(Without words):
Two (or Perhaps Three) Young Men in New Zealand Khaki.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Guests at the Duchess’ Evening Party.
Maid, Footman’s substitute in uniform.
Two Plain Clothes Officers.
One or Two Collie Dogs.
Sheep—One, or More, if convenient.
“CONQUEST,”
OR
“A PIECE OF JADE.”
A New Play in Three Acts by
MARIE C. STOPES.
Act I.
The Scene is set in the hills of the sheep-raising part of the S. Island of New Zealand.
The back-cloth is painted with fine rocky and wooded hills and lakes, rather like Scotland but with a clearer, bluer sky and keener atmosphere.
The stage represents a temporary camp in a clearing, for the mustering and marking of sheep. There are boulders and groups of luxuriant trees. The grass is trampled under foot. Right centre is an open fire with cooking utensils. Back right the corner of sheep enclosures. On LEFT is a temporary cover, part canvas, part tree branches.
Two Shepherds are DISCOVERED near the fire, binding up the leg of a sheep. The collie dogs prowl and lie around.
1st Shep.
(An old, wiry man.) A fine muster, this year.
2nd Shep.
(A dour man, about 45 years old.) Aye.
1st Shep.
The best season I mind for ten years. (Working with sheep’s leg.) Plague take it, it’s slipped. Lie still you bleatin’ fule ye! And sheep s’d fetch a guid price this year and all.
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
I’m thinkin’ these sheep will be making the fortune of the young masters, but they do nought but make work for us.
2nd Shep.
(Spits.) Aye.
1st Shep.
The young masters must get an extra man, we never had to handle so many sheep.
2nd Shep.
Men’ll be scarce now.
1st Shep.
They will that. Do you hear they recruitin’ fellows are scourin’ the country for likely lads?
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
When did you know it?
2nd Shep.
’Bout a week ago.
1st Shep.
(Reproachfully.) And ye kept a tale like that from me—and me that glad of any bit of news in this lonesomeness. I call that nasty of ye.
(2nd Shepherd is silent; spits slowly.)
I call that nasty of ye.
2nd Shep.
Aye.
1st Shep.
And what else do ye know ye might tell me if—if, well, if I had a wee drop of something to loosen your lips—(Pulls out a flask and a tin cup and pours a small drink—the dogs come up.) Down Jock—get out Scottie. What news have ye for this, eh?
(2nd Shepherd reaches out his hand.)
1st Shep.
Na-na. News first. It mayn’t be worth it all.
2nd Shep.
The new young lady from England is comin’ this afternoon.
1st Shep.
What young lady? Why don’t I know a’ these wild doin’s? What’s she like. Who’s she stayin’ with?
2nd Shep.
Old man Lee and his daughter.
1st Shep.
Have you seen her? What’s she like?
2nd Shep.
(Stretching out his hand for his drink.) I’ve earned it.
1st Shep.
(Drawing it away.) Ye’ll tell me what she’s like first.
2nd Shep.
A flower. You give it to me now.
1st Shep.
(Hands it grudgingly.) Well, perhaps you desarve it. That’s news.
(He slowly fills a kettle out of a pail of water which he observes with annoyance is nearly empty and puts kettle on the fire.)
For why is she coming here?
2nd Shep.
London city was killin’ her. The doctor ordered six months of healin’ air.
1st Shep.
If she’s as bonny as you say it’ll be joyful doings for the young masters. Lasses are scarce here.
2nd Shep.
There’s Nora Lee.
1st Shep.
Well, fule. She’s only one. We’ve got two young masters, let alone the other young chaps hereby.
2nd Shep.
Mister Gordon’s lame. What’d he do with a girl?
1st Shep.
Only a bit lame, only a wee bit
