(3 men)
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
by Charles Dickens

Narr:  There once lived, in a sequestered part of the county of Devonshire, a mother, and 
a daughter and a son.  Who, recently bereaved were forced to journey up to London.  And 
to throw themselves upon the mercy of their only living relative, Ralph Nickleby.  Ralph 
took Young Nicholas and found him a position in a school in Yorkshire run by Mr. 
Wackford Squeers, and arriving at the school, he met with the poor drudge Smike.
Nich:  Hallo.  Please, don't be frightened.  Are you cold? (Smike shakes his head) You're 
shivering.
Smike: Oh, dear.  Oh, dear, oh, dear.  My heart.  Will break.  It will.  It will.  I know it 
will.
Nich:  Shh.  Shh.
Smike: Remember Dorker, do you?
Nich:  Dorker?
Smike: I was with him at the end, he asked for me.  Who will I ask for?  Who?
Nich:  Who will you ask for when?
Smike: No One.  No Hope.  Hope Less.
Nich:  There's always hope.
Smike: Is there?  O-U-T-C-A-S-T.  A noun.  Substantive.  Person cast out or rejected.  
Abject.  And forsaken.  Homeless.  Me.
Narr:  As the days wore on, Nicholas and Smike became friends. 
Smike: Can't do it.  With the book.  Can't do it, with the book, at all.
Nich:  Oh, please.  Don't try.  Don't  For God's sake.  I cannot bear it.  They are more hard 
on you, I know.  But, please...
Smike: Except for you, I die.
Nich:  No, no.  You'll be better off, I tell you, when I'm gone.
Smike: You gone?
Nich:  Shh.  Yes.
Smike: You going?
Nich:  I was speaking to my thoughts.
Smike: Tell me.  Will you?  Will you go?
Nich:  I shall be driven to it.  yes.  To go away.
Smike: Please tell me.  Is away as bad as here?
Nich:  Oh, no.  Oh, no, there's nothing --
Smike: Can I meet you there?  Away?
Nich:  Well, yes... you can, of course...
Smike: Can meet you there?  Away?  And I would find you in away?
Nich:  You would.  And, it you did, I'd try to help you.
Smike: To go.  Go anywhere.  Go everywhere.  The world's end.  To the churchyard 
grave.  I can.  You'll let me.  Come away with you.  You are my home.
Narr:  It was a cold, foggy morning in early Spring, and a few meager shadows flitted to 
and fro in the misty streets.  At intervals were heard the tread of slipshod feet, and the 
chilly cry of the sweep as he crept shivering to his early toil; the sluggish darkness 
thickened as the day came on,          and those who had the courage to rise and peep at the 
gloomy street from their curtained windows, crept back to bed again, and coiled 
themselves up to sleep.
Nich:  Now, listen to me, Smike.  We're bound for Portsmouth,  because it's a seaport 
town, and I am thinking we might board some ship.  I'm young and active, so are you.  
Smike.  Do you have a good memory?
Smike: I don't know.  I had once, I think.  But now all gone.
Nich:  Why do you think you had one once?
Smike: Because I could remember, when I was a child.
Nich:  Do you remember, when you went to Yorkshire?  What the day was like.  The 
weather, hot or cold?
Smike: Wet.  Very wet.  And afterwards.  When it was raining.  I could see myself.  The 
day I came.
Nich:  Did you come there alone?
Smike: No.  No.  A man - a dark and withered man, they used to say.  And I think I 
remember, too.  Remember - being frightened of  him.  Glad he went away.  But 
frightened at the place he           left me, too.
Nich:  Do you remember anything or anyone or anywhere, before that house in 
Yorkshire?  Think, Smike, think.
Smike: A room.  I slept once in a room a large and lonesome room, beneath the attic, 
there was a hook in the ceiling above me.  I was frightened of it, covered up my head.  
Used to dream.         Dream terribly about the room.  And people in it.  Things, that 
changed.  But that room - never changes.  Till now, I have not known two days together, 
when I haven't been afraid. 
Narr:  At Portsmouth, Nicholas and Smike joined the theatrical troupe of Vincent 
Crummles and family.  The time spent in this company was the happiest they had known.  
Eventually,         however, the two wanderers were re-united with Nicholas' mother and 
sister.  And Smike grew daily weaker.  There is a dread disease which so prepares its 
victim, as it were for death; in which the struggle between soul and body is so gradual, 
quiet and solemn, that day by day, and grain by           grain, the mortal part wastes and 
withers, and the spirit part grows light and sanguine with its lightening load; a disease 
which medicine never cured, wealth warded off, or poverty could boast exemption from - 
which sometimes moves in giant's strides, and sometimes at a tardy, sluggish pace, but 
slow or quick is ever sure and certain.  Nicholas resolved to take Smike to the country for 
some healthy country air.  Dividing the distance into two days' journey, Nicholas and 
Smike found themselves in the village where Nicholas had grown up. 
Nich:  Look, there's our garden, Smike.  That's where we used to play, and run, and hide.
Smike: You used to hide?
Nich:  Yes, Smike, you know, the game.
Smike: Is it the same.  As when.  Is it the same.
Nich:  Things look a little different, Smike.  The tree looks smaller.  A the garden has 
become a little overgrown.  But still - it is the same.
Narr:  And in a fortnight, Smike became too ill to move about.  And he would lie upon an 
old couch, near the open doors that led into a little orchard.  And Nicholas would sit with 
him and         talk for hours and hours together.  Till the sun went down, and Smike 
would fall asleep.
Smike: Who calls?  So calls so loud?  Who calls so loud?
Nich:  Come hither, man.  I see that thou art poor.  Hold, there is forty ducats.  Let me 
have -
Smike: Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law Is - is-
Nich:  Oh, Smike.
Smike: Is death to any he that utters them. (Prompting) Art thou so bare?
Nich:  Art thou so bare and full or wretchedness, and fears to die?  Famine is in thy 
cheeks, need and oppression starveth in thy eyes.  Contempt and -
Smike: No.  No, I don't fear to die.  My will consents.  You know I think, that if I could 
rise up again, completely well, I wouldn't want to, now.  For nothing - can be ill if she be 
well.
Nich:  Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.  Her body sleeps in Capel's monument.  
But her immortal part with angels lives.
Smike: Is it.  E'en so?  I see a garden.  Trees and happy children's faces.  And her body 
sleeps.  Light on the faces.  Living with the angles.  Dreamt my lady came and found me 
dead.  Such happy dreams.  I'm going home.  Who calls.  Who calls so loud?
Nich:  He said - I think you know.  And then he said he was in Eden.