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    A Bit O' Love
    A Bit O' Love
    A Bit O' Love
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    A Bit O' Love

    By John Galsworthy

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJan 1, 1999
    A Bit O' Love
    Author

    John Galsworthy

    John Galsworthy was a Nobel-Prize (1932) winning English dramatist, novelist, and poet born to an upper-middle class family in Surrey, England. He attended Harrow and trained as a barrister at New College, Oxford. Although called to the bar in 1890, rather than practise law, Galsworthy travelled extensively and began to write. It was as a playwright Galsworthy had his first success. His plays—like his most famous work, the series of novels comprising The Forsyte Saga—dealt primarily with class and the social issues of the day, and he was especially harsh on the class from which he himself came.

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      Book preview

      A Bit O' Love - John Galsworthy

      Project Gutenberg's A Bit O' Love (Fourth Series Plays), by John Galsworthy

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: A Bit O' Love (Fourth Series Plays)

      Author: John Galsworthy

      Release Date: September 26, 2004 [EBook #2915]

      Last Updated: October 28, 2012

      Language: English

      Character set encoding: ASCII

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIT O' LOVE (FOURTH SERIES ***

      Produced by David Widger

      GALSWORTHY'S PLAYS

      Links to All Volumes

      PLAYS IN THE FOURTH SERIES

      A BIT O' LOVE

      By John Galsworthy

      PERSONS OF THE PLAY

           MICHAEL STRANGWAY

           BEATRICE STRANGWAY

           MRS. BRADMERE

           JIM BERE

           JACK CREMER

           MRS. BURLACOMBE

           BURLACOMBE

           TRUSTAFORD

           JARLAND

           CLYST

           FREMAN

           GODLEIGH

           SOL POTTER

           MORSE, AND OTHERS

           IVY BURLACOMBE

           CONNIE TRUSTAFORD

           GLADYS FREMAN

           MERCY JARLAND

           TIBBY JARLAND

           BOBBIE JARLAND

         SCENE: A VILLAGE OF THE WEST

         The Action passes on Ascension Day.

         ACT I.  STRANGWAY'S rooms at BURLACOMBE'S.  Morning.

         ACT II.  Evening

              SCENE I.  The Village Inn.

              SCENE II.  The same.

              SCENE III.  Outside the church.

         ACT III.  Evening

              SCENE I.  STRANGWAY'S rooms.

              SCENE II.  BURLACOMBE'S barn.

      A BIT O' LOVE

      ACT I

      It is Ascension Day in a village of the West. In the low panelled hall-sittingroom of the BURLACOMBE'S farmhouse on the village green, MICHAEL STRANGWAY, a clerical collar round his throat and a dark Norfolk jacket on his back, is playing the flute before a very large framed photograph of a woman, which is the only picture on the walls. His age is about thirty-five his figure thin and very upright and his clean-shorn face thin, upright, narrow, with long and rather pointed ears; his dark hair is brushed in a coxcomb off his forehead. A faint smile hovers about his lips that Nature has made rather full and he has made thin, as though keeping a hard secret; but his bright grey eyes, dark round the rim, look out and upwards almost as if he were being crucified. There is something about the whole of him that makes him seen not quite present. A gentle creature, burnt within. A low broad window above a window-seat forms the background to his figure; and through its lattice panes are seen the outer gate and yew-trees of a churchyard and the porch of a church, bathed in May sunlight. The front door at right angles to the window-seat, leads to the village green, and a door on the left into the house. It is the third movement of Veracini's violin sonata that STRANGWAY plays. His back is turned to the door into the house, and he does not hear when it is opened, and IVY BURLACOMBE, the farmer's daughter, a girl of fourteen, small and quiet as a mouse, comes in, a prayer-book in one hand, and in the other a gloss of water, with wild orchis and a bit of deep pink hawthorn. She sits down on the window-seat, and having opened her book, sniffs at the flowers. Coming to the end of the movement STRANGWAY stops, and looking up at the face on the wall, heaves a long sigh.

      IVY. [From the seat] I picked these for yu, Mr. Strangway.

      STRANGWAY. [Turning with a start] Ah! Ivy. Thank you. [He puts his flute down on a chair against the far wall] Where are the others?

      As he speaks, GLADYS FREMAN, a dark gipsyish girl, and CONNIE TRUSTAFORD, a fair, stolid, blue-eyed Saxon, both about sixteen, come in through the front door, behind which they have evidently been listening. They too have prayer-books in their hands. They sidle past Ivy, and also sit down under the window.

      GLADYS. Mercy's comin', Mr. Strangway.

      STRANGWAY. Good morning, Gladys; good morning, Connie.

      He turns to a book-case on a table against the far wall, and taking out a book, finds his place in it. While he stands thus with his back to the girls, MERCY JARLAND comes in from the green. She also is about sixteen, with fair hair and china-blue eyes. She glides in quickly, hiding something behind her, and sits down on the seat next the door. And at once there is a whispering.

      STRANGWAY. [Turning to them] Good morning, Mercy.

      MERCY. Good morning, Mr. Strangway.

      STRANGWAY. Now, yesterday I was telling you what our Lord's coming meant to the world. I want you to understand that before He came there wasn't really love, as we know it. I don't mean to say that there weren't many good people; but there wasn't love for the sake of loving. D'you think you understand what I mean?

      MERCY fidgets. GLADYS'S eyes are following a fly.

      IVY. Yes, Mr. Strangway.

      STRANGWAY. It isn't enough to love people because they're good to you, or because in some way or other you're going to get something by it. We have to love because we love loving. That's the great thing —without that we're nothing but Pagans.

      GLADYS. Please, what is Pagans?

      STRANGWAY. That's what the first Christians called the people who lived in the villages and were not yet Christians, Gladys.

      MERCY. We live in a village, but we're Christians.

      STRANGWAY. [With a smile] Yes, Mercy; and what is a Christian?

      MERCY kicks afoot, sideways against her neighbour, frowns over her china-blare

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