nothing about. From a long time ago. There weren’t enough beds. Barns weren’t heated—
TIM (Reads):
Some really do, as I suppose,
Upon design keep on some clothes.
MARIAN: There you go.
TIM:
But then she’ll say when she lies down
She can’t be cumber’d with a gown,
And that the weather is so warm,
To take it off can be no harm . . .
RICHARD: Marian, she’s stripping . . .
TIM:
But she is modest, also chaste,
And only bare from neck to waist,
And he of boasted freedom sings,
Of all above her apron strings.
BARBARA (To Richard before he can say anything): Shut up.
TIM:
I leave now for others to relate,
How long she’ll keep her virgin state.
(He looks up.)
RICHARD: Marian still thinks they’re just being polite. “Move over daughter, give the stranger a little room.”
MARIAN: They’ve got their clothes . . . Some of their clothes on. I’m not saying things didn’t happen. But that couldn’t have been the point . . . We just don’t know.
RICHARD: It sounds to me like that was precisely the point. Tim, my sister here believed to the bitter end that Monica’s dress must have been stained by Coca-Cola. (Laughs) Or was it Dr. Pepper?
MARIAN: Shut up! I never said that. I never did. Why are you making fun of me? What have I done to you? And that was over ten years ago.
RICHARD: I hate to see you get hurt. And Tim, she was really hurt.
JANE: Read the rest.
(Short pause.)
TIM (Reads):
But you will say that I’m unfair,
That some who bundle take more care . . .
For some we may with truth suppose,
Bundle in bed with all their clothes.
BARBARA (To Marian): There . . .
(Short pause.)
TIM:
But bundler’s clothes are no defence,
Unruly horses push the fence.
(He closes the book. Short pause.)
RICHARD (To Marian): “Horses push . . .” Marian, you know what that—?
MARIAN: I know. I know.
(Pause.)
RICHARD (To the others): What did I do?
(Jane takes the book from Tim and hands it to Marian.)
JANE: Here.
RICHARD: How come she gets the book first?
JANE (To the others, about the book): Is it some potentially wonderful insight into the underbelly of those times? A possible peep hole? For historians? Does examining a custom like this—maybe open up—
RICHARD: “Open up.” Is that the best choice of words?
(Off, a phone begins to ring.)
JANE (Ignoring him): Open up new avenues for understanding—people? At least some people. Our ancestors.
MARIAN (To Barbara): Your phone is ringing.
BARBARA (Getting up, to Jane): What do you think it shows?
JANE: I don’t know. I just know from our own lives—we hide things. I know I do.
BARBARA: What do you hide? (She goes off)
JANE (Calling after her): By being polite. I think we all do. With our manners. (She turns back to the others) We pretend we’re one thing because—that’s what’s expected, I suppose. Or we’re embarrassed or scared of what we—feel. What we need. What we want. Obviously our ancestors built an entire “rule book,” for this “custom”—and if you peel it away—what you find is—
RICHARD: Sex?
(Marian looks at an uncomfortable Tim. Off, Barbara has picked up the phone; the ringing stops.)
JANE: I suppose, manners are ways of disguising what is basic to us. We all know it’s there, but we don’t want to admit it. “Sex.” Love. Survival. Hunger. Maybe power, authority. Control. Or what we fear. I don’t know. That’s what I meant earlier about the dinner party. Who speaks first, and so forth. What else is going on? Strip it all away—what is underneath?
(The lights fade.)
The Republican
Lights up. A minute later. Jane is looking to eat something else. The others are as they were; Barbara still off.
BENJAMIN (To Jane): You’re not eating the chicken?
JANE: I’m vegetarian.
MARIAN: Since when?
JANE: For about two years. So is Tim.
BENJAMIN: He’s eating the chicken.
JANE: And I don’t know why he is.
TIM: I’m fine. I’m okay.
MARIAN: I think Barbara has a pasta salad in the refrigerator.
TIM: I’m fine. Please.
JANE (Sitting again; to Tim): You didn’t have to eat the chicken. You don’t have to be so polite.
(Barbara returns.)
BARBARA (To Marian): That was your husband. Uncle Benjamin, you haven’t voted.
BENJAMIN:
