A Free Man of Color

John Guare

• Editorial: Grove Press
• Año: 2011
• ISBN:
  9780802195005
• Categoría: Littérature
• Categoría: Théâtre américain

The Tony Award-winning playwright spins "a tale of adultery, racism and the Louisiana Purchase…with daring and dizzying skill" (Ben Brantley, The New York Times ). The author of classics American plays such as Six Degrees of Separation and The House of Blue Leaves, Tony and Obie Award-winning playwright John Guare is celebrated for his theatrically playful, intellectually dazzling imagination. His play " A Free Man of Color evolves from a bustling farce into something deeper and darker but similarly exhilarating" ( USA Today ). A Free Man of Color is set in boisterous New Orleans prior to the historic Louisiana Purchase. Before law and order took hold and class, racial, and political lines were drawn, New Orleans was a carnival of beautiful women, flowing wine, and pleasure for the taking. At the center of this Dionysian world is Jacques Cornet, a mixed-race gentleman who commands men, seduces women, and preens like a peacock. But it is 1801 and the map of New Orleans is about to be redrawn. The Louisiana Purchase brings American rule and racial segregation to the chaotic, colorful world of Jacques Cornet and all that he represents, turning the tables on freedom and liberty.

ACT TWO

The Ball. Music and dancing. The gun shot. Everyone stops. Then they resume dancing. The second gun shot. A moment of alarm. Then everyone returns to the spirit of the ball. Margery enters, costumed as a boy and carrying a mask.

MARGERY (to us)What a world of fine folks here is. But I don’t see the gentleman that loves me. I have got the Louisiana disease they call love. When I think of my husband, I have the inclination to vomit, but when I think of my dear mystery man, my hot fever comes, and I am in a fever indeed and need to be where he is. Oh sick sick. Where? There!

Margery throws herself at a masked man. It’s Pincepousse.

PINCEPOUSSEYou’ll not dance with any man. Tonight you’re a man.

MARGERYI’ll yet find the man who owns my soul.

Dr. T enters, carrying Jacques’ shot-up breeches.

DR. T (quiet, to Morales)Someone has shot Jacques Cornet.

MORALESIs he dead?

DR. TIn a manner of speaking.

MORALES (shock, then glee)Tell it to me again.

DR. TAnd I trust you to tell no one this humiliating event.

MORALESNo one. My oath.

DR. TNaturally, the news travels.

Morales runs to Pincepousse and whispers.

PINCEPOUSSEThank God!

HARCOURTI have an alibi!

ALCIBIADEI better have an alibi!

PINCEPOUSSEI don’t want an alibi.

CREUXIs no man safe in New Orleans?

DOÑA POLISSENAYou’re safe, dear. You’re safe.

DOÑA SMERELDAGod cannot be so cruel!

MRS. SPARKSMy joy is amputated!

LADY HARCOURTI am buried alive!

DOÑA SMERALDASuicide!

MME DORILANTEMy life is over!

DOÑA SMERALDA (to Dr. T)There’s nothing you can do?

DR. T (showing her the breeches)The pistol’s aim was impeccable.

Doña Smeralda is inconsolable.

MORALESAnother jereboam of champagne!

THE MENLet’s toast!

ALCIBIADELet’s raise a statue to the man who did it.

PYTHAGORENo! Raise a statue to Cornet.

HARCOURTWill it be before or after his loss?

PYTHAGOREAfter! A great wind will blow through its lower portions!

HARCOURTHas he truly become a berdache?

SPARKSA what?

HARCOURTA berdache is a North American Indian transvestite. Let’s call Jacques Berdache!

DORILANTEBerdache! Berdache!

MORALES (to Pincepousse)Nova Spania lives! Get Jacques’ money before it’s too late.

PINCEPOUSSE (nodding)Where is Margery? Margery!

Pincepousse finds Margery and drags her out. Murmur enters, carrying a number of wills.

DR. TMurmur arrives. He takes each of the husbands aside.

MURMUR (to each, separately distributing the wills)Supreme Intendante.

Mr. Sparks.

Monsieur Dorilante.

Harcourt.

Read the final wishes from the pen of a dying man.

MORALES (reads)A last will and testament? Good god!

DORILANTE (reads)I am his sole heir!

SPARKS (reads)He leaves me everything?

HARCOURT (reads)His fortune comes to me?

MURMURThe wax is warm yet and the ink scarce dry upon the parchment.

SPARKSBy what good chance, sweet Murmur?

DORILANTEWhy would heaven befriend me?

HARCOURTAre you sure?

MURMURYour dessert, sir; I know no second cause.

I oft have heard Jacques say, how he admired You.

You.

You.

You.

So wise, so grave; when every word

your worship but lets fall, is a pearl of great price.

MORALES’Tis true.

SPARKSHe sees me as I am.

DORILANTEI loved the man!

HARCOURTHow much money does Jacques Cornet have?

MURMUREnough to sink a sloop.

HARCOURTOr let one sail. How can I be of service while he lives?

DORILANTEHow may I show my gratitude before death snatches him away?

SPARKS—let the man know I loved him?

MORALES—give comfort...