ACT I

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      The drawing-room at Longbourn. At the back, wide glass doors open upon a terrace which overlooks an English landscape. It is winter, and coals are burning in the fireplace. On each side of the glass doors are rounded recesses with windows. On one side of the room a door opens into the library. On the other side is a door to the hall—the chief entrance of the house. The room is handsomely furnished in eighteenth century style. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are discovered sitting on either side of the table. Mrs. Bennet is knitting—Mr. Bennet reading.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [After a slight pause and laying down her knitting.]

      My dear Mr. Bennet, did not you hear me? Did you know that Netherfield Park is let at last?

      Mr. Bennet.

      [Continues reading and does not answer.]

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [Impatiently.] Do not you want to know who has taken it?

      Mr. Bennet.

      [Ceases reading and looks up at her with an amused smile.] You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [With animation.] Why, my dear, you must know Lady Lucas says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the North of England. His name is Bingley, and he is single, my dear. Think of that, Mr. Bennet! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand pounds a year. What a fine thing for our girls!

      Mr. Bennet.

      How so? How can it affect them?

      Mrs. Bennet.

      My dear Mr. Bennet, how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.

      Mr. Bennet.

      Is that his design in settling here?

      Mrs. Bennet.

      Design!—Nonsense! How can you talk so? But it is very likely that he will fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as you can. Consider your daughters, Mr. Bennet! Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them! Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go merely on that account. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not.

      Mr. Bennet.

      [Who has risen during this last speech and now stands with his back to the fire, facing Mrs. Bennet.] You are overscrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you, and I will send a few lines to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls—though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [Sharply.] I desire you will do no such thing! Lizzy is not a bit better than the others. She is not half as handsome as Jane, nor as good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference.

      Mr. Bennet.

      Not unless she deserves it, my dear. But in this particular instance my poor little Lizzy is the only one who is unprovided for. Lydia and the others belong in the schoolroom, and you tell me that Mr. Collins has already spoken for Jane.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      Oh, that odious Mr. Collins! I wish he had never come here. I wish I might never hear his name again!

      Mr. Bennet.

      Mr. Collins odious! You surprise me! I thought that he had won your full approval.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [Fretfully.] Oh, well, since he had to be your cousin, and since you will not do anything about the entail, I suppose it will be a mercy if he does marry Jane. [Half crying.] But I do think, Mr. Bennet, it is the hardest thing in the world that we have no son of our own, so that your property has to be entailed away from your own wife and children, so if you should die, we may all be turned out of the house whenever this Mr. Collins pleases. [In bewailing tone.] He certainly does seem to have all the luck in the world. Here he has just got this good living from that grand Lady Catherine de Bourg.

      Mr. Bennet.

      But, my dear, that will soon be your luck, as well. You forget that your daughter is to profit by it.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      Well, perhaps. I don't know about that, but, [With renewed excitement.] I do know that it is too monstrous that after you are gone I shall be forced to make way for this man and live to see him master in this house!

      Mr. Bennet.

      My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [This is not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet; and therefore, instead of making answer, she goes on as before.] If it was not for the entail I should not mind it.

      Mr. Bennet.

      What should not you mind?

      Mrs. Bennet.

      I should not mind anything at all.

      Mr. Bennet.

      Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such insensibility. But it certainly is a most iniquitous affair, and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. However, you know he is doing his best to mend matters. He has not only handsomely apologised for his fault, but he has now assured us of his readiness to make every possible amends by marrying one of the girls. Surely, my dear, you must acknowledge that this plan is excessively generous on his part.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [Dolefully.] Well, I suppose it might be worse.

      Mr. Bennet.

      [Cheerfully.] Decidedly worse. With Jane so well settled, and a single man like Mr. Bingley in prospect, I think you should be quite cheerful.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      [Excited once more.] Mr. Bingley! We shall never know Mr. Bingley. Oh, Mr. Bennet, you take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.

      Mr. Bennet.

      You mistake, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.

      Mrs. Bennet.

      Ah! You do not know what I suffer.

      Lydia.

      [Bursting into the room, followed by Jane.] Oh, that horrid practice! [Looking back at Jane.] Jane does so keep me at it. [Throwing herself into a chair.] La, I'm tired to death.

      Jane.

      [Who sees that her mother is half crying, goes and stands behind her chair, puts her hand affectionately on her shoulder, and bends over her.] Does your head ache, mamma?

      Mrs. Bennet.

      Of course my head aches. Your father is so teasing. I cannot persuade him to call on Mr. Bingley at Netherfield,