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Sense and Sensibility-Marianne Act 1 Lines

Terms in this set (104)

(A blue sky. In front of it three rolling doors of Jane Austen's period. Cast members do all the scene changes in-sight, which concerns only furniture and the replacement of doors. Sometimes scene changes begin before the current scene is over, admitting the theatricality and providing fluidity. As the play opens, furniture is set up for two simultaneous scenes. In one, JOHN DASHWOOD, a distinguished man in his mid-thirties, stands while his wife, MRS. JOHN DASHWOOD, sits. In the other, his stepmother, MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD, packs a trunk. Her daughter, ELINOR, watches. Elinor's sister, MARIANNE, stands at a window.)
MARIANNE. (Looking out over the audience and through a window.) I cannot bear to think of leaving dear Norland Park...the gardens in bloom. And I think it quite unfair we must.
ELINOR. We are really before ourselves in packing before the Dashwoods arrive to take up residence, mother.
MARIANNE. They have a perfectly good home in London, I don't see why they must have ours? It is, mark my words, Elinor, all the idea of that terrible woman, his wife.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. It's John's home now, as stated in the will. Your father thought it quite important that the estate be kept together, as the Dashwoods have been settled in Sussex for generations.
MARIANNE. Mother, well, where will we go, tell me that?
ELINOR. At a price we can afford.
MARIANNE. Afford, afford, afford.
ELINOR. We have not, since Father's death, limitless means. Now Marianne, there is no reason both families cannot live quite comfortably here at Norland Park until a suitable situation can be found.
MARIANNE. There are many reasons.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Marianne, have you seen Margaret?
MARIANNE. She is in her tree house Mother.
JOHN DASHWOOD. Well. I hope you will be a friend to Fanny, Marianne. We shall do well together, I am sure.
MARIANNE. (An awkward pause.) Of course. If you will excuse me, I must fetch something from my room.
ELINOR. Your conversation is far better than picturesque, it is surprising, which I prefer.
(They exit. MARIANNE and her mother enter.)
MARIANNE. Is there no news at all of a situation for us, Mother?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Well I..
MARIANNE. Mrs. Fanny Dashwood is, at this moment, in the quarters replacing our plates with hers, having already done so with the linens. Really, it is unbearable.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. There is, as I am sure you have noticed, Marianne, an excellent reason for some little delay.
MARIANNE. The growing attachment between Elinor and Edward Ferrars is what you mean.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. I comprehend his merits and feel quite assured of his worth. His heart is warm and his temper affectionate.
MARIANNE. And you can tell, beyond doubt, that Elinor is drawn to him?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. He is amiable, well mannered, and the eldest son of a man who died very rich.
MARIANNE. Must wealth always be mentioned? Is he not......uninteresting?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Think clearly, Marianne. Elinor cannot live on her 'interests. In a few months she will, in all possibility,
be settled for life.
MARIANNE. But how will we do without her?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. My love, it will scarcely be a separation. We shall live within a few miles of each other, and you will gain a brother, a real, affectionate brother.
MARIANNE. But there is something wanting. He wants all that spirit, that fire which at once announces virtue and intelligence. And besides all this, I am afraid Mamma, he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract him; and though he admires Elinor's drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their worth. He admires as a lover and not as a connoisseur.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. To be a connoisseur is not necessary to a marriage.
MARIANNE. Elinor has not my feelings, and, therefore, she may overlook it and be happy with him but it would break my heart. Mamma, the more I know of the world the more convinced I am that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much!
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. You are not yet nineteen, Marianne. It is yet too early in life to despair of such a happiness.
(She exits and ELINOR enters. She and MARIANNE sit on the
ground as on a lawn. ELINOR draws on a tablet.)
MARIANNE. You have been with Edward?
ELINOR. Yes.
MARIANNE. You have picked a bouquet.
ELINOR. I have.
MARIANNE. What a pity it is Elinor, that Edward should have no taste for drawing.
ELINOR. He does not draw himself but he has great pleasure in seeing the performance of other people. I hope you do not consider
him deficient in taste.
MARIANNE. Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in everything equal to your sense of his merits. I have the highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense.
ELINOR. The excellence of his understanding and his principles can be only concealed by that shyness which so often keeps him
silent. We have been thrown, in these weeks, a good deal together and I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed, his enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation just and correct, and his taste delicate and pure.
MARIANNE. His taste?
ELINOR. His abilities in every respect improve upon acquaintance.
MARIANNE. But...
ELINOR. True, at first sight his person can hardly be called hand-
some "til the general sweetness of his countenance is perceived. At
present, I know him so well that I think him really handsome; or at
least, almost so. What say you Marianne?
MARIANNE. I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, when you tell me to love him like a brother.
ELINOR. A brother? Marianne I...I do not deny that I..think very
highly of him...that I like him. Esteem him.
MARIANNE. Esteem him! Like him! Cold hearted Elinor! Use those words again and I will leave you on the moment!
ELINOR. (Laughing.) Excuse me for speaking in such a quiet way about my feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared; believe them, in short, to be such as his merit, and the suspicion--the hope of his affection for me may warrant, without imprudence or folly. But further than that you must not believe. 1 am, by no means, assured of his regard for me. There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful; and 'til his sentiments are fully known, you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own partiality. By believing or calling it more than it is.
MARIANNE. But in your heart.
ELINOR. In my heart I feel little-scarcely any doubt of his preference.
MARIANNE. Then, sister, follow your inclination.
ELINOR. There are other points to be considered beside his inclination.
MARIANNE. (Stifled scream.)
ELINOR. He is very far from being independent. From Fanny's recitation of his mother's conduct, I am not disposed to think her amiable. She may not wish him to marry a woman who had not fortune or rank.
MARIANNE. Are you really, Elinor, not engaged to him?
ELINOR. Sister, would I stay silent of such a thing?
MARIANNE. Would you not?
ELINOR. None Mother.
MARIANNE. But what of Edward?
MRS. TOHN DASHWOOD. I believe it's settled, John.
(There is a moment's pause and then all exit. MARIANNE appears. She is alone on stage.)
MARIANNE. Dear, dear Norland! When shall I cease to regret you...when leaving to feel a home elsewhere. And you, trees that shaded my childhood, you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or regret you occasion, and insensible of any changes in
those who walk under your shade. Goodbye. Goodbye!
ELINOR. (Saying something nice;) It is nicely situated.
MARIANNE. But small. Smaller than I thought.
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. I am well satisfied with the size and to add and improve is always a delight. We will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present.
MARIANNE. But small.
COLONEL BRANDON. If it would give you any pleasure?
MARIANNE. (Feeling a little forced;) As long as it is not too damp.
MRS. JENNINGS. A fine evening. Dry as toast.
MARIANNE. (As they exit:) You are a good shot then?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. I cannot see why you think him so exceedingly ancient?
MARIANNE. But at least, Mamma, you cannot deny the absurdity of Mrs. Jennings's so clearly promoting a match.
ELINOR. It would be my wish to cease all contention and enjoy this glorious sunlight.
MARIANNE. (Paying no attention:) Colonel Brandon is old enough to be my father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must have long ago outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous. When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect him?
ELINOR. Infirmity! Do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my
mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs.
MARIANNE. Did you not hear him complain of the rheumatism? And is that not the commonest infirmity of a declining life?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. (Laughing.) It must seem to you a miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of forty.
MARIANNE. Mamma, you are not doing me justice. Colonel Brandon, of course, is not old enough that his friends need be apprehensive of losing him, but thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony!
ELINOR. Perhaps thirty-five and seventeen had better not have anything to do with matrimony together. But should there happen
to be a woman of twenty-seven and single, there can be no objection to Colonel Brandon marrying her.
MARIANNE. A woman of seven and twenty can never hope to feel or inspire affection again.
ELINOR. Marianne!
MARIANNE. In his marrying such a woman therefore, there would be nothing unsuitable. It would be a compact of convenience and no
marriage at all. To me it would be a commercial exchange; in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the other.
ELINOR. It would be impossible, I know, to convince you a woman of twenty-seven could feel love, but I must object to your dooming
Colonel Brandon and his wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber because on a cold, damp day he chanced to complain of a
slight rheumatic feel in one of his shoulders.
MARIANNE. But he talked of flannel waistcoats, and with me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connected with aches, cramps, rheumatisms, and every species of ailment that can afflict the old and feeble.
ELINOR. (Irritated, leaving:) I have much to do Mamma with that which is not nonsense.
(And she is gone.)
MARIANNE. Mamma, on the subject of ailments. I am sure Edward Ferrars is not well. We have been here almost a fortnight and yet he does not come. What else but illness could detain him?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Does Elinor expect him?
MARIANNE. She must, surely, but the whole of their behaviors to each other has been unaccountable! How cold, how composed were their last adieus. And Elinor's self command is invariable. What sort of lovers are these?
(Her mother shakes her head and taps MARIANNE.)
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. There are many sorts of lovers, Marianne, besides those of your imagination.
(She exits. ELINOR joins MARIANNE. They are walking the hills above the village of Barton.)
MARIANNE. I could walk such hills and see such vistas forever.
ELINOR. Be careful sister, you will fall.
MARIANNE. Can you believe our mother saying this weather was not 'tempting' enough. I love tumbling clouds and a showery sky. I could not stand the confinement of the house another moment. rejoice sister, I do.
(Thunder.)
ELINOR. We had best turn for home, Marianne.
MARIANNE. Truly, sister, there is no felicity in the world superior to this. Promise me we shall walk here at least two hours.
(Thunder close, rain.)
ELINOR. Your felicity, sister, will become a deluge.
MARIANNE. (Spinning in place;) A fine one! Glorious. (Grabbing at ELINOR's hand;)
We'll run back. Chase me!
(MARIANNE sets off and falls, twisting her ankle.)
ELINOR. Marianne! Marianne, have you hurt yourself?
MARIANNE. My ankle, I think. Help me to stand.
ELINOR. Can you put your arm around my shoulder? There, yes.
(MARIANNE cries out as she puts weight on her leg. A gentleman appears upstage carrying a hunting knife and sees them.)
You cannot walk then?
(MARIANNE shakes her head.)
It is at least a mile or so home. Hello! Hello!
MARIANNE. You must leave me I think, and seek help.
WILLOUGHBY. (Looking up;) The storm I think will worsen. I must not leave you to be drenched. The young lady has sprained her ankle, I think. I can deliver her safely home if you will allow me.
MARIANNE. (Liking his looks;) I would be much indebted, sir.
ELINOR. Marianne!
MARIANNE. Oh!
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON. As good a kind of fellow as ever lived. Very decent shot and there is not a bolder rider in England.
MARIANNE. And?
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON. What?
MARIANNE. And is that all you can say for him? But what are his manners, his pursuits, his talents.
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON. Well.
MARIANNE...and his genius?
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON.to whom he is related, and whose possessions he will inherit.
MARIANNE. Single?
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON. Saw the man dance the long evening last Christmas and never sat down a moment.
MARIANNE. Did he, indeed?
SIR JOHN MIDDLETON. And up at eight to ride to the hunt.
MARIANNE. Just what a young man ought to be. His pursuits should know no moderation, and leave him no fatigue.
WILLOUGHBY. I took the liberty of riding by to see if you were improved Miss Dashwood.
MARIANNE. I am Sir, but above all we owe you thanks.
WILLOUGHBY. You will not, I think, be seen dancing for at least a fortnight.
MARIANNE. (Laughing:) I would dance on one foot if I could.
WILLOUGHBY. I enjoy dancing almost above all things. Ah, are you reading The Mysteries of Udolpho?
MARIANNE. For the third time. You read novels? Most gentlemen think them a waste of a man's time.
WILLOUGHBY. Most gentlemen spend far too much time with their hounds. Though I admit to running fine ones. (They smile.) May I sit for a moment?
MARIANNE. Please do.
(Time passes; WILLOUGHBY picks up a book and begins to read.)
WILLOUGHBY. Let me not to the marriage of true minds.
Admit impediments.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
MARIANNE. Or bends..
WILLOUGHBY.
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
MARIANNE.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
MARIANNE & WILLOUGHBY.
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
She and WILLOUGHBY converse in dumb show. ELINOR, elsewhere on the stage, speaks straight forward.)
ELINOR. Well, Marianne, I think you have done pretty well for one morning. You have already ascertained Mr. Willoughby's opinion
on every conceivable matter.
(WILLOUGHBY still in dumb show, says his goodbyes, bows and exits. ELINOR, still speaking moves into the room with MARIANNE.)
You have shared all you know of gardens, literature, travel, and the dance, and spoken at some length about composers for the pianoforte.
MARIANNE. Yes sister.
ELINOR. But how is your acquaintance to be long supported under such extraordinary dispatch of every subject of discourse? Another meeting will examine his sentiments on the picaresque and second marriages, and then you can have nothing further to ask.
MARIANNE. Elinor! Is this fair? Is this just? Are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too much at my ease, too happy, too frank. I have erred against every commonplace notion of decorum. I have been open and sincere where I ought to have
been reserved, spiritless, dull and deceitful; had I talked only of the weather and roads, this reproach would have been spared.
WILLOUGHBY. (We catch him mid-conversation:) Brandon, you see, is
that kind of man whom everybody speaks well of and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to.
MARIANNE. That is exactly what I think of him!
ELINOR. My protégé as you call him, is a sensible man; and sense will always have attractions for me. Yes, Marianne, even in a man between thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of the world, has read and has a thinking mind. He has always answered my enquiries with the readiness of good breeding and good nature.
MARIANNE. That is to say, he has told you, that in the East Indies the climate is hot, and the mosquitoes troublesome.
WILLOUGHBY. I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man, who has everybody's good word,
more money than he can spend, more time than he knows how to employ, and two new coats every year.
MARIANNE. But neither genius, taste, or spirit. His understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no ardor, and his voice no passion.
WILLOUGHBY. Miss Dashwood! You endeavor to disarm me by reason, but it will not do. I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon.
MARIANNE. One?
WILLOUGHBY, He has threatened me with rain when I wished good weather.
MARIANNE. Two?
WILLOUGHBY. He finds fault with my carriage.
MARIANNE. And the last?
ELINOR. Marianne! Your carriage ride with Willoughby has extended through the afternoon and worried us all beyond speaking.
MARIANNE. The day was so lovely, the air so fresh, I could not allow Willoughby to turn back.
ELINOR. And where did you go?
MARIANNE. Is that question yours to ask, sister?
ELINOR. Did you drive with Willoughby to his home at Allenham, Marianne?
MARIANNE. And what if we did?
ELINOR. (Upset with her:) Marianne.
MARIANNE. Is it not what you have often wished to do yourself?
ELINOR. I would not have gone alone with Willoughby.
MARIANNE. Mr. Willoughby, however, is the only person who can have a right to show the house; and as we went in an open carriage, it was impossible to have any other companion. I never spent a pleasanter morning in my life.
ELINOR. I am afraid that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety.
MARIANNE. I am not sensible, Elinor, of having done anything wrong in walking over Mrs. Smith's grounds or in seeing her house. They will one day be Mr. Willoughby's and......
ELINOR. If they were one day to be your own, Marianne, you would not be justified in what you have done.
MARIANNE. (Furious.) If, Elinor, there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I should have been sensible of it at the time for we always know when we are acting wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure. (She starts to go and then turns back. Triumphantly:) And if you care to know, he has given me a horse.
ELINOR. Marianne, you know that is out of the question! Such a present from a man so little, or at least so lately, known to you? This is too much.
MARIANNE. You are mistaken, Elinor, in supposing I know so very little of Willoughby. It is not time or opportunity that determines intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be sufficient to make some people acquainted with each other and seven days are more than enough for others!
WILLOUGHBY. (After a moment:) There are some people who cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one of them. I would lay
fifteen guineas the letter was of his own writing.
MARIANNE. I have no doubt of it.
MRS. JENNINGS. It is about Miss Williams, I am sure.
MARIANNE. And who is Miss Williams?
ELINOR. I think it well chosen and Marianne will treasure it, Mother.
(They enter what we will take to be the front door. ELINOR calls for her sister.)
Marianne!
(MARIANNE rushes in with her handkerchief to her eyes.)
Sister.
MARIANNE. (Waving her away:) No, no. Please, no.
ELINOR. The weather is very bright, will you walk with me sister?
MARIANNE. No. Thanks, Has the mail come?
ELINOR. It has.
MARIANNE. And?
(ELINOR shakes her head, MRS. DASHWOOD enters with a book.)
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. We have never finished Hamlet, Marianne; our dear Willoughby went away before we could get through it. Shall we read it together?
MARIANNE. (Wryly;) To hear Ophelia's drowning you mean?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Well, we will put it by, that when he comes again; but it may be months before that happens.
MARIANNE. Months! No-nor many weeks.
(There is a knock. MARIANNE is looking out the window.) Good heavens. Elinor, it is Edward Ferrars!
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Here at the cottage.
(Looks at ELINOR.)
How very wonderful indeed!
(She goes to the door-offstage.)
MARIANNE. (To ELINOR;) He is the only person in the world who
can at this moment be forgiven for not being Willoughby.
(ELINOR, embarrassed, smiles.)
Your smile is happiness for me, sister.
(EDWARD enters.)
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. Just see whom I have brought.
MARIANNE. Dearest Edward. Our surprise and happiness are both complete. How did you find the cottage? Have you come direct from London?
ELINOR. Mr. Ferrars.
MARIANNE. A fortnight! And not been to see us?
EDWARD. I was at Norland a month ago.
MARIANNE. And how does dear, dear Norland look?
ELINOR. Dear, dear Norland probably looks much as it always does at this time of year. Woods and walks thickly covered with dead leaves.
MARIANNE. How I love them, driven in showers about me by the wind!
ELINOR. It is not everyone who has your passion for dead leaves.
MARIANNE. There is one who does.
EDWARD. You have grown a little more grave than you were.
MARIANNE. Nay, Edward, you need not reproach me. You are not yourself in spirits.
ELINOR. I have often fancied people to be so much more gay or grave or ingenious or stupid than they really are, without giving myself time to deliberate or judge.
MARIANNE. But Elinor, I thought our judgments were given to us merely to be subservient to those of our neighbors?
EDWARD. She knows her worth too well for false shame. Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority in some way or other. Were
it not true, I would not be shy.
MARIANNE. But you would still be reserved of feelings, and that is worse.
EDWARD. Are my feelings not known, Marianne?
MARIANNE. Not at all.
EDWARD. I shall be back again if I am allowed.
MARIANNE. Not simply allowed, but commanded.
EDWARD. Good afternoon.
(Takes MARIANNE's hand.)
MARIANNE. I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward. Is that Fanny's hair displayed in it? But I should have thought her hair had been darker?
MRS. HENRY DASHWOOD. I will show you out.
MARIANNE. (Softly so as not to be heard as they go.) Or was it yours Elinor?
(The scene finishes. The chair is struck. EDWARD and MRS. DASHWOOD exit. MARIANNE and ELINOR are handed
parasols and begin to walk. The light brightens.)
ELINOR. You are sure your ankle feels strong enough for the walk
back from town?
MARIANNE. It is well completely. (Mischievously.) And perhaps we may see Edward.
MRS. JENNINGS. Oh, you are very agreeable girls indeed, the sweetest girls in the world. You will find Lucy, I am sure to be particularly civil. Marianne, my dear, will you give me one moment.
MARIANNE. But....but...
ELINOR. I must go.
MARIANNE. Sister, will you come?
ELINOR. Yes. Yes, of course.
MARIANNE. With Mrs. Jennings, I have seen bonnets enough for a lifetime. Had Miss Steele thoughts or feelings?
ELINOR. (After a moment) What?
MARIANNE. Miss. Steele?
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