DOROTHY. Three: and does he understand
That wicked frocks don't mean a wicked life?
Four----
DOROTHEA. But, of course, there's no one perfect!
DOROTHY. Four:
Wouldn't he read the golf news to his wife?
Five: Can he tell--the next day--what you wore?
Six: If he knows an author, will he wait
To get a copy free or buy the book?
Seven: Is he fond of curate stories? Eight:
If, when you're dressed, you wonder how you look
And ask him, as you're driving to the dance,
Doesn't he, after everything you've done,
Say 'Oh, all right'--without a single glance?
Nine: If you flirt a little, for the fun
Of being a woman, would he think you light?
Ten: Does he say, when dining in Soho,
'I don't think we shall need champagne to-night--
But if you really want it, let me know?'
Eleven----
DOROTHEA. Oh please! I don't--in fact, I can't--
Dispute the list. I'll openly admit
That James is not the man I used to want....
DOROTHY. Splendid! Now, where's his wire? We'll answer it
With one majestic 'No.'
DOROTHEA (_stopping her_). Not yet. Be kind!
Think what I lose in losing James, and then
You'll change your mind--your portion of our mind.
I want a man to kiss----
DOROTHY. But why not ten?
DOROTHEA. My dear! I want the life of modern man.
I want to quote the works of Douglas Cole,
Think all men base except the artisan,
And smile at God, religion, and the soul.
I want to find new genius everywhere.
I want to sit in drawing-rooms and say
'Rossetti, Watts? Of course, they can't compare
With Roger, or the smallest Fry, to-day.'
So, won't you be an angel? Share the flat
In honourable retirement! Don't you see
You should?
DOROTHY. Subconscious! Well, I may be that--
But no great eras come apart from me.
What though to-day I have less power than you?
The wheel will turn; and shall I not be there
To run with roses down Fifth Avenue
And make a Roman revel in Mayfair?
No! I maintain my right to have a say
In this, our marriage; therefore comprehend
Once and for all that I shall not give way!
DOROTHEA. I've done my best to treat you as a friend.
You're just a little selfish pig! In fact,
I don't know why you ever left your screen!
DOROTHY. I didn't come to argue but to act,
And now I will!
DOROTHEA. Whatever do you mean?
DOROTHY. I came to kill you.
DOROTHEA. What?
DOROTHY. You see this knife?
The ghost of Caesar Borgia gave me this,
And with it some advice on taking life.
He only wished, he said, the chance were his!
DOROTHEA. But don't you know? One's not allowed to kill.
DOROTHY. Pooh! A mere whimsy of the Conscious Mind.
Prepare!
DOROTHEA. But listen!
DOROTHY. No!
DOROTHEA. You can't!
DOROTHY. I will!
Pray to the gods whom Freud has left behind!
(DOROTHY _lunges with the knife at_ DOROTHEA, _who escapes by darting
to the left of the table. She raises her right hand high._)
DOROTHEA. Stop! I pronounce on you this dreadful spell!
Abracadabra: complex: transference:
Theriomorphia--now it's working well--
Father-imago: schizophrenia----
DOROTHY. Hence!
Spare me!
DOROTHEA. Appendage-function: surrogate:
Enantiodromia--doesn't that one hurt?--
Libido: endopsychic----
DOROTHY. Wait, oh wait!
DOROTHEA. Persona: hypermnesia: extrovert!
Yield, in the holy names of Jung and Freud!
DOROTHY. I yield! I beg for nothing but fair play.
DOROTHEA. How?
DOROTHY. By a simple plan that would avoid
All further wrangling.
DOROTHEA. Well, what is it?
DOROTHY. Say
That you write half the telegram, and I
The other half! That would be just.
DOROTHEA. Absurd!
The first to write could give the whole reply.
DOROTHY. A woman, and you don't want the last word?...
Toss!
DOROTHEA (_producing a coin_). If you lose, you're not to call
me names.
DOROTHY. Heads!
DOROTHEA. You _have_ lost. Who is the better now?...
'Would you accept me for your husband.--James'--
So runs the question, and the answer----
DOROTHY (_anxiously_). How?
DOROTHEA. Read it!