like this before.
BOB. [_Suddenly quite serious._] What does that fellow do for a living,
anyhow?
MOLLIE. How should I know?
BOB. Didn't you ever ask Hilda?
MOLLIE. Certainly not. Hilda doesn't ask me about your business; why
should I pry into her affairs?
BOB. [_Taking out his cigarette case and lighting a cigarette._] Mollie,
I see you're strong for the Constitution of the United States.
MOLLIE. [_Suspiciously._] What do you mean by that?
BOB. The Constitution says: "Whereas it is a self-evident truth that all
men are born equal"--[_With a wave of the hand._] Hilda and you, and the
Terrible Swede and I and----
MOLLIE. [_Interrupting._] Bob, you're such a _heathen_! _That's not in
the Constitution._ That's in the Bible!
BOB. Well, wherever it is, until this evening I never realized what a
personage Hilda is.
MOLLIE. You can make fun of me all you please, but I know what's right!
Your remarks don't influence me in the least--not in the least!
BOB. [_Murmurs thoughtfully and feelingly._] How true! [_Abruptly._] Why
don't they get married? Do you know that?
MOLLIE. All I know is that they are waiting until his business is
entirely successful, so that Hilda won't have to work.
BOB. Well, the Swedes are pretty careful of their money. The chances are
Hilda has a neat little nest-egg laid by.
MOLLIE. [_Hesitating and doubtfully._] That's one thing that worries me
a little. I think Hilda puts money--into--into--into the young man's
business.
BOB. [_Indignantly._] Do you mean to tell me that this girl gives her
money to that fellow and you don't try to find out a thing about him?
Who he is or what he does? I suppose she supports the loafer.
MOLLIE. [_With dignity._] He's not a loafer. I've seen him and I've
talked with him, and I know he's a gentleman.
BOB. Mollie, I'm getting tired of all that kind of drivel. I believe
nowadays women give a good deal more thought to pleasing their maids
than they do to pleasing their husbands.
MOLLIE. [_Demurely._] Well, you know, Bob, your maid can leave you much
easier than your husband can--[_pauses thoughtfully_] and I'm sure she's
much harder to replace.
BOB. [_Very angry, looking at his watch, throwing his napkin on the
table and standing up._] Mollie, our dinner has been interrupted for
fifteen minutes while Hilda entertains her [_with sarcasm_] gentleman
friend. If you won't stop it, I will.
[_Steps toward the door, centre._
MOLLIE. [_Sternly, pointing to_ BOB'S _chair_.] Robert, sit down!
[BOB _pauses, momentarily, and at the instant_ HILDA _enters,
centre, meeting_ BOB, _face to face. Both are startled._ BOB, _in a
surly manner, walks back to his place at the table_. HILDA
_follows, excited and eager_. BOB _sits down and_ HILDA _stands for
a moment at the table, smiling from one to the other and evidently
anxious to say something_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _are severe and
unfriendly. They gaze at_ HILDA _coldly. Slowly_ HILDA'S
_enthusiasm cools, and she becomes again the impassive servant_.
HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am very sorry. I bring the
dinner right in. [_Hilda exits left._
BOB. It's all nonsense. [_Touches the plates again, but this time even
more cautiously than before. This time he finds they are entirely safe
to handle._] These plates are stone cold now.
[HILDA _enters, left, with meat platter. Places it before_ BOB. _He
serves the meat and_ MOLLIE _starts to serve the vegetables_. HILDA
_hands_ MOLLIE _her meat plate_.
MOLLIE. Vegetables? [BOB _is chewing on his meat and does not answer_.
MOLLIE _looks at him inquiringly. But his eyes are on his plate.
Repeating._] Vegetables? [_Still no answer from_ BOB. _Very softly,
under her breath._] H'mm.
[MOLLIE _helps herself to vegetables and then dishes out a portion
which she hands to_ HILDA, _who in turn places the dish beside_
BOB. _When both are served_ HILDA _stands for a moment back of the
table. She clasps and unclasps her hands in a nervous manner, seems
about to speak, but as_ BOB _and_ MOLLIE _pay no attention to her
she slowly and reluctantly turns, and exits left_. MOLLIE _takes
one or two bites of the meat and then gives a quick glance at_ BOB.
_He is busy chewing at his meat, and_ MOLLIE _quietly lays down her
knife and fork and turns to the vegetables_.
BOB. [_Chewing desperately on his meat._] Tenderloin, I believe?
MOLLIE. [_Sweetly._] Yes, dear.
BOB. [_Imitating_ MOLLIE _a moment back_.] H'mm! [_He takes one or two
more hard bites._] Mollie, I have an idea.
MOLLIE. I'm relieved.
BOB. [_Savagely._] Yes, you will be when you hear it. When we get that
builder's name from Fanny Russell, we'll tell him that instead of a
garage, which we don't need, he can build a special telephone booth off
the kitchen. Then while Hilda serves the dinner----
[BOB _stops short, as_ HILDA _bursts in abruptly, left, and comes
to the table_.
HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am so excited.
MOLLIE. [_Anxiously._] Is anything wrong, Hilda?
HILDA. [_Explosively._] Meeses Aispenhayne, Meester Leendquist he say
you want to move to Highland Park.
[BOB _and_ MOLLIE _simultaneously drop their knives and forks and
look at_ HILDA _in astonishment and wonder_.
MOLLIE. What?
BOB. Who?
HILDA. [_Repeats very rapidly._] Meester Leendquist, he say you look for
house on North Shore!
MOLLIE. [_Utterly overcome at_ HILDA'S _knowledge and at a loss for
words of denial_.] We move to the North Shore? How ridiculous! Hilda,
where did you get such an idea? [_Turns to_ ROBERT.] Robert, did you
ever hear anything so laughable? [_She forces a strained laugh._] Ha!
Ha! Ha! [ROBERT _has been looking at_ HILDA _in dumb wonder. At_
MOLLIE'S _question he turns to her in startled surprise. He starts to
answer, gulps, swallows hard, and then coughs violently. Very sharply,
after waiting a moment for_ BOB _to answer_.] Robert Espenhayne, will
you stop that coughing and answer me!
BOB. [_Between coughs, and drinking a glass of water._] Egh! Egh! Excuse
me! Something, eh! egh! stuck in my throat.
MOLLIE. [_Turning to_ HILDA.] Some day we might want to move north,
Hilda, but not now! Oh, no, not now!
BOB. Who told you that, Hilda?
HILDA. Meester Leendquist.
MOLLIE. [_Puzzled._] Who is Mr. Lindquist?
HILDA. [_Surprised._] Meester Leendquist--[_Pauses, a trifle
embarrassed._] Meester Leendquist ees young man who just speak to me on
telephone. He come to see me every Saturday.
BOB. Oh, Mr. Lindquist, the--the--Ter----
MOLLIE. [_Interrupting frantically, and waving her hands at_ BOB.] Yes,
yes, of course. You know--Mr. Lindquist! [BOB _catches himself just in
time and_ MOLLIE _settles back with a sigh of relief, then turns to_
HILDA _with a puzzled air_.] But where did Mr. Lindquist get such an
idea?
HILDA. Mrs. Russell tell heem so.
MOLLIE. [_Now entirely bewildered._] What Mrs. Russell?
HILDA. Meeses Russell--your friend.
MOLLIE. [_More and more at sea._] Mrs. Edwin Russell, who comes to see
me--every now and then?
HILDA. Yes.
MOLLIE. But how does Mrs. Russell know Mr. Lindquist and why should she
tell Mr. Lindquist that we expected to move to the North Shore?
HILDA. Meester Leendquist, he build Meeses Russell's house. That ees
hees business. He build houses on North Shore and he sell them and rent
them.
[BOB _and_ MOLLIE _look at each other and at_ HILDA, _in wonder and
astonishment as the situation slowly filters into their brains. A
long pause._]
BOB. [_In awe and astonishment._] You mean that Mr. Lindquist, the young
man who comes to see you every--every--every now and then--is the same
man who put up the Russell house?
HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
BOB. [_Slowly._] And when Mrs. Espenhayne [_points to_ MOLLIE] wrote to
Mrs. Russell [_jerks his thumb to indicate the north_], Mrs. Russell
told Mr. Lindquist [_jerks his thumb in opposite direction_] and Mr.
Lindquist telephoned to you?
[_Points to_ HILDA.
HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne. [_Nodding._
BOB. [_Very thoughtfully and slowly._] H'mm! [_Then slowly resuming his
meal and speaking in mock seriousness, in subtle jest at_ MOLLIE, _and
imitating her tone of a moment or two back_.] But of course, you
understand, Hilda, we don't want to move to the North Shore now! Oh, no,
not now!
HILDA. [_Somewhat crestfallen._] Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
BOB. [_Reflectively._] But, of course, if Mr. Lindquist builds houses,
we might look. Yes, we might look.
HILDA. [_In growing confidence and enthusiasm._] Yes, Meester
Aispenhayne, and he build such beautiful houses and so cheap. He do so
much heemself. Hees father was carpenter and he work hees way through
Uneeversity of Mennesota and study architecture and then he go to
Uneeversity of Eelenois and study landscape gardening and now he been in
business for heemself sex years. And oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, you must
see hees own home! You will love eet, eet ees so beautiful. A little
house, far back from the road. You can hardly see eet for the trees and
the shrubs, and een the summer the roses grow all around eet. Eet is
just like the picture book!
MOLLIE. [_In the most perfunctory tone, utterly without interest or
enthusiasm._] How charming! [_Pauses thoughtfully, then turns to_ HILDA,
_anxiously_.] Then I suppose, Hilda, if we should decide to move up to
the North Shore you would go with us?
HILDA. [_Hesitatingly._] Yes, Meeses Aispenhayne. [_Pauses._] But I
theenk I must tell you thees spring Meester Leendquist and I aixpect to
get married. Meester Leendquist's business ees very good. [_With a quick
smile and a glance from one to the other._] You know, I am partner with
heem. I put all my money een Meester Leendquist's business too.
[MOLLIE _and_ BOB _gaze at each other in complete resignation and
surrender_.
BOB. [_Quite seriously after a long pause._] Hilda, I don't know whether
we will move north or not, but the next time Mr. Lindquist comes here I
want you to introduce me to him. I'd like to know him. You ought to be
very proud of a man like that.
HILDA. [_Radiant with pleasure._] Thank you, Meester Aispenhayne.
MOLLIE. Yes, indeed, Hilda, Mr. Espenhayne has often said what a fine
young man Mr. Lindquist seems to be. We want to meet him, and Mr.
Espenhayne and I will talk about the house, and then we will speak to
Mr. Lindquist. [_Then weakly._] Of course, we didn't expect to move
north for a long time, but, of course, if you expect to get married, and
Mr. Lindquist builds houses---- [_Her voice dies out. Long pause._
HILDA. Thank you, Meeses Aispenhayne, I tell Mr. Leendquist.
[HILDA _stands at the table a moment longer, then slowly turns and
moves toward door, left_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _watch her and as she
moves away from the table_ BOB _turns to_ MOLLIE. _At this moment_
HILDA _stops, turns suddenly and returns to the table_.
HILDA. Oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, I forget one theeng!
MOLLIE. What now, Hilda?
HILDA. Meester Leendquist say eef you and Meester Aispenhayne want to
look at property on North Shore, I shall let heem know and he meet you
at station weeth hees automobile.
CURTAIN
A DOLLAR
BY
DAVID PINSKI
_A Dollar_ is reprinted by special permission of David Pinski and of
B. W. Huebach, New York City, the publisher of David Pinski's _Ten
Plays_, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For
permission to perform address the publisher.
DAVID PINSKI
David Pinski, perhaps the most notable dramatist of the Yiddish Theatre,
was born of Jewish parentage April 5, 1872, in Mohilev, on the Dnieper,
White Russia. Because his parents had rabbinical aspirations for him he
was well educated in Hebrew studies (Bible and Talmud) by his fourteenth
year, when he moved to Moscow, where he was further trained in classical
and secular studies. In 1891 he planned to study medicine in Vienna, but
soon returned to Warsaw, where he began his literary work as a
short-story writer. In 1896 he took up the study of philosophy and
literature, and in 1899 wrote his first plays. In 1899 he came to New
York City, where he is now editor of the Jewish daily, _Die Zeit_. In
1911 he revisited Germany to see a production of his well-known comedy,
_The Treasure_, by Max Reinhart.
Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism,
and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and
leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic
technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with
it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the
different forms of the dramatic technique--avoidance of tediousness."
Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on
Yiddish themes. _Forgotten Souls_, _The Stranger_, _Sufferings_, _The
Treasure_, _The Phonograph_, and _A Dollar_ may be mentioned. Most of
his plays have been produced many times; _The Stranger_ played the third
season in Moscow.
"I wrote _A Dollar_," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard
pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh
at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers
before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money
joy in the bigger comedy, _The Treasure_."
PERSONS
The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.
THE COMEDIAN
THE VILLAIN
THE TRAGEDIAN
ACTOR _who plays_ "OLD MAN" _rôle_
THE HEROINE
THE INGENUE
ACTRESS _who plays_ "OLD WOMAN" _rôle_
THE STRANGER
A DOLLAR
_A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left
to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into
the forest. The roadside is bordered with grass. On the right, at
the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards,
giving directions and distances._
_The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling
players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The_
COMEDIAN _walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by
the_ VILLAIN _carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in
bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
MAN" _carrying together a large, heavy trunk_.
COMEDIAN. [_Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the
boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors._] That way
[_pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction_]
is thirty miles. This way [_pointing to left_] is forty-five--and that
way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never
reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from,
whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever
crowned our histrionic successes.
VILLAIN. [_Exhausted._] Who will lend me a hand to wipe off my
perspiration? It has a nasty way of streaming into my mouth.
COMEDIAN. Stand on your head, then, and let your perspiration water a
more fruitful soil.
VILLAIN. Oh!
[_He drops his arms, the bundles fall down. He then sinks down onto
one of them and wipes off the perspiration, moving his hand wearily
over his face. The_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _approach the
post and read the signs_.
TRAGEDIAN. [_In a deep, dramatic voice._] It's hopeless! It's hopeless!
[_He lets go his end of the trunk._
"OLD MAN." [_Lets go his end of the trunk._] Mm. Another stop.
[TRAGEDIAN _sits himself down on the trunk in a tragico-heroic
pose, knees wide apart, right elbow on right knee, left hand on
left leg, head slightly bent toward the right_. COMEDIAN _puts down
the valises and rolls a cigarette_. The "OLD MAN" _also sits down
upon the trunk, head sunk upon his breast_.
VILLAIN. Thirty miles to the nearest town! Thirty miles!
COMEDIAN. It's an outrage how far people move their towns away from us.
VILLAIN. We won't strike a town until the day after to-morrow.
COMEDIAN. Hurrah! That's luck for you! There's yet a day-after-to-morrow
for us.
VILLAIN. And the old women are still far behind us. Crawling!
"OLD MAN." They want the vote and they can't even walk.
COMEDIAN. We won't give them votes, that's settled. Down with votes for
women!
VILLAIN. It seems the devil himself can't take you! Neither your tongue
nor your feet ever get tired. You get on my nerves. Sit down and shut up
for a moment.
COMEDIAN. _Me?_ Ha--ha! I'm going back there to the lady of my heart.
I'll meet her and fetch her hither in my arms.
[_He spits on his hands, turns up his sleeves, and strides rapidly
off toward the left._
VILLAIN. Clown!
"OLD MAN." How can he laugh and play his pranks even now? We haven't a
cent to our souls, our supply of food is running low and our shoes are
dilapidated.
TRAGEDIAN. [_With an outburst._] Stop it! No reckoning! The number of
our sins is great and the tale of our misfortunes is even greater. Holy
Father! Our flasks are empty; I'd give what is left of our soles
[_displaying his ragged shoes_] for just a smell of whiskey.
[_From the left is heard the laughter of a woman. Enter the_
COMEDIAN _carrying in his arms the_ HEROINE, _who has her hands
around his neck and holds a satchel in both hands behind his back_.
COMEDIAN. [_Letting his burden down upon the grass._] Sit down, my love,
and rest up. We go no further to-day. Your feet, your tender little feet
must ache you. How unhappy that makes me! At the first opportunity I
shall buy you an automobile.
HEROINE. And in the meantime you may carry me oftener.
COMEDIAN. The beast of burden hears and obeys.
[_Enter the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN," _each carrying a small
satchel_.
INGENUE. [_Weary and pouting._] Ah! No one carried _me_.
[_She sits on the grass to the right of the_ HEROINE.
VILLAIN. We have only one ass with us.
[COMEDIAN _stretches himself out at the feet of the_ HEROINE _and
emits the bray of a donkey_. "OLD WOMAN" _sits down on the grass to
the left of the_ HEROINE.
"OLD WOMAN." And are we to pass the night here?
"OLD MAN." No, we shall stop at "Hotel Neverwas."
COMEDIAN. Don't you like our night's lodgings? [_Turning over toward
the_ "OLD WOMAN."] See, the bed is broad and wide, and certainly
without vermin. Just feel the high grass. Such a soft bed you never
slept in. And you shall have a cover embroidered with the moon and
stars, a cover such as no royal bride ever possessed.
"OLD WOMAN." You're laughing, and I feel like crying.
COMEDIAN. Crying? You should be ashamed of the sun which favors you with
its setting splendor. Look, and be inspired!
VILLAIN. Yes, look and expire.
COMEDIAN. Look, and shout with ecstasy!
"OLD MAN." Look, and burst!
[INGENUE _starts sobbing_. TRAGEDIAN _laughs heavily_.
COMEDIAN. [_Turning over to the_ INGENUE.] What! You are crying? Aren't
you ashamed of yourself?
INGENUE. I'm sad.
"OLD WOMAN." [_Sniffling._] I can't stand it any longer.
HEROINE. Stop it! Or I'll start bawling, too.
[COMEDIAN _springs to his knees and looks quickly from one woman to
the other_.
VILLAIN. Ha--ha! Cheer them up, clown!
COMEDIAN. [_Jumps up abruptly without the aid of his hands._] Ladies and
gentlemen, I have it! [_In a measured and singing voice._] Ladies and
gentlemen, I have it!
HEROINE. What have you?
COMEDIAN. Cheerfulness.
VILLAIN. Go bury yourself, clown.
TRAGEDIAN. [_As before._] Ho-ho-ho!
"OLD MAN." P-o-o-h!
[_The women weep all the louder._
COMEDIAN. I have--a bottle of whiskey!
[_General commotion. The women stop crying and look up to the_
COMEDIAN _in amazement; the_ TRAGEDIAN _straightens himself out and
casts a surprised look at the_ COMEDIAN; the "OLD MAN," _rubbing
his hands, jumps to his feet; the_ VILLAIN _looks suspiciously at
the_ COMEDIAN.
TRAGEDIAN. A bottle of whiskey?
"OLD MAN." He-he-he--A bottle of whiskey.
VILLAIN. Hum--whiskey.
COMEDIAN. You bet! A bottle of whiskey, hidden and preserved for such
moments as this, a moment of masculine depression and feminine tears.
[_Taking the flask from his hip pocket. The expression on the faces
of all changes from hope to disappointment._
VILLAIN. You call that a bottle. I call it a flask.
TRAGEDIAN. [_Explosively._] A thimble!
"OLD MAN." A dropper!
"OLD WOMAN." For seven of us! Oh!
COMEDIAN. [_Letting the flash sparkle in the sun._] But it's whiskey, my
children. [_Opening the flask and smelling it._] U--u--u--m! That's
whiskey for you. The saloonkeeper from whom I hooked it will become a
teetotaler from sheer despair.
[TRAGEDIAN _rising heavily and slowly proceeding toward the flask_.
VILLAIN _still skeptical and rising as if unwilling. The_ "OLD MAN"
_chuckling and rubbing his hands. The_ "OLD WOMAN" _getting up
indifferently and moving apathetically toward the flask. The_
HEROINE _and_ INGENUE _hold each other by the hand and take ballet
steps in waltz time. All approach the_ COMEDIAN _with necks eagerly
stretched out and smell the flask, which the_ COMEDIAN _holds
firmly in both hands_.
TRAGEDIAN. Ho--ho--ho--Fine!
"OLD MAN." He--he--Small quantity, but excellent quality!
VILLAIN. Seems to be good whiskey.
HEROINE. [_Dancing and singing._] My comedian, my comedian. His head is
in the right place. But why didn't you nab a larger bottle?
COMEDIAN. My beloved one, I had to take in consideration both the
quality of the whiskey and the size of my pocket.
"OLD WOMAN." If only there's enough of it to go round.
INGENUE. Oh, I'm feeling sad again.
COMEDIAN. Cheer up, there will be enough for us all. Cheer up. Here,
smell it again.
[_They smell again and cheerfulness reappears. They join hands and
dance and sing, forming a circle, the_ COMEDIAN _applauding_.
COMEDIAN. Good! If you are so cheered after a mere smell of it, what
won't you feel like after a drink. Wait, I'll join you. [_He hides the
whiskey flask in his pocket._] I'll show you a new roundel which we will
perform in our next presentation of Hamlet, to the great edification of
our esteemed audience. [_Kicking the_ VILLAIN'S _bundles out of the
way_.] The place is clear, now for dance and play. Join hands and form a
circle, but you, Villain, stay on the outside of it. You are to try to
get in and we dance and are not to let you in, without getting out of
step. Understand? Now then!
[_The circle is formed in the following order_--COMEDIAN, HEROINE,
TRAGEDIAN, "OLD WOMAN," "OLD MAN," INGENUE.
COMEDIAN. [_Singing._]
To be or not to be, that is the question.
That is the question, that is the question.
He who would enter in,
Climb he must over us,
If over he cannot,
He must get under us.
REFRAIN
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Over us, under us.
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Under us, over us.
Now we are jolly, jolly are we.
[_The_ COMEDIAN _sings the refrain alone at first and the others
repeat it together with him_.
COMEDIAN.
To be or not to be, that is the question,
That is the question, that is the question.
In life to win success,
Elbow your way through,
Jostle the next one,
Else _you_ will be jostled.
REFRAIN
[_Same as before._]
[_On the last word of the refrain they flop as if dumbfounded, and
stand transfixed, with eyes directed on one spot inside of the
ring. The_ VILLAIN _leans over the arms of the_ COMEDIAN _and the_
HEROINE; _gradually the circle draws closer till their heads almost
touch. They attempt to free their handy but each holds on to the
other and all seven whisper in great astonishment._
ALL. A dollar!
[_The circle opens up again, they look each at the other and shout
in wonder._
ALL. A dollar!
[_Once more they close in and the struggle to free their hands
grows wilder; the_ VILLAIN _tries to climb over and then under the
hands into the circle and stretches out his hand toward the dollar,
but instinctively he is stopped by the couple he tries to pass
between, even when he is not seen but only felt. Again all lean
their heads over the dollar, quite lost in the contemplation of it,
and whispering, enraptured._
ALL. A dollar!
[_Separating once again they look at each other with exultation and
at the same time try to free their hands, once more exclaiming in
ecstasy._
ALL. A dollar!
[_Then the struggle to get free grows wilder and wilder. The hand
that is perchance freed is quickly grasped again by the one who
held it._
INGENUE. [_In pain._] Oh, my hands, my hands! You'll break them. Let go
of my hands!
"OLD WOMAN." If you don't let go of my hands I'll bite.
[_Attempting to bite the hands of the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
MAN," _while they try to prevent it_.