A BAD NIGHTDRAMATIS PERSONF.VILLIAMa SenNEEDLESONa SidniducSMILERa ScheisterKI-YIa TraderGRIMGHASTa SpaderSARALTHIAa Love-lorn NymphNELLIBRACa SweetunA BODY; A GHOST; AN UNMENTIONABLE THING; SKULLS;HOODOOS; ETC.Scene—a Cemetery in San Francisco.Saralthia, Nellibrac, Grimghast.SARALTHIA:The red half-moon is dipping to the west,And the cold fog invades the sleeping land.Lo! how the grinning skulls in the level lightLitter the place! Methinks that every skullIs a most lifelike portrait of my Sen,Drawn by the hand of Death; each fleshless pate,Cursed with a ghastly grin to eyes unrubbedWith love's magnetic ointment, seems to mineTo smile an amiable smile like hisWhose amiable smile I—I aloneAm able to distinguish from his leer!See how the gathering coyotes flitThrough the lit spaces, or with burning eyesStar the black shadows with a steadfast gaze!About my feet the poddy toads at play,Bulbously comfortable, try to hop,And tumble clumsily with all their warts;While pranking lizards, sliding up and downMy limbs, as they were public roads, impartA singularly interesting chill.The circumstance and passion of the time,The cast and manner of the place—the spiritOf this confederate environment,Command the rights we come to celebrateObedient to the Inspired Hag—The seventh daughter of the seventh daughter,Who rules all destinies from Minna street,A dollar a destiny. Here at this grave,Which for my purposes thou, Jack of Spades—(To Grimghast)Corrupter than the thing that reeks below—Hast opened secretly, we'll work the charm.Now what's the hour?(Distant clock strikes thirteen.)Enough—hale forth the stiff!(Grimghast by means of a boat-hook stands the coffin on endin the excavation; the lid crumbles, exposing the remains of aman.)Ha! Master Mouldybones, how fare you, sir?THE BODY:Poorly, I thank your ladyship; I missSome certain fingers and an ear or two.There's something, too, gone wrong with my inside,And my periphery's not what it was.How can we serve each other, you and I?NELLIBRAC:O what a personable man!(Blushes bashfully, drops her eyes and twists the corner ofher apron.)SARALTHIA:Yes, dear,A very proper and alluring male,And quite superior to Lubin Rroyd,Who has, however, this distinct advantage—He is alive.GRIMGHAST:Missus, these yer remainsWas the boss singer back in '72,And used to allers git invites to goDown to Swellmont and sing at every feed.In t'other Villiam's time, that was, aforeThe gent that you've hooked onto bought the place.THE BODY(singing):Down among the sainted deadMany years I lay;Beetles occupied my head,Moles explored my clay.There we feasted day and night—I and bug and beast;They provided appetiteAnd I supplied the feast.The raven is a dicky-bird,SARALTHIA(singing):The jackal is a daisy,NELLIBRAC(singing):The wall-mouse is a worthy third,A SPOOK(singing):But mortals all are crazy.CHORUS OF SKULLS:O mortals all are crazy,Their intellects are hazy;In the growing moon they shake their shoonAnd trip it in the mazy.But when the moon is waning,Their senses they're regaining:They fall to prayer and from their hairRemove the straws remaining.SARALTHIA:That's right, Rogues Gallery, pray keep it up:Your song recalls my Villiam's "Auld Lang Syne,"What time he came and (like an amorous birdThat struts before the female of its kind,Warbling to cave her down the bank) piped highHis cracked falsetto out of reach. Enough—Now let's to business. Nellibrac, sweet child,St. Cloacina's future devotee,The time is ripe and rotten—gut the grip!(Nellibrac brings forward a valise and takes from it fivearticles of clothing, which, one by one, she lays upon the pointsof a magic pentagram that has thoughtfully inscribed itself inlines of light on the wet grass. The Body holds its late lamentednose.)NELLIBRAC(singing):Fragrant socks, by Villiam's toesConsecrated to the nose;Shirt that shows the well worn trackOf the knuckles of his back,Handkerchief with mottled stains,Into which he blew his brains;Collar crying out for soap—Prophet of the future rope;An unmentionable thingIt would sicken me to sing.UNMENTIONABLE THING(aside):What!Iunmentionable? Just you wait!In all the family journals of the StateYou'll sometime see that I'm described at length,With supereditorial grace and strength.SARALTHIA(singing):Throw them in the open tombThey will cause his love to bloomWith an amatory boom!CHORUS OF INVISIBLE HOODOOS:Hoodoo, hoodoo, voudou-vetVilliam struggles in the net!By the power and intentOf the charm his strength is spent!By the virtue in each ragBlessed by the Inspired HagHe will be a willing victimLimp as if a donkey kicked him!By this awful incantationWe decree his animation—By the magic of our artWarm the cockles of his heart,Villiam, if alive or dead,Thou Saralthia shalt wed!(They cast the garments into the grave and push over thecoffin. Grimghast fills up the hole. Hoodoos gradually becomeapparent in a phosphorescent light about the grave, holding oneanother's back-hair and dancing in a circle.)HOODOO SONG AND DANCE:O we're the larrikin hoodoos!The chirruping, lirruping hoodoos!We mix things up that the Fates ordain,Bring back the past and the present detain,Postpone the future and sometimes tetherThe three and drive them abreast together—We rollicking, frolicking hoodoos!To us all things are the same as noneAnd nothing is that is under the sun.Seven's a dozen and never is then,Whether is what and what is when,A man is a tree and a cuckoo a cowFor gold galore and silver enowTo magical, mystical hoodoos!SARALTHIA:What monstrous shadow darkens all the place,(Enter Smyler.)Flung like a doom athwart—ha!—thou?Portentous presence, art thou not the sameThat stalks with aspect horrible amongSmall youths and maidens, baring snaggy teeth,Champing their tender limbs till crimson spume,Flung from, thy lips in cursing God and man,Incarnadines the land?SMYLER:Thou dammid slut!(Exit Smyler.)NELLIBRAC:O what a pretty man!SARALTHIANow who is next?Of tramps and casuals this graveyard seemsProlific to a fault!(Enter Needleson, exhaling, prophetically, an odor of decayedeggs and, actually, one of unlaundried linen. He darts anintense regard at an adjacent marble angel and places his openhand behind his ear.)NEEDLESON:Hay?(Exit Needleson.)NELLIBRAC:Sweet, sweet male!I yearn to play at Copenhagen with him!(Blushes diligently and energetically.)CHORUS OF SKULLS:Hoodoos, hoodoos, disappear—Some dread deity draws near!(Exeunt Hoodos.)Smitten with a sense of doom,The dead are cowering in the tomb,Seas are calling, stars are fallingAnd appalling is the gloom!Fragmentary flames are flungThrough the air the trees among!Lo! each hill inclines its head—Earth is bending 'neath his thread!(On the contrary, enter Villiam on a chip, navigating anodor of mignonette. Saralthia springs forward to put him inher pocket, but he is instantly retracted by an invisible string.She falls headlong, breaking her heart. Reknter Villiam,Needleson, Smyler. All gather about Saralthia, who loudlylaments her accident. The Spirit of Tar-and Feathers, risinglike a black smoke in their midst, executes a monstrous wink ofgraphic and vivid significance, then contemplates them with anobviously baptismal intention. The cross on Lone Mountaintakes fire, splendoring the Peninsula. Tableau. Curtain.)
DRAMATIS PERSONF.VILLIAMa SenNEEDLESONa SidniducSMILERa ScheisterKI-YIa TraderGRIMGHASTa SpaderSARALTHIAa Love-lorn NymphNELLIBRACa SweetunA BODY; A GHOST; AN UNMENTIONABLE THING; SKULLS;HOODOOS; ETC.Scene—a Cemetery in San Francisco.Saralthia, Nellibrac, Grimghast.
SARALTHIA:The red half-moon is dipping to the west,And the cold fog invades the sleeping land.Lo! how the grinning skulls in the level lightLitter the place! Methinks that every skullIs a most lifelike portrait of my Sen,Drawn by the hand of Death; each fleshless pate,Cursed with a ghastly grin to eyes unrubbedWith love's magnetic ointment, seems to mineTo smile an amiable smile like hisWhose amiable smile I—I aloneAm able to distinguish from his leer!See how the gathering coyotes flitThrough the lit spaces, or with burning eyesStar the black shadows with a steadfast gaze!About my feet the poddy toads at play,Bulbously comfortable, try to hop,And tumble clumsily with all their warts;While pranking lizards, sliding up and downMy limbs, as they were public roads, impartA singularly interesting chill.The circumstance and passion of the time,The cast and manner of the place—the spiritOf this confederate environment,Command the rights we come to celebrateObedient to the Inspired Hag—The seventh daughter of the seventh daughter,Who rules all destinies from Minna street,A dollar a destiny. Here at this grave,Which for my purposes thou, Jack of Spades—(To Grimghast)Corrupter than the thing that reeks below—Hast opened secretly, we'll work the charm.Now what's the hour?(Distant clock strikes thirteen.)Enough—hale forth the stiff!(Grimghast by means of a boat-hook stands the coffin on endin the excavation; the lid crumbles, exposing the remains of aman.)Ha! Master Mouldybones, how fare you, sir?THE BODY:Poorly, I thank your ladyship; I missSome certain fingers and an ear or two.There's something, too, gone wrong with my inside,And my periphery's not what it was.How can we serve each other, you and I?NELLIBRAC:O what a personable man!(Blushes bashfully, drops her eyes and twists the corner ofher apron.)SARALTHIA:Yes, dear,A very proper and alluring male,And quite superior to Lubin Rroyd,Who has, however, this distinct advantage—He is alive.GRIMGHAST:Missus, these yer remainsWas the boss singer back in '72,And used to allers git invites to goDown to Swellmont and sing at every feed.In t'other Villiam's time, that was, aforeThe gent that you've hooked onto bought the place.THE BODY(singing):Down among the sainted deadMany years I lay;Beetles occupied my head,Moles explored my clay.There we feasted day and night—I and bug and beast;They provided appetiteAnd I supplied the feast.The raven is a dicky-bird,SARALTHIA(singing):The jackal is a daisy,NELLIBRAC(singing):The wall-mouse is a worthy third,A SPOOK(singing):But mortals all are crazy.CHORUS OF SKULLS:O mortals all are crazy,Their intellects are hazy;In the growing moon they shake their shoonAnd trip it in the mazy.But when the moon is waning,Their senses they're regaining:They fall to prayer and from their hairRemove the straws remaining.SARALTHIA:That's right, Rogues Gallery, pray keep it up:Your song recalls my Villiam's "Auld Lang Syne,"What time he came and (like an amorous birdThat struts before the female of its kind,Warbling to cave her down the bank) piped highHis cracked falsetto out of reach. Enough—Now let's to business. Nellibrac, sweet child,St. Cloacina's future devotee,The time is ripe and rotten—gut the grip!(Nellibrac brings forward a valise and takes from it fivearticles of clothing, which, one by one, she lays upon the pointsof a magic pentagram that has thoughtfully inscribed itself inlines of light on the wet grass. The Body holds its late lamentednose.)NELLIBRAC(singing):Fragrant socks, by Villiam's toesConsecrated to the nose;Shirt that shows the well worn trackOf the knuckles of his back,Handkerchief with mottled stains,Into which he blew his brains;Collar crying out for soap—Prophet of the future rope;An unmentionable thingIt would sicken me to sing.UNMENTIONABLE THING(aside):What!Iunmentionable? Just you wait!In all the family journals of the StateYou'll sometime see that I'm described at length,With supereditorial grace and strength.SARALTHIA(singing):Throw them in the open tombThey will cause his love to bloomWith an amatory boom!CHORUS OF INVISIBLE HOODOOS:Hoodoo, hoodoo, voudou-vetVilliam struggles in the net!By the power and intentOf the charm his strength is spent!By the virtue in each ragBlessed by the Inspired HagHe will be a willing victimLimp as if a donkey kicked him!By this awful incantationWe decree his animation—By the magic of our artWarm the cockles of his heart,Villiam, if alive or dead,Thou Saralthia shalt wed!(They cast the garments into the grave and push over thecoffin. Grimghast fills up the hole. Hoodoos gradually becomeapparent in a phosphorescent light about the grave, holding oneanother's back-hair and dancing in a circle.)HOODOO SONG AND DANCE:O we're the larrikin hoodoos!The chirruping, lirruping hoodoos!We mix things up that the Fates ordain,Bring back the past and the present detain,Postpone the future and sometimes tetherThe three and drive them abreast together—We rollicking, frolicking hoodoos!To us all things are the same as noneAnd nothing is that is under the sun.Seven's a dozen and never is then,Whether is what and what is when,A man is a tree and a cuckoo a cowFor gold galore and silver enowTo magical, mystical hoodoos!SARALTHIA:What monstrous shadow darkens all the place,(Enter Smyler.)Flung like a doom athwart—ha!—thou?Portentous presence, art thou not the sameThat stalks with aspect horrible amongSmall youths and maidens, baring snaggy teeth,Champing their tender limbs till crimson spume,Flung from, thy lips in cursing God and man,Incarnadines the land?SMYLER:Thou dammid slut!(Exit Smyler.)NELLIBRAC:O what a pretty man!SARALTHIANow who is next?Of tramps and casuals this graveyard seemsProlific to a fault!(Enter Needleson, exhaling, prophetically, an odor of decayedeggs and, actually, one of unlaundried linen. He darts anintense regard at an adjacent marble angel and places his openhand behind his ear.)NEEDLESON:Hay?(Exit Needleson.)NELLIBRAC:Sweet, sweet male!I yearn to play at Copenhagen with him!(Blushes diligently and energetically.)CHORUS OF SKULLS:Hoodoos, hoodoos, disappear—Some dread deity draws near!(Exeunt Hoodos.)Smitten with a sense of doom,The dead are cowering in the tomb,Seas are calling, stars are fallingAnd appalling is the gloom!Fragmentary flames are flungThrough the air the trees among!Lo! each hill inclines its head—Earth is bending 'neath his thread!(On the contrary, enter Villiam on a chip, navigating anodor of mignonette. Saralthia springs forward to put him inher pocket, but he is instantly retracted by an invisible string.She falls headlong, breaking her heart. Reknter Villiam,Needleson, Smyler. All gather about Saralthia, who loudlylaments her accident. The Spirit of Tar-and Feathers, risinglike a black smoke in their midst, executes a monstrous wink ofgraphic and vivid significance, then contemplates them with anobviously baptismal intention. The cross on Lone Mountaintakes fire, splendoring the Peninsula. Tableau. Curtain.)