MADAME BUTTERFLY
The play takes place in Japan in Madame Butterfly's little house at the foot of Higashi Hill, facing the harbor. Everything in the room is Japanese save the American locks and bolts on the doors and windows and an American flag fastened to a tobacco jar. Cherry blossoms are abloom outside, and inside. A sword rack, a shrine on which lie a sword and a pair of men's slippers, a chest of drawers on top of which is a tray containing two red poppies, rouge, powder and hair ornaments, a stand for the tobacco jar and tea, are the only pieces of furniture in the room. As the curtain rises, Madame Butterfly is spraying the growing flowers with a small watering pot. She snips off two little bunches, lays them on a plate of rice which she sets reverently on the shrine, then kneels, putting her hands on the floor, her forehead on them.
Madame Butterfly. Oh, Shaka! Hail! Hail! Also perceive! Look down! I have brought a sacrifice of flowers and new rice. Also, I am quite clean. I am shivering with cleanness. Therefore grant that Lef-ten-ant B. F. Pik-ker-ton may come back soon.
(She rises, clasps her hands, comes down to a floor cushion, and sits, fanning herself.)
Suzuki. (Entering with a low bow.) Madame Butterfly's wish?
Madame Butterfly. Suzuki, inform me, if it please you, how much more nearer beggary we are today than yesterday?
Suzuki. Aye. (She takes some coins from a small box in her sleeve, and lays them in three piles on her palm, touching them as she speaks.) Rin, yen, sen. . . .
Madame Butterfly. (Reprovingly.) Suzuki, how many time I tellin' you—no one shall speak anythin' but those Unite' State' languages in these Lef-ten-ant Pik-ker-ton's house? (She pronounces his name with much difficulty.) Once more—an' I put you outside shoji! . . . That's one thin' aeverbody got recomlec' account it's 'Merican house—his wife, his maid.
Suzuki. (Mouthing to herself, making no sound, counting on her fingers.) Two dollar.
(She drops the money into the box, giving it to Madame Butterfly.)
Madame Butterfly. O, how we waste my husban's be-autif ul moaneys! Tha's shame! Mos' gone.
Suzuki. This moaney hav' kep' us two year . . . Wha's happen to us now, if he don' come back?
Madame Butterfly. (Scoffing, putting the money in her sleeve.) O, if he don' come back! . . . Course he come back! He's gone so long accoun' he's got business in those his large country. If he's not come back to his house, why he sign Japanese lease for nine hundred and ninety nine year for me to live? Why he put 'Merican lock to bolt it door, to shut it window? Answer me those question.
Suzuki. (Doubtfully.) I dunno.
Madame Butterfly. Of course you dunno! You don' know whichaever. Wael I goin' tell you: to keep out those which are out, and in, those which are in. Tha's me.
(She rises, goes to the window and looks out.)
Suzuki. But he don't writin' no ledder.
Madame Butterfly. 'Merican men don' naever write ledder—no time.
Suzuki. (Cynically.) Aye ... I don' naever know 'Merica navy man with Japanese wive come back.
Madame Butterfly. (Impassively, her eyes narrowing.) Speak concerning marriage once more, you die! (She fans herself. Suzuki salaams and backs quickly towards the door. Madame Butterfly claps her hands and Suzuki pauses.) Don' come back! Lef-ten-ant B. F. Pik-ker-ton don' come back! Ha! Me! I know w'en he comes back—he told me. Wen he goin' 'way, he say in tha's doors: "Madame Butterfly, I have had ver' nice times with my Japanese
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