Nazareth: a Morality in
  One Act: by Laurence
  Housman




  Samuel French: Publisher
  28-30 West Thirty-eighth Street: New York
  LONDON
  Samuel French, Ltd.
  26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND




  Copyright, 1916
  By LAURENCE HOUSMAN


  CAUTION.--Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that
   “NAZARETH,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the
   United States, is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the play
   without the consent of the author or his authorized agent, will be
   liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right
   to produce “NAZARETH” must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th
   Street, New York City.


  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.




NAZARETH.




PROLOGUE.


    Since Love first looked on life with human eyes,
    Twixt him and us time like a curtain lies.
    Of all the years while He made life His own
    With dear familiar touch--how little’s known!
    The gospels of His Birth, the tale make plain
    Then two years till He died and rose again,
    Naught else remains to us of all, save when
    He, at Jerusalem, with learned men
    Was by His parents found, and taken thence
    Back to far Nazareth. And by no sense
    Of mortal mind from where they now lie hid
    Can we recover the fair things He did,
    Growing to man’s estate, that He might die
    For man’s salvation; hidden there they lie,
    The days which mounted up to Calvary.

    Yet here on earth that lovely deed was done;
    Love in man’s form took life from wind and sun,
    Waked, slept, ate bread, and toiled, and without speed,
    Patient, made test of each frail weak human need;
    Found means on small frail feet men’s ways to go;
    From mother tongue was taught man’s speech to know;
    So, for man’s making, childhood, boyhood, youth,
    Each he endowed in turn with deathless truth,
    Himself the type and pattern for each stage
    Of human growth. Oh! in what future age
    Shall we who, seeking that lost Pattern, roam,
    Find it again, and to that form come home?

    Ah, friends! this simple showing that ye see
    Of Love at Nazareth, this is not He!
    ’Tis but a thought, a fathering wish, a prayer
    That with hearts knit we may come closelier there,
    Where He lived lowly. Lo, He by your side
    Lies hidden, a waiting guest, still multiplied
    By man’s still growing needs,--with such intent
    He made humanity His Sacrament;
    The flesh and blood, which here we beat and bruise,
    Is Christ’s. Ah, put it to some better use!
    Be members all with all! Hear what Love saith,
    And make your home with Him at Nazareth!




NAZARETH


 SCENE:--_The Carpenter’s shop is a low, broad chamber built of wood.
     At the back to the left-center a wide open doorway reveals a level
     stretch of landscape. It is late afternoon, but the air is still
     pale with the heat of day. To the right of the door is a small
     square window with wooden shutters thrown wide; before it stands a
     carpenter’s bench upon which lies a wooden door frame nearly
     finished. The carpenter and his assistant are quietly at work
     planing, and boring holes for the fitting in of the rivets; beneath
     them the floor is strewn with shavings, saw-dust, and odds and ends
     of wood. Away to the left, near a spinning wheel, sits an aged
     woman combing flax. Against the wall to the same side of the
     doorway sits_ MARY, _the carpenter’s wife, with a book upon her
     knees; on the other side her son stands against the door-post, with
     his back to the interior, looking out into the sunshine._

     _After the scene has opened the carpenter raises himself from a
     stooping position, and hands over to_ REUBEN, _his assistant, a
     beam of wood, which the latter lays aside._

CARPENTER. ’Twill soon be done. Nay, we’ll not need that now. Yes,
speak on. If you read slowly enough, I can give heed.

MARY. (_Reading_). “Because his visage was so marred, many did marvel
at him then, for more than most his form was scarred, yea, more than
all the sons of men. Yet him shall all the nations hear, and kings
shall shut their mouths for fear.”

CARPENTER. (_To_ REUBEN) Be careful, now the cross-beam’s laid.

OLD ANNA. What cause have kings to be afraid?

MARY. (_Reading_) “Who hath believed our report? To whom is the Lord’s
arm revealed? He shall grow up in tender sort, and as a root from a dry
field, having no form nor comeliness, that men who see should scorn him
less.”

CARPENTER. Hold it fast, now! Nay, don’t let go.

MARY.--

    “He is rejected and despised,
    A man of sorrows, grief his lot,
    He came to us unrecognized,
    Despising, we esteemed him not.
    Surely our sorrows he hath borne,
    And for our sins hath felt the rod,
    Wherefore he seemed a shape for scorn----
    One smitten by the hand of God.
    But he was wounded for our sins,
    For our iniquities was scourged,
    By chastisement our peace he wins,
    And with his stripes mankind is purged.
    All we like sheep have gone astray,
    Turned everyone to his own way.
    And upon him the Lord doth lay
    The iniquity of all.”

 (OLD ANNA _touches her daughter, and points toward the child_.)

MARY. (_After a pause, watching him_)

    My son, what yonder dost thou see,
    That holds thy gaze so steadfastly?
    Come hither, child, and tell it me.

CHILD.--

    I see the land all parched and dry,
    And sheep, without a shepherd nigh,
    And surely some look like to die.

ANNA. I see no sheep.

MARY.--

    Nay, dearest one.
    Thine eyes are dazzled by the sun;
    See, in the field thy playmates run,
    Wilt thou not join them?

CHILD.--

    Mother, nay!
    I will not go with them to-day.

ANNA. He never was a child for play.

CHILD. Mother, what were you reading then?

MARY.--

    Isaiah’s prophecy how men
    Shall still be blind when God again
    Comes to save Zion and redeem
    His chosen ones.

CHILD. Was it a dream?
    Or did he see? How did he know?

MARY. He heard God’s word, and told men so.

CHILD. And was that many years ago?

MARY. Seven hundred years.

CHILD.--

    But having here
    His word to guide them, do men fear
    They will not see Salvation near?

ANNA. Aye! many fear it. I for one.

CARPENTER. There, that’s right! Now, ’tis almost done.

 (_The child turns towards the carpenter’s bench._)

MARY. Thou will not miss that sight, my son.

CARPENTER.--

    Come, little son, and hold the wood!
    Brace hard the end, while I make good
    The upright. See how crooked it stood!

CHILD. What art thou making, father?

CARPENTER.--

    Nay,
    See for thyself, my child, what way
    One grows to wisdom day by day.
    It is a door.

 (REUBEN _goes and takes a cup, dips it in a bowl of water near the door
     and drinks_.)

CHILD. Whose door?

CARPENTER.

    Why, mine,
    Till I’m paid for it!

CHILD. How came it thine?

CARPENTER. I made it.

CHILD. How?

CARPENTER.--

    Well, first I bought
    The timber; after that I wrought,
    Rough hewed and shaped it, leaving nought
    To chance--so that all parts agree
    When joined together. Dost thou see?
    Art satisfied?

CHILD. (_After a pause_) Who made the tree?

CARPENTER. (_After a pause_) God made the tree, my son.

CHILD.--

    And through
    Long years it put forth leaf, and grew
    In beauty till man came and slew.

 (_He caresses the wood, laying his face upon it_)

CARPENTER. Strange fancies still!

CHILD.--

    And so the tree
    Died, and gave up its life to be
    A door through which man passes free,
    To work God’s will.

CARPENTER.--

    Come, come, you waste
    Your father’s time, my son! Make haste,
    Reuben--we’ve got the lintel placed;
    Bring me the nails.

REUBEN. (_As he brings the nails and drives them in. Sings_)

    Oh, what is yon tree that stands so high
      And stretches its arms in sorrow?
    “Oh, that is the gallows where I must die,
      Where I must die to-morrow.”

    Oh, what hast thou done, my only son,
      That thou shouldst die to-morrow?
    “My life I lend to a well-loved friend
      Who health of me would borrow.”

    If so thou lend to a well-loved friend,
      How heavy must be his sorrow!
    “Ah, say not so, for well I know
      I hang by his hand to-morrow.”

 (_The child has taken the bag of nails from_ REUBEN, _and hands them
     to him, one by one, as he drives them in. One of the nails pierces
     the child’s palm. He bows his head over it._)

CARPENTER.--

    Why, there, there, there! You’ve done it now!
    Reuben, ’twas your fault to allow
    A little child like him to play
    With anything so sharp as they!

 (MARY _comes forward and kneels by the child’s side. She takes his
     hand and tries to staunch the blood_)

    Has it gone far?

MARY.--

    The wound is deep.
    Stay, I will bind it! See you keep
    Your hand up, child. Quick, mother, bring
    Yon water fresh-drawn from the spring
    To wash it clean, for there was rust.

 (ANNA _brings the water bowl, while_ REUBEN _draws forward a low bench
     at one end of which she sets it down_)

    Maybe, upon the iron, or dust
    To cause a festering in the wound.

 (MARY _bathes his hand and binds it. The child closes his eyes and
     sinks against her breast._)

ANNA.--

    Oh! See, he has already swooned
    For loss of blood.

MARY.--

    Nay, nay, ’tis sleep!
    Aye! saw you not how at the leap
    Of first sharp pain his face lit up,
    And how he bowed as to a cup
    His lips, and drained it to the lees?
    So to this spirit now comes ease
    And rest; for surely here he tastes
    Of that dark vintage of the wastes
    Whereto, for mortal need, he hastes.

CARPENTER. Strange words!

MARY.--

    But stranger than all words
    The peace which holds him now and herds
    My lamb’s life with the blessed dead.

 (_She moves to lay him along the bench._ ANNA _spreads a cloak across
     it_)

    Lift off the bowl, and let his head
    Rest so, even so.

CARPENTER.--

    There! Let him lie
    Quiet awhile. Ah! he won’t die
    Of that!

 (_He lays his hand kindly upon his wife, then turns away. Evening has
     begun to close in_)

    Now, Reuben, you and I
    Must stir while daylight yet allows!
    This door is for the High-Priest’s house,
    And should already be in its place
    For now Passover comes apace;
    And last night they sent word to say
    ’Twas to be up before the day,
    So that the lintel beam might bear
    The blood-marks for the coming year.

MARY. Look! There are stains already there!

CARPENTER. I’ll wash them off!

MARY.--

    Nay, let them stay!
    This blood, I trow, was shed to-day
    To take some mortal’s guilt away.

 (_The two men have lifted the door and set it to stand against the
     middle post of the doorway where it makes the form of three crosses
     standing together._)

CARPENTER.--

    Soon through this door the holy feet
    Of Caiaphas in service met
    Shall pass each day to do God’s will.

MARY.--

    And, what he hath ordained, fulfill.
    And some day they shall bring a Lamb
    And slay, and lo, upon the jamb
    And lintel of this self-same door,
    Where blessed blood has been before,
    More blessed blood shall then be spilt
    To take from Caiaphas his guilt.

 (_The men having put away their tools lift the door and carry it
     away._)

ANNA. (_Reading_) “He was taken from prison and from judgment, and who
shall declare his generation? For he was cut off out of the land of the
living, for the transgression of my people was he smitten. And he made
his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he
had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.”

 (_Voices of water-carriers heard without._)

1ST ANTIPHON. The bows of the mighty men are broken.

2ND ANTIPHON. And they that stumbled are girded with strength.

1ST ANTIPHON. They that were full have hired themselves for bread.

2ND ANTIPHON. And they that were hungry have ceased.

 (_The women pass by._)

1ST ANTIPHON. So that the barren hath born seven.

2ND ANTIPHON. And she that hath many children is waxed feeble.

1ST ANTIPHON.--

    The Lord killeth, and maketh alive.
    He bringeth down to the grave and bringeth up.

2ND ANTIPHON. The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich. He bringeth low and
lifteth up.

MARY. It is the women going to the well.

ANNA. What are they singing?

MARY.--

    Of the joy that fell,
    To Anna for her first-born, Samuel.

ANNA. And thy joy also!

MARY. And the pain as well!

1ST ANTIPHON. He raiseth the poor out of the dust.

2ND ANTIPHON. And lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill.

1ST ANTIPHON. To set them among the princes.

2ND ANTIPHON. And to make them inherit the throne of glory.

1ST ANTIPHON. He will keep the feet of his saints.

2ND ANTIPHON. And the wicked shall be silent in darkness.

1ST ANTIPHON. For by strength shall no man prevail.

2ND ANTIPHON. The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken in pieces.

 (_The voices pass away. It begins to grow dark._)

ANNA. (_Sings as she winds her flax_)

    Little child, lo, I spin
    Flax to clothe thy body in;
    Little child, do not grieve
    Out of this a cloth I’ll weave,
    Make of it a little shirt,----
    What man shall do thee hurt?
    So while it lasts, wear it still,
    What man shall wish thee ill?
    Do not from thy body strip
    This; ’tis human fellowship.

 (_She lays the cloth over the child_)

MARY.--

    When thou to death art bowed
    This web shall be thy shroud.
    So in fellowship with all
    Thy soul shall meet God’s call,
    Oh, then, may my soul, too,
    Wake and see the darkness through
    And my ears, no longer bound,
    List, to the heavenly sound!

 (_A pause._ ANNA _lights a small lamp. As she goes to place it in the
     window she stops. Its light falls on the sleeping child_)

MARY.--

    See, from his face has passed the pain.
    And every sense of heart and brain
    Is gathered unto rest again.
    O son, O child, while round thy sleep
    The peace of God lies folded deep,
    Thou can’st not hear thy mother weep.
    Oh, me, the anguish and the dread
    Of that dark hour which lies ahead
    When I shall see thee lying dead.
    Clay, cold, and all my cares undone!
    O perfect, pure, and stainless one,
    My son, my own, my little son.

 (_A sound of sheep passing is heard. A shepherd stops at the door, and
     looks in. He draws off his hat._)

SHEPHERD. God’s peace be in this house. (_He goes on his way_)

ANNA. Again!

MARY. Who spoke?

ANNA.--

    The shepherd from the plain,
    The stranger, so last night he came
    And stayed to greet us in God’s name,
    Then went.

MARY.--

    And there were others, too,
    Who also stayed.

 (_A stranger passes the door._)

STRANGER. Peace be with you!

MARY. God give you peace. (_She rises and turns_)

ANNA. Nay, he is gone.

MARY.--

    Oh, strange! And more will come anon,
    And each one turning from his way,
    Wilt halt here at the door to say
    Some word, or show by look or sign
    That here peace dwells!

 (_Enter an old man._)

OLD MAN.--

    Yes, peace is thine!
    I would, I would to God, such peace were mine.

 (_Enter a little child, led by its mother. The little one kneels
     beside the bench where the other child is laid._)

LITTLE CHILD.--

    Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
    Look upon a little child,
    Pity my simplicity,
    And suffer me to come to thee!

 (_The mother lifts the little one from its knees and carries it away._)

OLD MAN. (_Weeping, he stands in the child’s place_)

    I’m an old sinner, oft have I gone the road
    Of mine own will, so now I bear the load;
    And in my body grief has come to pass!
    Surely, the preacher saith, all flesh is grass,
    And goodliness the flower of the field.
    Lo, the wind passeth, and its day is o’er,
    And in his place man’s name is known no more.
    God give us peace.

 (_He kneels. While he speaks others have entered. The scene has grown
     dark. One of the men carries a lantern_)

1ST MAN. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of our
God shall stand forever.

2ND MAN. Son of God, shine on us!

 (_All kneel._)

3RD MAN. Lamb of God, look on us!

4TH MAN. Shepherd of men, set thy sign on us!

5TH MAN. And lay thy yoke on us!

1ST MAN. And we will be thankful.

 (_The moon rises. Outside the door, others are seen kneeling: men,
     women and children._)

ALL. Hail, Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee! Blessed art thou
among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb: Jesus. Holy Mary,
Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

 (_One by one the men rise and go out. The crowd outside also
     disappears._ ANNA _goes and closes the doors, and the shutter of
     the window. The house is flooded with moonlight._ MARY _kneels at
     the head of the sleeping child. Voices are heard singing._)

VOICES.--

    Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum!
    Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et Benedictus
    Fructus ventris tui, Jesus!


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four acts by MOLIERE. One of the best-known comedies of the celebrated
master of comedy. “The Gentleman Tradesman” ridicules the affectations
of M. Jourdain, a rich parvenu. 9 men, 5 women. PRICE 50 CENTS.

=THE SICILIAN= (Le Sicilien), a farce in two scenes by MOLIERE. One of
the lighter comedies of intrigue. This play is laid in Sicily, and has
to do with the capture of a beautiful Greek slave from her selfish and
tyrannical master. 4 men, 3 women. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=DOCTOR LOVE= (L’Amour Medecin), a farce in three acts by MOLIERE. An
uproarious farce, satirizing the medical profession. Through it runs
the story of a young girl who pretends to be ill in order that she may
marry the man she loves. 5 men, 4 women. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE AFFECTED YOUNG LADIES= (Les Precieuses Ridicules), a comedy in
one act by MOLIERE. The famous satire on intellectual and social
affectation. Like most of Moliere’s plays, the theme in this is ever
modern. 3 women, 6 men. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=I’M GOING!= A comedy in one act by TRISTAN BERNARD. A delightful bit
of comedy of obstinacy and reconciliation. 1 man, 1 woman. PRICE 25
CENTS.

=THE FAIRY= (La Fee), a romantic comedy in one act by OCTAVE FEUILLET.
Laid in a hut in Normandy, this little comedy is full of poetic charm
and quiet humor. The element of the supernatural is introduced in order
to drive home a strong lesson. 1 woman, 3 men. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE VILLAGE= (Le Village), a comedy in one act by OCTAVE FEUILLET. The
author here paints the picture of an elderly couple, and shows that
they have not realized their happiness until it is on the point of
being taken from them. 2 women, 2 men. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE BENEFICENT BEAR=, a comedy in three acts, by GOLDONI. One of the
best-known comedies of the Father of Italian Comedy. A costume piece
laid in 18th century France, the principal character in which is a
good-hearted, though gruff, old uncle. 4 men, 3 women. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=GRAMMAR= (La Grammaire), a farce in one act by LABICHE. An amusing
and charming comedy by one of the greatest of 19th century French
dramatists. 4 men, 1 woman. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE TWO COWARDS= (Les Deux Timides), a comedy in one act by LABICHE.
A very amusing and human little comedy, in which a strong-willed girl
helps her father choose for her the man she wishes to marry. 2 women, 3
men. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE DOCTOR IN SPITE OF HIMSELF=, by MOLIERE. A famous farce by the
greatest of French dramatists. Sganarelle has to be beaten before he
will acknowledge that he is a doctor, which he is not. He then works
apparently miraculous cures. The play is a sharp satire on the medical
profession in the 17th Century. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=BRIGNOL AND HIS DAUGHTER=, by CAPUS. The first comedy in English of
the most sprightly and satirical of present-day French dramatists.
PRICE 50 CENTS.

=CHOOSING A CAREER=, by G. A. DE CAILLAVET. Written by one of the
authors of “Love Watches.” A farce of mistaken identity, full of
humorous situations and bright lines. PRICE 25 CENTS.

=FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER=, by TRISTAN BERNARD. A clever farce by one
of the most successful of French dramatists. It is concerned with the
difficulties of a bogus-interpreter who does not know a word of French.
PRICE 25 CENTS.

=PATER NOSTER=, a poetic play in one act, by FRANCOIS COPPEE. A
pathetic incident of the time of the Paris Commune, in 1871. PRICE 25
CENTS.

=THE ROMANCERS=, a comedy in three acts, by EDMOND ROSTAND. New
translation of this celebrated and charming little romantic play by the
famous author of “Cyrano de Bergerac” and “Chantecler.” PRICE 25 CENTS.

=THE MERCHANT GENTLEMAN=, (Le Bourgeois Gentil-homme), by MOLIERE. New
translation of one of Moliere’s comic masterpieces, a play which is
peculiarly well adapted to amateur production. PRICE 50 CENTS.

 *       *       *       *       *




 Transcriber’s note

 Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. All other
 inconsistencies are as in the original.