CREEPERS AND CRAWLERS
SCENE: _A sandy hillock—Various holes, &c._
BEETLES _are quarrelling over a_ CHRYSALIS, _which is
seized first by one then the other_.
_Chrysalis._ The whole world is bursting into blossom. I am being born.
_Tramp._ (_Raising his head—he is lying half asleep_) How much?
_Chrysalis._ The Great Adventure begins.
_Tramp._ Right oh! (_Settles down again._)
[_Pause._
_Mr. Beetle._ (_Behind the scenes_) What yer getting at?
_Mrs. Beetle._ (_Behind the scenes_) Me?
_Mr. Beetle._ Yes, you—you lump of rubbish.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Silly swine.
_Mr. Beetle._ Fathead.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Fathead yourself—mind where you’re going.
_They enter, rolling a huge ball of dirt._
_Mr. Beetle._ It’s all right, isn’t it?
_Mrs. Beetle._ I’m all of a tremble.
_Mr. Beetle._ Our capital—that’s what it is—our lovely
capital—careful—careful.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Can’t be too careful with our capital—our little pile.
_Mr. Beetle._ How we’ve saved and scraped and toiled and moiled to come
by it.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Night and morning, toiled and moiled and saved and
scraped.
_Mr. Beetle._ And we’ve seen it grow and grow, haven’t we, bit by
bit—our little ball of blessedness.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Our very own it is.
_Mr. Beetle._ Our very own.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Our life’s work.
_Mr. Beetle._ Smell it, old woman—pinch it—feel the weight of it.
Ours—ours.
_Mrs. Beetle._ A godsend.
_Mr. Beetle._ A blessing—straight from Heaven—capital—capital.
_Chrysalis._ Eternal night is breaking:
The universe is waking:
One minute, just one minute
And I—_I_—shall be in it.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Husband.
_Mr. Beetle._ What is it, old woman?
_Mrs. Beetle._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Mr. Beetle._ Ha, ha, ha! Wife!
_Mrs. Beetle._ What is it, old man?
_Mr. Beetle._ Ha, ha! It’s fine to own something—property—the dream
of your life, the fruit of your labours.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Mr. Beetle._ I’m off my head with joy—I’m going balmy.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Why?
_Mr. Beetle._ With worry. Now we’ve got our little pile that we’ve so
looked forward to, we’ve got to work and work and work to make another
one.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Why another one?
_Mr. Beetle._ Silly—so that we can have two, of course.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Two? Quite right—quite right—two.
_Mr. Beetle._ Just fancy—two—at least two, say three. Every one who’s
made his pile has to make another.
_Mrs. Beetle._ So that he can have two?
_Mr. Beetle._ Yes, or three.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Husband.
_Mr. Beetle._ Well, what is it?
_Mrs. Beetle._ I’m scared—S’posin’ some one was to steal it from us.
_Mr. Beetle._ What?
_Mrs. Beetle._ Our capital—our little pile—our all in all.
_Mr. Beetle._ Our pi-ile—My gawd—don’t frighten me.
_Mrs. Beetle._ We oughtn’t to roll it about with us till we’ve made
another one, dearie, did we?
_Mr. Beetle._ I’ll tell you what—we’ll invest it—In—vest it—store
it up—bury it. That’s what we’ll do—nice and deep—nice and deep.
_Mrs. Beetle._ I hope nobody finds it.
_Mr. Beetle._ Eh, what’s that? Finds it—No, of course they won’t. Our
little bit of capital.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Our nest-egg—Oh, bless me—I hope no one does—our
little all.
_Mr. Beetle._ Wait—stay here and watch it—Watch it careful—don’t let
your eyes off it, not for a minute—Capital—Capital.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Where yer off to?
_Mr. Beetle._ To look for a hole—a little hole—a deep hole—deep and
narrer to bury it in—out of harm’s way—Careful—Careful.
[_Exit._
_Mrs. Beetle._ Husband—husband, come back—wait a bit—I’ve found
one—such a nice hole—Husband! He’s gone! If I could only look into
it—No, I mustn’t leave yer. But only a peep—Here, stay here good and
quiet, darling. Hubby’ll be back soon—in half a jiff, half a jiff—So
long, keep good—half a ji—
_Enters the lair of the_ ICHNEUMON FLY.
_Chrysalis._ Oh, to be born—to be born—into the great new world.
_Enter a_ STRANGE BEETLE.
_Strange Beetle._ They’ve gone—now’s my chance. (_Rolls pile away._)
_Tramp._ ’Ere, mind where yer going to.
_Strange Beetle._ Mind yer feet.
_Tramp._ What’s that yer rolling?
_Strange Beetle._ Ha, ha! That’s my capital—my little pile, my all.
_Tramp._ Bit niffy, ain’t it?
_Strange Beetle._ Eh?
_Tramp._ It smells.
_Strange Beetle._ Capital don’t smell—Off you go, my precious—This
way, my little all, my nest-egg, my capital.
[_Exit._
_Mrs. Beetle._ Oh dear, oh dear. That’s somebody’s house, that is—We
can’t put you there, my jewel. Oh, where’s it gone to? Where’s it gone
to? My little pile—where’s it gone to?
_Tramp._ Why, not ’arf a minute—
_Mrs. Beetle._ (_Rushing at him_) Thief—thief—What ’ave you done with
my pile?
_Tramp._ I’m telling yer.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Here, give it back—yer wretch.
_Tramp._ Just this minute a gentleman rolled it away over there.
_Mrs. Beetle._ What gentleman? Who?
_Tramp._ A pot-bellied fellow, a fat, round chap.
_Mrs. Beetle._ My husband?
_Tramp._ A feller with an ugly mug and crooked feet.
_Mrs. Beetle._ That’s my husband.
_Tramp._ His capital he said it was.
_Mrs. Beetle._ That’s him—he must have found a hole—Husband—My
precious—Darling! Where is the blasted fool?
_Tramp._ That’s where he rolled it to.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Coo-eh! Couldn’t he have called me? Husband, my
precious! I’ll learn yer—Our capital—our all—our little pile.
[_Exit._
_Tramp._ Them butterflies was gay
And foolish, yer might say:
But these ’ere beetles—lumme,
They _do_ work, anyway!
So, ’ere’s to wish ’em luck—
Though gatherin’ balls of muck
Is jest about as rummy
As anythink I’ve struck.
_Chrysalis._ O universe, prepare! O space, expand! The mightiest of all
happenings is at hand.
_Tramp._ What’s that?
_Chrysalis._ I’m being born.
_Tramp._ That’s good—And what are you going to be?
_Chrysalis._ I don’t know—I don’t know—Something great.
_Tramp._ Ah ha!
_Chrysalis._ I’ll do something extraordinary—I’m being born.
_Tramp._ What _you_ want’s life, my son.
_Chrysalis._ When half a minute’s gone,
Something immense, unbounded,
Will happen here.
_Tramp._ Go on!
_Chrysalis._ I shall do something great!
_Tramp._ What?
_Chrysalis._ When I change my state,
The world will be astounded!
_Tramp._ Well—’urry up. I’ll wait.
[_Enter_ ICHNEUMON FLY, _dragging the corpse
of a_ CRICKET _to its lair_.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Look, larva, daddy’s bringing you something nice.
_Enters his lair._
_Chrysalis._ (_Shouting_)
The torment of my birth
Is tearing the whole earth.
She groans to set me free——
_Tramp._ Then get a move on. See?
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Returning_) No, no, daughter, you must eat. You
mustn’t come out—it wouldn’t do at all. Daddy’ll soon be back and
he’ll bring you something nice. What would you like, piggywiggy?
_Enter_ LARVA.
_Larva._ Daddy, I’m bored here.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Ha, ha! That’s a nice thing to say. Give daddy a
kiss—Daddy’ll bring you something tasty. Would you like a follow of
cricket? Ha, ha—not a bad idea.
_Larva._ I’d like—I don’t know what I’d like.
_Ichneumon Fly._ She doesn’t know what she’d like, bless her little
heart. I’ll find something you’ll like—Ta-ta! Daddy must go to work
now—Daddy must go a hunting and fetch something for his popsy-wopsy.
Ta-ta! Go back now, poppet, and wait for your din-din. Ta-ta!
[_Exit_ LARVA.
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_To Tramp_) Who are you?
_Tramp._ I?
_Ichneumon Fly._ Are you edible?
_Tramp._ Yes, I don’t think.
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Sniffing_) No—not fresh enough—Who are you?
_Tramp._ Oh, any sort of skunk, I am.
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Bowing_) Pleased to meet you. Any family?
_Tramp._ Not as I am aware of.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Did you see her?
_Tramp._ ’Er? Who?
_Ichneumon Fly._ My Larva. Charming, eh? Smart child—And how she
grows, and what a twist she’s got. Children are a great joy, aren’t
they?
_Tramp._ I’ve ’eard ’em well spoken of.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Well, of course they are, you take it from me—One who
knows. When you have them, at least you know what you’re working for.
That’s life, that is. Children want to grow, to eat, to laugh, to
dance, to play, don’t they? Am I right?
_Tramp._ Children want a lot.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Would you believe it, I take her two or three crickets
every day. Do you think she eats them all up? No—Only the titbits—A
splendid child, eh?
_Tramp._ I should say so.
_Ichneumon Fly._ I’m proud of her—real proud. Takes after me—just
like her daddy, eh? Ha, ha! And here I stand gossiping, when I ought to
be at work. Oh, the fuss and the running about—Up early, home late,
but as long as you’re doing it for some one worth doing it for, what
does it matter? Am I right?
_Tramp._ I suppose you are.
_Ichneumon Fly._ A pity you aren’t edible, isn’t it? It is, really. I
must take her something, you know, mustn’t I? You see that yourself,
don’t you? (_Fingering_ CHRYSALIS.)
_Chrysalis._ I proclaim the re-birth of the world.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Ah! You aren’t ripe yet—Pity.
_Chrysalis._ I shall inspire—I shall create.
_Ichneumon Fly._ It’s a great responsibility to bring up children—A
great worry, isn’t it? Feeding the poor little mites, paying for their
education and putting them out into the world. That’s no trifle, I
can tell you. Well, I must be off now—Au revoir—Pleased to have met
you—Ta-ta, my chicken—Be good!
[_Exit._
_Tramp._ This ’as me fairly beat. That fly destroys
The cricket jest to feed ’is girls and boys;
But that pore ’armless cricket found life sweet,
Same as ’e does.—No! Nature ’as me beat!
_Larva._ (_Crawling out of hole_) Daddy! Daddy!
_Tramp._ So you’re the Larva. Let’s have a look at you.
_Larva._ How ugly you are!
_Tramp._ Am I? Why?
_Larva._ I don’t know—Oh, how bored I am! I want—I want——
_Tramp._ What yer want?
_Lama._ I don’t know. Yes I do—To tear up something—Something
alive—that wriggles.
_Tramp._ ’Ere, what’s come over yer?
_Larva._ Ugly—ugly—ugly! (_Crawls away._)
_Tramp._ Where’s Mr. Manners?—Blowed if I’d feed a daughter
Like ’er. Perliteness—that’s what _I’d_ ’ave taught ’er.
_Enter_ MR. BEETLE.
_Mr. Beetle._ (_Calling_) Come along, old girl. I’ve found a hole.
Where are you? Where’s my pile? Where’s my wife?
_Tramp._ Your wife? Do you mean that old harridan? That greasy fat
bundle of rags?
_Mr. Beetle._ That’s her—Where’s my pile?
_Tramp._ That old tub in petticoats?
_Mr. Beetle._ That’s her—that’s her—She had my pile—What’s she done
with my pile?
_Tramp._ Why, your beauty went to look for you.
_Mr. Beetle._ Did she? Where’s my pile?
_Tramp._ That great ball of muck?
_Mr. Beetle._ Yes, yes. My nest-egg—my savings—my capital. Where’s my
beautiful pile? I left my wife with it.
_Tramp._ Some gentleman rolled it away over there. Your wife wasn’t
here at the time.
_Mr. Beetle._ Where was she? Where is she?
_Tramp._ She went after him. She thought it was you. She kept shoutin’
for yer.
_Mr. Beetle._ I’m not asking about her. Where’s my pile, I say?
_Tramp._ Gentleman rolled it away.
_Mr. Beetle._ Rolled it away? My pile? Gawd in ’eaven! Catch him. Catch
him. Thief! Murder! All my little lot. All I’ve saved. They’ve killed
me, they’ve done me in. Who cares about my wife? It’s my pile they’ve
taken. Help—stop thief! Murder!
_Tramp._ Ha, ha, ha!
Crikee! ’E don’t want pleasure
But jest to pile up treasure;
And when the old sly copper—
Death—come and nabs ’im proper,
’E’ll still be like a nigger
Sweatin’ to make it bigger,
Still ’eavin’ and still puffin’ ...
And what’s he gained? Why, nuffin’!
_Mr. Cricket._ (_Off stage_) Look out, darling—take care you don’t
stumble. Here we are—here we are. Oopsidaisy! This is where we
live—this is our new little home. Careful—You haven’t hurt yourself,
have you?
_Enter_ MR. _and_ MRS. CRICKET.
_Mrs. Cricket._ No, Cricket, don’t be absurd.
_Mr. Cricket._ But darling, you must be careful—When you’re
expecting—And now open the peephole—look—How do you like it?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh, darling, how tired I am!
_Mr. Cricket._ Sit down, darling, sit down. My popsy must take great
care of herself.
_Mrs. Cricket._ What a long way—And all the move! Oh, men never know
half the trouble moving is.
_Mr. Cricket._ Oh darling, come, come—Look, darling, look.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Now don’t get cross, you horrid man.
_Mr. Cricket._ I won’t say another word, really I won’t. Fancy, Mrs.
Cricket won’t take care of herself, and in her state too—What do you
think of her?
_Mrs. Cricket._ You naughty man—how can you joke about it?
_Mr. Cricket._ But darling, I’m so happy. Just fancy, all the little
crickets, the noise, the chirping—(_Imitates the noise and laughs._)
_Mrs. Cricket._ You—you silly boy—wants to be a great big Daddy, eh?
_Mr. Cricket._ And don’t you want to be a Mummy too?—my Popsy?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Yes’m does! Is this our new home?
_Mr. Cricket._ Our little nest. Commodious little villa residence.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Will it be dry? Who built it?
_Mr. Cricket._ Why, goodness me, another Cricket lived here years ago.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Fancy, and has he moved?
_Mr. Cricket._ Ha, ha—Yes, he’s moved. Don’t you know where to? Guess.
_Mrs. Cricket._ I don’t know—What a long time you take saying
anything—Do tell me, Cricket, quickly.
_Mr. Cricket._ Well, yesterday a bird got him—Snap, snip, snap. So
we’re moving into his house. By Jove, what a slice of luck!
_Mrs. Cricket._ Gobbled him up alive? How horrible!
_Mr. Cricket._ Eh? A godsend for us. I did laugh. Tralala, &c. We’ll
put up a plate. (_Puts up plate with ‘Mr. Cricket, musician’_) Where
shall we put it? More to the right? Higher?
_Mrs. Cricket._ And you saw him eaten?
_Mr. Cricket._ I’m telling you—like that—snap, snip!
_Mrs. Cricket._ Horrible! Cricket, I have such a queer feeling.
_Mr. Cricket._ Good heavens—Perhaps it’s—no, it couldn’t be, not yet!
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh dear, I’m so frightened.
_Mr. Cricket._ Nothing to be frightened of, dear—Every lady——
_Mrs. Cricket._ It’s all very well for you to talk—Cricket, will you
always love me?
_Mr. Cricket._ Of course, darling—Dear me, don’t cry—come, love.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Show me how he swallowed him—Snip, snap.
_Mr. Cricket._ Snip, snap.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh, how funny! (_Has hysterics._)
_Mr. Cricket._ Well, well. There’s nothing to cry about. (_Sits beside
her_) We’ll furnish this place beautifully. And as soon as we can run
to it, we’ll put up some——
_Mrs. Cricket._ Curtains?
_Mr. Cricket._ Curtains, of course! How clever of you to think of it.
Give me a kiss.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Never mind that now—Don’t be silly.
_Mr. Cricket._ Of course I’m silly. Guess what I’ve brought?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Curtains!
_Mr. Cricket._ No, something smaller—Where did I——?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Quick, quick, let me see.
[MR. CRICKET _takes out a rattle_.
Oh, how sweet, Cricket! Give it to me.
_Mr. Cricket._ (_Sings_)
When Dr. Stork had brought their child,
Their teeny-weeny laddy,
All day about the cradle smiled
His mumsy and his daddy:
And ‘Cricket, cricket, cricket,
You pretty little thing’—
Is now the song that all day long
They sing, sing, sing.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Lend it me, darling—Oh, daddy—I’m so pleased. Rattle
it.
_Mr. Cricket._ Darling.
_Mrs. Cricket._ (_Singing_) Cricket, cricket, cricket!
_Mr. Cricket._ Now I must run round a little,—let people know I am
here.
_Mrs. Cricket._ (_Singing_)
And ‘Cricket, cricket, cricket,
You pretty little thing ...’
_Mr. Cricket._ I must get some introductions, fix up orders, have a
look round. Give me the rattle, I’ll use it on my way.
_Mrs. Cricket._ And what about me? I want it.
_Mr. Cricket._ Very well, darling.
_Mrs. Cricket._ You won’t leave me long——
_Mr. Cricket._ Rattle for me if you want me. And I expect a neighbour
will be coming along. Have a chat with him, about the children, and all
that, you know.
_Mrs. Cricket._ You bad boy.
_Mr. Cricket._ Now darling, be careful. Won’t be long, my pet.
[_Runs off._
_Mrs. Cricket._ (_Rattles_) Hush-a-bye—cricket—on the tree top!
Cricket! I feel frightened.
_Tramp._ Don’t you be frightened, mum. You’ll ’ave an easier time than
most ladies, by the look of yer.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Who’s there, a beetle?—You don’t bite?
_Tramp._ No.
_Mrs. Cricket._ And how are the children?
_Tramp._ Ah,—now you’re askin’! Rum, ’ow
Yer question ’urts me, some’ow;
For, beg your pardon, Madam—
Fact is, I’ve never ’ad ’em.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh, dear, haven’t you any children? That’s a pity.
(_Shakes rattle_) Cricket! Cricket! And why did you never marry, beetle?
_Tramp._ Well, some’s too selfish, maybe,
To want a wife and baby ...
Oh, ’strewth, what do I care now?—
She wouldn’t ’ave me! There now.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Yes! Yes! You men _are_ troublesome. (_Rattles_)
Cricket! Cricket! Cricket!
_Chrysalis._ In me, in me, in me,
The future strives to be!
_Tramp._ Oh, buck up!
_Chrysalis._ I will accomplish such deeds.
_Enter_ MRS. BEETLE.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Isn’t my husband here? Oh, the stupid man. Where is our
pile?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Your pile? Can we play with it? Do let me see it.
_Mrs. Beetle._ It’s nothing to play with, it’s our future, our
nest-egg, our capital. My husband, the clumsy creature, has gone off
with it.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh dear, I hope he hasn’t run away from you.
_Mrs. Beetle._ And where is yours?
_Mrs. Cricket._ He’s away on business. Cricket! Cricket!
_Mrs. Beetle._ Fancy him leaving you all alone like that, poor thing,
and you—(_Whispers_)—aren’t you?
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh dear!
_Mrs. Beetle._ So young, too. And aren’t you making a pile?
_Mrs. Cricket._ What for?
_Mrs. Beetle._ A pile—for you and him and your family. That’s for your
future—for your whole life.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh no, all I want is to have my own little home, my
nest, a little house of my very own. And curtains, and children, and my
Cricket. That’s all.
_Mrs. Beetle._ How can you live without a pile?
_Mrs. Cricket._ What should I do with it?
_Mrs. Beetle._ Roll it about with you everywhere. There’s nothing like
a pile for holding a man.
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh no, a little house.
_Mrs. Beetle._ A pile, I tell you.
_Mrs. Cricket._ A little house.
_Mrs. Beetle._ Pretty little innocence! I’d like to stay with you, but
I must be going.
_Mrs. Cricket._ And I wanted to hear all about your children.
_Mrs. Beetle._ I don’t want to bother over no children. My pile, that’s
all I want, my pile!
[_Exit._
_Mrs. Cricket._ Oh, what an old frump! I don’t wonder her husband’s
run away from her. (_Sings a snatch of the song_) I’ve such a queer
feeling. Snip! Snap! That’s what he did to him—Snip!
ICHNEUMON FLY _enters_.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Ha, ha! (_He murders_ MRS. CRICKET _and drags
her to his lair_.)
_Tramp._ Oh, murder!
_Ichneumon Fly._ Daughter, daughter! Chicken! (_Singing_) ‘Open your
mouth and shut your eyes and see what some one’ll send you.’
_Tramp._ ’E’s killed ’er, and I stood like a bloomin’ log! Didn’t utter
a sound she didn’t and nobody ran to ’elp her!
_Enter_ PARASITE.
_Parasite._ Bravo! Comrade, just what I was thinking.
_Tramp._ To die—like that—so young, so ’elpless.
_Parasite._ Just what I was thinking. I was looking on all the time. I
wouldn’t do a thing like that, you know. I wouldn’t really. Every one
wants to live, don’t they?
_Tramp._ Who are you?
_Parasite._ I, oh nothing much, I’m a poor man, an orphan. They call me
a parasite.
_Tramp._ How can any one dare to kill like that!
_Parasite._ That’s just what I say. Do you think he needs it? Do you
think he’s hungry like me? Not a bit of it. He kills to add to his
larder, what’s three-quarters full already. He collects things he does,
hangs ’em up to dry, smokes ’em, pickles ’em. It’s a scandal, that’s
what it is, a scandal. One’s got a store while another’s starving. Why
should he have a dagger, and me only my bare fists to fight with, and
all over chilblains too—aren’t I right?
_Tramp._ I should say so.
_Parasite._ There’s no equality, that’s what I say. One law for the
rich—another for the poor! And if I was to kill anything, I couldn’t
eat it—not satisfactorily, I can’t chew properly, my jaw’s too weak.
Is that right?
_Tramp._ I don’t ’old with killin’, no’ow.
_Parasite._ My very words, Comrade, or at least, hoarding shouldn’t
be allowed. Eat your fill and ’ave done with it. Down with larders!
Storing things is robbin’ those who haven’t nowhere to store. Eat your
fill and have done with it and then there’d be enough for all, wouldn’t
there?
_Tramp._ _I_ dunno——
_Parasite._ Well, I’m tellin’ yer, aren’t I? Down with——
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Re-entering_) Eat it up, baby, eat it up. Choose
what you like. Have you got a nice daddy? Eh?
_Parasite._ Good afternoon, my lord.
_Ichneumon Fly._ How d’ye do? Edible? (_Sniffing._)
_Parasite._ Oh no, you’re joking, guv’nor, why me?
_Ichneumon Fly._ Get out, you filthy creature. What d’ye want here,
clear off.
_Parasite._ I’m movin’, your worship; no offence, captain. (_Cowers._)
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_To_ TRAMP) Well, did you see that neat
piece of work, eh? It’s not every one who could do that. Ah, my
boy, that’s what you want—brains, expert knowledge, enterprise,
imagination, initiative—and love of work, let me tell you.
_Parasite._ That’s what I say.
_Ichneumon Fly._ My good man, if you want to keep alive, you’ve got to
fight your way. There’s your future, there’s your family. And then you
know there must be a certain amount of ambition. A strong personality
is bound to assert itself.
_Parasite._ That’s what I say, sir.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Of course, of course. Make your way in the world. Use
the talent that’s in you, that’s what I call a useful life.
_Parasite._ Absolutely, your grace ’its it every time.
_Ichneumon Fly._ Hold your tongue, you filthy creature. I’m not talking
to you.
_Parasite._ No, of course you weren’t, my lord, beg your pardon, I’m
sure.
_Ichneumon Fly._ And how it cheers you up when you do your duty like
that. ‘Do the job that’s nearest, though it’s dull at whiles.’ When you
feel that, you feel that you are not living in vain. ‘Life is _real_,
life is earnest, life is not an empty dream.’ Well, good afternoon,
sir, I must be off again! ‘The daily round, the common task!’ So long!
[_Exit._
_Parasite._ The old murderer. Believe me, it was all I could do, not
to fly at his throat! Yes, sir, I’ll work too if need be, but why
should I work when somebody else has more than he can consume? I’ve got
initiative—but I keep it here. (_Pats stomach_) I’m ’ungry, that’s
what I am, ’ungry, that’s a pretty stage of things, isn’t it?
_Tramp._ Anything for a piece of meat.
_Parasite._ That’s what I say. Anything for a piece of meat, and the
poor man’s got nothing. It’s against nature. Every one should have
enough to eat, eh? Down with work!
_Tramp._ (_Shaking rattle_) Poor creature, poor creature!
_Parasite._ That’s it. Every one’s got a right to live.
[_Rattle and chirping in reply._
_Mr. Cricket._ (_Enters, rattling_) Here I am, my pet, here I am, my
darling. Where are you, my precious? Guess what hubby’s brought you.
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Behind him_) Aha!
_Tramp._ Look out—look out!
_Parasite._ Don’t interfere, mate—don’t get mixed up in it. What must
be, must be.
_Mr. Cricket._ Mummy!
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Kills him_) Larva, look what your kind daddy’s
bringing you now.
_Tramp._ Oh, Gawd in Heaven—’ow can you stand by and see it?
_Parasite._ Just what I say. That’s the third cricket he’s had already,
and me nothing. And that’s what we poor working men are asked to put up
with.
_Ichneumon Fly._ (_Re-entering_) No, no, kiddy, I’ve no time. Daddy
must go back to work. Eat, eat, eat. Quiet now, I’ll be back in an hour.
[_Exit._
_Parasite._ It’s more than I can stand—dirty old profiteer! What
injustice! I’ll show ’im, that I will. Just you wait! (_Trembling_)
’E’s not coming back, is ’e? Keep cave! I must just ’ave a look.
_Tramp._ Thank ’eaven! These ’eathen insec’s may be vile,
But man—man’s diff’rent. Folks like me an’ you
Work ’ard, real ’ard, and makes our little pile ...
Blast! I’m all mixed. _That’s_ what them beetles do.
It’s what I say—_man_ ’as ideals and dreams
And fam’ly love. ’Is purpose—put it plain—
Is keepin’ up the race ..., ’Ullo, though,—seems
I’ve got them crickets fairly on the brain.
Bold—that’s what man is: resolute, yer might s’y.
If ’e wants more, ’e does ’is neighbour in ...
O ’Ell! That makes ’im like this murd’rous fly ...
But, there you are, ’oo can think straight on gin?
_Chrysalis._ I feel something great—something great.
_Tramp._ What jer call great?
_Chrysalis._ To be born, to live!
_Tramp._ All right, little chrysalis—I won’t desert yer.
_Parasite._ (_Rolling out of the_ FLY’S _lair, and
hiccoughing_) Ha, ha, ha! Hup—that—ha, ha, hup—the old
miser—hup—kept a larder—hup—for that white-faced daughter of his.
Hup—ha, ha. I feel quite—hup—I think I’m going to bust—damn the
hiccoughs! It’s not every one who’d eat as much as that—hup. I’m not a
common man, eh, mate?
_Tramp._ And ’ow about the Larva?
_Parasite._ Oh, I’ve gobbled her up too, hup. For what we ’ave received
may the—hup.
_Tramp._ Gah! Bleedin’ Bolshie!