by Dan Laurence
EPIFANIA [holding him] But this is your work. What else have you to do?
THE DOCTOR. There is a good deal to be done in the world besides attending the rich imaginary invalids.
EPIFANIA. But if you are well paid?
THE DOCTOR. I make the little money I need by work which I venture to think more important.
EPIFANIA [throwing him away and moving about distractedly] You are a pig and a beast and a Bolshevik. It is the most abominable thing of you to leave me here in my distress. My car is gone. I have no money. I never carry money about.
THE DOCTOR. I have none to carry. Your car will return presently. You can borrow money from your chauffeur.
EPIFANIA. You are an unmitigated hippopotamus. You are a Bashibazouk. I might have known it from your ridiculous tarboosh. You should take it off in my presence. [She snatches it from his head and holds it behind her back]. At least have the manners to stay with me until my chauffeur comes back.
The motor horn is heard honking.
THE DOCTOR. He has come back.
EPIFANIA. Damn! Cant you wait until he has had his tea and a cigaret?
THE DOCTOR. No. Be good enough to give me back my fez.
EPIFANIA. I wanted to see what you looked like without it. [She puts it tenderly on his head]. Listen to me. You are having an adventure. Have you no romance in you? Havnt you even common curiosity? Dont you want to know why I threw that beast downstairs? Dont you want to throw your wretched work to the devil for once and have an afternoon on the river with an interesting and attractive woman?
THE DOCTOR. Women are neither interesting nor attractive to me except when they are ill. I know too much about them, inside and out. You are perfectly well.
EPIFANIA. Liar. Nobody is perfectly well, nor ever has been, nor ever will be. [She sits down, sulking].
THE DOCTOR. That is true. You must have brains of a sort. [He sits down opposite to her]. I remember when I began as a young surgeon I killed several patients by my operations because I had been taught that I must go on cutting until there was nothing left but perfectly healthy tissue. As there is no such thing as perfectly healthy tissue I should have cut my patients entirely away if the nurse had not stopped me before they died on the table. They died after they left the hospital; but as they were carried away from the table alive I was able to claim a successful operation. Are you married?
EPIFANIA. Yes. But you need not be afraid. My husband is openly unfaithful to me and cannot take you into court if you make love to me. I can divorce him if necessary.
THE DOCTOR. And the man you threw downstairs: who was he? One does not throw one’s husband downstairs. Did he make love to you?
EPIFANIA. No. He insulted my father’s memory because he was disappointed with his lunch here. When I think of my father all ordinary men seem to me the merest trash. You are not an ordinary man. I should like to see some more of you. Now that you have asked me confidential questions about my family, and I have answered them, you can no longer pretend that you are not my family doctor. So that is settled.
THE DOCTOR. A father fixation, did you say?
EPIFANIA [nods]!
THE DOCTOR. And an excess of money?
EPIFANIA. Only a beggarly thirty millions.
THE DOCTOR. A psychological curiosity. I will consider it.
EPIFANIA. Consider it! You will feel honored, gratified, delighted.
THE DOCTOR. I see. Enormous self-confidence. Reckless audacity. Insane egotism. Apparently sexless.
EPIFANIA. Sexless! Who told you that I am sexless?
THE DOCTOR. You talk to me as if you were a man. There is no mystery, no separateness, no sacredness about men to you. A man to you is only a male of your species.
EPIFANIA. My species indeed! Men are a different and very inferior species. Five minutes conversation with my husband will convince you that he and I do not belong to the same species. But there are some great men, like my father. And there are some good doctors, like you.
THE DOCTOR. Thank you. What does your regular doctor say about you?
EPIFANIA. I have no regular doctor. If I had I should have an operation a week until there was nothing left of me or of my bank balance. I shall not expect you to maul me about with a stethoscope, if that is what you are afraid of. I have the lungs of a whale and the digestion of an ostrich. I have a clockwork inside. I sleep eight hours like a log. When I want anything I lose my head so completely about it that I always get it.
THE DOCTOR. What things do you want mostly?
EPIFANIA. Everything. Anything. Like a lightning flash. And then there is no stopping me.
THE DOCTOR. Everything and anything is nothing.
EPIFANIA. Five minutes ago I wanted you. Now I have got you.
THE DOCTOR. Come! You cannot bluff a doctor. You may want the sun and the moon and the stars; but you cannot get them.
EPIFANIA. That is why I take good care not to want them. I want only what I can get.
THE DOCTOR. Good. A practical intellect. And what do you want at present, for instance?
EPIFANIA. That is the devil of it. There is nothing one can get except more money.
THE DOCTOR. What about more men?
EPIFANIA. More Alastairs! More Blenderblands! Those are not deep wants. At present I want a motor launch.
THE DOCTOR. There is no such thing in this little place.
EPIFANIA. Tell the landlord to stop the first one that comes along and buy it.
THE DOCTOR. Tcha! People will not sell their boats like that.
EPIFANIA. Have you ever tried?
THE DOCTOR. No.
EPIFANIA. I have. When I need a car or a motor boat or a launch or anything like that I buy straight off the road or off the river or out of the harbor. These things cost thousands when they are new; but next day you cannot get fifty pounds for them. Offer £300 for any of them, and the owner dare not refuse: he knows he will never get such an offer again.
THE DOCTOR. Aha! You are a psychologist. This is very interesting.
EPIFANIA. Nonsense! I know how to buy and sell, if that is what you mean.
THE DOCTOR. That is how good psychologists make money.
EPIFANIA. Have you made any?
THE DOCTOR. No. I do not care for money: I care for knowledge.
EPIFANIA. Knowledge is no use without money. Are you married?
THE DOCTOR. I am married to Science. One wife is enough for me, though by my religion I am allowed four.
EPIFANIA. Four! What do you mean?
THE DOCTOR. I am what you call a Mahometan.
EPIFANIA. Well, you will have to be content with two wives if you marry me.
THE DOCTOR. Oh! Is there any question of that between us?
EPIFANIA. Yes. I want to marry you.
THE DOCTOR. Nothing doing, lady. Science is my bride.
EPIFANIA. You can have Science as well: I shall not be jealous of her. But I made a solemn promise to my father on his deathbed –
THE DOCTOR [interrupting] Stop. I had better tell you that I made a solemn promise to my mother on her deathbed.
EPIFANIA. What!!!
THE DOCTOR. My mother was a very wise woman. She made me swear to her that if any woman wanted to marry me, and I felt tempted, I would hand the woman two hundred piastres and tell her unless she would go out into the world with nothing but that and the clothes she stood in, and earn her living alone and unaided for six months, I would never speak to her again.
EPIFANIA. And if she stood the test?
THE DOCTOR. Then I must marry her even if she were the ugliest devil on earth.
EPIFANIA. And you dare ask me – me, Epifania Ognisanti di Parerga! to submit myself to this test – to any test!
THE DOCTOR. I swore. I have a mother fixation. Allah has willed it so. I cannot help myself.
EPIFANIA. What was your mother?
THE DOCTOR. A washerwoman. A widow. She brought up eleven children. I was the youngest, the Benjamin. The other ten are honest work
ing folk. With their help she made me a man of learning. It was her ambition to have a son who could read and write. She prayed to Allah; and he endowed me with the necessary talent.
EPIFANIA. And you think I will allow myself to be beaten by an old washerwoman?
THE DOCTOR. I am afraid so. You could never pass the test.
EPIFANIA. Indeed! And my father’s test for a husband worthy of me?
THE DOCTOR. Oh! The husband is to be tested! That never occurred to me.
EPIFANIA. Nor to your mother either, it seems. Well, you know better now. I am to give you a hundred and fifty pounds. In six months you are to increase it to fifty thousand. How is that for a test?
THE DOCTOR. Quite conclusive. At the end of the six months I shall not have a penny of it left, praise be to Allah.
EPIFANIA. You confess yourself beaten?
THE DOCTOR. Absolutely. Completely.
EPIFANIA. And you think I am beaten too.
THE DOCTOR. Hopelessly. You do not know what homeless poverty is; and Allah the Compassionate will take care that you never do.
EPIFANIA. How much is two hundred piastres?
THE DOCTOR. At the rate of exchange contemplated by my mother, about thirtyfive shillings.
EPIFANIA. Hand it over.
THE DOCTOR. Unfortunately my mother forgot to provide for this contingency. I have not got thirtyfive shillings. I must borrow them from you.
EPIFANIA. I have not a penny on me. No matter: I will borrow it from the chauffeur. He will lend you a hundred and fifty pounds on my account if you dare ask him. Goodbye for six months. [She goes out].
THE DOCTOR. There is no might and no majesty save in Thee, O Allah; but, oh! most Great and Glorious, is this another of Thy terrible jokes?
ACT III
A basement in the Commercial Road. An elderly man, anxious, poor, and ratlike, sits at a table with his wife. He is poring over his accounts. She, on his left, is sewing buttons on a coat, working very fast. There is a pile of coats on the table to her right waiting to have buttons sewn on, and another to her left which she has finished. The table is draped down to the ground with an old cloth. Some daylight comes in down the stone stairs; but does not extend to the side where the couple sit, which is lighted by a small electric bulb on a wire. Between the stairs and the table a dirty old patched curtain hangs in front of an opening into a farther compartment.
A bell tinkles. The woman instantly stops sewing and conceals the piles of coats under the table. Epifania, her dress covered by an old waterproof, and wearing an elaborately damaged hat, comes down the stairs. She looks at the pair; then looks round her; then goes to the curtain and looks through. The old man makes a dash to prevent her, but is too late. He snatches the curtain from her and bars her passage.
THE MAN. What do you want? What are you doing here?
EPIFANIA. I want employment. A woman told me I should find it here. I am destitute.
THE MAN. Thats not the way to get employment: poking your nose into places that dont concern you. Get out. There are no women employed here.
EPIFANIA. You lie. There are six women working in there. Who employs them?
THE MAN. Is that the way to talk to me? You think a lot of yourself, dont you? What do you take me for?
EPIFANIA. A worm.
THE MAN [making a violent demonstration]!!
EPIFANIA. Take care. I can use my fists. I can shoot, if necessary.
THE WOMAN [hurrying to the man and holding him] Take care, Joe. She’s an inspector. Look at her shoes.
EPIFANIA. I am not an inspector. And what is the matter with my shoes, pray?
THE WOMAN [respectfully] Well maam, could a woman looking for work at tuppence hapeny an hour afford a west end shoe like that? I assure you we dont employ any women here. We’re only caretakers.
EPIFANIA. But I saw six women –
THE MAN [throwing open the curtain] Where? Not a soul. Search the whole bloody basement.
THE WOMAN. Hush, hush, Joe: dont speak to the lady like that. You see, maam: theres not a soul.
EPIFANIA. Theres a smell. You have given them a signal to hide. You are breaking the law. Give me some work or I will send a postcard to the Home Office.
THE MAN. Look here, lady. Cant we arrange this? What good will it do you to get me into trouble and shut up my little shop?
EPIFANIA. What good will it do me to say nothing?
THE MAN. Well, what about half a crown a week?
EPIFANIA. I cannot live on half a crown a week.
THE MAN. You can if you look round a bit. There are others, you know.
EPIFANIA. Give me the address of the others. If I am to live by blackmail I must have an extended practice.
THE MAN. Well, if I have to pay I dont see why the others shouldnt too. Will you take half a crown? [He holds up half a crown]. Look here! Look at it! Listen to it! [He rings it on the table]. It’s yours, and another every Wednesday if you keep the inspector off me.
EPIFANIA. It’s no use ringing half crowns at me: I am accustomed to them. And I feel convinced that you will pay five shillings if I insist.
THE WOMAN. Oh, maam, have some feeling for us. You dont know the struggle we have to live.
THE MAN [roughly] Here: we’re not beggars. I’ll pay what the business can afford and not a penny more. You seem to know that it can afford five shillings. Well, if you know that, you know that it cant afford any more. Take your five shillings and be damned to you. [He flings two half crowns on the table].
THE WOMAN. Oh, Joe, dont be so hasty.
THE MAN. You shut up. You think you can beg a shilling or two off: but you cant. I can size up a tough lot without looking at her shoes. She’s got us; and she knows she’s got us.
EPIFANIA. I do not like this blackmailing business. Of course if I must I must; but can you not give me some manual work?
THE MAN. You want to get a little deeper into our business, dont you?
EPIFANIA. I am as deep as I can go already. You are employing six women in there. The thing in the corner is a gas engine: that makes you a workshop under the Act. Except that the sanitary arrangements are probably abominable, there is nothing more for me to know. I have you in the hollow of my hand. Give me some work that I can live by or I will have you cleared out like a wasp’s nest.
THE MAN. I have a good mind to clear out now and take some place where you wont find me so easy. I am used to changing my address.
EPIFANIA. That is the best card in your hand. You have some business ability. Tell me why you cannot give me work to live by just as you give it, I suppose, to the women I saw in there.
THE MAN. I dont like the people I employ to know too much.
EPIFANIA. I see. They might call in the inspector.
THE MAN. Call in the inspector! What sort of fool are you? They dread the inspector more than I do.
EPIFANIA. Why? Dont they want to be protected?
THE WOMAN. The inspector wouldnt protect them, maam: he’d only shut up the place and take away their job from them. If they thought youd be so cruel as to report them theyd go down on their knees to you to spare them.
THE MAN. You that know such a lot ought to know that a business like this cant afford any luxuries. It’s a cheap labor business. As long as I get women to work for their natural wage, I can get along; but no luxuries, mind you. No trade union wages. No sanitary arrangements as you call them. No limewashings every six months. No separate rooms to eat in. No fencing in of dangerous machinery or the like of that: not that I care; for I have nothing but the old gas engine that wouldnt hurt a fly, though it brings me under the blasted Workshop Act as you spotted all right. I have no big machinery; but I have to undersell those that have it. If I put up my prices by a farthing theyd set their machinery going and drop me. You might as well ask me to pay trade union wages as do all that the inspector wants: I should be out of business in a week.
EPIFANIA. And what is a woman’s natural wage?
THE MAN. Tuppence hapeny
an hour for twelve hours a day.
EPIFANIA. Slavery!
THE WOMAN. Oh no, maam: nobody could call that slavery. A good worker can make from twelve to fifteen shillings a week at it, week in and week out.
