The Noble Lord, by Percival 
Wilde 
 
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Title: The Noble Lord A Comedy in One Act 
Author: Percival Wilde 
Release Date: November 23, 2006 [EBook #19904] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE 
NOBLE LORD *** 
 
Produced by William Coon 
 
THE NOBLE LORD A Comedy In One Act 
By PERCIVAL WILDE 
The Noble Lord
CHARACTERS HE. SHE. PETERS. 
THE NOBLE LORD 
A secluded spot in the Maine woods in the neighborhood of a summer 
hotel. It is the middle of July. The trees are covered with foliage, a hot 
sun casts dancing shadows upon the mossy ground, and the air is full of 
the twittering of birds and the rustle of leaves. A winding path crosses 
from one side to the other, and near the center is a little clearing: the 
stump of a felled tree, with the lichen-covered trunk itself near it, and a 
patch of grassy turf. The eye cannot penetrate far through the riotously 
growing underbrush, but as one looks upwards, to the left, a thinning of 
foliage, allowing a glimpse of the sky, gives evidence of the near 
proximity of some small body of water. 
As the curtain rises the scene is empty. There is only the song of birds, 
and the whisper of a gentle breeze. For a few seconds nothing else is 
heard. Then, suddenly, not far away, there is the sound of a splash, 
followed by the scream of a drowning woman, "Help! Help! Help!" 
There is a tremendous crashing through the underbrush, and another 
voice, very masculine, very English, shouts, "Where are you? Where 
are you?" Rather indefinitely the first speaker answers, "Here! Help! 
Help!" Another crashing through the underbrush, followed by a second 
splash, and presently, after a short pause, there enters upon the stage a 
tall, much bedraggled Englishman, bearing in his arms the motionless 
body of an extremely good-looking girl. Both of them are very wet, and 
a trail of water marks their progress across the scene. Reaching the 
clearing, the Englishman methodically deposits the girl on the ground, 
backs away a foot or so, and notices that his hands are wet. He reaches 
into a hip pocket and draws forth a handkerchief: the handkerchief is 
wetter than his hands. With a gesture of vexation he throws it away, 
and gives his attention to the girl. He looks at her quizzically; then, 
rather timidly, he kneels at her side, and lays his ear over her heart. He 
rises promptly with a satisfied nod, carefully removes his dripping coat, 
folds it neatly, and places it on the log. Again he kneels, this time with 
his knees on either side of the girl's head, and laboriously begins to 
apply the Sylvester method, counting audibly as he does so. At "ten" he
stops wearily, pauses, and again applies his ear to her heart. The result 
is evidently pleasing, and after a few more Sylvester movements, he 
begins to vary the procedure by removing her shoes and alternately 
chafing her hands and feet. Presently she sighs deeply. For the third 
time he pauses to listen to her heart. Slowly and deliberately her left 
arm rises, to encircle his neck in a confiding clasp. He sits back on his 
haunches, politely surprised. 
SHE. (Faintly) Mother! Mother, dear! 
HE. Eh? 
SHE. Mother, dear, I'm so glad---- 
HE. (Interrupting energetically) Really, I beg your pardon. 
SHE. (Continuing without a break) I'm so glad you've come. 
HE. Ah, yes. . . . Quite so. 
SHE. Kiss me, mother. 
HE. (Trying to rise) Eh? 
(She does not release him.) 
SHE. Kiss me, mother. 
HE. But I'm not your mother. 
SHE. (Plaintively) Won't you kiss me, mother? 
HE. (Looks around furtively. Then he obliges her.) 
SHE. Ah! That's so nice. (She pauses. Shudders.) Hold me close, 
mother, hold me close. I've had such a terrible dream! 
HE. Good Heavens! You're not dreaming now. . . .
SHE. I dreamt--I dreamt-- (He has raised her to a sitting position. She 
stops abruptly. Looks about.) Where--where am I? 
HE. (Surprised) Don't you know? 
SHE. No. 
HE. (In a matter-of-fact tone) We are about half a mile away from the 
Poland Springs Hotel, Poland Springs, Maine. 
SHE. (Vaguely) Oh! (She pauses.) And you, how do you come here? 
HE. Strolling. 
SHE. Strolling? 
HE. I reached the hotel this morning. It was hot--beastly hot. I went for 
a walk in the woods. 
SHE. And then? 
HE. I beg your pardon? 
SHE. What    
    
		
	
	
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