Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

pours out the water.]

      RICHARD. [Tasting it.] Ah, you’ve been up the street to the market gate spring to get that. [He takes a draught.] Delicious! Thank you. [Unfortunately, at this moment he chances to catch sight of Judith’s face, which expresses the most prudish disapproval of his evident attraction for Essie, who is devouring him with her grateful eyes. His mocking expression returns instantly. He puts down the glass; deliberately winds his arm round Essie’s shoulders; and brings her into the middle of the company. Mrs. Dudgeon being in Essie’s way as they come past the table, he says.] By your leave, mother. [And compels her to make way for them.] What do they call you? Bessie?

      ESSIE. Essie.

      RICHARD. Essie, to be sure. Are you a good girl, Essie?

      ESSIE. [Greatly disappointed that he, of all people should begin at her in this way.] Yes. [She looks doubtfully at Judith.] I think so. I mean I—I hope so.

      RICHARD. Essie: did you ever hear of a person called the devil?

      ANDERSON. [Revolted.] Shame on you, sir, with a mere child—

      RICHARD. By your leave, Minister: I do not interfere with your sermons: do not you interrupt mine. [To Essie.] Do you know what they call me, Essie?

      ESSIE. Dick.

      RICHARD. [Amused: patting her on the shoulder.] Yes, Dick; but something else too. They call me the Devil’s Disciple.

      ESSIE. Why do you let them?

      RICHARD. [Seriously.] Because it’s true. I was brought up in the other service; but I knew from the first that the Devil was my natural master and captain and friend. I saw that he was in the right, and that the world cringed to his conqueror only through fear. I prayed secretly to him; and he comforted me, and saved me from having my spirit broken in this house of children’s tears. I promised him my soul, and swore an oath that I would stand up for him in this world and stand by him in the next. [Solemnly.] That promise and that oath made a man of me. From this day this house is his home; and no child shall cry in it: this hearth is his altar; and no soul shall ever cower over it in the dark evenings and be afraid. Now. [Turning forcibly on the rest.] which of you good men will take this child and rescue her from the house of the devil?

      JUDITH. [Coming to Essie and throwing a protecting arm about her.] I will. You should be burnt alive.

      ESSIE. But I don’t want to. [She shrinks back, leaving Richard and JUDITH face to face.]

      RICHARD. [To Judith.] Actually doesn’t want to, most virtuous lady!

      UNCLE TITUS. Have a care, Richard Dudgeon. The law—

      RICHARD. [Turning threateningly on him.] Have a care, you. In an hour from this there will be no law here but martial law. I passed the soldiers within six miles on my way here: before noon Major Swindon’s gallows for rebels will be up in the market place.

      ANDERSON. [Calmly.] What have we to fear from that, sir?

      RICHARD. More than you think. He hanged the wrong man at Springtown: he thought Uncle Peter was respectable, because the Dudgeons had a good name. But his next example will be the best man in the town to whom he can bring home a rebellious word. Well, we’re all rebels; and you know it.

      ALL. THE MEN. [Except Anderson.] No, no, no!

      RICHARD. Yes, you are. You haven’t damned King George up hill and down dale as I have; but you’ve prayed for his defeat; and you, Anthony Anderson, have conducted the service, and sold your family bible to buy a pair of pistols. They mayn’t hang me, perhaps; because the moral effect of the Devil’s Disciple dancing on nothing wouldn’t help them. But a Minister! [Judith, dismayed, clings to Anderson.] or a lawyer! [Hawkins smiles like a man able to take care of himself.] or an upright horsedealer! [Uncle Titus snarls at him in rags and terror.] or a reformed drunkard. [Uncle William, utterly unnerved, moans and wobbles with fear.] eh? Would that show that King George meant business—ha?

      ANDERSON. [Perfectly self-possessed.] Come, my dear: he is only trying to frighten you. There is no danger. [He takes her out of the house. The rest crowd to the door to follow him, except Essie, who remains near Richard.]

      RICHARD. [Boisterously derisive.] Now then: how many of you will stay with me; run up the American flag on the devil’s house; and make a fight for freedom? [They scramble out, Christy among them, hustling one another in their haste.] Ha ha! Long live the devil! [To Mrs. Dudgeon, who is following them.] What mother! are you off too?

      MRS. DUDGEON. [Deadly pale, with her hand on her heart as if she had received a deathblow.] My curse on you! My dying curse! [She goes out.]

      RICHARD. [Calling after her.] It will bring me luck. Ha ha ha!

      ESSIE. [Anxiously.] Mayn’t I stay?

      RICHARD. [Turning to her.] What! Have they forgotten to save your soul in their anxiety about their own bodies? Oh yes: you may stay. [He turns excitedly away again and shakes his fist after them. His left fist, also clenched, hangs down. Essie seizes it and kisses it, her tears falling on it. He starts and looks at it.] Tears! The devil’s baptism! [She falls on her knees, sobbing. He stoops goodnaturedly to raise her, saying.] Oh yes, you may cry that way, Essie, if you like.