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   <title>"Dark Star", short film script, by John Carpenter & Dan O'Bannon</title><bodybgcolor="#ffffff">
                    DARK STAR: A SCIENCE FICTION ADVENTURE                 A Screenplay by John Carpenter and DanO'Bannon     OPEN ON BLACK SILENCE.     The sound of electronic music rises, hollow, metallic.     FADE IN on a long TRACKING SHOT through theuniverse.  As the NARRATOR     speaks we move through galaxies, nebulae, solar systems, moving from     the infinite slowly down to a particular planetarysystem deep within     a maze of suns.                                   NARRATOR                              (over)                    It is the mid 22ndCentury.  Mankind                    has explored the boundaries of his                    own solar system, and now he reaches                    out to the endlessinterstellar                    distances of the universe.  He moves                    away from his own small planetary                    system in huge hyperdrivestarships:                    computer-driven, self-supporting,                    closed-system spacecraft that travel                    at mind-staggeringpost-light                    velocities.  Man has begun to spread                    among the stars.  Enormous ships                    embark with generations ofcolonists                    searching the depths of space for                    new earths, now homes, new                    beginnings.  Far in advance ofthese                    colony ships goes a new pioneer: the                    scouts, the pathfinders, a special                    breed of man who has dedicated


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                                  FRIGHT NIGHT                                   Written by                                   TomHolland                                                                                FINAL DRAFT                                                        Sep 6th,1984                                   1.                         FADE IN:          EXT. FULL MOON - NIGHT (AND CREDITS. ROLL)          Cloudsobscure the starless heavens for a moment, heavy and          ominous in the black firmament. Then suddenly they clear,          exposing a full moon streakedwith red like a killer's          face, a stalking moon staring down at man's evil on the          earth below.          A HOWL breaks the night, a wolf pursuing its preyperhaps,          or perhaps something much, much worse. VOICES break the          perfect stillness.          JONATHAN (V.0.)          What wasthat?          MISS NINA (V.0.)          Just a child of night, Jonathan.          Come, sit here beside me on the          veranda.          JONATHAN(V.0.)          It's chilly out here.          MISS NINA (V.0.)          Oh, no, it isn't. It's beautiful. I          love the night so.          2 EXT. RANCHOCORVALLIS - NIGHT          A middling size town lost somewhere in the Southwest, the          lights of its sixty some thousand residents twinklinglike          so many Christmas lights in the night.          JONATHAN (V.0.)          I've never seen you so beautiful          before, Nina. So pale,so          luminescent, so          He suddenly stops. There is a moment. Then:          MISS NINA (V.0. )          Yes?          JONATHAN


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of BussyD'Ambois, by George ChapmanThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at nocost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith thiseBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'AmboisAuthor: George ChapmanEditor: Frederick S. BoasRelease Date:March 24, 2007 [EBook #20890]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUSSY D'AMBOIS***Produced by Melissa Er-Raqabi, Ted Garvin, Lisa Reigel,Michael Zeug, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Teamat http://www.pgdp.netTranscriber'sNote: Words italicized in the original are surrounded by_underscores_. Words in bold in the original are surrounded by =equalsigns=. Greek words may notdisplay properly--in that case, try theplain text version.BUSSY D'AMBOISANDTHE REVENGE OFBUSSY D'AMBOISBY GEORGE CHAPMANEDITED BYFREDERICK S.BOAS, M.A.PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE INQUEEN'S COLLEGE, BELFASTBOSTON, U.S.A., AND LONDOND. C. HEATH & CO.,PUBLISHERS1905COPYRIGHT, 1905, BYD. C. HEATH & CO.Prefatory NoteIn this volume an attempt is made for the first time to edit _BussyD'Ambois_ and _TheRevenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ in a manner suitable tothe requirements of modern scholarship. Of the relations of this editionto its predecessors some details aregiven in the Notes on the Text ofthe two plays. But in these few prefatory words I should like to callattention to one or two points, and make someacknowledgments.The immediate source of _Bussy D'Ambois_ still remains undiscovered. Butthe episodes in the career of Chapman's hero, vouched forbycontemporaries like BrantÃ´me and Marguerite of Valois, and related insome detail in my _Introduction_, are typical of the material which thedramatist workedupon. And an important clue to the spirit in which hehandled it is the identification, here first made, of part of Bussy'sdying speech with lines put by Seneca intothe mouth of Hercules in hislast agony on Mount Oeta. The exploits of D'Ambois were in Chapman'simaginative vision those of a semi-mythical hero rather than ofaFrenchman whose life overlapped with his own.On the _provenance_ of _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ I have beenfortunately able, with valuable assistancefrom others, to cast much newlight. In an article in _The AthenÃ¦um_, Jan. 10, 1903, I showed that theimmediate source of many of the episodes in the play wasEdwardGrimeston's translation (1607) of Jean de Serres's _Inventaire GÃ©nÃ©ralde l'Histoire de France_. Since that date I owe to Mr. H. Richards,Fellow ofWadham College, Oxford, the important discovery that a numberof speeches in the play are borrowed from the _Discourses_ of Epictetus,from whom Chapmandrew his conception of the character of ClermontD'Ambois. My brother-in-law, Mr. S. G. Owen, Student of Christ Church,has given me valuable help in explainingsome obscure classicalallusions. Dr. J. A. H. Murray, the editor of the _New EnglishDictionary_, has kindly furnished me with the interpretation of adifficultpassage in _Bussy D'Ambois_; and Mr. W. J. Craig, editor ofthe _Arden_ Shakespeare, and Mr. Le Gay Brereton, of the University ofSidney, have been goodenough to proffer helpful suggestions. Finally Iam indebted to Professor George P. Baker, the General Editor of thisSeries, for valuable advice and help on a largenumber of points, whilethe proofs of this volume were passing through the press.                                                           F. S. B.BiographyGeorge Chapman wasprobably born in the year after Elizabeth'saccession. Anthony Wood gives 1557 as the date, but the inscription onhis portrait, prefixed to the edition of _TheWhole Works of Homer_ in1616, points to 1559. He was a native of Hitchin in Hertfordshire, as welearn from an allusion in his poem _EuthymiÃ¦ Raptus_ or _TheTeares ofPeace_, and from W. Browne's reference to him in _Britannia's Pastorals_as "the learned shepheard of faire Hitching Hill." According to Wood "in1574 orthereabouts, he being well grounded in school learning was sentto the University." Wood is uncertain whether he went first to Oxford orto Cambridge, but he issure, though he gives no authority for thestatement, that Chapman spent some time at the former "where he wasobserved to be most excellent in the Latin & Greek tongues, but not inlogic or philosophy, and therefore I presume that that was the reasonwhy he took no degree there."His life for almost a couple ofdecades afterwards is a blank, though ithas been conjectured on evidences drawn from _The Shadow of Night_ and_Alphonsus Emperor of Germany_,respectively, that he served in one ofSir F. Vere's campaigns in the Netherlands, and that he travelled inGermany. _The Shadow of Night_, consisting of two"poeticall hymnes"appeared in 1594, and is his first extant work. It was followed in 1595by _Ovid's Banquet of Sence_, _The Amorous Zodiac_, and otherpoems.These early compositions, while containing fine passages, are obscureand crabbed in style.[v-1] In 1598 appeared Marlowe's fragmentary _HeroandLeander_ with Chapman's continuation. By this year he hadestablished his position as a playwright, for Meres in his _PalladisTamia_ praises him both as a writerof tragedy and of comedy. We knowfrom Henslowe's _Diary_ that his earliest extant comedy _The BlindeBegger of Alexandria_ was produced on February 12,1596, and that forthe next two or three years he was working busily for this enterprisingmanager. _An Humerous dayes Myrth_ (pr. 1599), and _All Fooles_(pr.1605) under the earlier title of _The World Runs on Wheels_,[vi-1] werecomposed during this period.Meanwhile he had begun the work with which his name ismost closelylinked, his translation of Homer. The first instalment, entitled _SeavenBookes of the Iliades of Homere, Prince of Poets_, was published in1598, andwas dedicated to the Earl of Essex. After the Earl's executionChapman found a yet more powerful patron, for, as we learn from theletters printed recently in _TheAthenÃ¦um_ (cf. _Bibliography_, sec.III), he was appointed about 1604 "sewer (i. e. cupbearer) in ordinary,"to Prince Henry, eldest son of James I. The Princeencouraged him toproceed with his translation, and about 1609 appeared the first twelvebooks of the _Iliad_ (including the seven formerly published) with afine"Epistle Dedicatory," to "the high-born Prince of men, Henry." In1611 the version of the _Iliad_ was completed, and that of the _Odyssey_was, at Prince Henry'sdesire, now taken in hand. But the untimely deathof the Prince, on November 6th, 1612, dashed all Chapman's hopes ofreceiving the anticipated reward of hislabours. According to a petitionwhich he addressed to the Privy Council, the Prince had promised him onthe conclusion of his translation Â£300, and "uppon hisdeathbed a goodpension during my life." Not only were both of these withheld, but hewas deprived of his post of "sewer" by Prince Charles. Neverthelesshecompleted the version of the _Odyssey_ in 1614, and in 1616 he publisheda folio volume entitled _The Whole Works of Homer_. The translation, inspite of itsinaccuracies and its "conceits," is, by virtue of itssustained dignity and vigour, one of the noblest monuments ofElizabethan genius.By 1605, if not earlier,Chapman had resumed his work for the stage. Inthat year he wrote conjointly with Marston and Jonson the comedy of_Eastward Hoe_. On account of somepassages reflecting on the Scotch,the authors were imprisoned. The details of the affair are obscure.According to Jonson, in his conversation later withDrummond, Chapmanand Marston were responsible for the obnoxious passages, and hevoluntarily imprisoned himself with them. But in one of therecentlyprinted letters, which apparently refers to this episode, Chapmandeclares that he and Jonson lie under the Kings displeasure for "twoclawses and both ofthem not our owne," i. e., apparently, written byMarston.[vii-1] However this may be, the offenders were soon released,and Chapman continued energetically hisdramatic work. In 1606 appearedtwo of his most elaborate comedies, _The Gentleman Usher_ and _MonsieurD'Olive_, and in the next year was published his firstand mostsuccessful tragedy, _Bussy D'Ambois_. In 1608 were produced twoconnected plays, _The Conspiracie and Tragedie of Charles, Duke ofByron_, dealingwith recent events in France, and based upon materialsin E. Grimeston's translation (1607) of Jean de Serres' History. AgainChapman found himself in troublewith the authorities, for the Frenchambassador, offended by a scene in which Henry IV's Queen was introducedin unseemly fashion, had the performance of theplays stopped for atime. Chapman had to go into hiding to avoid arrest, and when he cameout, he had great difficulty in getting the plays licensed forpublication,even with the omission of the offending episodes. Hisfourth tragedy based on French history, _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_,appeared in 1613. It had beenpreceded by two comedies, _May-Day_(1611), and _The Widdowes' Teares_ (1612). Possibly, as Mr Dobellsuggests (_AthenÃ¦um_, 23 March, 1901), the coarsesatire of the latterplay may have been due to its author's annoyance at the apparent refusalof his suit by a widow to whom some of the recently printed lettersareaddressed. In 1613 he produced his _Maske of the Middle Temple andLyncolns Inne_, which was one of the series performed in honour of themarriage of thePrincess Elizabeth and the Elector Palatine. Anotherhymeneal work, produced on a much less auspicious occasion, was anallegorical poem, _AndromedaLiberata_, celebrating the marriage of theEarl of Somerset with the divorced Lady Essex in December, 1613.The year 1614, when the _Odyssey_ was completed,marks the culminatingpoint of Chapman's literary activity. Henceforward, partly perhaps owingto the disappointment of his hopes through Prince Henry's death,hisproduction was more intermittent. Translations of the _Homeric Hymns_,of the _Georgicks_ of Hesiod, and other classical writings, mainlyoccupy the period till1631. In that year he printed another tragedy,_CÃ¦sar and Pompey_, which, however, as we learn from the dedication, hadbeen written "long since." Theremaining plays with which his name hasbeen connected did not appear during his lifetime. A comedy, _The Ball_,licensed in 1632, but not published till 1639,has the names of Chapmanand Shirley on the title-page, but the latter was certainly its mainauthor. Another play, however, issued in the same year, and ascribedtothe same hands, _The Tragedie of Chabot, Admiral of France_ makes theimpression, from its subject-matter and its style, of being chiefly dueto Chapman. In1654 two tragedies, _Alphonsus Emperour of Germany_ and_The Revenge for Honour_, were separately published under Chapman'sname. Their authorship,however, is doubtful. There is nothing in thestyle or diction of _Alphonsus_ which resembles Chapman's undisputedwork, and it is hard to believe that he had ahand in it. _The Revengefor Honour_ is on an Oriental theme, entirely different from thosehandled by Chapman in his other tragedies, and the versification


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anne Of Avonlea, by Lucy Maud MontgomeryThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: Anne Of AvonleaAuthor: Lucy Maud MontgomeryRelease Date: March 7, 2006 [EBook #47]Language: English*** START OF THISPROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNE OF AVONLEA ***Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David WidgerANNE OF AVONLEAby Lucy Maud MontgomeryTomyformer teacherHATTIE GORDON SMITHin grateful remembrance of hersympathy and encouragement.     Flowers spring to blossom where she walks     Thecareful ways of duty,     Our hard, stiff lines of life with her     Are flowing curves of beauty.     --WHITTIER     I         An Irate Neighbor     II        Selling in Hasteand Repenting at Leisure     III       Mr. Harrison at Home     IV        Different Opinions47     V         A Full-fledged Schoolma'am     VI        All Sorts andConditions of Men . . . and women     VII       The Pointing of Duty     VIII      Marilla Adopts Twins     IX        A Question of Color     X         Davy in Search of aSensation     XI        Facts and Fancies     XII       A Jonah Day     XIII      A Golden Picnic     XIV       A Danger Averted     XV        The Beginning ofVacation     XVI       The Substance of Things Hoped For     XVII      A Chapter of Accidents     XVIII     An Adventure on the Tory Road     XIX       Just a HappyDay     XX        The Way It Often Happens     XXI       Sweet Miss Lavendar     XXII      Odds and Ends     XXIII     Miss Lavendar's Romance     XXIV      A Prophetin His Own Country     XXV       An Avonlea Scandal     XXVI      Around the Bend     XXVII     An Afternoon at the Stone House     XXVIII    The Prince Comes Backto the Enchanted Palace     XXIX      Poetry and Prose     XXX       A Wedding at the Stone HouseIAn Irate NeighborA tall, slim girl, "half-past sixteen," withserious gray eyes and hairwhich her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstonedoorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripeafternoon inAugust, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil.But an August afternoon, with blue hazes scarfing the harvest slopes,little winds whisperingelfishly in the poplars, and a dancing slendorof red poppies outflaming against the dark coppice of young firs in acorner of the cherry orchard, was fitter fordreams than dead languages.The Virgil soon slipped unheeded to the ground, and Anne, her chinpropped on her clasped hands, and her eyes on the splendidmass offluffy clouds that were heaping up just over Mr. J. A. Harrison's houselike a great white mountain, was far away in a delicious world where acertainschoolteacher was doing a wonderful work, shaping the destiniesof future statesmen, and inspiring youthful minds and hearts with highand lofty ambitions.To besure, if you came down to harsh facts . . . which, it must beconfessed, Anne seldom did until she had to . . . it did not seem likelythat there was much promisingmaterial for celebrities in Avonleaschool; but you could never tell what might happen if a teacher usedher influence for good. Anne had certain rose-tinted idealsof what ateacher might accomplish if she only went the right way about it; andshe was in the midst of a delightful scene, forty years hence, with afamouspersonage . . . just exactly what he was to be famous for was leftin convenient haziness, but Anne thought it would be rather nice to havehim a college presidentor a Canadian premier . . . bowing low over herwrinkled hand and assuring her that it was she who had first kindled hisambition, and that all his success in lifewas due to the lessons shehad instilled so long ago in Avonlea school. This pleasant vision wasshattered by a most unpleasant interruption.A demure little Jerseycow came scuttling down the lane and five secondslater Mr. Harrison arrived . . . if "arrived" be not too mild a term todescribe the manner of his irruption into theyard.He bounced over the fence without waiting to open the gate, and angrilyconfronted astonished Anne, who had risen to her feet and stood lookingat him insome bewilderment. Mr. Harrison was their new righthandneighbor and she had never met him before, although she had seen himonce or twice.In early April,before Anne had come home from Queen's, Mr. Robert Bell,whose farm adjoined the Cuthbert place on the west, had sold out andmoved to Charlottetown. Hisfarm had been bought by a certain Mr. J. A.Harrison, whose name, and the fact that he was a New Brunswick man, wereall that was known about him. But beforehe had been a month in Avonleahe had won the reputation of being an odd person . . . "a crank," Mrs.Rachel Lynde said. Mrs. Rachel was an outspoken lady, asthose of youwho may have already made her acquaintance will remember. Mr. Harrisonwas certainly different from other people . . . and that is theessentialcharacteristic of a crank, as everybody knows.In the first place he kept house for himself and had publicly statedthat he wanted no fools of womenaround his diggings. FeminineAvonlea took its revenge by the gruesome tales it related about hishouse-keeping and cooking. He had hired little John Henry CarterofWhite Sands and John Henry started the stories. For one thing, therewas never any stated time for meals in the Harrison establishment. Mr.Harrison "got a bite"when he felt hungry, and if John Henry were aroundat the time, he came in for a share, but if he were not, he had to waituntil Mr. Harrison's next hungry spell.John Henry mournfully averredthat he would have starved to death if it wasn't that he got home onSundays and got a good filling up, and that his mother alwaysgave him abasket of "grub" to take back with him on Monday mornings.As for washing dishes, Mr. Harrison never made any pretence of doing itunless a rainySunday came. Then he went to work and washed them all atonce in the rainwater hogshead, and left them to drain dry.Again, Mr. Harrison was "close." When hewas asked to subscribe to theRev. Mr. Allan's salary he said he'd wait and see how many dollars'worth of good he got out of his preaching first . . . he didn'tbelievein buying a pig in a poke. And when Mrs. Lynde went to ask for acontribution to missions . . . and incidentally to see the inside ofthe house . . . he told herthere were more heathens among the old womangossips in Avonlea than anywhere else he knew of, and he'd cheerfullycontribute to a mission for Christianizingthem if she'd undertake it.Mrs. Rachel got herself away and said it was a mercy poor Mrs. RobertBell was safe in her grave, for it would have broken her heart toseethe state of her house in which she used to take so much pride."Why, she scrubbed the kitchen floor every second day," Mrs. Lynde toldMarilla Cuthbertindignantly, "and if you could see it now! I had tohold up my skirts as I walked across it."Finally, Mr. Harrison kept a parrot called Ginger. Nobody in Avonleahadever kept a parrot before; consequently that proceeding was consideredbarely respectable. And such a parrot! If you took John Henry Carter'sword for it,never was such an unholy bird. It swore terribly. Mrs.Carter would have taken John Henry away at once if she had been sureshe could get another place for him.Besides, Ginger had bitten a pieceright out of the back of John Henry's neck one day when he had stoopeddown too near the cage. Mrs. Carter showed everybodythe mark when theluckless John Henry went home on Sundays.All these things flashed through Anne's mind as Mr. Harrison stood,quite speechless with wrathapparently, before her. In his most amiablemood Mr. Harrison could not have been considered a handsome man; he wasshort and fat and bald; and now, with hisround face purple with rageand his prominent blue eyes almost sticking out of his head, Annethought he was really the ugliest person she had ever seen.All atonce Mr. Harrison found his voice."I'm not going to put up with this," he spluttered, "not a day longer,do you hear, miss. Bless my soul, this is the third time, miss. . .  thethird time! Patience has ceased to be a virtue, miss. I warned your auntthe last time not to let it occur again . . .  and she's let it . . . she'sdone it . . .what does she mean by it, that is what I want to know. Thatis what I'm here about, miss.""Will you explain what the trouble is?" asked Anne, in her mostdignifiedmanner. She had been practicing it considerably of late tohave it in good working order when school began; but it had no apparenteffect on the irate J. A.Harrison."Trouble, is it? Bless my soul, trouble enough, I should think. Thetrouble is, miss, that I found that Jersey cow of your aunt's in my oatsagain, not half anhour ago. The third time, mark you. I found her inlast Tuesday and I found her in yesterday. I came here and told youraunt not to let it occur again. She has let itoccur again. Where's youraunt, miss? I just want to see her for a minute and give her a piece ofmy mind . . . a piece of J. A. Harrison's mind, miss.""If you meanMiss Marilla Cuthbert, she is not my aunt, and she has gonedown to East Grafton to see a distant relative of hers who is very ill,"said Anne, with due increase ofdignity at every word. "I am very sorrythat my cow should have broken into your oats . . .  she is my cow and notMiss Cuthbert's . . . Matthew gave her to methree years ago when she wasa little calf and he bought her from Mr. Bell.""Sorry, miss! Sorry isn't going to help matters any. You'd better go andlook at thehavoc that animal has made in my oats . . . trampled them fromcenter to circumference, miss.""I am very sorry," repeated Anne firmly, "but perhaps if you keptyourfences in better repair Dolly might not have broken in. It is your partof the line fence that separates your oatfield from our pasture and Inoticed the other daythat it was not in very good condition.""My fence is all right," snapped Mr. Harrison, angrier than ever at thiscarrying of the war into the enemy's country. "Thejail fence couldn'tkeep a demon of a cow like that out. And I can tell you, you redheadedsnippet, that if the cow is yours, as you say, you'd be better employedinwatching her out of other people's grain than in sitting roundreading yellow-covered novels," . . . with a scathing glance at theinnocent tan-colored Virgil byAnne's feet.Something at that moment was red besides Anne's hair . . . which hadalways been a tender point with her."I'd rather have red hair than none at all,except a little fringe roundmy ears," she flashed.The shot told, for Mr. Harrison was really very sensitive about his baldhead. His anger choked him up again andhe could only glare speechlesslyat Anne, who recovered her temper and followed up her advantage."I can make allowance for you, Mr. Harrison, because I haveanimagination. I can easily imagine how very trying it must be to find acow in your oats and I shall not cherish any hard feelings against youfor the things you'vesaid. I promise you that Dolly shall never breakinto your oats again. I give you my word of honor on THAT point.""Well, mind you she doesn't," muttered Mr.Harrison in a somewhatsubdued tone; but he stamped off angrily enough and Anne heard himgrowling to himself until he was out of earshot.Grievously disturbedin mind, Anne marched across the yard and shut thenaughty Jersey up in the milking pen."She can't possibly get out of that unless she tears the fence down,"she


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                         NINJAASSASSIN                           Written by              Matthew Sand & J. MichaelStraczynski                                      REVISED 2ndDRAFT   6/4/08                                                        FADE IN:    CLOSE ON a Horimono Tattoo as it is being drawninto    flesh. The ink is needled into the surface of the skin,    raw and bloody, the needled brush tapped with the    precision of ritual.    The tattoo is inthe style of a Kuniyoshi print: Miyamoto    Musashi thrusting his spear into the writhing dragon.    The image has beauty but retains the violence requiredto    saturate flesh with art.    The skin canvas shifts uncomfortably with theneedle-    work.                             HOLLYWOOD              Fuck!   Fucking-shit-fuck-fucking-              fuck!    PULL BACK to revealthat we're in...1   INT. TATTOO PARLOR - NIGHT                                      1    A place of designer furniture, beautiful girlscarrying    towels, tea and cigarettes. Dozens of Yakuza look on as    the process continues, sleeves rolled up or shirts off to    expose the lavish tattoos that covertheir torsos.    HOLLYWOOD, the young Yakuza member, is getting his first    tattoo, a relatively small one on his back.    He grabs a bottle of


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                              "DIE HARD"                                                                                Screenplay                                                                         by                                                            JebStuart                                                                                Revisionsby                                                                                Steven E.DeSouza                                                                                based on thenovel                                                  Nothing LastsForever                                                                             by                                                        Roderick Thorp                WITHREVISION #1  (Blue)    WITH REVISION #5  (Goldenrod)        November 2, 1987            November 5, 1987        WITH REVISION #2  (Pink)    WITH REVISION#6  (Salmon)        November 4, 1987            November 17, 1987        WITH REVISION #3  (Green)   WITH REVISION #7  (Blue)        November 4,1987            November 23, 1987                WITH REVISION #4  (Yellow)  WITH REVISION #8  (Pink)        November 5, 1987            November 30,1987                                                      SECOND REVISED DRAFT                                                      October 2, 1987A Gordon Company/Silver


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck, by BeatrixPotterThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: The Tale of Jemima Puddle-DuckAuthor: Beatrix PotterRelease Date: January 27, 2005  [eBook #14814]Language: EnglishCharacter setencoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK***E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti,Emmy, and the Project GutenbergOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this      filewhich includes the original illustrations.      See 14814-h.htm or 14814-h.zip:      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/8/1/14814/14814-h/14814-h.htm)      or      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/8/1/14814/14814-h.zip)THE TALE OF JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCKbyBEATRIX POTTERAuthor of "The Tale of Peter Rabbit,"&cFrederick Warne & Co., Inc.New York1908[Illustration][Illustration]    A FARMYARD TALE    FOR    RALPH AND BETSY[Illustration]What a funny sight it is to seea brood of ducklings with a hen!--Listen to the story of Jemima Puddle-duck, who was annoyed because thefarmer's wife would not let her hatch her owneggs.[Illustration]Her sister-in-law, Mrs. Rebeccah Puddle-duck, was perfectly willing toleave the hatching to some one else--"I have not the patience to sit onanest for twenty-eight days; and no more have you, Jemima. You would letthem go cold; you know you would!""I wish to hatch my own eggs; I will hatch themall by myself," quackedJemima Puddle-duck.[Illustration]She tried to hide her eggs; but they were always found and carried off.Jemima Puddle-duck becamequite desperate. She determined to make a nestright away from the farm.[Illustration]She set off on a fine spring afternoon along the cart-road that leadsoverthe hill.She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.[Illustration]When she reached the top of the hill, she saw a wood in the distance.She thought that itlooked a safe quiet spot.[Illustration]Jemima Puddle-duck was not much in the habit of flying. She ran downhill afew yards flapping her shawl, and then shejumped off into the air.[Illustration]She flew beautifully when she had got a good start.She skimmed along over the tree-tops until she saw an open place inthemiddle of the wood, where the trees and brushwood had been cleared.[Illustration]Jemima alighted rather heavily, and began to waddle about in search ofaconvenient dry nesting-place. She rather fancied a tree-stump amongst sometall fox-gloves.But--seated upon the stump, she was startled to find an elegantlydressedgentleman reading a newspaper.He had black prick ears and sandy coloured whiskers."Quack?" said Jemima Puddle-duck, with her head and her bonneton oneside--"Quack?"[Illustration]The gentleman raised his eyes above his newspaper and looked curiously atJemima--"Madam, have you lost your way?" saidhe. He had a long bushy tail whichhe was sitting upon, as the stump was somewhat damp.Jemima thought him mighty civil and handsome. She explained thatshe hadnot lost her way, but that she was trying to find a convenient drynesting-place.[Illustration]"Ah! is that so? indeed!" said the gentleman with sandywhiskers, lookingcuriously at Jemima. He folded up the newspaper, and put it in hiscoat-tail pocket.Jemima complained of the superfluous hen."Indeed! howinteresting! I wish I could meet with that fowl. I wouldteach it to mind its own business!"[Illustration]"But as to a nest--there is no difficulty: I have a sackful offeathers inmy wood-shed. No, my dear madam, you will be in nobody's way. You may sitthere as long as you like," said the bushy long-tailed gentleman.He ledthe way to a very retired, dismal-looking house amongst thefox-gloves.It was built of faggots and turf, and there were two broken pails, one ontop of another, byway of a chimney.[Illustration]"This is my summer residence; you would not find my earth--my winterhouse--so convenient," said the hospitablegentleman.There was a tumble-down shed at the back of the house, made of oldsoap-boxes. The gentleman opened the door, and showed Jemimain.[Illustration]The shed was almost quite full of feathers--it was almost suffocating; butit was comfortable and very soft.Jemima Puddle-duck was rathersurprised to find such a vast quantity offeathers. But it was very comfortable; and she made a nest without anytrouble at all.[Illustration]When she came out, thesandy whiskered gentleman was sitting on a logreading the newspaper--at least he had it spread out, but he was lookingover the top of it.He was so polite, thathe seemed almost sorry to let Jemima go home forthe night. He promised to take great care of her nest until she came backagain next day.He said he loved eggsand ducklings; he should be proud to see a finenestful in his wood-shed.[Illustration]Jemima Puddle-duck came every afternoon; she laid nine eggs in thenest.They were greeny white and very large. The foxy gentleman admired themimmensely. He used to turn them over and count them when Jemima wasnotthere.At last Jemima told him that she intended to begin to sit next day--"and Iwill bring a bag of corn with me, so that I need never leave my nest untiltheeggs are hatched. They might catch cold," said the conscientiousJemima.[Illustration]"Madam, I beg you not to trouble yourself with a bag; I will provide oats.Butbefore you commence your tedious sitting, I intend to give you atreat. Let us have a dinner-party all to ourselves!"May I ask you to bring up some herbs from thefarm-garden to make asavoury omelette? Sage and thyme, and mint and two onions, and someparsley. I will provide lard for the stuff--lard for the omelette,"saidthe hospitable gentleman with sandy whiskers.[Illustration]Jemima Puddle-duck was a simpleton: not even the mention of sage andonions made hersuspicious.She went round the farm-garden, nibbling off snippets of all the differentsorts of herbs that are used for stuffing roast duck.[Illustration]And shewaddled into the kitchen, and got two onions out of a basket.The collie-dog Kep met her coming out, "What are you doing with thoseonions? Where do you goevery afternoon by yourself, Jemima Puddle-duck?"Jemima was rather in awe of the collie; she told him the whole story.The collie listened, with his wise head onone side; he grinned when shedescribed the polite gentleman with sandy whiskers.[Illustration]He asked several questions about the wood, and about the exactposition ofthe house and shed.Then he went out, and trotted down the village. He went to look for twofox-hound puppies who were out at walk with thebutcher.[Illustration]Jemima Puddle-duck went up the cart-road for the last time, on a sunnyafternoon. She was rather burdened with bunches of herbs and twoonions ina bag.She flew over the wood, and alighted opposite the house of the bushylong-tailed gentleman.[Illustration]He was sitting on a log; he sniffed the air,and kept glancing uneasilyround the wood. When Jemima alighted he quite jumped."Come into the house as soon as you have looked at your eggs. Give metheherbs for the omelette. Be sharp!"He was rather abrupt. Jemima Puddle-duck had never heard him speak likethat.She felt surprised, anduncomfortable.[Illustration]While she was inside she heard pattering feet round the back of the shed.Some one with a black nose sniffed at the bottom of thedoor, and thenlocked it.Jemima became much alarmed.[Illustration]A moment afterwards there were most awful noises--barking, baying, growlsand howls,squealing and groans.And nothing more was ever seen of that foxy-whiskered gentleman.Presently Kep opened the door of the shed, and let out JemimaPuddle-duck.[Illustration]Unfortunately the puppies rushed in and gobbled up all the eggs before hecould stop them.He had a bite on his ear and both the puppieswere limping.[Illustration]Jemima Puddle-duck was escorted home in tears on account of those eggs.[Illustration]She laid some more in June, and she waspermitted to keep them herself:but only four of them hatched.Jemima Puddle-duck said that it was because of her nerves; but she hadalways been a badsitter.***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK********** This file should be named 14814.txt or 14814.zip*******This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/8/1/14814Updated editions will replace the previousone--the old editionswill be renamed.Creating the works from public domain print editions means that noone owns a United States copyright in these works, sothe Foundation(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States withoutpermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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                         THENEXT THREE DAYS                              Written by                              Paul Haggis                                                     SHOOTINGSCRIPT                                                      August 6, 2009    FADE IN:1   INT. SUV -- DAY                                                 1    Nosound. We are in a speeding SUV. The passenger, LARA,    unsnaps her seat belt and reaches for the door handle. The    driver, JOHN, sees her door open anddives to GRAB her. The    SUV spins, HORNS BLARE, TIRES SCREECH, cars swerve to avoid    collision. We aren't sure what is happening, but weknow    something has gone terribly wrong. Cut to BLACK. Read:                       THE LAST THREE YEARS2   INT. STEAK HOUSE --NIGHT                                       2    Two couples sit at a table, picking at dessert, JOHN and    LARA BRENNAN on one side, MICK and ERIT on the other.JOHN               is attractive in a worn kind of way, but has the eyes of a    kid with a discipline problem. You have to really know him    to understand if he ismocking you or agreeing with you. He    is a master of irony and has a true enjoyment of the absurd.    LARA looks beautiful even in her wrinkled suit. Sheappears    to have had a hard day at the office. She's been drinking    at dinner; it hasn't eased her nerves. John's good-looking    brother, MICK, boasts his bluecollar roots and a gorgeous,              if slightly trashy, girlfriend, ERIT, who isn't ashamed of    her body or sharing her opinions. JOHN and MICK arelaughing.            Lara puts cash on the tray beside Mick's credit card.                                           LARA               You know what? If you were


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Press Cuttings, by George Bernard ShawThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: Press CuttingsAuthor: George Bernard ShawRelease Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5723]Posting Date: May 28, 2009Language: English***START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRESS CUTTINGS ***Produced by Eve SobolPRESS CUTTINGSBernard Shaw1913TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Theedition from which this etext was taken lackscontractions, so it reads dont for don't and Ill for I'll, for example.The play has been reproduced exactly asprinted.The forenoon of the first of April, 1911.General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office, openingletters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fireburning. On hisright, against the opposite wall is a standing desk with an officestool. The door is in the wall behind him, half way between the tableand the desk.The table is not quite in the middle of the room: it isnearer to the hearthrug than to the desk. There is a chair at each endof it for persons having business withthe general. There is a telephoneon the table. Long silence.A VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women!The General starts convulsively; snatches a revolver from adrawer,and listens in an agony of apprehension. Nothing happens. He puts therevolver back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes his work. Heis startledafresh by the entry of an Orderly. This Orderly is anunsoldierly, slovenly, discontented young man.MITCHENER. Oh, it's only you. Well?THE ORDERLY. Anotherone, sir. Shes chained herself.MITCHENER. Chained herself? How? To what? Weve taken away the railingsand everything that a chain can be passed through.THEORDERLY. We forgot the doorscraper, sir. She laid down on the flagsand got the chain through before she started hollerin. Shes lying therenow; and she says thatyouve got the key of the padlock in a letter in abuff envelope, and that you will see her when you open it.MITCHENER. Shes mad. Have the scraper dug up and lether go home with ithanging round her neck.THE ORDERLY. Theres a buff envelope there, sir.MITCHENER. Youre all afraid of these women (picking the letter up).Itdoes seem to have a key in it. (He opens the letter, and takes out a keyand a note.) "Dear Mitch"--Well, I'm dashed!THE ORDERLY. Yes Sir.MITCHENER. Whatdo you mean by Yes Sir?THE ORDERLY. Well, you said you was dashed, Sir; and you did look ifyoull excuse my saying it, Sir--well, you looked it.MITCHENER (whohas been reading the letter, and is too astonished toattend to the Orderlys reply). This is a letter from the Prime Ministerasking me to release the woman with thiskey if she padlocks herself,and to have her shown up and see her at once.THE ORDERLY (tremulously). Dont do it, governor.MITCHENER (angrily). How oftenhave I ordered you not to address me asgovernor. Remember that you are a soldier and not a vulgar civilian.Remember also that when a man enters the army heleaves fear behind him.Heres the key. Unlock her and show her up.THE ORDERLY. Me unlock her! I dursent. Lord knows what she'd do to me.MITCHENER(pepperily, rising). Obey your orders instantly, Sir, and dontpresume to argue. Even if she kills you, it is your duty to die for yourcountry. Right about face. March.(The Orderly goes out, trembling.)THE VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women! Votes for Women! Votes for Women!MITCHENER (mimicking her). Votes for Women!Votes for Women! Votes forWomen! (in his natural voice) Votes for children! Votes for babies!Votes for monkeys! (He posts himself on the hearthrug, and awaitstheenemy.)THE ORDERLY (outside). In you go. (He pushes a panting Suffraget intothe room.) The person sir. (He withdraws.)The Suffraget takes off her tailormade skirt and reveals a pair offashionable trousers.MITCHENER (horrified). Stop, madam. What are you doing? You must notundress in my presence. I protest.Not even your letter from the PrimeMinister--THE SUFFRAGET. My dear Mitchener: I AM the Prime Minister. (He tears offhis hat and cloak; throws them on thedesk; and confronts the General inthe ordinary costume of a Cabinet minister.)MITCHENER. Good heavens! Balsquith!BALSQUITH (throwing himself intoMitchener's chair). Yes: it is indeedBalsquith. It has come to this: that the only way that the PrimeMinister of England can get from Downing Street to the WarOffice isby assuming this disguise; shrieking "VOTES for Women"; and chaininghimself to your doorscraper. They were at the corner in force. Theycheered me.Bellachristina herself was there. She shook my hand and toldme to say I was a vegetarian, as the diet was better in Holloway forvegetarians.MITCHENER. Whydidnt you telephone?BALSQUITH. They tap the telephone. Every switchboard in London is intheir hands or in those of their young men.MITCHENER. Where onEarth did you get that dress?BALSQUITH. I stole it from a little Exhibition got up by my wife inDowning Street.MITCHENER. You dont mean to say its a Frenchdress?BALSQUITH. Great Heavens, no. My wife isnt allowed even to put on hergloves with French chalk. Everything labelled Made in Camberwell. Sheadvised meto come to you. And what I have to say must be said here toyou personally, in the most intimate confidence, with the most urgentpersuasion. Mitchener:Sandstone has resigned.MITCHENER (amazed). Old Red resigned!BALSQUITH. Resigned.MITCHENER. But how? Why? Oh, impossible! the proclamation of martiallawlast Tuesday made Sandstone virtually Dictator in the metropolis, and toresign now is flat desertion.BALSQUITH. Yes, yes, my dear Mitchener; I know all thatas well as youdo: I argued with him until I was black in the face and he so redabout the neck that if I had gone on he would have burst. He is furiousbecause wehave abandoned his plan.MITCHENER. But you accepted it unconditionally.BALSQUITH. Yes, before we knew what it was. It was unworkable, youknow.MITCHENER. I dont know. Why is it unworkable?BALSQUITH. I mean the part about drawing a cordon round Westminster at adistance of two miles; andturning all women out of it.MITCHENER. A masterpiece of strategy. Let me explain. The Suffragets area very small body; but they are numerous enough to betroublesome--evendangerous--when they are all concentrated in one place--say inParliament Square. But by making a two-mile radius and pushing thembeyondit, you scatter their attack over a circular line twelve mileslong. A superb piece of tactics. Just what Wellington would have done.BALSQUITH. But the women wontgo.MITCHENER. Nonsense: they must go.BALSQUITH. They wont.MITCHENER. What does Sandstone say?BALSQUITH. He says: Shoot them down.MITCHENER.Of course.BALSQUITH. Youre not serious?MITCHENER. Im perfectly serious.BALSQUITH. But you cant shoot them down! Women, you know!MITCHENER(straddling confidently). Yes you can. Strange as it may seemto you as a civilian, Balsquith, if you point a rifle at a woman andfire it, she will drop exactly as aman drops.BALSQUITH. But suppose your own daughters--Helen and Georgina.MITCHENER. My daughters would not dream of disobeying the proclamation.(Asan after thought.) At least Helen wouldnt.BALSQUITH. But Georgina?MITCHENER. Georgina would if she knew shed be shot if she didnt. Thatshow the thing wouldwork. Military methods are really the most mercifulin the end. You keep sending these misguided women to Holloway andkilling them slowly and inhumanely byruining their health; and it doesno good: they go on worse than ever. Shoot a few, promptly and humanely;and there will be an end at once of all resistance andof all thesuffering that resistance entails.BALSQUITH. But public opinion would never stand it.MITCHENER (walking about and laying down the law). Theres nosuch thingas public opinion.BALSQUITH. No such thing as public opinion!!MITCHENER. Absolutely no such thing as public opinion. There are certainpersons whoentertain certain opinions. Well, shoot them down. When youhave shot them down, there are no longer any persons entertaining thoseopinions alive:consequently there is no longer any more of the publicopinion you are so much afraid of. Grasp that fact, my dear Balsquith;and you have grasped the secret ofgovernment. Public opinion is mind.Mind is inseparable from matter. Shoot down the matter and you kill themind.BALSQUITH. But hang it all--MITCHENER(intolerantly). No I wont hang it all. It's no use comingto me and talking about public opinion. You have put yourself into thehands of the army; and you arecommitted to military methods. And thebasis of all military methods is that when people wont do what they aretold to do, you shoot them down.BALSQUITH. Oh,yes; it's all jolly fine for you and Old Red. You dontdepend on votes for your places. What do you suppose will happen at thenext election?MITCHENER. Have nonext election. Bring in a Bill at once repealingall the reform Acts and vesting the Government in a properly trainedmagistracy responsible only to a Council of War.It answers perfectly inIndia. If anyone objects, shoot him down.BALSQUITH. But none of the members of my party would be on the Councilof War. Neither shouldI. Do you expect us to vote for making ourselvesnobodies?MITCHENER. You'll have to, sooner or later, or the Socialists will makenobodies of the lot of you bycollaring every penny you possess. Do yousuppose this damned democracy can be allowed to go on now that the mobis beginning to take it seriously and using itspower to lay hands onproperty? Parliament must abolish itself. The Irish parliament voted forits own extinction. The English parliament will do the same if thesamemeans are taken to persuade it.BALSQUITH. That would cost a lot of money.MITCHENER. Not money necessarily. Bribe them with titles.BALSQUITH. Do youthink we dare?MITCHENER (scornfully). Dare! Dare! What is life but daring, man? "Todare, to dare, and again to dare"--WOMAN'S VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes forWomen!Mitchener, revolver in hand, rushes to the door and locks it. Balsquithhides under the table.A shot is heard.BALSQUITH (emerging in the greatest alarm).Good heavens, you haventgiven orders to fire on them have you?MITCHENER. No; but its a sentinel's duty to fire on anyone who persistsin attempting to passwithout giving the word.BALSQUITH (wiping his brow). This military business is really awful.MITCHENER. Be calm, Balsquith. These things must happen; theysavebloodshed in the long run, believe me. Ive seen plenty of it; and Iknow.BALSQUITH. I havent; and I dont know. I wish those guns didnt make sucha devil ofa noise. We must adopt Maxim's Silencer for the army riflesif we are going to shoot women. I really couldnt stand hearing it.Some one outside tries to open thedoor and then knocks.MITCHENER and BALSQUITH. Whats that?MITCHENER. Whos there?THE ORDERLY. It's only me, governor. Its all right.MITCHENER(unlocking the door and admitting the Orderly, who comesbetween them). What was it?THE ORDERLY. Suffraget, Sir.BALSQUITH. Did the sentry shoot her?THEORDERLY. No, Sir: she shot the sentry.BALSQUITH (relieved). Oh: is that all?MITCHENER (most indignantly). All? A civilian shoots down one of HisMajesty's


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erdgeist (Earth-Spirit), by Frank WedekindThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: Erdgeist (Earth-Spirit)       A Tragedy in Four ActsAuthor: Frank WedekindTranslator: Samuel EliotRelease Date: August 13, 2009[EBook #29682]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ERDGEIST (EARTH-SPIRIT) ***Produced by Michael Roe, Alexander Bauerand the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net  [ Transcriber's Note:  Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfullyas  possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation;  changes (corrections of spelling and punctuation) made to the  original text are listed at theend of this text.  Text that was _italic_ in the original is marked with _.  Text that was =spaced= in the original is marked with=.]                           ERDGEIST                             LULU                      BY FRANK WEDEKIND                ERDGEIST (EARTH-SPIRIT)$1.00                PANDORA'S BOX (In Preparation)                           ERDGEIST                        (Earth-Spirit)                    A Tragedy in FourActs                              BY                        FRANK WEDEKIND              Translated by Samuel A. Eliot, Jr.                           NEW YORK                   ALBERT ANDCHARLES BONI                             1914                       Copyright, 1914                              by                   Albert and Charles Boni  "I was created out of rankerstuff  By Nature, and to the earth by Lust am drawn.  Unto the spirit of evil, not of good,  The earth belongs. What deities send to us  From heaven are onlyuniversal goods;  Their light gives gladness, but makes no man rich;  And in their state possession not obtains.  Therefore, the stone of price, all-treasuredgold,  Must from the powers of falsehood be enticed,  The evil race that dwells beneath the day.  Not without sacrifice their favor is gained,  And no man livethwho from serving them  Hath extricated undefiled his soul."CHARACTERS  DR. SCHÃN, newspaper owner and editor.  ALVA, his son, a writer.  DR. GOLL,M.D.  SCHWARZ, an artist.  PRINCE ESCERNY, an African explorer.  ESCHERICH, a reporter.  SCHIGOLCH, a beggar.  RODRIGO, an acrobat.  HUGENBERG, aschoolboy (played by a girl.)  FERDINAND, a coachman.  LULU.  COUNTESS GESCHWITZ.  HENRIETTE, a servant.PROLOGUE(At rise, is seen the entrance to atent, out of which steps ananimal-tamer, with long, black curls, dressed in a white cravat, avermilion dress-coat, white trowsers and white top-boots. He carriesinhis left hand a dog-whip and in his right a loaded revolver, andenters to the sound of cymbals and kettle-drums.)  Walk in! Walk in to the menagery,  Proudgentlemen and ladies lively and merry!  With avid lust or cold disgust, the very  Beast without Soul bound and made secondary  To human genius, to stay andsee!  Walk in, the show'll begin!--As customary,  One child to each two persons comes in free.  Here battle man and brute in narrow cages  Where one in haughtdisdain his long whip lashes  And one, with growls as when the thunder rages,  Against the man's throat murderously dashes,--  Where now the crafty conquers,now the strong,  Now man, now beast, lies cowed the floor along;  The animal rears,--the human on all fours!  One ice-cold look of dominance--  The beastsubmissive bows before that glance,  And the proud heel upon his neck adores.  Bad are the times! Ladies and gentlemen  Who once before my cage in throngingcrescents  Crowded, now honor operas, and then  Ibsen, with their so highly valued presence.  My boarders here are so in want of fodder  That they reciprocallydevour each other.  How well off at the theater is a player,  Sure of the meat upon his ribs, albeit  His frightful hunger may tear him and he it  And colleagues'inner cupboards be quite bare!--  Greatness in art we struggle to inherit,  Although the salary never match the merit.  What see you, whether in light or sombreplays?  =House-animals=, whose morals all must praise,  Who wreak pale spites in vegetarian ways,  And revel in an easy cry or fret,  Just like thoseothers--down in the parquet.  This hero has a head by one dram swirled;  That is in doubt whether his love be right;  A third you hear despairing of theworld,--  Full five acts long you hear him wail his plight,  And no man ends him with a merciful sleight!  But the =real= beast, the =beautiful=, =wild=beast,  Your eyes on =that=, _I_, ladies, only feast!  You see the Tiger, that habitually  Devours whatever falls before his bound;  The Bear, so ravenousoriginally,  Who at a late night-meal sinks dead to ground;  You see the Monkey, little and amusing,  From sheer ennui his petty powers abusing,--  He has sometalent, of all greatness scant,  So, impudently, coquettes with his own want!  Upon my soul, within my tent's a mammal,  See, right behind the curtain, here,--aCamel!  And all my creatures fawn about my feet  When my revolver cracks--                  (He shoots into the audience.)                                     Behold!  Brutestremble all around me. I am cold:  The =man= stays cold,--you, with respect, to greet.  Walk in!--You hardly trust yourselves in here?--  Then very well, judgefor yourselves! Each sphere  Has sent its crawling creatures to your telling:  Chameleons and serpents, crocodiles,  Dragons, and salamanderschasm-dwelling,--  I know, of course, you're full of quiet smiles  And don't believe a syllable I say.--       (He lifts the entrance-flap and calls into the tent.)  Hi,Charlie!--bring our =Serpent= just this way!  (A stage-hand with a big paunch carries out the actress of =Lulu= in  her Pierrot costume, and sets her down beforethe animal-tamer.)  She was created to incite to sin,  To lure, seduce, poison--yea, murder, in  A manner no man knows.--My prettybeast,                      (Tickling Lulu's chin.)  Only be =unaffected=, and not pieced  Out with distorted, artificial folly,  Even if the critics praise thee for 't lesswholly.  Thou hast no right to spoil the shape most fitting,  Most =true=, of =woman=, with meows and spitting!  And mind, all foolery and making faces  The=childish simpleness= of =Vice= disgraces.  Thou shouldst--to-day I speak emphatically--  Speak =naturally= and not unnaturally,  For the first principle inevery art,  Since earliest times, was =True= and =Plain=, not =Smart=!                       (To the public.)  There's nothing special now to see in her,  But wait andwatch what later will occur!  Her strength about the Tiger she coils stricter:  He roars and groans!--Who'll be the final victor?--  Hop, Charlie, march! Carry her toher place,  (The stage-hand carries Lulu in his arms; the animal-tamer                    pats her on the hips.)  Sweet innocence--my dearest treasure-case!      (Thestage-hand carries Lulu back into the tent.)  And now I'll tell the best thing in the day:  My poll between the teeth of a beast of prey!  Walk in! Tho to be sure theshow's not new,  Yet everyone takes pleasure in its view!  Wrench open this wild animal's jaws I dare,  And he to bite dares not! My pate's so =fair=,  So =wild=,so =gaily decked=, it wins respect!  I offer it him with confidence unchecked.  One =joke=, and my two temples crack!--but, lo,  The lightning of my eyes I willforego,  Staking my =life= against a =joke=! and throw  My whip, my weapons, down. I am in my skin!  I yield me to this beast!--His name do ye know?  --Thehonored public! that has just walked in!  (The animal-tamer steps back into the tent, accompanied                by cymbals and kettledrums.)ACT I_A roomy studio.Entrance door at the rear, left. Another door at lowerleft to the bed-room. At centre, a platform for the model, with aSpanish screen behind it and a Smyrna rug infront. Two easels at lowerright. On the upper one is the picture of a young girl's head andshoulders. Against the other leans a reversed canvas. Belowthese,toward centre, an ottoman, with a tiger-skin on it. Two chairs alongthe left wall. In the back-ground, right, a step-ladder.__SchÃ¶n sits on the foot of theottoman, inspecting critically thepicture on the further easel. Schwarz stands behind the ottoman, hispalette and brushes in his hands._SCHÃN. Do you know,I'm getting acquainted with a brand new side of thelady.SCHWARZ. I have never painted anyone whose expression changed socontinuously. I could hardly keep asingle feature the same two daysrunning.SCHÃN. (Pointing to the picture and observing him.) Do you find that init?SCHWARZ. I have done everythingimaginable to call forth some sort ofquiet in her mood by my conversation during the sittings.SCHÃN. Then I understand the difference. (Schwarz dips his brushin theoil and draws it over the features of the face.) Do you think thatmakes it look more like her?SCHWARZ. We can only work with art as scientifically aspossible.SCHÃN. Tell me--SCHWARZ. (Stepping back.) The color had sunk in pretty well, too.SCHÃN. (Looking at him.) Have you ever loved a woman in yourlife?SCHWARZ. (Goes to the easel, puts a color on it, and steps back on theother side.) The dress isn't made to stand out enough yet. We don't seethe living bodyunder it.SCHÃN. I make no doubt that the workmanship is good.SCHWARZ. If you'll step this way....SCHÃN. (Rising.) You must have told her regularghost-stories.SCHWARZ. As far back as you can.SCHÃN. (Stepping back, knocks down the canvas that was leaning againstthe lower easel.) Excuseme--SCHWARZ. (Picking it up.) That's all right.SCHÃN. (Surprised.) What is that?SCHWARZ. Do you know her?SCHÃN. No. (Schwarz sets the picture on theeasel. It is of a ladydressed as Pierrot with a long shepherd's crook in her hand.)SCHWARZ. A costume-picture.SCHÃN. But, really, you've succeeded with=her=.SCHWARZ. You know her?SCHÃN. No. And in that costume--?SCHWARZ. It isn't nearly finished yet. (SchÃ¶n nods.) What would youhave? While she isposing for me I have the pleasure of entertainingher husband.SCHÃN. What?SCHWARZ. We talk about art, of course,--to complete my good fortune!SCHÃN.But how did you make such a charming acquaintance?SCHWARZ. As they're generally made. An ancient, tottering little mandrops in on me here to know if I canpaint his wife. Why, of course,were she as wrinkled as Mother Earth! Next day at ten prompt the doorsfly open, and the fat-belly drives this little beauty in beforehim. Ican feel even now how my knees shook. Then comes a sap-green lackey,stiff as a ramrod, with a package under his arm. Where is thedressing-room?Imagine my plight. I open the door there (pointingleft). Just luck that everything was in order. The sweet thing vanishesinto it, and the old fellow posts himselfoutside as a bastion. Twominutes later out she steps in this Pierrot. (Shaking his head.) Inever saw anything like it. (He goes left and stares in atthebedroom.)SCHÃN. (Who has followed him with his eyes.) And the fat-belly standsguard?SCHWARZ. (Turning round.) The whole body in harmony withthatimpossible costume as if it had come into the world in it! Her way ofburying her elbows in her pockets, of lifting her little feet from therug,--the blood often


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                         TAXI DRIVER                             by                        PaulSchrader                                                PROPERTY OF:                                       �"The whole conviction of my lifenow rests upon the beliefthat loneliness, far from being a rare and curiousphenomenon, is the central and inevitable fact of humanexistence."--ThomasWolfe,"God's Lonely Man"TRAVIS BICKLE, age 26, lean, hard, the consummate loner. Onthe surface he appears good-looking, even handsome; he hasaquiet steady look and a disarming smile which flashes fromnowhere, lighting up his whole face. But behind that smile,around his dark eyes, in his gaunt cheeks,one can see theominous stains caused by a life of private fear, emptinessand loneliness. He seems to have wandered in from a landwhere it is always cold, acountry where the inhabitantsseldom speak. The head moves, the expression changes, butthe eyes remain ever-fixed, unblinking, piercing empty space.Travis isnow drifting in and out of the New York City nightlife, a dark shadow among darker shadows.  Not noticed, noreason to be noticed, Travis is one with hissurroundings.He wears rider jeans, cowboy boots, a plaid western shirtand a worn beige Army jacket with a patch reading, "KingKong Company


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      ALLSCRIPTS

Man on the Moon      Manon the Moon (1999)      by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski.FADE IN:INT. VOID - DAYStanding in a nonexistent set is ANDY KAUFMAN,looking a bitnervous.  Wide-eyed, tentative, he stares at us with aneedy, unsettling cuteness.  His hair is slicked-down, andhe wears the "FRIENDLY WORLD"costume from the Andy Kaufmanspecial.Finally, Andy speaks -- in a peculiar FOREIGN ACCENT. ANDY (AS FOREIGN MAN) Hallo.  I am Andy.  Welcoomto my movie. (beat; he gets upset) I hoped the story of my life would be nice...but it turned out terrible!  It is all LIES!  Tings are mixed up... real people I knewplay different people.  WHAT A MESS! So I broke into Universal and cut out the junk.  Now it's much shorter.  In fact, this is the end of the movie.  So tanks forcomink! Bye-bye!Andy puts a needle on a phonograph, and swelling CLOSINGCREDITS MUSIC starts to play.  FINAL CREDITS roll.Andy stands frozen, awkwardlylooking at the audience.Every time the music ends he picks up the needle andrestarts the music.  He does that as many times as thecredits require.Finally,CREDITS END.  And then--a sly smile.  He leans in.DROPS HIS ACCENT and WHISPERS. ANDY (AS REGULAR VOICE) Okay!  Just my friends are left.  Iwanted to get rid of those other people... they would have laughed in the wrong places. (beat) I was only kidding about the movie... it's actually PRETTY GOOD! Itshows everything... from me as a little boy until my death -- (his eyes pop; he covers his mouth) Oops!!  I wasn't supposed to talk about that!  Oh.  Eh, uh, webetter just begin.  It starts back in Great Neck, Long Island...Andy turns to a primitive 16mm PROJECTOR and turns it on.WHIR!  He smiles at the flickering


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The Internet Movie Script Database(IMSDb)

      <ahref="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database">
The web's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
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Alphabetical
        #         A        <ahref="/alphabetical/B">B        C        D        <ahref="/alphabetical/E">E        F        G        <ahref="/alphabetical/H">H
         I        J        <ahref="/alphabetical/K">K        L        M        <ahref="/alphabetical/N">N        O        P        <ahref="/alphabetical/Q">Q
         R        S        <ahref="/alphabetical/T">T        U        V        <ahref="/alphabetical/W">W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 Action Adventure <ahref="/genre/Animation">Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy <ahref="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir
 Horror Musical <ahref="/genre/Mystery">Mystery
 Romance Sci-Fi <ahref="/genre/Short">Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

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TV Transcripts
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 Seinfeld
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 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
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International
 <ahref="/language/French">French scripts

<tdclass=heading>Movie Software

Rip from DVD
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Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: TheForce Awakens10/10
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Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

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      ALLSCRIPTS

BLACK SCREENSUPER:New Line Cinema PresentsSUPER: A Wingnut Films ProductionBLACK CONTINUES... ELVISH SINGING....A WOMAN'S VOICE ISwhispering, tinged withSADNESS and REGRET:                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)              (Elvish: subtitled)          "I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen,          han mathonne chae...a han noston ned          wilith."              (English:)          The world is changed: I feel it in the          water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it          in theair...Much that once was is lost,          for none now live who remember it.SUPER: THE LORD OF THE RINGSEXT. PROLOGUE -- DAYIMAGE:FLICKERING FIRELIGHT. The NOLDORIN FORGE in EREGION.MOLTEN GOLD POURS from the lip of an IRON LADLE.                    GALADRIEL(V.O.)          It began with the forging of the Great          Rings.IMAGE: THREE RINGS, each set with a single GEM, are receivedby the HIGHELVES-GALADRIEL, GIL-GALAD and CIRDAN.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          Three were given to the Elves,immortal,          wisest...fairest of all beings.IMAGE: SEVEN RINGS held aloft in triumph by the DWARF LORDS.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.)(CONT'D)          Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners          and craftsmen of the mountain halls.IMAGE: NINE RINGS clutched tightly by the KINGS OFMEN...asif holding-close a precious secret.                    GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)          And Nine...nine rings were gifted to the          race of Men