Read The Lives and Times of Archy and Mehitabel Page 7

  we get bored with the routine

  and crave beauty

  and excitement

  fire is beautiful

  and we know that if we get

  too close it will kill us

  but what does that matter

  it is better to be happy

  for a moment

  and be burned up with beauty

  than to live a long time

  and be bored all the while

  so we wad all our life up

  into one little roll

  and then we shoot the roll

  that is what life is for

  it is better to be a part of beauty

  for one instant and then cease to

  exist than to exist forever

  and never be a part of beauty

  our attitude toward life

  is come easy go easy

  we are like human beings

  used to be before they became

  too civilized to enjoy themselves

  and before i could argue him

  out of his philosophy

  he went and immolated himself

  on a patent cigar lighter

  i do not agree with him

  myself i would rather have

  half the happiness and twice

  the longevity

  but at the same time i wish

  there was something i wanted

  as badly as he wanted to fry himself

  archy

  a roach of the taverns

  i went into a

  speakeasy the other night

  with some of the

  boys and we were all sitting

  around under one of

  the tables making

  merry with crumbs and

  cheese and what not but

  after while a strange

  melancholy descended

  upon the jolly crew and

  one old brown veteran roach

  said with a sigh well

  boys eat drink and

  be maudlin for

  tomorrow we are dry the

  shadow of the padlock

  rushes toward us

  like a sahara sandstorm

  flinging itself at an oasis

  for years myself and my

  ancestors before me have

  inhabited yonder ice box but

  the day approaches

  when our old homestead

  will be taken away from

  here and scalded out

  yes says i soon there will

  be nothing but that

  eheu fugaces stuff

  on every hand i

  never drank it says he

  what kind of a

  drink is it

  it is bitter as wormwood

  says i and the

  only chaser to it is

  the lethean water

  it is not the booze itself

  that i regret so

  much said the old brown

  roach it is the

  golden companionship of

  the tavern myself

  and my ancestors have been

  chop house and tavern

  roaches for hundreds of years

  countless generations back

  one of my elizabethan

  forbears was plucked from

  a can of ale in the

  mermaid tavern by

  will shakespeare and

  put down kit marlowe s back

  what subtle wits they were in

  those days said i yes

  he said and later

  another one of my

  ancestors was

  introduced into a larded

  hare that addison

  was eating by dicky steele

  my ancestor came

  skurrying forth dicky

  said is that your own

  hare joe or a wig a

  thing which addison

  never forgave yours is a

  remarkable family

  history i said yes he

  said i am the last

  of a memorable

  line one of my

  ancestors was found drowned

  in the ink well

  out of which poor

  eddie poe wrote the

  raven we have

  always associated with wits

  bohemians and bon

  vivants my maternal

  grandmother was slain by

  john masefield with

  a bung starter well well it

  is sad i said the

  glad days pass yes

  he says soon we will all

  be as dry as the

  egyptian scarab that

  lies in the sarcophagus

  beside the mummy of rameses and

  he hasn t had a

  drink for four thousand

  years it is sad for

  you he continued but

  think how much sadder it

  is for me with

  a family tradition such as

  mine only one of my

  ancestors cheese it i said

  interrupting him i do

  not wish to injure

  your feelings but i weary

  of your ancestors i

  have often noticed that

  ancestors never boast

  of the descendants who boast

  of ancestors i would

  rather start a family than

  finish one blood will tell but often

  it tells too much

  archy

  the froward lady bug

  boss is it not awful

  the way some female

  creatures mistake ordinary

  politeness for sudden

  adoration

  i met a katydid in a

  beef stew in ann

  street the other evening her

  foot slipped and she

  was about to sink

  forever when i pushed her a

  toothpick since i

  rescued her the poor silly

  thing follows me about

  day and night i always felt

  my fate would be a

  poet she says to me how lovely

  to be rescued by one i

  am musical myself my

  nature is sensitive to it so

  much so that for

  months i dwelt in a grand

  piano in carnegie hall i

  hope you don t think

  i am bold no i said you

  seem timid to me you

  seem to lack courage entirely the

  way you dog my footsteps

  one would think you

  were afraid to be alone i do

  not wish any one any

  ill luck but if

  this shrinking thing got

  caught in a high wind and

  was blown out to

  open sea i hope she would

  be saved by a ship

  outward bound for

  madagascar

  archy

  pete the parrot and shakespeare

  i got acquainted with

  a parrot named pete recently

  who is an interesting bird

  pete says he used

  to belong to the fellow

  that ran the mermaid tavern

  in london then i said

  you must have known

  shakespeare know him said pete

  poor mutt i knew him well

  he called me pete and i called him

  bill but why do you say poor mutt

  well said pete bill was a

  disappointed man and was always

  boring his friends about what

  he might have been and done

  if he only had a fair break

  two or three pints of sack

  and sherris and the tears

  would trickle down into his

  beard and his beard would get

  soppy and wilt his collar

&nbs
p; i remember one night when

  bill and ben jonson and

  frankie beaumont

  were sopping it up

  here i am ben says bill

  nothing but a lousy playwright

  and with anything like luck

  in the breaks i might have been

  a fairly decent sonnet writer

  i might have been a poet

  if i had kept away from the theatre

  yes says ben i ve often

  thought of that bill

  but one consolation is

  you are making pretty good money

  out of the theatre

  money money says bill what the hell

  is money what i want is to be

  a poet not a business man

  these damned cheap shows

  i turn out to keep the

  theatre running break my heart

  slap stick comedies and

  blood and thunder tragedies

  and melodramas say i wonder

  if that boy heard you order

  another bottle frankie

  the only compensation is that i get

  a chance now and then

  to stick in a little poetry

  when nobody is looking

  but hells bells that isn t

  what i want to do

  i want to write sonnets and

  songs and spenserian stanzas

  and i might have done it too

  if i hadn t got

  into this frightful show game

  business business business

  grind grind grind

  what a life for a man

  that might have been a poet

  well says frankie beaumont

  why don t you cut it bill

  i can t says bill

  i need the money i ve got

  a family to support down in

  the country well says frankie

  anyhow you write pretty good

  plays bill any mutt can write

  plays for this london public

  says bill if he puts enough

  murder in them what they want

  is kings talking like kings

  never had sense enough to talk

  and stabbings and stranglings

  and fat men making love

  and clowns basting each

  other with clubs and cheap puns

  and off color allusions to all

  the smut of the day oh i know

  what the low brows want

  and i give it to them

  well says ben jonson

  don t blubber into the drink

  brace up like a man

  and quit the rotten business

  i can t i can t says bill

  i ve been at it too long i ve got to

  the place now where i can t

  write anything else

  but this cheap stuff

  i m ashamed to look an honest

  young sonneteer in the face

  i live a hell of a life i do

  the manager hands me some mouldy old

  manuscript and says

  bill here s a plot for you

  this is the third of the month

  by the tenth i want a good

  script out of this that we

  can start rehearsals on

  not too big a cast

  and not too much of your

  damned poetry either

  you know your old

  familiar line of hokum

  they eat up that falstaff stuff

  of yours ring him in again

  and give them a good ghost

  or two and remember we gotta

  have something dick burbage can get

  his teeth into and be sure

  and stick in a speech

  somewhere the queen will take

  for a personal compliment and if

  you get in a line or two somewhere

  about the honest english yeoman

  it s always good stuff

  and it s a pretty good stunt

  bill to have the heavy villain

  a moor or a dago or a jew

  or something like that and say

  i want another

  comic welshman in this

  but i don t need to tell

  you bill you know this game

  just some of your ordinary

  hokum and maybe you could

  kill a little kid or two a prince

  or something they like

  a little pathos along with

  the dirt now you better see burbage

  tonight and see what he wants

  in that part oh says bill

  to think i am

  debasing my talents with junk

  like that oh god what i wanted

  was to be a poet

  and write sonnet serials

  like a gentleman should

  well says i pete

  bill s plays are highly

  esteemed to this day

  is that so says pete

  poor mutt little he would

  care what poor bill wanted

  was to be a poet

  archy

  horse shakespeare and i

  archy confesses

  coarse

  jocosity

  catches the crowd

  shakespeare

  and i

  are often

  low browed

  the fish wife

  curse

  and the laugh

  of the horse

  shakespeare

  and i

  are frequently

  coarse

  aesthetic

  excuses

  in bill s behalf

  are adduced

  to refine

  big bill s

  coarse laugh

  but bill

  he would chuckle

  to hear such guff

  he pulled

  rough stuff

  and he liked

  rough stuff

  hoping you

  are the same

  archy

  mehitabel he says—

  the old trouper

  i ran onto mehitabel again

  last evening

  she is inhabiting

  a decayed trunk

  which lies in an alley

  in greenwich village

  in company with the

  most villainous tom cat

  i have ever seen

  but there is nothing

  wrong about the association

  archy she told me

  it is merely a plutonic

  attachment

  and the thing can be

  believed for the tom

  looks like one of pluto s demons

  it is a theatre trunk

  archy mehitabel told me

  and tom is an old theatre cat

  he has given his life

  to the theatre

  he claims that richard

  mansfield once

  kicked him out of the way

  and then cried because

  he had done it and

  petted him

  and at another time

  he says in a case

  of emergency

  he played a bloodhound

  in a production of

  uncle tom s cabin

  the stage is not what it

  used to be tom says

  he puts his front paw

  on his breast and says

  they don t have it any more

  they don t have it here

  the old troupers are gone

  there s nobody can troupe

  any more

  they are all amateurs nowadays

  they haven t got it

  here

  there are only

  five or six of us oldtime

  troupers left

  this generation does not know

  what stage presence is

  personality
is what they lack

  personality

  where would they get

  the training my old friends

  got in the stock companies

  i knew mr booth very well

  says tom

  and a law should be passed

  preventing anybody else

  from ever playing

  in any play he ever

  played in

  there was a trouper for you

  i used to sit on his knee

  and purr when i was

  a kitten he used to tell me

  how much he valued my opinion

  finish is what they lack

  finish

  and they haven t got it

  here

  and again he laid his paw

  on his breast

  i remember mr daly very

  well too

  i was with mr daly s company

  for several years

  there was art for you

  there was team work

  there was direction

  they knew the theatre

  and they all had it

  here

  for two years mr daly

  would not ring up the curtain

  unless i was in the

  prompter s box

  they are amateurs nowadays

  rank amateurs all of them

  for two seasons i played

  the dog in joseph

  jefferson s rip van winkle

  it is true i never came

  on the stage

  but he knew i was just off

  and it helped him

  i would like to see

  one of your modern

  theatre cats

  act a dog so well

  that it would convince

  a trouper like jo jefferson

  but they haven t got it

  nowadays

  they haven t got it

  here

  jo jefferson had it he had it

  here

  i come of a long line

  of theatre cats

  my grandfather

  was with forrest

  he had it he was a real trouper

  my grandfather said

  he had a voice

  that used to shake

  the ferryboats

  on the north river

  once he lost his beard

  and my grandfather

  dropped from the

  fly gallery and landed

  under his chin

  and played his beard

  for the rest of the act

  you don t see any theatre

  cats that could do that

  nowadays

  they haven t got it they

  haven t got it

  here

  once i played the owl

  in modjeska s production

  of macbeth

  i sat above the castle gate

  in the murder scene

  and made my yellow

  eyes shine through the dusk

  like an owl s eyes

  modjeska was a real

  trouper she knew how to pick

  her support i would like

  to see any of these modern

  theatre cats play the owl s eyes