Who Was That Lady?

six great writers roast a grand old chestnut

The snappy exchange of dialog that goes Who was that lady I saw you with last night? -- That was no lady that was my wife is a capsule classic of concise and cutting wit that must have split many a discriminating rib when it was freshly minted. Nobody seems to know when that was, nor does anybody seem to know whose teeming skull spawned the gem, but it's worthy of the finest talents of this or any epoch. Like, for instance ...

William Shakespeare

Horatio

Merolio, hold!

Merolio

Who calls?

Horatio

'Tis I, thy friend Horatio.

Merolio

Horatio! How now, Good cousin. What's the news?

Horatio

Why nay, 'tis I Who should be asking that of thee this day!

Or hast thou so amused thyself last night

With such frivolity that all the news

Is drowned in the cup? Rememb'rest not

Thy walk upon the green?

Merolio

What! Didst thou see Me then?

Horatio

Why marry coz, indeed I did.

Merolio

And thou mad'st not thy presence known?

For shame, Horatio!

Horatio

For shame? It would have been The greater shame so bluntly to intrude Upon thy pleasure.

Merolio

Stay! Thou speakest in Conundrums! What prattle's this?

Horatio

The maid! The maid, good fool, with whom I watch'd

Thee tread the green, oblivious to sight And sound and smell! Did not she pleasure thee?

Merolio

O, fie on pleasure, fie on maid, and fie On thee Horatio! That was no maid Nor dame, nor lady. Neither did she give

Me pleasure. Dear Horatio, I fear

Thou saw'st me with no mistress. O, the shame!

I walked last night with her who bears my name.

(Exeunt)

Paddy Chayevsky

Angie

Hey, Marty.

Marty

Yeah?

Angie

You know when we were in the Loew's Paradise last night?

Marty

Yeah?

Angie

So you know who I saw? I saw Vince.

Marty

So?

Angie

So I saw Vince. I thought you'd like to know, that's all.

Marty

All right. How'd he look?

Angie

He looked OK, I guess. He was with some broad.

Marty

Waddaya mean, "broad."

Angie

Like I said, a broad, a dame, you know.

Marty

Angie, that was no broad, that was Vince's wife. And you don't go around calling a guy's wife a broad.

Angie

Vince is married?

Marty

Yeah.

Angie

No kiddin'. I didn't know that. Since when?

Marty

Since last month.

Angie

No kiddin'. How come he got married?

Marty

Waddaya mean, "How come he got married?"

Angie

Like I said, how come he got married. Last time I saw him he was yellin' he was never gonna get married. So how come he got married?

Marty

He hadda.

Christopher Fry

Matthew

Hey, Thomas! Last night when a cirrus whisk

Brushed the luminous lint from off

The pock-marked moon, I saw you walking

Through the nebulous night with a lady.

Who was she, Thomas?

Thomas

Lady? Dear boy, that was no lady, that was

She who fills my golden days with bronze and

Shattering uxorial ululations; Penelope uncorked,

Creation's original chattermonger. Lady?

Say rather a pimple on posterity's posterior.

Dulcetly, in monosyllables, mirabile dictu,

My wife.

William Saroyan

Sam

Hello!

Ike

(Poking his head from behind the tree branches) Were you calling me?

Sam

I was calling anybody; a general hello to the world. But I guess you'll do. Do you live in that tree?

Ike

Right the first time. My name is Ike Bambolo and I live in a tree. My roof is made of leaves, and my hat is a Boston cream pie. (Indicates pie on head)

Sam

Why Boston cream?

Ike

I've tried 'em all, sonny: apple, chocolate, banana ... but nothing keeps the sun and knowledge out like Boston cream. Who are you?

Sam

My name's Sam. No last name. I live most anywhere. Say, haven't I seen you someplace before?

Ike

Nope. Here. Got a letter for you. (Takes envelope from branches)

Sam

For me? Thanks. It's been years since I've gotten a letter. (Tears it up)

Might be bad news. (A girl runs in. Begins picking up the torn pieces.)

Girl

Save them! Save them! Save the pieces! Why are you wearing a pie on your head?

Sam

Who's she, your wife?

Ike

Wife? God no! My wife's a fat slob who prefers houses to trees. This is the lady I was walking with last night.

Maxim Gorky

Peplov

This cellar stinks, Vassili Vassilievitch.

This cellar stinks and you are a thief.

Vassili

The cellar stinks because it cannot do otherwise, and I am a thief because I cannot do otherwise. We are both products of our environment. Peplov, do you know I can read and write? To read and write and be reduced to thievery. Bah! Have you seen Mikhailka, the shoemaker?

Peplov

Mikhailka drinks. He is now getting drunk.

Vassili

And Natasha? Where is she?

Peplov

Natasha is walking the streets, trying to sell herself between fits of coughing. But who wants a consumptive prostitute?

Vassili

Damnation! It's cold in here.

Peplov

Too cold for Gregor, I'm afraid. He hasn't moved in four hours.

Vassili

Do you think he's dead?

Peplov

We are all dead, Vaska my friend. Sooner or later. If not now, tomorrow. It's the system. Where are you going?

Vassili

There is only one way to go, Peplov: up. We are already at the bottom.

Peplov

Well, give my regards to your lady friend.

Vassili

What lady friend?

Peplov

The one I saw you with last night, in the shadow of the Kremlin wall.

Vassili

Bozhemoi! She was no lady friend. She was a potential victim.

Peplov

Ah! But then again we are all victims. It's the system.

Terence (probably the original)

Publius

O, Pamphile, quae erat femina qua cum heri nocte te vidi?

Pamphilus

Non erat femina ... erat uxor mea!