Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway (Stage play)

PETER Dear Mrs. Richard Dalloway, the perfect hostess.

MRS. DALLOWAY Honestly, Peter, beginning your letter with a tone.

(Mrs. Dalloway folds the letter and returns it to its envelope. Living Room Stage lights up: Bourton/Westminster. Clarissa watches.)

Lucy, I’ve changed my mind again. I prefer the silver rimmed China set as oppose to the gold.

Gold feels tiresome for some reason. Mrs. Fellowes used gold during her bridge game last month. And please use a damp towel to remove the spots. Richard is a stickler for spots…in fact, Lucy, it’s best we simply re-wash the whole set.

(Mrs. Dalloway begins to exit.)

CLARISSA Dear Mrs. Richard Dalloway, the perfect hostess.

(Mrs. Dalloway stops. Considers. She returns to Peter’s letter and opens it.)

PETER I begin with the words of Alexander Pope who said, “our proper bliss depends on what we blame.” And as it stands, Clarissa, I blame India. It’s intolerable. Savage. The geckos scurry across my bed at all hours of the night. Curry may as well be added to the water as it’s in everything else. And the smell of the streets would make an English sewer blush. These brutes haven’t thought to put springs in the mattress. My back has dissolved into proper mush. I miss genuine tea. I miss chilled air. I miss England...

(Mrs. Dalloway folds the letter and drops it on the ground.)

MRS. DALLOWAY Lucy, there's some rubbish on the veranda. Could you be a doll and pick it up?

(Mrs. Dalloway begins to exit. Peter advances.)

PETER I was out of line.

MRS. DALLOWAY It was years ago.

PETER You were standing alone, in the garden, next to the three-tiered fountain. I thought it was to be a moment for our beginning. It was to be the start of Mrs. Clarissa Walsh.

Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway by Daniel Roche 7