Blithe Spirit Act 1 Lines

Put my glass down, there's a darling.

She certainly had a great talent for living. It was a pity that she died so young.

You're awfully irritating when you're determined to be witty at all costs, almost supercilious.

That's exactly what Elvira used to say.

Admirable. But if tragedy should darken our lives, I still say, with prophetic foreboding, poor Ruth!

That's probably the Bradmans.

You took her by surprise.

A dry martini, I think, don't you?

Don't be so idiotic.

After all, your first husband was a great deal older than you, wasn't he? I shouldn't like you to think that you'd missed out all along the line.

Oh dear!

An excellent dinner darling. I congratulate you.

There you go again!

As I think I mentioned before, I love you, my love.

I'm not at all surprised. I never imagined, physically triumphant as she was, that she was entirely lacking in perception.

Darling Ruth!

Poor Elvira!

Didn't that light comradely kiss mollify you at all?

Oh, I don't know, being in right at the beginning of something. It gives one an odd feeling.

Do you remember how I got the idea for "The Light Goes Out"?

You're very annoying, you know you are. When I said "Poor Elvira" it came from the heart. You must have bewildered her so horribly.

Don't I ever bewilder you at all?

There wasn't any need. I'm absolutely thrilled. I've only seen Madame Arcati two or three times in the village. I mean I've never seen her do anything at all peculiar, if you know what I mean?

Dry Martini?

Used Elvira to be a help to you, when you were thinking something out, I mean?

Every now and then, when she concentrated, but she didn't concentrate very often.

Was she convinced?

Good heavens, no. She just naturally disliked my aunt and loved making a fool of her.

And if she ever knew, I mean ever recognized, that description of herself. Poor thing... here's to her anyhow.

Have another.

Julius Caesar is neither here nor there.

He may be for all we know. We'll ask Madame Arcati.

I said that cuckoo is very angry. Listen.

How can you tell?

Not exactly old-fashioned, darling, just a bit didactic.

How do you mean?

Oh, I see. Yes of course.

How old is she?

Who knows? It may be receding!

How very true.

How beautifully you put things dear.

I aim to please.

That cuckoo is very angry.

I beg your pardon?

Do you think she tells fortunes? I love having my fortune told.

I expect so.

We're neither of us adolescent, Charles; we've neither of us led exactly prim lives have we? And we've both been married before. Careless rapture at this stage would be incongruous and embarrassing.

I hope I haven't been in any way a disappointment dear.

That's right Edith. Put it down on the table. Yes'm.

I left my jacket in my room, Edith. Would you get it for me?

It's didactic to attribute to one type the defects of another type. For instance because you know perfectly well that Elvira would mind terribly if you found another woman more attractive physically than she was, it doesn't necessarily follow that I should. Elvira was a more physical person than I. I'm certain of that. It's all a question of degree.

I love you, my love.

You can't remember something that was nil.

I remember how morally untidy she was.

It's coming. I've been trying to discourage Edith from being quite fleet of foot. You musn't mind if everything is a little slow motion tonight.

I shall welcome it. The last few days have been extremely agitating. What do you suppose induced Agnes to leave us and go and get married?

Because you imagine that I mind about Elvira being more physically attractive than I am.

I should have thought any woman would mind, if it were true. Or perhaps I'm old fashioned in my view of female psychology.

But she must believe herself mustn't she? Or is this whole business a fake?

I suspect the worst. A real professional charlatan. That's what I'm hoping for anyhow. The character I am planning for my book must be a complete impostor. That's one of the most important factors of the whole story.

Anyhow, it was a question of bad taste more than honesty.

I was devoted to Elvira. We were married for 5 years. She died. I missed her very much. That was 7 years ago. I have now, with your help my love, risen about the whole thing.

I do wish I'd known her.

I wonder if you'd have liked her.

As far as waspish female psychology goes, there's a rather strong vein of it in you.

I've heard that said about Julius Caesar.

But why the Bradmans darling? He's as skeptical as we are. He'll probably say the most dreadful things.

I've warned him. There must be more than three people and we couldn't have the Vicar and his wife because (a) they're dreary, and (b) they probably wouldn't have approved at all. It had to be the Bradmans. Thank you Edith. Steady does it.

I must say, that's a wonderful title.

If this evening's a success, I shall start on the first draft tomorrow.

Every morning regular as clockwork, seven till one.

Is it a novel or a memoir?

Nonsense my dear, I'm absolutely ready. Heigho, Heigho, to work we go.

Is there anything you'd like is to do?

If it's a dry martini yes, if it's a concoction, no. Experience has taught me to be very wary of concoctions.

It is a dry martini.

What happened to it?

It lived with us for years.

The mousse wasn't quite right.

It looked a bit hysterical, but it tasted delicious.

But how extraordinary.

It was obviously a stray that had come in from the street. But I must say I took my hat off to Auntie for producing it, or rather for utilizing it. Even mother was a bit shaken.

I have a feeling that this evening's going to be awful.

It'll probably be funny, not awful.

You know, that's the kind of observation that shocks people.

It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.

What exactly are you hoping to get from her?

Jargon, principally; a few of the tricks of the trade. I haven't been to a seance for years. I want to refresh my memory.

I shall strain every nerve.

Life without faith is an arid business.

Please don't be, it makes everything much more difficult.

Madame Arcati, the time is drawing near.

Then it's not entirely new to you?

Oh, no. When I was a little boy an aunt of mine used to come and stay with us. She imagined that she was a medium and used to go off into the most elaborate trances after dinner. My mother was fascinated by it.

How nice of you to have come all this way.

My dear Madame Arcati.

Darling, it's most awfully strong.

Never mind.

Not yet.

No ice.

Does it still hurt? When you think of her?

No not really. Sometimes I almost wish it did. I feel rather guilty.

Yes'm.

No sign of the advancing hordes?

It might be Madame Arcati.

No, she'll come on her bicycle. She always goes everywhere on her bicycle.

I gather that there were never any tangible results?

Oh, sometimes she didn't do so badly. On one occasion when we were all sitting round in the pitch dark with mother groping her way through Chaminade at he piano, my aunt suddenly gave a shrill scream and said that she saw a small black dog by my chair. Then someone switched on the lights and sure enough there it was.

We're not late, are we? I only got back from the hospital a half an hour ago.

Of course not. Madame Arcati isn't here yet.

She knows, doesn't she, about tonight? You're not going to spring it on her.

Of course. It was all arranged last week. I told her how profoundly interested I was in anything to do with the occult, and she blossomed like a rose.

Neither was Elvira.

Oh yes she was, now that I look back on it. She had a certain ethereal, not-quite-of-this-world quality. Nobody could call you, even remotely, ethereal.

Yes. She had influenza in January. She's only been here just over a year, you know. I must say she was singularly un-psychic then. I always understood that she was an authoress.

Oh yes. We originally met as colleagues at one of Mrs. Wilmot's Sunday evenings in Sandgate.

Wait a minute and see what happens.

Perhaps she didn't hear.

I'm afraid I'm rather late; but I had a sudden presentiment that I was going to have a puncture so I went back to fetch my pump. And then of course, I didn't have a puncture at all.

Perhaps you will on the way home.

I'm sure I should. As you talk of her she sounds enchanting. Yes I'm sure I should have liked her because you know I have never for an instant felt in the least jealous of her. That's a good sign.

Poor Elvira.

It really is very spiritual of the old girl.

Shall I go, or shall we let Edith have her fling?

Suddenly seeing that haggard raddled woman in the hotel at Biarritz. Of course I remember. We sat up half the night talking about it.

She certainly came in very handy. I wonder who she was.

By all means.

She certainly is a strange woman. It was only a chance remark of the Vicar's about seeing her up on the Knoll on Midsummer Eve dressed in sort of Indian robes that made me realize that she was psychic at all. Then I began to make inquiries. Apparently she's been a professional in London for years.

She was originally a Jewess from Odessa of quite remarkable beauty. It was an accepted fact that people used to stand on the seats of railway stations to watch her whizz by.

She was a keen traveler?

There are moments Charles, when you go too far.

Sorry, darling.

She's probably on one knee in a pre-sprinting position, waiting for cook to open the kitchen door.

Steady, Edith.

Poor Elvira!

That remark is getting monotonous.

Was she more physically attractive than I am?

That was a very tiresome question, dear, and fully deserving of the wrong answer.

Poor Charles, then.

That's better.

You really are very sweet.

Thank you.

Yes, sir.

There now!

Lovely, dry as a bone.

To the "Unseen"!

What sort of books does she wrtie?

Two sorts. Rather whimsical children's stories about enchanted woods filled with highly conventional flora and fauna; and enthusiastic biographies of minor royalties, very sentimental, reverent, and extremely funny.

Good God, no!

Wasn't that a shade too vehement?

It's funny to speak of people in the spirit world as being irritable, isn't it? I mean, one can hardly imagine it, can one?

We have no reliable guarantee that the after life will be any less exasperating that this one have we?

Yes, sir.

We might make her walk about with a book on her head like they do in deportment lessons. Here, try this.

Her social life would have been seriously undermined.

We must keep Edith in the house more.

I was told once on the pier at Southsea that I was surrounded by lilies and a golden seven. It worried me for days.

We really must all be serious, you know, and pretend we believe implicitly. Otherwise she won't play.

Yes, darling. I expect Madame Arcati will want something sweeter.

We'll have this one for ourselves, anyhow.

Nonsense, she was of the earth, earthy.

Well she is now, anyhow.

Never for an instant. I know every trick.

Well, all I can say is that we'd better get a divorce immediately.

No, I think it's interesting.

Well, to begin with, I haven't forgotten Elvira. I remember her very distinctly indeed. I remember how fascinating she was, and how maddening. I remember how badly she played all games and how cross she got when she didn't win. I remember her gay charm when she had achieved her own way over something and her extreme acidity when she didn't. I remember her physical attractiveness, which was tremendous, and her spiritual integrity, which was nil.

I wonder if I died before you'd grown tired of me if you'd forget me so soon?

What a horrible thing to say.

And so there was nothing for it but to obey the beckoning finger of adventure and take to the road again. So off she went, bag and baggage, to Vladivostock.

What an extraordinary place to go!

No, thank you. It's just that I make it a rule never to eat red meat before I work. It sometimes has an odd effect...

What sort of effect?

Oh dear!

What's the matter?

How extraordinary it is.

What?

We are old friends, we meet coming out of shops.

Would you like a cocktail?

I know you do; but not the wildest stretch of imagination could describe it as the first fine careless rapture.

Would you like it to be?

And a little naive, too.

Why?

Just knack again. Down with your head, up with your heart, and you're over the top like a flash and skimming down the other side like a dragon-fly. This is the best dry martini I've had for years!

Will you have another?

The reason was becoming increasingly obvious dear.

Yes, but in these days nobody thinks anything of that sort of thing. She should have popped into the cottage hospital, had it, and popped out again.

Do?

Yes, hold hands or anything.

Goodnight, you foolish bird. You have a table?

Yes, we thought that one would do. You told Edith we didn't want to be disturbed?

I really feel quite nervous; as though I were going to make a speech.

You go and meet her, darling.

And later on, Poor Ruth, I expect.

You have no faith Ruth. I really think you should try to have a little faith.

You must promise to not catch my eye. If I giggle, and I'm very likely to, it will ruin everything.

You mustn't. You must be dead serious and if possible a little intense. We can't hurt the old girl's feelings, however funny she is.

Write that down; you might forget it.

You underrate me.

If I died, I wonder how long it would be before you married again?

You won't die. You're not the dying sort.