Drawn Up From Deep Places

Yes. Well, then . . .

(A beat)

. . . tell me.

TABLEAU ELEVEN: RIVER-SIDE

BRING UP the NOISE OF THE RIVER. HOLD a moment.

FADE DOWN the RIVER. FADE UP the BACKGROUND NOISE OF LONDON—muffled hooves, wheels on cobblestones, newsboys crying the latest headlines. Slowly, these become audible, though overlapping:

FIRST NEWSBOY

In the earliest hours of the morning, while all Whitechapel lay asleep . . .

SECOND NEWSBOY

. . . he drank the cup of his strange obsession to the dregs, perpetrating . . .

THIRD NEWSBOY

. . . most horrid and abominable slaughter, perhaps brought on by . . .

FIRST NEWSBOY

. . . a softening of the brain due to rampant venereal infection.

SECOND NEWSBOY

(Quieter, a commentary)

Sin is a contagion upon us. Inhuman minds breed inhuman

deeds, as the Good Book holds.

THIRD NEWSBOY

(Almost sad)

Surely, these are Judgment times.

CHILDREN’S VOICES slide in OVERTOP the shouts, a ragged choir singing a sniggering tune—

CHILDREN

Jack the Ripper’s dead!

And lying in his bed!

He cut his throat with shaving soap!

Jack the Ripper’s dead!

This doggerel dissolves into cruel laughter, trailing quickly away. At the same time, we BRING UP JACK’S BOOTS coming down a deserted street.

JACK

(Shivering)