Read The Tragedy of Mister Morn for Free Online Page A

ashes,
    scrunching its wings, it begs … Oh, understand,
    it is not I who beg, not I! See—
    the muse wrings her hands … there is a wind
    in the Olympian gardens … Pegasus’s eyes
    are filled with blood and dawn … Ella, will you come?
    ELLA:
    Don’t ask, don’t ask. It scares me, it delights me …
    You know, I am only a white bridge,
    I am but a flimsy bridge over the torrent …
    KLIAN:
    Tomorrow then—at ten sharp—your father
    goes to bed early. At ten. Yes?
[ GUESTS walk past .]
    FOREIGNER:
Who then
    do you think is the happiest in this city?
    DANDILIO [ taking snuff ]:
    It’s me, of course … I have deduced happiness,
    determined it, like a scientific theorem …
    FIRST GUEST:
    I want to make a correction. In our city
    each and every one will answer: “It’s me,
    of course!”
    SECOND GUEST:
No. There is one unhappy man:
    that dark conspirator, unknown to us,
    the one who wasn’t caught. Somewhere he lives,
    even now, and knows that he is guilty …
    LADY:
    That poor negro there is also unhappy.
    He wanted to astonish everyone
    with his frightening appearance, but nobody
    has taken notice of him. Awkward Othello
    sits in the corner, drinking gloomily …
    FIRST GUEST:
    … and looks out from under his brow.
    DANDILIO:
And what
    does Midia think?
    SECOND GUEST:
Look, our stranger
    has disappeared again! It is as though,
    passing between us, he slipped behind the curtain …
    MIDIA:
    I think, happiest of them all is the King …
    Ah, Morn!
    [ MISTER MORN enters, laughing, with EDMIN following .]
    MORN [ as he walks ]:
Splendid, blissful people! …
    VOICES:
    Morn! Morn!
    MORN:
Midia! Greetings, Midia,
    radiant lady! Give me your hand, Klian,
    you thunderous madman, you crimson soul!
    Ah, Dandilio, you gay dandelion …
    Music, music, I need heavenly music! …
    VOICES:
    Morn is here, Morn!
    MORN:
Splendid, blissful
    people! What snow, Midia … what snow!
    As cold as the kiss of a ghost, as hot as tears
    on your eyelashes … Music! Music! And who
    is this? An ambassador from the East?
    MIDIA:
    An actor, a friend of Ella’s.
    FIRST GUEST:
Before you came,
    we were trying to decide who is the happiest
    in our city; we thought—the King; but then
    you entered: first place is yours, I think …
    MORN:
    What is happiness? The flutter of celestial wings.
    What is happiness? A snowflake on one’s lip …
    What is happiness? …
    MIDIA [ quietly ]:
Listen, why did you
    come so late? The guests will be leaving soon:
    it looks like my belovèd deliberately
    arrived for their departure …
    MORN [ quietly ]:
My joy, forgive me:
    work … I have been very busy …
    VOICES:
Dancing!
    Dancing!
    MORN:
Ella, may I have this dance …
[ The GUESTS move into the salon. Only DANDILIO and GANUS remain .]
    DANDILIO:
    I see Othello is missing Desdemona.
    Oh, the demon is in that name …
    GANUS [ glancing in the direction of MORN ]:
What a
    passionate gentleman …
    DANDILIO:
    What can one do, Ganus …
    GANUS:
    What did you say?
    DANDILIO:
I said, has it been long
    since you left Venice?
    GANUS:
Leave me, I beg you …
[ DANDILIO moves into the salon . GANUS is left hunched at a table .]
    ELLA [ enters briskly ]:
    Is there anyone here?
    GANUS:
Ella, this is
    hard on me …
    ELLA:
What is wrong, my dear?
    GANUS:
    There is something I don’t understand.
    This suffocating make-up feels like
    it’s straining my heart …
    ELLA:
My poor Moor …
    GANUS:
    Before, you said … I felt so happy …
    You were telling the truth, weren’t you?
    ELLA:
Come on,
    smile … Listen, the violin bows are
    sparkling from the hall!
    GANUS:
Will it end soon?
    This heavy, mottled dream …
    ELLA:
Yes, soon, soon …
[ GANUS moves into the salon .]
    ELLA [ alone ]:
    How strange … my heart suddenly sang out:
    I would give my whole life for this man
    to be happy … a kind of light breeze
    has passed by, and now I feel capable
    of the most humble feat. My poor Moor!
    I’m such a fool, why did