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    Aria da Capo
    Aria da Capo
    Aria da Capo
    Ebook62 pages35 minutes

    Aria da Capo

    By Edna St. Vincent Millay

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJan 1, 2003
    Aria da Capo
    Author

    Edna St. Vincent Millay

    Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in 1892 in Rockland, Maine, the eldest of three daughters, and was encouraged by her mother to develop her talents for music and poetry. Her long poem "Renascence" won critical attention in an anthology contest in 1912 and secured for her a patron who enabled her to go to Vassar College. After graduating in 1917 she lived in Greenwich Village in New York for a few years, acting, writing satirical pieces for journals (usually under a pseudonym), and continuing to work at her poetry. She traveled in Europe throughout 1921-22 as a "foreign correspondent" for Vanity Fair. Her collection A Few Figs from Thistles (1920) gained her a reputation for hedonistic wit and cynicism, but her other collections (including the earlier Renascence and Other Poems [1917]) are without exception more seriously passionate or reflective. In 1923 she married Eugene Boissevain and -- after further travel -- embarked on a series of reading tours which helped to consolidate her nationwide renown. From 1925 onwards she lived at Steepletop, a farmstead in Austerlitz, New York, where her husband protected her from all responsibilities except her creative work. Often involved in feminist or political causes (including the Sacco-Vanzetti case of 1927), she turned to writing anti-fascist propaganda poetry in 1940 and further damaged a reputation already in decline. In her last years of her life she became more withdrawn and isolated, and her health, which had never been robust, became increasingly poor. She died in 1950.

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      Book preview

      Aria da Capo - Edna St. Vincent Millay

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Aria da Capo, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Aria da Capo

      Author: Edna St. Vincent Millay

      Release Date: May 31, 2009 [EBook #5790]

      Last Updated: February 6, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARIA DA CAPO ***

      Produced by David Starner, and David Widger

      ARIA DA CAPO

      A PLAY IN ONE ACT

      Copyright, 1920

      By Edna St. Vincent Millay

      Printed in the U. S. A.

      PERSONS

      Pierrot

      Columbine

      Cothurnus, Masque of Tragedy

      Thyrsis -\

                    Shepherds

      Corydon -/

         [Scene: A stage]

         [The curtain rises on a stage set for a Harlequinade, a merry

         black and white interior. Directly behind the footlights, and

         running parallel with them, is a long table, covered with a gay

         black and white cloth, on which is spread a banquet. At the

         opposite ends of this table, seated on delicate thin-legged

         chairs with high backs, are Pierrot and Columbine, dressed

         according to the tradition, excepting that Pierrot is in lilac,

         and Columbine in pink. They are dining.]

      COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon!

      PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! . . . Is it Tuesday, Columbine?— I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday.

      COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know . . . . Is this my artichoke, Or yours?

      PIERROT: Ah, Columbine,—as if it mattered! Wednesday . . . . Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance?

      COLUMBINE: To-morrow will be—Pierrot, That isn't funny!

      PIERROT: I thought it rather nice. Well, let us drink some wine and lose our heads And love each other.

      COLUMBINE: Pierrot, don't you love Me now?

      PIERROT: La, what a woman!—how should I know? Pour me some wine: I'll tell you presently.

      COLUMBINE: Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much.

      PIERROT: Yes, I dare say I do. . . . Or else too little. It's hard to tell. You see, I am always wanting A little more than what I have,—or else A little less. There's something wrong. My dear, How many fingers have you?

      COLUMBINE: La, indeed, How should I know?—It always takes me one hand To count the other with. It's too confusing. Why?

      PIERROT: Why?—I am a student, Columbine; And search into all matters.

      COLUMBINE: La, indeed?— Count them yourself, then!

      PIERROT: No. Or, rather, nay. 'Tis of no consequence. . . . I am become A painter, suddenly,—and you impress me— Ah, yes!—six orange bull's-eyes, four green pin-wheels, And one magenta jelly-roll,—the title As follows: Woman Taking in Cheese from Fire-Escape.

      COLUMBINE: Well, I like that! So that is all I've meant To you!

      PIERROT: Hush! All at once I am become A pianist. I will

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