The Foundations (An Extravagant Play)Galsworthy, John
General
The Foundations (An Extravagant Play)
Galsworthy, John
English drama
MRS. L. 'Ow'm I lukin', Bob?
LEMMY. First-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast by. We'll
show 'em yer've got a kick in yer. [He takes her arm] Little Aida,
ketch 'old o' the sensytions.
[He indicates the trousers THE PRESS takes MRS. LEMMY'S other
arm.]
MRS. L. [With an excited little laugh] Quite like a gell!
And, smiling between her son and THE PRESS, she passes out; LITTLE
AIDA, with a fling of her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows.
CURTAIN
ACT III
An octagon ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S.
A shining room lighted by gold candelabra, with gold-curtained
pillars, through which the shining hall and a little of the
grand stairway are visible. A small table with a gold-coloured
cloth occupies the very centre of the room, which has a polished
parquet floor and high white walls. Gold-coloured doors on the
left. Opposite these doors a window with gold-coloured curtains
looks out on Park Lane. LADY WILLIAM standing restlessly
between the double doors and the arch which leads to the hall.
JAMES is stationary by the double doors, from behind which come
sounds of speech and applause.
POULDER. [Entering from the hall] His Grace the Duke of Exeter, my
lady.
[His GRACE enters. He is old, and youthful, with a high colour
and a short rough white beard. LADY WILLIAM advances to meet
him. POULDER stands by.]
LADY W. Oh! Father, you ARE late.
HIS G. Awful crowd in the streets, Nell. They've got a coffin--
couldn't get by.
LADY W. Coin? Whose?
HIS G. The Government's I should think-no flowers, by request. I
say, have I got to speak?
LADY W. Oh! no, dear.
HIS G. H'm! That's unlucky. I've got it here. [He looks down his
cuff] Found something I said in 1914--just have done.
LADY W. Oh! If you've got it--James, ask Lord William to come to me
for a moment. [JAMES vanishes through the door. To THE DUKE] Go in,
Grand-dad; they'll be so awfully pleased to see you. I'll tell Bill.
HIS G. Where's Anne?
LADY W. In bed, of course.
HIS G. I got her this--rather nice?
[He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those street toy-men
that jump head over heels on your hand; he puts it through its
paces.]
LADY W. [Much interested] Oh! no, but how sweet! She'll simply
love it.
POULDER. If I might suggest to Your Grace to take it in and operate
it. It's sweated, Your Grace. They-er-make them in those places.
HIS G. By Jove! D'you know the price, Poulder?
POULDER. [Interrogatively] A penny, is it? Something paltry, Your
Grace!
HIS G. Where's that woman who knows everything; Miss Munday?
LADY W. Oh! She'll be in there, somewhere.
[His GRACE moves on, and passes through the doors. The sound of
applause is heard.]
POULDER. [Discreetly] would you care to see the bomb, my lady?
LADY W. Of course--first quiet moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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