First Plays | Page 6

Ha-hum! Well--in the first place, when a man is dead he wants his money no longer. You can therefore be certain that you are not taking anything from him which he cannot spare. And in the neat place, it is the man's dying wish that you should have the money. To refuse would be to refuse the dead. To accept becomes almost a sacred duty.
RICHARD. It really comes to this, doesn't it? You won't take it from him when he's alive, because if you did, you couldn't decently refuse him a little gratitude; but you know that it doesn't matter a damn to him what happens to his money after he's dead, and therefore you can take it without feeling any gratitude at all.
CRAWSHAW. No, I shouldn't put it like that.
RICHARD (smiling). I'm sure you wouldn't, Robert.
CRAWSHAW No doubt you can twist it about so that--
RICHARD. All right, we'll leave that and go on to the next point. Suppose a perfect stranger offered you five pounds to part your hair down the middle, shave off your moustache, and wear only one whisker--if he met you suddenly in the street, seemed to dislike your appearance, took out a fiver and begged you to hurry off and alter yourself--of course you'd pocket the money and go straight to your barber's?
CRAWSHAW. Now you are merely being offensive.
RICHARD. I beg your pardon. I should have said that if he had left you five pounds in his will?--well, then twenty pounds? a hundred pounds?--a thousand pounds?--fifty thousand pounds?--(Jumping up excitedly) It's only a question of price--fifty thousand pounds, Robert--a pink tie with purple spots, hair across the back, trousers with a patch in the fall myself Wurzel-Flummery--any old thing you like, you can't insult me--anything you like, gentlemen, for fifty thousand pounds. (Lowering his voice) Only you must leave it in your will, and then I can feel that it is a sacred duty--a sacred duty, my lords and gentlemen. (He sinks back into the sofa and relights his pipe.)
CRAWSHAW. (rising with dignity). It is evidently useless to prolong this conversation.
RICHARD (waving him dorm again). No, no, Robert; I've finished. I just took the other side--and I got carried away. I ought to have been at the Bar.
CRAWSHAW. You take such extraordinary views of things. You must look facts in the face, Richard. This is a modern world, and we are modern people living in it. Take the matter-of-fact view. You may like or dislike the name of--ah--Wurzel-Flummery, but you can't get away from the fact that fifty thousand pounds is not to be sneezed at.
RICHARD (wistfully). I don't know why people shouldn't sneeze at money sometimes. I should like to start a society for sneezing at fifty thousand pounds. We'd have to begin in a small way, of course; we'd begin by sneezing at five pounds--and work up. The trouble is that we're all inoculated in our cradles against that kind of cold.
CRAWSHAW (pleasantly). You will have your little joke. But you know as well as I do that it is only a joke. There can be no serious reason why I should not take this money. And I--ah--gather that you don't think it will affect my career?
RICHARD (carelessly). Not a bit. It'll help it. It'll get you into all the comic papers.
[MARGARET comes in at this moment, to the relief of CRAWSHAW, who is not quite certain if he is being flattered or insulted again.]
MARGARET. Well, have you told him?
RICHARD (making way for her on the sofa). I have heard the news, Mrs. Crawshaw. And I have told Robert my opinion that he should have no difficulty in making the name of Wurzel-Flummery as famous as he has already made that of Crawshaw. At any rate I hope he will.
MARGARET. How nice of you! CRAWSHAW. Well, it's settled, then. (Looking at his watch) This solicitor fellow should be here soon. Perhaps, after all, we can manage something about--Ah, Viola, did you want your mother?
[Enter VIOLA.]
VIOLA. Sorry, do I interrupt a family meeting? There's Richard, so it can't be very serious.
RICHARD. What a reputation!
CRAWSHAW. Well, it's over now.
MARGARET. Viola had better know, hadn't she?
CRAWSHAW. She'll have to know some time, of course.
VIOLA (sitting done firmly on the sofa). Of course she will. So you'd better tell her now. I knew there was something exciting going on this morning.
CRAWSHAW (embarrassed). Hum--ha--(To MARGARET) Perhaps you'd better tell her, dear.
MARGARET (simply and naturally). Father has come into some property, Viola. It means changing our name unfortunately. But your father doesn't think it will matter.
VIOLA. How thrilling! What is the name, mother?
MARGARET. Your father says it is--dear me, I shall never remember it.
CRAWSHAW (mumbling). Wurzel-Flummery.
VIOLA (after a pause). Dick, you tell me, if nobody else will.
RICHARD. Robert said it just now.
VIOLA. That wasn't a name, was it? I