9 X French's International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and the United States) Edition Of the Works of the Best Authors '"'"'''"l" 1 ' iiMiiHiMimi iifiiii iimihHllin minimum mmimmmmm mmmmimii iiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimimmi£ '""iiiniiiiiiiiimiiimiiiiiii iimiiiimiiimmmmimimmmi iimiiii in n iiiiiiiiiu mmmimi imiimmmmimiimS § No. 513 PAN PIPES H TKlloo&lanfc plas in One Bet 33 31 Copyright, 1919, by Constance Wilcox Copyright, 1920, by Henry Holt & Company (In a volume "Told in a Chinese Garden" and four other Fantastic Plays for outdoors or indoors) = s II 3 S ii proiessionai ana amateur acting rignts must be French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N, Y. PRICE, 30 GENTS New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 1 25 WEST 45TH STREET London SAMUEL FRENCH, Lm 26 Southampton Street STRAND 2 BY |1 CONSTANCE WILCOX | f Princess Pignatelli > II < II 00 11 ft II ALL RIGHTS RESERVED II s Ii II O 1 1 CAUTION.— Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that I "Pan Pipes," being fully protected under the copyright laws of l| the United States of America, the British Empire, including || the Dominion of Canada, and in all countries of the Copyright || Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play || without the consent of the author or her authorized agents will || be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the H II 5£ j.mn.mimTTmTTimmmTTimimrtiiiiiimiiimimimi mimmmmmmimmmmmi iiiimmiimmmiimmmmiiiiiiiiiiimmimmmmmmmmmii.' = .tmmmmiim HiiiiniHHMMMiiimillillllliiiiiiiiiiililiiillllUlulllllllllillllllllllllll!IIIIIMIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIiliiillliilillillliilliiHiiiiiiiiliiiMiiiiiiiiiii::::niiiiiiiiiiiii.' Mr,nogTl|fc BILLETED. A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 5 females. One easy interior scene. A charming comedy, constructed with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. Margaret Anglin's big success. t Amateurs will find this comedy easy to produce and popular with all audiences. Price, 60 Cent*. NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- tumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2 T /i hours. Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-four hours? It is— at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee — this is the subject of William Collier's tremendous comedy hit. "Nothing But the Truth" can be whole-heartedly recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that this country can boast. Price, 60 Centt. IN WALKED JIMMY. A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although any number of males and females may be used as clerks, etc.) Two interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2 l / 2 hours. The thing into which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, when the clerks had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in serious contemplation of suicide. Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and his everlasting humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won the heart of the girl clerk, saved her earring brother from jail, escaped that place as p. permanent boarding house himself, and foiled the villain. Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy make "In Walked Jimmy" one of the most delightful of plays. Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the religion of happiness and the religion of helpfulness", and he so permeates the atmosphere with his "religion" that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, good cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull moment in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of the "Martha" stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Cos- tumes modern. Plays 2 l / 2 hours. It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, ol*% *& "Pan Pipes" is fully protected by copyright in the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all countries of the Copyright Union, and all rights reserved. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, production, recitation, public reading or radio broadcasting may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French one week before the date when the play is given. Professional rates quoted on application. Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play : "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York." is 1 827 lie TO A. B. K. THE ORIGINAL FAUN, AND WHO HAS SINCE WITH OTHER PLAYERS, TAKEN THE PART ALONG SO MANY HIGHROADS. THE NYMPH Would you pursue me? Catch me then. How browned I am from Summer suns. How swift and slim From running in the wind. Within the dim Soft shadow of my hair is wood scent found. I hide within the wood. It is a game That two can play. My eyes are all alight With sun and shade that move for your delight. My lips are molded soft to call your name. I am a Dryad. Will you be as kind, As that tall oak that held me in its arm And whispered secrets of the wood? You know I am half elfin, daughter of the Wind And should you ever touch me to my harm, — Back to that strong oak lover will I go. FIRST PRODUCED IN MADISON, CONNECTICUT Copy of the original program : PAN PIPES A WOODLAND PLAY Characters in Order of Appearance Harry (of the Luxurio Stores) - G. Scranton Clare (his fiancee) T. Skinner A Nymph E. Wilcox The Faun ----- A. Keating The Scene — A Woodland Time — A Summer Afternoon The Play is for the Benefit of the MADISON HISTORICAL SOCIETY Admission 50c. After the Play a costume Tea will be served in the garden, 25 cents Thursday, August 28, 1919, 4 P. M. If Rainy, Friday, August 29 PAN PIPES A Woodland Play PAN PIPES 1 A Woodland Play Scene. A wooded hillside. Time. A summer afternoon. CHARACTERS Harry, of the Luxurio Stores, Clare, his fiancee. A Nymph. The Faun. 1 Copyright, 191 9, by Constance Wilcox. PAN PIPES (A Fairy Tale) r M ^HE scene is an open hillside with long grass, m sunlit and rippling in the wind. On either "^ side woodland encroaches with old gray trees and thick twisted undergrowth. A gnarled oak stands out a little by itself, against a blue and white sky. A shrill piping is heard to drift across from the wood. It is high and eerie and suddenly melts into silence. Harry and Clare appear from the back over the curve of the hillside. Harry is a stocky youth in the latest of pink shirts and black and white check trousers. He carries his coat over his arm and fans himself with a very new straw hat. His face is red and hot and his dark hair plastered in a wet straggle over his fore- head. Clare is a tiny creature in bright green, her hands thrust in the sagging pockets of her sweater. She is capped with a turned up black and green silk sport hat. Under its close brim her hair puffs out each side of her pointed face, a bright straw yellow. She is quite pale but gives the effect of color because of her incessant motion. Harry (Puffing) Nobody here. I said as there wouldn't be. 63 64 PAN PIPES Clare Oh, let's go just a bit further, Harry. It's such larks, exploring. And I'm sure I heard something — a sort of whistling like. Harry Wish it was an umpire's whistle. No such luck. Well, it couldn't be no hotter on the bleachers than it is here. Believe me. {He wipes his forehead with a pink handkerchief) And stiller'n the tombs at that. Clare {Looking about) I guess maybe it was just a locust I heard. But it's greener up here than it was down there somehow. Oh, it is pretty! Harry {Wading forward in the grass) Bugs and grass. That comes cheap. This is the rummest excursion the Luxurio Stores ever put across since I've been handlin' their taffetas. Lordy. Bare- foot dancin' by a gang of high brows in a Jersey side- track. Lordy. {He reaches the oak and stands pant- ing in its shade.) Clare {With a little twirl) They were class. Mrs. Gethem says they was — was nymphs, she said, in the real Greek colors. Harry Cheesecloth. Dyed. Fifteen a yard — wholesale. PAN PIPES 65 Clare (With a toss of her head) You're so bourgeoise, Harry. It's all the go these separate dances. It was a dance to Pan they was doin', the professor man told me. It looked like lots of fun. (She takes a light step or two.) You go just where you feel like. (She twinkles her fingers as she whirls, as if playing a Pans pipe.) It comes natural. Isn't that pretty? (Her hat falls off. She catches it, and turns suddenly.) There — you clapped your hands. Harry (Fanning himself with his hat) I did not. Give me a jazz fox-trot every time. Not but what you've got 'em all tied to a standstill for looks, Clare. Always had. I picked some winner for my best girl. Clare (Coming towards him, puzzled) Some one did clap their hands. Harry (Carefully spreading his coat on the grass under the oak) Some of the poor ginks back there applaudin' an encore of the dyed cheesecloth and bare feet to get a drag with the boss and his professor friend. Not for mine. (He sits down on the coat and pats the grass beside him.) If I've got to go to grass I prefers to nick my company. 66 PAN PIPES Clare (Dropping down quickly, beside him, her hat in her lap) I like the grass. I do. And it smells simply won- derful. It's great up here — just you and me in the sun and green — Harry (Patting her hand) Here's to it. But no fresh air fund stuff for yours truly. Coney has the same green effect with good little old railways running through it. Zip-wow — Clare (Pulling away with a little laugh. She spills over backwards on the grass) Oh — and I'd just rather roll down this hill! Harry What's eatin' you ? Want a little cheesecloth dress to caper with the rest of the bosses' highbrow entertain- ers? Some little annual picnic. Lordy. They're all crazy as katydids. And now you've got 'em. Clare (Kneeling in the grass, arranging her rumpled tousel of straw colored hair) There's lots of things different from what you and I have always known. The store — and Coney — and the movies — Harry Not forgettin' some future manceuvers with furni- ture on the instalment. PAN PIPES 67 Clare {Busy with her hair) There's other things. When we're all hustlin' in the city with so many people and houses about I don't hear 'em. But up here. (She looks about.) It's as if my mind just started talkin' to me because every- thin' else was so still. There's lots of things we don't know about, Harry. Harry I'd just as soon do without. If the bare foot trip- pin' about we was brought up here to enjoy's a sample. Clare (Staring) What's that you're sitting against, Harry? Harry (Shifting, and revealing a squarish boulder, lichen- covered and worn with time) A stone. Look out or you'll give me the jumps. Clare (Intently, as she moves near) It's — it's squarish, isn't it — and flat on top — and oh — it's got sort of marks on its sides. Harry See here. The sun's gone to your head. Put on your hat. Clare (With a laugh as she jumps up and runs to the stone) Oh, it is. I'm sure it is — one of those stones the 68 PAN PIPES professor was telling us about. He said there used to be lots about the hills — altar stones to Pan, he called them. Funny oquare stones with a little scoop in the top to catch the rain — look, here it is — Harry (Edging away nervously) Well, what of it? Why didn't the precious dancers gyrate about this if it was so grand? I guess it was too blooming hot for them. (He yawns.) Clare (Excitedly , as she balances herself on the stone) They would have if they'd known it was here, I guess. That was who they was dancin' to — Pan. Harry (Stretching himself) Who's he? Clare But the professor says nobody knows just where these stones will be or who put them here — that's the fun of it. Only — only sometimes people used to think Pan did it. He was a sort of god, you know — big and strong with hoofs like a goat, and lives in the woods — Harry (Sleepily) Bunk. Clare They — they said he used to come and drink out PAN PIPES 69 of the rain water in the hollow and after that the water was magic. Oh look ! There's some here now ! (She dips her finger in it.) Harry Bunk. Clare But think what fun to have believed it. Oh — I'm sorry I can't believe it, too. I'm sorry they're noth- ing but fairy-tales. Don't laugh, Harry. Harry (Who has slumped down on the other side of the tree, and is now preparing for a nap) I didn't laugh. I wasn't that entertained. (He rolls up his coat and thumps it into a pillow.) Clare (Indignantly, slipping off the stone) You did laugh. I heard you. Harry When you come to, wake me. (He turns over.) Clare (Stamping) Oh, sleep if you want to be so stupid. You're a pig. Nothing but a big pink pig! (She shoves him with her foot.) Harry (Sitting up sulkily and looking very like what she just called him) Say, I guess you're just a little bit above yourself. 7 o PAN PIPES Ain't you, Clare? You have been ever since we come into this silly wood. It ain't anything that's the matter with your old Harry? Is it? You know I couldn't breathe much if I thought that. (He pulls her wrist.) Clare No. Of course not. It's just — (She hammers on the grass with one fist) that you don't understand. Harry Now what don't I ? Clare Oh — just how I like the — the grass and the sun and everything. I could eat it. Harry (Running his fingers through his hair) It makes me sick. It does. It's enough to turn the gall of any straight American. That's what comes of taking decent people out to see these new fool fan- dangle idiotic dances in the woods — to Gods what never was anyhow and least of all here. Clare Oh, they were — they were — It's not just the country. It's not just Jersey or Greece or any place. They were everywhere where there were woods. Harry Yes — and what do you get out of the woods? Ant bites and dirt, and maybe a day's picnic that would be a lot cleaner in good little old Coney. Or maybe you'd PAN PIPES 71 like to be a farmer's wife? I guess you know what that means all right. They ain't overfond of the sun and woods what's all around 'em. What would the country do for us? Put us in the hobo class in a month. Leave the nature fakin' to the idle rich what has automobiles to carry 'em away from it. Don't you get your head turned by no high-brow picnic the boss gives us all — and a rotten slow one too if you ask me. {'He subsides towards his coat pillow.) No back-woods life for us. Clare But there must be some way of just — enjoyin' it. Harry {Recumbent) There ain't no way. Flies — mosquitoes — hornets — dust and five miles to the nearest corner. Lordy. Lordy. And hard on the feet — {He shoves up one yellow oxford-clad foot and surveys it.) I'm com- pletely busted. Say, Clare, you don't mind if I do take a little snooze? This country life is rougher on me for half a day than six months trampin' the aisle at the Stores — and no raise in sight here either. I'll just rest up a minute here. You run along if you like and see some more of the boss' bare foot entertainers — or get in with your friend the professor what planned the boss' treat. Treat! Lordy! Clare {As he settles comfortably down) No-o. I'll stay here — and keep off the hornets — {She fans with his hat.) 72 PAN PIPES Harry (Drowsily) Good little Clare. (He sleeps. She continues to fan gently, and then drops the hat slowly into her lap, and clasps her hands on it, looking out over the field.) (There comes suddenly the shrill quick piping from the wood. It stops.) Clare (Sitting up on her heels, and pushing back her hair) Oh — Yes? (The piping comes again louder — and stops as suddenly as before. There is a slight crackling in the wood.) Clare Who is it? (She peers into the wood. Silence.) Who is it? Harry — did you hear that? (Harry turns over with a soft grunt. He is dead asleep.) (The piping sounds again very sharply. There is a crashing in the undergrowth — and then a laugh.) Clare (Starting to her feet) Oh! That was what laughed before. (She shivers.) (Suddenly with a breaking of undergrowth a girl tears out from the wood. She is very slight with thin brown arms and legs twinkling PAN PIPES 73 from a bluish green shift, and dark hair flying out behind her. She stumbles on a root as she comes into the open, recovers her balance and flies over the ground. Her face is twisted back over her shoulder and she is gasping with terror. She collides suddenly with Clare — leaps back and then grasps her again.) Girl Quick. Run. Quick. He's close behind. Quick. (She drags at Clare.) Clare Who is? Girl (Pulling her along in an agony of haste. There comes further crackling from the bushes she has just left) Oh — hurry. Hurry. He'll have us both. It's Glaucos the Faun. He's there — and he's seen us. Clare (Holding her arm) Oh, you're one of the dancers. What's the matter? Girl (Freeing herself with a frantic jump) I must get back to my tree. I must. I shouldn't have come out — but I thought there were others. Oh, he's close here. Stop him. Stop him! (She bolts across the hill into the wood on the other side, just as The Faun crashes out of the wood behind.) 74 PAN PIPES Clare Here. Stop there. Stop! (She gets right in the way of The Faun zuho is running head down. He recoils from the collision.) Aren't you ashamed of yourself, chasing about like that! (The Faun recovers his balance, and with a sudden lurch seizes her in his arms.) The Faun Syrinx ! Clare (Freeing herself with such a violent wrench that The Faun, taken unawares tumbles suddenly backwards) How dare you! I'm not Syrinx! The Faun (Who has only bounded down like a rubber ball, and is now crouched tense, in the grass looking up at her) No? Not Syrinx? What are you then? Clare (Angrily) I'm Miss Clare Flaxon of the Luxurio Stores, and there's my fiance there, Harry Markem. I guess he'd like to wake up and see you treating me like that ! We came out on the store's annual picnic and we saw you dancing, but I don't think the boss would have much to say to you if he saw you chasing about this way. The Faun (Speculatively) I'll get her yet. (He grins and looks at the wood opposite.) The minx! PAN PIPES 75 Clare How could you chase the poor young lady so ! Even if it was all play-acting — she looked really scared. You frightened her out of her wits. The Faun (Rising) Frightened ! Was ever creature so absurd ! She loves it. The chase. The wind in her face. The excitement. The scant breath. She lives for it! Clare She looked just exhausted to me. And I should think she would be with all that dancing down there in the glade — and all the encores we gave them. The Faun What! (He stares and then drops suddenly back- ward on the grass and rolls about with shrieks of laughter.) Oh, you thought her one of those dancers in the glade — one of those splay footed — clumsy — heavy imitations. Oh, I shall die of laughter. You thought her one of those creatures who hopped about before people. Oh! OH! (He sits up suddenly still shaking with mirth, and points a finger at Clare.) Oh, if she should hear it! She would strangle you in a tree crotch, or bury you alive in running water. (He bowls over again with laughter.) Clare I don't see anything so funny. WTiat is she then? A prima-donna? 76 PAN PIPES The Faun (Sitting up on his haunches) She is Cloris the nymph and her home is the birch tree. And I — (He stands up and stretches to his full height.) I am Glaucos the Faun. (He is a splendid brown creature with shaggy legs and a vivid beautiful face. He wears a vine wreath in his rough dark curls and a pans pipe slung over his bare shoul- ders. ) Clare (Retreating a step) Oh — you look like — Pan. The Faun Don't speak sacrilege — Syrinx — I am only a faun. Clare Who — who are you ? The Faun I have told you. The Faun, Glaucos. The dweller in the hazel thickets. Clare You — you frighten me somehow. (She smiles un- certainly.) But I suppose it's only your funny way. (She glances at the sleeping Harry to reassure her- self.) Every one must have his fun. The Faun Yes! Every one must have his fun. So I came out to-day. Oh, and it has been fun! Those dances PAN PIPES 77 in the glade by those fat imitations ! I nearly split my sides. {He laughs.) Clare You're as bad as Harry. I thought they were very pretty. So graceful and soothing sort of. It's a pity there aren't any more nymphs and — and fauns really to dance. It would be nice. I'm kind of sorry there aren't any. The Faun {Creeping towards her) Oh, aren't there? Aren't there any? Who is it runs through the woods at night? You can hear the thud of their feet on the dead leaves. Who is it has just left the undergrowth all trembling as you enter it? Who laughs in your ear when you are alone on the hills? Who watches from behind tree trunks, and splashes just a little way up the brook? Who stole those who went into the woods and never came out? What was it you saw running in the fields at twilight? {His face is thrust close into hers.) Clare {Recoiling) Oh, don't! I'm afraid. Oh! It is silly of me to be frightened at things that aren't real. Isn't it? The Faun I am here. The faun. I am strong as wind and hot as fire. Touch me. {He advances as she steps back from him.) It is I who hurl the branches down from the living trees in the storm. I am so strong I 78 PAN PIPES can throttle the wood beasts with one hand — while I laugh. Clare Horrible! The Faun Beautiful! Have you never run through the night with the stars swimming all about you — or plunged in an ice black pool to come up ringed with silver — Clare I am dreaming. Like Harry, I am dreaming. The Faun {Standing above the prostrate and gently breathing Harry) Like Harry! (He throws back his head and laughs. He leans towards her.) Yes, dreaming per- haps. But differently. In your eyes is the flicker of shadows in the wood brook. Your head when it turns is the toss of the aspen. Your dreams are real to you — and I am in them — not this pig. (He stirs Harry ivith his foot. Harry turns over on his back with a gentle sigh. His mouth is open.) Clare (Rushing to the rescue) He is my man. Mine. My fiance, and he loves me. And I do him. Go away whoever you are or I'll wake him now. PAN PIPES 79 The Faun {Crouching, his face working) Which is more real to you — this snoring creature, far enough away from you now in his sodden sleep, and a future with him that you know no more of, in some noisy, dirty slatternly city where you will become one with the greasy ugly humans about — where you will lose all semblance of the loveliness you have now and be some one you cannot even picture. Which is the more real to you — that — or the whisper in your ear that the hills are free to you — take them — take them — and the shimmer before your eyes that some- thing waits for you just over their crests? Syrinx — Syrinx — (His voice grows soft — a melting whis- per.) Do not wake. Clare What are you? The Faun (Coming towards her) I am the magic in life. Believe in me. Clare I almost do. The Faun (Standing passive) I am waiting — Syrinx. Clare (In a burst) Show me something to prove you are real. Show me! 80 PAN PIPES The Faun (With a little smile) Once you have touched me — willingly. Once I hold you in my arms — willing — You are one of us. You will know it. Clare (Approaching him — trembling) How — how will I know it? The Faun You will be as air — and sunlight — transparent to human eyes. But you will be as free as they — as immortal. You will be young forever. Come. But you must be willing. (His voice caresses.) Surely to touch — surely to be free cannot hurt you ? Clare I should — I should love to be young forever. (She touches his arm. She reaches up timidly towards his shoulder. He seizes her suddenly and kisses her. Then, still holding her, he throws back his head and laughs loud and long. Clare struggles and frees herself with a jerk.) Clare Oh, I am frightened. I am. It's horrible. Go away. Harry! Harry! (The Faun continues to laugh, holding its sides. ) (Harry sits up with a jerk. He looks about him wildly.) PAN PIPES 81 Harry (In a voice still thick with sleep) That you? Clare? Are you calling me? Clare! Clare Here I am. Here I am. Oh hold me, Harry. I'm frightened. Harry (Jumping to his feet, fully awake) Clare! (He glares wildly about.) Clare Here! Here! Before you. Don't you see me! Harry (Lurching out towards her, and past her) Where are you? Are you hiding, Clare? Is it a trick? I can hear your voice — just faintly. I'll catch you yet. You wait. (He looks up the tree, then around it.) Clare Harry! Look at me! Look at me! Harry (Peering into the branches of tie tree) That's what I'm trying to do. Oh, come on down, Clare — the joke's over. Where are you anyway? The Faun (With a sidelong leap, circling the tree, and peering out from behind the trunk) Anywhere — everywhere — in the shadow — in the 82 PAN PIPES sun, as long as the sun and shadow play. {He grim- aces, and blows in Harry's face.) Harry Bother the wind. Clare — where are you ? Clare ! Don't tease me like this. I never would 'a wanted to hurt your feelings, Clare! Clare {Sobbing) Give him back to me! Let him see me! Take away this awful thing. {She grovels in the grass be- fore the faun.) I feel something burning me. Take it away. The Faun {Prancing just before her, pointing at her with out- stretched arm) You gave willingly — and it is given forever. Laugh. And it will burn away all your memories. Clare No. No. Help me. Help me. Harry {Leaning up against the tree trunk, looking about) What's that? I'm coming. {He starts away.) Clare {Gasping) No! I'm here. Here with you. PAN PIPES 83 Harry {Returning — worried) Then where are you? The Faun {Coming near her, still pointing) I will come for another kiss — and then — you will be all with us. You will be an aspen tree, and your bright hair will shake in the breeze with its leaves. But when I call, you will break out of the bark, and run until I capture you again. {He throws back his head and suddenly capers off in a great circle, about them.) Clare I am here, Harry. Here at your feet. Only you can't see me. {She gulps.) I — I am bewitched I think. You never will see me any more. I — I will be an aspen tree! {She collapses on the grass.) Harry What's that? I can't hear you. Clare The faun — he came out of the wood — and — and Harry, he kissed me. I let him. Forgive me. For- give me. Harry {To himself) I don't hear anything any more. The Faun {Approaching) It's beautiful to be free — Syrinx. As soon as you 84 PAN PIPES laugh you will forget — and I will come for you. {He prances before Harry.) She has gone into the wood, man. Go after her. It is a pretty place, the wood, with green thickets that might hide anything. Come along. I'll show you. {He dances ahead.) Clare {Rising) No! No! No! The Faun Look at him. He doesn't hear you. He is only a lump, and you are immortal with the sunlight now. He will never hold you again. You are for me, Syrinx. I will come back for you — alone. Clare I hate you. You are horrible. You have no heart! Let me go back ! The Faun {Dancing and pointing his finger at her) Never. The immortals have no heart, and no mem- ory. Laugh and you will be an immortal. Laugh. Laugh. Clare {Sobbing) Never to remember anything! Never to be human again ! The Faun When I return I will make you laugh. {He dances PAN PIPES 85 off and circles Harry.) Come seek your love in the thicket, man — and I will scratch you nicely. (He laughs and plunges into the wood, Harry after him.) Clare (She falls face down on the old stone under the oak tree) Give me back my life! Give me back my life! (The Faun and Harry are heard crashing in the underbrush. There comes the faint sound of pipes, then laughter. Then silence.) Clare (Sobbing on the stone) Whoever you are — God of the woods, you are cruel, cruel! (There is a breath of silence, and then a voice speaks from the oak.) Voice Who drinks the water on my altar? Clare (Starting up. Her hand is in the little pool on top of the stone and she shakes back her head, some drops of its water flying from her hair.) What is that! Voice Who drinks from the stone that has been the drink- ing cup of Pan? Clare I — I do. (She puts her hand dazedly to her mouth, and back again to the little pool.) 86 PAN PIPES Voice Wish then. Pan tasted it this morning. Wish. Would you have no fear? Would you be of those who never die? Wish once. It is granted. Clare What — what do you mean? Voice The stone is my altar. It is long since mortal has tasted the water fallen there. But Pan still lives. While there is wind and sun Pan lives. t Clare It — it was true then. This was a magic stone. (She touches it bewilderedly.) Voice I drank from it at dawn. The water that has touched the lips of Pan is breath of life to a mortal. Are you afraid? Clare No — somehow I am not afraid any longer. Voice Wish then. Once. Clare (Pushing back her hair) I — I seem all bewildered. I have forgotten things. It's — so misty about — and hot. PAN PIPES 87 Voice Wish to live forever in the gold of the hills. Wish to fly along the crest of the wind, to learn the secrets of the river, to sing with the leaves in the wood. Wish. (There is a sudden crackling in the bushes. Harry emerges, disheveled and panting ) Harry I don't believe it. I don't believe that you've left me. I wouldn't have done this to you, Clare. I wouldn't. Won't you tell me where you are? Clare! Clare! It's all some dreadful nightmare. (He plunges over towards the tree.) Clare! Tell me. I'm done up. I am. I feel you're all about, and yet you're hid. It's horrible. (He sits down under the tree.) Oh, Clare, what have I done to you? Have you got up and left me for good? You're not in the wood or anywhere! (He pulls himself together and stretches himself out, his folded arms over his face.) She'll come back. She must. I'll wait here for her. I'll do it if I die for it. Clare Harry! (He does not move.) Clare Harry! Harry I never meant to do anything wrong. 88 PAN PIPES Clare Oh, I can't hurt you this way. It is horrible. Oh, why can't you see me? Why can't you hear me? You must! It is all a dream. Oh, I wish it were. I wish it were a dream. I do! (She leans back suddenly on the old stone. A change comes over her face. She sinks down, sleepily. Harry stirs, turns over lazily, and rises on one elbow.) Harry {With a yawn, stretching his arms) Ah-hum. (He sits up.) You still here, Clare? I had a rummy dream. Clare (Rising from the stone, a little unsteadily) I — I think I've been asleep too. I must have been — with some sort of queer dream. I don't remember just what. My foot's asleep. (She stamps it.) Harry (Rising, and picking up his coat) I dreamt something was chasin' me. I couldn't seem to get away from it. We went around in circles and the funny part of it was you was mixed up in it somehow. Well, I guess that's a sign we'd better chase along. Picnic must be most over. (He rubs his head.) Queer. I dreamt I was chasin' you, too. And you wasn't at the picnic or nowhere. Just laughed at me. It was hot, too. PAN PIPES 89 Clare It is hot. I — I don't think somehow it's as nice here as when we first came. I don't guess I like the country much after all. (She looks about.) It's sort of queer and still — and prickly. Harry (Genially, putting his hat on at an angle) What did I tell you? What about a good little spin down the asphalt together and something ice cold after a movie to-night when we get to town. Eh? Clare (With a sigh) That sounds mighty good to me. (He takes her arm. They move off slowly.) Harry (Shaking out his coat, and readjusting it over his arm) I tell you what. Picnics is picnics and the coun- try's the country, even with free bare foot dancin' thrown in — but somehow it ain't exactly comfortable if you ain't bred up on it. Now is it? (They walk off behind the hill.) The piping is heard again from the thicket. The Nymph suddenly appears from the other side. She dashes into the open, her hair flying out in the wind. The Faun leaps after her They circle the open space running madly and then plunge into the wood. go PAN PIPES FOR OUTDOOR PRODUCTION OF PAN-PIPES Any woodland glade will do very prettily for the play instead of the scene in the meadow given. It is nice to have some undergrowth through which the Faun can crash, and a little vista where the Nymph runs off through the woods. The Voice of Pan, of course comes from a person seated behind the big tree that is essential for a center — (This person can also very easily act as prompter.) FOR INDOOR PRODUCTION OF PAN-PIPES At the back, a misty green gauze drop with slim high trunks of trees cut out in flat soft gray silhouettes against it. On the sides huge dark trees, their branches meeting overhead. All the trees can be made flat colored, and silhouetted to the audience. The ef- fect is very eerie and striking. In the center, the high, dark gnarled oak with the rough stone altar beneath. The light is the flickering green and gold of sunlight in the woods. It is better not to try to make the scenery of this play realistic or elaborate. It is an elfin play, and much depends on the suggestion of the uncanny. PAN PIPES NOTES ON COSTUMES AND SCENERY FOR AMATEURS COSTUMES Harry wears any sort of suit that is obviously ready made, and a shirt and tie of the vivid variety pleasing to his class. He must be dressed in quite bad taste without being too vulger or exaggerated, just as his acting must be slangy and plebeian and yet hold our sympathy. Clare wears a simple dress and sweater, preferably green, with small hat to match. She should avoid any- thing too loud or patterned. The Faun has an animal skin slung over his bare shoulders, forming the tunic of his costume. This can be any color deer or leopard skin, but shaggy skins are to be avoided as they make him look like an early cave dweller rather than a Faun. A Pan's Pipes can be easily made of graduated reeds bound together with cord, or if this proves difficult just two long reeds with holes in them. Of course they do not need to be practical. He wears this slung over his shoulders also. He can have trunks of dark green or brown — ■ or mottled of the two, which is better. His legs and arms and face must be stained just the right deep reddish brown — yet not too dark, and he wears a rough twist of green vine in his hair. He can have bare feet or brown leather sandals. If desired these can be laced high up the leg, but they must be dark and inconspicuous. The chief point is to make him seem a wild woodland creature, half animal, half man, melting into the light and shadows of the wood as if he were really part of it. The Nymph is far prettier if she is not too con- ventionally costumed. Tatters, of brown and green chiffon, make a very pretty shift, worn over a basis of unobtrusive green or brown. The less she wears the better, and her legs and arms are stained brown also. Her hair must be flying in a tangle, with a twisted vine in it. SCENERY The chief point of the outdoor scene is to have it wild enough. There must be no hint of civilization in the background or a great deal of the effect is lost. However, if this background is hard to find, a hillside does very well, seating the audience, contrary to custom, at the bottom, and having the actors on the hill, so that all the audience sees for scenery is the side of the hill against the sky. Noises of any sort, such as a nearby trolley, motors, etc., greatly mar this play, for the chief effect is its eerieness. A great effort must be made to find a quiet spot. With indoor scenery, as has been stated in the note at the end of the play, realism is more or less a mistake. If really effective and unusual woodland scenery cannot be made, it is better to have absolute simplicity. The imagination of the audience can do far better than the average paper set that serves for every play. Just a blue cyclorama, well lighted, and the silhouette of a great tree, and the dark stone, both cut from card- board and showing black against the sky, is an easy set and one that is most effective. This play has been given simply before a curtain. Its virtue is really in the tenseness of the acting and the spirit of it, and any scenery not in perfect accord will only mar it. The sound of "Pan's Pipes" can be very delightfully imitated on an occarina — or old-fashioned sweet potato instrument. Queer little minor phrases should be used, with long drawn-out soft notes, and then little minor runs. No particular tune should be used but improvisations to suit the acting. The player can be seated behind the tree or hidden in the background. The first phrases of Debussy's "Little Shepherd" are a good model for the music. THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 8 females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," "Jack,' her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England ancient maid of all work; "Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired man, etc. "Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever produced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of "The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- tumes modern. Plays 2% hours. Mr. Smith chose for 5 his initial comedy the complications arising from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated names— a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of the writer. This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. MRS. TEMPLES TELEGRAM. A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2]/ 2 hours. "Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!" There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtainl rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Centsj THE NEW CO-ED. A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and Sunshine," etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number of boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior and one exterior scene, but 'can be easily played in one interior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the college, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle, but the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and George Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can Strongly recommend "The New Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) SAMUEL FPENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DOROTHY'S NEIGHBC 018 360 596 3 A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "The New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," and many other successful plays. 4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to arrange; two plain interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if necessary, the two interiors will answer. Costumes modern. Plays V/z hours. The story is about vocational trainiag, a subject now widely discussed; also, the distribution of large wealth. Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and i sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experi- enced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school production. Price, 30 Cents. MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of "The Touch- down," etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes mod- ern. Plays 2ji hours. This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual character types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treat- ment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-million- aire's young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who had been in her father's employ and had stolen a large sum of money. She almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this point she meets some old friends who are living in almost want and, in order to assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristo- cratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with the family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assisting the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best come- dies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. The dialogue is brieht and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome story will please the parents and teachers, We strongly recommend it. Price, 30 Cents PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female char- acters. This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult while thoroughly pleasing. Price, 30 Cents, (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request \ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 360 596 3