I've
been too kind. Spare the rod and spoil the fun. Oh, for the glands of
a Bismarck.
(_There is a honking outside--probably _DIVINE'S_ chauffeur
growing impatient for his master._)
MR. ICKY: (_In misery_) They do not love the soil! They have been
faithless to the Great Potato Tradition! (_He picks up a handful of
soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head. Hair sprouts._) Oh,
Wordsworth, Wordsworth, how true you spoke!
_"No motion has she now, no force;
She does not hear or feel;
Roll'd round on earth's diurnal course
In some one's Oldsmobile."_
(_They all groan and shouting "Life" and "Jazz" move slowly toward
the wings._)
CHARLES: Back to the soil, yes! I've been trying to turn my back to
the soil for ten years!
ANOTHER CHILD: The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who
wants to be a backbone?
ANOTHER CHILD: I care not who hoes the lettuce of my country if I can
eat the salad!
ALL: Life! Psychic Research! Jazz!
MR. ICKY: (_Struggling with himself_) I must be quaint. That's
all there is. It's not life that counts, it's the quaintness you bring
to it....
ALL: We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for
Piccadilly Circus. Life! Jazz!
MR. ICKY: Wait. Let me read to you from the Bible. Let me open it at
random. One always finds something that bears on the situation.
(_He finds a Bible lying in one of the dods and opening it at random
begins to read.
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