  Scene I: A studio apartment in an upper story, Washington Square South. Through an immense north window in the back wall appear tree tops and the upper part of the Washington Arch. Beyond it you look up Fifth Avenue. Near the window is a big table, loaded at one end with serious-looking books and austere scientific periodicals. At the other end are architect’s drawings, blue prints, dividing compasses, square, ruler, etc. At the left is a door leading to the rest of the apartment; at the right the outer door. A breakfast table is set for three, but only two are seated at it—Henrietta and Stephen Brewster. As the curtains withdraw Steve pushes back his coffee cup and sits dejected. Henrietta It isn’t the coffee, Steve dear. There’s nothing the matter with the coffee. There’s something the matter with you. Steve [Doggedly.] There may be something the matter with my stomach. Henrietta [Scornfully.] Your stomach! The trouble is not with your stomach but in your subconscious mind. Steve Subconscious piffle! [Takes morning paper and tries to read. Henrietta Steve, you never used to be so disagreeable. You certainly have got some sort of a complex. You’re all inhibited. You’re no longer open to new ideas. You won’t listen to a word about psychoanalysis. Steve A word! I’ve listened to volumes! Henrietta You’ve ceased to be creative in architecture—your work isn’t going well. You’re not sleeping well— Steve How can I sleep, Henrietta, when you’re always waking me up to find out what I’m dreaming? Henrietta But dreams are so important, Steve. If you’d tell yours to Dr. Russell he’d find out exactly what’s wrong with you. Steve There’s nothing wrong with me. Henrietta You don’t even talk as well as you used to. Steve Talk? I can’t say a thing without you looking at me in that dark fashion you have when you’re on the trail of a complex. Henrietta This very irritability indicates that you’re suffering from some suppressed desire. Steve I’m suffering from a suppressed desire for a little peace. Henrietta Dr. Russell is doing simply wonderful things with nervous cases. Won’t you go to him, Steve? Steve [Slamming down his newspaper.] No, Henrietta, I won’t! Henrietta But, Stephen—! Steve Tst! I hear Mabel coming. Let’s not be at each other’s throats the first day of her visit. [He takes out cigarettes. Mabel comes in from door left, the side opposite Steve, so that he is facing her. She is wearing a rather fussy negligee in contrast to Henrietta, who wears “radical” clothes. Mabel is what is called plump. Mabel Good morning. Henrietta Oh, here you are, little sister. Steve Good morning, Mabel. [Mabel nods to him and turns, her face lighting up, to Henrietta. Henrietta [Giving Mabel a hug as she leans against her.] It’s so good to have you here. I was going to let you sleep, thinking you’d be tired after the long trip. Sit down. There’ll be fresh toast in a minute and [Rising] will you have— Mabel Oh, I ought to have told you, Henrietta. Don’t get anything for me. I’m not eating breakfast. Henrietta [At first in mere surprise.] Not eating breakfast? [She sits down, then leans toward Mabel who is seated now, and scrutinizes her. Steve [Half to himself.] The psychoanalytical look! Henrietta Mabel, why are you not eating breakfast? Mabel [A little startled.] Why, no particular reason. I just don’t care much for breakfast, and they say it keeps down—[A hand on her hip—the gesture of one Henrietta Don’t you sleep well? Did you sleep well last night? Mabel Oh, yes, I slept all right. Yes, I slept fine last night, only [Laughing] I did have the funniest dream! Steve S-h! S-t! Henrietta [Moving closer.] And what did you dream, Mabel? Steve Look-a-here, Mabel, I feel it’s my duty to put you on. Don’t tell Henrietta your dreams. If you do she’ll find out that you have an underground desire to kill your father and marry your mother— Henrietta Don’t be absurd, Stephen Brewster. [Sweetly to Mabel.] What was your dream, dear? Mabel [Laughing.] Well, I dreamed I was a hen. Henrietta A hen? Mabel Yes; and I was pushing along through a crowd as fast as I could, but being a hen I couldn’t walk very Henrietta [Resting chin in palm and peering.] You say you became much excited? Mabel [Laughing.] Oh, yes; I was in a terrible state. Henrietta [Leaning back, murmurs.] This is significant. Steve She dreams she’s a hen. She is told to step lively. She becomes violently agitated. What can it mean? Henrietta [Turning impatiently from him.] Mabel, do you know anything about psychoanalysis? Mabel [Feebly.] Oh—not much. No—I—[Brightening.] It’s something about the war, isn’t it? Steve Not that kind of war. Mabel [Abashed.] I thought it might be the name of a new explosive. Steve It is. Mabel [Apologetically to Henrietta, who is frowning.] You see, Henrietta, I—we do not live in touch with intellectual things, as you do. Bob being a dentist—somehow our friends— Steve [Softly.] Oh, to be a dentist! [Goes to window and stands looking out. Henrietta Don’t you see anything more of that editorial writer—what was his name? Mabel Lyman Eggleston? Henrietta Yes, Eggleston. He was in touch with things. Don’t you see him? Mabel Yes, I see him once in a while. Bob doesn’t like him very well. Henrietta Your husband does not like Lyman Eggleston? [Mysteriously.] Mabel, are you perfectly happy with your husband? Steve [Sharply.] Oh, come now, Henrietta—that’s going a little strong! Henrietta Are you perfectly happy with him, Mabel? [Steve goes to work-table. Mabel Why—yes—I guess so. Why—of course I am! Henrietta Are you happy? Or do you only think you are? Or do you only think you ought to be? Mabel Why, Henrietta, I don’t know what you mean! Steve [Seizes stack of books and magazines and dumps them on the breakfast table.] This is what she means, Mabel. Psychoanalysis. My work-table groans with it. Books by Freud, the new Messiah; books by Jung, the new St. Paul; the Psychoanalytical Review—back numbers two-fifty per. Mabel But what’s it all about? Steve All about your sub-un-non-conscious mind and desires you know not of. They may be doing you a great deal of harm. You may go crazy with them. Oh, yes! People are doing it right and left. Your dreaming you’re a hen— [Shakes his head darkly. Henrietta Any fool can ridicule anything. Mabel [Hastily, to avert a quarrel.] But what do you say it is, Henrietta? Steve [Looking at his watch.] Oh, if Henrietta’s going to start that! [During Henrietta’s next speech settles himself at work-table and sharpens a lead pencil. Henrietta It’s like this, Mabel. You want something. You think you can’t have it. You think it’s wrong. So you try to think you don’t want it. Your mind protects you—avoids pain—by refusing to think the forbidden thing. But it’s there just the same. It stays there shut up in your unconscious mind, and it festers. Steve Sort of an ingrowing mental toenail. Henrietta Precisely. The forbidden impulse is there full of energy which has simply got to do something. It breaks into your consciousness in disguise, masks itself in dreams, makes all sorts of trouble. In extreme cases it drives you insane. Mabel [With a gesture of horror.] Oh! Henrietta [Reassuring.] But psychoanalysis has found out how to save us from that. It brings into consciousness the suppressed desire that was making all the trouble. Psychoanalysis is simply the latest scientific method of preventing and curing insanity. Steve [From his table.] It is also the latest scientific method of separating families. Henrietta [Mildly.] Families that ought to be separated. Steve The Dwights, for instance. You must have met them, Mabel, when you were here before. Helen was living, apparently, in peace and happiness with good old Joe. Well—she went to this psychoanalyzer—she was “psyched,” and biff!—bang!—home she comes with an unsuppressed desire to leave her husband. [He starts work, drawing lines on a drawing board with a T-square. Mabel How terrible! Yes, I remember Helen Dwight. But—but did she have such a desire? Steve First she’d known of it. Mabel And she left him? Henrietta [Coolly.] Yes, she did. Mabel Wasn’t he kind to her? Henrietta Why yes, good enough. Mabel Wasn’t he kind to her. Henrietta Oh, yes—kind to her. Mabel And she left her good kind husband—! Henrietta Oh, Mabel! “Left her good, kind husband!” How naÏve—forgive me, dear, but how bourgeoise you are! She came to know herself. And she had the courage! Mabel I may be very naÏve and—bourgeoise—but I don’t see the good of a new science that breaks up homes. [Steve applauds. Steve In enlightening Mabel, we mustn’t neglect to mention Mabel Why, I think it is terrible, Henrietta! It would be better if we didn’t know such things about ourselves. Henrietta No, Mabel, that is the old way. Mabel But—but her employer? Is he married? Steve [Grunts.] Wife and four children. Mabel Well, then, what good does it do the girl to be told she has a desire for him? There’s nothing can be done about it. Henrietta Old institutions will have to be reshaped so that something can be done in such cases. It happens, Mabel, that this suppressed desire was on the point of landing Mary Snow in the insane asylum. Are you so tight-minded that you’d rather have her in the insane asylum than break the conventions? Mabel But—but have people always had these awful suppressed desires? Henrietta Always. Steve But they’ve just been discovered. Henrietta The harm they do has just been discovered. And free, sane people must face the fact that they have to be dealt with. Mabel [Stoutly.] I don’t believe they have them in Chicago. Henrietta [Business of giving Mabel up.] People “have them” wherever the living Libido—the center of the soul’s energy—is in conflict with petrified moral codes. That means everywhere in civilization. Psychoanalysis— Steve Good God! I’ve got the roof in the cellar! Henrietta The roof in the cellar! Steve [Holding plan at arm’s length.] That’s what psychoanalysis does! Henrietta That’s what psychoanalysis could un-do. Is it any wonder I’m concerned about Steve? He dreamed the other night that the walls of his room melted away Steve [Hurling his ruined plan viciously to the floor.] Suppressed hell! Henrietta You speak more truly than you know. It is through suppressions that hells are formed in us. Mabel [Looking at Steve, who is tearing his hair.] Don’t you think it would be a good thing, Henrietta, if we went somewhere else? [They rise and begin to pick up the dishes. Mabel drops a plate which breaks. Henrietta draws up short and looks at her—the psychoanalytic look.] I’m sorry, Henrietta. One of the Spode plates, too. [Surprised and resentful as Henrietta continues to peer at her.] Don’t take it so to heart, Henrietta. Henrietta I can’t help taking it to heart. Mabel I’ll get you another. [Pause. More sharply as Henrietta does not answer.] I said I’ll get you another plate, Henrietta. Henrietta It’s not the plate. Mabel For heaven’s sake, what is it then? Henrietta It’s the significant little false movement that made you drop it. Mabel Well, I suppose everyone makes a false movement once in a while. Henrietta Yes, Mabel, but these false movements all mean something. Mabel [About to cry.] I don’t think that’s very nice! It was just because I happened to think of that Mabel Snow you were talking about— Henrietta Mabel Snow! Mabel Snow—Snow—well, what was her name, then? Henrietta Her name is Mary. You substituted your own name for hers. Mabel Well, Mary Snow, then; Mary Snow. I never heard her name but once. I don’t see anything to make such a fuss about. Henrietta [Gently.] Mabel dear—mistakes like that in names— Mabel [Desperately.] They don’t mean something, too, do they? Henrietta [Gently.] I am sorry, dear, but they do. Mabel But I’m always doing that! Henrietta [After a start of horror.] My poor little sister, tell me about it. Mabel About what? Henrietta About your not being happy. About your longing for another sort of life. Mabel But I don’t. Henrietta Ah, I understand these things, dear. You feel Bob is limiting you to a life in which you do not feel free— Mabel Henrietta! When did I ever say such a thing? Henrietta You said you are not in touch with things intellectual. You showed your feeling that it is Bob’s profession—that Mabel Why—Henrietta! Henrietta Don’t be afraid of me, little sister. There’s nothing can shock me or turn me from you. I am not like that. I wanted you to come for this visit because I had a feeling that you needed more from life than you were getting. No one of these things I have seen would excite my suspicion. It’s the combination. You don’t eat breakfast [Enumerating on her fingers]; you make false moves; you substitute your own name for the name of another whose love is misdirected. You’re nervous; you look queer; in your eyes there’s a frightened look that is most unlike you. And this dream. A hen. Come with me this afternoon to Dr. Russell! Your whole life may be at stake, Mabel. Mabel [Gasping.] Henrietta, I—you—you always were the smartest in the family, and all that, but—this is terrible! I don’t think we ought to think such things. [Brightening.] Why, I’ll tell you why I dreamed I was a hen. It was because last night, telling about that time in Chicago, you said I was as mad as a wet hen. Henrietta [Superior.] Did you dream you were a wet hen? Mabel [Forced to admit it.] No. Henrietta No. You dreamed you were a dry hen. And why, being a hen, were you urged to step? Mabel Maybe it’s because when I am getting on a street car it always irritates me to have them call “Step lively.” Henrietta No, Mabel, that is only a child’s view of it—if you will forgive me. You see merely the elements used in the dream. You do not see into the dream; you do not see its meaning. This dream of the hen— Steve Hen—hen—wet hen—dry hen—mad hen! [Jumps up in a rage.] Let me out of this! Henrietta [Hastily picking up dishes, speaks soothingly.] Just a minute, dear, and we’ll have things so you can work in quiet. Mabel and I are going to sit in my room. [She goes out left, carrying dishes. Steve [Seizing hat and coat from an alcove near the outside door.] I’m going to be psychoanalyzed. I’m going now! I’m going straight to that infallible doctor of hers—that priest of this new religion. If he’s got honesty enough to tell Henrietta there’s nothing the matter with my unconscious mind, perhaps I can be let alone about it, and then I will be all right. [He hurries out. Henrietta [Returning.] Where’s Steve? Gone? [With a hopeless gesture.] You see how impatient he is—how unlike himself! I tell you, Mabel, I’m nearly distracted about Steve. Mabel I think he’s a little distracted, too. Henrietta Well, if he’s gone—you might as well stay here. I have a committee meeting at the book-shop, and will have to leave you to yourself for an hour or two. [As she puts her hat on, taking it from the alcove where Steve found his, her eye, lighting up almost carnivorously, falls on an enormous volume on the floor beside the work table. The book has been half hidden by the wastebasket. She picks it up and carries it around the table toward Mabel.] Here, dear, is one of the simplest statements of psychoanalysis. You just read this and then we can talk more intelligently. [Mabel takes volume and staggers back under its weight to chair rear center, Henrietta goes to outer door, stops and asks abruptly.] How old is Lyman Eggleston? Mabel [Promptly.] He isn’t forty yet. Why, what made you ask that, Henrietta? [As she turns her head to look at Henrietta her hands move toward the upper corners of the book balanced on her knees. Henrietta Oh, nothing. Au revoir. [She goes out. Mabel stares at the ceiling. The book slides to the floor. She starts; looks at the book, then at the broken plate on the table.] The plate! The book! [She lifts her eyes, leans forward elbow on knee, chin on knuckles and plaintively queries] Am I unhappy? (Curtain) Scene II: Two weeks later. The stage is as in Scene I, except that the breakfast table has been removed. During the first few minutes the dusk of a winter afternoon deepens. Out of the darkness spring rows of double street-lights almost meeting in the distance. Henrietta is at the psychoanalytical end of Steve’s work-table, surrounded by open books and periodicals, writing. Steve enters briskly. Steve What are you doing, my dear? Henrietta My paper for the Liberal Club. Steve Your paper on—? Henrietta On a subject which does not have your sympathy. Steve Oh, I’m not sure I’m wholly out of sympathy with psychoanalysis, Henrietta. You worked it so hard. I couldn’t even take a bath without it’s meaning something. Henrietta [Loftily.] I talked it because I knew you needed it. Steve You haven’t said much about it these last two weeks. Uh—your faith in it hasn’t weakened any? Henrietta Weakened? It’s grown stronger with each new thing I’ve come to know. And Mabel. She is with Dr. Russell now. Dr. Russell is wonderful! From what Mabel tells me I believe his analysis is going to prove that I was right. Today I discovered a remarkable confirmation of my theory in the hen-dream. Steve What is your theory? Henrietta Well, you know about Lyman Eggleston. I’ve wondered about him. I’ve never seen him, but I know Steve But what’s the confirmation? Henrietta Today I noticed the first syllable of his name. Steve Ly? Henrietta No—egg. Steve Egg? Henrietta [Patiently.] Mabel dreamed she was a hen. [Steve laughs.] You wouldn’t laugh if you knew how important names are in interpreting dreams. Freud is full of just such cases in which a whole hidden complex is revealed by a single significant syllable—like this egg. Steve Doesn’t the traditional relation of hen and egg suggest rather a maternal feeling? Henrietta There is something maternal in Mabel’s love, of course, but that’s only one element. Steve Well, suppose Mabel hasn’t a suppressed desire to be this gentleman’s mother, but his beloved. What’s to be done about it? What about Bob? Don’t you think it’s going to be a little rough on him? Henrietta That can’t be helped. Bob, like everyone else, must face the facts of life. If Dr. Russell should arrive independently at this same interpretation I shall not hesitate to advise Mabel to leave her present husband. Steve Um—hum! [The lights go up on Fifth Avenue. Steve goes to the window and looks out.] How long is it we’ve lived here, Henrietta? Why, this is the third year, Steve. Steve I—we—one would miss this view if one went away, wouldn’t one? Henrietta How strangely you speak! Oh, Stephen, I wish you’d go to Dr. Russell. Don’t think my fears have abated because I’ve been able to restrain myself. I had to on account of Mabel. But now, dear—won’t you go? Steve I—[He breaks off, turns on the light, then comes Henrietta Stephen, I don’t understand you! You must go to Dr. Russell. Steve I have gone. Henrietta You—what? Steve [Jauntily.] Yes, Henrietta, I’ve been psyched. Henrietta You went to Dr. Russell? Steve The same. Henrietta And what did he say? Steve He said—I—I was a little surprised by what he said, Henrietta. Henrietta [Breathlessly.] Of course—one can so seldom anticipate. But tell me—your dream, Stephen? It means—? Steve It means—I was considerably surprised by what it means. Henrietta Don’t be so exasperating! Steve It means—you really want to know, Henrietta? Henrietta Stephen, you’ll drive me mad! Steve He said—of course he may be wrong in what he said. Henrietta He isn’t wrong. Tell me! Steve He said my dream of the walls receding and leaving me alone in a forest indicates a suppressed desire— Henrietta Yes—yes! Steve To be freed from— Henrietta Yes—freed from—? Steve Marriage. Henrietta [Crumples. Stares.] Marriage! Steve He—he may be mistaken, you know. Henrietta May be mistaken? Steve I—well, of course, I hadn’t taken any stock in it myself. It was only your great confidence— Henrietta Stephen, are you telling me that Dr. Russell—Dr. A. E. Russell—told you this? [Steve nods.] Told you you have a suppressed desire to separate from me? Steve That’s what he said. Henrietta Did he know who you were? Steve Yes. Henrietta That you were married to me? Steve Yes, he knew that. Henrietta And he told you to leave me? Steve It seems he must be wrong, Henrietta. Henrietta [Rising.] And I’ve sent him more patients—! [Catches herself and resumes coldly.] What reason did he give for this analysis? Steve He says the confining walls are a symbol of my feeling about marriage and that their fading away is a wish-fulfillment. Henrietta [Gulping.] Well, is it? Do you want our marriage to end? Steve It was a great surprise to me that I did. You see I hadn’t known what was in my unconscious mind. Henrietta [Flaming.] What did you tell Dr. Russell about me to make him think you weren’t happy? Steve I never told him a thing, Henrietta. He got it all from his confounded clever inferences. I—I tried to refute them, but he said that was only part of my self-protective lying. Henrietta And that’s why you were so—happy—when you came in just now! Steve Why, Henrietta, how can you say such a thing? I was sad. Didn’t I speak sadly of—of the view? Didn’t I ask how long we had been married? Henrietta [Rising.] Stephen Brewster, have you no sense of the seriousness of this? Dr. Russell doesn’t know what our marriage has been. You do. You should have laughed him down! Confined—in life with me? Did you tell him that I believe in freedom? Steve I very emphatically told him that his results were a great surprise to me. Henrietta But you accepted them. Steve Oh, not at all. I merely couldn’t refute his arguments. I’m not a psychologist. I came home to talk it over with you. You being a disciple of psychoanalysis— Henrietta If you are going, I wish you would go tonight! Steve Oh, my dear! I—surely I couldn’t do that! Think of my feelings. And my laundry hasn’t come home. Henrietta I ask you to go tonight. Some women would falter at this, Steve, but I am not such a woman. I leave you free. I do not repudiate psychoanalysis; I say again that it has done great things. It has also made mistakes, of course. But since you accept this analysis—[She sits down and pretends to begin work.] I have to finish this paper. I wish you would leave me. Steve [Scratches his head, goes to the inner door.] I’m sorry, Henrietta, about my unconscious mind. [Alone, Henrietta’s face betrays her outraged state of mind—disconcerted, resentful, trying to pull herself together. She attains an air of bravely bearing an outrageous thing.—The outer door opens and Mabel enters in great excitement. Mabel [Breathless.] Henrietta, I’m so glad you’re here. And alone? [Looks toward the inner door.] Are you alone, Henrietta? Henrietta [With reproving dignity.] Very much so. Mabel [Rushing to her.] Henrietta, he’s found it! Henrietta [Aloof.] Who has found what? Mabel Who has found what? Dr. Russell has found my suppressed desire! Henrietta That is interesting. Mabel He finished with me today—he got hold of my complex—in the most amazing way! But, oh, Henrietta—it is so terrible! Henrietta Do calm yourself, Mabel. Surely there’s no occasion for all this agitation. Mabel But there is! And when you think of the lives that are affected—the readjustments that must be made in order to bring the suppressed hell out of me and save me from the insane asylum—! Henrietta The insane asylum! Mabel You said that’s where these complexes brought people! Henrietta What did the doctor tell you, Mabel? Mabel Oh, I don’t know how I can tell you—it is so awful—so unbelievable. Henrietta I rather have my hand in at hearing the unbelievable. Mabel Henrietta, who would ever have thought it? How can it be true? But the doctor is perfectly certain that I have a suppressed desire for— [Looks at Henrietta, is unable to continue. Henrietta Oh, go on, Mabel. I’m not unprepared for what you have to say. Mabel Not unprepared? You mean you have suspected it? Henrietta From the first. It’s been my theory all along. Mabel But, Henrietta, I didn’t know myself that I had this secret desire for Stephen. Henrietta [Jumps up.] Stephen! Mabel My brother-in-law! My own sister’s husband! Henrietta You have a suppressed desire for Stephen! Mabel Oh, Henrietta, aren’t these unconscious selves terrible? They seem so unlike us! Henrietta What insane thing are you driving at? Mabel [Blubbering.] Henrietta, don’t you use that word to me. I don’t want to go to the insane asylum. Henrietta What did Dr. Russell say? Mabel Well, you see—oh, it’s the strangest thing! But you know the voice in my dream that called “Step, Hen!” Dr. Russell found out today that when I was a little girl I had a story-book in words of one syllable and I read the name Stephen wrong. I used to read it S-t-e-p, step, h-e-n, hen. [Dramatically.] Step Hen is Stephen. [Enter Stephen, his head bent over a time-table.] Stephen is Step Hen! Steve I? Step Hen? Mabel [Triumphantly.] S-t-e-p, step, H-e-n, hen, Stephen! Henrietta [Exploding.] Well, what if Stephen is Step Hen? [Scornfully.] Step Hen! Step Hen! For that ridiculous coincidence— Mabel Coincidence! But it’s childish to look at the mere elements of a dream. You have to look into it—you have to see what it means! Henrietta On account of that trivial, meaningless play on syllables—on that flimsy basis—you are ready—[Wails.] O-h! Steve What on earth’s the matter? What has happened? Suppose I am Step Hen? What about it? What does it mean? Mabel [Crying.] It means—that I—have a suppressed desire for you! Steve For me! The deuce you have! [Feebly.] What—er—makes you think so? Mabel Dr. Russell has worked it out scientifically. Henrietta Yes. Through the amazing discovery that Step Hen equals Stephen! Mabel [Tearfully.] Oh, that isn’t all—that isn’t near all. Henrietta won’t give me a chance to tell it. She’d rather I’d go to the insane asylum than be unconventional. Henrietta We’ll all go there if you can’t control yourself. We are still waiting for some rational report. Mabel [Drying her eyes.] Oh, there’s such a lot about names. [With some pride.] I don’t see how I ever did it. It all works in together. I dreamed I was a hen because that’s the first syllable of Hen-rietta’s name, and when I dreamed I was a hen, I was putting myself in Henrietta’s place. Henrietta With Stephen? Mabel With Stephen. Henrietta [Outraged.] Oh! [Turns in rage upon Stephen, who is fanning himself with the time-table.] What are you doing with that time-table? Steve Why—I thought—you were so keen to have me go tonight—I thought I’d just take a run up to Canada, and join Billy—a little shooting—but— Mabel But there’s more about the names. Henrietta Mabel, have you thought of Bob—dear old Bob—your good, kind husband? Mabel Oh, Henrietta, “my good, kind husband!” Henrietta Think of him, Mabel, out there alone in Chicago, working his head off, fixing people’s teeth—for you! Mabel Yes, but think of the living Libido—in conflict with petrified moral codes! And think of the perfectly wonderful way the names all prove it. Dr. Russell said he’s never seen anything more convincing. Just look at Stephen’s last name—Brewster. I dream I’m a hen, and the name Brewster—you have to say its first letter by itself—and then the hen, that’s me, she says to him: “Stephen, Be Rooster!” [Henrietta and Stephen collapse into the nearest chairs. Mabel I think it’s perfectly wonderful! Why, if it wasn’t for psychoanalysis you’d never find out how wonderful your own mind is! Steve [Begins to chuckle.] Be Rooster! Stephen, Be Rooster! Henrietta You think it’s funny, do you? Steve Well, what’s to be done about it? Does Mabel have to go away with me? Henrietta Do you want Mabel to go away with you? Steve Well, but Mabel herself—her complex—her suppressed desire—! Henrietta [Going to her.] Mabel, are you going to insist on going away with Stephen? Mabel I’d rather go with Stephen than go to the insane asylum! Henrietta For heaven’s sake, Mabel, drop that insane asylum! If you did have a suppressed desire for Stephen hidden away in you—God knows it isn’t hidden now. Dr. Russell has brought it into your consciousness—with a vengeance. That’s all that’s necessary to break up a complex. Psychoanalysis doesn’t say you have to gratify every suppressed desire. Steve [Softly.] Unless it’s for Lyman Eggleston. Henrietta [Turning on him.] Well, if it comes to that, Stephen Brewster, I’d like to know why that interpretation of mine isn’t as good as this one? Step, Hen! Steve But Be Rooster! [He pauses, chuckling to himself.] Mabel What has Lyman Eggleston got to do with it? Steve According to Henrietta, you, the hen, have a suppressed desire for Eggleston, the egg. Mabel Henrietta, I think that’s indecent of you! He is bald as an egg and little and fat—the idea of you thinking such a thing of me! Henrietta Well, Bob isn’t little and bald and fat! Why don’t you stick to your own husband? [To Stephen.] What if Dr. Russell’s interpretation has got mine “beat a mile”? [Resentful look at him.] It would only mean that Mabel doesn’t want Eggleston and does want you. Does that mean she has to have you? Mabel But you said Mabel Snow— Henrietta Mary Snow! You’re not as much like her as you think—substituting your name for hers! The cases are entirely different. Oh, I wouldn’t have believed this of you, Mabel. [Beginning to cry.] I brought [In fumbling her way to her chair she brushes to the floor some sheets from the psychoanalytical table. Steve [With solicitude.] Careful, dear. Your paper on psychoanalysis! [Gathers up sheets and offers them to her. Henrietta I don’t want my paper on psychoanalysis! I’m sick of psychoanalysis! Steve [Eagerly.] Do you mean that, Henrietta? Henrietta Why shouldn’t I mean it? Look at all I’ve done for psychoanalysis—and—[Raising a tear-stained face] what has psychoanalysis done for me? Steve Do you mean, Henrietta, that you’re going to stop talking psychoanalysis? Henrietta Why shouldn’t I stop talking it? Haven’t I seen what it does to people? Mabel has gone crazy about psychoanalysis! [At the word “crazy” with a moan Mabel sinks to chair and buries her face in her hands. Steve [Solemnly.] Do you swear never to wake me up in the night to find out what I’m dreaming? Henrietta Dream what you please—I don’t care what you’re dreaming. Steve Will you clear off my work-table so the Journal of Morbid Psychology doesn’t stare me in the face when I’m trying to plan a house? Henrietta [Pushing a stack of periodicals off the table.] I’ll burn the Journal of Morbid Psychology! Steve My dear Henrietta, if you’re going to separate from psychoanalysis, there’s no reason why I should separate from you. [They embrace ardently. Mabel lifts her head and looks at them woefully. Mabel [Jumping up and going toward them.] But what about me? What am I to do with my suppressed desire? Steve [With one arm still around Henrietta, gives Mabel a brotherly hug.] Mabel, you just keep right on suppressing it! (Curtain) TICKLESS TIME ORIGINAL CAST
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