[He is silent for a while. Suddenly he lifts his head.
My room at Eton, Dick said. An untidy mess.
[As he lifts his head and says these words, twilight gives place to broad daylight, merely as a hint that the author of the play may have been mistaken, and the whole thing may have been no more than a poet's dream.
So it was, and it's an untidy mess there (looking at screen) too. Dick's right. I'll tidy it up. I'll burn the whole damned heap,
[He advances impetuously towards the screen.
every damned poem that I was ever fool enough to waste my time on.
[He pushes back the screen. Fame in a Greek dress with a long golden trumpet in her hand is seen standing motionless on the altar like a marble goddess.
So ... you have come!
[For a while he stands thunderstruck. Then he approaches the altar.
Divine fair lady, you have come.
[He holds up his hand to her and leads her down from the altar and into the centre of the stage. At whatever moment the actor finds it most convenient, he repossesses himself of the sonnet that he had placed on the altar. He now offers it to Fame.
This is my sonnet. Is it well done?
[Fame takes it and reads it in silence, while the Poet watches her rapturously.
Fame: You're a bit of all right.
de Reves: What?
Fame: Some poet.
de Reves: I—I—scarcely ... understand.
Fame: You're IT.
de Reves: But ... it is not possible ... are you she that knew Homer?
Fame: Homer? Lord, yes. Blind old bat, 'e couldn't see a yard.
de Reves: O Heavens!
[Fame walks beautifully to the window. She opens it and puts her head out.
Fame (in a voice with which a woman in an upper storey would cry for help if the house was well alight): Hi! Hi! Boys! Hi! Say, folks! Hi!
[The murmur of a gathering crowd is heard. Fame blows her trumpet.
Fame: Hi, he's a poet! (Quickly, over her shoulder.) What's your name?
de Reves: De Reves.
Fame: His name's de Reves.
de Reves: Harry de Reves.
Fame: His pals call him Harry.
The Crowd: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
Fame: Say, what's your favourite colour?
de Reves: I ... I ... I don't quite understand.
Fame: Well, which do you like best, green or blue?
de Reves: Oh—er—blue.
[She blows her trumpet out of the window.
No—er—I think green.
Fame: Green is his favourite colour.
The Crowd: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
Fame: 'Ere, tell us something. They want to know all about yer.
de Reves: Wouldn't9 you perhaps ... would they care to hear my sonnet, if you would—er ...
Fame (picking up quill): Here, what's this?
de Reves: Oh, that's my pen.
Fame (after another blast on her trumpet): He writes with a quill.
[Cheers from the Crowd.
Fame (going to a cupboard): Here, what have you got in here?
de Reves: Oh ... er ... those are my breakfast things.
Fame (finding a dirty plate): What have yer had on this one?
de Reves (mournfully): Oh, eggs and bacon.
Fame (at the window): He has eggs and bacon for breakfast.
The Crowd: Hip hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip hip, hooray!
Fame: Hi, and what's this?
de Reves (miserably): Oh, a golf stick.
Fame: He's a man's man! He's a virile man! He's a manly man!
[Wild cheers from the Crowd, this time only from women's voices.
de Reves: Oh, this is terrible. This is terrible. This is terrible.
[Fame gives another peal on her horn. She is about to speak.
de Reves (solemnly and mournfully): One moment, one moment ...
Fame: Well, out with it.
de Reves: For ten years, divine lady, I have worshipped you, offering all my songs ... I find ... I find I am not worthy....
Fame: Oh, you're all right.
de Reves: No, no, I am not worthy. It cannot be. It cannot possibly be. Others deserve you more. I must say it! I cannot possibly love you. Others are worthy. You will find others. But I, no, no, no. It cannot be. It cannot be. Oh, pardon me, but it must not.
[Meanwhile Fame has been lighting one of his cigarettes. She sits in a comfortable chair, leans right back, and puts her feet right up on the table amongst the poet's papers.
Oh, I fear I offend you. But—it cannot be.
Fame: Oh, that's all right, old bird; no offence. I ain't going to leave you.
de Reves: But—but—but—I do not understand.
Fame: I've come to stay, I have.
[She blows a puff of smoke through her trumpet.
[Transcriber's Note: Footnotes indicate where typographical errors in the original edition have been corrected.]
1 Corrected from "eaxct"
2 Corrected from "wouln't"
3 Corrected from "Mrs. Splurge"
4 An unmatched parenthesis has been deleted
5 Corrected from "Neek"
6 Corrected from "Neek"
7 Corrected from "scuptors"
8 Corrected from "Hamlet's"
9 Corrected from "Wouln't"