Tragedy of an Elderly Gentleman: A.D. 3000. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

be a butterfly, born in a bower,

      Making apple dumplings without any flour.

      THE WOMAN [smiling gravely] It must be at least a hundred and fifty years since I last laughed. But if you do that any more I shall certainly break out like a primary of sixty. Your dress is so extraordinarily ridiculous.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [halting abruptly in his antics] My dress ridiculous! I may not be dressed like a Foreign Office clerk; but my clothes are perfectly in fashion in my native metropolis, where yours—pardon my saying so—would be considered extremely unusual and hardly decent.

      THE WOMAN. Decent? There is no such word in our language. What does it mean?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. It would not be decent for me to explain. Decency cannot be discussed without indecency.

      THE WOMAN. I cannot understand you at all. I fear you have not been observing the rules laid down for shortlived visitors.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Surely, madam, they do not apply to persons of my age and standing. I am not a child, nor an agricultural laborer.

      THE WOMAN [severely] They apply to you very strictly. You are expected to confine yourself to the society of children under sixty. You are absolutely forbidden to approach fully adult natives under any circumstances. You cannot converse with persons of my age for long without bringing on a dangerous attack of discouragement. Do you realize that you are already shewing grave symptoms of that very distressing and usually fatal complaint?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Certainly not, madam. I am fortunately in no danger of contracting it. I am quite accustomed to converse intimately and at the greatest length with the most distinguished persons. If you cannot discriminate between hay fever and imbecility, I can only say that your advanced years carry with them the inevitable penalty of dotage.

      THE WOMAN. I am one of the guardians of this district; and I am responsible for your welfare—

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. The Guardians! Do you take me for a pauper?

      THE WOMAN. I do not know what a pauper is. You must tell me who you are, if it is possible for you to express yourself intelligibly—

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [snorts indignantly]!

      THE WOMAN [continuing]—and why you are wandering here alone without a nurse.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [outraged] Nurse!

      THE WOMAN. Shortlived visitors are not allowed to go about here without nurses. Do you not know that rules are meant to be kept?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. By the lower classes, no doubt. But to persons in my position there are certain courtesies which are never denied by well-bred people; and—

      THE WOMAN. There are only two human classes here: the shortlived and the normal. The rules apply to the shortlived, and are for their own protection. Now tell me at once who you are.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [impressively] Madam, I am a retired gentleman, formerly Chairman of the All-British Synthetic Egg and Vegetable Cheese Trust in Baghdad, and now President of the British Historical and Archaeological Society, and a Vice-President of the Travellers' Club.

      THE WOMAN. All that does not matter.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [again snorting] Hm! Indeed!

      THE WOMAN. Have you been sent here to make your mind flexible?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. What an extraordinary question! Pray do you find my mind noticeably stiff?

      THE WOMAN. Perhaps you do not know that you are on the west coast of Ireland, and that it is the practice among natives of the Eastern Island to spend some years here to acquire mental flexibility. The climate has that effect.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [haughtily] I was born, not in the Eastern Island, but, thank God, in dear old British Baghdad; and I am not in need of a mental health resort.

      THE WOMAN. Then why are you here?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Am I trespassing? I was not aware of it.

      THE WOMAN. Trespassing? I do not understand the word.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Is this land private property? If so, I make no claim. I proffer a shilling in satisfaction of damage (if any), and am ready to withdraw if you will be good enough to shew me the nearest way. [He offers her a shilling].

      THE WOMAN [taking it and examining it without much interest] I do not understand a single word of what you have just said.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I am speaking the plainest English. Are you the landlord?

      THE WOMAN [shaking her head] There is a tradition in this part of the country of an animal with a name like that. It used to be hunted and shot in the barbarous ages. It is quite extinct now.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [breaking down again] It is a dreadful thing to be in a country where nobody understands civilized institutions. [He collapses on the bollard, struggling with his rising sobs]. Excuse me. Hay fever.

      THE WOMAN [taking a tuning-fork from her girdle and holding it to her ear; then speaking into space on one note, like a chorister intoning a psalm] Burrin Pier Galway please send someone to take charge of a discouraged shortliver who has escaped from his nurse male harmless babbles unintelligibly with moments of sense distressed hysterical foreign dress very funny has curious fringe of white sea-weed under his chin.

      THE GENTLEMAN. This is a gross impertinence. An insult.

      THE WOMAN [replacing her tuning-fork and addressing the elderly gentleman] These words mean nothing to me. In what capacity are you here? How did you obtain permission to visit us?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [importantly] Our Prime Minister, Mr Badger Bluebin, has come to consult the oracle. He is my son-in-law. We are accompanied by his wife and daughter: my daughter and granddaughter. I may mention that General Aufsteig, who is one of our party, is really the Emperor of Turania travelling incognito. I understand he has a question to put to the oracle informally. I have come solely to visit the country.

      THE WOMAN. Why should you come to a place where you have no business?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Great Heavens, madam, can anything be more natural? I shall be the only member of the Travellers' Club who has set foot on these shores. Think of that! My position will be unique.

      THE WOMAN. Is that an advantage? We have a person here who has lost both legs in an accident. His position is unique. But he would much rather be like everyone else.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. This is maddening. There is no analogy whatever between the two cases.

      THE WOMAN. They are both unique.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Conversation in this place seems to consist of ridiculous quibbles. I am heartily tired of them.

      THE WOMAN. I conclude that your Travellers' Club is an assembly of persons who wish to be able to say that they have been in some place where nobody else has been.

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Of Course if you wish to sneer at us—

      THE WOMAN. What is sneer?

      THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [with a wild sob] I shall drown myself.

      He makes desperately for the edge of the pier, but is confronted by a man with the number one on his cap, who comes up the steps and intercepts him. He is dressed like the woman, but a slight moustache proclaims his sex.

      THE MAN [to the elderly gentleman] Ah, here you are. I shall really have to put a collar and lead on you if you persist in giving me the slip like this.

      THE WOMAN. Are you this stranger's nurse?

      THE MAN. Yes. I am very tired of him. If I take my eyes off him for a moment, he runs away and talks to everybody.

      THE WOMAN [after taking out her tuning-fork and sounding it, intones as before]