it this afternoon at the reception. Good-bye. (Exit, right.)
RAVENSBANE: Mistress Rachel! -- (He is left alone. As he looks about gropingly, and raises his arms in vague prayer, Dickon appears from the right and watches him with a smile.) God, are you here? Dear God, I pray to you -- make me to be a man! (Exit, left.)
DICKON: Poor Jacky! Thou should'st 'a' prayed to t'other one. (Enter, right, Justice Merton.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Dickon.) Will you not listen? Will you not listen?
DICKON: Such a delightful room!
JUSTICE MERTON: Are you merciless?
DICKON: And such a living portrait of your worship! The waistcoat is so beautifully executed.
JUSTICE MERTON: If I pay him ten thousand pounds -- (Enter, right, Mistress Merton, who goes toward the table. Enter, left, Micah.)
MISTRESS MERTON: Flails! Flails in the parlor!
MICAH: The minister and his wife have turned into the gate, madam.
MISTRESS MERTON: The guests! Is it so late?
MICAH: Four o'clock, madam.
MISTRESS MERTON: Remove these things at once.
MICAH: Yes, madam. (He lifts them, and starts for the door where he pauses to look back and speak.) Madam, in all my past years of service at Merton House, I never waited upon a lord till today. Madam, in ally my future years of service at Merton House, I trust I may never wait upon a lord again.
MISTRESS MERTON: Micah, mind the knocker.
MICAH: Yes, madam. (Exit at left back. Sounds of a brass knocker outside.)
MISTRESS MERTON: Rachel! Rachel! (Exit, left.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (To Dickon.) So you are contented with nothing less than the sacrifice of my niece! (Enter Micah.)
MICAH: Minister Dodge, your Worship; and Mistress Dodge. (Exit.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (Stepping forward to receive them.) Believe me, this is a great privilege. -- Madam! (Bowing.)
MINISTER DODGE: (Taking his hand.) The privilege is ours, Justice; to enter a righteous man's house is to stand, as it were, on God's threshold.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Nervously.) Amen, amen. Permit me -- ah! Lord Ravensbane, my young guest of honor, will be here directly -- permit me to present his lordship's tutor, Master Dickonson; the Reverend Master Dodge, Mistress Dodge.
MINISTER DODGE: (Offering his hand.) Master Dickonson, sir --
DICKON: (Barely touching the minister's fingers; bows charmingly to his wife.) Madam, of all professions in the world, your husband's most allures me.
MISTRESS DODGE: 'Tis a worthy one, sir.
DICKON: Ah, Mistress Dodge, and so arduous -- especially for a minister's wife. (He leads her to a chair.)
MISTRESS DODGE: (Accepting the chair.) Thank you.
MINISTER DODGE: Lord Ravensbane comes from abroad?
JUSTICE MERTON: From London.
MINISTER DODGE: An old friend of yours, I understand.
JUSTICE MERTON: From London, yes. Did I say London? Quite so; from London. (Enter MIcah.)
MICAH: Captain Bugby, the Governor's secretary. (Exit. Enter Captain Bugby. He walks with a slight lameness and holds daintily in his hand a pipe, from which he puffs with dandy deliberation.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Justice Merton, your very humble servant.
JUSTICE MERTON: Believe me, Captain Bugby.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Profusely.) Ah, Master Dickonson! my dear friend Master Dickonson -- this is, indeed, -- ah! How is his lordship since -- aha! but discretion! Mistress Dodge -- her servant! Ah! yes -- (Indicating his pipe with a smile of satisfaction.) -- the latest. I assure you; the very latest from London.
MINISTER DODGE: (Looking at Captain Bugby.) These will hatch out in the springtime.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Confidentially to Dickon.) But really, my good friend, may not I venture to inquire how his lordship -- ah! has been in health since the -- ah! since --
DICKON: (Impressively.) Oh! quite, quite! (Enter Mistress Merton; she joins Justice Merton and Minister Dodge.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: You know, I informed Squire Talbot of his lordship's epigrammatic retort -- his retort of -- shh! ha haha! Oh, that reply was a stiletto; 'twas sharper than a sword-thrust, I assure you. To have conceived it -- 'twas inspiration; but to have expressed it -- oh! 'twas genius. Hush! "Flails"! Oh! It sticks me now in the ribs. I sahll die with concealing it.
MINISTER DODGE: (To Mistress Merton.)'Tis true, mistress; but if there were more like; your brother in he parish, the conscience of the community would be clearer. (Enter Micah.)
MICAH: The Reverend Master Rand of Harvard College; the Reverend Master Todd of Harvard College. (Exit. Enter two elderly, straight-laced divines. )
JUSTICE MERTON: (Greeting them.) Permit me, gentlemen; this is fortunate -- before your return to Cambridge. (He conducts them to Mistress Merton and Minister Dodge. Dickon is ingratiating himself with Mistress Dodge; Captain Bugby, laughed at by both parties, is received by neither.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Puffing smoke toward the ceiling.) Really I cannot understand what keeps his Excellency, the Lieutenant Governor, so long. He has two such charming daughters, Master Dickonson. --
DICKON: (To Mistress Dodge.) Yes, yes; such suspicious women with their charms are an insult to the virtuous ladies of the parish.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: How, sir!
MISTRESS DODGE: And to think that she should actually shoe horses herself!
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Piqued, walks another way.)
REV. MASTER RAND: (To Justice Merton.) It would not be countenanced in the college yard, sir.
REV. MASTER TODD: A pipe! Nay, mores inhibitae!
JUSTICE MERTON: 'Tis most unfortunate, gentlemen; but I understand 'tis the new vogue in London. (Enter Micah.)
MICAH: His Excellency,Sir Charles Reddington, Lieutenant Governor; the Mistress Reddingtons.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: At last!
MISTRESS MERTON: (Aside.) Micah. (Micah goes to her. Enter Sir Charles, Mistress Reddington, and Amelia Reddington.)
JUSTICE MERTON: Your Excellency, this is, indeed, a distinguished honor.
SIR CHARLES: (Shaking hands.) Fine weather, Merton. Where's your young lord?
THE TWO GIRLS: (Curtsying.) Justice Merton, Mistress Merton. (Micah goes out.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Oh, my dear Mistress Reddington! Charming Mistress Amelia! You are so very late, but you shall hear -- hush!
MISTRESS REDDINGTON: (Noticing his pipe.) Why, what is this, Captain?
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Oh, the latest, I assure you, the very latest. Wait till you see his lordship.
AMELIA: What! isn't he here? (Laughing.) La, Captain! Do you look at the man.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: OH, he's coming directly. Quite the mode -- what? (He takes them aside, where they titter.)
SIR CHARLES: (To Dickon.) What say? Traveling for his health?
DICKON: Partially, your Excellency; but my young pupil and master is a singularly affectionate nature.
THE TWO GIRLS: (To Captain Bugby.) What! flails -- really! (They burst into laughter among themselves.)
DICKON: He has journeyed here to Massachusetts peculiarly to pay this visit to Justice Merton -- his father's dearest friend.
SIR CHARLES: Ah! knew him abroad, eh?
DICKON: In Rome, your Excellency.
MISTRESS DODGE: (To Justice Merton.) Why, I thought it was in London.
JUSTICE MERTON: London, true, quite so; we made a trip together to Lisbon -- ah! Rome.
DICKON: Paris, was it not, sir?
JUSTICE MERTON: (In great distress.) Paris, Paris, very true; I am -- I am -- sometimes I am -- (Enter Micah, right.)
MICAH: (Announces.) Lord Ravensbane. (Enter right, Ravensbane with Rachel.)
JUSTICE MERTON: (With a gasp of relief.) Ah! his lordship is arrived. (Murmurs of "his lordship" and a flutter among the girls and Captain Bugby.)
CAPTAIN BUGBY: Look! -- Now!
JUSTICE MERTON: Welcome, my lord! (To Sir Charles.) Your Excellency, let me introduce -- permit me --
RAVENSBANE: Permit me; (Addressing her.) Mistress Rachel! -- Mistress Rachel will introduce --
RACHEL: (Curtsying.) Sir Charles, allow me to present my friend, Lord Ravensbane.
MISTRESS REDDINGTON: (Aside to Amelia.) Her friend -- did you hear?
SIR CHARLES: Mistress Rachel, I see you are as pretty as ever. Lord Ravensbane, your hand, sir.
RAVENSBANE: Trust me, your Excellency, I will inform his Majesty of your courtesy.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: (Watching Ravensbane with chagrin.) On my life! he's lost his limp.
RAVENSBANE: (Apart to Rachel.) You said: "A great glory has descended upon this day."
RACHEL: (Shyly.) My lord!
RAVENSBANE: Be sure -- O mistress, be sure -- that this glory is love.
SIR CHARLES: My daughters, Fanny and Amelia -- Lord Ravensbane.
THE TWO GIRLS: (Curtsying.) Your lordship.
SIR CHARLES: Good girls, but silly.
THE TWO GIRLS: Papa!
RAVENSBANE: Believe me, ladies, with the true sincerity of the heart.
MISTRESS REDDINGTON: Isn't he perfection!
CAPTAIN BUGBY: What said I?
AMELIA: (Giggling.) I can't help thinking of flails.
SIR CHARLES: (In a loud whisper aside to Justice Merton.) Is it congratulations for your niece?
JUSTICE MERTON: Not -- not precisely.
DICKON: (To Justice Merton.) Your worship -- a word. (Leads him aside.)
RAVENSBANE: (Whom Rachel continues to introduce to the guests, speaks to Master Rand.) Verily, sir, as that prince of poets, the immortal Virgil, has remarked:

REV. MASTER TODD: His lordship is evidently a university man.
REV. MASTER RAND: Evidently most accomplished.
JUSTICE MERTON: (Aside to Dickon.) A song! Why, it is beyond all bounds of custom and decorum.
DICKON: Believe me, there is no such flatterer to win the maiden heart as music.
JUSTICE: And here; in this presence! Never!
DICKON: Nevertheless, it will amuse me vastly, and you will announce it.
JUSTICE MERTON: (With hesitant embarrassment, which he seeks to conceal.) Your Excellency and friends, I have great pleasure in announcing his lordship's condescension in consenting to regale our present company -- with a song.
SEVERAL VOICES: (In various degrees of amazement and curiosity.) A song!
MISTRESS MERTON: Gilead! What is this?
JUSTICE MERTON: The selection is a German ballad -- a particular favorite at the court of Prussia, where his lordship last rendered it. His tutor has made a translation which is entitled --
DICKON: "The Prognostication of the Crows."
ALL: Crows!
JUSTICE MERTON: And I requested to remind you that in the ancient heathen mythology of Germany, the crow or raven was the fateful bird of the god Woden.
CAPTAIN BUGBY: How prodigiously novel!
MINISTER DODGE: (Frowning.) Unparalleled!
SIR CHARLES: A ballad! Come now, that sounds like old England again. Let's have it. Will his lordship sing without music?
JUSTICE MERTON: Master Dickonson, hem! has been -- persuaded -- to accompany his lordship on the spinet.
AMELIA: How delightful!
REV. MASTER RAND: (Aside to Todd.) Shall we remain?
REV. MASTER TODD: We must.
RAVENSBANE: (To Rachel.) My tassel, dear mistress; you do not wear it?
RACHEL: My heart still wavers, my lord. But whilst you sing, I will decide.
RAVENSBANE: Whilst I sing? My fate, then, is waiting at the end of a song?
RACHEL: At the end of a song.
DICKON: (Calling to Ravensbane.) Your lordship!
RAVENSBANE: (Starting, turns to the company.) Permit me. (Dickon sits at the spinet. At first, his fingers in playing give sound only to the soft tinkling notes of that ancient instrument; but gradually, strange notes and harmonies of an aerial orchestra mingle with, and at length drown, the spinet. The final chorus is produced solely by fantastic symphonic cawings, as of countless crows, in harsh but musical accord. During the song Richard enters. Dickon's music, however, does not cease but fills the intervals between verses. To his accompaniment, amid the whispered and gradually increasing wonder, resentment, and dismay of the assembled guests, Ravensbane, with his eyes fixed upon Rachel,s sings)

(The guests rise in confusion. Dickon still plays delightedly,a and the strange music continues.)
MINISTER DODGE: This is no longer godly. -- Justice Merton! Justice Merton, sir! --
RAVENSBANE: (To Rachel, who holds his tassel in her hand.) Ah! and you have my tassel!
RACHEL: See! I will wear it now. You yourself shall fasten it.
RAVENSBANE: Rachel! Mistress!
RACHEL: My dear lord! (As Ravensbane is placing the silken tassel on Rachel's breast to fasten it there,Richard, by the mirror, takes hold of the curtain strings.)
RICHARD: I told you -- witchcraft, like murder will out! Lovers! Behold yourselves! (He pulls the curtain back.)
RACHEL: (Looking into the glass, screams and turns her gaze fearfully upon Ravensbane.) Ah! Do not look!
DICKON: (Who, having turned round from the spinet, has leaped forward, how turns back again, biting his finger.) Too late! (In the glass are reflected the figures of Rachel and Ravensbane -- Rachel just as she herself appears, but Ravensbane in his essential form of a scarecrow, in every movement reflecting Ravensbane's motions. The thing in the glass is about to pin a wisp of corn-silk o the mirrored breast of the maiden.)
RAVENSBANE: What is there?
RACHEL: (Looking again, starts away from Ravensbane.) Leave me! Leave me! -- Richard! (She faints in Richard's arms.)
RAVENSBANE: Fear not, mistress, I will kill the thing. (Drawing his sword, he rushes at the glass. Within, the scarecrow, with a drawn wheel-spoke, approaches him at equal speed. They come face to face and recoil.) Ah! ah! Fear's thou me? What art thou? Why, 'tis a glass. Thou cockiest me? Look, look, mistress, it mocks me! O God, no! no! Take it away. Dear God, do not look! -- It is I!
ALL: (Rushing to the doors.) Witchcraft! Witchcraft! (As Ravensbane stands frantically confronting his abject reflection, struck in a like posture of despair for the: )

CURTAIN

ACT IV

The scene is the same, but it is night. The moon, shining in broadly at the window, discovers Ravensbane alone, prostrate before the mirror. Raised on one arm to a half-sitting posture, he gazes fixedly at the vaguely seen image of the scarecrow prostrate in the glass.

RAVENSBANE: All have left me -- but not thou. Rachel has left me; her eyes have turned away from me; she is gone. All that I loved, all that loved me, have left me. A thousand ages -- a thousand ages ago, they went away and thou and I have gazed upon each other's desertness. Speak! and be pitiful! If thou art I, inscrutable image, if thou dost feel these pangs thine own, show then self-mercy; speak! what art thou? What am I? Why are we here? How comes it that we feel and guess and suffer? Nay, though thou answer not these doubts, yet mock them, mock them aloud, even as there, monstrous, thou conterfeitest mine actions. Speak, abject enigma! -- Speak, poor shadow, thou -- (Recoiling wildly.) Stand back, inanity! Thrust not thy mawkish face in pity toward me. Ape and idiot! Scarecrow! -- to console me! Haha! -- A flail and broomstick! a cob, a gourd and pumpkin, to fuse and sublimate, themselves into a mage-philosopher, who discourseth metaphysics to itself -- itself, God! Dost Thou hear? Itself! For even such am I -- I whom Thou madest to love Rachel. Why, God -- haha! dost Thou dwell in this thing? Is it Thout that peerest forth at me -- from me? Why, hark then; Thou shalt listen, and answer -- if Thou canst. Between the rise and setting of a sun, I have walked in this world of Thine. I have been thrilled with wonder; I have been calmed with knowledge; I have trembled with joy and passion. Power, beauty, love have ravished me. Infinity itself, like a dream, has blazed before me with the certitude of prophecy; and I have cried, "This world, the heavens time itself, are mine to conquer," and I have thrust forth mine arm to wear Thy shield forever -- and lo! for my shield Thou reachest me -- a mirror, and whisperest: "Know thyself! Thou are -- a scarecrow: a tinkling clod, a rigmarole of dust, a lump of ordure, contemptible, superfluous, inane!" Haha! Hahaha! And with such scarecrows Thou dost people a planet! O ludicrous! Monstrous! Ludicrous! At least, I thank Thee, God! at least this breathing bathos can laugh at itself. Thou has vouchsafed to me, Spirit -- hahaha! -- to know myself. Mine, mine is the consummation of man -- even self-contempt! (Pointing to the glass with an agony of derision.) Scarecrow! Scarecrow! Scarecrow!
THE IMAGE IN THE GLASS: (More and more faintly.) Scarecrow! Scarecrow! Scarecrow! (RAvensbane throws himself prone upon the floor, beneath the window, sobbing. There is a pause of silence, and the moon shines brighter. -- Slowly then Ravensbane, getting to his knees, looks out into the night.)
RAVENSBANE: What face are you, high up through the twinkling leaves? Do you not, like all the rest, turn, aghast, your eyes away from me -- me, abject enormity, groveling at your feet? Gracious being, do you not fear -- despise me? O white peace of the world, beneath your gaze the clouds glow silver, and the herded cattle, slumbering far afield, crouch -- beautiful. The slough shines lustrous as a bridal veil. Beautiful face, you are Rachel's and you have changed the world. Nothing is mean, but you have made it miraculous; nothing is loathsome, nothing ludicrous, but you have converted it to loveliness, that even this shadow of a mockery myself, cast by your light, gives me the dear assurance I am a man. Rachel, mistress, mother, out of my suffering you have brought forth my soul. I am saved!
THE IMAGE IN THE GLASS: A very pretty sophistry. (The moonlight grows dimmer, as at the passing of a cloud.)
RAVENSBANE: Ah! what voice has snatched you from me?
THE IMAGE: A most poetified pumpkin!
RAVENSBANE: Thing! dost thou speak at last? My soul abhors thee.
THE IMAGE: I am thy soul.
RAVENSBANE: Thou liest.
THE IMAGE: Our daddy Dickon and our mother Rickby begot and conceived us at sunrise, in a Jack-o'-lantern.
RAVENSBANE: Thou liest, torturing illusion. Thou are but a phantom in a glass.
THE IMAGE: Why, very true. So art thou. We are a pretty phantom in a glass.
RAVENSBANE: It is a lie. I am no longer thou. I feel it; I am a man.
THE IMAGE:

RAVENSBANE: Yea! If it be so, thou cogery! if both of us be indeed but illusions, why, now let us end together. But if it be not so, then let me for evermore be free of thee. Now is the test -- the glass! (Springing to the fireplace, he seizes an iron crosspiece from the andirons.) I'll play your urchin Death and shatter it. Let see what shall survive! (He rushes to strike the glass with the iron. Dickon steps out of the mirror, closing the curtain.)
DICKON: I wouldn't really!
RAVENSBANE: Dickon! dear Dickon! is it you?
DICKON: Yes, Jacky! it's dear Dickon, and I really wouldn't.
RAVENSBANE: Wouldn't what, Dickon?
DICKON: Sweep the cobwebs off the sky with thin aspiring broomstick. When a man questions fate, 'tis bad digestion. When a scarecrow does it, 'tis bad taste.
RAVENSBANE: At last, you will tell me the truth, Dickon! Am I, then -- that thing?
DICKON: You mustn't be so skeptical. Of course you're that th thing
RAVENSBANE: Ah me despicable! Rachel, why didst thou ever look upon me?
DICKON: I fear, cobby, thou hast never studied woman's heart and hero-worship. Take thyself now. I remarked to Goody Bess, thy mother, this morning, as I was chucking her thy pate from the hayloft, that thou wouldst make a Mark Antony or an Alexander before night.
RAVENSBANE: Cease! cease! in pity's name. You do not know the agony of being ridiculous.
DICKON: Nay, Jacky, all mortals are ridiculous. Like you, they were rummaged out of the muck; and like you, they shall return to the dunghill. I advise 'em, like you, to enjoy the interim, and smoke.
RAVENSBANE: This pipe, this ludicrous pipe that I forever set to my lips and puff! Why must I, Dickon? Why?
DICKON: To avoid extinction -- merely. You see, 'tis just as your fellow in there (pointing to the glass.) explained. You yourself are the subtlest of mirrors, polished out of pumpkin and pipe-smoke. Into this mirror the fair Mistress Rachel has projected her lovely image, and thus provided you with what men call a soul.
RAVENSBANE: Ah! then, I have a soul -- the truth of me? Mistress Rachel has indeed made me a man.
DICKON: Don't flatter thyself, cobby. Break thy pipe, and whiff -- soul, Mistress Rachel, man, truth, and this is pretty world itself, go up in the last smoke.
RAVENSBANE: No, no! not Mistress Rachel.
DICKON: Mistress Rachel exists for your lordship merely in your lordship's pipe-bowl.
RAVENSBANE: Wretched, niggling caricature that I am! All is lost to me -- lost!
DICKON: "Paradise Lost" again! Always blaming it on me. There's that gaunt fellow in England has lately wrote a parody on me when I was in the apple business.
RAVENSBANE: (Falling on his knees and bowing his head.) O God! I am so contemptible! (Enter, at door back, Goody Rickby; her blacksmith garb is hidden under a dingy black mantle with a peaked hood.)
DICKON: Good verse, too, for a parody! (Ruminating, raises one arm rhetorically above Ravensbane.)

GOODY RICKBY: (Seizing his arm.) Dickon!
DICKON: Hullo! You, Bess!
GOODY RICKBY: There's not a minute to lose. Justice Merton and the neighbors have ended their conference at Minister Dodge's, and are returning here.
DICKON: Well, let 'em come. We're ready.
GOODY RICKBY: But thou toldst me they had discovered --
DICKON: A scarecrow in a mirror. Well? The glass is bewitched: that's all.
GOODY RICKBY: Al? Witchcraft is hanging -- that's all! And the mirror was bought of me -- of me, the witch. Wilt thou be my hangman, Dickon?
DICKON: Wilt thou give me a kiss, Goody? When did ever thy Dickon desert thee?
GOODY RICKBY: But how, boy, wilt thou --
DICKON: Trust m e, and thy son. When the Justice's niece is thy daughter-in-law, all will be safe. For the J Justice will cherish his niece's family.
GOODY RICKBY: But when he knows --
DICKON: But he shall not know. How can he? When the glass is denounced as a fraud, how will he, or any person, ever know that we made this fellow out of rubbish? Who, forsooth, but a poet -- or a devil -- would believe it? You mustn't credit men with our imaginations, my dear.
GOODY RICKBY: Then thou wilt pull me through this safe?
DICKON: As I adore thee -- and my own reputation.
GOODY RICKBY: (At the window.) I see their lanterns down the road --
DICKON: Stay, marchioness -- his lordship! My lord -- your lady mother.
GOODY RICKBY: (Curtsying, laughs shrilly.) Your servant -- m y son! (About to depart.)
RAVENSBANE: You lie! both of you! -- I was born of Rachel.
DICKON: Tut, tut, Jacky; you mustn't mix up mothers and prospective wives at your age. It's fatal.
GOODY RICKBY: (Excitedly.) They're coming! (Exit.)
DICKON: (Calling after her.) Fear not; I'll overtake thee.
RAVENSBANE: She is coming; Rachel is coming, and I may not look upon her!
DICKON: Eh! Why not?
RAVENSBANE: I am a monster.
DICKON: Fie! fie! Thou shalt have her.
RAVENSBANE: Have her, Dickon?
DICKON: For lover and wife.
RAVENSBANE: For wife?
DICKON: For wife and all. Thou hast but to obey.
RAVENSBANE: Ah! who will do this for me?
DICKON: I!
RAVENSBANE: Dickon! Wilt make me a man -- a man and worthy of her?
DICKON: Fiddlededee! I make over no masterpieces. Thy mistress shall be Cinderella, and drive to her palace with her gilded pumpkin.
RAVENSBANE: It is the end.
DICKON: What! You'll not?
RAVENSBANE: Never.
DICKON: Harkee, manikin. Has thou learned to suffer?
RAVENSBANE: (Wringing his hands.) O God!
DICKON: I taught thee. Shall I teach thee further?
RAVENSBANE: Thou canst not.
DICKON: Cannot -- ha! What if I should teach Rachel, too?
RAVENSBANE: Rachel! -- Ah! now I know thee.
DICKON: (Bowing.) Flattered.
RAVENSBANE: Devil! Thou wouldst not torment Rachel?
DICKON: Not if my lord --
RAVENSBANE: Speak! What must I do?
DICKON: Not speak. Be silent, my lord, and acquiesce in all I say.
RAVENSBANE: I will be silent.
DICKON: And acquiesce?
RAVENSBANE: I will be silent. (Enter Minister Dodge, accompanied by Sir Charles Reddington, Captain Bugby, the Reverend Masters Rand and Todd, and followed by Justice Merton, Richard, Mistress Merton, and Rachel. Richard and Rachel stand somewhat apart, Rachel drawing close to Richard and hiding her face. All wear their outer wraps, and two or three hold lanterns, which, save the moon, throw the only light upon the scene. All enter solemn and silent.)
MINISTER DODGE: Lord, be Thou present with us, in this unholy spot!
SEVERAL MEN'S VOICES: Amen.
DICKON: Friends! Have you seized her?
MINISTER DODGE: Stand from us.
DICKON: Sir, the witch! Surely you did not let her escape?
ALL: A dame in a peaked hood. She has but now fled the house. She called herself -- Goody Rickby.
ALL: Goody Rickby!
MISTRESS MERTON: She here!
DICKON: Yea, mistress, and hath confessed all the damnable art, by which all of us have lately been so terrorized.
JUSTICE MERTON: What confessed she?
MINISTER DODGE: What said she?
DICKON: This: It appeareth that, for some time past, she hath cherished revengeful thoughts against our honored host, Justice Merton.
MINISTER DODGE: Yea, he hath often righteously condemned her!
DICKON: Precisely! So, in revenge, she bewitched yonder mirror, and this very morning unlawfully inveigled this sweet young lady into purchasing it.
SIR CHARLES: Mistress Rachel!
MINISTER DODGE: (To Rachel.) Didst thou purchase the glass?
RACHEL: (In a low voice.) Yes.
MINISTER DODGE: From Goody Rickby?
RACHEL: Yes. (Clinging to Richard.) O, Richard!
MINISTER DODGE: But the image; what was the damnable image in the glass?
DICKON: A familiar devil of hers -- a sly imp, who wears to mortal eyes the shape of a scarecrow. It seems she commanded this devil to reveal himself in the glass as my lord's own image, that thus she might wreck Justice Merton's family felicity.
MINISTER DODGE: Infamous!
DICKON: Indeed, sir, it was this very devil whom but now she stole here to consult withal, when she encountered me, attendant here upon my poor prostrate lord, and -- held by the wrath in my eye -- confessed it all.
SIR CHARLES: Thunder and brimstone! Where is the accursed hag?
DICKON: Alas -- gone, gone! If you had but stopped her.
MINISTER DODGE: I know her den -- the blacksmith shop. Let us seize her there!
SIR CHARLES: (Starting.) Which way?
MINISTER DODGE: To the left.
SIR CHARLES: Go on, there.
MINISTER DODGE: My honored friends, come with us. Heaven shield, with her guilt, the innocent! (Exeunt all but Richard, Rachel, Dickon, and Ravensbane. )
DICKON: So, then, dear friends., this strange incident is happily elucidated. Bygones, therefore, be bygones. The future brightens -- with orange-blossoms. Hymen and Felicity stand with us here ready to unite two amorous and bashful lovers. His lordship is reticent; yet to you alone, of all beautiful ladies, Mistress Rachel--
RAVENSBANE: (In a mighty voice.) Silence!
DICKON: My lord would --
RAVENSBANE: Silence! Dare not speak to her!
DICKON: (Biting his lip.) My babe is weaned. (He steps back, and disappears, left, in the dimness.)
RACHEL: (Still at Richard's side.) OH, my lord, if I have made you suffer --
RICHARD: (Appealingly.) Rachel!
RAVENSBANE: (Approaching her, raises one arm to screen his face.) Gracious lady! let fall your eyes; look not upon me. If I dare now speak once more to you, 'tis because I would have you know -- Oh, forgive me! -- that I love you.
RICHARD: Sir! This lady has renewed her promise to be my wife.
RAVENSBANE: Your wife, or not, I love her.
RICHARD: Zounds!
RAVENSBANE: Forbear, and hear me! For one wonderful day I have gazed upon this, your world. A million forms -- of trees, of stones, of stars, of men, of common things -- have swum like motes before my eyes; but one alone was wholly beautiful. That form was Rachel: to her alone I was not ludicrous; to her alone I also was beautiful. Therefore, I love her.
RICHARD: Sir!
RAVENSBANE: You talk to me of mothers, mistresses, lovers, and wives and sisters, and you say men love these. What is love? The night and day of the world - the all of life, the all which must include both you and me and God, of whom you dream Well, then, I love you, Rachel. What shall prevent me? Mistress, mother, wife -- thou art all to me!
RICHARD: My lord, I can only reply for Mistress Rachel, that you speak like one who does not understand the world.
RAVENSBANE: O, God! sir, and do you? If so, tell me -- tell me before it be too late -- why, in this world, such a thing as I can love and talk of love. Why, in this world, a true man and woman, like you and your betrothed, can look upon this counterfeit and be deceived.
RACHEL AND RICHARD: Counterfeit?
RAVENSBANE: Me -- on me -- the ignominy of the earth, the laughing-stock of the angels.
RACHEL: Are you not Lord Ravensbane?
RAVENSBANE: No, I am not Lord Ravensbane. I am a nobleman of husks, bewitched from a pumpkin. I am Lord Scarecrow!
RACHEL: Ah me, the image in the glass was true?
RAVENSBANE: Yes, true. It is the glass of truth -- Thank God for you, dear.
DICKON: (His face only reappearing in the mirror, speaks low.) Remember! if you dare -- Rachel shall suffer for it.
RAVENSBANE: You lie. She is above your power.
DICKON: Still, thou darest not --
RAVENSBANE: Fool, I dare. (Ravensbane turns to Rachel. While he speaks, Dickon's face slowly fades and disappears.) Mistress, this pipe is I. This intermittent smoke holds, in its nebula, Venus, Mars, the world. If I should break it -- chaos and the dark! And this of me that now stands up will sink jumbled on the floor -- a scarecrow. See! I break it. (He breaks the pipe in his hands, and flings the pieces to the ground; then turns, agonized to Rachel.) Oh, Rachel, could I have been a man -- ! (He sways, staggering..)
RACHEL: Richard! Richard! support him. (She draws the curtain of the mirror, just opposite which Ravensbane has sunk upon the floor. At her cry, he starts up faintly and gazes at his reflection, which is seen to be a normal image of himself.) Look, look: the glass!
RAVENSBANE: Who is it?
RACHEL: Yourself, my lord -- 'tis the glass of truth.
RAVENSBANE: (His face lighting with an exalted joy, starts to his feet, erect, before the glass.) A man! (He falls back into the arms of the two lovers.)
RICHARD: (Bending over him. ) Dead!
RACHEL: (With an exalted look.) But a man!

CURTAIN