Cast of Characters The Happy Prince HAPPY PRINCE TOWNIE 1 TOWNIE 2 TOWNIE 3 TOWNIE 4 SWALLOW * REED * LOVERMAN LADY LOVER PROFESSOR OF ORNITHOLOGY BOY BOY'S MOTHER THE WRITER ART PROFESSOR LITTLE MATCH GIRL SNOW PEOPLE * A CHORUS OF CHILDREN The ingale And The Rose NIGHTINGALE* STUDENT TREE* SUN-DIAL TREE * WINDOW TREE * THE GIRL A CHORUS OF CHILDREN The Selfish Giant ABIRD ANOTHER BIRD * GIANT SNOW PECPLE NORTH WIND THE CHILDREN * The Devoted Friend DUCK* WATER RAT* MILLER HANS MILLER'S WIFE DUCKLINGS* DOCTOR ‘The Remarkable Rocket PRINCE PRINCESS KING REMARKABLE ROCKET * (CATHERINE WHEEL * SQUIB* ROMAN CANDLE * A BENGAL LIGHT * ROYAL PYROTECHNIST TRASH PERSON FROG * DRAGONELY * DUCK* indicates a character likely portrayed by a puppeted object.Casting Notes A diverse group of performers is encouraged, and each zole can be played by any gender, body type, ethnicity, age, and so on. It works ‘well with an all-female cast, for example. The performances should not be particularly childlike or exaggerated but feature the personal qualities of the actors. The play can be performed by eight actors, but can be expanded to at Jeast 40 if double/triple casting is reduced. Actors not ina particular story should be used to help puppet objects. A chorus who sings or speaks the songs between scenes can be as large as desired. Objects The many many characters that are animals or objects should be portrayed by handheld puppets. They do not need to be particularly fancy. In fact, the best puppets to use are simple representational objects (ie. a little bird toy to play a bird, or a toy rocket to portray the rocket, rather than some sort of elaborate marionette). The actors who hold the objects should not be hidden. An asterisk below indicates a character likely portrayed by a puppeted object. The children in the play can be played by very young actors or can be played by anyone or by the “children puppets” used in the “Selfish Giant” story. Production Notes Birds, flowers, gardens, seasons, and sky pervade The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde. Nature is not merely a setting, but a guiding force. At any moment the weather, or a creature, or a plant can speak or take action. A swallow falls in love with a reed, but their relationship deteriorates as the reed flirts with the wind and resists traveling with her lover, the swallow (“We reeds have our roots!”). First published in 1888, the stories were inspired by and made for ‘Wilde's two children, toddlers at the time, but they were intended also for an audience of “childlike people” of all ages. Indeed while the talking animals and fairytale characters have delighted children for the past 125 years, the themes of loss, sacrifice, generosity and Wilde's signature wit leave much fo satiate the adult reader. When Wilde asked his young son why he was crying after hearing “The Selfish Giant” he replied that “really beautiful things” always make him cry. In an interview, Wilde said “The mind of a child is agreat mystery, Itis incalculable,” He was surprised at his children’s frankness. His son Cyril asked if Wilde dreamed at night. Wilde replied with lavish tales of dragons and castles and kings, to which Cyril responded “Oh, I just dream of pigs.” The simplicity of this influenced Wilde's writing of these tales. As fancifulas the storiesare, they cut right to the bone: one bird'seyes are opened to the misery of humanity, while another bird sacrifices herself in the name of love. A rocket’s self-pride becomes his self- sabotage, and so on. Wilde Tales can be performed any time but is strangely right as a Christmas play. Wilde does not shy away from images of Christ and God, who in this adaptation are portrayed by children. But itis nature who reigns supreme as a force always ready to barrel through and cleanse us. The tone established in Wilde's early writing reappears in his prison writing just a decade after the publication of these stories (quotes from the prison writing are -used as song lyrics here, which can either be composed or simply chanted). Not long before his death Wilde wrote that society had cast him aside (just as the Happy Prince is discarded once his gold and sapphires are gone), but Wilde added that “nature whose sweet rains fall” held a place for him. For if of these fallen petals One to you seem fai, Love will waft it till it settles On your hair. And when wind and winter harden All the loveless land, It will whisper of the garden, You will understand. —Oscar WildeAcknowledgments ‘Thanks to Elizabeth Cuthrell and Steve Tuttleman Thanks to Brian Rady, RADY&BLOOM. Thanks to the team behind the original production and development of this play at Quintessence Theater, Artistic Director Alexander Barns: Wilde Tales was originally produced in December 2016 at Quintessence Theater in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, under Artistic Director Alexander Burns. The production featured the following cast and staff: ENSEMBLE. .....- -sssss+.Ashton Carter, Ife Foy, Michael Gamache, Terence Gleeson, Mattie Hawkinson, Aneesa Neibauer, ‘Vanessa Sterling, Hannah Wolff SDE cr ccasnccoeernanntennes »» Doug Greene Light Design. ..... seseeee Jay Ryan Costume Design .. - + Jane Casanave Music.......0.... David Cope Sound Design....... -Daniel Ison Puppetry..... Martina PlagWILDE TALES by Jeremy Bloom ADAPTED FROM THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES AND OTHER WRITING BY OSCAR WILDE ACT ONE (Picture this: a garden. The stage is covered in grass and plant life. Some of itis definitely real and alive, while some of it is most certainly fake. Mud. Perennual flowers, Lawrt ornaments, Low hanging planters filled with big bushy ferns gently sway and turn. Discarded objects that will be used as puypets tn the stories that follow. The garden is deliberately, maybe even obsessively, arranged. If we lean in and look closely, we'tt see little figurines with their particularly little houses laid out beneath the shade of a particular leaf or in a corner—as if they are little toys left behind by a child at play. This garden contains worlds within worlds beyond worlds. The tiny figurines may have big lives—they are probably giants in some tiny world too small for us to perceive, and we are surely figurines for someone or something else.) (Suddenly, [before we've even sufficiently cleared our throats] there's the smallest most cherubic child standing right here at the very front of this very stage. The lights and the sound and our hearts catch up to the child, who is very eager to get on with this whole thing. The child begins to sing:) ACHILD. FAR OFF LIKE A PERFECT PEARL, ONE CAN SEE THE CITY OF GOD. IT’SSO WONDERFUL ITSEEMS IT’SSO WONDERFUL ITSEEMS ITSEEMS AS IF A CHILD COULD REACH IT IN ASUMMER'S DAY IN ASUMMER WAY AND SO A CHILD COULD. FAR OFF LIKE A PERFECT PEARL, ONE CAN SEE THE CITY OF GOD. IT’SSO WONDERFUL10 Jeremy Bloom ITSEEMS IT'SSO WONDERFUL IT SEEMS ITSEEMS ASIF A CHILD COULD REACHIT IN ASUMMER'S DAY IN ASUMMER WAY ANDSO A CHILD COULD. (Somebody holds up another copy of the book. They all say [shout at the top thetr lungs?]—-) ALL CHILDREN. One! The Happy Prince. The Happy Prince (PRINCE ascends to his position as high as possible onstage, probably on a tall ladder, or even more likely as close as possible to the audience. He emerges from the back of the stage and begins to speak. Though the PRINCE ts portrayed by a human actor, the SWALLOW is portrayed by a simple bird object, could be as simple as two branches held in the shape of a “V" so that the image of the swallow sitting on the PRINCE's shoulder can be achieved. The REED, held by an actor, should be a simple long stick that can sway in the breeze. Perhaps there is a handheld miniature town that is used to suggest the view the PRINCE sees.) PRINCE. High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. The statue was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt. TOWNIE 3. He looks just like an angel. TOWNIE 4. How do you know? You have never seen one. TOWNIE 3. I see angels in my dreams TOWNIE 2. He is as beautiful as a weathervane, only not as useful. TOWNIE 1. Ilike him. SWALLOW. Meanwhile! There was this little Swallow. REED. Who fell in love with a gorgeous reed. SWALLOW. He had been flying down the river in pursuit of a big yellow moth—Wilde Tales nL REED. And there she was, with her slender waist. The first thing he said to her was— SWALLOW. Shall I love you? REED. And he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer. SWALLOW. And when his bird friends continued on towards Egypt, he stayed behind. REED. He said it again— SWALLOW. Shall I love you!? REED. And again— SWALLOW. How Ilove you! REED. And again— SWALLOW. Oh, Ilove you... REED. "Twasn'' long before he began to tire of her. SWALLOW. She has no conversation, and why is she always flirting with the wind?? REED. Well, when the wind blows, you know I like to—you know how it goes... SWALLOW. Me, I love to travel and consequently my bride should love to travel too. REED. But we reeds have our roots. SWALLOW. Won't you come away with me? REED. I won't leave this riverbank. SWALLOW. You have been trifling with me. Oh, my heart. Iam off to the Pyramids. Good-bye! REED 2. Good day! REED 3. Good-bye! REED. He left the reed flapping in the breeze. (SWALLOW flies away.) SWALLOW. The swallow flew all night, all day—he flew fast away, and was quite tired when he was flying past the statue of the Happy Prince. (Paying SWALLOW no mind, PRINCE has begun to cry.)2 Jeremy Bloom PRINCE. It's too much. SWALLOW. I'll pause here. It is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air. Iwill sleep here between these golden feet. PRINCE. A teardsop falls slowly from the prince's eye. SWALLOW. Oh look it’s starting to rain. PRINCE. Another one. I can’t help it SWALLOW. Another drop. What a curious thing! There is not a single cloud. in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet itis raining, The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. PRINCE. Another drop. SWALLOW. Whatis the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off? PRINCE. I'm sorry- (Now he’s practically hysterically crying.) SWALLOW. The sapphire eyes of this stunning statue are filled with tears, and little streams and rivers of tears stain his golden cheeks. PRINCE. Yes, I know. SWALLOW. Sir, who are you? PRINCE. I am the Happy Prince. SWALLOW. The “happy” prince, then why do you weep? You have quite drenched me. PRINCE. Forgive me, as a statue, I can't move my arms to wipe away my tears. SWALLOW. But why so sad? PRINCE. Well, used to be alive and had a human heart. Back then, I didn’t know what tears were for. [lived in the great Palace of Sans- Souci, where there is no sorrow. In the day I played in the garden with friends and at night we danced in the Great Hall. SWALLOW. Sounds lovely. PRINCE. All around the garden edge sana tall wall. SWALLOW. To keep you inside? PRINCE. No, no—to keep others out I suppose. I never cared to ask what lay beyond it. Everything about my life was beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so died. SWALLOW. And now that you are dead?Wilde Tales 13 PRINCE. They have sculpted my likeness, and they have set me up here so high that I can see beyond the wall, I see all the misery of my city. ‘SWALLOW. As a swallow, I don’t think much about what a wall Bu PRINCE... . And though my heart is made of lead, I cannot choose ‘but to weep. SWALLOW... . [could fly right over any wall. PRINCE. Do you see that little house far down that little street? One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. BOY'S MOTHER. She is embroidering passionflowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honor to wear at the next Courtball. PRINCE. Ina bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. BOY'S MOTHER. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. PRINCE. His mother has nothing to give him but river water. BOY'S MOTHER. So he is crying. PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and Icannot move. SWALLOW. Oh, Id love to, but lam waited for in Egypt. My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus- flowers. They sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves. PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad. ‘SWALLOW. I don’t think I like children. Last summer, two rude ‘boys were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, as we swallows fly far too well for that (besides, Icome of a family famous forits agility); but still, it was a mask of disrespect. PRINCE. Please . . . SWALLOW. It is very cold here, but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.u Jeremy Bloom PRINCE. Thank you, little Swallow. SWALLOW. So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. LOVER MAN. How wonderful the stars are, and how wonderful is the power of lovel LADY LOVER. I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State- ball, Ihave ordered passionflowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy. SWALLOW. He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. At last he came to the little house at the end of the little street and looked in. BOY. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. SWALLOW. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings BOY. How cool I feel, I must be getting better. PRINCE. Thank you. SWALLOW. It is curious, but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold. PRINCE. That is because you have done a good action. SWALLOW. The next morning, the swallow was spotted by a professor of ornithology. PROFESSOR OF ORNITHOLOGY. What a remarkable phenom- enon. A swallow in winter! SWALLOW. I've stayed too long here. Tonight I go to Egypt. Oh, Prince, have you any commissions for Egypt? Iam just about to head out. PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not stay with me one night longer? SWALLOW. I gotta go, I gotta go. I am waited for in Egypt remember the tombs, the Nile, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent.Wilde Tales 15, PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, far away across the city Isee a young man leaning over a desk covered with papers, and ina tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is ‘brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any moze. ‘SWALLOW. Oh, I don't know— PRINCE. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint. SWALLOW. Alright. I will wait with you one night longer, Shall I take him another ruby? PRINCE. Alas! I have no ruby now, my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He ‘will sell it to the jeweler, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play. SWALLOW. Dear Prince, I cannot take your eyes— PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, do as Icommand you. SWALLOW. So the Swallow phicked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets. THE WRITER. Iam beginning to be appreciated; this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play. SWALLOW. Good. And the next day, the swallow would leave for Egypt to join his friends. Oh, Prince—I am come to bid you good- bye. PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not stay with me one night longer? SWALLOW. It is winter, and the chill snow will soon fall. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. PRINCE. In the square below, there stands a little match-girl. SWALLOW. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget ‘you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shalll be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shalll be as blue as the great seaub Jeremy Bloom: PRINCE. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. See— THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL. The little match-girl has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. PRINCE. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her. SWALLOW. Fine. I will stay with you one night longer, but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then. PRINCE. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, do as Icommand you. SWALLOW. So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. (Returning to PRINCE. A moment of realization for SWALLOW.) SWALLOW. You are blind now, so I will have to stay with you always, PRINCE. No little Swallow, you must go away to Egypt. SWALLOW. I will stay with you always, and I shall sleep at your feet. PRINCE. All the next day the little swallow told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. ‘SWALLOW. Things like the red ibises, who stand in long rows ‘on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the ‘Mountains of the Moon; the great green snake; honey-cakes; wars with the butterflies. PRINCE. Dear little Swallow, you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of people. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there. ‘SWALLOW. I see the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars sit at the gates. I see faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the streets. I see two little boys lying under a bridge in one another's arms trying to keep themselves warm, and then I see a watchman kicking them out into the rain.Wilde Tales w PRINCE. I'am covered with fine gold, you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy. SWALLOW. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. “We have bread now!” they cried. (Every time SNOW PEOPLE appear, their voices melt together in unison chant.) SNOW PEOPLE. Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost, The streets looked as if thay were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice. (The chant becomes a low hum that adds in all available voices.) SWALLOW. The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Pzince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings. But at last he knew that he was going to die, He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more: Good-bye, dear Prince! Will you let me kiss your hand? PRINCE. Iam glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow; you have stayed. too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for Love you. SWALLOW. It is not to Egypt that Iam going. I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not? Good-bye. (And he kisses the HAPPY PRINCE on the lips, and falls down dead at his feet.) ALL. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The factis that the leaden hearthad snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. TOWNIE 1. Dear me! How shabby the Happy Prince looks! TOWNIE 2. How shabby indeed! TOWNIE 3. The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer, he is little better than a beggar! TOWNIE 2. Little better than a beggar.18 Jeremy Bloom TOWNIE 1. And here is actually a dead bird at his feet! We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here. Oh, there's the art professor. Mister Art Professor, what should we do with the statue of the Happy Prince? ART PROFESSOR. As the statue is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful. Ican melt it down in the furnace at the university— TOWNIE 2. And we can rebuild a statue of myself. TOWNIE 3. No, me. TOWNIE 1. I've always thought there should be a statue of me in town. Of course we must make another statue with the metal, but it should be a statue of myself. ART PROFESSOR. What a strange thing! This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away. Here, toss this useless thing into the trash with this dead swallow. (PRINCE falls into crowd of TOWNSPEOPLE.) (The CHILDREN gather.) A CHILD. “Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” PRINCE and SWALLOW. Said God to one of His Angels, ALL. And the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird. A CHILD. You have rightly chosen, for in my garden of Paradise this Happy Prince and little bird shall sing forevermore. The Nightingale and the Rose (The NIGHTINGALE is portrayed by a mystical bird object, perhaps ane of those desktop bird toys that balances on its beak. The TREES are portrayed by lightweight but big as possible fake trees that can be mantpulated as they produce roses.) ALL. ON WHAT LITILE THINGS DOES HAPPINESS DEPEND HAVE READ ALL THE WISDOM PEOPLE HAVE WRITTEN AND ALL THE SECRETS OF PHILOSOPHY ARE MINE ‘YET FOR WANT OF A RED ROSE IS MY LIFE MADE WRETCHED STUDENT. ON WHAT LITILE THINGS DOES HAPPINESS DEPEND HAVE READ ALL THE WISDOM PEOPLE HAVE WRITTEN19 AND ALL THE SECRETS OF PHILOSOPHY ARE MINE YET FOR WANT OF A RED ROSE IS MY LIFE MADE WRETCHED (Somebody holds up a book.) (They all say [shout at the top their lungs?]—) ALL CHILDREN. Two! The Nightingale and the Rose. NIGHTINGALE. One evening, a nightingale flying by spies a student wallowing in a garden. He is forlorn; he is thinking only of her. STUDENT. In all my garden there is no red rose! That's all she wants! (An idealized, imagined vision of the GIRL appears.) GIRL/ STUDENT. BRING ME RED ROSES BRING ME RED ROSES DO THEY HAVE TO BE RED? YES THEY HAVE TO BE RED YES THEY HAVE TO BE ROSES YOU WILL HOLD ME IN YOUR ARMS TLL REST MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER TLL DANCE WITH YOU FEW THINGS IN THIS LIFE ARE HARD FEW THINGS IN THIS LIFE ARE IMPORTANT JUST BRING ME THIS TLL DANCE WITH YOU NIGHTINGALE. Here at last is a true lover! STUDENT. She said she would only dance with me if I brought her red roses. NIGHTINGALE. Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have Itold his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are ted as the rose of his desire: but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow. STUDENT. The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. (A spell of fantasy is broken and the imagined vision of the GIRL ts gone.) STUDENT. I have no red roses, My heart... . broken.NIGHTINGALE. This is the real thing. What I sing of, he suffers— what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. STUDENT. The musicians will sit in their gallery, and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. NIGHTINGALE. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it... STUDENT. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor . . NIGHTINGALE. Nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold. STUDENT. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her. NIGHTINGALE. Let us pause and suminate on the mystery of Love. (She ruminates. He's still in his own world. Any available fingers snap or clap impatiently.) NIGHTINGALE. I think I've got it. GIRL. FEW THINGS IN THIS LIFE ARE HARD FEW THINGS IN THIS LIFE ARE IMPORTANT JUST BRING ME THIS TLL DANCE WITH YOU NIGHTINGALE. You, Tree, give me a red rose, and I will sing you my sweetest song. TREE. My roses are white—whiter than the snow on mountains. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want. NIGHTINGALE. Sun-dial Tree, give me a red rose, and I will sing you my sweetest song. SUN-DIAL TREE. My roses are as yellow as mermaid hair, yellower than the daffodil that blooms in’the meadow before the mower comes. But go to my brother who grows beneath the window, and pethaps he will give you what you want. NIGHTINGALE. And so the Nightingale flew to the tree that grew by the window. Window Tree, giveme ared rose, and Iwill sing you my sweetest song.Wilde Tales a WINDOW TREE. My roses are red as dove feet, redder than ‘waving coral that waves in an ocean-cavern, But winter has chilled my veins—no roses this year. NIGHTINGALE. (Near tears:) One red rose is all I want, only one sed rosel Is there no way by which I can get it? WINDOW TREE. There is a way, but it is so terrible that I dare not tellit to you. NIGHTINGALE. Tell it to me. Iam not afraid. WINDOW TREE. If you want a red rose, you must stain it with ‘your own heart’s-blood. (Any available fingers snap with suspense.) WINDOW TREE. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine. NIGHTINGALE. Death is a great price to pay for a red rose. WINDOW TREE. Life is very dear to all. NIGHTINGALE. Itis pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of peatl. WINDOW TREE. Sweetis the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. NIGHTINGALE. Yet Love is better than Life. WINDOW TREE. And what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man? (The STUDENT is still pining away oblivious to this nature conversation between bird and tree.) NIGHTINGALE. Be happy, be happy; you shall have your red rose. Iwill build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart’s-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though she is mighty. Flame-colored are her wings, and colored like flame is her body. Her lips are sweet as honey, and her breath is like frankincense. I know you can't understand my bird language but hope you can hear me. STUDENT. What a beautiful song. Perhaps it will be my last. I feel so very lonely.22 Jeremy losin, NIGHTINGALE. What a pity these bird-words mean nothing to you. WINDOW TREE. And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. Alll night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Mooa leaned down and listened, All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her. NIGHTINGALE. Surely Love is a wonderful thing, WINDOW TREE. Press closer, little Nightingale, or the Day will come before the rose is finished. NIGHTINGALE. Ican do this. (A white rose emerges. The roses can pop through their branches by actors. The illusion is strengthened if the leaves are quite full and the roses are attached to long sticks, so they seem to appear _from nowhere, pushing through the WINDOW TREE.) WINDOW TREE. And there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. At first it was pale as the mist that hangs over rivers—pale as the morning feet, silver as the wings of dawn. NIGHTINGALE. Am I nearly finished? WINDOW TREE. Press closes, little Nightingale, the sun's long rays will reach out soon. NIGHTINGALE. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. (A pink rose emerges.) WINDOW TREE. And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of a fresh kissed bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart. NIGHTINGALE. Ican do this. WINDOW TREE. And the thorn touched her heart. NIGHTINGALE. Ah. (A red scarf appears from: near the NIGHTINGALE as bloodletting.) WINDOW TREE. And the marvelous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart. (A red rose emerges.)Wilde Tales NIGHTINGALE. The Nightingale’s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. WINDOW TREE. Look, the rose is complete. NIGHTINGALE. Of course she could not reply. (NIGHTINGALE's death.) (STUDENT re-enters.) STUDENT. Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! Here is a red rose! Thave never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that Tam sure it has a long Latin name. I'll bring it to her! (NIGHTINGALE and the trees are all still onstage but more as natural spirits eagerly watching this ail play out. They all say—) ALL. The gorgeous girl who asked for the gorgeous rose. STUDENT. There she is! ALL. The gorgeous girl who makes his heart pump. STUDENT. You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose. Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next to your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you. THE GIRL. Oh. I'm afraid it will not go with my dress, and also the Chamberlain's nephew sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers. STUDENT. That's it? THE GIRL. What else is there? STUDENT. You're ungrateful! THE GIRL. Ungrateful! I tell you what, you are very tude: and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has. STUDENT. What a silly thing Love is. (He drops the rose.) ALL. LOVE IS NOT HALF AS USEFUL AS LOGIC IT DOESN'T PROVE ANYTHING IT IS ALWAYS TELLING THINGS THAT ARE NOT GOING TOHAPPEN MAKING ONE BELIEVE THINGS THAT ARE NOT TRUE IN FACT, ITIS QUITE UNPRACTICAL AND IN THIS AGE TO BE PRACTICAL IS EVERYTHING24 Jeremy Bloom BETTER TO STUDY PHILOSOPHY BETTER TO STUDY METAPHYSICS BETTER TO HANG OUT IN MY ROOM AND READ A BOOK ‘WHY MESS WITH ALL OF THIS LOVE IS NOT HALF AS USEFUL AS LOGIC IT DOESN'T SOLVE ANYTHING TO BE PRACTICAL IS EVERYTHING THE POOR NIGHTINGALE THE POOR NIGHTINGALE THE POOR NIGHTINGALE ALL CHILDREN. Three! The Selfish Giant. The Selfish Giant (The scale shifts CHILDREN are played by little hand puppets or toy figures and the GIANT is played by a human-sized person who £5 way bigger in comparison.) A CHILD. Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden. ANOTHER CHILD. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. YET ANOTHER CHILD. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autuma bore ich fruit. OOOH ANOTHER CHILD. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen tothem. (A thousand BIRDS swoop in and chirp.) A BIRD. Is the sound a bird makes, but if you could understand, it means how happy we are here! ANOTHER BIRD. But then one day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined toreturn to his own castle. GIANT. It’s good to be home. My beautiful garden is still and peacefull as ever. Nothing is as friendly as the familiar. How I have missed this place.Wilde Tales 25 ABIRD. But when the school bells rang, the children came running to play in the garden. GIANT. What are you doing here? My own garden is my own garden, anyone can understand that ABIRD. Perhaps he had a difficult childhood. GIANT. Why do they torment me? My own garden is my own. garden! I will not allow anybody to play in it but myself. Il build a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED. Shoo! ABIRD. He was a very selfish Giant. ANOTHER BIRD. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other. ABIRD. Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. ANOTHER BIRD. Naturally, the birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. A BIRD. Once some beautiful flowers put their heads out from the grass, but when they saw the notice-board they were so sorry for the children that they slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow. (A white sheet of frost is displayed as the SNOW PEOPLE chant.) SNOW PEOPLE. Spring has forgotten this garden, so we, the Snow, will live here all the year round. We, the Snow, will cover up the gtass with our great White cloak, and the Frost shall paint all the trees silver. North Wind, come and stay. The North Wind, wrapped in furs, come roar all day about the garden, and blow the chimney- pots down. NORTH WIND. This is a delightful spot, we must ask the Hail to come visit. SNOW PEOPLE. Every day for three hours the Hail will rattle the roof of the castle till most of the slates are broken, and run round26 Jeremy Bloom and round the garden as fast as possible. Have you felt the breath of Hail? It’s like ice. (The SNOW PEOPLE loudly exhale.) GIANT. I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming. A BIRD. But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none, ANOTHER BIRD. The Giant is too selfish. GIANT. Ihope there will be a change in the weather, SNOW PEOPLE. Soit was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees. GIANT. It's so very cold. ABIRD. And time goes by. GIANT. It's so very alone. ANOTHER BIRD. And time goes by and by and by. And all was lonely, and all was quiet, minus the sound of the Wind, and the plopping of Hail and the cracking of ice, (A tiny little chirping is heard that mystifies the GIANT.) GIANT. What is that little sound? It sounds so sweet to my ears. This beautiful song. A BIRD. It was simply a little bird chirping, but ithad been so long, he couldn't understand. It was as if all the king's musicians had gathered and ware playing a heavenly symphony. SNOW PEOPLE. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. (The snow sheet vanishes...) (A major nature moment where all spring cores alive.) GIANT. Ibelieve the Spring has come at last. Icantt believe my deceptive eyes. A CHILD. Through a little hole in the wall the children had creptin. ANOTHER CHILD. And they were sitting in the branches of the trees. GIANT, In every tree that Ican see, a little child,Wilde Tales 7 ANOTHER BIRD. And the trees were so glad to have the children ‘back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. A BIRD. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. GIANT. It was a lovely scene. (GIANT takes it all in but is suddenly distracted by the re- emergence of some snow.) GIANT. Only in one corner it was still winter, It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up, little boy!” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny. ALL THE BIRDS. And the Giant's heart cracked and melted as he looked out. GIANT. How selfish I have been! Now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock dow: the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground forever and ever. ALL THE BIRDS. He was really very sorsy for what he had done. GIANT. Hello, children, (They all scream and scatter. The winter comes back.) GIANT. Not more winter... (The little boy who couldn't climb is still there.) GIANT. Here. Let me help you up into this tree. You don't have reason to fear me anymore. A BIRD, And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them zound the Giant's neck, and kissed him. A CHILD. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back. and with them came the Spring. GIANT. Itis your garden now, little children. No more walls, (He takes down the wall.)28 Jeremy Bloom ANOTHER CHILD. And when the people were going to market at twelve otlock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. ANOTHER OTHER CHILD. All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye. GIANT. But where is your little companion? The boy I put into the tree, ALL THE CHILDREN. We don’t know / he has gone away / haven't seen him. GIANT. You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow, ONE CHILD. We don't know where he lives. ABIRD. Every afternoon, when school was over, the childsen came and played with the Giant. But the little boy who had melted the Giant's heart was never seen again. GIANT. How I would like to see him again A BIRD. Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. GIANT. I have many beautiful flowers, but my little friends are the best thing in the garden. KID 1. Wochooocec0000. KID2. And they played in the grass. KID 1. Wochooo00000. KID 2. And they played in the trees. KID 1. Ilove this garden. KID3. Imagine a summer day that goes on forever. Wheeeeeeeeeee, KID 4. Imagine forever and ever and ever. A BIRD. One winter morning he hobbled over to his window. ANOTHER BIRD. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. A BIRD. He rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked, GIANT. It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them. A BIRD. And underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.Wilde Taies 29 GIANT. Who hath dared to wound thee? A BIRD. For on the palms of the child's hands were the marks of two nails, and the marks of two nails were on the little feet. GIANT. Who hath dared to wound thee? Tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him. THAT CHILD. No. But these are the wounds of Love. GIANT. Who art thou? THAT CHILD. You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise. ALL CHILDREN. And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. (Lonely, tonely toon calls and big morning sounds of a massive lush world awakening to a new morning) (GIANT’s deaths) ALL. I TREMBLE WITH PLEASURE WHEN I THINK THAT ON THE VERY DAY ILEAVE THE LILAC WILL BE BLOOMING ISHALL SEE THE WIND STIRRING RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE SWAYING GOLD RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE PALE PURPLE PLUMES RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE SWAYING GOLD RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE PALE PURPLE PLUMES RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE SWAYING GOLD RESTLESS BEAUTY OF THE PALE PURPLE PLUMES NATURE WHOSE SWEET RAINS FALL WILL HAVE CLEFTS IN THE ROCKS WHERE I MAY HIDE AND SECRET VALLEYS IN WHOSE SILENCE I MAY WEEP SHE WILL HANG THE NIGHT WITH STARS SQ THAT I MAY WALK ABROAD IN THE DARKNESS WITHOUT STUMBLING SEND THE WIND OVER MY FOOTPRINTS CLEANSE ME IN GREAT WATERS BITTER HERBS MAKE ME WHOLE ALL CHILDREN. Intermission! End of Act QueACTTWO ALL. THE FINAL MYSTERY IS ONESELF WHEN ONE HAS WEIGHED THE SUN, WHEN ONE HAS MEASURED THE MOON AND MAPPED OUT THE SEVEN HEAVENS STAR BY STAR THERE STILL REMAINS ONESELF WHO CAN CALCULATE THE ORBIT OF HIS OWN SOUL MY OWN SOUL THE ONLY PEOPLE I WOULD CARE TO BE WITH NOW PEOPLE WHO HAVE SUFFERED PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT BEAUTY IS PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT SORROW IS NOBODY ELSE INTERESTS ME (Somebody waiks forward with the book.) ALL CHILDREN. Four! The Devoted Friend. The Devoted Friend (All the children in sight are the duck's quacking and misbehaving children.) DUCK. Children, get in line! Come, my ducklings. WATER RAT. What disobedient children! They really deserve to be drowned. DUCKLINGS. Mummy, don’t drown us. Pleasel!!! Mummy. DUCK. Nothing of the kind, every one must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too patient. WATER RAT, Ah! I know nothing about the feelings of parents. I am nota family man. In fact, [have never been married, and Inever intend to be, Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much higher. Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship. DUCK. And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend? WATER RAT. What a silly question! I should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course. DUCK. And what would you do in return?32 Jeremy Bloom WATER RAT. I don’t understand you. DUCK. Let me tell you a story on the subject. WATER RAT. Is the story about me? If so, I will listen to it, for lam extremely fond of fiction. DUCK. It is applicable to you. This is the story of DUCKLINGS. The Devoted Friend! DUCK. That's right, The Devoted Friend. Once upon a time, there was an honest little fellow named Hans. ‘WATER RAT. Was he very distinguished? DUCK. No, I don’t think he was distinguished at all, except for his Kind heast. (HANS emerges.) HANS. He lived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his garden. DUCKLINGS. Is that Hans? DUCK. Yes, that's Hans. And in alll the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his. HANS. Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all was big Hugh the Miller. (The MILLER and his WIFE emerge.) MILLER. Good to see you. DUCK. Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller to little Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning over the wall and plucking a large nosegay— SECOND DUCKLING. Or a handful of sweet herbs— THIRD DUCKLING. Or filling his pockets with plums and cherries— FIRST DUCKLING. If it was the fruit season. MILLER. Real friends should have everything in common. DUCK. Sometimes, indeed, the neighbors thought it strange that the rich Miller never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred sacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep; but— HANS. Hans never troubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true friendship.Wilde Tales 33 DUCK. So little Hans worked away in his garden. Do you know what happened next? FIRST DUCKLING. During the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy. SECOND DUCKLING. But when the winter came, and he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. THIRD DUCKLING. In the winter, also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then. DUCK. This is true. MILLER. There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow lasts, for when people are in trouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors. MILLER’S WIFE. You are certainly very thoughtful about others, very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk about friendship. I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful things as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wear a gold ring on his little finger. But could we not ask little Hans up here? If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him porridge, and he could sit by the fire. MILLER. How silly! Why, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody’s nature. I certainly will not allow Hans’ nature to be spoiled. MILLER’S WIFE. How well you talk! Really I feel quite drowsy. Itis just like being in church. MILLER. Lots of people act well, but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer thing also. (Back to the current moment.) WATER RAT. Is that the end of the story? FIRST DUCKLING. No! SECOND DUCKLING. No! THIRD DUCKLING. Ha! DUCK. Certainly not, that is the beginning.Jeremy Bloom WATER RAT. Then you are quite behind the age. Every good story-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle. Thats the new method. I heard all about it the other day froma critic who was walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great length, and I am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head. But go on, I really like that Miller. DUCK. Well, as soon as the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their pale yellow stass, the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans. MILLER’S WIFE. Why, what a good heart you have, You are always thinking of others. And mind you, see if he'll give you a big basket for the flowers DUCK. So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm. MILLER. Good morning, little Hans. HANS. Good morning. MILLER. And how have you been all the winter? HANS. Well, really, itis very good of you to ask, very good indeed. I am afraid had rather a hard time of it, butnow the spring has come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well MILLER. We often talked of you during the winter, Hans, and wondered how you were getting on. HANS. That was kind of you, I was half afraid you had forgotten me. MILLER. Hans, 1 am surprised at you, friendship never forgets. That is the wonderful thing aboutit, but Iam afraid you don't understand the poetry of life. How lovely your primroses are looking, by-the- bye! HANS. They are certainly very lovely, and itis a most lucky thing for me that have so many. Iam going to bring them into the market and sell them to the Burgomasters daughter, and buy back my wagon with the money. MILLER. Buy back your wagon? You don't mean to say you have sold it? How silly, poor Hans! HANS. Well, the factis, that was obliged to. You see the winter was avery bad time for me, and I really had no money at all to buy bread with. So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat, and thenIsold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last I sold my wagon. But am going to buy them all back again now. MILLER. Hans, I will give you my wagon. It is not in very good repair; indeed, one side is gone, and there is something wrong with the wheel-spokes; but in spite of that I will give it to you. Iknow it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think me extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the world. I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and, besides, I have got a new wagon for myself. Yes, you may set your mind at ease, Iwill give you my wagon. HANS. Well, really, that is generous of you, I can easily put it in repair, thank you! MILLER. And now, as I have given you my wagon, I am sure you would like to give me some flowers in zeturn. Tl fetch my basket, and mind you fill it quite full. HANS. Quite full? MILLER, Well, really, as Iam going to give you my wagon, I don't think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers. I may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind. HANS. My dear friend, my best friend, You are welcome to all the flowers in my garden. Iwould much sooner have your good opinion than my silver buttons, any day. MILLER. Good-bye, little Hans. HANS. Good-bye. WATER RAT. Is that the end now? THIRD DUCKLING. Patience. FIRST DUCKLING. Patience. SECOND DUCKLING. Yeah! The next day... HANS. Back again? MILLER. Dear little Hans, would you mind carrying this sack of flour for me to market? HANS. Oh, I am so sorry, but I am reallly very busy to-day. [have got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to wates, and all my grass to roll. MILLER. Well, really, I think that, considering that I am going to give you my wagon, itis rather unfriendly of you to refuse.36 Jeremy Bloom HANS. Oh, don't say that. I wouldn't be unfriendly for the whole world, DUCK. And he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders. HANS. It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty. DUCK. Before Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down and rest. But he went on bravely, and at last he reached the market. After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flour for a very good price, and then he returned home at once— FIRST DUCKLING.—for he was afraid that if he stopped too late he might meet some robbers on the way... THIRD DUCKLING. Or fall in a ditch. SECOND DUCKLING. Or fall in love. HANS. It has certainly been a hard day, but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he is my best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me his wagon. I will sleep so well. (HLANS shuts his eyes.) DUCKLINGS. He's back. MILLER. Upon my word, you are very lazy. Really, considering that Lam going to give you my wagon, I think you might work harder. Idleness is a great sin, and I certainly don't iike any of my friends to be idle or sluggish. You must not mind my speaking quite plainly to you. Of course I should not dream of doing so if were not your friend. But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good. HANS. I am very sorry, but I was so tired that I thought T would lie in bed for a little time, and listen to the birds singing. Do you know that I always work better after hearing the birds sing? MILLER. Well, I am glad of that, for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are ready, and mend my barn-roof for me. DUCK. Poor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his flowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to efuse the Miller, as he was such a good friend to him. HANS. Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?MILLER. Well, really, I do not think it is much to ask of you, considering that Iam going to give you my wagon; but of course if ‘you refuse I will go and do it myself. HANS. On no account. DUCK. He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller came to see how he was getting on. MILLER. Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans? HANS. It is quite mended. MILLER. Ah, there is no work so delightful as the work one does for others. HANS. It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk, a very great privilege. But I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have. MILLER. Oh! They will come to you, but you must take more pains, At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day you ‘will have the theory also. HANS. Do you really think I shall? MILLER. I have no doubt of it, but now that you have mended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive my sheep to the mountain to-morrow. DUCK. Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans started off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole day to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in his chais, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight. HANS. What a delightful time I shall have in my garden today. DUCK. But somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his friend the Miller was always coming round and sending shim off on long errands, or getting him to help at the mull, HANS. Little Hans was very much distressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had forgotten them— DUCK. Buthe consoled himself by the reflection that the Miller was hiis best friend and had given him the wagon. So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in a note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good scholar. Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door.38 Jeremy Bloom HANS. It is some poor traveler. MILLER. Deas little Hans, | am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself. I need the doctor, but he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead of me. You know Iam going to give you my wagon, and so, it is only fair that you should do something for me in return. HANS. Certainly, I take it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I will start off at once. But you must lend me your lantern, as the night is so dark that lam afraid L might fall into a ditch, MILLER. Lam very sorry, but itis my new lantern, and it would be a great loss to me if anything happened to it. HANS. Well, never mind, will do without it— What a dreadful storm itis! The nights so black Ican hardly see, and the wind is so strong that I can scarcely stand. I can do this easily. Courage don't fail me. At last—after hours of hiking, there is the Doctor's house. DOCTOR. Who is there? HANS. Little Hans, Doctor. DOCTOR. What do you want, little Hans? HANS. The Miller's son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and the Miller wants you to come at once. DOCTOR. All right! Good-bye. DUCK. The doctor grabbed his warm coat and lantern, and hopped in his carriage and away he ran. DUCKLINGS. But what about Hans ...? DUCK. Hans was left shivering in the cold. The storm grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, and little Hans could not see where he was going. At last he lost his way, and wandered off on the moor, which was a very dangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, and there poor little Hans was drowned. HANS. His body was found the next day by some goatherds, floating in a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to the cottage. (HANS’ death.) DUCK. Everybody went to little Hans funeral, as he was so populas, and the Miller was the chief mourner.Wilde Tales 39 MILLER. As I was his best friend, it is only fair that I should have the best place in the funeral procession. This loss is a terrible thing... forme, MILLER’S WIFE. Little Hans is certainly a great loss to every one. MILLER. Yes. A huge loss for me. Why, Ihad as good as given him my wagon, and now Iteally don't know what to do with it. Itis very much in my way at home, and it is in such bad repair that I could not get anything for it if I sold it. I will certainly take care not to give away anything again. One always suffers for being generous. WATER RAT. Well? DUCK. Well, that is the end. WATER RAT. But what became of the Miller? DUCK. Oh! I really don't know, and I am suze that Idon't care, WATER RAT. Itis quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature. DUCK. Iam afraid you don't quite see the moral of the story. WATER RAT. The what? DUCKLINGS. The moral. WATER RAT. Do you mean to say that the story has a moral? DUCK. Certainly. WATER RAT. Well, really, I think you should have told me that before you began. If you had done 50, I certainly would not have listened to you! THIRD DUCKLING. Toodle-oo. (He vanishes away.) DUCK. I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him. The factis, thatI told him a story with a moral, always a very dangerous thing to do. ALL. ORDINARY RICHES CAN BE STOLEN FROM A MAN, REAL RICHES CANNOT IN THE TREASURY-HOUSE OF YOUR SOUL THERE ARE INFINITELY PRECIOUS THINGS THAT MAY NOT BE TAKEN FROM YOU. AND SO TRY TO SHAPE YOUR LIFE THAT EXTERNAL THINGS WILL NOT HARM YOU AND TRY TO GET RID OF PERSONAL PROPERTY ALL CHILDREN. Five! The Remarkable Rocket,The Remarkable Rocket THE KING. The king's son had waited a whole yeas for his beide, She was a Russian princess and had driven all the way from Finland in asledge drawn by six reindeer. The sledge was shaped like a golden swan, and between the swan’s wings lay the princess herself—her cloak reached down to her feet, her tiny cap made of silver tissue. She was pale as the snow’ palace she came from—pale as a white rose. THE PRINCE. Your picture is beautiful, but you are more beautiful in person. THE PRINCESS. It's nice to meet you, THE KING. She blushes, And she is no longer the white rose, now she is the red rose. THE PRINCESS. It's nice to meet you, your highness the king. (The KING begins to describe a wedding that simultaneously happens before our eyes. The PRINCE and PRINCESS walk over an aisle of red satin. Rose petals are placed on the aisle and when the PRINCE and PRINCESS exit the fabric is flung up and the rose petals fly through the air, and the fabric becomes a canopy they walk under. Itall happens quickly during the KING's speech . ..) THE KING. This wedding will be magnificent, You two will walk hand in hand under a canopy of red satin embroidered with little pearls. Then there will be a State Banquet which will last for five hours. You will drink from a cup of clear crystal. Only true lovers could drink out of this cup, for if false lips touch it, it will grow grey and dull and cloudy. Then, the Ball. We all dance and I play the flute. THE PRINCE. He's not much good, but no one mentions it because he's the King. THE KING. I know several notes on the flute. It's a charming routine. To close it all out, we shall have a grand display of fireworks, to be let off exactly at midnight. THE PRINCESS. I've never seen fireworks in my life. THE KING. We've sent for the royal pyrotechnist. THE PRINCESS. What are fireworks like? THE PRINCE. They are like the Aurora Borealis, only much more natural.Wilde Tales a THE KING. Iprefer them to stars myself, as you always know when they are going to appear, and they areas delightful as my own flute- playing. You must certainly see them. (A change in scale—the firework characters should be played by objects. They are kept in abox, and when the box is open the objects are animated using the box as a stage.) SQUIB. The world is beautiful. Just look at those yellow tulips. lam very glad I have travelled. Travel improves the mind wondexfully, and does away with all one’s prejudices. ROMAN CANDLE. The King’s garden is not the worl 14 foolish squib, the world is an enormous place, and it would take you three days to see it thoroughly. CATHERINE WHEEL. Any place you love is the world to you— ROMAN CANDLE. Says the Catherine Wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her ‘broken heart. CATHERINE WHEEL. Love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent. Itis no matter now. Romance is a thing of the past. ROMAN CANDLE. Nonsense! Romance never dies. It is like the moon, and lives for ever. The bride and groom, for instance, love each other very dearly. I heard all about them this morning from a brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court news. CATHERINE WHEEL. Romance is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is dead. ROMAN CANDLE. Apparently you're one of those people who think that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes true in the end. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Ahem! Ahem! How fortunate it is for the King’s son, that he is to be married on the very day on which I am to be let off. Really, if it had been arranged beforehand, it could not have turned out better for him; but, Princes are always lucky. SQUIB. Dear me! I thought it was quite the other way, and that we were to be let off in the Prince's honor. REMARKABLE ROCKET. It may be so with you, indeed, [have no doubt that it is, but with me it is different. Iam a very remarkable Rocket, and come of remarkable parents. My mother was the most celebrated Catherine Wheel of her day, and was renowned for her2 Jeremy Bloom graceful dancing. When she made her great public appearance she spun round nineteen times before she went out, and each time that she did so she threw into the air seven pink stars. My father was a Rocket like myself, and of French extraction. He flew so high that the people were afraid that he would never come down again. He did, though. He made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden rain. The newspapers wrote about his performance in very flattering terms. Indeed, the Court Gazette called hima triumph of Pyrotonic art. (He is so moved he gets lost in thought.) SQUIB. Py-ro-tonic? I think it's py-ro-technic, the word. It says so on my box. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Pyrotonic, that’s what I said. Anyway, I was saying, Iwas saying— What was I saying? ROMAN CANDLE. You were talking about yourself. REMARK ABLE ROCKET. Of course; I knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was so rudely interrupted. [hate rudeness and bad manners of every kind. I am extremely sensitive. No one in the whole world is so sensitive as Iam, Iam quite sure of that. SQUIB. (Quietly asks the ROMAN CANDLE: What is a sensitive person? ROMAN CANDLE. A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other people's toes. (SQUIB cracks up). REMARKABLE ROCKET. Pray, what are you laughing at? I am not laughing. SQUIB. I am laughing because Iam happy. REMARKABLE ROCKET. That is a very selfish reason. What right have you to be happy? You should be thinking about others. In fact, you should be thinking about me. I am always thinking about myself, and I expect everybody else to do the same. That is what is called sympathy. It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in ahigh degree. Suppose, for instance, anything happened to me to- night, what a misfortune that would be for every one! The Prince and Princess would never be happy again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King, I know he would not get over it Really, when I begin to reflect on the importance of my position, I am almost moved to tears. A BENGAL LIGHT. No tears! You had really better keep yourself dry. That is the important thing.Wilde Tales 43 SQUIB. Careful—even one tear will make you too damp to light. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Very important for you, [have no doubt, ‘but I shall weep if I choose. ALL. A teardrop! Another teardrop! ‘Yet another teardrop! CATHERINE WHEEL. He must have a truly zomantic nature, for ‘he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about. He's all wet, his face and body. He'll never be set off now. ROMAN CANDLE. Oh well. Humbug. SQUIB. Oh look, it’s night ALL. (Whispered:) The moon rises like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars begin to shine, the sound of wedding music fills the air. SQUIB. Oh look, it's midnight ALL. Here comes the royal pyrotechnist to set us off. THE KING. Let the fireworks begin. (One by one each firework ts sent off to his or her destiny.) THE KING. Huzzal Hazzal (The fireworks happen.) THE KING. And after the grand finale, the kingdom went to ‘bed, except of course for the crew of hundreds of street cleaners and pages who spent the night and the next several days cleaning the celebration’s detritus. A few pieces of trash were now the only remnants of the wedding: an abandoned streamer that swirled round and round in the breeze, some confetti too small to be picked ‘up, and the one unused rocket at the mercy of fate. (The REMARKABLE ROCKET is left alone onstage.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion, no doubt that is what it means. (Silence.) (Waiting) (PERSON comes along.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. This is evidently a deputation, I will receive them with becoming dignity. (It’s actually a trash person .. .) TRASH PERSON. Trash man, trash man, coming through—a“ Jeremy Bloom (He puts him in a trash bag) TRASH PERSON, What a bad rocket. The thing's useless. (The bag is tossed aside. The persistent presence of a buzzing dragonfly.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. Bad Rocket? Bad Rocket? Impossible! Grand Rocket, that is what the man said. Bad and Grand sound very much the same, indeed they often are the same. DRAGONELY. The trash bag landed in a swamp, the only one who noticed was a single dragonfly. (Waiting for something to happen, the REMARKABLE ROCKET comes out of the trash bag to look around.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. It is not comfortable here, but no doubt it is some fashionable watering-place, a spa that they have sent me away to recoup my health. My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and Irequire rest. (AFROG comes along.) FROG. Hey there—welcome to our humble swamp. You must be new to the muck, to the ditch, to the mud. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Ahem! Ahem! FROG. What a delightful voice you have! Really it is quite like a croak, and croaking is of course the most musical sound in the world. ‘You will hear our glee-club this evening. We sit in the old duck pond close by the farmer’s house, and as soon as the moon rises we begin. It is so entrancing that everybody lies awake to listen to us. In fact, it was only yesterday that I heard the farmer's wife say to her mother that she could not get a wink of sleep at night on account of us. It is most gratifying to find oneself so popular. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Ahem! Ahem! FROG. A delightful voice, certainly, I hope you will come over to the ducl-pond. REMARKABLEROCKET. Youare a very irritating person, and very ill-bred. I hate people who talk about themselves, as you do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as I do. It is what I calll selfishness, and selfishness is a most detestable thing, especially to any one of my temperament, for Iam well known for my sympathetic nature. In fact, you should take example by me; you could not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the chance you had better avail yourself of it, for I am going back to Court almost immediately. I am a great favorite at Court; in fact, the Prince and Princess wereWilde Tales mazried yesterday in my honor. Of course you know nothing of these maiters, for you are a provincial. (A DRAGONFLY who has been there a while says:) DRAGONFLY. There is no good talking to him—he's already left. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Well, that is his loss, not mine, Iam not going to stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention. I like hearing myself talk. DRAGONFLY. Clearly. REMARKABLE ROCKET. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. DRAGONFLY. Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy: REMARK ABLE ROCKET. How very silly of him not to stay here! Tam sure that he has not offen got such a chance of improving his mind. However, I don’t care. Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated some day. (A GOOSE swims by and says:) AGOOSE. What a curious shape you are! May Iask were you born like that, or is it the result of an accident? REMARKABLE ROCKET. It is quite evident that you have always lived out in the country, otherwise you would know who I am. I excuse your ignorance. You will no doubt be surprised to hear that Ican fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain. AGOOSE. I don’t think much of that, as I cannot see what use it is to any one. Now, if you could plough the fields like the ox, or draw a cart like the horse, or look after the sheep like the collie-dog, that would be something, REMARKABLE ROCKET. My good creature, I see that you belong to the lower orders. A person of my position is never useful. We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than sufficient. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do. A GOOSE. Well, well, everybody has different tastes. REMARKABLE ROCKET. I find this place rather tedious. There is neither society here, nor solitude. In fact, it is essentially suburban. I shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world. AGOOSE. Ishould get going.REMARKABLE ROCKET. I have not actually appeared myself, but when I do so it will be a magnificent sight. A GOOSE. Good day to you. (The GOOSE leaves.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. I am glad that he’s gone, that goose has a decidedly middle-class mind. (Waiting...) REMARKABLE ROCKET. It's rather lonely to be a genius. (Two KIDS arrive.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. This must be the deputation. AKID. Look at this old stick! I wonder how it came here. REMARKABLE ROCKET. Old Stick! Impossible! Gold Stick, that is what he said. Gold Stick is very complimentary. In fact, he mistakes me for one of the Court dignitaries! THE OTHER KID. Let us put it into the fire! It will help to boil the kettle. (They toss the rocket object into the hands of the rest of the cast who snap their fingers to pantomime a fire that continues to build and swell through the following. They Clap where noted.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. This is magnificent, they are going to let me off in broad day-light, so that every one can see me. AKID. We will go to sleep now, and when we wake up our kettle will be boiled. CATHERINE WHEEL'S GHOST. The poor rocket was so damp still all the way through, that it would take a very long time for him to burn, But eventually he did catch fire. REMARKABLE ROCKET. I shall ignite. I shall go higher than the stars, much higher than the moon and sun. I shall shoot straight up into the air til the world looks like a little ball below me. Rocketing so high up that all these characters I've met are small as dust. So high up that I'm two days past tomorrow: (Clap.) So high and fast away that my youth vanishes into thin ais. (Clap.) So shooting fizzing spectacular that the my features fade away into wishes. (Clap,) So dazzling fast that the earth forgets its name. Fizz! Fizz! Joy forever, I'm ready! I can do this! Delightful! I shall go on like this for ever. What a success I am!Wilde Tales 7 ‘What a curious tingling sensation all over— Now I am going to explode, I shall set the whole world on fire, and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for a whole year. (Clap,) (An explosion.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. I explode into the night. (ROCKET's death.) REMARKABLE ROCKET. I knew that I would create a great sensation. CATHERINE WHEEL'S GHOST. He certainly did explode. Bang went the gunpowder. There was no doubt about it. But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were sound asleep. Nobody saw him. REMARKABLE ROCKET. A great sensation. CATHERINE WHEEL'S GHOST. He becomes one or two golden embers that drift upward. His stick falls from the sky and a flock of geese stopping by a pond for a drink look up and say... ALL. (Whtspered:) Good heavens. It's going to rain sticks. REMARKABLE ROCKET. I knew I should create a great sensation. CATHERINE WHEEL'S GHOST. He becomes one or two golden embers that drift upward and he becomes a thousand little flaky ashes that fall like delicate snow. (Snow falls.) (CHILDREN emerge, as the snow becomes snowier,) (There is a necw sacred, carol-like song that swells with optimism and a sense that nature reigns supreme...) ALL. NATURE WHOSE SWEET RAINS FALL WILL HAVE CLEFTS IN THE ROCKS WHERE I MAY HIDE AND SECRET VALLEYS IN WHOSE SILENCE I MAY WEEP SHE WILL HANG THE NIGHT WITH STARS: SO THAT I MAY WALK ABROAD IN THE DARKNESS: WITHOUT STUMBLING SEND THE WIND OVER MY FOOTPRINTS (CLEANSE ME IN GREAT WATERS BITTER HERBS MAKE ME WHOLE End of Play