Surely weve had enough of second-hand Schopenhauer.
Even such a played-out old back number as Ibsen would have been
ashamed of it. Heart and brain, indeed!
VAUGHAN. You have neither one nor the other, Gunn. Youre decadent.
GUNN. Decadent! How I love that early Victorian word!
VAUGHAN. Well, at all events, you cant deny that the characters in
this play were quite distinguishable from one another. That proves
it's not by Shaw, because all Shaw's characters are himself: mere
puppets stuck up to spout Shaw. It's only the actors that make them
seem different.
BANNAL. There can be no doubt of that: everybody knows it. But Shaw
doesnt write his plays as plays. All he wants to do is to insult
everybody all round and set us talking about him.
TROTTER. [wearily] And naturally, here we are all talking about
him. For heaven's sake, let us change the subject
VAUGHAN. Still, my articles about Shaw--
GUNN. Oh, stow it, Vaughan. Drop it. What Ive always told you about
Shaw is--
BANNAL. There you go, Shaw, Shaw, Shaw! Do chuck it. If you want to
know my opinion about Shaw--
TROTTER. | No, please, we dont. |
| |
VAUGHAN. | Shut your head, Bannal. | [yelling]
| |
GUNN. | Oh, do drop it. |
_The deafened Count puts his fingers in his ears and flies from the
centre of the group to its outskirts, behind Vaughan.
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