(855)912-8130 S e p t e m b e r 2 0 1 7 1 1 9 MOODY: Oh dear, now it’s dark, and I should start walking. PATIENCE: Then it can’t get darker. Wait for the moon. MOODY: If the moon ever shows. The sky so heavy tonight. (Patience closes the shutter. He’ll return to his chair.) PATIENCE: Pray, Parson, what was she like? MOODY: Oh, a girl, just a–well, a cousin, ac- tually. As a child, my constant companion. But inevitably, of course, a young lady, and I a young man returned from Harvard after three years away and–I did gaze. Speech- less, degreed in divinity and a stammering, gazing fool. Like your husband, I suppose, though I never was hers. And so– And so the years gather up and here we are. PATIENCE: “Behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.” MOODY: You know Solomon as well as I. PATIENCE: Did you not ask for her hand? Forgive me. MOODY: Oh, I did ask–foolishly. Blurted out–in front of my father. (His eyes close again.) She claimed–also in my father’s presence–that she loved a captain more, as well she should, a capable man. PATIENCE: Then she’s the fool. MOODY: Hardly a fool. Sir William Pepper- ell. He gave her a fine home. She gave him children. I see them about town. They be- long to my father’s parish. PATIENCE: Do you still gaze? MOODY: Hm? Oh, no. No. (beat) Unless I forget myself. He smiles. His eyes remain closed. Patience studies him. PATIENCE: (softly) Parson? Mr. Moody? He’s asleep. She covers him with her blanket, then sits at his feet and leans against his leg. PATIENCE: (whispers) Joseph. n PatienceBoston,MichaelKimball’scolonialcrimedrama,will premiereatThePlayers’RingTheaterinPortsmouth,NH, September15throughOctober1. http://playersring.org