King Arthurs Socks and Other Village Plays | Page 3

on the floor by the table. She picks one of them up, and
kisses it passionately, whispering_)--Joseph!
_Enter Potiphar. Madam Potiphar puts the sandal behind her back_.
POTIPHAR. (_a dull, dignified gentleman_) Oh, here's where you are!
I was looking everywhere for you. But where's your cousin?
MADAM POTIPHAR. She will be back in a moment. I brought her
here to show her the educated slave of whom you are so proud, at work.
But he is away somewhere, as usual.
POTIPHAR. (_defensively_) He has other duties.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Oh, yes, no doubt!
POTIPHAR. What's the matter now?
MADAM POTIPHAR. Nothing new. You know what I think about this
Joseph of yours.
POTIPHAR. (_irritated_) Now, if you are going to bring that subject up
again--! Well, I tell you flatly, I won't do it.
MADAM POTIPHAR. You'd better take my advice!
POTIPHAR. It's the most unreasonable thing I ever heard of! For the

first time in my life I get an efficient secretary--and you want me to get
rid of him. It's ridiculous. What have you against Joseph, anyway?
MADAM POTIPHAR. I--I don't think he's honest.
POTIPHAR. Honest! Who expects the secretary of a government
official to be honest? I don't want an honest man in charge of my
affairs--all I want is a capable one. Besides, how would I know whether
he is honest or not? I can't bother to go over his accounts, and I couldn't
understand them if I did. Mathematics, my dear, is not an art that
high-class Egyptians excel in. It takes slaves and Hebrews for that.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, just because he is able to add up a row of
figures is no reason why he should be so high-handed with everybody.
One would think he was the master here, instead of a slave.
POTIPHAR. A private secretary, my dear, is different from an ordinary
slave. You mustn't expect him to behave like a doorkeeper. I remember
now, he complained that you kept wanting him to run errands for you.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Yes, and he refused--in the most insolent
manner. He is a proud and scheming man, I tell you. I am sure he is
plotting some villainy against you.
POTIPHAR. (_wearily_) Yes, you have said that before.
MADAM POTIPHAR. I say it again. Joseph is a scoundrel.
POTIPHAR. You'll have to do more than say it, my dear. What proof
have you of his villainy?
MADAM POTIPHAR. I think you might trust to my womanly
intuition.
POTIPHAR. Bah! Joseph is going to stay! Do you understand?
_He pounds on the table for emphasis. Madam Potiphar takes
advantage of the occasion to drop the sandal unnoticed_.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, you needn't create a domestic scene.
Asenath may return at any moment.
POTIPHAR. (_gloomily_) I believe I'm to take her out in the chariot.
MADAM POTIPHAR. You don't begrudge my guest that much of your
attention, do you? You know I cannot bear to ride behind those wild
horses of yours. And she said she wanted to see the city.
POTIPHAR. Oh--I'll go. But I must see to my chariot. (_He claps his
hands. A servant appears, and bows deeply_.) Send Joseph here at
once.
_With another deep bow, the slave disappears. A pause_.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Now you know what it is to have your slave off
attending to some business of his own when you want him.
POTIPHAR. (_annoyed_) Where can he be?
Enter Joseph.
JOSEPH. (_ignoring Madam Potiphar, and making a slight bow to
Potiphar_) Here I am, sir.
POTIPHAR. (_after a triumphant glance at his wife_) Have my chariot
made ready for me, will you?
JOSEPH. It will give me great pleasure to do so, sir.
_He bows slightly, and goes out_.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Did you notice his insolence?
POTIPHAR. There you go again! He said he was glad to do it for me.
What more do you want?
MADAM POTIPHAR. You are the stupidest man in Egypt.

POTIPHAR. Thank you, my dear.
Joseph returns.
POTIPHAR. Is the chariot ready so soon, Joseph?
JOSEPH. The chariot is quite ready.
POTIPHAR. Very well. (_A pause_) And are those accounts finished
yet, Joseph?
JOSEPH. The accounts are quite finished. And I would like to suggest,
if I may--
_He is interrupted by the re-entrance of Asenath_.
ASENATH. What a lovely garden you have!
MADAM POTIPHAR. (_significantly_) Yes!
ASENATH. The pomegranate blossoms are so beautiful!
MADAM POTIPHAR. You could hardly tear yourself away, could
you?
POTIPHAR. (_with a patient smile_) And are you ready for your
chariot ride now?
ASENATH. Oh, yes! I am so eager to see the city! But I fear my hair
needs a touch or two, first. . . .
MADAM POTIPHAR. It is so hard to keep one's hair in order when
one walks in the garden. I will take you to my