Роберт Льюис Стивенсон - The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson стр 4.

Brodie. Gad! thats worth knowing. O Procurator, Procurator, is there no such thing as virtue? [Allons! Its enough to cure a man of vice for this world and the other.] But hark you hither, Smith; this is all damned well in its way, but it dont explain what brings you here.

Smith. Ive trapped a pigeon for you.

Brodie. Cant you pluck him yourself?

Smith. Not me. Hes too flash in the feather for a simple nobleman like George Lord Smith. Its the great Capting Starlight, fresh in from York. [Hes exercised his noble art all the way from here to London. Stand and deliver, stap my vitals!] And the north road is no bad lay, Deakin.

Brodie. Flush?

Smith (mimicking). The graziers, split me! A mail, stap my vitals! and seven demned farmers, by the Lard

Brodie. By Gad!

Smith. Good for trade, aint it? And we thought, Deakin, the Badger and me, that coins being ever on the vanish, and you not over sweet on them there lovely little locks at Leslies, and them there bigger and uglier marine stores at the Excise Office.

Brodie (impassible). Go on.

Smith. Worse luck!.. We thought, me and the Badger, you know, that maybe youd like to exercise your helbow with our free and galliant horseman.

Brodie. The old move, I presume? the double set of dice?

Smith. Thats the rig, Deakin. What you drop on the square you pick up again on the cross. [Just as you did with G. S. and Co.s own agent and correspondent, the Admiral from Nantz.] You always was a neat hand with the bones, Deakin.

Brodie. The usual terms, I suppose?

Smith. The old discount, Deakin. Ten in the pound for you, and the rest for your jolly companions every one. [Thats the way we does it!]

Brodie. Who has the dice?

Smith. Our mutual friend, the Candleworm.

Brodie. You mean Ainslie?  We trust that creature too much, Geordie.

Smith. Hes all right, Marquis. He wouldnt lay a finger on his own mother. Why, hes no more guile in him than a set of sheeps trotters.

[Brodie. You think so? Then see he dont cheat you over the dice, and give you light for loaded. See to that, George, see to that; and you may count the Captain as bare as his last grazier.

Smith. The Black Flag for ever! Georgell trot him round to Mother Clarkes in two twos.] How longll you be?

Brodie. The time to lock up and go to bed, and Ill be with you. Can you find your way out?

Smith. Bloom on, my Sweet William, in peaceful array. Ta-ta.

Mary. O Willie, I am glad you did not go with them. I have something to tell you. If you knew how happy I am, you would clap your hands, Will. But come, sit you down there, and be my good big brother, and I will kneel here and take your hand. We must keep close to dad, and then he will feel happiness in the air. The poor old love, if we could only tell him! But I sometimes think his heart has gone to heaven already, and takes a part in all our joys and sorrows; and it is only his poor body that remains here, helpless and ignorant. Come, Will, sit you down, and ask me questions or guess that will be better, guess.

Brodie. Not to-night, Mary; not to-night. I have other fish to fry, and they wont wait.

Mary. Not one minute for your sister? One little minute for your little sister?

Brodie. Minutes are precious, Mary. I have to work for all of us, and the clock is always busy. They are waiting for me even now. Help me with the dads chair. And then to bed, and dream happy things. And to-morrow morning I will hear your news your good news; it must be good, you look so proud and glad. But to-night it cannot be.

Mary. I hate your business I hate all business. To think of chairs, and tables, and foot-rules, all dead and wooden and cold pieces of money with the Kings ugly head on them; and here is your sister, your pretty sister, if you please, with something to tell, which she would not tell you for the world, and would give the world to have you guess, and you wont?  Not you! For business! Fie, Deacon Brodie! But Im too happy to find fault with you.

Brodie. And me a Deacon, as the Procurator would say.

Mary. No such thing, sir! I am not a bit afraid of you nor a bit angry neither. Give me a kiss, and promise me hours and hours to-morrow morning.

Brodie. All day long to-morrow, if you like.

Mary. Business or none?

Brodie. Business or none, little sister! Ill make time, I promise you; and theres another kiss for surety. Come along. (They proceed to push out the chair, L.C.) The wine and wisdom of this evening have given me one of my headaches, and Im in haste for bed. Youll be good, wont you, and see they make no noise, and let me sleep my fill to-morrow morning till I wake?

Mary. Poor Will! How selfish I must have seemed! You should have told me sooner, and I wouldnt have worried you. Come along.

(She goes out, pushing chair.)

Brodie. Now for one of the Deacons headaches! Rogues all, rogues all! (Goes to clothes-press, and proceeds to change his coat.) On with the new coat and into the new life! Down with the Deacon and up with the robber! (Changing neck-band and ruffles.) Eh God! how still the house is! Theres something in hypocrisy after all. If we were as good as we seem, what would the world be? [The city has its vizard on, and we at night we are our naked selves. Trysts are keeping, bottles cracking, knives are stripping; and here is Deacon Brodie flaming forth the man of men he is!] How still it is!.. My father and Mary Well! the day for them, the night for me; the grimy cynical night that makes all cats grey, and all honesties of one complexion. Shall a man not have half a life of his own?  not eight hours out of twenty-four? [Eight shall he have should he dare the pit of Tophet.] (Takes out money.) Wheres the blunt? I must be cool to-night, or.. steady, Deacon, you must win; damn you, you must! You must win back the dowry that youve stolen, and marry your sister, and pay your debts, and gull the world a little longer! (As he blows out the lights.) The Deacons going to bed the poor sick Deacon! Allons! (Throws up the window, and looks out.) Only the stars to see me! (Addressing the bed.) Lie there, Deacon! sleep and be well to-morrow. As for me, Im a man once more till morning. (Gets out of the window.)

TABLEAU II.

Hunt the Runner

The Scene represents the Procurators Office.

[Lawson (entering). Step your ways in, Officer. (At wing.) Mr. Carfrae, give a chair to yon decent wife that cam in wi me. Nae news?

A voice without. Naething, sir.

Lawson (sitting). Weel, Officer, and what can I do for you?]

Hunt. Well, sir, as I was saying, Ive an English warrant for the apprehension of one Jemmy Rivers, alias Captain Starlight, now at large within your jurisdiction.

Lawson. Thatll be the highwayman?

Hunt. That same, Mr. Procurator-Fiscal. The Captains given me a hard hunt of it this time. I dropped on his marks first at Huntingdon, but he was away North, and I had to up and after him. I heard of him all along the York road, for hes a light hand on the pad, has Jemmy, and leaves his mark. [I missed him at York by four-and-twenty hours, and lost him for as much more. Then I picked him up again at Carlisle, and we made a race of it for the Border; but hed a better nag, and was best up in the road; so I had to wait till I ran him to earth in Edinburgh here and could get a new warrant.] So here I am, sir. They told me you were an active sort of gentleman, and Im an active man myself. And Sir John Fielding, Mr. Procurator-Fiscal, hes an active gentleman, likewise, though hes blind as a himage, and he desired his compliments to you, [sir, and said that between us he thought wed do the trick].