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“Here A Quack – There A Quack” is very loosely based on Molière’s medical satire “Le Médecin Malgré Lui” – “The Doctor In Spite of Himself”. I have altered the names, updated the action and turned it into a sort of “Carry On Up the Champs-Élysées”…
“Here A Quack – There A Quack!” Or; “The Rudest of Health” An Entertainment in One Act by Alistair Ferguson Characters (In Order of Appearance) Monsieur Pompeux A Wealthy Wine Merchant Mme La Gouvernante His Daughter’s Governess Desiree The Maid Doctor L’Entraille A Charlatan Professore Salasso A Quacksalver Jacques Jambon A Permanently Pickled Ham Mlle Claquer An “Actress” Frasque Jambon’s Wife Mlle Chatouiller Another “Actress” Reveche Pompeux’s Butler Mlle Vierge Pompeux’s Daughter Achille Amant Her Impecunious Lover Fumier The Gardener Menottes A Gendarme Street Musicians Synopsis of Scenes The Action Passes In and Around Paris during “La Belle Époque” Scene 1: Pompeux’s Chateau, Morning Scene 2: The Rue de Postcarde, That Afternoon Scene 3: Pompeux’s Chateau, Later That Same Day Scene 4: The Same, That Evening
HERE A QUACK, THERE A QUACK! In this Scene we meet two of the “Doctors” assigned to cure Vierge… Desiree Doctor L’Entraille and Professore Salasso! They enter. L’Entraille gooses Desiree. She squeals, slaps Salasso and haughtily wiggles off. They advance on Pompeux. L’Entraille is an expansive bore; Salasso has an appalling “Italian” accent, which he keeps slipping in and out of! Pompeux (In awe of them) Doctor L’Entraille! I am truly honoured! And Professore Salasso! Il mio caro medico! Salasso (Aside, to L’Entraille) What’s he on about? L’Entraille (Aside) You’re meant to be an Italian, you French Fancy… Salasso (Aside) Merde… (To Pompeux) Pardon…. (Singing) “Arrividerci Roma!” Via Veneto, Puccini, Verdi! Spaghetti! Pompeux My dear Doctors! You are just in time to settle an argument. Vierge’s Governess, here, laughably suggests that her illness is somehow psychosomatic! Doctors (Caught on the hop) Eh? Gouvernante All in her head. They guffaw. L’Entraille (Expansively) In her head? In her, er, um, bowels, you mean? Salasso Psycho-whatever-you-said? The dashings of the bald! The cocking of the poppies! Do not fiddle with my faddle! It is in her very blood! She must be bled right away! L’Entraille Hocus and, as it were, pocus. Pure, how shall I put it? Ah, yes! Mumbo jumbo! She must be, er, um, purged without delay! Just say the word, Monsieur, and one will... How shall I put it? Ah, yes! Syringe, with enormous affection, her rectum intestinum. Pompeux Bled? Purged? Salasso In my humble opinion, any emetic would scare the sugar out of her blood! L’Entraille And in my humble opinion, leeches are a bleeding waste of time! They are about to come to blows when, suddenly, Salasso has an idea. Salasso However... I am sure some sort of compromise could be reached? Before la vostra figlia becomes pasta… Pasta point of no return! (He laughs. Aside, to L’Entraille) Remember our joint fee, Henri? L’Entraille (Aside) You crafty sod, Claude! (To Pompeux) I, er, um, put it to you, Monsieur, and you can, er, put it where you like, that Ma’mselle Vierge’s malady requires her to be both, er, bled and purged! Pompeux I’d like a second opinion! Salasso Very well! She should be purged and bled! Si! Presto! La figlia Vierge has acute epiglottis of the corpuscles! L’Entraille And your maid has a cute derriere! Both (Sniggering) Medical joke! Salasso She may be at death’s door, Signore... L’Entraille But we shall, er, um, pull her through... Both For an outrageously inflated fee! Salasso All those bleedings and purges may kill her anyway. (Sighs) L’Entraille Even so, er, um, you shall have the, er, how shall I put it? Ah, yes! The, er, satisfaction, that’s it! The satisfaction of, um, knowing she kicked the bucket at the hands of medicine’s, er, finest! Pompeux (Aside) The child is ill, true. Yet, these pair of professional pestilences makes me wonder whether she is better off being poorly! (Imitating them) One’s as, er, um, slow as a, how shall I put it? Ah, yes! That’s it! A funeral. And t’other can’t even speak the Emperor’s French! They advance on him. He backs away, finally collapsing into a chair. L’Entraille Come, Monsieur! One hasn’t all, er, um, day you know. As it were. One has an appointment book simply, er, bursting with bowels. Bowels, I may say, that are some of the highest in the land. Expensive bowels in, er, um, how shall I put it? Ah, yes! That’s it! In desperate need of moving. Salasso And one’s little leeches haven’t had a vein nibble since I don’t know when! Pompeux Haven’t I time to consider...? Both (Outraged) Consider?! L’Entraille (Insulted) You give us no, er, um, alternative but to take our leave! Salasso (Threateningly) I make you an offer you can’t refuse. You pay my fee… Or you shall sleep with the fishes! Pompeux (Intimidated): Fine… L’Entraille I desperately desire my, er, um, how shall I put it? Ah, yes! My dosh. Pompeux Er, um, delighted. L’Entraille Presto, Professore! Leave us vacate this den of, er, um, disbelieving doubters. Salasso Seldom has one encountered such bleeding ignorance! They flounce out.
© Copyright Alistair John Ferguson 2004. No Part of this work to be reproduced without written permission. All Rights Reserved. |