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Act Three
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Hammill Peter
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1
(Immediately afterwards, Madeline Usher enters, in a trance)
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MADELINE Carriages at seven
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I shall wear the flower he gave me
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It's so cold here
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deep beneath the lapping water...
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The water
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The water
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My love
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Head against his shoulder,
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'cross the lawn I hear the music...
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Silent blackness,
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In the lake I'm sinking slowly...
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Oh, how lovely,
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nothing could be more becoming...
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Underwater,
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floating in the icy darkness...
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Count the candles
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'May I dance with you this evening?'...
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On the surface
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Swans are feeding high above me...
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Hold him tightly
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round and round the floor we're spinning
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Breathing water
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I am drowning
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Watch the sun rise
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driving home across the meadows...
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All is darkness
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I can feel myself dissolving
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The water
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The water
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The darkness
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The darkness
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My love
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Head against his shoulder
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Floating in the icy darkness
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Hold him tightly
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I can feel myself dissolving
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Oh how lovely
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Deep beneath the lapping water
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Count the candles
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I am drowning I am drowning
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Count the candles
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Floating in the icy darkness
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Hold him tightly
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I can feel myself dissolving
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Oh how lovely
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Deep beneath the lapping water
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Count the candles
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I am drowning
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Oh how lovely
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I am drowning I am drowning
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Oh how lovely
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Oh how lovely
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Oh how lovely
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MONTRESOR Stop, Madeline, look at me!
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My god, man, what is wrong with her?
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USHER Yes, it's right you should know,
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She is dying!
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I have not dared to speak of it.
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A chronic catalepsy had drained her of her youth.
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I have watched her waste away and could do nothing!
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A period of health is followed by sudden coma,
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death-like sleep.
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It can last a full day or more,
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no movement, no colour, no flame in the cheeks.
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MONTRESOR What, then of these dreaming visions?
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USHER The recovery, ah, this is even worse!
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She rises and moves about the house
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but her mind still sleeps...
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You see her now a mindless ghost:
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Beautiful, dead eyes stare in sleep, unrecognising.
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She speaks in dreams, sees only dreams,
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she haunts the house in hideous sleepwalking
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and may not be restrained, for like some automaton
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she tirelessly thrusts and tears herself
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against her fetters,
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heedless of injury.
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And so she walks and then she wakes,
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remembering nothing, so week that she can
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barely build up strength before she is struck down again.
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Month after month each attack worse than the last.
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Death will not wait long.
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Her final days are flickering past.
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Dear God,
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helpless,
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helpless!
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MONTRESOR But what is the word from her doctors?
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Do they hold out no hope, nor offer any treatment?
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USHER MONTRESOR CHORUS
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They do not understand
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her case
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and cannot treat a case
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they do not understand
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He does not understand
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You're dealing with a case
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Who is her doctor,
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a specialist I trust?
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Yes indeed, one of
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the foremost rank
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You're dealing
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with a case
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Then he will help her,
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Montresor oh, yes,
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no more of this he surely must You do not understand
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now
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no more talk He does not
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of cures, please, understand
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Or of doctor.
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I bless you concern,
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but know that she
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will walk no more tonight.
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When she wakes soon
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she will need my care.
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I must be there, so,
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dear friend, goodnight.
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(Usher exits with Madeline, leaving Montresor alone. The Herbalist enters)
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THE HERBALIST Good evening, sir.
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And you must be the friend of Mister Usher.
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I'm so pleased to meet you, sir,
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but have little time to spare
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for knowledge such as mine is wanted everywhere.
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In poor dwellings, yes, but some as great as Usher's.
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My card...
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MONTRESOR 'J. Ducrow, Esq. Herbalist,
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Doctor of Natural Medicine'...
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HERBALIST At you service, and it could be, sir,
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that you have need of my panaceas now...
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I have Mandrake juice that will slake any fever,
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cures to convince you though you be an unbeliever now...
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Laugh - would you? - at these seeds of mine.
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You question the cure's causes,
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but Logic and Reason do not answer,
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and Nature runs her courses.
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I have purest poppy for the soundest of sleeps;
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a pure cake of hemp plant
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that's a warranted surcease of worldly sorrow.
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Lying words will be believed
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if perfumed by this pastil,
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or my elixir's guaranteed
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to bend the will of fairest womankind.
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Scheme, would you, for a worldly gain?
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Lust after a frigid virgin?
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My herbs can grant your secret cravings
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and my price is modest!
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MONTRESOR No! No!
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HERBALIST And my price is modest...
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MONTRESOR No, thank you! No!
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HERBALIST Oh it's very modest...
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MONTRESOR No, no thank you!
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No!
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No thank you,
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No!
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HERBALIST Perhaps a poultice of Toadbane
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for weakness of the manly parts,
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caused by too much wine or age,
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perhaps by over-frequent natural indulgence...
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Applied with skill, it will
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revive the fleshy passions of a corpse...
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...of a corpse
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MONTRESOR I said no
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I meant no!
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HERBALIST Well then, Good-day...
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MONTRESOR So that is Usher's idea of a doctor!
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That wretched mountebank can't help them.
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I confront madness face to face!
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And whatever it's cause, it lies within this place
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I breathe an atmosphere of sorrow;
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an alien despair makes my courage fail,
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like the collapse of an opium vision,
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the hideous dropping of the veil
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CHORUS Tormented by a thousand doubts and fancies,
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he will not sleep tonight.
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Chilled by the gloom of his surroundings,
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mortal, half-dead mortar.
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MONTRESOR CHORUS
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He will not sleep!
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I see simple solutions
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He will not sleep!
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State them laud and clear,
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but the echoes of the House He will not sleep!
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shout 'Unreason!'
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The one thing that I fear.
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The evil that is done
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cannot be undone.
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The evil that will come
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cannot be prevented.
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The evil that is done
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Yet somehow I must help
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these two tormented souls,
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cannot be undone.
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for if I cannot, who will?
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The evil that will come
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These are the friends
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I've loved so dearly...
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cannot be prevented
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Leave!
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No! What a monstrous thought!
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Depart!
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How could I even think of it!
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Go!
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Abandon those who have need of me!
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Leave!
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Oh, but what a temptation,
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Depart!
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to run like a thief in the night,
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Go!
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And yet now I cannot
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because it is too late Before it is too late,
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I feel myself bound up in before you are bound up in
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the web of fear and pain, the web of fear and pain,
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the evil that surrounds me. the evil that surrounds you.
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It cannot be undone.
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It cannot be undone.
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The evil that will come
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cannot be prevented.
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End of Act Three
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