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Title: Grab and Grace
Date of first publication: 1963
Author: Charles Williams (1886-1945)
Date first posted: June 11, 2018
Date last updated: June 11, 2018
Faded Page eBook #20180626

This eBook was produced by: Delphine Lettau
& the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net




GRAB AND GRACE

  OR

  IT'S THE SECOND STEP

  (Companion and sequel to
  THE HOUSE BY THE STABLE)

  by


CHARLES WILLIAMS




CHARACTERS


  PRIDE
  HELL
  GABRIEL
  FAITH
  MAN
  GRACE




GRAB AND GRACE


     _The scene as before. Enter_ HELL _and_ PRIDE, _bedraggled
     and tired_; HELL _carrying a large bundle_

  PRIDE. No rest? no comfortable house?
  These lands are as empty of homes as our bag of food--
  yet I should know this place!

  HELL. Why surely this--
  yes, look, in this crook of the hills,
  look, here is Man's house once more!
  After this hundred years we have been wandering
  through the malignant lands, to think we have come
  again to your old home. What think you, Pride?
  Might it not be possible to find a rest here?

  PRIDE. Why, it would be worth while to try; I
  and you too were so beshouted and bevenomed
  by that slug-slimy Gabriel that we lost our heads
  and ran too soon. Man cannot have forgotten;
  few do; their faithfulness to me is astonishing.
  Shall we knock, do you think?

  HELL. Prink yourself first.

  PRIDE. This accurst mud!

  HELL. That dress will not provoke him
  under your yoke again.

  PRIDE. Look and see
  if we have anything better in our odds and ends.

     [HELL _opens the bundle, and they poke about: fragments
     fall out_

  PRIDE. I cannot think why we carry all this.
  What is this red stuff?

  HELL. A little of Abel's blood.
  A drop of that in a drink gives a man heartburn.

  PRIDE. And this?

  HELL. Take care; a bit of Adam's tooth
  that he broke on the first fruit out of Paradise.
  He has had neuralgia in his jaws ever since.

  PRIDE. And this--thistledown?

  HELL. The kiss of Judas.

  PRIDE. Judas?

  HELL. You were sick of malignant plague when it happened--
  but the child whom Man sheltered when we had gone
  grew, and grew spoiled, and Judas, one of his friends,
  encouraged Man to kill him in a sudden brawl.
  There is no time now to tell you all.

  PRIDE. All
  meaning that when Man had got rid of me
  things did not go so well as Gabriel thought?
  You fool, Hell, why did you not tell me
  all this sooner?

  HELL. I had forgotten; my fits
  make me dull. We are not what we were;
  neither you nor I have ever been the same
  since the great earthquake and the talking flame.

  PRIDE. Hell,
  did we not hear that Man had a changed heart?
  I am sure that some antipodean rumour
  reached us of his altered humour; that he likes now
  prayer and servile monochromatic designs.
  Draggled decency might better suit us?

  HELL. I will say, looking at our bag, it would be easier.
  May not you be converted as well as he?
  Try that style: [_He grabbles about_] look, what of this?

     [_He holds up a dirty rough cloak_

  How of this for a man's earthenware embrace
  and a chaste kiss? [_She puts it on_] Your very face looks holy.

  PRIDE. What is it?

  HELL. Devil knows; the original figleaves, I should think.
  You will need a belt. [_He holds one up_] Jezebel's?

  PRIDE. My dear, too bright.
  What's that?

  HELL. The cord with which Judas hanged himself,
  afterwards used to tie Peter to his cross.

  PRIDE. That is the very thing; give it here.

     [_She looks at herself_

  I don't know who Peter was, but if
  he was crucified, it is something anyone might be proud of.
  Pride in a nutshell!
  [_She wriggles_] with the shell of the nut inside.
  Hist, someone is coming!

  HELL [_throwing the things in the bag_]. Is it Man?

  PRIDE. No; it's a woman; what the devil--

  HELL. Chut!
  There's Gabriel! Out of sight till we find out more!

     _They hide. Enter_ FAITH, _meeting_ GABRIEL. _She is
     dressed as brightly and sophisticatedly as is possible_

  FAITH. Good-morning, Gabriel: where is my lord?

  GABRIEL. Madam,
  he was in the stables just now, but I think he has gone
  back with Grace to the house.

  FAITH. The stables?

  GABRIEL. Yes.
  He has not been there much since the Holy One died,
  but this morning something stirred.

  FAITH. A word in a song!
  O to-day is such a morning as I love,
  cloudy and cool; one feels rather than sees
  the sun heavenly: he is distilled in the air,
  and my heart filled with his future; in the dawn
  I made a new song, and would fain sing it,
  if Man my lord were free to hear.

  GABRIEL. Madam,
  could he do better than listen to Faith's songs?

  FAITH. Well, to be frank, that depends; but thank you
  for the kind thought. I will go and find him out.
  O loveliness, to feel day in the dawn!  [_Exit_

  PRIDE [_aside to_ HELL].
  And will you tell me who Faith is, and what
  Faith, in that dress, is doing in Man's house,
  and I in this--shroud?

  HELL [_aside_]. Not so loud; hush!

  GABRIEL [_looking round_].
  You need not trouble yourselves to hush; your smell
  would give you away; surely it is Hell and Pride?
  The old obscene graveyard stink; I think
  honest anger and brutal lust smell pure
  beside you.

  PRIDE. Stew-faced bully!

  HELL. Sister, be at ease.
  Once he had power even over us for an hour,
  but not twice thus, not twice.
  Abuse you he may; he cannot turn you away.
  He must let Man choose now for himself.

  PRIDE. Are you sure you are right?

  HELL. Of course----

  GABRIEL. Of course he is right.
  I could be, were angels ever other than glad,
  a little sad to see you with more tricks.
  But now Man has friends if he will,
  and if you can cheat him, why, you must.
  I can do no more than tell him who you are.

  PRIDE. I will tell him that myself.

  GABRIEL. So do.
  You seem perhaps more true than most
  sins to their nature--and so catch more.
  Double temptation when a sin pretends to be truthful.

  HELL. No, sir. We need not trouble you to announce us.

  GABRIEL. No need; here is Man.

     MAN _enters with_ GRACE

  HELL. Now!

  PRIDE. Get away!
  Much better for me to be alone. Man!

  MAN [_to_ GRACE]. We will build then; I have decided that.
  The cottages are clammy; we need several more
  and more to the mind of those likely to live there.
  First, we must find an architect.

  GRACE. O sir,
  I know a fine one, in design and execution
  better than any; all the worlds praise
  his work these many days.

  MAN. Who then is he?

  GRACE. He is called the Spirit; those who know his degree
  add a worshipful title and say the Holy Spirit:
  that as you choose.

  MAN. The Holy Spirit? good.
  We will ask him to come while I am in the mood,
  which passes so quickly and then all is so dull.

  GRACE. Sir, purposes last.

  MAN. Yes, but heavily.
  Madam?

  PRIDE. Man!

  MAN. Do I--ought I--to know...? I have met few
  of your veiled kind; yet----

  PRIDE. Man!

  MAN. By my soul, it is Pride.

  PRIDE. Yes. [_A pause_] Do you grieve?
  Would you have me leave, without a word changed?
  I will, if you say go.

  MAN. No; stay.
  Where have you been? I have not seen you since----

  PRIDE. Since your servant told--yes; they _were_ lies.
  Though indeed I was foolish then, now more wise.
  But to mistake folly for foul thought,
  to drive me out while you slept! Have you sometimes kept
  a thought of me?--no; that is folly again.
  I am professed now to other vows,
  as my dress shows. I have even changed my name
  and am called Self-Respect.

  MAN. What, you are one
  of Immanuel's people?

  PRIDE [_drooping_]. He has a use for all.

     [_She turns aside and gets near to_ HELL; _then aside_

  What was her name? quick, the great sinner,
  the woman.

  HELL. Mary Magdalene.

  PRIDE [_returning_]. Even Mary Magdalene--
  and so for me, who did not (I may well say)
  sin as much as she--and was she more beautiful?
  Once, dear Man, you thought me well enough.

  MAN. It is astonishing to see you; you have not changed.
  The same lovely eyes under that hood.
  It is good to see you once more, my own Pride;
  no, I must call you my own Self-Respect.
  It is what I will try to remember.

     [GRACE _whistles_, PRIDE _and_ MAN _turn away_. GRACE _and_
     GABRIEL _speak to_ HELL

  GRACE. And here is poor old Hell!

  HELL. Little tin trumpet,
  how do you know me?

  GABRIEL. O we of heaven
  know you all. This boy, whom we call Grace--
  he is part of Faith's household, and she of Man's--
  is older than you. Indeed, he does not look it,
  but your travels in the malignant lands have aged you
  more than our millennia.

  GRACE. A thousand years
  being as a day. Poor Hell, time to you
  is a sorry plod-plod; even Man knows better,
  but Hell of all pedestrians is the most tired.
  And why are you here, little brother?

  HELL. What is that to you?
  May we not talk to Man without your leave?

  GABRIEL. Unfortunately, yes.

  GRACE. And is she doing it now!

  PRIDE. And tell me, dear Man, how you are faring in Religion.

  MAN. Well, I am trying to lead the Christian life.
  It is not easy, is it, Gabriel?

  GABRIEL. Sir,
  I do not think you have found it too difficult.

  PRIDE. To lead the Christian life is always difficult.
  How we have to work! digging, building,
  giving alms, prayer. Do you pray much?

  MAN. A good deal. Gabriel, what do you mean?

  GABRIEL. Sir, only that you have been constantly helped.
  This boy Grace does most of the work.

  MAN. I know Grace has been useful, but to say
  he does most--I was up as early as he
  and as bustling round my property.

  PRIDE. That I am sure.
  I know how dextrous and diligent you always are.

  MAN. I will give praise where praise is due, but something
  is due to me.

  PRIDE. Much, indeed.

  GABRIEL. Sir----

  GRACE. Chut, Gabriel; you will never defeat her so.
  Do not argue; make her come out with herself
  quickly; believe me, it is your only way.
  Call Faith; she is better than you at the game,
  and can frame a neater trap, woman to woman. [GABRIEL _goes out_

  PRIDE. It is no credit to any cause not to know
  if one has kept its laws well. Flaws
  will come, but when one has minded laws--why,
  then a certain proper pride may grow.
  I have taken Self-Respect for my new name
  to adjust properly praise and blame, to keep
  myself in mind as a true centre for myself.

  MAN. True.
  One has more belief, so, in what one can do.

  PRIDE. That is it: no weakness, no false meekness.
  This humility is too much praised.
  One may look at oneself, I hope, without sin.
  You, my Man, can keep your thought so poised
  that any noised silliness does not hurt.
  You are pious--good! but it is _you_ who are pious.

  MAN. I had not thought of that. Faith sings
  only about Immanuel and what he does.
  That brings a sense of vacancy sometimes.

  PRIDE. Yes: one needs at first a kind of defence
  against even heaven. Perfection comes slowly;
  and we must not be too holy all at once.

     _Enter_ FAITH _and_ GABRIEL

  FAITH. Good-morning, my lord.

  MAN. Good-morning, Faith.

  PRIDE [_to_ MAN]. This
  is another friend of yours?

  MAN. Her name is Faith.
  She was a friend of Immanuel, the child born
  the night you went.... O well, Pride--
  I beg your pardon; it is old habit in me--
  we need not go into all that now.
  There was a misunderstanding of what he meant
  and a tussle--you, my dear, will understand
  there was something to be said on my side;
  but anyhow--it was all rather unfortunate--he died.
  But he left with me these two friends,
  she and the boy Grace. Let me introduce----

  PRIDE. She will despise me, Man. I am poor
  and of no account, but I have enough respect
  for myself not to push in among the elect,
  among--look at her clothes!--my ostensible betters.

  MAN. Clothes--nonsense. You look very nice--
  quiet and ... becoming.

  PRIDE. Man!

  MAN. Well, I
  have you in my mind as you were when ... but come;
  it suits you. You are my own Self-Respect,
  and this is my own Faith; you must know each other.

     [GRACE _whistles_

  Faith, this is an old friend of mine,
  called--do I say Sister?

  PRIDE. Yes--I suppose,
  Sister.

     [_She clings to his hand and looks deep into his eyes_

  MAN. ... called ... Sister Self-Respect.
  And this, dear friend, is Faith.

  PRIDE. Pleased to meet you.

  FAITH [_coldly_]. Good-morning.

  PRIDE. Is it not a good morning?
  [_To_ MAN] This house was always good in the spring days.

  FAITH. You have known Man a long while?

  PRIDE. Very long.
  [_To_ MAN] Of course, times change; I know now
  you have other friends.

  FAITH. Yes.

  MAN. No.
  You must not say so; at least, if I have,
  I do not forget my old.

  FAITH. It seems not;
  especially when they return in a neat religious
  habit, and are prettily disposed to public prayer.

  PRIDE. What do you mean--public?

  FAITH. I do not mean
  praying with others present, but rather that sedate
  praying to oneself, with oneself too as listener;
  a ubiquitous trinity of devotion the temple-Pharisee
  practised long and successfully.

  PRIDE. At least I
  earned my lodging here by a decent return--
  by something other than songs; night was my time.

  FAITH. Yes; _my_ joys encourage sight,
  accuracy, and reason.

  PRIDE. My kisses were accurate:
  Man enjoyed them and himself and me.
  I did not confine myself to singing him songs.

  MAN. O now, Self-Respect, they are beautiful songs.
  Everyone to his own gift ... indeed,
  you always had beautiful shoulders.

  PRIDE. Have I not?
  as beautiful bare as hers bundled on Sundays?

     [GRACE _whistles_, HELL _creeps towards him_

  I am sorry, Man. I did not mean to snap.
  I had better go.

  MAN. O no, you must not go.
  We shall all be great friends--I, Man,
  and his Self-Respect and his Faith: why not?

  FAITH. His Self-Respect and his Faith! No. Man,
  you must make up your mind. There is a strong feud
  renewed for centuries, from our very making, between
  this lady and myself.

  PRIDE. There is indeed--
  between my pleasure and your procrastination,
  you promising what you do not pay,
  and I paying what I need not bother to promise.  [GRACE _whistles_

  HELL [_to_ GRACE]. Stop that noise!

  GRACE. Noise yourself;
  Adam called the birds on that note
  while you were squeaking and squealing among the crocodiles.
  O crocodiles' guiles and smiles and wiles,
  when Hell styles himself a judge of music.

     [HELL _threatens him_. GRACE _trips him_.

  Heels up, gossamer!

  MAN. Less noise over there!
  Grace, keep yourself quiet in your own place.
  Now, let us agree here to be friends.
  Love puts all ends at one, and spends
  much to do it: come, wine for a pledge.
  Gabriel!

  GABRIEL. Sir, the ladies will never agree.
  If you wish to turn Faith out of doors ...

  MAN. What! my friend's friend! Immanuel's friend ...
  why do you remind me? No; I promised; I am firm.

  GABRIEL. Then send Pride away.

  MAN. O now, Gabriel,
  I owe her, after all, a great deal,
  and she understands me, she soothes me.

  PRIDE. I am not Pride.
  Indeed, Gabriel, I have forgotten all that.
  I am the old woman on the new way:
  look at me, a demure modest Self-Respect;
  nothing spectacular or dishonourable about _me_.
  Of course, I am not _blind_; I cannot help
  noticing where sinners thrive, or where they sin,
  or how parasites and amateur prostitutes are dressed.

  FAITH. The professional always hates being outclassed--
  I agree there: for the word--let it stand.
  Our feud, on my side, is too deep
  to use abuse. I say I will not sit down
  nor eat nor drink nor sleep in the same house
  with--Self-Respect. I do not and will not know her.

  PRIDE. And I--_I_!--used to be called Pride!
  Is this your charity, you over-painted, over-powdered,
  verminous haunch of a hag-bone! you snorting porcupine,
  pet of a fellow whose hands never kept his head!
  Why, you dilly-down doveling, you mincing mosquito----

     [GRACE _whistles_, HELL _runs at him; they dodge out,
     shouting, while_ PRIDE _is screaming and_ FAITH _speaking_

  FAITH. I will not abuse you. I simply will not know you.

  MAN [_shouting_]. Silence! Gabriel, keep the house quiet!
  See what Grace is doing and tell him not to.
  And now, you two, am I to say nothing?
  Am I not to have my own way?
  You shall behave in this house, both of you,
  as if I were someone.

  PRIDE. O Man,
  that is right! keep us in order; send us to prayer.
  Rebuke us! Have I hurt you? O beat me
  if I disturb you! I am only yours--
  and of course God's; but I _am_ wholly yours
  in a new love, if you choose!

  MAN. This fiddle-faddle!
  Argument in, argument out. Man
  will have his way sometimes; if I choose
  you shall both stop with me, stop you shall.
  I will tie you up, Pride!

  PRIDE. Anything, anything!

     [GABRIEL _has been looking out_

  GABRIEL. Sir, look!

  MAN. What is the matter now?
  What are they doing there? who is the fellow?
  Why, it is Hell! Was he here too?

  GABRIEL. He is throttling Grace!

  MAN. He is throwing him into the lake--
  he will drown; it has no bottom. Hi!
  Hell there, Hell, leave him alone!
  Grace, we are coming!      [_He runs out_

  GABRIEL. Sir, Grace can swim;
  indeed, there is very little Grace cannot do--
  for example--get out of a bottomless pit.
  Well, it is proper that Man should run fast
  when heaven seems in danger; heaven has done
  as much for him.

     [_He goes leisurely out_

  FAITH. O sister, sister, now we may talk sense.
  You must find it exhausting always to be
  on guard, watching every word. Myself,
  help though I have and celestial succour,
  I am glad sometimes when my sister Hope
  takes my place for a night; and I can speak
  right and direct; the muscles in my face
  are controlled naturally and not by sheer work
  to please Man's variable moods. Poor Man,
  he is a sweet darling, but O I wish
  he had an adult intelligence.

  PRIDE. You can drop this feud
  when Man is not here!

  FAITH. He is a born mimic,
  and therefore I must refuse to have you here,
  or you would catch him with one or the other ruse.
  Alone, we may leave it to God.

  PRIDE. Why are you so bent
  to have him? he will never do _you_ good.

  FAITH. To obey Immanuel is in my blood; and he
  chooses so. But how will Man serve _you_?

  PRIDE. O yes; when we have him--as we shall;
  you will call one day to an empty house;
  anything else is not possible; well, then,
  while your songs echo and re-echo, none
  to mark them, except perhaps the sun in heaven,
  think that Man is another vagrant I
  and Hell shall sometimes meet where the sky
  has no sun, in the clammy malignant lands
  that Hell once made.

  FAITH. And now finds
  everywhere terribly following him; even here.
  O I know well wherever you go,
  he and you, you sooner or later feel
  the air of the cold iceberg or hot oasis
  breaking into the same clamminess, the same
  disgusting invisible froth against the skin--
  ugh! every wind, every rain-drop,
  every grateful beam crawling and sticky.

     [HELL _creeps in behind her, making signs to_ PRIDE

  PRIDE [_getting nearer_].
  Yes; we shall have a companion then, to bear
  the bag over there of the odds and ends
  we stole out of his house; in a dim mist
  he shall stumble after us, afraid to lose even us,
  or sometimes be pricked by me or kicked by Hell
  forward before us, among the shallow pools
  or the miry grass under the malignant trees
  where the baboons sit and scratch and yowl.
  There with us tramping and trapesing for ever.

  FAITH. Poor wretch! but you haven't ...

     [HELL _seizes her_. PRIDE _covers her mouth_

  HELL. I have thrown Grace into the lake; quick.
  Shove this cloth in her mouth; tie it.
  If we can hide her we may lure Man
  out of his house into the malignant lands.
  Keep him till the sun sets and leave me alone
  to draw him down among the pits and pools.

  PRIDE. Twist her arms behind her: use your fist.

     [HELL _strikes at_ FAITH; _she dodges; he hits_ PRIDE

  Damn! O anyhow: be quick.

  HELL. Give me that cord; they will be a few minutes.
  Hang on to her wrists while I tie her legs.

  PRIDE [_panting_]. She is so supple.

  HELL. All right. Now--
  in front then--pull! there. Where shall we put her?
  behind that tree?

  PRIDE. No; Hell, the bag!
  the bag! throw our things behind the tree,
  anyhow, in a heap, and then have her in.

  HELL. Excellent! empty it. Now--over her head!

     [FAITH _digs him in the stomach_

  Ouch! Her hands are about as delicate as iron.
  There ... steady ... _there_. That settles Faith.

  PRIDE. She can have her feud all to herself there,
  and fill her belly with her own gaudiness.

  HELL. Here--
  help tie it under her feet; so.
  I hear them; quick; carry it over here.

     [_They carry the bag to the back._ MAN, GABRIEL, _and_
     GRACE _come in_

  MAN. Hell, this is outrageous. He might have been drowned.
  O yes, I know he is a tiresome boy.
  I am sure he provoked me often, his jokes
  and his insolence, but to treat him so--

  HELL. I would have seen to it he came to no hurt,
  had you not been by: since you were--
  But I was rash. I agree I did wrong.
  I apologize--gentleman to gentleman. As for him--
  here, lad, and another time watch your tongue.
  Catch!

     [_He throws him something_

  GABRIEL. One of the thirty pieces, was it?
  Grace will win them all back, one day,
  and not by playing dice.

  MAN. Well, now ...
  where is Faith?

  PRIDE. Gone into the house.
  She would not even take the air with me;
  she preferred her own room to my company.
  [_aside to_ HELL] For the devil's sake give me a better belt;
  I can't keep my things together.

  HELL [_aside_]. Jezebel's?
  It is all we have.

  PRIDE [_aside_]. Any damn thing.
  Your friends, dearest Man, are a little difficult.
  Faith is rude to me and Grace to my brother--
  not that I mind--and I (poor soul!) thought
  just for once I would replace the cord
  of my habit with a little brightness, my old lightness
  of heart took me so to be with you.

     [_She puts on the belt_

  Does it look silly?

  MAN. No, but more like you.

  PRIDE. Of course, I do forgive your friend. You know
  that is where Religion helps. One can forgive.
  Is it not pleasant, dearest, to forgive others?
  It is far sweeter than anger, more satisfying.
  Lying in bed at night, I love to think
  how many sinners poor little Self-Respect
  has forgiven--even in a week or so. To be oneself
  is always to find how much better than others
  one surprisingly is. I take no credit,
  of course, for that, though indeed, Man,
  you loved me: did I seem--never mind.
  You loved me.

  MAN. Yes.

  PRIDE. It was something of a joy.
  Did you not feel yourself to be noble then?

  MAN. Yes.

  PRIDE. O come for a little; come!
  No, not in the house--out here,
  away from all your people. Yes indeed,
  I know we now are otherwise turned
  and so will be; but an hour--come!
  You shall be true to Faith and I to my vows;
  only a little walk, a little murmur,
  a reverie, a day-dream, a distant noon-glimpse
  of our past joy, a thing forgotten but
  for just this one companioned glance,
  this twy-memoried gleam far below.
  Come.

  MAN. I have never been able to forget you.

  PRIDE. Come.

  MAN. O how the blood runs quicker! O--
  Pride, Faith's songs are very sweet
  but strange, alien with that accent, sweet
  terribly, but to be with you is to lose terror,
  to lose the beauty that strips me of comfort. Pride,
  that is a dull dark dress you are wearing;
  your belt shows it up; it is not like you.

  PRIDE. We will see if we can find something brighter,
  more to my lord's liking; we might. Come.

     [GRACE _has been poking up among_ HELL'S _properties. He
     plays a tune_

  Would you not like to see me? no, say,
  there is no dress for Pride as beautiful as she,
  as you used to. Only for a moment; only for joy
  of the memory; then back to Immanuel and Faith.
  Kiss me and say so. Kiss me.

  MAN. Hark a minute. Who is that playing?
  It is that strange distant song
  which pricks a point of fire in each joint.
  Grace, what have you there?

  GRACE. This, my lord?
  I found it hidden in a heap behind a tree.
  It is one of the dulcimers Nebuchadnezzar's orchestra
  played at the grand show of the Three-in-the-Fire,
  who became, unexpectedly, Four.

  MAN. How Four?
  Is that the song's name?

  GRACE. O my lord,
  the tale is old: it was one of Immanuel's doings.
  Faith afterwards made a good song
  on the dance of the Four-in-the-Fire. Hear me play,
  and see if your heart does not move to the steps of the Fourth.
  Sit, my lord; here is something to sit on.

     [_He begins to roll the bag out_

  PRIDE _and_ HELL. Leave that alone!

  PRIDE. Man, make your servants leave untouched
  Our few poor belongings. It is my bag
  and my brother's dulcimer.

  GRACE. Nebuchadnezzar's dulcimer;
  stolen like Abel's blood and Adam's tooth
  and all the rest, from this very house.
  I only recover it.

  GABRIEL. Indeed, sir, you have
  a right to your own antiques--to give to Hell
  if you wish, but even Hell must not steal.
  Your museum was unique, but that bag holds much.
  Roll it nearer, Grace.

  HELL. Leave it alone.
  That dulcimer never came from the bag.

  PRIDE. Yes; it is mine.

  HELL. Yes; but not from the bag.
  That is full.

  GABRIEL. Ah but what fills it?
  Tell me that, Hell. And look at it!
  It is moving.

  GRACE [_striking an attitude and sepulchrally_].
  And where is Faith?

  HELL. How do I know?

  PRIDE. Back in the house.

  MAN. Something is inside the bag.

  PRIDE. Dear Man, only my own pet scorpions.
  I cannot bear to leave them behind; one day
  I will show them to you, but not just now.

  MAN. Scorpions! no scorpion ever moved like that.
  What have you got there?

  GRACE. Aha!

  HELL. Man,
  We did not come here to be insulted.  [GRACE _whistles_

  GABRIEL. The bag, sir, is trying to attract your attention.
  I submit that the whole affair is so suspicious
  you have a right to open it.

  HELL. No!

  PRIDE. No!

     [_The blade of a knife appears_

  GRACE. Ladies and gentlemen, observe the scorpion's sting.
  Little sister, your scorpions may stab you yet.

  MAN. It is opening all of itself. Nothing like this
  has ever happened in my house before.

  GRACE. My lord,
  nothing like my lady Faith and I
  ever happened in anyone's house before.
  Adored be the Omnipotence for ever and ever!

     [FAITH'S _head appears through the cut_. GABRIEL _and_
     GRACE _run to help her out_

  GRACE. Faith in a bag is Faith at her best!

  GABRIEL. No;
  even Faith must flag when she is stifled,
  and Faith with vision is wiser than Faith without.

  FAITH. Faith--and Faith may say so--is pretty well smothered.
  O this old smell of Man's horrors
  clings to the cloth, the beastly evidence
  of things unhoped and undesired,
  the present substance of things past and unseen.
  Pah! [_She stands up_

  MAN. Faith, who has done this? I vow
  I will now do justice. I keep promise--
  _I_? no; I do not see my way
  or what to say, but I swear the promise shall be kept
  that I made Immanuel when he leapt into heaven--
  mocking (O I know it! I know it!) my serious sin.
  Tell me, who has done this?

  PRIDE. One
  who will finish her work!

     [_She snatches a dagger from_ HELL'S _belt and leaps at_
     FAITH

  HELL. Fool, leave it alone!
  She is immortal like us! O imbecile!

     [FAITH _catches_ PRIDE _and bends her back, twisting the
     hand holding the knife_

  MAN. Drop that!

     [_He makes a movement forward_

  FAITH. Stop there, Man.
  She has challenged me alone and I alone
  will take the challenge. Since you will not choose
  by honour or love, will you take the mere fact?
  Will you believe in the power?

     [HELL _moves_; MAN _seizes him_

  MAN. A little else!
  There shall be none beside to interfere;
  that at least I can do!

  FAITH. Blessed Man,
  I will swear at the Judgement that you helped me here.
  So, Pride, so.

     [MAN _wrestles with_ HELL

  PRIDE. Ah, beast!
  Help me, Hell!

  HELL. Pride, help me!

  GABRIEL. Grace,
  would not your quick touch finish the trick?

  GRACE. I have brought them to a clear field! now yield
  the weaker! well I know who that will be.
  O Man, well thrown! poor Hell!

     [MAN _throws_ HELL _and puts his foot on him_

  MAN. Well sung, Grace! had you not found
  and struck the dulcimer, I should have fallen to folly
  deeper and darker, and my Faith died.
  O the sight of the knife cured all.
  Does she need help?

  GABRIEL. Probably not. I have known
  Faith live and thrive in odd places
  by her own mere valour. Look now.

     [_In the final stress_ PRIDE _breaks down; the dagger is
     twisted from her, and she falls_

  GRACE. Well done, Faith! well done, Man! So.

     [_He picks up the dagger_

  I thought so; Cain's old obsidian knife!
  What will you do with them now, my lord?

  MAN. I?
  What have I to do with giving sentence?

     [_He moves away._ HELL _rises_

  It seems to me that when I say _I_
  or when I think myself someone I am always wrong.

  GABRIEL. Sir, you have known that all the time
  if you let yourself think.

  GRACE. O chut, chut!
  Gabriel, you archangels are so stern--
  let our sweet lord make his own discoveries:
  do not be so severe on his human reason
  you with your communicated heavenly intuitions!

  GABRIEL. I too have--never mind. You are right, Grace.
  This is not the place or the time for rebuke.
  Sir, it is true that for ever in this house
  you hold the high, the low, and the middle justice
  over all things; yet, as Hell said,
  they are immortals; they cannot be put to death.
  I do not advise perpetual prison here,
  not trusting Pride--nor, sir, to be frank,
  thinking you would have much chance against her.
  We have seen----

  GRACE. Gabriel! Come off your grand angelic
  passion for instruction. This is Man's affair;
  I would swear (if I could) he would do himself right,
  and us.

  GABRIEL. Very well. Sir, what will you do?

  MAN. Do? it is they have done their last and worst.

     [GRACE _whistles_. MAN _looks at him_

  GRACE [_hastily_]. My lord, I am sorry; that was old habit.
  When I am sceptical I always whistle,
  and as for doing their _last_--forgive me; speak.

  MAN. Let them go then to their own place.
  Up and out!

     [PRIDE _rises; she and_ HELL _look at each other; she
     screams_

  PRIDE. O no, no!
  Man, I will repent, I will do better,
  I will be good one day--no, to-day.
  Do not send me out to the malignant lands;
  do not send me out with Hell! Save me!

  GABRIEL. Sister, it was your choice.

  PRIDE. No, never;
  not with him. O Man, Man----

  GABRIEL. Man is not to be asked now; he judged.
  The execution is remitted to us. We
  are his household; we wear his livery; we do his will.
  The Mercy of God takes Man at his word
  and enforces it, by us who obey him on earth. Go.

  PRIDE. Man, I loved you----

  GABRIEL. Loved! O little sister,
  if anything was wanting, that has finished all.
  Call Love in and Pride is lost.

  HELL. Come, sister; the journey begins again.

  PRIDE. No, no! [_She rushes from one to the other;_ MAN _hides his
  face_] Save me! You have not gone,
  you have not walked with him among the pools,
  beyond the baboons and the crocodiles, beyond all
  but the quicksands that never quite swallow us, under a moon
  that never quite lights us, in the death that never quite dies,
  and _he_----

  GABRIEL. Is this Pride?

  PRIDE. No, no.
  No Pride! O if you had carried that bag--
  the things we stole from you are beautiful beside
  the things he can fill it with.

  FAITH. But what does he _do_?

  PRIDE. Denatures.

  GABRIEL. Denatures!

  FAITH. O horrible! O
  God, pitiful God, have mercy on all!

     [_There is a pause_

  PRIDE. Yes. Hell. I am coming to you, Hell.

     [_She stumbles towards him_

  HELL [_softly_]. The bag, Pride; do not forget the bag.
  It will be filled soon down there,
  and now it is your turn to carry it--harlot!

  PRIDE. Yes, Hell. [_She fetches it_] Here it is, Hell.

  HELL. Come then. [_To the others_] We will be back presently.
     [_They go out_

  GABRIEL. So. That is done. Now----

  FAITH and GRACE. Sh-h!

  GRACE. Gabriel, there must be many things in the house
  waiting for you. The silver needs polishing
  perhaps; or the accounts--think of the accounts!

  GABRIEL. Grace, if you were not a Divine gift----

  GRACE. Yes, but I am----

  GABRIEL. You are. If you were not----

  GRACE. I know; I know; you said so. The silver, Gabriel,
  the accounts! the dinner! We must dine, Gabriel!
  While Man is on earth, he must dine;
  and I do better myself on a certain nourishment.
  Remember Cana of Galilee!

  GABRIEL. Cana of Galilee!
  Really ...
     [_He goes out_

  FAITH. It is the second step that counts.
  My lord, I can say nothing now to cheer
  a broken heart; only that mine too
  broke; we are not adult till then--O
  we are not even young; the second step,
  the perseverance into the province of death,
  is a hard thing; then there is no return.
  Most dear lord, if I could do you good,
  I would; as it is----

  MAN. O Faith, Faith, I loved her.

  FAITH. Yes.

  MAN. I loved her; God knows how I loved her.

  FAITH. Therefore God shall make all things well--
  O agony! O bounteous and fell judgement!--...
  When you want me, if you want me, I will come
  quicker than you can think. The Peace be with you,
  and Love which is all substance in all things made.
     [_She goes out_

  MAN. A second step ... a second step in love ...
  What, O almighty Christ, what of the third?

       *       *       *       *       *




Source:


  Collected Plays
  by CHARLES WILLIAMS
  Oxford University Press
  London, New York, Toronto
  1963


[The end of _Grab and Grace_ by Charles Williams]