Part 1

_PENELOPE_

_THE PLAYS OF WILLIAM SOMERSET MAUGHAM_

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_LADY FREDERICK_ _JACK STRAW_ _A MAN OF HONOUR_ _MRS. DOT_ _THE EXPLORER_

_NOVELS BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

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_THE EXPLORER_ _THE MAGICIAN_ _THE MERRY-GO-ROUND_ _MRS. CRADDOCK_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_

_PENELOPE_

_A COMEDY_

_In Three Acts_

_BY W. S. MAUGHAM_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_ _MCMXII_

_Copyright 1912_

This play, originally called _Man and Wife_, was produced at the Comedy Theatre on Saturday, January 9, 1909, with the following cast:

DR. O’FARRELL W. GRAHAM BROWNE PROFESSOR GOLIGHTLY ALFRED BISHOP DAVENPORT BARLOW ERIC LEWIS MR. BEADSWORTH HERBERT ROSS MR. ANDERSON J. H. BREWER MRS. FERGUSSON NORMA WHALLEY MRS. GOLIGHTLY KATE BISHOP MRS. WATSON MRS. CHARLES CALVERT PEYTON E. ARTHUR JONES PENELOPE MARIE TEMPEST

_CHARACTERS_

PENELOPE DR. O’FARRELL PROFESSOR GOLIGHTLY MRS. GOLIGHTLY MR. DAVENPORT BARLOW MRS. FERGUSSON MR. BEADSWORTH MRS. WATSON A PATIENT PEYTON

SCENE: _Dr. O’Farrell’s house in John Street, Mayfair_

TIME: _The Present Day_

_The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author’s Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained._

PENELOPE

THE FIRST ACT

SCENE: _A drawing-room in_ O’FARRELL’S _house in John Street. It is very prettily but not extravagantly furnished. The_ O’FARRELLS _are a young married couple of modest income_.

_It is between six and seven in the evening._

PEYTON, _a neat parlour-maid, opens the door and shows in_ MR. DAVENPORT BARLOW.

BARLOW _is a short, self-important person of middle age. He is very bald, red in the face, and wears a small, neatly curled moustache; he is dressed in the height of fashion. His manner is fussy and pompous. He comes forward as though he expected to find some one in the room. Seeing that it is empty, he stops and looks at_ PEYTON. _He cannot make out why there is no one to receive him._

BARLOW.

[_In a tone of surprise._] Is Mrs. O’Farrell not here?

PEYTON.

No, sir.

BARLOW.

H’m.... Will you let her know I’ve come?

PEYTON.

Mrs. O’Farrell is not at home, sir.

BARLOW.

Not at home?... But....

PEYTON.

Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you kindly sit down and make yourself comfortable? And I was to give you the _Morning Post_.

BARLOW.

[_Pompously._] I can’t imagine why Mrs. O’Farrell should think I haven’t read the _Morning Post_ at six o’clock in the evening.

PEYTON.

[_Imperturbably._] And Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a whisky and soda, sir?

BARLOW.

But when is Mrs. O’Farrell coming in?

PEYTON.

I don’t know at all, sir.

BARLOW.

But she telegraphed to me this afternoon, asking me to come and see her at once.

PEYTON.

Yes, sir; I took the telegram to the post office myself.

BARLOW.

It seems very extraordinary that she should have gone out. The matter was of considerable importance.

PEYTON.

[_Politely._] Yes, sir.

BARLOW.

Very well, I’ll sit down and wait. But I can’t stay long. I’m dining at ... no matter.

PEYTON.

Very good, sir.

[PEYTON _goes out_. BARLOW _goes to a looking-glass, takes a little brush out of his pocket, and brushes his moustache_. PEYTON _comes in again with a small tray on which are a decanter, a syphon, and a glass_.

BARLOW.

Oh, thank you. Did you say you had the _Morning Post_?

PEYTON.

Yes, sir. [_She hands it to him.

BARLOW.

Ah, thank you.

[PEYTON _goes out_. BARLOW _helps himself to a whisky and soda, turns to the fashionable intelligence in the paper, and begins to read it with a little smile of self-satisfaction_.

BARLOW.

[_Half to himself._] The Duchess of St. Erth returned to Wales yesterday. The Marchioness of Mereston has arrived at 89 Grosvenor Square. The Marchioness of Serlo and Lady Eleanor King leave for Paris this morning.

[PEYTON _comes in, followed by_ MRS. GOLIGHTLY. MRS. GOLIGHTLY _is an extremely stout, good-natured lady of middle age. She is very active, but short of breath. She gives one a continual impression of having just run up a steep hill. She is_ DAVENPORT BARLOW’S _sister_.

PEYTON.

Mrs. Golightly.

BARLOW.

Isabel!

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Are you here, Davenport? Where’s Penelope?

BARLOW.

[_As if it were the most extraordinary thing in the world._] She’s out!

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Astonished._] Out?

[_She turns to_ PEYTON _with a look of inquiry_.

PEYTON.

Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you kindly sit down and make yourself comfortable, ma’am? And I was to bring you the _Church Times_.

BARLOW.

But....

PEYTON.

[_Calmly._] And Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a strong cup of tea, ma’am?

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

I’m surprised that Mrs. O’Farrell should have gone out, because she expected me.

PEYTON.

[_Handing_ MRS. GOLIGHTLY _a paper_.] Yes, ma’am.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Taking it._] What is this?

PEYTON.

The _Church Times_, ma’am.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_With a look of exasperation at_ BARLOW.] Oh, thank you.... I think I will have a cup of tea, please.

PEYTON.

Very good, ma’am.

[_Exit._

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

I wonder why on earth Penelope should insist on my reading the _Church Times_.

BARLOW.

I’ve just had a telegram from her.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

So have I, asking me to come at once. [_With a ray of light._] Perhaps we shall find some explanation in the _Church Times_.

BARLOW.

Nonsense. What can the _Church Times_ have to do with the Archduchess Anastasia?

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

My dear Davenport, what are you talking about?

[PEYTON _enters to announce_ PROFESSOR GOLIGHTLY _and immediately afterwards goes out_. GOLIGHTLY _is a tall, spare man with grey hair, well groomed and alert. He is neatly dressed, quite tidy, and might just as well be a lawyer or a doctor as a professor of mathematics. He is clean-shaven._

PEYTON.

Professor Golightly.

GOLIGHTLY.

Hulloa, Davenport! [_To his wife._] My dear, you’re the last person I expected to find here. I thought there was a meeting of the Missionary Society at the Albert Hall.

[PEYTON _comes in with a tray on which are tea-things, a glass of barley-water, and a copy of the “Athenæum_.”

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Oh, thank you.

PEYTON.

[_To_ GOLIGHTLY.] Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a glass of barley-water, sir?

GOLIGHTLY.

Barley-water!

PEYTON.

And I was to bring you the _Athenæum_. We couldn’t get this week’s, sir, but this is last week’s, and Mrs. O’Farrell hopes it will do as well.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_With a faint smile._] It’s very kind of you to have taken so much trouble.

PEYTON.

Thank you, sir.

[_Exit._

GOLIGHTLY.

What on earth does Penelope want me to do with last week’s _Athenæum_ and a glass of barley-water?

BARLOW.

Well, presumably she wants you to drink the one and to read the other.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_To his wife._] My dear, I think it’s very hard that you should have brought up our only child on the idea that my favourite form of refreshment is barley-water.

BARLOW.

It looks as if Penelope expected you, too.

GOLIGHTLY.

I’ve just had a wire from her.

BARLOW.

Have you? I wonder why on earth she wired to you.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

It’s so extraordinary that she shouldn’t be here. It makes me feel very nervous.

GOLIGHTLY.

Well, frankly, I couldn’t make head or tail of it, so I jumped into a motor cab and came round from the club at once.

[PEYTON _comes in, followed by_ BEADSWORTH. _He is a middle-aged solicitor, with a benign manner._

PEYTON.

Mr. Beadsworth.

GOLIGHTLY.

Well, I’m hanged.

BARLOW.

My dear Charles, I wish you wouldn’t be slangy. It’s gone out in our set.

BEADSWORTH.

[_Shaking hands with_ MRS. GOLIGHTLY.] I’ve just had a telegram from Penelope asking me to come at once. [_Turning to_ PEYTON.] Will you let Mrs. O’Farrell know I’m here?

GOLIGHTLY.

She’s out.

PEYTON.

Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you make yourself comfortable, sir, and we’ve got the _Law Times_ if you’d like to read it, and will you have a glass of port, sir?

[BEADSWORTH _looks round at the others in bewilderment_.

GOLIGHTLY.

By all means have a glass of port, and I’ll swop it for my barley-water.

BEADSWORTH.

[_To_ PEYTON.] Thank you.

PEYTON.

[_Handing him the paper._] Very good, sir.

[_Exit._

BEADSWORTH.

What does she want me to do with the _Law Times_?

GOLIGHTLY.

I asked the same question when Peyton handed me last week’s _Athenæum_, and Davenport, with the perspicacity that distinguishes him, answered: read it.

BEADSWORTH.

Can you tell me what Penelope wants? Her telegram suggested that she wished to see me not as an old friend, but in my official capacity as the family solicitor.

GOLIGHTLY.

I haven’t an idea. I thought her telegram most mysterious.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

I wish she’d come in. I’m beginning to be dreadfully uneasy.

BARLOW.

[_Rather pompously._] I think I can put your minds at rest. I am in a position to explain the whole matter to you. The telegram she sent me makes it perfectly clear. I daresay you know that the Archduchess Anastasia is a patient of Dickie’s. And a very nice patient for him to have. I’ve never met her, though I happen to know several members of her family, and she’s a very cultivated, pleasant woman. I’ve always said to Dickie that that is the sort of practice he ought to get. The middle classes do a doctor no good.

GOLIGHTLY.

My dear Davenport, do go on with your story.

BARLOW.

Well, it appears that the Archduchess Anastasia has signified her desire to know Penelope. Very charming and graceful action on her part, and just like her. Of course she’s extremely grateful to Dickie for all he’s done. He’s worked a miraculous cure, and I daresay she’s heard that Penelope is my niece. It’s a maxim you can always go on: royalty knows everything. And the long and the short of it is that she’s coming to lunch here. Of course Penelope knows nothing about these matters, and in a state of great excitement she’s sent for me. It’s the best thing she could do. I can tell her everything. I’ve lived in that set all my life. It’s nothing to be particularly proud about--mere accident of birth--I happen to be a gentleman. A certain family. Well, there it is, you see.

GOLIGHTLY.

But do you mean to say that Penelope wired all that to you? It must have cost her a perfect fortune.

BARLOW.

She put it a little more briefly, of course, but that was the gist of it.

BEADSWORTH.

I can’t imagine why she should send for me because a royalty is coming to luncheon with her. It was very inconvenient to get away. I had a dozen people waiting to see me, and I was obliged to slip out by the back door in order to avoid them.

GOLIGHTLY.

But what are the exact words of the wire she sent you, Davenport?

BARLOW.

You can see it if you like. [_Taking it from his pocket and reading._] “Come at once. Archduchess Anastasia. Penelope.”

GOLIGHTLY.

But d’you mean to say that you made up all that story out of those three words?

BARLOW.

Penelope knew I had a certain amount of intelligence. She didn’t want to waste her money, so she just put what was essential, and left me to gather the rest.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

But my telegram says nothing about the Archduchess Anastasia.

BARLOW.

What did Penelope say to you?

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Taking out the telegram._] “Come at once! Grave scandal! Central African Mission. Penelope.”

BARLOW.

But that’s absurd. You know how stupid the Post Office is. They must have made a mistake. I know that the Pomeranian Royal Family is very odd, but there _are_ limits, and I can’t imagine the Archduchess Anastasia being mixed up in a scandal with a Central African missionary.

BEADSWORTH.

Well, my wire merely said: “Come at once; six and eightpence. Penelope.”

BARLOW.

Six and eightpence! Why six and eightpence?

BEADSWORTH.

I don’t know. That is why I lost no time in coming.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_With a twinkle._] My impression is that the Archduchess Anastasia, instead of paying Dickie’s bill for miraculously curing her, has eloped with a missionary, and Penelope, by aid of the law [_with a gesture towards_ BEADSWORTH], wants to recover the money.

BARLOW.

It’s nonsense! You’re so unpractical, Charles.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_To her husband._] But you had a telegram too, dear.

GOLIGHTLY.

“Come at once. Decimal 7035. Penelope.”

BARLOW.

How very odd.

[_The door is softly opened and_ PENELOPE _slips in; for a moment the others do not see her, and she stands smiling at them_. GOLIGHTLY _catches sight of her. All the others turn._]

GOLIGHTLY.

Penelope.

THE OTHERS.

Penelope.

PENELOPE.

[_Coming forward and kissing_ MRS. GOLIGHTLY.] Good evening, mamma!

BARLOW.

[_Eagerly._] Well?

PENELOPE.

Well, papa. [_She puts her face up for him to kiss._]

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Anxiously._] Now, Penelope.

PENELOPE.

Oh, Mr. Beadsworth, how nice of you to come. [_She shakes hands with him._] Kiss me, Uncle Davenport. [_She calmly puts up her face. With some irritation he kisses her._]

PENELOPE.

Thank you.... Was your whisky and soda quite right? [_Looking round._] And the port? Father, you haven’t touched the barley-water. You ungrateful old thing!

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Exasperated._] My dear, for goodness’ sake explain.

BARLOW.

Where have you been all this time?

PENELOPE.

I--I’ve been sitting in the consulting-room. [_With a roguish smile._] I watched you all come in.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_Rather injured._] Peyton said you were out.

BARLOW.

Really, Penelope, I think your behaviour is outrageous.

PENELOPE.

You see, I thought if I saw you one after the other as you came in, I should have to make four scenes instead of one. It would have been very exhausting and not nearly so effective.

GOLIGHTLY.

Are you going to make a scene?

PENELOPE.

[_With the greatest satisfaction._] I’m going to make a dreadful scene in a minute.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Now, my dear, before you go any further, for goodness’ sake tell us what you meant by your telegrams.

PENELOPE.

Well, you see, I wanted you all to come immediately, and I thought the best thing was to trail your ruling passions under your noses.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Do you understand what she means, Charles?

PENELOPE.

My dear mother, it’s the simplest thing in the world. You spend your life in converting the heathen--from a distance--and I knew if I mentioned the Central African Mission you’d fly here on the wings of the wind.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

In point of fact I came in an omnibus. But do you mean to tell me that there has been no scandal in connection with the Central African Mission?

PENELOPE.

[_Smiling._] I’m dreadfully sorry to disappoint you, mother.

GOLIGHTLY.

And what in heaven’s name made you wire decimal 7035 to me?

PENELOPE.

Oh, that’s our telephone number, and I just put decimal instead of Gerrard.

GOLIGHTLY.

I thought the figures were strangely familiar.

PENELOPE.

And there you are, you see.

BARLOW.

[_Chuckling._] I think it’s a capital idea. And she just flung the words six and eightpence at you, Beadsworth, and knew she’d fetch the lawyer.

PENELOPE.

[_To_ BEADSWORTH.] You’re not cross with me, are you?

[_He shakes his head, smiling._

BARLOW.

And now, my dear, that you’ve disposed of them, tell me all about the Archduchess Anastasia.

PENELOPE.

[_Looking at him blankly._] The Archduchess Anastasia? But I invented her.

BARLOW.

What d’you mean, you invented her? I know her well, I’ve known her for years. I know her whole family.

PENELOPE.

[_Rather embarrassed, but trying not to laugh._] Well, you see--I wanted you to come, too. And....

BARLOW.

I don’t understand what you mean at all, Penelope. You mention one of my most intimate friends, and then you tell me you invented her.

PENELOPE.

I’m awfully sorry. I really didn’t know there was such a person, and I thought I’d made her up out of my own head.... [_With a chuckle._] I think it was rather clever of me to hit upon some one you know so well.

BARLOW.

I don’t know why you should think the mere mention of the Archduchess’s name would make me come here.

PENELOPE.

Well, you see, I know that you go out a great deal, and you know such crowds of people. I felt quite sure that if there were an Archduchess Anastasia you’d know her, and [_with a wave of the hand_] well, there it is you see.

[BARLOW _fumes silently, but does not answer_.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Now, Penelope, tell us what you really do want.

PENELOPE.

[_In matter-of-fact tones._] I want to divorce Dickie.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

What!

GOLIGHTLY.

My dear child.

BARLOW.

Good gracious!

[_These three speeches are said simultaneously._

PENELOPE.

[_Ruefully._] I intended to make such a scene, and now you’ve made me blurt it all out in three words.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

But I don’t understand.

PENELOPE.

I’ll say it again, shall I? I want to divorce Dickie.

BEADSWORTH.

You don’t really mean it, do you?

PENELOPE.

[_Indignantly._] Of course I mean it. I’m never going to speak to him again. That’s to say, I shall have a scene with him first. I’m quite determined to have a scene with somebody.

GOLIGHTLY.

And where is Dickie now?

PENELOPE.

He’s on his way home with the usual story. [_With a sudden break in her voice._] Oh, if you only knew how utterably miserable I am.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

My darling, is it really serious?

PENELOPE.

[_Desperately._] Oh, what can I do to make you all understand?

GOLIGHTLY.

The best way would be to begin at the beginning, and tell us all about it coherently.

BARLOW.

[_Pompously._] My dear Charles, this is not the kind of matter in which you can be of any use. You’re a mathematician, and you’re not expected to know anything about practical affairs.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_Faintly ironic._] I apologise profusely.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

[_To_ PENELOPE, _to ask her to speak_.] Darling?

PENELOPE.

Well, the first thing is that I simply dote upon Dickie. I’ve never loved any one else, and I never shall.

BEADSWORTH.

That’s a very satisfactory confession after four years of matrimony.

PENELOPE.

Five years, three months, and two days. And every day I’ve loved Dickie more.

BEADSWORTH.

I’ve never seen a more devoted couple.

PENELOPE.

We’ve never had a quarrel. We’ve never even been cross with one another. It’s been a honeymoon that’s never come to an end.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Well?

PENELOPE.

And now I’ve discovered that he’s been lying to me for the last month. He’s been coming home dreadfully late, and when I’ve asked him where he’s been, he’s said that he had to see a patient who was very ill--such an interesting case--and it worried him so much that he was obliged to go to his club and have a rubber to settle his nerves. And the interesting case and the rubber of bridge are Ada Fergusson.

BARLOW.

[_Pompously._] But who is Ada Fergusson? I’ve never heard of her.

PENELOPE.

Ada Fergusson’s a great friend of mine. And I hate her. I always knew she was a cat. For the last four weeks Dickie’s been spending every afternoon with her from four till seven.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_Raising his eyebrows._] But do you always ask your husband where he’s been when he comes in?

PENELOPE.

[_Impatiently._] My dear papa, what has that got to do with it? We all know that you’re an old dear, and the greatest mathematician in the world, but you know nothing about life at all.

GOLIGHTLY.

I apologise again.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Give him a sheet of paper and a pencil, Penelope, and he’ll amuse himself by doing sums while we talk the matter out.

PENELOPE.

[_Pushing writing materials over to him._] There you are, papa.

BEADSWORTH.

But how did you find out?

PENELOPE.

[_Impatiently._] Oh, what does it matter how I found out! I’ve got all sorts of proofs.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

You could knock me down with a feather.

GOLIGHTLY.

[_With a smile._] My dear!

BARLOW.

I am not in the least surprised.

PENELOPE.

Uncle Davenport!

BARLOW.

I have expected it all along. You will remember, Isabel, that I was against the marriage from the beginning. I said, one doesn’t marry a doctor. One sometimes meets them in society when they’ve had their angles rubbed off a little and perhaps have been knighted, but one never meets their wives. We suppose they do marry, but they don’t marry any one we know. I may be old-fashioned, but I stick to my opinion that there are only three possible professions for a gentleman, the law, the army, and the church.

PENELOPE.

My dear Uncle Davenport, you’re talking nonsense.

BARLOW.

[_Huffily._] You ask me for my opinion, and I give it you. I regret that you should think it nonsense.

BEADSWORTH.

And what are you proposing to do now?

PENELOPE.

[_With great determination._] I’m never going to live with Dickie again. As soon as I’ve seen him I shall leave this house for ever.

BEADSWORTH.

You’re proposing to have a few words with him?

PENELOPE.

Several. I’m going to tell him that I despise him, and that I hate him; I’m going to throw my wedding ring in his face, and then I shall sweep out of the room.

BEADSWORTH.

Have you really made up your mind that you won’t forgive him?

PENELOPE.

Nothing would induce me ever to speak to him again if it weren’t that I want to tell him exactly what I think of him.

BARLOW.

Besides, you’ve got your family to think of. Of course you must leave him. You see, that is what I say, you’re not safe with people of no birth. I look upon all this as a blessing in disguise.

BEADSWORTH.

Do you wish to bring an action for judicial separation?

PENELOPE.

My dear Mr. Beadsworth, what are you talking about! I’m going to divorce him. I’m going to make an awful scandal.

BEADSWORTH.

Well, I suppose we could arrange that at a pinch with the help of the newspapers. Has he ever been cruel to you?

PENELOPE.

Good heavens, no! That’s what makes me so angry. The last month he’s been more perfectly charming and delightful than ever. Oh, I wish I could do something really unpleasant to Ada Fergusson. Something with boiling oil in it.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

I am shocked, frankly shocked. I would never have thought that Dickie could be so wicked.

BARLOW.

Family life in England is going to the dogs. That is the long and short of it.

[_Suddenly_ PENELOPE _catches sight of what_ GOLIGHTLY _has been diligently writing_. _She gives the paper a startled look and then turns round._

PENELOPE.

Mother, a dreadful thing has happened. Papa has suddenly become a drivelling lunatic.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

My dear, what are you saying?

PENELOPE.

He’s been adding two and two together all over that piece of paper, and he makes it five every time.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Charles!

[PENELOPE _hands the sheet to_ BARLOW.

PENELOPE.

Look.

BARLOW.

Two and two are five. Two and two are five.

[_He passes it on to_ BEADSWORTH.

BEADSWORTH.

Two and two are five. Two and two are five.

BARLOW.

I knew this would happen. I’ve been expecting it for years.

MRS. GOLIGHTLY.

Charles, pull yourself together.

PENELOPE.

Papa, you don’t really think that two and two are five?

GOLIGHTLY.

On the contrary, I’m convinced that two and two are four.

PENELOPE.

Then why on earth have you made it five?

GOLIGHTLY.

Do you know why you buy Pears’ soap?

PENELOPE.