The Scarecrow (1972) - full transcript
Just before the Salem witch trials, an embittered old woman, who's learned witchcraft, and brings a scarecrow to life, as part of her revenge on the judge who was once her lover.
(upbeat instrumental music)
- Honored friends, come with us!
Heaven and her angelic
host shields the innocent!
Come!
- So, dear friends, this strange incident
is happily elucidated.
Bygones, therefore be bygones.
The future brightens with orange blossoms.
Hymen and Felicity stand
here with us together
ready to unite these bashful lovers.
His Lordship is reticent.
Yet you alone of all beautiful
ladies, Mistress Rachel-
- Silence!
- My Lord-
- Silence!
Dare not speak to her.
(eerie music)
(metal hammering)
- Dickon, more flame!
- [Dickon] Yeah, Goody.
- Oh, nay Dickon, so fierce.
- [Dickon] (speaking in foreign language)
Is that better?
- Oh, it will do.
Hey, be quick work.
Yeah.
There be nothing like
brimstone for the smithy trade.
Yeah, now I got me a stout set of ribs
will withstand any nor'easter that blows.
I've no notion to lose
my corn crop this summer.
(crows cawing)
Oy.
You'll be up up before
me and the sun daily!
One, two.
One for sorrow, two for mirth!
Oh, Dickon, we'll have the
laugh on our side this summer.
Dickon, more flame, where be thy wits?
- [Dickon] 'Tis early, dame.
- All the more need.
- [Dickon] Ow, ow, ow!
- Now, have I got thee, Dickon!
- Oh, deus!
I haven't been nabbed like that
since Saint Dunstan
tweaked me by the nose!
Well, sweet Goody?
- The bellows, Dickon.
- But 'tis hardly dawn yet.
Honest folks are still abed.
It makes for a long day.
- Aye.
The more time for your pets
the black crows to play in.
You heard 'em before.
That's why we must get this
scarecrow out before sunrise.
There.
We've made a fine body
to withstand the weather.
Now, you must make it look
lifelike to fool the crows
and make 'em think there's
a real human critter.
- The fool philosophies is
my specialty, but the crows--
- That staggers thee, does it
- Prod not the quick of
my genius, Madame Rickby.
I am Phidias, I am
Raphael, I am the Lord God.
Here, I'll show thee.
Yonder broomstick!
There, ha!
Ha!
Giddy up, my Salem mare!
A broomstick, that's for imagination.
We're all pretty artists,
to be sure, Bess.
Phidias, he sculptures the gods.
Raphael, he paints the angels.
The Lord God, he created Adam, and Dickon?
Yonder poker.
Dickon!
What doth Dickon, huh?
He nullifies them all.
He endows the scarecrow.
Poker, fines.
That's for conscience.
There's two fine legs to stand on.
Imagination, and conscience.
Yonder flails.
The ideal, the beau ideal, dame,
that's what we ought to seek.
The apotheosis of scarecrows.
And prithee, what is a scarecrow?
'Tis the antithesis of Adam.
"Let there be candles",
quote the Lord God,
sitting in the darkness.
Let there be candle
extinguishes, saith Dickon.
"I am created in the image
of my maker", quoth Adam.
"Look at thyself in the glass,"
saith Goodman Scarecrow.
Fine, fine, here are flails.
One for wit, t'other for satire.
Simplicity with two such arms, my lad,
how they'll work thy
way through the world.
- Thou talks as if though we're making
a real mortal, Dickon.
- To fool the crows, Goody,
I must fashion the critter
that'll first deceive a man.
- Scarce do that without a head.
Oh, what say you to housey jack-o-lantern?
- Ay, rare, my psyche!
We shall collaborate!
Now...
- Oo.
- We stain!
Cob, carrots, beets, turnips!
The anatomy!
- Look!
- Oh, Johannes Baptista.
What wouldst thou have
given for such a head?
I helped Salome cut his off, dame,
and was not half so
appetizing on her charger.
Tut, Copernicus once had such
a pumpkin, but 'tis rotten.
Look at his golden smile!
Hail, Phoebus Apollo!
- 'Tis the finest scarecrow in town.
- Nay, it is but a skeleton yet.
Must need to have the heart of a man.
Oo, Goody.
Dost hear it beat?
- (laughs) Thou merry rogue.
- Now, for the lungs of him, billows!
That's for eloquence.
He'll preach the black
knaves a sermon on theft.
Here goes, Goody, for digestion
and inherited instincts!
Now he'll learn to fight
for his own flesh and blood.
- Oh, Dickon I'll really be proud to thee.
- Aye, wait, wait 'til you see his peruke.
Voici, scalps of the enemy!
Oh, rare conqueror.
- Beauty!
- And now for a little comfort
on dark days and stormy nights.
I tell thee, Goody, with
yonder brand-new coat of mine,
he'll make a lad we should be proud of.
Why, he'll be a son to thee.
- Aye, aye, if I had but had a son.
- Why here thou hast him.
Thou't scare the crows
from my mother's cornfield,
won't, my pretty?
And send them over to other side the wall
to thee a neighbor's
Justice Gilead Merton's.
- Justice Gilead Merton.
So they would peck out his
eyes instead of his corn.
- And yet the Justice was a
dear friend to Blacksmith Bess.
- Aye, Blacksmith Bess!
If I had a stout arm when
he cast me off and the babe,
guess I should have starved
for all his worship cared.
- True, it was a scurvy
trick he played upon thee,
and upon me, too, who took such pains
to bring you two together.
To steal the heart of a young girl.
- Aye, to toss it away like
a bad penny in the gutter,
and the child to die.
- If I could get my hands
on that worshipful Justice.
Oh, but no.
No, I shall beat out
my heart on this anvil.
Whilst his worshipful
Justice clinks his coin
and drinks his port to a ripe, old age!
Justice!
Justice of God!
- Whist, dame!
Speak of the angels and hear
the rustle of their relatives.
- His niece, Mistress Rachel Merton.
Why comes she so early?
She could...Nay, I mind
me, 'tis the mirror.
Oh, she's a maid after our own hearts.
None of your Sabbath-go-to
meeting airs about her, nay.
No, she hath read the book
of the magi cover to cover
and paid good guineas for it.
Not her uncle knows on't.
Besides, Dickon, she be in love.
- [Dickon] With him?
A rendezvous?
- Be gone.
- Thou naughty rogue.
(expectant music)
- Mistress Rachel Merton!
Why so early?
I pray his lordship,
your uncle, be not ill.
- My uncle?
No, my uncle is well.
The early morning suits
me best for a walk.
- [Rickby] I see.
- Are you quite alone?
- Oh, quite alone, mistress.
There be nobody come visit Goody Rickby,
except in odd business.
- Yes, you must be busy.
Is it, is it here?
- You mean the glass-
- (gasps) Who's that?
- Oh, fear not.
'Tis but a scarecrow,
mistress, for cornfield yonder.
The crows be so pesky this year.
- Oh, how loathsome.
- Aye, he'll do.
- Here, this.
This is the mirror.
- Aye, it is the glass I told you about.
Oh, I would not sell it to most comers,
but seeing how you and Master Talbot-
- Yes, that will do.
- Why if the town folk guessed
what it could really do?
You've heard tell of the
gibbets on Salem Hill?
Well, there be not many in New
England like you, mistress.
Nay!
No, you approve miracles
outside the scriptures.
- Oh.
Well, will the glass do all you say?
- Aye.
- It never fails?
- No, mistress, no!
'Tis the glass of truth!
The glass of true lovers.
It shows folk as they really be.
No sham, no varnish!
Listen, if there be a black
wolf in a white sheep's wool,
this glass shall pluck out
the black beast inside it.
- The black beast?
- [Rickby] Aye.
- Well, what of the
sins of the soul, Goody?
Vanity and hypocrisy, and inconstancy.
Will it surely reveal them?
- If it do not that, bring it
back and get your money again!
Oh, nay, mistress!
Trust me, pretty sweeting!
An old dame hath eyes in her heart yet!
If thy lover be false, this
glass shall pluck out, too,
his fine feathers.
- Oh, 'tis no question of that.
I wish the glass to amuse me.
- Aye?
Why, then try it on
some of your neighbors.
- You ask a large price for it.
- Well, I run risks!
Where else could you get such a glass?
- Well, that's true.
All right, I will buy it.
I believe this is the
price that you mentioned.
- I'll see, I'll see.
Let's see.
Mistress?
(Rachel mumbling)
Hear me!
Folks call me a witch.
Well, a witch's word is
good as justice gold.
Take the glass with my blessing!
- Spare yourself that, dame.
Oh, but the glass, how will
you get it to me quietly?
- Oh, I have a neighbor boy
that does errands for me.
Ebeneezer!
- [Rachel] What? He's here?
- Ah, the boy's an orphan.
He sleeps in the hayloft at times.
Ebeneezer!
- Evening?
- You understand, I desire
no comment on this purchase.
- Nor I neither, mistress, to be sure.
- Well, is he trustworthy?
- [Rickby] Trust his wits who hath no wit.
He be mum.
- [Rachel] Oh.
- Job?
- Yeah, rumple-head.
This morning thy job is
to take yonder mirror
to Justice Gilead Merton's house.
The big one, top of the
hill, by the side door,
and mind, no gabbing.
There doth he catch?
- 'E swallows.
- Is the boy strong enough?
- Him? Ebeneezer?
(Ebeneezer spits)
- Gracious!
- Trust him to take the glass for ya.
- I will return home at once, then.
Let him go quietly to the
side door and wait for me.
Good morning!
Richard!
- Good morning.
- Oh, Squire Talbot.
You're abroad early.
- As early as Mistress Rachel.
Is it pardonable I caught
sight of you walking
in this direction, so I thought
it wise to follow lest you-
- Very kind, thanks.
We'll return home together, then.
You will make sure that
I receive the article?
- Trust me, mistress.
- What article?
- [Rickby] Begging your pardon, sir.
- What article? I said.
- Oh, the article?
It's a quaint, old glass
yonder, to be sure.
- Rachel, you haven't come here
at sunrise to buy this thing.
- Verily, this thing.
And at sunrise, a pretty
time for a pretty purchase.
Are you coming?
- More witchcraft nonsense.
Do you realize this is serious?
Of course, but you know I
am desperately mystical,
so pray, let us not discuss it.
Goodbye.
- Rachel, just a moment!
If you want a mirror, you
shall have the prettiest one
in all of New England, or I
will import you one from London,
only I beg of you, don't buy stolen goods!
- Stolen goods?
- Don't, please don't.
- Can you account for this
mirror, how you came by it?
- I'll show you stolen goods.
- Come on, swindler.
Keep your mirror, and give
the lady back her money.
- I damn you with your stolen goods.
- Will you come?
- Look you, old Rickby.
This is not the first time.
Charm all the broomsticks
in town you like.
Bewitch all the tables, and saucepans
and mirrors you please,
but gull no more money
out of young girls!
Mind you, we're not so enterprising
in this town as at Salem
but it may come to it, so look sharp!
I'm not blind to what's going on here.
- Not blind, are you, Master Puritan?
You see through my counterfeits?
You would scrape all the
wonder out of the world
as I scrape the meat out
of that pumpkin head!
Well, look sharp, master!
Afore sundown, I'll
send you a nut to crack.
Will make your orthodox jaws ache!
Your servant, Master Deuteronomy.
- We'll go.
- Trot away, you pretty team!
Toss your heads!
I'll unhitch you and
take off your blinders!
Your stolen goods.
(Dickon laughing)
Dickon, stop laughing!
- Oh, Lord, Lord.
- [Rickby] What tickles thy mirth now?
- For to think that the
soul of an orphan innocent,
but lives in a hayloft-
Should wear horns! (laughs)
- Ay, 'tis a wise devil knows
his own face in the glass!
(Rickby mumbling)
Must find a rival for
that cock-squire there.
One that shall steal
away the heart of Rachel.
- And bring her to church?
- To church or to hell!
It's all one to me!
- A rival, eh?
Oh, how would he serve
in there, dear Ebeneezer?
Fancy the deacons of the vestry, Goody,
when they see him escorting
the bride to the altar
with his tail around her waist!
- Oh, think it over in earnest!
Take her the glass.
Oh, mind!
Make it small so as to
attract no notice on the road.
- For Richard a rival, dear
Rickby wants Dickon's connival?
Lord!
What can the trick be?
Pow!
(eerie music)
Bye-bye, Sonny.
Take care of thy mother.
- Aye, mind!
Mind the rival, Sir Richard!
(Dickon whistling)
Mother.
(laughs) If I but had a son,
Justice Gilead's in mind to remind him
of merrier times as you
two have forgot. (laughs)
Oo, wouldn't I put a spoke in his wheel!
But no such luck.
No such luck.
- Permit me, madame.
- Him!
Justice Merton!
- Permit me, dame.
- [Rickby] You!
- I have had the honor.
Permit me to entertain suspicions
to rise up early, to follow my niece,
to meet just now Squire Talbot,
to hear his remarks concerning you, dame.
To call here, permit me to
express myself, to inquire-
- Concerning your waistcoat!
- Woman.
- The one you left last time.
- I have not had the honor to remember.
- The one I embroidered.
- 'Tis a matter of...
- Two and 20 year ago.
Let's try it on now, dearie.
- Unconscionable.
Unconscionable witch!
- Witchling, you used to say.
- Pah, pah!
Permit me, I forget myself.
Pride permit me, goeth before a fall.
As a magistrate, Rickby,
I borne with thee long,
but as the last straw, however,
that breaks the camel's back.
- Poor, poor camel.
- You have soiled.
You smirch the virgin
reputation of my niece.
You've inveigled her in
the notions of witchcraft.
Already, the neighbors
are beginning to talk.
But 'tis a long lane that hath no turning.
Yea, barely saith the Lord,
as a witch, permit me.
Thou art judged.
Thou shalt hang.
- [Man] Me too?
(foreboding music)
- I beg pardon?
- [Man] Not at all.
- Did somebody speak?
- [Man] Don't you recognize my voice?
Still and small, you know.
Let me out, we'll have a chat.
- This is thy sorcery.
- Aye.
- But I fear thee not.
The righteous man walketh
with God, yea, barely.
Satan, I ban thee.
I will read from the holy scripture.
(firecracker explodes)
- Thanks, it was stuffy in there.
- Dickon! Dickon!
- Oh, hello, Gilly.
Hello, Bess.
- [Gilead] No, no, Dickon.
No, no.
- You mind a little bit
of Auld Lang Syne, Gilly?
A chorus of that night long ago.
Gilead, Gilead, Gilead Merton.
He was a silly head, silly head, certain,
who forgot to close the old bed curtain.
Encore, now!
- No, no.
Mercy, mercy.
No, mercy.
She shall not hang, I swear it!
I swear it, I will not harm her!
I swear, I swear, I...
Is he gone?
Witchcraft.
Witchcraft!
I have witnessed it!
'Tis proved on thee, slut!
Thou art judged, yea, barely!
Thou shalt hang, witch!
- Aye, Gilead!
Aye!
I shall hang on!
Oh, Dickon, oh, angel! (laughs)
If I but had a son.
- Videlicet in law, a bastard.
(speaking in foreign language)
- In law!
In justice!
Worse luck he died.
- More than 20 years ago.
Good, he should be of age now.
One and 20, a pretty
age, too, for a rival.
For a rival?
Arrival.
Marry, he shall arrive, and marry,
and inherit his patrimony,
all on his birthday.
Come to work.
- What rant is this?
- And yet, Dickon, it pains me to perform
such an anachronism.
All this medievalism in Massachusetts.
These old-fashioned flames.
These alchemic accompaniments.
And I've tried so hard to be
a native American product.
It jars.
(speaking in foreign language)
I suppose I'm naturally middle-aged.
I haven't been myself, really, since 1492.
- What be you mooning about?
- I'm reminded of my
old friend in Germany,
Doctor Johann Faust.
He was just such a bag of old
rubbish when I made him over.
Ain't it trite?
You can't teach an old
dog like me new tricks.
Still, Goody.
A scarecrow.
It's decidedly local color.
Come, then.
A Yankee masterpiece.
Behold, madame, your son.
The future affianced of Rachel Merton.
The heir-elect through
matrimony of Merton house!
Gilead Merton II!
Lord Ravensbane!
Your lordship, your mother!
- Can you do it?
- I can try.
- Can you create him
for me and for Gilead?
- I will for a kiss.
- Oh, Dickon!
- Later!
Now, the waistcoat.
- Oh, rare, rare, rare,
he shall go wooing in it,
like his father!
- Come on, stand still,
Jackie, stand still.
So, my macaroni.
Ah, perfecto.
Stay, a walking stick.
- A spoke from the wheel of the
chaise he took me riding in.
(speaking in foreign language)
Oh, Sam Hill, my Latin is stale.
In the beginning, Goody, was the gourd.
- Do it.
- Of these thy modest
ingredients may thy spirit smack.
Flail, flip, broom sweep
(speaking in foreign language).
Cornstalk, turnip talk.
Turn, critter.
Pulse, beat, gourd, eat.
Ave Hellas!
Poker and pumpkin, stir the old junk in.
Breathe, bellows!
Corn cob, crow's feathers to end the job.
Jumble the rest of the rubbish together.
Dovetail and tune 'em.
E pluribus unum!
Devil.
Have I forgotten the hang of it?
Oh, he's lost his pipe!
What's a dandy without his 'baccy?
'Tis thy own grand, Goody.
Brimstone.
Well, without it, he's
not but a scarecrow.
'Tis the very breath and life of him.
So, now, yon hazel switch.
Ah, presto!
Brighten coal in the dust between us.
Whiten soul (speaking
in foreign language).
(eerie music)
Sic!
Sic, Jacobus!
Bravo!
- Puff, manny!
'Tis thy life!
(speaking in foreign language)
- Go it!
(slow cello music)
- See, see his eyes.
(speaking in foreign language)
- Take thy first step, bambino.
Toddle.
(quizzical music)
- Oh! Have a care!
- Well done, Pumpkin Jack!
Thou shalt be knighted for that.
Rise, Lord Ravensbane!
- Oh, see how he bows?
Oh, he smiles.
Like a tik-doo-loo-roo.
He flaps his flails at thee!
- Oh, will his lordship
deign to follow his tutor?
- Oh.
Oh.
Lord, the style of the broomstick!
- Will his lordship be
seated and rest himself?
Oh, he's dropped his pipe.
Thou must puff, boy.
Puff.
'Tis thy life.
Does his lordship find
his tobacco refreshing?
- Look, red is in his cheeks.
The beet juice be pumping.
- Will his lordship deign
to receive an audience?
The Marchioness of
Rickby, your lady mother,
entreats leave to present herself.
- My son.
(speaking in foreign language)
- Speak.
(speaking in foreign language)
Accost thy mother!
- Mother!
- Oh (speaking in foreign
language) I shall die!
- Thou hast thy son.
- Thou calls me mother.
Speak again, boy, speak again.
- From the bottom of my heart.
Mother?
- "From the bottom of my heart, mother."
Oh, thou killest me.
- Permit me,
madame.
- Oh, Gilead, Gilead himself!
Waistcoat, permit me, and all!
(laughs) 'Tis thy father all over again.
- It give me, I assure you, lady.
The deepest happiness.
- Just so the old hypocrite spoke to me
when I told him I'd have him. (laughs)
Oh, but thou, thou hast a
sweeter deference, my son.
- And now, my lord, your tutor is ready.
- I have the honor to
wish you good morning.
- Whoa, Jackie!
Whither away!
- Deign to reply, sir.
- I go with my tutor, Master Dickonson,
to pay my respects to his
worship, the Justice Merton,
to solicit the hand of his
fair niece, Mistress Rachel.
Permit me.
- Permit ye?
I beseech ye!
Thou wilt teach him his trick, Dickon.
- Trust me, Goody.
On the way to Justice Merton's
I'll play the mother hen,
and I promise thee that our bantling
will be stuffed with compliments
as a callow chick with caterpillars.
Hark!
Your lordship's retainers
acclaim you on your birthday!
They welcome you to your majority!
Listen!
Long live Lord Ravensbane!
- Count 'em.
One for sorrow, two for mirth,
three for a wedding, four for a birth!
Good.
Good luck on thy birthday!
And see how three fly into
yonder Justice Merton's field!
As the crow flies, so the wind blows.
Get thee gone, my boy.
Wed the girl and sting the Justice!
Bless you, my son!
- Mother?
Believe me to be your
ladyship's most devoted
and obedient Lord...
- Ravensbane.
- Lord Ravensbane!
(solemn music)
- [Announcer] And now,
Act II of "The Scarecrow",
by Percy MacKaye.
(solemn music)
- Now, are you willing?
- So, you suspect me of
dark, villainous practices.
- Oh, no, no, foolish Dick.
- Ah, still I am to be tested?
Is that it?
- That's it.
- As your true lover?
- Well, yes.
- Well then of course, I consent.
Every true lover always consents
to the follies of his lady.
- Oh, thank you, Dick!
I'm sure the glass will
sustain your character.
Now, when I draw the curtain-
- Now, what if I be false?
- The glass will reflect you
as the subtle fox that you are.
- And you as the goose?
- Very likely.
(man laughing)
Oh, no, Richard!
Do not laugh.
'Tis very serious.
You do not guess, you do
not dream of the mysteries.
- You pluck at too many mysteries.
Remember our first mother Eve?
- 'Tis is the glass of truth,
and Good Rickby told me-
- Oh, Rickby! Forsooth!
- Shh! Nay, come.
Let's have it over.
(gasps) There you are.
(laughs) Oh, there we both are,
just as we have always
seemed to each other.
True.
Isn't it wonderful?
- Oh, it's miraculous that a mirror
bought in a blacksmith shop
before sunrise for 20 pounds
should prove to be actually a mirror.
- Oh, Richard, I am so happy!
- Happy are thou, sweet goose?
Why then, God bless Goody Rickby.
- Squire Talbot.
Strange words from you.
- Sir, the old witch is
perhaps more innocent
than I represented her.
- Believe me, sir, witches
are never innocent.
(laughs) Oh, my young lovers, permit me.
I was young once myself.
Young and amorous.
- Verily.
- [Gilead] My worthy young man,
my fair niece, beware of witches.
- And Goody Rickby too, brother.
- Well, she will suffer for her misdeeds.
She is proscribed.
- Proscribed?
What is that?
- [Maid] What is this?
- She shall hang.
- Oh uncle, no!
Not merely because of
my purchase this morn!
- What purchase?
- This, I suppose.
- What?
You purchased this mirror
from her and brought it here?
- No, the boy brought it.
I found it here when I returned.
- What? From her shop?
From her infamous den into my parlor?
Call the servant, take it away.
- Oh Gilead!
- Micah, Micah!
Where is that man?
Micah, I say!
- Gilead, I bought it with my own money!
- With your own money?
Wilt have the neighbors gossip?
Would have thyself in my house
suspected of complicity with witches!
- Micah, take this mirror away!
- Yes, sir, but sir-
- Out of the house.
- There be visitors-
- Take it away, I say!
- Visitors, sir!
A gentry!
- [Gilead] Huh?
- Yes, sir.
Shall I show them in, sir?
- Visitors?
This hour in the morning?
Who are they?
- They're strangers, but I should judge
very high gentry, sir.
Lords.
- Lords?
- Yes, sir,
at least one of them.
The other one, the dark gentleman,
he said they left their horses at the inn.
(dogs howling)
- What is that unearthly sound?
- Must be in the cellar.
- 'Tis only the dog howling, madame.
When he spied the gentry, he fled.
He went below.
- Well, show them in.
- Yes, sir. Yes, sir.
- Don't keep them waiting!
Hurry along now!
Lords, huh?
Well, we'll speak of this matter later.
Lords.
Cynthia, think of that.
Lords.
- And in the morning, too.
- Oh, what a fortunate interruption.
Dear Dick, I wish we needn't
meet these strangers now.
- Would you really rather
we were alone together?
- We need only be introduced,
and then we could steal away together.
- Lord Ravensbane!
Marquis of Oxford, Baron of Wittenberg,
Elector of Worms, and Count of Cordova!
And Master Dickonson!
- Oh, believe me, sir.
You are excessively welcome.
I am deeply honored to meet-
- Lord Ravensbane of the
Rookeries, Somersetshire.
- Lord Ravensbane.
- Oh, I am truly honored, sir.
- Truly honored.
- And his lordship's-
- Tutor.
- Tutor.
- Justice Merton, I believe.
- Of Merton House.
Lord Ravensbane, permit me.
My sister, Mistress
Merton of Merton House.
Rachel, Rachel!
Oh, this is a young neighbor of ours.
Squire Richard Talbot.
Richard Talbot of, of-
- Of nowhere, sir.
- Nowhere.
- (laughs) Lord Ravensbane, permit me
to introduce my niece,
Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Lord Ravensbane...
(peaceful music)
- Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Your lordship.
- (gasps) A pipe!
- Gilead, smoking in the house!
- Your lordship has just arrived in town?
- [Dickon] From London, via New Amsterdam.
- [Gilead] Ah.
- Are you ill, Rachel?
- What?
- Your lordship is truly
welcome under my humble roof.
- Your lordship, roof.
- Roof of my father's oldest friend
bestows generous hospitality
upon his only son.
- His only son.
Oh, your father is--
- My father, permit
me, has never forgotten
your unceasing solicitude
for his happiness
in the days of his youth.
- Oh, forgive me.
The few slight favors
I was enabled to render
to your illustrious father.
- Upon quitting my home,
mother mother bade me,
be sure to pay your
respects to his worship,
the Justice Merton, and
deliver to him first,
my father's remembrances, and
secondly, my mother's epistle.
- Her ladyship's letter, sir.
- Oh, a crested seal.
- His lordship's grace, rooks rampant.
- Rooks ram, oh.
Permit me, your lordship.
- Have you noticed his bearing, Richard?
What personal distinction,
what inbred nobility.
Every inch, a true lord.
- He may be a lord, my dear,
but he walks like a broomstick.
- How dare you!
Oh!
- Mistress Rachel?
Permit me.
- Oh, thank you.
- So, Lord Ravensbane and his family
are old friends of yours?
- I never heard the name before, Richard.
- Would you like me to tell your fortune?
- Oh, yes.
- Believe me, sweet lady.
It would give me the deepest pleasure.
- Can you really tell fortunes?
- More than that, I can bestow them.
- Richard?
- Permit me.
I am astonished, overwhelmed!
But is her ladyship really serious?
An offer of marriage?
- Pray read it again, sir.
- Oh.
To his worshipful, the Justice
Gilead Merton, Merton House.
My honorable friend and benefactor,
with these brief lines I
commend to you, our son.
- Our son?
- [Dickon] She speaks likewise
for his lordship's father.
- Ah, in a strange land I entrust
him to you as to a father.
I'm honored, believe me.
I have only to add my earnest hopes
that the natural gifts, graces,
and inherited fortune, fortune?
- 20,000, pounds on his father's demise.
- Ah, a fortune of this
young scion of nobility
will so propitiate the
heart of your niece,
Mistress Rachel Merton, as to cause her
to accept his proffered hand in matrimony.
Well, but Squire Talbot is
already betrothed to my...
Well, well, we'll see.
Matrimony, and thus cement the early bonds
of interest and affection
between your honored self
and his lordship's father,
not to mention, dear sir,
your worship's ever grateful
and obedient admirer,
Elizabeth, Marhioness of R.
Of R?
Of R.
(laughs) Well, believe me, my dear sir,
it's been so long since
my extended travels,
and I visited so many
noble estates, permit me.
It's so awkward I cannot recall! (laughs)
- Not at all, not at all.
- [Ravensbane] Dickon, my pipe!
- Permit me one moment, sir.
I didn't quite catch your name.
- My name?
Dickonson.
- Dickonson?
(laughs) Oh, thank you.
I mistook.
Thank you.
- A compound, your worship.
Dickon-son.
- [Gilead] Dickon.
- Both at your service.
Is he, is he there?
- Bessie's brat, yes.
He didn't die, after all, poor suckling.
Dickon weaned it.
Saved it from balm of Gilead.
Raised it for joyful homecoming.
21st birthday.
Happy son, happy father.
- My, my son?
- Felicitations.
- What do you want?
- Only the happiness of your loved ones.
The joyful union of hearts and hands.
- Oh no, but think of it.
He is an illegitimate-
- Oh, fie, fie, Gilly.
The brat's a lord, now.
- Oh, no, no, no.
Don't repeat it.
Not disgrace now.
No think of that and my niece.
She's already betrothed
to young Squire Talbot.
- Twiddle-twaddle, Gilly.
It's a brilliant match.
Besides, her ladyship desires it.
- Her ladyship?
- Marchioness of Rickby.
- Oh, oh.
Rickby, I'd forgotten.
- Her ladyship has never forgotten.
So, you see, your worship's
alternatives are quite simple.
Alternative one, advance
the suit of my young lord
with your niece as speedily as possible,
and save all scandal.
- Oh, no.
- Alternative two, impede
the suit of my young lord
with your niece, and then-
- No, no, no.
Not disgrace now.
Don't reveal it now, Dickon.
- Good, we're agreed, then.
- Well I, I have no choice.
- Why, true.
We'd ignored that, hadn't we?
- Gilead?
This young lordship.
Why, Gilead, are you ill?
- Not in the least.
Rachel's deportment, my
dear brother, I tell you,
they are fortunetelling.
- Tush! Tush!
- Tush?
Tush, to me?
Tush?
- I am really at a loss.
Well, your lordship's
hand is so very peculiar.
- Peculiar?
- Well, see this line here?
This is the line of life.
- Line of life.
- But you see how it begins so abruptly,
and then it just breaks
off, and ends nowhere?
Same just so with this line here.
The line of love.
- Of love?
So, it breaks?
- Yes.
- Then that must be the heart line.
- Why, Lord Ravensbane, your pulse.
Really, if I am cruel,
you are quite heartless.
I declare I cannot feel your
lordship's heartbeat at all!
- That's because I've just lost it.
(laughing)
- Where?
- Dickon, my pipe!
- Oh, my lord, are you ill?
- Pardon, sweet, young lady.
I must confide in you
that his lordship's heart
is peculiarly responsive to his emotions.
When he feels very
ardently, it quite stops,
hence, the use of the pipe!
- [Rachel] Is smoking then
necessary for his heart?
- Absolutely, to equilibrate
the valvular palpitations.
Without his pipe, should
his lordship experience,
for instance, the emotion of love?
He might die.
- (gasps) You alarm me, sir.
- This is only for you, Mistress Rachel.
We may confide in you.
- Utterly, sir.
- His lordship, you see, is so sensitive.
- You've given it back to me.
Why didn't you keep it?
- What, my lord?
- My heart.
- It's intolerable!
Sir, do you approve of this?
Are Lord Ravensbane's
financials satisfactory?
- Eminently, eminently.
- Then her ladyship's letter appears-
- Charming, charming.
Your lordship, permit me,
will make my house your home.
- My home.
- Really?
My goodness, uncle!
What is this Master Dickonson tells us?
- What has he revealed?
- Why yes, indeed!
- Rachel-
- My uncle is doubtless
astonished to find you so grown.
- I am doubtless
astonished to be so grown.
- You have dared be-
- Let me remark, sir, that your worship
dandled his lordship, as an infant.
- Oh, oh, yes, quite, quite so.
I dandled as an infant merely.
- Well, how interesting.
Then you must have seen his
lordship's home in England.
Do you know that I've heard in England
that ladies followed the hounds?
And sometimes, they even dance.
- Dance, yes!
My mother dances about the altar.
She swings a hammer-
- Your lordship, you lordship!
Pray, check this vein of poetry.
His lordship symbolizes
as an altar and hammer,
a golf stick and tee, a Scottish game
which her ladyship plays
on her Highland estates.
- Oh, oh.
- Who is this magpie?
- Satan, sir.
- Beg your pardon?
- Satan makes you jealous.
- Lord Ravensbane?
I have a rustic colonial question to ask.
Is it the latest fashion
to smoke incessantly
in ladies' parlors, or is it medieval?
- His lordship's health,
sir, necessitates-
- I addressed his lordship.
- In, tn the matter of fashion, sir.
My pipe, Dickon.
- Well?
- Pardon, sir, but the fact is
that my young pupil is sensitive.
The wound from his latest
duel has not yet healed.
You will observe a slight lameness
and occasional absence of mind.
- [Rachel] Oh, a wound in a real duel?
- You, Mistress Rachel
know the true reason.
His lordship's heart.
- Well, well, your lordship,
as you were saying in the
matter of fashion, sir.
- In the matter of fashion,
sir, I am the fashions.
- Insufferable.
- Well, what do you make of that?
- Spoken like King Charles himself.
- Brother, brother, is
there nothing wrong here?
- [Dickon] Your worship.
- Rachel?
- [Rachel] Oh, you?
- You take quickly to European fashions.
- Yes?
Which one in particular?
- Two, smoking and flirtation.
- Jealous?
- Of an idiot?
I hope not.
Manners differ, however.
Your confidences to his
lordship have evidently
not included your relations to me.
- Oh, our relations?
- Since you wish him to
continue in ignorance.
- Not at all.
He shall know at once.
Lord Ravensbane?
- [Talbot] Rachel, stop.
I didn't-
- Mistress Rachel?
- My uncle did not introduce to you
with sufficient
elaboration this gentleman.
Allow me to do so now.
- I adore Mistress Rachel's elaborations.
- Lord Ravensbane?
I beg to present Squire
Talbot, my betrothed.
- Betrothed?
Is it pleasant?
- Are you satisfied?
- More than satisfied.
- Oh, betrothed is not pleasant.
- Not always.
- Mistress Rachel is not happy?
- With him.
- Mistress Rachel will smile again?
- [Rachel] Soon.
- Will you smoke my pipe?
- Shall I try?
- It's very pleasant.
- [Gilead] Rachel?
- Uncle!
- Permit me, your lordship.
Rachel, will you withdraw for a moment?
I wish to speak to his lordship
concerning his mother's,
his ladyship's letter.
That is, if your noble
pupil is not too fatigued.
- Not at all.
I think his lordship will listen
to you with much pleasure.
- With much pleasure.
- And in the meanwhile, if
Mistress Rachel will allow,
I will assist her in
writing those invitations
which her worship wishes
to send in her name.
- Invitations, from my niece?
- To his excellency,
the Lieutenant Governor,
to your very good friends,
the Reverend Masters
at Harvard College, et cetera, et cetera.
In brief, to all those
of your worship's select
social acquaintance in the
vicinity to meet his lordship.
Indeed, it was most thoughtful
of you to suggest it, sir,
and I assure you that my young lord
is most appreciative of
the courtesy you have shown
in arranging the reception in
his honor for this afternoon.
(Gilead babbles)
- This afternoon?
Why Uncle, are we really
to give a reception
for Lords Ravensbane, and will it be here?
- I believe you said yes, sir.
- Quite so, quite so.
Quite so, sir.
- Permit me to act as your
scribe, Mistress Rachel.
- Oh, with pleasure, sir.
'Til we meet again.
- Mistress Rachel.
- I advise nothing rash, Gilly.
The brat has a weak heart.
- Remember, Jack!
Puff, puff!
- She's gone.
- Imposter.
Thou at least shall not play
the lord and master to my face.
I know with whom I have to deal.
If I be any judge of my own
flesh and blood, permit me,
you shall quail before me!
- Didn't smile.
- Affected rogue, I
know thy feigned pauses,
thy assumed vagaries.
Speak, how much do you want!
- Mistress Rachel?
- Scoundrel, mention her name again.
That sweet, that innocent maid.
If thou dost, thou godless
spawn of temptation,
mark me, I will put an end to-
- Beg pardon, I forgot something.
- God, thou art just.
- [Ravensbane] Permit me, sir.
Are you ill?
- What art thou?
- I am Lord Ravensbane, Marquis of Oxford,
Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms-
- Ah.
- [Ravensbane] Shall I call Dickon?
- No, no, no-
- Dickon!
- No, do not call him.
Tell me, I hate thee not.
Thou wast innocent.
Tell me, I thought thou
hadst died as a babe.
Where has Dickon, our tyrant,
kept thee, these 20 years?
- Master Dickonson is my tutor-
- Why has thy mother?
Oh, I know well.
I deserve all of it.
Still, it must not be published now.
I'm a justice, an honored citizen,
and my niece, thy mother
will not demand so much.
- My mother is the Marchioness of Rickby.
- Yes, yes, it was well planned.
A very clever trick.
Twas skillful of her,
but surely thy mother gave commands-
- My mother gave me her blessings.
- Ah, 'tis well, then.
Tell me, young man.
My son, I too, will give thee my blessing,
if thou wilt but go.
Go instantly.
Go with half my fortune.
Go, but leave me my honor
and Mistress Rachel.
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- Oh, surely, think of the disgrace.
You, an illegitimate, and my niece.
She...Think what thou art.
- I am Lord Ravensbane, Marquis of Oxford,
Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms
and Count of Cordova.
- Devil's child!
Boor! Baffoon!
I will bear thy insults no longer!
If thou hast no heart-
- My heart.
- Hypocrite!
You cannot fool me!
I am thy father!
- Father?
- Stand away!
You may break thy heart
and mine and the devil's,
but you shall not break Mistress Rachel's!
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
Smiles are mine.
Eyes are mine.
- Oh, can it be his heart?
He's still.
Oh, not a sound.
Oh, thank God, he is, he is...
He is my son.
Judge Almighty, if he were to die,
may I not be still a moment
longer and make sure?
He's, he's my son.
He's changing.
He's change.
Help, help!
Mistress Rachel!
Master Dickonson!
Cynthia!
Squire Talbot!
- [Rachel] Uncle?
- [Gilead] Lord Ravensbane has fainted.
Bring some wine.
- Micah, wine!
- Stay, his pipe.
Where is his lordship's pipe?
- He threw it away.
- Terrible.
- what's the matter?
Oh!
- He's getting worse!
Where's the wine?
- Look how strange he appears?
- His pipe, his lordship's pipe.
Master Dickonson, it is lost!
- [Dickon] It must be found.
This is a heart attack, my friends.
His lordship's life
depends upon the nicotine.
- Oh, here it is!
Thank God!
Shall I put it in?
- No, not you.
- [Rachel] Sir!
- You let his tutor perform that office!
- Lord!
- [Talbot] Rachel!
- [Ravensbane] Rachel.
- Pardon, mistress, give the pipe at once.
Only a token of affection
can revive his lordship now.
- I forbid it, Rachel!
- My lord.
My lord.
- Give him air, open his coat.
Heavens, what do I see?
Cynthia?
- That waistcoat, that waistcoat!
Brother, hast never seen that before?
- Never, never.
- See he puffs.
He revives.
He's coming to himself.
- At last.
- [Dickon] Look, he's restored.
- Oh, God be thanked.
- My lord, my lord.
Mistress Rachel has saved your life.
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- Do you dare to repeat that!
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- This, sir, is yours!
- Richard!
- I believe such is the
proper fashion in England.
If your lordship's last dueling wound
is sufficiently healed,
perhaps you will deign a reply.
- Richard.
My lord.
(expectant music)
- [Announcer] We will return in a moment
with Act III of "The
Scarecrow" by Percy MacKaye
on "Hollywood Television Theater".
And now, Act III of "The Scarecrow",
by Percy MacKaye.
(upbeat music)
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- No, no, no, Jackie!
In inflection, a little more lachrymose.
The true sincerity of the heart.
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- Prettily, prettily!
Next.
- Verily, sir, as that prince of poets,
the immortal Virgil has remarked
(speaking in foreign language).
- (speaking in foreign language) next!
- Trust me, your excellency.
I will inform his
majesty of your courtesy.
- No, no, Jackie.
No, his majesty, a little more emphatic.
Remember, you must impress all
of the people this afternoon.
Come now, the retort to the challenge.
- The second, I believe!
- Quite so, my lord.
- Sir, the local person whom you represent
has done himself the honor to submit to me
a challenge to mortal combat.
Sir, in such affairs of
honor, choice of weapons
has ever been the...
- Prerogative.
- Prerogative of the challenged.
Sir, this right of
etiquette must be observed.
Nevertheless, believe me,
I have no selfish desire
that my superior...
- Attainment.
- Attainments in this art
should assume advantage
over my challenger's ignorance.
I have therefore, selected
those combative utensils
most appropriate from
his own humble origin.
Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice.
There are my weapons.
- Delicious!
Oh, thou exquisite flower of love.
How all thy natal composites
have burst in bloom.
The golden pumpkin in thee
to this golden collarette!
Thy mop of crow's wings
to these raven tresses!
Thy broomstick to this lordly limp.
Thy corn-silk to these
pale-tinted tassels.
Truly, in the gallery of scarecrows,
thou art the Apollo Belvedere.
- Mistress Rachel, I may see her now?
- Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wast ever
such an amorous puppet show!
- Mistress Rachel?
- Now let me think.
Thou art wound up my pretty
apparatus for six and 30 hours.
The wooden angel Gabriel
that trumpets the hours
on that big clock in Venice
is not a more punctual manikin
than thou art with my speeches.
Thou shouldst run, therefore-
- Stop talking!
Permit me, a tutor should know his place.
- Nay.
His lordship is beyond comparison.
- She'll come?
I'll see her?
- Oh, pardon me, my lord.
- [Ravensbane] Is it she?
- Captain Bugby, the governor's secretary.
- Good, Squire Talbot's second.
Send him in, please.
- Oh, my lord.
Shall I remove these?
- Drop them and go.
- Sir!
- Go, thou slave!
- [Micah] Yes, sir.
- Here, my lord, read.
You must be found reading.
- She doesn't come! I won't see her!
- Fie, fie, Jackie.
Thou mustn't break thy
Dickon's apron strings
with a will of thine own.
Come.
- Mistress Rachel.
- Be good, and you shall see her.
His lordship was saying,
oh, Captain Bugby.
Captain Bugby, sir, at
Lord Ravensbane's service.
- [Dickon] I am Master
Dickonson, his lordship's tutor.
- Happy, sir.
- My lord, this gentleman waits
upon you from Squire Talbot.
In regard to the challenge
of this morning, I presume?
- The second, I believe!
- Quite so, my lord.
- Sir, the local person whom you represent
has done himself the honor to submit to me
a challenge to mortal combat.
Sir, in such affairs of
honor, choice of weapons
has ever been the pre-gative
of the challenged.
Sir, this right of
etiquette must be observed.
- Indeed, yes-
- Do not interrupt.
Your lordship observed?
- Observed.
Nevertheless, believe me,
I have no selfish desire
that my superior attainments in this art
should assume precedence over
my challenger's ignorance.
I have therefore, selected
those combative utensils
most appropriate to his own humble origin.
Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice.
There are my weapons.
- These, my lord?
- Those.
- But those are flails!
- Flails.
- Flails, my lord?
Am I to understand that your lordship-
- [Ravensbane] Exactly.
- But your lordship, flails!
- My adversary should
be deft in their use.
He has no doubt wielded them frequently
on the floor of his barn.
- But...
Ah, I understand now! (laughs)
Well, your lordship is a wit!
Flails!
- His lordship's satire is poignant.
- Indeed, sir.
So keen that I must apologize for laughing
at my principal's expense.
But your lordship, if
you will deign to speak
one moment seriously, I will take pleasure
in informing Squire Talbot as
to your real preference for...
- Flails.
Flails are final.
I have, permit me, nothing further to say.
- (laughs) What?
Must I really report-
- His lordship's will is inflexible.
- And his wits are incomparable.
I am sorry for the squire,
but 'twill be the greatest joke in years.
Tell me, is it, is...the latest fashion?
- Lord Ravensbane is always the latest.
- Obliged servant, sir.
(laughs) Flails!
(laughs) Your lordship!
Flails!
- Bravo, pumpky dear.
That squelches the jealous betrothed.
Now that all that remains
is for you to continue
to bedazzle the enamored Rachel,
and so present yourself to Justice Merton
as his pseudo-son-nephew-in-law.
- I may go to Mistress Rachel now?
- She will come to you.
Even now, she's reading a poem from you,
which I have left on her dressing table.
- Reading a poem from me?
- With your pardon, my
lord, I penned it myself.
I am something of a poetaster.
I flatter myself that I have dictated
some of the finest lines in literature.
- Dickon, she will come?
- She comes.
- To Mistress R, enchantress.
If faith in witchcraft be a sin,
alas, what peril is he in,
who plights his faith and love in thee,
sweetest maid of sorcery?
If witchcraft be a whirling brain,
a roving eye, a heart of pain,
whose wound no thread of fate can stitch,
how hast thou conjured, cruel witch?
With the brain, eye, heart
and total mortal residue
of thine enamored, Jack Lanthorne.
- Rachel.
- Oh, my lord, how you surprised me.
- You've come again.
- Has anything happened, my lord?
I have been in such terror.
Promise me there will be no duel.
- No duel.
- Oh, I am so gratefully happy.
- Happy, and you look at me, I live.
(slow music)
- It is strange indeed, my lord,
how the familiar world, the daylight,
the heavens themselves have
changed since your arrival.
I never met a real lord before.
You, my lord, must have
met so many, many girls
in the great world.
- No, never.
- No other girls before today, my lord?
- Before today, I wasn't here.
I was born in your eyes.
My brain whirls.
- If witchcraft be a whirling brain,
a roving eye, a heart of pain.
My lord, do you really
believe in witchcraft?
- With all my heart.
- And approve of it?
- With all my soul.
- So do I.
Well, that is, innocent witchcraft.
Not to harm anybody, you know,
but just to feel all
the trembling excitement
and the dark mystery.
You know the way you feel
when you blow out your candle
all alone in your bedroom,
and watch the smoke fade
away in the moonshine?
- Fade away in the moonshine.
- Oh, but we mustn't speak of it, my lord.
In a town like this, all such mysticism
is considered damnable.
But my lordship understands and approves.
I am so glad.
Have you read the Philosophical
Considerations of Glanville?
(speaking in foreign language)
Presignification of Dreams?
What kind of witchcraft do
you believe in, my lord?
- In all of yours.
- Nay, your lordship must
not take me for a real witch.
I only tell fortunes, you
know like this morning.
- I know, you told how
my heart would break.
- Oh, that's palmistry.
That's not always certain.
But the surest way to a prophecy,
do you know what that is?
- [Ravensbane] Tell me.
- To count the crows.
Do you know how?
- One for sorrow.
- Ah, yes!
Two for mirth.
- Three for a wedding.
- [Rachel] Four for a birth.
- And five for the
happiest thing on Earth.
- My lord, how did you ever learn that?
(Ravensbane laughing)
I got it from an old goody here in town.
A real witch-wife.
And if you promise not to tell
a secret, I will show you.
But you must promise.
- I promise.
- Come, then.
I will show you a real piece of witchcraft
that I bought from her this morning.
The glass of truth, there,
behind that curtain.
If you look in, you will see.
But come, I will show you.
- My lord, your pipe.
(Rachel exclaims)
- Master Dickonson, oh, you frightened me!
- So excessively sorry.
- But how did you-
- I believe you were showing his lordship-
- No, nothing.
Nothing at all.
- Why did you come?
- Allow me.
'Tis high time you got to the point, Jack.
'Tis near your lordship's reception.
Woo and win, boy, woo and win.
- Leave me.
- Your lordship's humble, very humble.
- My lord, why do you keep this man?
- [Ravensbane] Why?
- Forgive me, but he frightens me.
- You don't like him?
Then I don't like him, either.
We'll send him away, you and I.
- Well you, of course, but I-
- You be Dickon.
You light my pipe and be with me always.
And I'll live for you, and fight for you,
and kill your betrothed.
- No, no.
- But your eyes say yes.
Mistress Rachel leaves me, but
Rachel in her eyes remains.
Is it not so?
- Oh, my lord, what can I say?
It, it is true that
since my eyes met yours
a new passion has entered into my soul.
I have felt, oh, but 'tis so impertinent,
'tis so absurd in me, a mere girl,
and you, a nobleman of power.
Yet I have felt it irresistibly, my lord,
a longing to help you.
I am so sorry for you, my lord, so sorry.
I pity you deeply.
Oh, forgive me, forgive me, my lord.
Indeed, indeed, it is
so rude, just so absurd.
I do not understand it, my lord,
how so mere and poor a girl
as I can have helped you,
yet I do believe it is
so, for I feel it is so.
My lord, what can I do for you?
- Be mine.
Let me be yours.
- But my lord, do I love you?
- Love, is it a kiss, an embrace?
Then you don't love me.
Is it to nourish, to lift up?
To smile upon a worm?
Then you love me.
- Oh, my lord, do not
speak so of yourself.
Nor exalt me so falsely.
- Be mine.
- Great glory has descended upon this day.
- Be mine?
- Oh, could I but be sure that
this glorious love, oh then-
- It is not love, it is witchcraft!
- Who is that?
Richard!
- You have indeed forgotten me?
Oh, to God, Rachel, I could forget you.
- Permit me, sir.
- Silence!
Against my will, I am a
convert to your own mysticism.
For nothing less than damnable
illusion could so instantly
wean your heart from me to this.
I do not pretend to understand it,
but that it is witchcraft, I am convinced,
and I will save you from it.
- No, go.
Please go.
- Permit me, sir.
You have not yet replied to flails.
- Permit me, sir.
My answer is bare cob.
Thresh this, sir, for your antagonist.
'Tis the only one worthy of your lordship.
- [Rachel] Richard!
- Upon my honor as a man-
- As a man forsooth!
Were you indeed a man, Lord Ravensbane,
I would've accepted your
weapons and flailed you
out of New England,
but it is not my custom
to chastise renegades from asylums
or to banter further words
with a natural and a ninny.
- Squire Talbot, will you
leave my uncle's house?
- One moment, mistress.
I didn't wholly catch the import
of this gentleman's speech,
but I fancy I've insulted him
by my reply to his challenge.
One insult may perhaps
be remedied by another.
Permit me to call you a ninny!
And to offer you swords!
- Thanks, I reject the offer.
- He rejects it.
Well...
- And now, will you leave?
- At once, but one word more.
Rachel, Rachel, have you
forgotten this morning
and the glass of truth?
- No.
- Call it a fancy now, if you will.
I scoffed at it, yes, yet you believed it.
I loved you truly, you said.
Well, have I changed?
- Yes.
- Or will you test me again in the glass?
- No, please go!
- I will go.
I have still a word with your aunt.
- [Ravensbane] I beg pardon.
You said just now that had I been a man...
- I say, Lord Ravensbane,
that the straight fiber
of a true man never warps
the love of a woman.
As for yourself, you have
my contempt and pity.
Pray to God, sir.
Pray to God to make you a man.
- Oh, this is intolerable!
My dear lord,
I do believe in my heart that I love you.
And if it is so, I will
with gratitude be your wife.
That strange, glamorous,
strange darknesses reel
and bewilder my mind.
I, I must be alone.
I must think and decide.
Will you give me this tassle?
- Take it.
(gentle music)
- If I decide that I love you,
that I will be your wife, I will wear it
at the reception this afternoon.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
- Oh God, are you here?
Dear God, I pray,
make me to be a man.
- Oh, Jackie.
Thou shouldst of prayed to t'other one.
- Will you not listen?
- Such a delightful room.
I particularly admire that portrait.
The waistcoat is beautifully executed.
If I were to give him 10,000 pounds-
- Flails, flails in the study!
- Madame, the minister and his wife
have turned in at the gate.
- Guests, is it so late?
- 'Tis four o'clock, madame.
- Micah, move these flails, at once.
- Yes, madame.
Madame, in all my past years
of service at Merton House,
I never waited upon a lord
until today, and madame,
in all my future years of
service at Merton House,
I trust I may never
wait upon a lord again.
- Micah, mind the knocker.
Yes madame, yes madame.
- Rachel!
Rachel!
- And you are satisfied with nothing less
than the sacrifice of my niece?
- Your worship, Minister
Dodge, Mistress Dodge.
- Oh, oh, believe me, this
is the greatest privilege.
- Nay, nay, nay, nay, the
privilege is ours, Justice.
To enter a righteous
man's house is to stand,
as t'were, on the threshold of God.
- Amen, amen.
- My guest, the Lord Ravensbane
will be here directly,
but permit me to introduce
to you his tutor,
Master Dickonson, Master
Dodge, Mistress Dodge.
- Master Dickonson, sir.
- Madame, of all the
professions in the world,
your husband's most allures me.
- 'Tis a worthy one, sir.
- And so arduous, especially
for a minister's wife.
- (laughs) Oh, thank you.
- Lord Ravensbane comes from abroad, huh?
- London.
- Oh, he's an old friend
of yours, I understand.
- From London, yes.
Did I say London?
Quite so, London.
- Captain Bugby!
The governor's secretary.
- Justice Merton, your
very humble servant.
- Permit me, Captain Bugby.
- And Minister Dodge.
Master Dickonson, my good
friend Master Dickonson,
this is indeed.
How is his lordship?
(Dickonson coughing)
Ah, discretion, Mistress
Dodge, your servant.
(Mistress Dodge coughing)
Oh, the latest, the very latest
from London, I assure you.
Ask Master Dickonson.
- These will all hatch
out in the springtime.
(Gilead laughing)
- Really, my good friend,
may I not venture to inquire
how his lordship is in health since-
- Oh, quite, quite.
- [Cynthia] Mistress Dodge.
- I informed Squire
Talbot of his lordship's
epigrammatic retort,
the retort of (laughs),
that reply was a stiletto.
'Twas sharper than a sword
thrust, I assure you.
To have conceived it was inspiration,
to have expressed it, was genius.
- Indeed it is, madame,
but if there were more
like your brother in the parish,
the conscience of the
community would be clearer.
- Ah.
- The Reverend Master
Rand of Harvard College,
the Reverend Master
Todd of Harvard College!
- Oh, permit me, gentlemen.
Oh, this is the greatest honor.
It's most fortunate you should come here
before you return to Cambridge.
- It sticks me now in the ribs.
I shall die with concealing it.
- His excellency should be here directly.
- I cannot understand
what keeps her, Charles.
He has two such charming daughters.
- That would never be countenanced
in the college yard, sir.
Nay (speaking in foreign language).
- (laughs) 'Tis most unfortunate,
but I understand 'tis
the new vogue in London.
- His excellency, Sir Charles Reddington,
Lieutenant Governor,
the Mistress Reddington!
- My cousins.
- Oh, your excellency.
Oh, this is the greatest
honor, I assure you.
- Fine weather, Merton.
- [Girls] Justice Merton.
- Young ladies.
- Now, where's this young lord of yours?
- [Bugby] My dear Mistress Reddington.
Charming, Miss Amelia.
You two are so very
late, but you shall hear.
- Your pipe, captain, what is this?
- Oh, the latest, the very latest,
I assure you, from London.
Wait 'til you see his lordship.
- Oh what, isn't he here?
- What say?
Traveling for his health?
- Partially, your excellency,
but my young pupil and master
is of a singularly affectionate nature.
(girls laughing)
- What?
Flails, really?
- He has traveled here to
Massachusetts singularly
to pay this visit to Justice Merton,
his father's dearest friend.
- Ah, knew him abroad, eh?
- In Rome, your excellency.
- [Mistress Dodge] Why, I
thought it was in London.
- Oh, well, we traveled
so many places together.
Rome, Lisbon.
- Paris, was it not, sir?
- Huh? Oh, Paris, yes.
Quite so, Paris.
- Lord Ravensbane!
- His lordship's arriving.
Permit me, your excellency.
May I introduce to you-
- Permit me, Mistress
Rachel will introduce.
- Sir Charles, may I present
my friend Lord Ravensbane?
- Lord Ravensbane.
- Trust me, your excellency
I will inform his majesty
of your courtesy.
- Ah, Mistress Rachel.
You are as pretty as ever, I see.
Oh, I say, Bugby.
- Verily, sir.
As that prince of poets, the
immortal Virgil has remarked
(speaking in foreign language).
- His lordship is
evidently a university man.
- My daughters, sir.
Fanny and Amelia.
Lord Ravensbane.
- Your lordship.
- Lordship.
- They're good girls, but silly.
- [Fanny and Amelia] Papa.
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- [Mistress Reddington]
Isn't he perfection?
- [Bugby] What said I?
- Believe me, it's beyond all
bounds of custom and decorum.
- Believe me, there's no such flatterer
to a woman's mind as music.
- In this presence?
Never.
- Nevertheless, it will amuse me vastly,
and you will announce it.
(guests chatting)
- Your excellency, my honored friends.
Permit me, his lordship
has condescended to consent
to regale us, our company, with a song.
- [Group] A song?
- [Cynthia] Gilead, what is this?
- It is an old German ballad leader,
last performed by his lordship.
A particular favorite at the
court of the King of Prussia,
and the title, has given it
translation by his tutor.
- "The Prognostication of the Crows".
- [Gilead] Crows.
- [Group] Crows?
- Well, I'm further requested to tell you
that in ancient German heathen mythology,
the crow or the raven is considered to be
the fateful bird of the God Woden.
(guests murmuring)
- Come, come, come, come, come.
It's only a ballad.
It sounds like old England again.
- [Todd] Excellency?
- Oh, sit down, sit down.
Let's have it, Merton.
Yes, but will his lordship
sing without music?
- Oh, his tutor, Master Dickonson
has consented to accompany
his lordship at the spinet.
- [Amelia] Oh, how delightful.
- [Rand] Shall we remain?
- [Todd] We must.
(eerie spinet music)
- My tassle, you don't wear it.
- My heart still wavers, my lord.
Whilst you sing, I will decide.
- Whilst I sing?
My fate is waiting for me
then, at the end of a song.
At the end of a song.
- Your lordship.
- Permit me.
♪ Baron von Rabenstod arose ♪
♪ The golden sun was rising ♪
♪ Before him flew a flock of crows ♪
♪ Sing high, sing high, sing high ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ Ill speed, ill speed, thee baron-wight ♪
♪ Ill speed thy palfrey pawing ♪
♪ Blithe is the morn,
but black the night ♪
♪ That hears a raven's cawing ♪
(crows cawing)
- Do you hear them?
Shh.
- [Amelia] What can that be?
(guests murmuring)
(eerie music)
- Please note, my friends,
the accompanying harmonics.
♪ The baron wrecked not a pin ♪
♪ For the golden sun was shining ♪
♪ He rode to woo, he rode to win ♪
♪ Sing high, sing high, sing high ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ He rode into his prince's hall ♪
♪ Through knights and maidens flowery ♪
♪ Thy daughter, prince, I bid thee call ♪
♪ I claim her hand and dowry ♪
(crows cawing)
- This gentleman's playing is
somewhat ventriloquistical.
- 'Tis more than that, sir.
- It's abyssal.
- [Todd] It is unholy!
- Shall we leave?
♪ What cock is this with crest so high ♪
♪ That crows with such a pother ♪
♪ Baron von Rabenstod am I ♪
♪ Methinks we know each other ♪
♪ Now, welcome, welcome,
dear guest of mine ♪
♪ So long why didst thou tarry ♪
♪ Now, for the sake of auld lang syne ♪
♪ My daughter thou shalt marry ♪
(crows cawing)
(eerie music)
- Smacks of witchcraft.
(woman whispers)
♪ The bride is brought,
the priest, as well ♪
♪ The golden sun was passing ♪
♪ They stood beside the altar rail ♪
♪ Sing ah, sing ah, sing ah ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ Woman, with this ring I thee wed ♪
♪ What makes his voice so awing ♪
♪ The baron by his bride is dead ♪
♪ Outside the crows ♪
♪ Are cawing ♪
(crows cawing)
- This is no longer godly!
Justice Merton (speech
drowned out by crows)
- See, I will wear it now.
You yourself shall fasten it.
- Rachel.
- My lord.
- I told you, witchcraft,
like murder, will out.
Lovers, behold yourself.
(Rachel gasps)
- Do not look!
- Too late.
- What?
- Leave me!
Richard!
(women exclaiming)
- Fear not, mistress.
I'll kill this thing.
Fear'st thou me?
What art thou?
Why, 'tis a glass.
Mockest, thou me?
Look, mistress.
It mocks me.
(metal clanging)
(women exclaiming)
Oh.
No.
No.
Oh God, please.
Take it away.
No.
Don't.
Don't look.
It's, it's...
I...
- Witchcraft.
- [Group] Witchcraft!
- [Man] Witchcraft!
Witchcraft!
(solemn music)
(beeping)
- [Announcer] And now, Act IV
of "The Scarecrow", by Percy MacKaye.
(sorrowful music)
- All have left me.
Rachel has left me.
All that I loved, all that
loved me have left me.
But not thou.
If thou art I,
if thou dost feel these pangs thine own,
show themself mercy, speak.
What art thou?
What am I?
Why are we here?
Nay, though thou answer not these doubts,
yet mock them, mock them aloud,
even as there, monstrous, thou
counterfeitist mine actions.
Speak, abject enigma.
Speak, poor shadow.
Thrust not thy mawkish
face in pity toward me.
Ape and idiot.
Speak!
God, dost thou dwell in this thing?
Is it thou that peerest
forth at me, from me?
Between the rise and setting of the sun,
I've walked in this world of thine.
I've been thrilled with wonder.
I've been calmed with knowledge.
I've trembled with joy and passion.
Love has ravished me.
And I've cried this world, the heavens,
time itself are mine to conquer!
And I've thrust forth mine arm
to wear thy shield forever!
And for thy shield,
thou givest me a mirror,
and whisperest, know thyself!
Thou art a scarecrow.
A tinkling clod.
A rigmarole of dust.
At least I thank thee, God.
At least thou hast vouch-safe
to me to know myself.
Scarecrow.
Scarecrow.
Scarecrow.
- [Scarecrow] Scarecrow!
Scarecrow!
Scarecrow!
(thoughtful music)
What face are you high up
between the twinkling leaves?
Do you not like all the rest
turn aghast your eyes away from me?
Oh, beautiful face.
You are Rachel's, and
you've changed the world.
Nothing is mean, nothing is loathsome.
But you have changed it to loveliness.
That even this shadow of a mockery
gives me the dear assurance I am a man.
[Scarecrow] A very pretty sophistry.
What voice has snatched you from me?
- A most poetified pumpkin.
- Thing?
Dost thou speak at last?
My soul abhors thee.
- [Scarecrow] (laughs) I am thy soul.
Thou liest!
Our daddy Dickon and our mother Rickby
begot and conceived us at
sunrise in a Jack-o-lantern.
- Thou liest!
Thou art but a phantom in a glass!
- Why, very true.
So art thou.
We are pretty phantom in a glass.
- It's a lie.
It's a lie.
I am no longer thou, I feel it.
I am a man.
- And prithee, what's a man?
Man's but a mirror wherein
the imps and angels
play charades, make faces, mope
and pull each other's hair.
'Til crack!
The sly urchin death shivers the glass,
and the bare coffin
boards show underneath.
- Yay, if it be so, thou coggery.
If both of us indeed be but illusions,
let's end together now.
But if it be not so, then let me
forever more be free of thee.
Now is the test.
The glass.
I'll play your urchin
death, and shatter it!
Let's see what shall survive!
- I wouldn't really.
- Dickon.
Dear, Dickon.
Is it you?
- [Dickon] Yes, Jackie, it's dear Dickon,
and I really wouldn't.
- Wouldn't what?
- Sweep the cobwebs off the sky
with thine aspiring broomstick.
When a man questions
fate, it's bad digestion.
When a scarecrow does it, it's bad taste.
- Dickon, at least
you'll tell me the truth.
Am I then, that thing?
- You mustn't be so skeptical.
Of course you're that thing.
- Oh! Oh, God.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Why didst thou ever look upon me?
- I'm afraid Jackie,
thou hast never studied
a woman's heart and hero worship.
Take thyself now.
I was remarking only this
morning to thy mother Goody
when I was chucking her by
pate from off the hayloft.
That wouldst make an Alexander
or a Mark Antony before night.
- Cease, cease, in pity's name!
You don't know the agony
of being ridiculous!
- Nay, all mortals are ridiculous.
Like you, they are rummaged from the muck.
Like you, they should
return to the dunghill.
And I advise 'em, like you, to
enjoy the interim and smoke.
- This pipe.
This ludicrous pipe that I
forever set to my lips and puff.
Why must I, Dickon?
Why?
- To avoid extinction, merely.
You see, Jackie, it's just as that fellow
in the mirror has explained.
You yourself are the subtlest of mirrors,
polished out of pipe smoke and pumpkin.
Into that mirror, the fair Mistress Rachel
has projected her lovely image,
and so provided you with
what men call a soul.
- Then, then I have a soul?
Mistress Rachel has indeed made me a man.
- Oh, don't flatter thyself, Jackie.
Break thy pipe and whiff.
So, Mistress Rachel, man, truth,
this pretty world itself
go up in the last smoke.
- No, no, not Rachel.
- Mistress Rachel exists for you
merely in your lordship's pipe bowl.
- Then all, all is lost to me.
- Paradise lost again.
They're always blaming it on me.
There was that gaunt fellow in England,
recently wrote a parody on me
when I was in the apple business.
Good verse, too, for a parody.
Farewell, thou happy fields,
where joy forever dwells.
Hail, horrors.
Hail, infernal world.
And thou profoundest hell
receive thy new possessor.
- [Rickby] Dickon!
- [Dickon] Hello, you, Bess.
- There be no moment to lose.
Justice Merton and his neighbors
have ended their meeting
at Minister Dodge's.
They be coming here.
- Well, let 'em come. We're ready.
- But thou toldst me they had discovered-
- See the scarecrow in a mirror?
What of it?
It's bewitched, that's all.
- All?
Witchcraft is hanging, that's all!
The glass was bought of
me, of me, the witch!
Whilst be my hangman, Dickon.
- Let's give me a kiss, Bess.
- But how wilt thou explain that?
- Shh, trust me and thy son.
When Mistress Rachel
is thy daughter-in-law
all will be safe, for the Justice
will protect his niece's family.
- But when he knows that-
- Shh, but he will not know.
How can he?
When the mirror's declared a fraud,
how can he or anyone know that we made
this fellow out of rubbish?
Who, but a poet, forsooth
thought, the devil,
would even believe it?
You mustn't credit men with
our imaginations, my dear.
- Will bring me through this safe?
- As I adore thee, and my own reputation.
- I see their lanterns down the road.
- Stay, marchioness.
His lordship, my lord, your lady mother!
- Your servant, my son. (laughs)
- [Ravensbane] You lie, both of you.
I was born of Rachel.
- Tut, tut, Jackie.
You mustn't mix up mothers
and prospective wives
at your age, it's fatal!
- Gah! They're coming.
- Shh, fear not.
I'll follow thee.
- She's coming.
Rachel's coming.
And I may not look upon her.
- Eh, why not?
- Because I am a monster!
- Fie, fie, Jackie.
Thou shalt have her.
- Have her.
- For lover and wife.
- For wife?
- For wife and all.
Thou hast but to obey.
- Who will do this for me?
- I.
- Dickon would make me
a man and worthy of her?
- Fiddle-dee-dee, I make
over no masterpieces.
No, your mistress shall be Cinderella,
and drive to the palace with her pumpkin.
- No.
- What, thou wilt not?
- No. Never.
- Harkee, manikin.
Hast thou learned to suffer?
- Yes.
- I taught thee.
Shall I teach thee further?
- Thou canst not.
- Cannot, huh?
What if I should teach Rachel, too?
- Rachel?
Now I know thee.
- Flattered.
- Devil!
Thou wouldst not torment Rachel.
- Not if my lord-
Speak, speak.
What must I do?
- Be silent, and not speak,
and acquiesce in all that I say.
- I'll be silent.
- And acquiesce.
I will
be silent.
(crowd murmuring)
- Lord, be thou present with
us in this unholy place.
- [Group] Amen.
- [Dickon] Friends, have you seized her?
- Stand you from us!
- Sir, the witch!
Surely, you would not let her escape.
- [Group] Witch?
- [Dodge] A witch?
What witch?
- A dame in a peaked hood.
She but now fled this house.
She called herself Goody Rickby.
- [Male] Goody Rickby!
- Yea, mistress, yes, and
confessed all the damnable art,
by which all of us had
been so lately terrorized.
- She's confessed what?
- Ay, well, what said she?
- This.
It seemed that for some time past
she hath cherished vengeful thoughts
against our honored host Justice Merton.
- Ay, he hath often
righteously condemned her.
- Precisely.
And so in revenge, she hath
bewitched yonder mirror,
and this morning, unlawfully,
inveigled this sweet, young
lady into purchasing it.
- Mistress Rachel!
- Girl, didst thou purchase that glass?
- Yes.
- [Dodge] From Goody Rickby?
- Yes.
Richard.
- But the image, what was that
damnable image in the glass?
- It was a familiar devil of hers, sir.
A sly imp who wears two mortal eyes
the shape of a scarecrow.
It seems she commanded this
devil to reveal himself
in the glass in the lord's own image,
that doth she might wreck
Justice Merton's family felicity!
- Oh, infamous!
- Indeed, sir, and it was this very devil
who but now she stole
here to consult withal,
when she encountered me, attendant here
upon my poor prostrate lord,
and held by the wrath in my
eye, she confessed it all!
- Thunder and brimstone!
Where is this accursed hag?
- Gone, gone!
If you had but stopped her!
- I know her den, the blacksmith shop.
Come, we'll seize her there.
Honored friends, come with us!
Heaven and her angelic
host shields the innocent!
Come!
- [Dodge] Ay.
- [Charles] Ay!
- So, dear friends, this strange incident
is happily elucidated.
Bygones therefore, be bygones.
The future brightens with orange blossoms.
Hymen and Felicity stand
here with us together
ready to unite these bashful lovers.
His lordship is reticent.
Yet you alone, of all beautiful
ladies, Mistress Rachel-
Silence!
- My lord-
- Silence!
Dare not speak to her!
- My babe is weaned.
- My lord, if I have made you suffer-
- Rachel.
- Gracious lady.
Please, look not upon me.
If I dare now speak one more time to you,
it is because I would
have you know, forgive me,
that I love you.
- Sir!
This lady has renewed her
promise to be my wife!
- Your wife or not, I love her.
- Sir!
- Please, hear me.
For one day, I've gazed upon your world.
A million forms of
stones, of trees, of men,
of common things have
swum before mine eyes.
But only one was wholly beautiful.
That form was Rachel.
To her alone, I wasn't ludicrous.
To her, I also was beautiful.
Therefore, I love her.
- My lord-
- And what is love?
The night and day of the
world, the all of life.
Mistress, mother, wife.
I love you.
- My lord, I can only
reply for Mistress Rachel,
that you speak like one who
does not understand this world.
- Do you?
If so, tell me before it's too late.
Why in this world such
a thing as I can love,
and speak of love?
Why in this world a true man and woman
like you and your betrothed can look upon
this counterfeit and be deceived?
- Counterfeit?
- Counterfeit?
- Me, on me.
- Why, are you not Lord Ravensbane?
- No, I'm not Lord Ravensbane.
I am a nobleman of husks,
bewitched of a pumpkin.
I am Lord Scarecrow.
- Oh, me, then the image
in the glass was true!
- Remember, if you dare.
Rachel shall suffer for it.
- You lie.
She is above your power.
- Still, thou darest not.
- Fool, I dare!
Mistress?
This pipe, this little pipe is I.
If I should break it, this
of me that stands before you
would sink gentle to
the floor, a scarecrow.
See?
(wood breaking)
(eerie music)
(Rachel gasps)
I break it.
Oh, Rachel.
If I could've been a man.
- Richard.
Richard.
My lord!
Look, the glass!
- Who's there?
It's yourself, my lord.
'Tis the glass of truth.
(gentle music)
- A man.
(whimpers)
(Rachel gasps)
- Dead.
- But a man.
(solemn music)
(thoughtful music)
- Honored friends, come with us!
Heaven and her angelic
host shields the innocent!
Come!
- So, dear friends, this strange incident
is happily elucidated.
Bygones, therefore be bygones.
The future brightens with orange blossoms.
Hymen and Felicity stand
here with us together
ready to unite these bashful lovers.
His Lordship is reticent.
Yet you alone of all beautiful
ladies, Mistress Rachel-
- Silence!
- My Lord-
- Silence!
Dare not speak to her.
(eerie music)
(metal hammering)
- Dickon, more flame!
- [Dickon] Yeah, Goody.
- Oh, nay Dickon, so fierce.
- [Dickon] (speaking in foreign language)
Is that better?
- Oh, it will do.
Hey, be quick work.
Yeah.
There be nothing like
brimstone for the smithy trade.
Yeah, now I got me a stout set of ribs
will withstand any nor'easter that blows.
I've no notion to lose
my corn crop this summer.
(crows cawing)
Oy.
You'll be up up before
me and the sun daily!
One, two.
One for sorrow, two for mirth!
Oh, Dickon, we'll have the
laugh on our side this summer.
Dickon, more flame, where be thy wits?
- [Dickon] 'Tis early, dame.
- All the more need.
- [Dickon] Ow, ow, ow!
- Now, have I got thee, Dickon!
- Oh, deus!
I haven't been nabbed like that
since Saint Dunstan
tweaked me by the nose!
Well, sweet Goody?
- The bellows, Dickon.
- But 'tis hardly dawn yet.
Honest folks are still abed.
It makes for a long day.
- Aye.
The more time for your pets
the black crows to play in.
You heard 'em before.
That's why we must get this
scarecrow out before sunrise.
There.
We've made a fine body
to withstand the weather.
Now, you must make it look
lifelike to fool the crows
and make 'em think there's
a real human critter.
- The fool philosophies is
my specialty, but the crows--
- That staggers thee, does it
- Prod not the quick of
my genius, Madame Rickby.
I am Phidias, I am
Raphael, I am the Lord God.
Here, I'll show thee.
Yonder broomstick!
There, ha!
Ha!
Giddy up, my Salem mare!
A broomstick, that's for imagination.
We're all pretty artists,
to be sure, Bess.
Phidias, he sculptures the gods.
Raphael, he paints the angels.
The Lord God, he created Adam, and Dickon?
Yonder poker.
Dickon!
What doth Dickon, huh?
He nullifies them all.
He endows the scarecrow.
Poker, fines.
That's for conscience.
There's two fine legs to stand on.
Imagination, and conscience.
Yonder flails.
The ideal, the beau ideal, dame,
that's what we ought to seek.
The apotheosis of scarecrows.
And prithee, what is a scarecrow?
'Tis the antithesis of Adam.
"Let there be candles",
quote the Lord God,
sitting in the darkness.
Let there be candle
extinguishes, saith Dickon.
"I am created in the image
of my maker", quoth Adam.
"Look at thyself in the glass,"
saith Goodman Scarecrow.
Fine, fine, here are flails.
One for wit, t'other for satire.
Simplicity with two such arms, my lad,
how they'll work thy
way through the world.
- Thou talks as if though we're making
a real mortal, Dickon.
- To fool the crows, Goody,
I must fashion the critter
that'll first deceive a man.
- Scarce do that without a head.
Oh, what say you to housey jack-o-lantern?
- Ay, rare, my psyche!
We shall collaborate!
Now...
- Oo.
- We stain!
Cob, carrots, beets, turnips!
The anatomy!
- Look!
- Oh, Johannes Baptista.
What wouldst thou have
given for such a head?
I helped Salome cut his off, dame,
and was not half so
appetizing on her charger.
Tut, Copernicus once had such
a pumpkin, but 'tis rotten.
Look at his golden smile!
Hail, Phoebus Apollo!
- 'Tis the finest scarecrow in town.
- Nay, it is but a skeleton yet.
Must need to have the heart of a man.
Oo, Goody.
Dost hear it beat?
- (laughs) Thou merry rogue.
- Now, for the lungs of him, billows!
That's for eloquence.
He'll preach the black
knaves a sermon on theft.
Here goes, Goody, for digestion
and inherited instincts!
Now he'll learn to fight
for his own flesh and blood.
- Oh, Dickon I'll really be proud to thee.
- Aye, wait, wait 'til you see his peruke.
Voici, scalps of the enemy!
Oh, rare conqueror.
- Beauty!
- And now for a little comfort
on dark days and stormy nights.
I tell thee, Goody, with
yonder brand-new coat of mine,
he'll make a lad we should be proud of.
Why, he'll be a son to thee.
- Aye, aye, if I had but had a son.
- Why here thou hast him.
Thou't scare the crows
from my mother's cornfield,
won't, my pretty?
And send them over to other side the wall
to thee a neighbor's
Justice Gilead Merton's.
- Justice Gilead Merton.
So they would peck out his
eyes instead of his corn.
- And yet the Justice was a
dear friend to Blacksmith Bess.
- Aye, Blacksmith Bess!
If I had a stout arm when
he cast me off and the babe,
guess I should have starved
for all his worship cared.
- True, it was a scurvy
trick he played upon thee,
and upon me, too, who took such pains
to bring you two together.
To steal the heart of a young girl.
- Aye, to toss it away like
a bad penny in the gutter,
and the child to die.
- If I could get my hands
on that worshipful Justice.
Oh, but no.
No, I shall beat out
my heart on this anvil.
Whilst his worshipful
Justice clinks his coin
and drinks his port to a ripe, old age!
Justice!
Justice of God!
- Whist, dame!
Speak of the angels and hear
the rustle of their relatives.
- His niece, Mistress Rachel Merton.
Why comes she so early?
She could...Nay, I mind
me, 'tis the mirror.
Oh, she's a maid after our own hearts.
None of your Sabbath-go-to
meeting airs about her, nay.
No, she hath read the book
of the magi cover to cover
and paid good guineas for it.
Not her uncle knows on't.
Besides, Dickon, she be in love.
- [Dickon] With him?
A rendezvous?
- Be gone.
- Thou naughty rogue.
(expectant music)
- Mistress Rachel Merton!
Why so early?
I pray his lordship,
your uncle, be not ill.
- My uncle?
No, my uncle is well.
The early morning suits
me best for a walk.
- [Rickby] I see.
- Are you quite alone?
- Oh, quite alone, mistress.
There be nobody come visit Goody Rickby,
except in odd business.
- Yes, you must be busy.
Is it, is it here?
- You mean the glass-
- (gasps) Who's that?
- Oh, fear not.
'Tis but a scarecrow,
mistress, for cornfield yonder.
The crows be so pesky this year.
- Oh, how loathsome.
- Aye, he'll do.
- Here, this.
This is the mirror.
- Aye, it is the glass I told you about.
Oh, I would not sell it to most comers,
but seeing how you and Master Talbot-
- Yes, that will do.
- Why if the town folk guessed
what it could really do?
You've heard tell of the
gibbets on Salem Hill?
Well, there be not many in New
England like you, mistress.
Nay!
No, you approve miracles
outside the scriptures.
- Oh.
Well, will the glass do all you say?
- Aye.
- It never fails?
- No, mistress, no!
'Tis the glass of truth!
The glass of true lovers.
It shows folk as they really be.
No sham, no varnish!
Listen, if there be a black
wolf in a white sheep's wool,
this glass shall pluck out
the black beast inside it.
- The black beast?
- [Rickby] Aye.
- Well, what of the
sins of the soul, Goody?
Vanity and hypocrisy, and inconstancy.
Will it surely reveal them?
- If it do not that, bring it
back and get your money again!
Oh, nay, mistress!
Trust me, pretty sweeting!
An old dame hath eyes in her heart yet!
If thy lover be false, this
glass shall pluck out, too,
his fine feathers.
- Oh, 'tis no question of that.
I wish the glass to amuse me.
- Aye?
Why, then try it on
some of your neighbors.
- You ask a large price for it.
- Well, I run risks!
Where else could you get such a glass?
- Well, that's true.
All right, I will buy it.
I believe this is the
price that you mentioned.
- I'll see, I'll see.
Let's see.
Mistress?
(Rachel mumbling)
Hear me!
Folks call me a witch.
Well, a witch's word is
good as justice gold.
Take the glass with my blessing!
- Spare yourself that, dame.
Oh, but the glass, how will
you get it to me quietly?
- Oh, I have a neighbor boy
that does errands for me.
Ebeneezer!
- [Rachel] What? He's here?
- Ah, the boy's an orphan.
He sleeps in the hayloft at times.
Ebeneezer!
- Evening?
- You understand, I desire
no comment on this purchase.
- Nor I neither, mistress, to be sure.
- Well, is he trustworthy?
- [Rickby] Trust his wits who hath no wit.
He be mum.
- [Rachel] Oh.
- Job?
- Yeah, rumple-head.
This morning thy job is
to take yonder mirror
to Justice Gilead Merton's house.
The big one, top of the
hill, by the side door,
and mind, no gabbing.
There doth he catch?
- 'E swallows.
- Is the boy strong enough?
- Him? Ebeneezer?
(Ebeneezer spits)
- Gracious!
- Trust him to take the glass for ya.
- I will return home at once, then.
Let him go quietly to the
side door and wait for me.
Good morning!
Richard!
- Good morning.
- Oh, Squire Talbot.
You're abroad early.
- As early as Mistress Rachel.
Is it pardonable I caught
sight of you walking
in this direction, so I thought
it wise to follow lest you-
- Very kind, thanks.
We'll return home together, then.
You will make sure that
I receive the article?
- Trust me, mistress.
- What article?
- [Rickby] Begging your pardon, sir.
- What article? I said.
- Oh, the article?
It's a quaint, old glass
yonder, to be sure.
- Rachel, you haven't come here
at sunrise to buy this thing.
- Verily, this thing.
And at sunrise, a pretty
time for a pretty purchase.
Are you coming?
- More witchcraft nonsense.
Do you realize this is serious?
Of course, but you know I
am desperately mystical,
so pray, let us not discuss it.
Goodbye.
- Rachel, just a moment!
If you want a mirror, you
shall have the prettiest one
in all of New England, or I
will import you one from London,
only I beg of you, don't buy stolen goods!
- Stolen goods?
- Don't, please don't.
- Can you account for this
mirror, how you came by it?
- I'll show you stolen goods.
- Come on, swindler.
Keep your mirror, and give
the lady back her money.
- I damn you with your stolen goods.
- Will you come?
- Look you, old Rickby.
This is not the first time.
Charm all the broomsticks
in town you like.
Bewitch all the tables, and saucepans
and mirrors you please,
but gull no more money
out of young girls!
Mind you, we're not so enterprising
in this town as at Salem
but it may come to it, so look sharp!
I'm not blind to what's going on here.
- Not blind, are you, Master Puritan?
You see through my counterfeits?
You would scrape all the
wonder out of the world
as I scrape the meat out
of that pumpkin head!
Well, look sharp, master!
Afore sundown, I'll
send you a nut to crack.
Will make your orthodox jaws ache!
Your servant, Master Deuteronomy.
- We'll go.
- Trot away, you pretty team!
Toss your heads!
I'll unhitch you and
take off your blinders!
Your stolen goods.
(Dickon laughing)
Dickon, stop laughing!
- Oh, Lord, Lord.
- [Rickby] What tickles thy mirth now?
- For to think that the
soul of an orphan innocent,
but lives in a hayloft-
Should wear horns! (laughs)
- Ay, 'tis a wise devil knows
his own face in the glass!
(Rickby mumbling)
Must find a rival for
that cock-squire there.
One that shall steal
away the heart of Rachel.
- And bring her to church?
- To church or to hell!
It's all one to me!
- A rival, eh?
Oh, how would he serve
in there, dear Ebeneezer?
Fancy the deacons of the vestry, Goody,
when they see him escorting
the bride to the altar
with his tail around her waist!
- Oh, think it over in earnest!
Take her the glass.
Oh, mind!
Make it small so as to
attract no notice on the road.
- For Richard a rival, dear
Rickby wants Dickon's connival?
Lord!
What can the trick be?
Pow!
(eerie music)
Bye-bye, Sonny.
Take care of thy mother.
- Aye, mind!
Mind the rival, Sir Richard!
(Dickon whistling)
Mother.
(laughs) If I but had a son,
Justice Gilead's in mind to remind him
of merrier times as you
two have forgot. (laughs)
Oo, wouldn't I put a spoke in his wheel!
But no such luck.
No such luck.
- Permit me, madame.
- Him!
Justice Merton!
- Permit me, dame.
- [Rickby] You!
- I have had the honor.
Permit me to entertain suspicions
to rise up early, to follow my niece,
to meet just now Squire Talbot,
to hear his remarks concerning you, dame.
To call here, permit me to
express myself, to inquire-
- Concerning your waistcoat!
- Woman.
- The one you left last time.
- I have not had the honor to remember.
- The one I embroidered.
- 'Tis a matter of...
- Two and 20 year ago.
Let's try it on now, dearie.
- Unconscionable.
Unconscionable witch!
- Witchling, you used to say.
- Pah, pah!
Permit me, I forget myself.
Pride permit me, goeth before a fall.
As a magistrate, Rickby,
I borne with thee long,
but as the last straw, however,
that breaks the camel's back.
- Poor, poor camel.
- You have soiled.
You smirch the virgin
reputation of my niece.
You've inveigled her in
the notions of witchcraft.
Already, the neighbors
are beginning to talk.
But 'tis a long lane that hath no turning.
Yea, barely saith the Lord,
as a witch, permit me.
Thou art judged.
Thou shalt hang.
- [Man] Me too?
(foreboding music)
- I beg pardon?
- [Man] Not at all.
- Did somebody speak?
- [Man] Don't you recognize my voice?
Still and small, you know.
Let me out, we'll have a chat.
- This is thy sorcery.
- Aye.
- But I fear thee not.
The righteous man walketh
with God, yea, barely.
Satan, I ban thee.
I will read from the holy scripture.
(firecracker explodes)
- Thanks, it was stuffy in there.
- Dickon! Dickon!
- Oh, hello, Gilly.
Hello, Bess.
- [Gilead] No, no, Dickon.
No, no.
- You mind a little bit
of Auld Lang Syne, Gilly?
A chorus of that night long ago.
Gilead, Gilead, Gilead Merton.
He was a silly head, silly head, certain,
who forgot to close the old bed curtain.
Encore, now!
- No, no.
Mercy, mercy.
No, mercy.
She shall not hang, I swear it!
I swear it, I will not harm her!
I swear, I swear, I...
Is he gone?
Witchcraft.
Witchcraft!
I have witnessed it!
'Tis proved on thee, slut!
Thou art judged, yea, barely!
Thou shalt hang, witch!
- Aye, Gilead!
Aye!
I shall hang on!
Oh, Dickon, oh, angel! (laughs)
If I but had a son.
- Videlicet in law, a bastard.
(speaking in foreign language)
- In law!
In justice!
Worse luck he died.
- More than 20 years ago.
Good, he should be of age now.
One and 20, a pretty
age, too, for a rival.
For a rival?
Arrival.
Marry, he shall arrive, and marry,
and inherit his patrimony,
all on his birthday.
Come to work.
- What rant is this?
- And yet, Dickon, it pains me to perform
such an anachronism.
All this medievalism in Massachusetts.
These old-fashioned flames.
These alchemic accompaniments.
And I've tried so hard to be
a native American product.
It jars.
(speaking in foreign language)
I suppose I'm naturally middle-aged.
I haven't been myself, really, since 1492.
- What be you mooning about?
- I'm reminded of my
old friend in Germany,
Doctor Johann Faust.
He was just such a bag of old
rubbish when I made him over.
Ain't it trite?
You can't teach an old
dog like me new tricks.
Still, Goody.
A scarecrow.
It's decidedly local color.
Come, then.
A Yankee masterpiece.
Behold, madame, your son.
The future affianced of Rachel Merton.
The heir-elect through
matrimony of Merton house!
Gilead Merton II!
Lord Ravensbane!
Your lordship, your mother!
- Can you do it?
- I can try.
- Can you create him
for me and for Gilead?
- I will for a kiss.
- Oh, Dickon!
- Later!
Now, the waistcoat.
- Oh, rare, rare, rare,
he shall go wooing in it,
like his father!
- Come on, stand still,
Jackie, stand still.
So, my macaroni.
Ah, perfecto.
Stay, a walking stick.
- A spoke from the wheel of the
chaise he took me riding in.
(speaking in foreign language)
Oh, Sam Hill, my Latin is stale.
In the beginning, Goody, was the gourd.
- Do it.
- Of these thy modest
ingredients may thy spirit smack.
Flail, flip, broom sweep
(speaking in foreign language).
Cornstalk, turnip talk.
Turn, critter.
Pulse, beat, gourd, eat.
Ave Hellas!
Poker and pumpkin, stir the old junk in.
Breathe, bellows!
Corn cob, crow's feathers to end the job.
Jumble the rest of the rubbish together.
Dovetail and tune 'em.
E pluribus unum!
Devil.
Have I forgotten the hang of it?
Oh, he's lost his pipe!
What's a dandy without his 'baccy?
'Tis thy own grand, Goody.
Brimstone.
Well, without it, he's
not but a scarecrow.
'Tis the very breath and life of him.
So, now, yon hazel switch.
Ah, presto!
Brighten coal in the dust between us.
Whiten soul (speaking
in foreign language).
(eerie music)
Sic!
Sic, Jacobus!
Bravo!
- Puff, manny!
'Tis thy life!
(speaking in foreign language)
- Go it!
(slow cello music)
- See, see his eyes.
(speaking in foreign language)
- Take thy first step, bambino.
Toddle.
(quizzical music)
- Oh! Have a care!
- Well done, Pumpkin Jack!
Thou shalt be knighted for that.
Rise, Lord Ravensbane!
- Oh, see how he bows?
Oh, he smiles.
Like a tik-doo-loo-roo.
He flaps his flails at thee!
- Oh, will his lordship
deign to follow his tutor?
- Oh.
Oh.
Lord, the style of the broomstick!
- Will his lordship be
seated and rest himself?
Oh, he's dropped his pipe.
Thou must puff, boy.
Puff.
'Tis thy life.
Does his lordship find
his tobacco refreshing?
- Look, red is in his cheeks.
The beet juice be pumping.
- Will his lordship deign
to receive an audience?
The Marchioness of
Rickby, your lady mother,
entreats leave to present herself.
- My son.
(speaking in foreign language)
- Speak.
(speaking in foreign language)
Accost thy mother!
- Mother!
- Oh (speaking in foreign
language) I shall die!
- Thou hast thy son.
- Thou calls me mother.
Speak again, boy, speak again.
- From the bottom of my heart.
Mother?
- "From the bottom of my heart, mother."
Oh, thou killest me.
- Permit me,
madame.
- Oh, Gilead, Gilead himself!
Waistcoat, permit me, and all!
(laughs) 'Tis thy father all over again.
- It give me, I assure you, lady.
The deepest happiness.
- Just so the old hypocrite spoke to me
when I told him I'd have him. (laughs)
Oh, but thou, thou hast a
sweeter deference, my son.
- And now, my lord, your tutor is ready.
- I have the honor to
wish you good morning.
- Whoa, Jackie!
Whither away!
- Deign to reply, sir.
- I go with my tutor, Master Dickonson,
to pay my respects to his
worship, the Justice Merton,
to solicit the hand of his
fair niece, Mistress Rachel.
Permit me.
- Permit ye?
I beseech ye!
Thou wilt teach him his trick, Dickon.
- Trust me, Goody.
On the way to Justice Merton's
I'll play the mother hen,
and I promise thee that our bantling
will be stuffed with compliments
as a callow chick with caterpillars.
Hark!
Your lordship's retainers
acclaim you on your birthday!
They welcome you to your majority!
Listen!
Long live Lord Ravensbane!
- Count 'em.
One for sorrow, two for mirth,
three for a wedding, four for a birth!
Good.
Good luck on thy birthday!
And see how three fly into
yonder Justice Merton's field!
As the crow flies, so the wind blows.
Get thee gone, my boy.
Wed the girl and sting the Justice!
Bless you, my son!
- Mother?
Believe me to be your
ladyship's most devoted
and obedient Lord...
- Ravensbane.
- Lord Ravensbane!
(solemn music)
- [Announcer] And now,
Act II of "The Scarecrow",
by Percy MacKaye.
(solemn music)
- Now, are you willing?
- So, you suspect me of
dark, villainous practices.
- Oh, no, no, foolish Dick.
- Ah, still I am to be tested?
Is that it?
- That's it.
- As your true lover?
- Well, yes.
- Well then of course, I consent.
Every true lover always consents
to the follies of his lady.
- Oh, thank you, Dick!
I'm sure the glass will
sustain your character.
Now, when I draw the curtain-
- Now, what if I be false?
- The glass will reflect you
as the subtle fox that you are.
- And you as the goose?
- Very likely.
(man laughing)
Oh, no, Richard!
Do not laugh.
'Tis very serious.
You do not guess, you do
not dream of the mysteries.
- You pluck at too many mysteries.
Remember our first mother Eve?
- 'Tis is the glass of truth,
and Good Rickby told me-
- Oh, Rickby! Forsooth!
- Shh! Nay, come.
Let's have it over.
(gasps) There you are.
(laughs) Oh, there we both are,
just as we have always
seemed to each other.
True.
Isn't it wonderful?
- Oh, it's miraculous that a mirror
bought in a blacksmith shop
before sunrise for 20 pounds
should prove to be actually a mirror.
- Oh, Richard, I am so happy!
- Happy are thou, sweet goose?
Why then, God bless Goody Rickby.
- Squire Talbot.
Strange words from you.
- Sir, the old witch is
perhaps more innocent
than I represented her.
- Believe me, sir, witches
are never innocent.
(laughs) Oh, my young lovers, permit me.
I was young once myself.
Young and amorous.
- Verily.
- [Gilead] My worthy young man,
my fair niece, beware of witches.
- And Goody Rickby too, brother.
- Well, she will suffer for her misdeeds.
She is proscribed.
- Proscribed?
What is that?
- [Maid] What is this?
- She shall hang.
- Oh uncle, no!
Not merely because of
my purchase this morn!
- What purchase?
- This, I suppose.
- What?
You purchased this mirror
from her and brought it here?
- No, the boy brought it.
I found it here when I returned.
- What? From her shop?
From her infamous den into my parlor?
Call the servant, take it away.
- Oh Gilead!
- Micah, Micah!
Where is that man?
Micah, I say!
- Gilead, I bought it with my own money!
- With your own money?
Wilt have the neighbors gossip?
Would have thyself in my house
suspected of complicity with witches!
- Micah, take this mirror away!
- Yes, sir, but sir-
- Out of the house.
- There be visitors-
- Take it away, I say!
- Visitors, sir!
A gentry!
- [Gilead] Huh?
- Yes, sir.
Shall I show them in, sir?
- Visitors?
This hour in the morning?
Who are they?
- They're strangers, but I should judge
very high gentry, sir.
Lords.
- Lords?
- Yes, sir,
at least one of them.
The other one, the dark gentleman,
he said they left their horses at the inn.
(dogs howling)
- What is that unearthly sound?
- Must be in the cellar.
- 'Tis only the dog howling, madame.
When he spied the gentry, he fled.
He went below.
- Well, show them in.
- Yes, sir. Yes, sir.
- Don't keep them waiting!
Hurry along now!
Lords, huh?
Well, we'll speak of this matter later.
Lords.
Cynthia, think of that.
Lords.
- And in the morning, too.
- Oh, what a fortunate interruption.
Dear Dick, I wish we needn't
meet these strangers now.
- Would you really rather
we were alone together?
- We need only be introduced,
and then we could steal away together.
- Lord Ravensbane!
Marquis of Oxford, Baron of Wittenberg,
Elector of Worms, and Count of Cordova!
And Master Dickonson!
- Oh, believe me, sir.
You are excessively welcome.
I am deeply honored to meet-
- Lord Ravensbane of the
Rookeries, Somersetshire.
- Lord Ravensbane.
- Oh, I am truly honored, sir.
- Truly honored.
- And his lordship's-
- Tutor.
- Tutor.
- Justice Merton, I believe.
- Of Merton House.
Lord Ravensbane, permit me.
My sister, Mistress
Merton of Merton House.
Rachel, Rachel!
Oh, this is a young neighbor of ours.
Squire Richard Talbot.
Richard Talbot of, of-
- Of nowhere, sir.
- Nowhere.
- (laughs) Lord Ravensbane, permit me
to introduce my niece,
Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Lord Ravensbane...
(peaceful music)
- Mistress Rachel Merton.
- Your lordship.
- (gasps) A pipe!
- Gilead, smoking in the house!
- Your lordship has just arrived in town?
- [Dickon] From London, via New Amsterdam.
- [Gilead] Ah.
- Are you ill, Rachel?
- What?
- Your lordship is truly
welcome under my humble roof.
- Your lordship, roof.
- Roof of my father's oldest friend
bestows generous hospitality
upon his only son.
- His only son.
Oh, your father is--
- My father, permit
me, has never forgotten
your unceasing solicitude
for his happiness
in the days of his youth.
- Oh, forgive me.
The few slight favors
I was enabled to render
to your illustrious father.
- Upon quitting my home,
mother mother bade me,
be sure to pay your
respects to his worship,
the Justice Merton, and
deliver to him first,
my father's remembrances, and
secondly, my mother's epistle.
- Her ladyship's letter, sir.
- Oh, a crested seal.
- His lordship's grace, rooks rampant.
- Rooks ram, oh.
Permit me, your lordship.
- Have you noticed his bearing, Richard?
What personal distinction,
what inbred nobility.
Every inch, a true lord.
- He may be a lord, my dear,
but he walks like a broomstick.
- How dare you!
Oh!
- Mistress Rachel?
Permit me.
- Oh, thank you.
- So, Lord Ravensbane and his family
are old friends of yours?
- I never heard the name before, Richard.
- Would you like me to tell your fortune?
- Oh, yes.
- Believe me, sweet lady.
It would give me the deepest pleasure.
- Can you really tell fortunes?
- More than that, I can bestow them.
- Richard?
- Permit me.
I am astonished, overwhelmed!
But is her ladyship really serious?
An offer of marriage?
- Pray read it again, sir.
- Oh.
To his worshipful, the Justice
Gilead Merton, Merton House.
My honorable friend and benefactor,
with these brief lines I
commend to you, our son.
- Our son?
- [Dickon] She speaks likewise
for his lordship's father.
- Ah, in a strange land I entrust
him to you as to a father.
I'm honored, believe me.
I have only to add my earnest hopes
that the natural gifts, graces,
and inherited fortune, fortune?
- 20,000, pounds on his father's demise.
- Ah, a fortune of this
young scion of nobility
will so propitiate the
heart of your niece,
Mistress Rachel Merton, as to cause her
to accept his proffered hand in matrimony.
Well, but Squire Talbot is
already betrothed to my...
Well, well, we'll see.
Matrimony, and thus cement the early bonds
of interest and affection
between your honored self
and his lordship's father,
not to mention, dear sir,
your worship's ever grateful
and obedient admirer,
Elizabeth, Marhioness of R.
Of R?
Of R.
(laughs) Well, believe me, my dear sir,
it's been so long since
my extended travels,
and I visited so many
noble estates, permit me.
It's so awkward I cannot recall! (laughs)
- Not at all, not at all.
- [Ravensbane] Dickon, my pipe!
- Permit me one moment, sir.
I didn't quite catch your name.
- My name?
Dickonson.
- Dickonson?
(laughs) Oh, thank you.
I mistook.
Thank you.
- A compound, your worship.
Dickon-son.
- [Gilead] Dickon.
- Both at your service.
Is he, is he there?
- Bessie's brat, yes.
He didn't die, after all, poor suckling.
Dickon weaned it.
Saved it from balm of Gilead.
Raised it for joyful homecoming.
21st birthday.
Happy son, happy father.
- My, my son?
- Felicitations.
- What do you want?
- Only the happiness of your loved ones.
The joyful union of hearts and hands.
- Oh no, but think of it.
He is an illegitimate-
- Oh, fie, fie, Gilly.
The brat's a lord, now.
- Oh, no, no, no.
Don't repeat it.
Not disgrace now.
No think of that and my niece.
She's already betrothed
to young Squire Talbot.
- Twiddle-twaddle, Gilly.
It's a brilliant match.
Besides, her ladyship desires it.
- Her ladyship?
- Marchioness of Rickby.
- Oh, oh.
Rickby, I'd forgotten.
- Her ladyship has never forgotten.
So, you see, your worship's
alternatives are quite simple.
Alternative one, advance
the suit of my young lord
with your niece as speedily as possible,
and save all scandal.
- Oh, no.
- Alternative two, impede
the suit of my young lord
with your niece, and then-
- No, no, no.
Not disgrace now.
Don't reveal it now, Dickon.
- Good, we're agreed, then.
- Well I, I have no choice.
- Why, true.
We'd ignored that, hadn't we?
- Gilead?
This young lordship.
Why, Gilead, are you ill?
- Not in the least.
Rachel's deportment, my
dear brother, I tell you,
they are fortunetelling.
- Tush! Tush!
- Tush?
Tush, to me?
Tush?
- I am really at a loss.
Well, your lordship's
hand is so very peculiar.
- Peculiar?
- Well, see this line here?
This is the line of life.
- Line of life.
- But you see how it begins so abruptly,
and then it just breaks
off, and ends nowhere?
Same just so with this line here.
The line of love.
- Of love?
So, it breaks?
- Yes.
- Then that must be the heart line.
- Why, Lord Ravensbane, your pulse.
Really, if I am cruel,
you are quite heartless.
I declare I cannot feel your
lordship's heartbeat at all!
- That's because I've just lost it.
(laughing)
- Where?
- Dickon, my pipe!
- Oh, my lord, are you ill?
- Pardon, sweet, young lady.
I must confide in you
that his lordship's heart
is peculiarly responsive to his emotions.
When he feels very
ardently, it quite stops,
hence, the use of the pipe!
- [Rachel] Is smoking then
necessary for his heart?
- Absolutely, to equilibrate
the valvular palpitations.
Without his pipe, should
his lordship experience,
for instance, the emotion of love?
He might die.
- (gasps) You alarm me, sir.
- This is only for you, Mistress Rachel.
We may confide in you.
- Utterly, sir.
- His lordship, you see, is so sensitive.
- You've given it back to me.
Why didn't you keep it?
- What, my lord?
- My heart.
- It's intolerable!
Sir, do you approve of this?
Are Lord Ravensbane's
financials satisfactory?
- Eminently, eminently.
- Then her ladyship's letter appears-
- Charming, charming.
Your lordship, permit me,
will make my house your home.
- My home.
- Really?
My goodness, uncle!
What is this Master Dickonson tells us?
- What has he revealed?
- Why yes, indeed!
- Rachel-
- My uncle is doubtless
astonished to find you so grown.
- I am doubtless
astonished to be so grown.
- You have dared be-
- Let me remark, sir, that your worship
dandled his lordship, as an infant.
- Oh, oh, yes, quite, quite so.
I dandled as an infant merely.
- Well, how interesting.
Then you must have seen his
lordship's home in England.
Do you know that I've heard in England
that ladies followed the hounds?
And sometimes, they even dance.
- Dance, yes!
My mother dances about the altar.
She swings a hammer-
- Your lordship, you lordship!
Pray, check this vein of poetry.
His lordship symbolizes
as an altar and hammer,
a golf stick and tee, a Scottish game
which her ladyship plays
on her Highland estates.
- Oh, oh.
- Who is this magpie?
- Satan, sir.
- Beg your pardon?
- Satan makes you jealous.
- Lord Ravensbane?
I have a rustic colonial question to ask.
Is it the latest fashion
to smoke incessantly
in ladies' parlors, or is it medieval?
- His lordship's health,
sir, necessitates-
- I addressed his lordship.
- In, tn the matter of fashion, sir.
My pipe, Dickon.
- Well?
- Pardon, sir, but the fact is
that my young pupil is sensitive.
The wound from his latest
duel has not yet healed.
You will observe a slight lameness
and occasional absence of mind.
- [Rachel] Oh, a wound in a real duel?
- You, Mistress Rachel
know the true reason.
His lordship's heart.
- Well, well, your lordship,
as you were saying in the
matter of fashion, sir.
- In the matter of fashion,
sir, I am the fashions.
- Insufferable.
- Well, what do you make of that?
- Spoken like King Charles himself.
- Brother, brother, is
there nothing wrong here?
- [Dickon] Your worship.
- Rachel?
- [Rachel] Oh, you?
- You take quickly to European fashions.
- Yes?
Which one in particular?
- Two, smoking and flirtation.
- Jealous?
- Of an idiot?
I hope not.
Manners differ, however.
Your confidences to his
lordship have evidently
not included your relations to me.
- Oh, our relations?
- Since you wish him to
continue in ignorance.
- Not at all.
He shall know at once.
Lord Ravensbane?
- [Talbot] Rachel, stop.
I didn't-
- Mistress Rachel?
- My uncle did not introduce to you
with sufficient
elaboration this gentleman.
Allow me to do so now.
- I adore Mistress Rachel's elaborations.
- Lord Ravensbane?
I beg to present Squire
Talbot, my betrothed.
- Betrothed?
Is it pleasant?
- Are you satisfied?
- More than satisfied.
- Oh, betrothed is not pleasant.
- Not always.
- Mistress Rachel is not happy?
- With him.
- Mistress Rachel will smile again?
- [Rachel] Soon.
- Will you smoke my pipe?
- Shall I try?
- It's very pleasant.
- [Gilead] Rachel?
- Uncle!
- Permit me, your lordship.
Rachel, will you withdraw for a moment?
I wish to speak to his lordship
concerning his mother's,
his ladyship's letter.
That is, if your noble
pupil is not too fatigued.
- Not at all.
I think his lordship will listen
to you with much pleasure.
- With much pleasure.
- And in the meanwhile, if
Mistress Rachel will allow,
I will assist her in
writing those invitations
which her worship wishes
to send in her name.
- Invitations, from my niece?
- To his excellency,
the Lieutenant Governor,
to your very good friends,
the Reverend Masters
at Harvard College, et cetera, et cetera.
In brief, to all those
of your worship's select
social acquaintance in the
vicinity to meet his lordship.
Indeed, it was most thoughtful
of you to suggest it, sir,
and I assure you that my young lord
is most appreciative of
the courtesy you have shown
in arranging the reception in
his honor for this afternoon.
(Gilead babbles)
- This afternoon?
Why Uncle, are we really
to give a reception
for Lords Ravensbane, and will it be here?
- I believe you said yes, sir.
- Quite so, quite so.
Quite so, sir.
- Permit me to act as your
scribe, Mistress Rachel.
- Oh, with pleasure, sir.
'Til we meet again.
- Mistress Rachel.
- I advise nothing rash, Gilly.
The brat has a weak heart.
- Remember, Jack!
Puff, puff!
- She's gone.
- Imposter.
Thou at least shall not play
the lord and master to my face.
I know with whom I have to deal.
If I be any judge of my own
flesh and blood, permit me,
you shall quail before me!
- Didn't smile.
- Affected rogue, I
know thy feigned pauses,
thy assumed vagaries.
Speak, how much do you want!
- Mistress Rachel?
- Scoundrel, mention her name again.
That sweet, that innocent maid.
If thou dost, thou godless
spawn of temptation,
mark me, I will put an end to-
- Beg pardon, I forgot something.
- God, thou art just.
- [Ravensbane] Permit me, sir.
Are you ill?
- What art thou?
- I am Lord Ravensbane, Marquis of Oxford,
Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms-
- Ah.
- [Ravensbane] Shall I call Dickon?
- No, no, no-
- Dickon!
- No, do not call him.
Tell me, I hate thee not.
Thou wast innocent.
Tell me, I thought thou
hadst died as a babe.
Where has Dickon, our tyrant,
kept thee, these 20 years?
- Master Dickonson is my tutor-
- Why has thy mother?
Oh, I know well.
I deserve all of it.
Still, it must not be published now.
I'm a justice, an honored citizen,
and my niece, thy mother
will not demand so much.
- My mother is the Marchioness of Rickby.
- Yes, yes, it was well planned.
A very clever trick.
Twas skillful of her,
but surely thy mother gave commands-
- My mother gave me her blessings.
- Ah, 'tis well, then.
Tell me, young man.
My son, I too, will give thee my blessing,
if thou wilt but go.
Go instantly.
Go with half my fortune.
Go, but leave me my honor
and Mistress Rachel.
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- Oh, surely, think of the disgrace.
You, an illegitimate, and my niece.
She...Think what thou art.
- I am Lord Ravensbane, Marquis of Oxford,
Baron of Wittenberg, Elector of Worms
and Count of Cordova.
- Devil's child!
Boor! Baffoon!
I will bear thy insults no longer!
If thou hast no heart-
- My heart.
- Hypocrite!
You cannot fool me!
I am thy father!
- Father?
- Stand away!
You may break thy heart
and mine and the devil's,
but you shall not break Mistress Rachel's!
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
Smiles are mine.
Eyes are mine.
- Oh, can it be his heart?
He's still.
Oh, not a sound.
Oh, thank God, he is, he is...
He is my son.
Judge Almighty, if he were to die,
may I not be still a moment
longer and make sure?
He's, he's my son.
He's changing.
He's change.
Help, help!
Mistress Rachel!
Master Dickonson!
Cynthia!
Squire Talbot!
- [Rachel] Uncle?
- [Gilead] Lord Ravensbane has fainted.
Bring some wine.
- Micah, wine!
- Stay, his pipe.
Where is his lordship's pipe?
- He threw it away.
- Terrible.
- what's the matter?
Oh!
- He's getting worse!
Where's the wine?
- Look how strange he appears?
- His pipe, his lordship's pipe.
Master Dickonson, it is lost!
- [Dickon] It must be found.
This is a heart attack, my friends.
His lordship's life
depends upon the nicotine.
- Oh, here it is!
Thank God!
Shall I put it in?
- No, not you.
- [Rachel] Sir!
- You let his tutor perform that office!
- Lord!
- [Talbot] Rachel!
- [Ravensbane] Rachel.
- Pardon, mistress, give the pipe at once.
Only a token of affection
can revive his lordship now.
- I forbid it, Rachel!
- My lord.
My lord.
- Give him air, open his coat.
Heavens, what do I see?
Cynthia?
- That waistcoat, that waistcoat!
Brother, hast never seen that before?
- Never, never.
- See he puffs.
He revives.
He's coming to himself.
- At last.
- [Dickon] Look, he's restored.
- Oh, God be thanked.
- My lord, my lord.
Mistress Rachel has saved your life.
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- Do you dare to repeat that!
- Mistress Rachel is mine.
- This, sir, is yours!
- Richard!
- I believe such is the
proper fashion in England.
If your lordship's last dueling wound
is sufficiently healed,
perhaps you will deign a reply.
- Richard.
My lord.
(expectant music)
- [Announcer] We will return in a moment
with Act III of "The
Scarecrow" by Percy MacKaye
on "Hollywood Television Theater".
And now, Act III of "The Scarecrow",
by Percy MacKaye.
(upbeat music)
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- No, no, no, Jackie!
In inflection, a little more lachrymose.
The true sincerity of the heart.
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- Prettily, prettily!
Next.
- Verily, sir, as that prince of poets,
the immortal Virgil has remarked
(speaking in foreign language).
- (speaking in foreign language) next!
- Trust me, your excellency.
I will inform his
majesty of your courtesy.
- No, no, Jackie.
No, his majesty, a little more emphatic.
Remember, you must impress all
of the people this afternoon.
Come now, the retort to the challenge.
- The second, I believe!
- Quite so, my lord.
- Sir, the local person whom you represent
has done himself the honor to submit to me
a challenge to mortal combat.
Sir, in such affairs of
honor, choice of weapons
has ever been the...
- Prerogative.
- Prerogative of the challenged.
Sir, this right of
etiquette must be observed.
Nevertheless, believe me,
I have no selfish desire
that my superior...
- Attainment.
- Attainments in this art
should assume advantage
over my challenger's ignorance.
I have therefore, selected
those combative utensils
most appropriate from
his own humble origin.
Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice.
There are my weapons.
- Delicious!
Oh, thou exquisite flower of love.
How all thy natal composites
have burst in bloom.
The golden pumpkin in thee
to this golden collarette!
Thy mop of crow's wings
to these raven tresses!
Thy broomstick to this lordly limp.
Thy corn-silk to these
pale-tinted tassels.
Truly, in the gallery of scarecrows,
thou art the Apollo Belvedere.
- Mistress Rachel, I may see her now?
- Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wast ever
such an amorous puppet show!
- Mistress Rachel?
- Now let me think.
Thou art wound up my pretty
apparatus for six and 30 hours.
The wooden angel Gabriel
that trumpets the hours
on that big clock in Venice
is not a more punctual manikin
than thou art with my speeches.
Thou shouldst run, therefore-
- Stop talking!
Permit me, a tutor should know his place.
- Nay.
His lordship is beyond comparison.
- She'll come?
I'll see her?
- Oh, pardon me, my lord.
- [Ravensbane] Is it she?
- Captain Bugby, the governor's secretary.
- Good, Squire Talbot's second.
Send him in, please.
- Oh, my lord.
Shall I remove these?
- Drop them and go.
- Sir!
- Go, thou slave!
- [Micah] Yes, sir.
- Here, my lord, read.
You must be found reading.
- She doesn't come! I won't see her!
- Fie, fie, Jackie.
Thou mustn't break thy
Dickon's apron strings
with a will of thine own.
Come.
- Mistress Rachel.
- Be good, and you shall see her.
His lordship was saying,
oh, Captain Bugby.
Captain Bugby, sir, at
Lord Ravensbane's service.
- [Dickon] I am Master
Dickonson, his lordship's tutor.
- Happy, sir.
- My lord, this gentleman waits
upon you from Squire Talbot.
In regard to the challenge
of this morning, I presume?
- The second, I believe!
- Quite so, my lord.
- Sir, the local person whom you represent
has done himself the honor to submit to me
a challenge to mortal combat.
Sir, in such affairs of
honor, choice of weapons
has ever been the pre-gative
of the challenged.
Sir, this right of
etiquette must be observed.
- Indeed, yes-
- Do not interrupt.
Your lordship observed?
- Observed.
Nevertheless, believe me,
I have no selfish desire
that my superior attainments in this art
should assume precedence over
my challenger's ignorance.
I have therefore, selected
those combative utensils
most appropriate to his own humble origin.
Permit me, sir, to reveal my choice.
There are my weapons.
- These, my lord?
- Those.
- But those are flails!
- Flails.
- Flails, my lord?
Am I to understand that your lordship-
- [Ravensbane] Exactly.
- But your lordship, flails!
- My adversary should
be deft in their use.
He has no doubt wielded them frequently
on the floor of his barn.
- But...
Ah, I understand now! (laughs)
Well, your lordship is a wit!
Flails!
- His lordship's satire is poignant.
- Indeed, sir.
So keen that I must apologize for laughing
at my principal's expense.
But your lordship, if
you will deign to speak
one moment seriously, I will take pleasure
in informing Squire Talbot as
to your real preference for...
- Flails.
Flails are final.
I have, permit me, nothing further to say.
- (laughs) What?
Must I really report-
- His lordship's will is inflexible.
- And his wits are incomparable.
I am sorry for the squire,
but 'twill be the greatest joke in years.
Tell me, is it, is...the latest fashion?
- Lord Ravensbane is always the latest.
- Obliged servant, sir.
(laughs) Flails!
(laughs) Your lordship!
Flails!
- Bravo, pumpky dear.
That squelches the jealous betrothed.
Now that all that remains
is for you to continue
to bedazzle the enamored Rachel,
and so present yourself to Justice Merton
as his pseudo-son-nephew-in-law.
- I may go to Mistress Rachel now?
- She will come to you.
Even now, she's reading a poem from you,
which I have left on her dressing table.
- Reading a poem from me?
- With your pardon, my
lord, I penned it myself.
I am something of a poetaster.
I flatter myself that I have dictated
some of the finest lines in literature.
- Dickon, she will come?
- She comes.
- To Mistress R, enchantress.
If faith in witchcraft be a sin,
alas, what peril is he in,
who plights his faith and love in thee,
sweetest maid of sorcery?
If witchcraft be a whirling brain,
a roving eye, a heart of pain,
whose wound no thread of fate can stitch,
how hast thou conjured, cruel witch?
With the brain, eye, heart
and total mortal residue
of thine enamored, Jack Lanthorne.
- Rachel.
- Oh, my lord, how you surprised me.
- You've come again.
- Has anything happened, my lord?
I have been in such terror.
Promise me there will be no duel.
- No duel.
- Oh, I am so gratefully happy.
- Happy, and you look at me, I live.
(slow music)
- It is strange indeed, my lord,
how the familiar world, the daylight,
the heavens themselves have
changed since your arrival.
I never met a real lord before.
You, my lord, must have
met so many, many girls
in the great world.
- No, never.
- No other girls before today, my lord?
- Before today, I wasn't here.
I was born in your eyes.
My brain whirls.
- If witchcraft be a whirling brain,
a roving eye, a heart of pain.
My lord, do you really
believe in witchcraft?
- With all my heart.
- And approve of it?
- With all my soul.
- So do I.
Well, that is, innocent witchcraft.
Not to harm anybody, you know,
but just to feel all
the trembling excitement
and the dark mystery.
You know the way you feel
when you blow out your candle
all alone in your bedroom,
and watch the smoke fade
away in the moonshine?
- Fade away in the moonshine.
- Oh, but we mustn't speak of it, my lord.
In a town like this, all such mysticism
is considered damnable.
But my lordship understands and approves.
I am so glad.
Have you read the Philosophical
Considerations of Glanville?
(speaking in foreign language)
Presignification of Dreams?
What kind of witchcraft do
you believe in, my lord?
- In all of yours.
- Nay, your lordship must
not take me for a real witch.
I only tell fortunes, you
know like this morning.
- I know, you told how
my heart would break.
- Oh, that's palmistry.
That's not always certain.
But the surest way to a prophecy,
do you know what that is?
- [Ravensbane] Tell me.
- To count the crows.
Do you know how?
- One for sorrow.
- Ah, yes!
Two for mirth.
- Three for a wedding.
- [Rachel] Four for a birth.
- And five for the
happiest thing on Earth.
- My lord, how did you ever learn that?
(Ravensbane laughing)
I got it from an old goody here in town.
A real witch-wife.
And if you promise not to tell
a secret, I will show you.
But you must promise.
- I promise.
- Come, then.
I will show you a real piece of witchcraft
that I bought from her this morning.
The glass of truth, there,
behind that curtain.
If you look in, you will see.
But come, I will show you.
- My lord, your pipe.
(Rachel exclaims)
- Master Dickonson, oh, you frightened me!
- So excessively sorry.
- But how did you-
- I believe you were showing his lordship-
- No, nothing.
Nothing at all.
- Why did you come?
- Allow me.
'Tis high time you got to the point, Jack.
'Tis near your lordship's reception.
Woo and win, boy, woo and win.
- Leave me.
- Your lordship's humble, very humble.
- My lord, why do you keep this man?
- [Ravensbane] Why?
- Forgive me, but he frightens me.
- You don't like him?
Then I don't like him, either.
We'll send him away, you and I.
- Well you, of course, but I-
- You be Dickon.
You light my pipe and be with me always.
And I'll live for you, and fight for you,
and kill your betrothed.
- No, no.
- But your eyes say yes.
Mistress Rachel leaves me, but
Rachel in her eyes remains.
Is it not so?
- Oh, my lord, what can I say?
It, it is true that
since my eyes met yours
a new passion has entered into my soul.
I have felt, oh, but 'tis so impertinent,
'tis so absurd in me, a mere girl,
and you, a nobleman of power.
Yet I have felt it irresistibly, my lord,
a longing to help you.
I am so sorry for you, my lord, so sorry.
I pity you deeply.
Oh, forgive me, forgive me, my lord.
Indeed, indeed, it is
so rude, just so absurd.
I do not understand it, my lord,
how so mere and poor a girl
as I can have helped you,
yet I do believe it is
so, for I feel it is so.
My lord, what can I do for you?
- Be mine.
Let me be yours.
- But my lord, do I love you?
- Love, is it a kiss, an embrace?
Then you don't love me.
Is it to nourish, to lift up?
To smile upon a worm?
Then you love me.
- Oh, my lord, do not
speak so of yourself.
Nor exalt me so falsely.
- Be mine.
- Great glory has descended upon this day.
- Be mine?
- Oh, could I but be sure that
this glorious love, oh then-
- It is not love, it is witchcraft!
- Who is that?
Richard!
- You have indeed forgotten me?
Oh, to God, Rachel, I could forget you.
- Permit me, sir.
- Silence!
Against my will, I am a
convert to your own mysticism.
For nothing less than damnable
illusion could so instantly
wean your heart from me to this.
I do not pretend to understand it,
but that it is witchcraft, I am convinced,
and I will save you from it.
- No, go.
Please go.
- Permit me, sir.
You have not yet replied to flails.
- Permit me, sir.
My answer is bare cob.
Thresh this, sir, for your antagonist.
'Tis the only one worthy of your lordship.
- [Rachel] Richard!
- Upon my honor as a man-
- As a man forsooth!
Were you indeed a man, Lord Ravensbane,
I would've accepted your
weapons and flailed you
out of New England,
but it is not my custom
to chastise renegades from asylums
or to banter further words
with a natural and a ninny.
- Squire Talbot, will you
leave my uncle's house?
- One moment, mistress.
I didn't wholly catch the import
of this gentleman's speech,
but I fancy I've insulted him
by my reply to his challenge.
One insult may perhaps
be remedied by another.
Permit me to call you a ninny!
And to offer you swords!
- Thanks, I reject the offer.
- He rejects it.
Well...
- And now, will you leave?
- At once, but one word more.
Rachel, Rachel, have you
forgotten this morning
and the glass of truth?
- No.
- Call it a fancy now, if you will.
I scoffed at it, yes, yet you believed it.
I loved you truly, you said.
Well, have I changed?
- Yes.
- Or will you test me again in the glass?
- No, please go!
- I will go.
I have still a word with your aunt.
- [Ravensbane] I beg pardon.
You said just now that had I been a man...
- I say, Lord Ravensbane,
that the straight fiber
of a true man never warps
the love of a woman.
As for yourself, you have
my contempt and pity.
Pray to God, sir.
Pray to God to make you a man.
- Oh, this is intolerable!
My dear lord,
I do believe in my heart that I love you.
And if it is so, I will
with gratitude be your wife.
That strange, glamorous,
strange darknesses reel
and bewilder my mind.
I, I must be alone.
I must think and decide.
Will you give me this tassle?
- Take it.
(gentle music)
- If I decide that I love you,
that I will be your wife, I will wear it
at the reception this afternoon.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
- Oh God, are you here?
Dear God, I pray,
make me to be a man.
- Oh, Jackie.
Thou shouldst of prayed to t'other one.
- Will you not listen?
- Such a delightful room.
I particularly admire that portrait.
The waistcoat is beautifully executed.
If I were to give him 10,000 pounds-
- Flails, flails in the study!
- Madame, the minister and his wife
have turned in at the gate.
- Guests, is it so late?
- 'Tis four o'clock, madame.
- Micah, move these flails, at once.
- Yes, madame.
Madame, in all my past years
of service at Merton House,
I never waited upon a lord
until today, and madame,
in all my future years of
service at Merton House,
I trust I may never
wait upon a lord again.
- Micah, mind the knocker.
Yes madame, yes madame.
- Rachel!
Rachel!
- And you are satisfied with nothing less
than the sacrifice of my niece?
- Your worship, Minister
Dodge, Mistress Dodge.
- Oh, oh, believe me, this
is the greatest privilege.
- Nay, nay, nay, nay, the
privilege is ours, Justice.
To enter a righteous
man's house is to stand,
as t'were, on the threshold of God.
- Amen, amen.
- My guest, the Lord Ravensbane
will be here directly,
but permit me to introduce
to you his tutor,
Master Dickonson, Master
Dodge, Mistress Dodge.
- Master Dickonson, sir.
- Madame, of all the
professions in the world,
your husband's most allures me.
- 'Tis a worthy one, sir.
- And so arduous, especially
for a minister's wife.
- (laughs) Oh, thank you.
- Lord Ravensbane comes from abroad, huh?
- London.
- Oh, he's an old friend
of yours, I understand.
- From London, yes.
Did I say London?
Quite so, London.
- Captain Bugby!
The governor's secretary.
- Justice Merton, your
very humble servant.
- Permit me, Captain Bugby.
- And Minister Dodge.
Master Dickonson, my good
friend Master Dickonson,
this is indeed.
How is his lordship?
(Dickonson coughing)
Ah, discretion, Mistress
Dodge, your servant.
(Mistress Dodge coughing)
Oh, the latest, the very latest
from London, I assure you.
Ask Master Dickonson.
- These will all hatch
out in the springtime.
(Gilead laughing)
- Really, my good friend,
may I not venture to inquire
how his lordship is in health since-
- Oh, quite, quite.
- [Cynthia] Mistress Dodge.
- I informed Squire
Talbot of his lordship's
epigrammatic retort,
the retort of (laughs),
that reply was a stiletto.
'Twas sharper than a sword
thrust, I assure you.
To have conceived it was inspiration,
to have expressed it, was genius.
- Indeed it is, madame,
but if there were more
like your brother in the parish,
the conscience of the
community would be clearer.
- Ah.
- The Reverend Master
Rand of Harvard College,
the Reverend Master
Todd of Harvard College!
- Oh, permit me, gentlemen.
Oh, this is the greatest honor.
It's most fortunate you should come here
before you return to Cambridge.
- It sticks me now in the ribs.
I shall die with concealing it.
- His excellency should be here directly.
- I cannot understand
what keeps her, Charles.
He has two such charming daughters.
- That would never be countenanced
in the college yard, sir.
Nay (speaking in foreign language).
- (laughs) 'Tis most unfortunate,
but I understand 'tis
the new vogue in London.
- His excellency, Sir Charles Reddington,
Lieutenant Governor,
the Mistress Reddington!
- My cousins.
- Oh, your excellency.
Oh, this is the greatest
honor, I assure you.
- Fine weather, Merton.
- [Girls] Justice Merton.
- Young ladies.
- Now, where's this young lord of yours?
- [Bugby] My dear Mistress Reddington.
Charming, Miss Amelia.
You two are so very
late, but you shall hear.
- Your pipe, captain, what is this?
- Oh, the latest, the very latest,
I assure you, from London.
Wait 'til you see his lordship.
- Oh what, isn't he here?
- What say?
Traveling for his health?
- Partially, your excellency,
but my young pupil and master
is of a singularly affectionate nature.
(girls laughing)
- What?
Flails, really?
- He has traveled here to
Massachusetts singularly
to pay this visit to Justice Merton,
his father's dearest friend.
- Ah, knew him abroad, eh?
- In Rome, your excellency.
- [Mistress Dodge] Why, I
thought it was in London.
- Oh, well, we traveled
so many places together.
Rome, Lisbon.
- Paris, was it not, sir?
- Huh? Oh, Paris, yes.
Quite so, Paris.
- Lord Ravensbane!
- His lordship's arriving.
Permit me, your excellency.
May I introduce to you-
- Permit me, Mistress
Rachel will introduce.
- Sir Charles, may I present
my friend Lord Ravensbane?
- Lord Ravensbane.
- Trust me, your excellency
I will inform his majesty
of your courtesy.
- Ah, Mistress Rachel.
You are as pretty as ever, I see.
Oh, I say, Bugby.
- Verily, sir.
As that prince of poets, the
immortal Virgil has remarked
(speaking in foreign language).
- His lordship is
evidently a university man.
- My daughters, sir.
Fanny and Amelia.
Lord Ravensbane.
- Your lordship.
- Lordship.
- They're good girls, but silly.
- [Fanny and Amelia] Papa.
- Believe me, ladies, with the
true sincerity of the heart.
- [Mistress Reddington]
Isn't he perfection?
- [Bugby] What said I?
- Believe me, it's beyond all
bounds of custom and decorum.
- Believe me, there's no such flatterer
to a woman's mind as music.
- In this presence?
Never.
- Nevertheless, it will amuse me vastly,
and you will announce it.
(guests chatting)
- Your excellency, my honored friends.
Permit me, his lordship
has condescended to consent
to regale us, our company, with a song.
- [Group] A song?
- [Cynthia] Gilead, what is this?
- It is an old German ballad leader,
last performed by his lordship.
A particular favorite at the
court of the King of Prussia,
and the title, has given it
translation by his tutor.
- "The Prognostication of the Crows".
- [Gilead] Crows.
- [Group] Crows?
- Well, I'm further requested to tell you
that in ancient German heathen mythology,
the crow or the raven is considered to be
the fateful bird of the God Woden.
(guests murmuring)
- Come, come, come, come, come.
It's only a ballad.
It sounds like old England again.
- [Todd] Excellency?
- Oh, sit down, sit down.
Let's have it, Merton.
Yes, but will his lordship
sing without music?
- Oh, his tutor, Master Dickonson
has consented to accompany
his lordship at the spinet.
- [Amelia] Oh, how delightful.
- [Rand] Shall we remain?
- [Todd] We must.
(eerie spinet music)
- My tassle, you don't wear it.
- My heart still wavers, my lord.
Whilst you sing, I will decide.
- Whilst I sing?
My fate is waiting for me
then, at the end of a song.
At the end of a song.
- Your lordship.
- Permit me.
♪ Baron von Rabenstod arose ♪
♪ The golden sun was rising ♪
♪ Before him flew a flock of crows ♪
♪ Sing high, sing high, sing high ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ Ill speed, ill speed, thee baron-wight ♪
♪ Ill speed thy palfrey pawing ♪
♪ Blithe is the morn,
but black the night ♪
♪ That hears a raven's cawing ♪
(crows cawing)
- Do you hear them?
Shh.
- [Amelia] What can that be?
(guests murmuring)
(eerie music)
- Please note, my friends,
the accompanying harmonics.
♪ The baron wrecked not a pin ♪
♪ For the golden sun was shining ♪
♪ He rode to woo, he rode to win ♪
♪ Sing high, sing high, sing high ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ He rode into his prince's hall ♪
♪ Through knights and maidens flowery ♪
♪ Thy daughter, prince, I bid thee call ♪
♪ I claim her hand and dowry ♪
(crows cawing)
- This gentleman's playing is
somewhat ventriloquistical.
- 'Tis more than that, sir.
- It's abyssal.
- [Todd] It is unholy!
- Shall we leave?
♪ What cock is this with crest so high ♪
♪ That crows with such a pother ♪
♪ Baron von Rabenstod am I ♪
♪ Methinks we know each other ♪
♪ Now, welcome, welcome,
dear guest of mine ♪
♪ So long why didst thou tarry ♪
♪ Now, for the sake of auld lang syne ♪
♪ My daughter thou shalt marry ♪
(crows cawing)
(eerie music)
- Smacks of witchcraft.
(woman whispers)
♪ The bride is brought,
the priest, as well ♪
♪ The golden sun was passing ♪
♪ They stood beside the altar rail ♪
♪ Sing ah, sing ah, sing ah ♪
♪ Sing ♪
♪ Woman, with this ring I thee wed ♪
♪ What makes his voice so awing ♪
♪ The baron by his bride is dead ♪
♪ Outside the crows ♪
♪ Are cawing ♪
(crows cawing)
- This is no longer godly!
Justice Merton (speech
drowned out by crows)
- See, I will wear it now.
You yourself shall fasten it.
- Rachel.
- My lord.
- I told you, witchcraft,
like murder, will out.
Lovers, behold yourself.
(Rachel gasps)
- Do not look!
- Too late.
- What?
- Leave me!
Richard!
(women exclaiming)
- Fear not, mistress.
I'll kill this thing.
Fear'st thou me?
What art thou?
Why, 'tis a glass.
Mockest, thou me?
Look, mistress.
It mocks me.
(metal clanging)
(women exclaiming)
Oh.
No.
No.
Oh God, please.
Take it away.
No.
Don't.
Don't look.
It's, it's...
I...
- Witchcraft.
- [Group] Witchcraft!
- [Man] Witchcraft!
Witchcraft!
(solemn music)
(beeping)
- [Announcer] And now, Act IV
of "The Scarecrow", by Percy MacKaye.
(sorrowful music)
- All have left me.
Rachel has left me.
All that I loved, all that
loved me have left me.
But not thou.
If thou art I,
if thou dost feel these pangs thine own,
show themself mercy, speak.
What art thou?
What am I?
Why are we here?
Nay, though thou answer not these doubts,
yet mock them, mock them aloud,
even as there, monstrous, thou
counterfeitist mine actions.
Speak, abject enigma.
Speak, poor shadow.
Thrust not thy mawkish
face in pity toward me.
Ape and idiot.
Speak!
God, dost thou dwell in this thing?
Is it thou that peerest
forth at me, from me?
Between the rise and setting of the sun,
I've walked in this world of thine.
I've been thrilled with wonder.
I've been calmed with knowledge.
I've trembled with joy and passion.
Love has ravished me.
And I've cried this world, the heavens,
time itself are mine to conquer!
And I've thrust forth mine arm
to wear thy shield forever!
And for thy shield,
thou givest me a mirror,
and whisperest, know thyself!
Thou art a scarecrow.
A tinkling clod.
A rigmarole of dust.
At least I thank thee, God.
At least thou hast vouch-safe
to me to know myself.
Scarecrow.
Scarecrow.
Scarecrow.
- [Scarecrow] Scarecrow!
Scarecrow!
Scarecrow!
(thoughtful music)
What face are you high up
between the twinkling leaves?
Do you not like all the rest
turn aghast your eyes away from me?
Oh, beautiful face.
You are Rachel's, and
you've changed the world.
Nothing is mean, nothing is loathsome.
But you have changed it to loveliness.
That even this shadow of a mockery
gives me the dear assurance I am a man.
[Scarecrow] A very pretty sophistry.
What voice has snatched you from me?
- A most poetified pumpkin.
- Thing?
Dost thou speak at last?
My soul abhors thee.
- [Scarecrow] (laughs) I am thy soul.
Thou liest!
Our daddy Dickon and our mother Rickby
begot and conceived us at
sunrise in a Jack-o-lantern.
- Thou liest!
Thou art but a phantom in a glass!
- Why, very true.
So art thou.
We are pretty phantom in a glass.
- It's a lie.
It's a lie.
I am no longer thou, I feel it.
I am a man.
- And prithee, what's a man?
Man's but a mirror wherein
the imps and angels
play charades, make faces, mope
and pull each other's hair.
'Til crack!
The sly urchin death shivers the glass,
and the bare coffin
boards show underneath.
- Yay, if it be so, thou coggery.
If both of us indeed be but illusions,
let's end together now.
But if it be not so, then let me
forever more be free of thee.
Now is the test.
The glass.
I'll play your urchin
death, and shatter it!
Let's see what shall survive!
- I wouldn't really.
- Dickon.
Dear, Dickon.
Is it you?
- [Dickon] Yes, Jackie, it's dear Dickon,
and I really wouldn't.
- Wouldn't what?
- Sweep the cobwebs off the sky
with thine aspiring broomstick.
When a man questions
fate, it's bad digestion.
When a scarecrow does it, it's bad taste.
- Dickon, at least
you'll tell me the truth.
Am I then, that thing?
- You mustn't be so skeptical.
Of course you're that thing.
- Oh! Oh, God.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Why didst thou ever look upon me?
- I'm afraid Jackie,
thou hast never studied
a woman's heart and hero worship.
Take thyself now.
I was remarking only this
morning to thy mother Goody
when I was chucking her by
pate from off the hayloft.
That wouldst make an Alexander
or a Mark Antony before night.
- Cease, cease, in pity's name!
You don't know the agony
of being ridiculous!
- Nay, all mortals are ridiculous.
Like you, they are rummaged from the muck.
Like you, they should
return to the dunghill.
And I advise 'em, like you, to
enjoy the interim and smoke.
- This pipe.
This ludicrous pipe that I
forever set to my lips and puff.
Why must I, Dickon?
Why?
- To avoid extinction, merely.
You see, Jackie, it's just as that fellow
in the mirror has explained.
You yourself are the subtlest of mirrors,
polished out of pipe smoke and pumpkin.
Into that mirror, the fair Mistress Rachel
has projected her lovely image,
and so provided you with
what men call a soul.
- Then, then I have a soul?
Mistress Rachel has indeed made me a man.
- Oh, don't flatter thyself, Jackie.
Break thy pipe and whiff.
So, Mistress Rachel, man, truth,
this pretty world itself
go up in the last smoke.
- No, no, not Rachel.
- Mistress Rachel exists for you
merely in your lordship's pipe bowl.
- Then all, all is lost to me.
- Paradise lost again.
They're always blaming it on me.
There was that gaunt fellow in England,
recently wrote a parody on me
when I was in the apple business.
Good verse, too, for a parody.
Farewell, thou happy fields,
where joy forever dwells.
Hail, horrors.
Hail, infernal world.
And thou profoundest hell
receive thy new possessor.
- [Rickby] Dickon!
- [Dickon] Hello, you, Bess.
- There be no moment to lose.
Justice Merton and his neighbors
have ended their meeting
at Minister Dodge's.
They be coming here.
- Well, let 'em come. We're ready.
- But thou toldst me they had discovered-
- See the scarecrow in a mirror?
What of it?
It's bewitched, that's all.
- All?
Witchcraft is hanging, that's all!
The glass was bought of
me, of me, the witch!
Whilst be my hangman, Dickon.
- Let's give me a kiss, Bess.
- But how wilt thou explain that?
- Shh, trust me and thy son.
When Mistress Rachel
is thy daughter-in-law
all will be safe, for the Justice
will protect his niece's family.
- But when he knows that-
- Shh, but he will not know.
How can he?
When the mirror's declared a fraud,
how can he or anyone know that we made
this fellow out of rubbish?
Who, but a poet, forsooth
thought, the devil,
would even believe it?
You mustn't credit men with
our imaginations, my dear.
- Will bring me through this safe?
- As I adore thee, and my own reputation.
- I see their lanterns down the road.
- Stay, marchioness.
His lordship, my lord, your lady mother!
- Your servant, my son. (laughs)
- [Ravensbane] You lie, both of you.
I was born of Rachel.
- Tut, tut, Jackie.
You mustn't mix up mothers
and prospective wives
at your age, it's fatal!
- Gah! They're coming.
- Shh, fear not.
I'll follow thee.
- She's coming.
Rachel's coming.
And I may not look upon her.
- Eh, why not?
- Because I am a monster!
- Fie, fie, Jackie.
Thou shalt have her.
- Have her.
- For lover and wife.
- For wife?
- For wife and all.
Thou hast but to obey.
- Who will do this for me?
- I.
- Dickon would make me
a man and worthy of her?
- Fiddle-dee-dee, I make
over no masterpieces.
No, your mistress shall be Cinderella,
and drive to the palace with her pumpkin.
- No.
- What, thou wilt not?
- No. Never.
- Harkee, manikin.
Hast thou learned to suffer?
- Yes.
- I taught thee.
Shall I teach thee further?
- Thou canst not.
- Cannot, huh?
What if I should teach Rachel, too?
- Rachel?
Now I know thee.
- Flattered.
- Devil!
Thou wouldst not torment Rachel.
- Not if my lord-
Speak, speak.
What must I do?
- Be silent, and not speak,
and acquiesce in all that I say.
- I'll be silent.
- And acquiesce.
I will
be silent.
(crowd murmuring)
- Lord, be thou present with
us in this unholy place.
- [Group] Amen.
- [Dickon] Friends, have you seized her?
- Stand you from us!
- Sir, the witch!
Surely, you would not let her escape.
- [Group] Witch?
- [Dodge] A witch?
What witch?
- A dame in a peaked hood.
She but now fled this house.
She called herself Goody Rickby.
- [Male] Goody Rickby!
- Yea, mistress, yes, and
confessed all the damnable art,
by which all of us had
been so lately terrorized.
- She's confessed what?
- Ay, well, what said she?
- This.
It seemed that for some time past
she hath cherished vengeful thoughts
against our honored host Justice Merton.
- Ay, he hath often
righteously condemned her.
- Precisely.
And so in revenge, she hath
bewitched yonder mirror,
and this morning, unlawfully,
inveigled this sweet, young
lady into purchasing it.
- Mistress Rachel!
- Girl, didst thou purchase that glass?
- Yes.
- [Dodge] From Goody Rickby?
- Yes.
Richard.
- But the image, what was that
damnable image in the glass?
- It was a familiar devil of hers, sir.
A sly imp who wears two mortal eyes
the shape of a scarecrow.
It seems she commanded this
devil to reveal himself
in the glass in the lord's own image,
that doth she might wreck
Justice Merton's family felicity!
- Oh, infamous!
- Indeed, sir, and it was this very devil
who but now she stole
here to consult withal,
when she encountered me, attendant here
upon my poor prostrate lord,
and held by the wrath in my
eye, she confessed it all!
- Thunder and brimstone!
Where is this accursed hag?
- Gone, gone!
If you had but stopped her!
- I know her den, the blacksmith shop.
Come, we'll seize her there.
Honored friends, come with us!
Heaven and her angelic
host shields the innocent!
Come!
- [Dodge] Ay.
- [Charles] Ay!
- So, dear friends, this strange incident
is happily elucidated.
Bygones therefore, be bygones.
The future brightens with orange blossoms.
Hymen and Felicity stand
here with us together
ready to unite these bashful lovers.
His lordship is reticent.
Yet you alone, of all beautiful
ladies, Mistress Rachel-
Silence!
- My lord-
- Silence!
Dare not speak to her!
- My babe is weaned.
- My lord, if I have made you suffer-
- Rachel.
- Gracious lady.
Please, look not upon me.
If I dare now speak one more time to you,
it is because I would
have you know, forgive me,
that I love you.
- Sir!
This lady has renewed her
promise to be my wife!
- Your wife or not, I love her.
- Sir!
- Please, hear me.
For one day, I've gazed upon your world.
A million forms of
stones, of trees, of men,
of common things have
swum before mine eyes.
But only one was wholly beautiful.
That form was Rachel.
To her alone, I wasn't ludicrous.
To her, I also was beautiful.
Therefore, I love her.
- My lord-
- And what is love?
The night and day of the
world, the all of life.
Mistress, mother, wife.
I love you.
- My lord, I can only
reply for Mistress Rachel,
that you speak like one who
does not understand this world.
- Do you?
If so, tell me before it's too late.
Why in this world such
a thing as I can love,
and speak of love?
Why in this world a true man and woman
like you and your betrothed can look upon
this counterfeit and be deceived?
- Counterfeit?
- Counterfeit?
- Me, on me.
- Why, are you not Lord Ravensbane?
- No, I'm not Lord Ravensbane.
I am a nobleman of husks,
bewitched of a pumpkin.
I am Lord Scarecrow.
- Oh, me, then the image
in the glass was true!
- Remember, if you dare.
Rachel shall suffer for it.
- You lie.
She is above your power.
- Still, thou darest not.
- Fool, I dare!
Mistress?
This pipe, this little pipe is I.
If I should break it, this
of me that stands before you
would sink gentle to
the floor, a scarecrow.
See?
(wood breaking)
(eerie music)
(Rachel gasps)
I break it.
Oh, Rachel.
If I could've been a man.
- Richard.
Richard.
My lord!
Look, the glass!
- Who's there?
It's yourself, my lord.
'Tis the glass of truth.
(gentle music)
- A man.
(whimpers)
(Rachel gasps)
- Dead.
- But a man.
(solemn music)
(thoughtful music)