The Project Gutenberg eBook of Conquest; Or, A Piece of Jade; a New Play in Three Acts
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Conquest; Or, A Piece of Jade; a New Play in Three Acts
Author: Marie Carmichael Stopes
Release date: July 5, 2014 [eBook #46198]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: E-text prepared by Henry Flower and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONQUEST; OR, A PIECE OF JADE; A NEW PLAY IN THREE ACTS ***
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Conquest, by Marie Carmichael Stopes
| Note: | Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/conquestorpieceo00stop |
CONQUEST
OR
A PIECE OF JADE
A New Play in Three Acts by
Marie C. Stopes
D.Sc., Ph.D., F.R.S.Litt., etc.
1/- net
Copyright 1917 by DR. MARIE C. STOPES
New York
SAMUEL FRENCH
Publisher
28-30 West 38th Street
London
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.
26 Southampton Street
Strand
1917
Leatherhead, Surrey,
England.
Dear Mr. Delightfulest-Manager-in-the-World,—
I am sending you this play printed instead of type-written because I think you will find it much easier to slip into your pocket and read, and also because I don’t know your address, and printed books have a way of finding people without being addressed which typescripts have not yet learnt. So instead of sending my play round, in what people tell me is the usual way, to lots and lots of managers in typescript and wasting ever so much valuable time while they don’t read it, I am sending it to you direct, and hope you will like it. When you read it you will find that there is still another reason why I am glad to see it in print.
First let me have just one word in your ear, please: don’t look to see how many pages long it is, and (reckoning “a page a minute”) say it is too short to fill an evening, for I ought to tell you it is a full-length play but the printer is war-economising and has printed it all on fewer pages than he would have done in the days of Paper, Peace and Plenty long ago.
While I was writing the leading part I pictured one of our finest actresses in it, and she has read it and says the play is “simply splendid”: if you want her to take the part I will tell you her name and address, but she is such an angel she will forgive you if some one you love better seems to you to be the heroine.
Yours sincerely,
Marie C. Stopes.
Registered Copyright by Marie C. Stopes.
The Copyright of Conquest is the sole property of the author, to whom application should be made for a license to produce, translate, place on the cinematograph or use in any other way.
Addressing: Dr. Marie Stopes,
Craigvara, Leatherhead,
Surrey, England.
“CONQUEST,” or “A PIECE OF JADE.”
A New Play in Three Acts, by
MARIE C. STOPES.
Time: 1915. Place: New Zealand and London.
Act I.
An Out-station on the Hyde’s Sheep Farm,
New Zealand.
Afternoon.
Act II.
The Hyde’s Homestead, New Zealand.
Morning.
Three or four months elapse between Acts I. and II.
Act III.
The Duchess of Rainshire’s Drawing-room, London.
Evening.
About two months elapse between Acts II. and III.
“CONQUEST,” or “A PIECE OF JADE.”
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
In the order of their appearance:
- First Shepherd.
- Second Shepherd.
- Gordon Hyde, New Zealand Sheep Farmer.
- Roto, an old Maori.
- Nora Lee, A New Zealand Girl.
- Loveday Lewisham, Nora’s Cousin, out from England.
- Robert Hyde, New Zealand Sheep Farmer, Gordon’s Brother.
- John Varlie alias The Rev Dr. Chapman.
- Recruiting Officer.
- The Duchess of Rainshire.
- A Cabinet Minister.
- Smithers.
Also (Without words):
- Two (or Perhaps Three) Young Men in New Zealand Khaki.
- Ladies and Gentlemen, Guests at the Duchess’ Evening Party.
- Maid, Footman’s substitute in uniform.
- Two Plain Clothes Officers.
- One or Two Collie Dogs.
- Sheep—One, or More, if convenient.
“CONQUEST,”
OR
“A PIECE OF JADE.”
A New Play in Three Acts by
MARIE C. STOPES.
Act I.
The Scene is set in the hills of the sheep-raising
part of the S. Island of New
Zealand.
The back-cloth is painted with fine rocky and
wooded hills and lakes, rather like Scotland
but with a clearer, bluer sky and keener
atmosphere.
The stage represents a temporary camp in a
clearing, for the mustering and marking of
sheep. There are boulders and groups of
luxuriant trees. The grass is trampled
under foot. Right centre is an open
fire with cooking utensils. Back right
the corner of sheep enclosures. On LEFT is
a temporary cover, part canvas, part tree
branches.
Two Shepherds are DISCOVERED near the
fire, binding up the leg of a sheep. The
collie dogs prowl and lie around.
1st Shep.
(An old, wiry man.) A fine muster, this
year.
2nd Shep.
(A dour man, about 45 years old.) Aye.
1st Shep.
The best season I mind for ten years.
(Working with sheep’s leg.) Plague take
it, it’s slipped. Lie still you bleatin’ fule
ye! And sheep s’d fetch a guid price
this year and all.
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
I’m thinkin’ these sheep will be making
the fortune of the young masters, but they
do nought but make work for us.
2nd Shep.
(Spits.) Aye.
1st Shep.
The young masters must get an extra
man, we never had to handle so many
sheep.
2nd Shep.
Men’ll be scarce now.
1st Shep.
They will that. Do you hear they
recruitin’ fellows are scourin’ the country
for likely lads?
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
When did you know it?
2nd Shep.
’Bout a week ago.
1st Shep.
(Reproachfully.) And ye kept a tale like
that from me—and me that glad of any
bit of news in this lonesomeness. I call
that nasty of ye.
(2nd Shepherd is silent; spits slowly.)
I call that nasty of ye.
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
And what else do ye know ye might tell
me if—if, well, if I had a wee drop of
something to loosen your lips—(Pulls
out a flask and a tin cup and pours a
small drink—the dogs come up.) Down
Jock—get out Scottie. What news have ye
for this, eh?
(2nd Shepherd reaches out his hand.)
1st Shep.
Na-na. News first. It mayn’t be worth
it all.
2nd Shep.
The new young lady from England is
comin’ this afternoon.
1st Shep.
What young lady? Why don’t I know
a’ these wild doin’s? What’s she like.
Who’s she stayin’ with?
2nd Shep.
Old man Lee and his daughter.
1st Shep.
Have you seen her? What’s she like?
2nd Shep.
(Stretching out his hand for his drink.)
I’ve earned it.
1st Shep.
(Drawing it away.) Ye’ll tell me what
she’s like first.
2nd Shep.
A flower. You give it to me now.
1st Shep.
(Hands it grudgingly.) Well, perhaps
you desarve it. That’s news.
(He slowly fills a kettle out of a pail of water
which he observes with annoyance is nearly
empty and puts kettle on the fire.)
For why is she coming here?
2nd Shep.
London city was killin’ her. The doctor
ordered six months of healin’ air.
1st Shep.
If she’s as bonny as you say it’ll be joyful
doings for the young masters. Lasses are
scarce here.
2nd Shep.
There’s Nora Lee.
1st Shep.
Well, fule. She’s only one. We’ve got
two young masters, let alone the other
young chaps hereby.
2nd Shep.
Mister Gordon’s lame. What’d he do
with a girl?
1st Shep.
Only a bit lame, only a wee bit lame,
like—and he’s got a rare brain—look at
the exchange o’ reapers and such like he
rigged up for the freeholders around here.
He’s just chock full o’ ideas and always
dreamin’ and readin’ and talkin’ about ’em.
That’s what girls like. He’ll be as good
in a girl’s eyes as his brother—better I
shouldn’t wonder.
2nd Shep.
He’s no good for the war.
1st Shep.
And what matters that? Am I any good
for the war? Down Scottie, down will
ye! Yourself is not much good for the
war, and yet a pretty girl or two don’t
come amiss to your eyes even though they
never looked at ye. War! You’re crazy
on the war. Why man it’s more’n ten
thousand miles off and it’s a game for the
young chaps anyway.
2nd Shep.
It’s no game.
1st Shep.
It’ll raise the price of sheep. That’s one
thing I’m thinking. And we have more
sheep on this station to-day than there
have been in my memory. Aren’t there
now?
2nd Shep.
Aye.
(Gordon Hyde comes slowly on from right
wing, a fishing rod and bag of fish on his
shoulder. He is slight, bronzed, and with
a fine noble face. He limps, his leg
dragging. 1st Shepherd takes up a tin
of salmon and slowly begins to prepare to
open it.)
Gordon.
There’s a good haul for supper, lads.
(Throws down fish.)
(The Shepherds move a little from the fire
respectfully, but don’t touch their hats or
get up.)
1st Shep.
Aye, aye, Boss.
(He is just about to insert the tin opener,
Gordon suddenly notices him.)
Gordon.
What have you got there?
1st Shep.
A tin of salmon, Boss.
Gordon.
Stop opening it then. Use that fresh fish
instead. Tinned stuff is extra valuable
nowadays. It can be sent to the front.
We have time to think out here on these
hills. I have thought till my head reeled
and not yet found out what big things we
can do for our country, but the little duties
are clear enough, and one of ’em is not to
be wasteful.
2nd Shep.
Aye, Boss. That’s true.
(1st Shepherd shamefacedly lays down the
tin.)
1st Shep.
Eh, Boss, the sheep’s fine this year.
Gordon.
What is the full tally?
1st Shep.
Mr. Robert hasn’t come in yet, but from
what I’ve heard, it looks to be the best
year on this station.
Gordon.
Fine. We can’t have too much wool and
mutton this year.
(Roto comes on from left second Entrance, somewhat
staggering under two pails of water.
He is an old Maori, with straight black
hair turning white, and a few tatoo marks
on his face. He has high cheek bones, a
broad nose, and full lips, but is light brown
in colour and very intelligent and fine in
expression. He wears a short pair of
pants, and a piece of fine matting on his
shoulders, his scanty shirt is open at the
neck and a string with a carved green jade
charm is partly seen.)
Roto.
Here is the water for Miss Nora’s tea,
Boss.
1st Shep.
(To 2nd Shep.) She has an healthier
thirst than yours.
Gordon.
(Busying himself smoothing a seat of
fern.) She’ll be tired after that long ride.
1st Shep.
The other lady’ll be worse. She’s not
native born like Miss Nora.
Gordon.
(Quickly.) Her fine lady cousin! She’s
coming, of course. I’d forgotten! Here,
you chaps, get that place straight.
(Indicates the shelter, which shows a
disorder of blankets, etc.) What is this
sheep doing here?
1st Shep.
Her leg broke when she tried to push
through over a rocky bit. I have tethered
her down. The young lady may like to
pat her or tie a ribbon round her neck
perhaps.
Gordon.
(Grinning.) You old fool. All right.
Leave her. Go and straighten things up
a bit in the shelter. ’Tis like a pig-stye.
(A clatter of horses hoofs, shouts of “Whoa
there, Nellie. Here we are,” etc., is heard
without. Two Girls with riding hats
and whips ENTER front right wing.
Nora Lee is dainty with light hair and a
rather sunburnt face and neck. She has
pale lashes; she is petite and pretty and
rather self-assured. She advances laughing.)
Nora.
Here we are!
Gordon.
(Springing up and limping hurriedly to
meet her, taking off his hat.) Oh, Nora,
I’m glad you’ve come.
Nora.
Where is Robert?
Gordon.
Out with the men. He’ll be back by
tea-time.
(Loveday stands a little back looking round
and waiting. She is taller than Nora; a
splendidly built, dark-haired and beautiful
woman, with a clear skin, deep searching
eyes, regular features. She walks like a
Queen and has a deep-toned, but soft and
thrilling voice. She is all in white.)
Nora.
This is my cousin, Loveday Lewisham,
Gordon.
(Loveday smiles, comes forward and shakes
hands with Gordon.)
You know I told you all about her, and
how she broke down with war-work in
England and is going to make her home
with us for six months. You know.
Gordon.
I do know. (Smiles.) I wish you welcome,
Miss Lewisham.
Nora.
Loveday.
Gordon.
Yes. This is a friendly country. My
name is Gordon.
Loveday.
How beautiful that view is. And what a
ride we had. Three hours of fairyland!
Nora.
Oh, that’s nothing! Let us show her
everything. Where’s old Roto? She
wants to see a Maori. And where is
Robert?
Gordon.
I’ll coo-ee for Robert.
(His coo-ee is long and penetrating so that it
re-echoes.)
And there is Roto. Hi. Come along,
Roto. Miss Nora wants to show you off.
(Roto advances from shelter, which is now in
better order, the blankets piled up, etc.)
Roto.
(Grinning.) Here, Miss Nora.
Nora.
Good-day, Roto. See, Loveday. This is
a real live Maori. Nothing wonderful
after all!
Loveday.
Oh, how do you do?
Roto.
Finely, Miss.
Loveday.
(Smiling winningly.) You are not nearly
so terrifying as I expected!
Roto.
(Grinning, pleased.) Maoris not allowed
to be terrible now, Miss.
Loveday.
That is a shame. I’d so much rather be
a savage myself. What do you do now
they won’t let you be a savage any more?
Roto.
Help with the sheep and cook.
Loveday.
(Stooping forward and taking hold of
Roto’s green jade charm hanging on its
long string round his neck.) And what is
that queer thing you wear round your
neck?
Nora.
(Hastily.) A jade charm—these natives
often wear them. They are very superstitious.
Gordon.
The Maoris believe in all sorts of charms
and magic and spirits. They have a
legend about these forests, for instance,
that a goddess of wisdom lives in these
hill tops and is a tree by day and a white
woman at night.
Loveday.
(Her eyes sparkling). Have you seen her?
Gordon.
Not yet—but sometimes—
Loveday.
But sometimes—go on—do tell me—
Gordon.
Sometimes after a day alone in these
forests, at sunset, when the heavens seem
opening, one half imagines Wisdom is just
behind one, slipping between the trees—I
(hesitates).
Loveday.
What an enchanting country. Tell me—
(Sounds of arrival disturb them. Robert
Hyde enters. He is like Gordon, but
much sturdier. He is very strong and
manly, with a more sensual and less
spiritual face. A very good fellow.)
Nora.
Here’s Robert. Robert! I have brought
Loveday. This is Loveday Lewisham.
She arrived last week, when you were out
here. She would come so as to see a camp
before you break it up. She wants to see
everything.
(Robert and Loveday shake hands. Robert
is evidently much impressed.)
Robert.
I’ll show her. (Goes over towards fire,
and points to sheep enclosures at back.)
Do you see those? That’s just the beginning
of them. We have a rare good
lot of sheep this year.
Loveday.
I am glad. We need everything good we
can get this year.
Robert.
We need everything we can get every
year.
Loveday.
But this year specially. There are so
many people in England who need extra
feeding and clothing. Your sheep will be
useful.
Robert.
I hadn’t thought of that.
Gordon.
Wool and mutton! Both necessaries. Of
course we’ve all thought of that, Robert.
Nora.
Loveday is simply obsessed with the idea
of the war, and says we ought not to have
any luxuries.
2nd Shep.
Aye. She’s right.
Loveday.
What is that sheep doing? (Goes toward
the lame sheep by the fire.)
Robert.
I dunno. Sick, I expect. Here, Roto.
What is that sheep here for?
Roto.
Leg broke, Boss.
Loveday.
Oh, isn’t it thirsty? Look how its tongue
hangs out. Let me give it some water.
Robert.
(Smiling.) It doesn’t want water.
Loveday.
Are sheep like rabbits? Don’t they need
water?
Roto.
(Laughing.) Rabbits!
Robert.
(Smiling.) Don’t you speak of rabbits to
a New Zealander! Rabbits are the very
devil here! We poison ’em, we shoot
’em, we trap ’em, we set dogs on ’em, we
set stoats on to ’em, we imported weasels
to catch ’em, we sent to Europe for ferrets
to hike ’em out, we breed cats to catch
’em, we wire ’em in, and burn ’em out,
and set poisoned corn over their runs, and
kill ’em by thousands—but millions of ’em
spring up out of the very earth and sometimes
threaten to starve out the sheep, they
clear the grass out. Rabbits! For the
Lord’s sake don’t speak affectionately of
rabbits.
Loveday.
(Laughing mischievously.) Darling little
furry things with nice white tails!
Robert.
(Groans.) But you’re joking! Come
and I’ll show you why we sheep farmers
hate ’em like poison.
(They stroll off together. Roto takes the empty
pail and goes off. Nora and Gordon are
left together.)
Gordon.
(Eagerly going, with a possessive air
toward Nora.) Oh, it is wonderful to
see you again!
Nora.
(Pertly, teasing him and evidently enjoying
it.) Women are scarce here, I know,
but there’s nothing else wonderful about
me.
Gordon.
For me you are the dream of God which
stirs the woodland, you are—(noting her
unresponsive face). I say, do sit down.
You’ll be tired after that ride. Let me
take your whip. Take your gloves off.
Those little hands must ache after holding
the reins for three hours.
Nora.
Pooh! I like having the reins in my own
hands.
Gordon.
And so you should, they are such clever
little hands.
Nora.
(Yawns affectedly.) Gordon, you’re a
romantic goose.
Gordon.
I’m not. Everyone thinks you are
wonderful, ask—
Nora.
Robert doesn’t think I’m at all wonderful.
Gordon.
Of course he does.
Nora.
Then why doesn’t he tell me?
Gordon.
He—he’s shy. But besides, though all
men may think such things about a girl,
they only say them when they love her.
Nora.
(Quizzically.) So you love me?
Gordon.
(Tenderly.) Is it a hundred or a hundred
and one times I have told you so?
Nora.
And what have I answered a hundred or a
hundred and one times?
Gordon.
You have never once said no!
Nora.
I didn’t ask you what I didn’t say, but
what I did say. And what did I say?
Gordon.
(Persuasively.) Say something different
this time. You can’t always be cruel,
with that sweet face you have.
Nora.
Oh, can’t I?
Gordon.
Don’t be, then.
Nora.
Besides I’m not cruel. You love me.
That is very nice for you. Being in love
is nice. Isn’t it?
Gordon.
Being in love with you would make the
world a heaven if only you were kind!
Nora.
I am kind—to myself. Being not in love
with you is much kinder to myself than
what you ask. You want me to be happy,
don’t you?
Gordon.
Of course! I’d die to make you happy!
Nora.
I don’t ask that. I only ask you not to
talk of love.
Gordon.
How can I not talk of it when I love you?
Nora.
(Turning away.) Well, if you are willing
to die for me, why not stop loving me?
Gordon.
No man could.
Nora.
(Flattered.) ’Um. Perhaps. But a man
could stop talking about it. Talk of something
else—anything interesting. What
is Robert doing away so long?
Gordon.
(Checking his tenderness with an effort,
speaking in off-hand tones.) Shewing
Miss Loveday the sheep. I say, she’s
handsome.
Nora.
Oh? I don’t think so. But you will be
soon making love to her I see. I needn’t
have worried about your worrying me for
long.
Gordon.
Don’t say that, Nora. You know you are
every beautiful thing to me. I hear your
sweet voice every time the bell bird calls.
I see your hair in the golden clouds after
the sunset; I think of you and the home
nest you are making somewhere, particularly
when I am out here sleeping out of
doors. You know I never shall think
there is anyone in the world like you.
Nora.
(Peremptorily.) Stop! Where are Robert
and Loveday? Call them, Gordon.
(Gordon coo-ees. An answer is heard.)
Gordon.
(With a little gust of temper.) You try
to prevent us being alone. You grudge
me these few minutes. It is cruel.
Nora.
Oh. La-la-la! (Whistles a snatch of
tune.)
(Loveday and Robert return, conversing.
Loveday comes quickly across to Nora.)