HIE FLYING STAC r LAYS NO. S TV/o f)ll(ND MCCAPS ItSS I3LIND tC-MONT/\nEMS INCV/YORI t THE FLYING STAG PLAYS For The Little Theatre No. 5 TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND ONE LESS BLIND Copyright, 1918, by EGMONT H. ARENS All rights reserved The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to the Washington Square Players, New York. While it is hoped that the publication of the plays in this series will encourage their produc- tion in all parts of the country, it is held that the interests of the New Theatre movement can best be served by vigorous protection of the playwrights, without whom the movement cannot go forward. Therefore, any infringements of the author's rights will be punished by the penalties im- posed under the United States Revised Sta- tutes, Title 60, Chapter 3. The Publisher. TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND ONE LESS BLIND A Tragic Comedy in One Act by Philip Moeller ^ ^ as played by the Washington Square Players Published by EGMONT ARENS at the Washington Square Bookshop New York 1918 TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND ONE LESS BLIND was first produced by the Washington Square Players, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York, 1915, with the following cast: Gregory, an old blind beggar George, another blind beggar A Third Beggar, less blind A Little Girl - - - - Edivard Goodman Ralph Roeder Walter H. Frankl Florence Enright m 24 1918 e)aD 4 9843 TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND ONE LESS BLIND The Scene is a rag-pickers' cellar. Five feet abo've the back of the stage is the le^vel of the side- walk, 'Where the feet of the people passing can he seen and from ivhich a broken stair leads doivn. The scene is dimly lit by the light from the street. In a corner is an old stove luith a feiu coals turning to ashes. On a box is an oil lamp. Gregory and George are sorting rags. GEORGE Did you hear them? GREGORY I've heard nothing but your beery breath com- ing and going when you lean towards me. GEORGE Nothin' else? 6 TWO BLIND BEGGARS GREGORY What else? GEORGE The happy feet of the people going home from the factory. GREGORY I've heard your breath, I tell you, and the scrape of your dirty hands in the rags. GEORGE Dirty, you say? GREGORY You've brought a new stench into the cellar. It's too bad that you've come with your rack- ety smut to filthy the end of my days. If you must spill your noise whisper it low in your brain. Your talk's too much and your truth's too little. GEORGE Ah don't be hard on me. When I'm as old as you, I'll be happy to welcome a fridnd. GREGORY A friend, you say. That's a slippery word. How long is it we've been here together in the damp? GEORGE I've lost count of it. GREGORY Is it mor'n a week or less'n a week? PHILIP MOELLER ^ GEORGE It's longer than that. But it's hard knowing with only your ears to tell you the time by the feet of the people passing. GREGORY Is it two weeks? GEORGE It's mor'n that, for it's every month that they stand in the gutter banging their drums and praising the Lord. GREGORY So it's mor'n a month that you've sat there batting my ears with your bawl, and you say you're my friend. GEORGE [IF /lining.] Well, ain't I? Didn't I tell you how it was w hen I saw GREGORY It was an endless hurt to hear your boasting. GEORGE Didn't I tell you about the tree with the moon in its twigs and under the branches the huddled people moaning with love in the dark? GREGORY I can forgive you for tellin' me that. It's the sort of thing the blind can see. What's the moon like? GEORGE Like the looks of a silver dollar spinnin' round. 8 TWO BLIND BEGGARS GREGORY I've heard people tell of such things. [They go on quietly ^working. There is a sound of voices passing the door.] GEORGE It's evening — they're going home — their feet are quicker. GREGORY Be still now. I've had enough of your talk. GEORGE You used to like to hear about the houses . . . GREGORY Be still, I tell you! GEORGE Of the churches, with the spires like icicles a mile high hanging upside down. GREGORY [Throwing a handful of rags at George.] Here, stuff these rags in your head I [They go on