B 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 1 : 
 
 1 ; 
 
 Oi 
 
 Armfield 
 Gilded Wreath
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 The 
 
 >REENLEAF=XHEATRE 
 
 The Gilded Wreath 
 
 BY 
 
 CONSTANCE S MEDLEY 
 
 SECOND EHITION
 
 G REEN LE A F THEATRE PLAYS 
 
 THE 
 
 Gilded Wreath 
 
 BY 
 
 CONSTANCE SMEDLEY 
 
 ONE SHILLING NET 
 
 From all Booksellers, and the Publishers, Duckworth 
 
 and Co., 3, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, 
 
 London, W.C 2. 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 1922
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 We are now about to present The Gilded 
 Wreath, an artless revelation of the world 
 behind the scenes, which we hope will not 
 prove too disillusioning to the innocent. There 
 is one person whose point of view of fame 
 has never been brought out : the individual 
 who appears each night on every concert plat- 
 form of distinction, and whose mission in life 
 is to open the piano for someone else to play. 
 Allow us to introduce him as he sits in his 
 modest little den at the end of the corridor 
 that leads to the artistes' room, and beyond 
 to the stage and the audience. To-night, let 
 him speak. What does he think of the 
 gilded wreath of fame?
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 i^t Lit dru il^i ^.' n: (i \^ — -Xt iifCt— ^£i^ 
 
 " For me this Golden whirligig " ? 
 
 1105711
 
 THE 
 
 Gilded Wreath 
 
 D a 
 a 
 
 A small white and grey anteroom, behind 
 the scenes of a famous concert hall. Four 
 coat hooks hang along the wall, and to t/w 
 left is a packing case from a fashionable 
 florist's. 
 
 On the left hand side a door gives on to 
 a passage beading to the stage. 
 A little old man, silvered and wrinkled, is 
 meditating on a small stiff cjiair, at tlie 
 right. He holds a little book. His baggy 
 dress-suit once belonged to a portly and 
 fashionable tenor, at a time when the last 
 word in dress-suits was bright deep blue. 
 His severe black stock however, redeems him 
 from tfie charge of flippancy. 
 
 THE PIANO ATTENDANT 
 {reading) 
 
 " Dost thou not see 
 The ant, the bee, 
 The birds that sing, 
 The herbs that spring, 
 Together work 
 And never shirk 
 
 3
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 Else would disperse 
 The Universe. 
 And wilt thou not 
 Perform thy lot? " 
 So says Mar-cus 
 Aurelius. 
 Do what I can, 
 As Piano Man I 
 
 He closes book, lays hands on it, folded, and 
 cocks his head to one side. 
 
 Mere opening and shutting, 
 And in its place putting 
 The music that's played. 
 Well, well, that's my trade! 
 
 He places the book in his inner pocket and 
 takes out a large old watch. 
 
 It teaches me 
 Philosophy. 
 
 He rises and proceeds to unpack the case. 
 
 No sweet bouquets 
 Bestrew my ways. 
 No loud Bray-vo 
 As off I go. 
 No shrill re-call, 
 Yet I serve all, 
 Appear each night. 
 And set things right. 
 
 As he bends over the packing case, prying 
 off the lid,.. 
 
 A Youthful Violinist enters carrying his violin 
 and bow, and advancing timidly, on tippy 
 toes.
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE YOUTHFUL VIOLINIST 
 
 Behind the scenes! 
 How much it means I 
 Dare I presume — 
 {begins to tune up.) 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 {straightening up, severely) 
 The artistes' room 
 Is just down there 
 And your place, sir. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 Please let me stay 
 
 Here till I play. 
 
 The artistes are 
 
 So la-di-da, 
 
 I feel a pup. 
 
 And daren't tune up. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 Keep quiet, sir 
 Or you'll incur 
 The grave distress 
 Of nervousness. 
 
 He takes an armful of bouquets out of the 
 packing case, and fluffs out the handsome 
 ribbons. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 How sweet a scent I 
 Ah, flowers 1
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 Meant 
 
 For the array 
 Of stars who'll play. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 They're sent up here? 
 Why that is queer ! 
 Orpheus moved trees, 
 And songs moved these 
 From ladies' laps, 
 Or hair perhaps, 
 It seemed to me. 
 But now I see 
 The Public sends 
 Flowers to its friends 
 Before the treat 
 Their ears doth greet. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 {leaving bouquets on case, and fetching chair 
 which he places under the first coat-hook.) 
 
 You are a verdant green. 
 
 The public sends no flowers 
 
 Unless a cue is seen 
 
 Waiting outside for hours 1 
 He waddles across to the case, and takes up 
 a bouquet of purple and magenta orchids. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 Yet sir, the hall is full. 
 Rows of fine ladies sit 
 And at their earrings pull, 
 Or titivate a bit. 
 6
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 Climbing the chair and hanging bouquet on 
 the coat-hook. 
 
 You innocent young man 
 Not one seat has been bought. 
 Those dames who sit and fan 
 As guests have here been brought. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 But placards are on view. 
 And tickets are for sale. 
 This is no private Do 
 The papers tell the tale. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 {confidentially , as he returns for the second 
 
 bouquet.) 
 
 A bluff is being called 1 
 These orchids strangely dyed 
 With gold around them sprawled, 
 Will no success decide. 
 
 {He mounts the chair again beneath second 
 
 coathook) 
 
 They've been procured to please 
 The artistes at great cost, 
 Who have had handsome Tees 
 To make up for the Frost. 
 
 The stars will all be set. 
 In constellation bright. 
 Round Lady Margaret, 
 The heroine of To-night I 
 
 7
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 {:puzzled) 
 
 Round Lady Margaret? 
 Is her voice then so rare, 
 That every public pet 
 Cannot with her compare? 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 {busily returning for third bouquet) 
 Her voice is as the sigh 
 Of gentle summer breeze. 
 If you could get close by, 
 Maybe it then would please. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 {following Attendant as he carries the bou- 
 quet to the third coathook) 
 
 But then, this hall enlarged. 
 
 This audience, in rows? 
 
 Although no price is charge'd. 
 
 To hear, they will suppose 1 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 {on chair) 
 
 Oh no, they won't, oh no. 
 
 They've only come to yawn, 
 And criticise and go 
 
 To sup with her till dawn. 
 
 Money can buy most things. 
 A claque in evening dress, 
 But this it never brings, 
 A gen-u-ine success. 
 
 8
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 If you've come here to play 
 Thinking you'll make a hit 
 You must not feel dismay 
 If they don't clap a bit. 
 
 He returns for the fourth bouquet. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 {crosses R.) 
 
 But sir, I do not play 
 For nothing but success, 
 I strive to shed a ray 
 Of joy, and folks to bless. 
 
 And with my fiddle make, 
 Celestial harmony. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 {pausing to survey him) 
 
 It does make my heart ache 
 Fellows like you to see. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 I studied very hard ; 
 Three weeks ago I met 
 In my dingy little yard 
 This Lady Margaret. 
 
 She was visiting a man 
 Who oft to prison goes, 
 I played, she heard, the plan 
 To bring me out, arose.
 
 THE GILDED W RE AT H 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 {trotting on again to the fourth coat hook and 
 
 hanging the bouquet thereon.) 
 
 Oh virginal young man 
 I'm sure her heart is true 1 
 I'm sure her pretty plan 
 Was to do good to you. 
 
 But her poor head is turned 
 
 By flattery alDsurd 
 
 Although so long she's learned 
 
 Her voice can NOT be heard ! 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 {crosses L.C.) 
 
 But sir, she should be told 
 If what you say is right. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 Ah, who will be so bold? 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 Why, I will speak to-night. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 Ha ha, he he, ho hoi 
 Excuse my laugh, but I — 
 Know how far one can go, 
 Amongst the great and high. 
 
 No friends the facts CAN tell, 
 No cr'tic speaks the truth, 
 All of them love too well 
 Her sweetness and her youth I
 
 THE GILDED W RE AT H 
 
 He sets the stiff chair back in its original 
 position . 
 
 Immense bouquets now decorate the coathcoks, 
 weird orchids looped with gold, w/iite roses 
 draped with silver tissue, pink and lilac 
 berries wound with silver, and a sheaf of 
 emerald lilies. 
 
 Both 7nen stand back, as Lady Margaret enters 
 hurriedly Left, the flurry of her entrance 
 sending her midzvay between them. She is 
 deliciously sli?n , young and angelic ; a theatre- 
 cchat of Persian blue is wrapped about her ; 
 her flaxen hair aureoles a limpid forehead 
 and eyes that are eternally wide open in 
 complete acceptance of a world of toys. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 Where is the piano man? 
 
 Oh, there he is. 
 
 We can 
 
 Commence our victories. 
 
 Open the piano lid. 
 
 Set music free. 
 
 And bid 
 
 The singers follow thee. 
 
 Then when applause doth fill 
 
 Each hungry ear 
 
 You will 
 
 With the bouquets appear I 
 The Piano Attendant trots off with shuffling 
 gait, bowing, and rubbing his hands.
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 Alas my youthful friend, 
 
 Forgive the wrong. 
 
 You end 
 
 A programme that's too long I 
 
 She kneels on the little stiff chair, one frail 
 liltie h-and on the back, gazing up at the 
 Violinist, fiti fully. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 Oh lady fair, pray do not deem 
 Me bold to speak on such a theme, 
 But 1 would hear, I must confess, 
 Why you are anxious for success? 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 {subsiding on to chair, and resting her chin 
 on her clasped hands, sweetly) 
 
 Certainly, sir. I can't endure 
 To be called " merely amature " 
 Or as professionals prefer 
 To put it, ' merely amateur.' 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 But amateurs all artists be. 
 Amat: he loves: his harmony. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 To love, alas, is not enough. 
 
 One has to practise, oh, such stuff. 
 
 She twists round in her chair, with a shiver. 
 
 12
 
 THE GILDED W RE AT H 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 But what we love, it doth not tease 
 To practise, but doth greatly please. 
 Run, scale, and trill fresh beauties 
 
 show 
 As up and down, the fresh notes go. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 Shivering and clasping her hands pathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 I beg you, do not mention trill. 
 
 The very word makes me feel ill. 
 
 The only thing that keeps me to it, 
 
 Is, How they'll clap when I get 
 through it ! 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 But if you don't like singing, why 
 Appear upon a platform high? 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 Rising with exquisite dignity 
 
 Because I have a goal, no less 
 Than to achieve a great success. 
 Then if I were WELLKNOWN. I 
 
 might 
 Bring unknown genius, to light. 
 A word from me, to make a name 1 
 Ah, that is better far than fame. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 But can success be given, like that? 
 
 13
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 Oh yes, I well know what I'm at. 
 1 he greatest genius can't dispense 
 With being helped by Influence. 
 When artists seek my helping hand. 
 I shall be kind, and — understand ! 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 Madam, I think it is your plan 
 To take the place of God to man. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 {struck with the idea, hands daintily up) 
 
 That would be nice. I'd love that. 
 
 Yes, 
 But first I must win my success. 
 {Sighs and droops again on to the chair, 
 with parted lips voicelessly muttering Mi, Mi, 
 Mi or the latest fashionable watchword) 
 Enter very rapidly, with small shuffling steps, 
 the ATTENDANT. He mutters to himself 
 as he runs to the first coathook and takes 
 down the bouquet, then hurries back and 
 out, rather like the White Rabbit in Alice in 
 Wonderland. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 The Public may want 
 The Bee and the Ant 
 But they certainly don't 
 The artists in front. 
 I fear no recall
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 Will be given at all 
 And these flowers, in that gloom 
 Will suggest but — the tomb I 
 He disappears, running. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 who has risen, all concern. 
 
 Oh quickly let me cheer them. 
 
 Poor Miss Hesperia Jones. 
 
 To triumph I will steer them. 
 
 A friendly word atones. 
 {Slie is taking cards and gilt pencil from a 
 shimmerv little bas) 
 {writing) 
 
 ' Your voice is like the — dewdrops I ' 
 She sticks card into second bouquet. 
 {^writing) 
 
 ' You do look such a dear ! 
 She puts card into third bouquet, looks at 
 name on fourth, and throws up hands in 
 fiorror. 
 
 Dismay! The line at you stops. 
 {To the Violinist) 
 
 No flowers for you are here. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 Au contraire I 
 
 I can spare 
 
 Flowers for you. 
 {He crosses R, facing the bouquets and as 
 he speaks, illustrates his meaning with a 
 fantastic obligato)
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 I can strew 
 All the room 
 With perfume. 
 {he panivmimes playmg) 
 
 Transport your thought 
 To bowers of flowers. 
 
 {His voice beco?nes richer, deeper) 
 
 Softly, and pizzicato. 
 
 Polyanthuses pink 
 Their little eyes wink. 
 The nodding narcissus, 
 Calls out, Come and kiss us 
 
 Swelling languorously 
 
 Those sillies, 
 
 Lent Lillies, 
 
 Swoon, sighing ! 
 
 Defying 
 Gaily, loud 
 
 The jocular 
 
 Auricula 
 
 That laughs beside 
 Pompously 
 
 THE London Pride. 
 Allegretto 
 
 Your heart I will fill, 
 Their sweets I'll distil 
 Into sparkle and shine 
 And dazzle divine 
 Till I've done 
 Making fun. 
 
 16
 
 THE GILDED V^ RE AT H 
 
 He turns to her, with a low bow, laughing. 
 She is now sitting on the 'packing-case, 
 her hands behind her, staring at him as at 
 a Magician. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 But who taught you to play 
 In that won-derful way? 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 There's a garden I know 
 Where the winds always blow. 
 It lies on the hills 
 And the flowers always move. 
 It's their rhythm that fills 
 My heart with such love. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 Sitting up very stiffly on the edge of packing- 
 case. 
 
 I have been taught my lungs to fill, 
 
 Until control-led at my will 
 
 Is head; and throat, and chest: each 
 
 part 
 That makes a note : but not my 
 
 heart ! 
 Tucked in 
 My chin. 
 
 {she attempts to place it) 
 
 17
 
 THE GILDED W RE AT H 
 
 Yet free 
 Must be I 
 To essay- 
 High A. 
 {after some effort, achieves a squeak) 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 But song comes with ease. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 {leaning back, exhausted and fanning herself 
 with a foolish little handkerchief) 
 No, no, a great task! 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 The birds, in the trees, 
 The wandering bees — 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 {sitting up again, with new vigor) 
 Give joy as we bask : 
 But for efforts like these — 
 {after more chinplacing, squeaks again) 
 
 Applause we must ask. 
 {Lies back, again exhausted) 
 
 The Attendant once more appears, running 
 even more rapidly ; his brow is furrowed, 
 his eyes see nothing but his objective, his 
 mouth works and mutters as he heads for 
 the second, third and fourth bouquets and 
 runs out with them.
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 Never did I see 
 The Ant, or the Bee 
 So hurried as I. 
 With trophies I fly 
 To present the artiste 
 Ere this clapping has ceased, 
 I must NOT get perplext. 
 Lady Margaret, NEXT! 
 {He disappears) 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 {Rising with a little shriek) 
 
 Oh dear, I shall die. 
 {She hurriedly divests herself of the Persian 
 blue coat, disclosing diaphanous and glitter- 
 ing fabrics) 
 
 So nervous am L 
 
 I shall never breathe right. 
 {Hastily powders her nose) 
 
 I am getting stage-fright. 
 Site re?nains with her powder puff agonisedly 
 applied, muttering Ali, mi, mi, and occasion- 
 ally feeling her pretty throat. As he speaks 
 following her, she flies with 'little rushes, 
 round the stage. 
 
 THE VIOLLNIST 
 
 My pretty dear, 
 Forget your fear. 
 Praise, rejoice, 
 Then your voice 
 
 19
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 Will flow free, 
 Easily. 
 
 Think of caves 
 Brimming full, 
 Liquid waves 
 Splashing cool. 
 Clouds that fleet 
 O'er the blue, 
 Dancing feet, 
 Me — and you. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 But my song is a strain 
 Of yearning and pain. 
 A love-song. You know! 
 For they always go. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 If you could love! That's all! 
 If you only couM fall 
 For the people in rows, 
 Every usher that goes 
 With the programmes — 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 Such folk ? 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 
 I'm not talking in joke. 
 I mean it. Love us! 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 How ri-di-cu-lous I 
 
 20
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 [She breathes deeply, in rhythm, for the 
 space of two lines.') 
 
 Of my voice I must think. 
 {She breathes again) 
 
 Oh I must have a drink. 
 
 What — What's that you said? 
 
 Love — love — oh, my head. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST 
 Fear makes your throat dry. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 And love makes me sing high 
 And my voice will improve. 
 Oh. Where's someone to love? 
 As she glances wildly to the door, the At- 
 tendant runs in, his hands clenched, his brow 
 dark, his lips muttering. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 The Bee and the Ant 
 Would most certainly pant 
 If they so had to run. 
 Not one clapped, not one! 
 The stage waits, Miss. 
 {He pauses C.) 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 {tearing flowers from her corsage) 
 Here I 
 These flowers I Take them, dear ! 
 
 21
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 {.She deposits them in the Attendant's be- 
 wildered Imnds) 
 
 And thanks from my heart 
 
 For the strength you'll impart. 
 
 Oh may these flowers prove 
 
 The wealth of my love 
 
 And move me to sing 
 
 Like — like anything ! 
 {She rushes off wildly, her music extended 
 in an agonised way before 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 What? Flowers for me? Flowers 
 for the Piano Man? 
 
 {He goes slowly, as if exhausted to the 
 chair) 
 
 Let me my oozing forehead gently 
 fan. 
 {He sits, the flowers in one hand, fanning 
 with the other.) 
 
 I thought that I should have to die 
 Before flowers came to such as J ! 
 Pushed here and there and every- 
 where, 
 Standing where there's an inch to 
 
 spare ! 
 For me? Why, am I part of, then 
 The show, like other gentlemen? 
 {He carefully arranges flowers in his coat) 
 Has she included me? Then I'll 
 
 make free 
 To include her in my philosophy.
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 With Ant, and Bee, and me, ?he 
 
 shall be placed 
 To benefit a world, she's only 
 
 graced. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 Each one a note, and equally 
 
 Of use in the world's symphony I ' 
 
 Let Lady Margaret once see, 
 
 Her muffled voice shall ring out free 
 
 A.S when you lift the pianolid— — 
 
 THE ATENDANT. 
 
 No shout sir in her throat is hid. 
 Not in a sudden flash will she be finding 
 
 The solemn truths that you and I 
 are minding 
 ife sighs deeply and sniffs the flowers ; then 
 sneezes daintily like a cat. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 With sudden rent, the temple's veil 
 
 was torn. 
 So may the gift of song in her be 
 
 born. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 I rather feel, though quiet word 
 The truth dawns that we are absurd. 
 The tinkle of drops 
 On granite rocks 
 Wears holes in time, 
 Like feet in socks, 
 
 23
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 {the Vwlimst paces in rhythm, to door L.) 
 As step by step 
 We onward go. 
 So doth the soul 
 Awaken: slow 1 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 Piano Man, pause. 
 What is it we hear? 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 iRoing to door L and listening"). 
 The hollow applause 
 That to her is dear. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 Does she call that success? 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 That she'll certainly do. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 It will cause her distress 
 If I don't applaud too. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 Oh she does need a friend ! 
 {listens: they pause for 8 beats) 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 Is she singing or not? 
 {listens: they pause for 8 beats)
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 It has come to an end 
 All the voice she has got. 
 She's here, sir. 
 {Backs from door) . 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 [clapping excitedly). 
 Bravo I 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 retreating to further side of stage. 
 
 It's correct for a star 
 
 To say Bravissimo. 
 
 It gives more eclat. 
 Lady Margaret enters flushed and radiant, 
 laden with baskets, bouquets and a bunch 
 of violets. Most prominent is an enormous 
 gilded wreath. She crosses R. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 I took my A 
 Just the right way. 
 It came so well, 
 That trophies fell. 
 They handed four 
 Up from the floor. 
 And this bunch — see — 
 {tenderly kissing the tiny bunch) 
 The gallery. 
 25
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 A little touch 
 Like that, does much. 
 Excuse me, sir 
 They're waiting there. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 {desperately) 
 
 My turn? Oh may 
 
 I when: I play, 
 
 Forget my grief 
 
 And find relief. 
 He goes out. 
 
 Lady Margaret takes vp her coat and gathers 
 it round her, luxuriously. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 {with complacent surprise) 
 
 My voice was quite strong! 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 {standing with one hand on the back of the 
 chair, as if having fiis pfioto graph taken). 
 
 No miss, there you're wrong. 
 
 The truth I shall speak. 
 
 It was wonderful weak. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 her cloak half about her, turns her back 
 on the audience to look at him. 
 But those trophies prove 
 26
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 How great is the love 
 Of your doting Papa. 
 From him they all are. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 Not this penny bunch. 
 No, somebody's lunch 
 Was bereft of a bun 
 Or some milk — 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 grave and immovable. 
 That someone 
 Was put there by me 
 V\ ith instructions to see 
 The bunch hit you plumb 
 When the encore should come. 
 
 She drops bunch, and draws her coat about 
 
 her. gazing at him in horror. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 But what of the claps 
 That burst from them? 
 
 THE ATTENDANT 
 
 P'raps 
 
 You did not remark 
 How behind in the dark 
 The program men stood. 
 They did not intrude 
 But regularly 
 
 One, two, three, cne two three. 
 {Claps ?nethodically) . 
 
 27
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 But my audience caf?ie. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 You invited the same 
 
 To sup with Papa 
 
 And well — there they are! 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 My success isn't true ! 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 I leave it to you. 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 But the people we know 
 Don't clap much, when they go — 
 That is, when you've dined 
 You are not inclined 
 To exert yourself much — 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 {alert) 
 
 What's thaO. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 I can't touch 
 The hearts of my friends ! 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 {hurryi'ng to the door) . 
 
 If that don't make amends I 
 He has waked up that crew 
 Of deadheads. He's through. 
 28
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 Is that applause? 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 Yes, ain't it warm. 
 
 It's roaring like a thunderstorm. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 Dear me. Mine didn't sound like 
 
 that. 
 I see now, mine was rather flat. 
 She sinks into chair, looking straight before 
 her, her hands behind her. 
 
 Well,' I brought him out. Although 
 through a whim 
 I have m.ade his success ! 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 No miss. That's all him. 
 
 Money, and rank, and patron's 
 
 powers 
 Can't make a true success, nor 
 flowers . 
 She huddles the cloak round her, with droop- 
 ing head. 
 I can't see his trophy. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 (/« a chokey tearful voice). 
 Look beneath 
 
 My flowers. Give him my gilded 
 wreath. 
 
 29
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 The Violinist enters. She draws herself to- 
 gether, and rises bravely. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 Young friend, I am a foolish girl 
 Who sought to leave the tedious 
 
 whirl 
 Of fashionable frivolity 
 An artiste of renown to be. 
 But now I shall seek other ways. 
 Please will you teach me how to 
 
 praise. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 But this is success I 
 I have opened your eyes. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 Your wreath, sir. express 
 As a little surprise. 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 For me? 
 {he lays it in Margaret's hands). 
 Nay, for you 
 Who have found out the truth. 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 Success crowneth ill 
 The vainglory of youth. 
 She turns with wreath to the Attendant 
 You have opened the pi-a-no 
 And also my eyes. 
 
 30
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 Successful I? Ah, no. 
 This wreath is your prize. 
 She puts it over his head. 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 For me this golden whirligig? 
 
 LADY MARGARET. 
 
 {to Violinist). 
 
 Ah, your success is just as big I 
 Concerts in future I'll attend. 
 To clap the playing of my friend! 
 
 {she takes his hand, he leads her Left). 
 
 THE VIOLINIST. 
 
 While I will to the world impart 
 The mmsic of a grateful heart 1 
 
 LADY MARGARET 
 
 And you remain — no more — no less — 
 The Piano Man who's won success 1 
 
 {They go out together, so she speaksl) 
 
 THE ATTENDANT. 
 
 Oh wonderful youth I 
 
 Successful, forsooth ! 
 
 Well, as you grow older 
 
 You'll tire of the folder 
 
 The photos, the poster ; 
 
 The fanciful boaster 
 
 Paid handsome to see 
 
 You get pub-li-ci-ty 1 
 
 And the fussing, the fretting, 
 
 The mad money-getting, 
 
 31
 
 THE GILDED WREATH 
 
 The notice, the praise, 
 
 The applause, the bouquets, 
 
 Won't seem any more 
 
 Than when I take the floor, 
 
 And night after night 
 
 See the very same sight, 
 
 New artistes, new fame. 
 
 Each one " Making a NAME 
 
 The while, in God's plan 
 
 I remain piano man, 
 
 Just opening the lid, 
 
 {opens box) 
 
 And shutting when bid. 
 Handing the flowers 
 
 ^puts in his wreath) 
 
 At all sorts of hours, 
 And clearing the mess 
 
 {box to shoulder) 
 
 That comes with SUCCESS. 
 
 EXIT 
 
 CURTAIN.
 
 A LITTLE business!^ NOTE. 
 
 All performances of this play are 
 liable to a fee if any money or con- 
 sideration is taken for admission, if 
 tickets are sold, a collection made, or a 
 hall or room or any place is hired for 
 the purpose. v 
 
 Also permission to play tliis must be 
 ■btained /// advamc from the author* 
 A ho will grant it on receipt of a fee of 
 * - m e ^-G -amea for each performance* oi^it ^sm 
 1 Ki-perf OFmed for - 1^/-— by Vi llage- -his ti t u l es 
 and Glubs-,. 
 
 Otherwise each person taking part, or 
 causing the play to be performed, is 
 subject to severe legal penalties.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below. 
 
 ^ey 
 
 ick- 
 
 »cm-
 
 B 000 0(