Madame Butterfly: A Tragedy of Japan
David Belasco
1900
Madame Butterfly [Impassively, her eyes narrowing]:
Speak concerning marriage once more, you die! [She fans herself. Suzuki salaams and backs quickly toward 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. W’en he goin’ ’way, he say in tha’s doors: “Madame Butterfly, I have had ver’ nice times with my Japanese sweets heart, so now I goin’ back to my own country and here’s moaney—an’ don’ worry ’bout me—I come back w’en ‘Robins nes’ again!’” Ha-ha! Tha’s w’en he come back—w’en robins nes’ again.
[She sways her head triumphantly from side to side, fanning herself.]
Suzuki [Not impressed]:
Yaes, I didn’t like ways he said it—like those . . .
[She imitates a flippant gesture of farewell.]
Madame Butterfly [Laughing]:
Aha, that’s ’Merican way sayin’ good-bye to girl. Yaes, he come back w’en robins nes’ again. Shu’h! Shu’h! [She claps her hands with delight. Suzuki, with a look of unbelief, starts to go.] Sa-ey! Why no “shu’h” on you face for? Such a fools! [Looking towards the window.] O look! Suzuki—a robins. The firs’ these Spring! Go, see if he’s stay for nes’.
Suzuki [Looking]:
It is a robins, O Cho-Cho-San!
Madame Butterfly [Running to the window]:
O! O!
But he’s fly away.
O! How they are slow this year! Sa-ey, see if you don’ fin’ one tha’s more in-dus-trial an’ domestics.
Suzuki [Looking out]:
There are none yet.
But soon they nes’ now. Suzuki, w’en we see that ship comin’ in—sa-ey—then we goin’ put flowers aevery where, an’ if it’s night, we goin’ hang up mos’ one thousan’ lanterns—eh-ha?
No got moaney for thousan’.
Wael, twenty, mebby; an’ sa-ey, w’en we see him comin’ quick up path—[imitates] so—so—so—[lifts her kimono and strides in a masculine fashion] to look for liddle wive—me—me jus’ goin’ hide behind shoji [making two holes with her wet finger in the low paper shoji and peeking through] an’ watch an’ make believe me gone ’way; leave liddle note—sayin’: “Goon-bye, sayonara, Butterfly.” . . . Now he come in. . . . [Hides.] Ah! An’ then he get angery! An’ he say all kinds of ’Merican languages—debbils—hells! But before he get too angery, me run out an’ flew aroun’ his neck! [She illustrates with Suzuki, who is carried away and embraces her with fervor.] Sa-ey! You no flew roun’ his neck—jus’ me. [They laugh in each other’s arms.] Then he’ll sit down an’ sing tha’s liddle ’Merican song—O, how he’ll laugh. . . . [She sings as though not understanding a word of it.]
[Laughs.] Then I’ll dance like w’en I was Geisha girl. [ . . . ]
Won’t you let me do something for the child? Where is he? [Madame Butterfly gestures toward the next room, Kate, seeing the child.] Ah! The dear little thing! May I—
No! Can look . . . no can touch . . .
Let us think first of the child. For his own good . . . let me take him home to my country. . . . I will do all I would do for my own.
Madame Butterfly [Showing no emotion]:
He not know then—me—his mother?
It’s hard, very hard, I know; but would it not be better?
Madame Butterfly [Taking the money box from her sleeve, and giving the coins to Kate]:
Tha’s his . . . two dollar. All tha’s lef’ of his moaneys. . . . I shall need no more. . . . [She hands Kate the envelope which Sharpless has just given.] I lig if you also say I sawry—no—no—no—glad—glad! I wish him that same happiness lig he wish for me . . . an’ tell him . . . I shall be happy . . . mebby. Thang him . . . Mister B. F. Pik-ker-ton for also that kindness he have been unto me . . . an’ permit me to thang you, augustness, for that same. . . . You—you mos’ bes’ lucky girl in these whole worl’. . . . Goon-night—
[She stands stolidly with her eyes closed.]
Kate [Wiping her eyes.]:
But the child?
Come back fifteen minute. . . . [With closed eyes, she bows politely.] Sayonara. [Kate reluctantly goes.] God he’p me, but no sun kin shine. [Suzuki, who has listened, sinks at Madame Butterfly’s feet.] Don’ cry, Suzuki, liddle maiden . . . accoun’ I dizappoint, a liddle disappoint’—don’ cry. . . . [Running her hand over Suzuki’s head—as she kneels.] Tha’s short while ago you as’ me res’—sleep. . . . [Wearily.] Well—go way an’ I will res’ now. . . . I wish res’—sleep . . . long sleep . . . an’ when you see me again, I pray you look whether I be not beautiful again . . . as a bride.
Suzuki [Understandingly, sobbing]:
No—no—no.
So that I suffer no more—goon bye, liddle maiden. [Suzuki does not go. Madame Butterfly claps her hands, and sobbing, Suzuki leaves the room. Madame Butterfly bolts the shoji and the door, lights fresh incense before the shrine, takes down her father’s sword and reads the inscription]: “To die with honor . . . when one can no longer live with honor.” . . .
[She draws her finger across the blade, to test the sharpness of the sword, then picks up the hand glass, puts on more rouge, rearranges the poppies in her hair, bows to the shrine, and is about to press the blade of the sword against her neck, when the door is opened and the child is pushed into the room by Suzuki, who keeps out of sight. Madame Butterfly drops the sword and takes the baby in her arms. A knocking is heard but she pays no heed. She sets the child on a mat, puts the American flag in its hand, and, picking up the sword, goes behind the screen that the child may not see what she is about to do. A short pause—the sword is heard to drop. Madame Butterfly reappears, her face deathly—a scarf about her neck to conceal the wound. Suzuki opens the door, sees the face of her mistress—backs out of the room in horror. Madame Butterfly drops to her knees as she reaches the child, and clasps it to her. A hand is thrust through the shoji and the bolt is drawn.]
[Kate enters quickly, urging the reluctant Pinkerton to follow her.]
Lieutenant Pinkerton [Discerning what she has done.]
Oh! Cho-Cho-San!
[He draws her to him with the baby pressed to her heart. She waves the child’s hand which holds the flag—saying faintly]:
Too bad those robins didn’ nes’ again. [She dies.]
Credits
David Belasco, Madame Butterfly: A Tragedy of Japan (1900). Republished in Six Plays, by David Belasco (Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1929), pp. 14–16, 31–32.
Published in: The Posen Library of Jewish Culture and Civilization, vol. 7.
