Digital History at Ursinus

Constancy by Neith Boyce

Dublin Core


Constancy by Neith Boyce


Art, Modernism, and Bohemia


Boyce’s Constancy Stages the Inconstancy of Male Ideology and Action in Greenwich Village

Neith Boyce’s Constancy depicts Mabel Dodge’s relationship with John Reed in order to glorify Dodge’s radical assertions of autonomy while also displaying the double standard for women participating in the marriage “experiments” going on in The Village. Boyce’s depiction of Dodge conveys Dodge’s radical understanding of inequality and her struggle to try continue to assert autonomy. Hustak describes Mabel’s radical marriage exploration, writing, “Mabel and Sanger [Margret Sanger] joined in Greenwich Village Marriage Experiments with free love as a challenge to traditional marriage as the patriarchal possession of the wife” (180). Dodge’s character, Moira, is presented as heroic in her assertions of autonomy. In the face of the juvenile pleas of her former lover, Moira is depicted as calm and mature. Boyce depicts Dodge as valiant likely because Boyce also desires to have autonomy and equality within her marriage, but is ultimately more controlled by her husband, Hutch Hapgood. Boyce does not have the same financial independence as Dodge does, and despite Dodge’s autonomy being radical and important, her ability to assert control in a relationship is somewhat tied to her finances. Boyce is not as lucky and does not have the ability to be financially independent. Despite ideology, not all women had the means to be as in control as Dodge did.

The names Boyce gives to the characters make a statement about gender dynamics in the Village. Moira means “fate” and Rex is clearly Latin for “king”. Boyce is drawing attention to the patriarchy while also poking fun at fragile masculinity with Rex. Dodge’s character, Moira, takes charge of “Rex” who is supposed to be king. Clare Eby writes that Rex is depicted as “self-pitying” despite the fact that it was “he who left her for another woman” (168). Name symbolism illuminates how Dodge existed as a walking attack to patriarchal standards. Though Boyce cannot engage in this autonomy in her own life, her presentation of Dodge’s mannerisms conveys that Dodge’s autonomy served as an ideal for other radical women. Every action Moira takes with Rex is a further display of her control over him. When Rex visits, Moira instructs him, “Come ‘round, the door is open,” which illustrates how Moira makes Rex come to her (Boyce). Though Dodge did have a period of infatuation with Reed, the play illustrates how Dodge eventually was able to distance herself from Reed and require he reach out to her (Rudnick 2147). Moira is also depicted controlling the cigarettes in the scene. Cigarettes are a symbol for masculinity, and Moira uses them to assert even more dominance over Rex as she offers them to him. Moira’s masculine display of power echoes Dodge’s own tendency to dress less feminine and take on an more masculine appearance through her short hair and square-cut dresses. Dodge does this as part of her need to constantly assert the validly of her presence among her male counterparts.

Boyce further conveys Dodge’s strength and control in ending her romantic relations with Reed through Moira removing the ladder from her home. Moira says, “Rex, you didn’t expect to come by the ladder, did you?” which illustrates how Rex desires to continue to return to Moira despite being unfaithful (Boyce). Moira’s action of removing the ladder conveys her rejection of the double standard which Rex establishes. The women of the village frequently struggle with wanting an open relationship but not being able to participate one in the same way the men in these relationships could. Moira’s assertion displays Dodge’s own radical rejection of continued male dominance in experiments of “New Marriage”. Dodge’s rejection is revolutionary because she supports open marriages as the ideal for social reform, while also displaying an understanding of how male dominance prevents women from participating in them equally.
Constancy highlights the ways in which women in the Village faced a double standard in terms of artistic liberation and control within a relationship because of the domineering voice of men. Boyce highlights the autonomy of Dodge as a tool to display the injustice of gender dynamics. Rex has the audacity to come to Moira’s house and essentially claim that she never loved him and demand that she accept his romantic advances again. Rex’s actions mirror that of both Reed and Hapgood as they continuously participate in affairs while still desiring to return home to their steady partners or wives. Rex laments to Moira, “I have forgotten nothing. It is you who have forgotten. It is you who have been unfaithful. I come back to you and you treat me like a stranger,” which conveys how Rex seeks to control Moira even though he admits to a lack of fidelity (Boyce). Rudnick comments on the play, writing,
“He [Rex] assumes, as Reed always assumed about Mabel, that Moira was a 'constant' in his life. Her role was to fight for his love as a tigress would. Moira wisely understands that the love he wants from her is 'a disease, a madness,' which drove her to give up 'all her interests' in order to devote herself to keeping his love. Their definitions of love and constancy are, finally, as incompatible as the 'sex antagonism' of the real life men and women they represent. Rex’s idea of fidelity is that he 'would always come back'” (2160).
The two characters' different definitions of fidelity highlight the issues women of the Village faced when trying to carve out an equal role in a romantic relationship. Moira also attests to the importance of Dodge’s assertions of autonomy and her understanding of the unequal treatment she received because of her sex.

Boyce’s heroic depiction of Moira glorifies the autonomy of Mabel Dodge but does not completely address the source of her autonomy. Dodge is able to have more control over a relationship because of her own economic independence. Even in Constancy, the stage is set at Moira’s home. In early 20th Century America, it was rare for a woman to own a home; this is the sort of luxury only someone like Dodge would have. Because she owns the home, Moira has control over the space, and through the space she executes her displays of control, like removal of the ladder and making Rex come to her. These actions would not be possible for someone like Boyce who did not have the resources to procure her own space. Eby accounts how Gilman wrote that the root of women’s problem lay in women’s “economic co-dependence” (39). This struggle of the women of the Village is displayed here in Boyce’s take on Dodge’s relations.

Eby goes explore how Charlotte Perkins Gilman identified one of the key aspects of humanity to be an individual’s work. Gilman writes that “marriage defines work as male” and thus strips women of identity (Eby 40). Gilman’s concept is interesting because both Dodge and Boyce strove to be defined by their work rather than by men. Boyce develops the idea of the “New Woman” as someone “wedded to her work instead of her man” (Eby 135). Dodge is able to regain control of her life through her own work after a tense relationship with Reed in Florence. Rudnick writes how Dodge “understood that the kind of power which counted most among her radical male admirers was that which could be felt and measured through art, language, and political action” (1946). Despite her dedication to her work, Boyce’s economic conditions ultimately do not provide her the opportunity to negotiate the terms of her relationship with Hapgood in the same way Dodge did with Reed. In this way, Constancy serves as a testament to the autonomy that Boyce desired and could not access because of economic and social constraint Dodge was able to bend.

Analyzing Boyce’s depiction of Dodge illuminates how radical Dodge was in her comprehension of the unattainable nature of a truly equal loving relationship between a man and a woman in the society she functioned in. Constancy also outlines the gender politics that both Dodge and Boyce struggled with. Dodge’s character, Moira, highlights the difference that economic advantage made for a women when negotiating their role within a relationship with a man.

Eby, Clare Virginia. Until Choice Do Us Part: Marriage Reform in the Progressive
Era. Chicago: University of Chicago, 2014. Print.

Hustak, Carla Christina. "Inventing the female self in Greenwich Village,
1900–1930: Mabel Dodge's encounter with science and spirituality."
Critical Psychology 6.2 (2013): 173-92. Print.

Rudnick, Lois. Mabel Dodge Luhan: New Woman, New Worlds (Kindle Locations 1946-2165). University of New Mexico Press. Kindle Edition.


Neith Boyce


Neith Boyce


Providencetown Players




Mabel Dodge


Providencetown Playhouse


Written Text





Text Item Type Metadata



MOIRA: Originally played by Neith Boyce.
REX: Originally played by Mary Heaton Vorse's husband, journalist and labor activist, Joe O'Brien, who would succumb to stomach cancer in October of 1915.

A room, luxurious and gay, in delicate, bright colors. Long arched windows at the back open on a balcony flooded with moonlight, overlooking the sea. In the center of the room a long sofa piled with bright cushions.

Moira, sitting at a desk under a shaded lamp, writing busily. She is dressed in a robe of brocade with straight lines, brilliant in color.

A whistle sounds under the balcony. She looks up, glances at a tiny clock on the desk, which delicately chimes twelve, smiles and finishes her phrase. A second whistle, prolonged. She rises and goes out on the balcony, leans over the rail.

REX (Off): Moira.

MOIRA: Rex. There you are. Come ‘round, the door is open.

REX: The door. The door. Oh, very well . . .

(Moira comes back into room, laughing softly. She glances into mirror, touching the circlet around her temples, takes cigarette, lights it, stands leaning against end of couch, looking at Rex. . .

Enter Rex in cape and soft hat which he drops on floor as Moira lazily takes two steps to meet him, with both hands held out.)

MOIRA: Well. Well. Here you are.

REX (Quickly): Yes. I’ve come back.

MOIRA (Lazily): You have come back. How well you’re looking.

REX: I’m not well. I’m confoundedly ill. I’m a wreck.

MOIRA: Oh, no. Come here, let me look at you. (Draws him nearer lamp) Well, you’re a little thinner, but it’s becoming. And you do look tired. But then you’ve had a long journey. Come, sit down and make yourself comfortable. (She drops onto couch. and draws him down.)

REX: Comfortable.

MOIRA: Yes; why not there? (Tosses cushion behind his head.) Will you have something to eat? A drink?

REX (Darkly): No, Moira.

MOIRA: Have a cigarette. I think I’ve some of your kind left. Look over there.

REX: Oh, never mind. (He is gazing intently at her; mutters) I don’t care what kind.

MOIRA: You don’t care. And I’ve kept them all this time. Well then, have one of mine. (She leans to take one from desk, offers it to him, he lights it absently, looking at her steadily as though perplexed.)

REX: Thanks. Moira, I must say you look well.

MOIRA: Yes, I am — very well.

REX: And — happy?

MOIRA: Oh, very busy, and—yes, pretty happy, I should say.

REX (Gloomily): I’m very glad. (She smokes luxuriously, looking at him. He smokes nervously, looking at her.)

MOIRA: And now tell me all about yourself, my dear. It seems ages since you went away and yet it’s only four months... but such a lot of things have happened.

REX: Yes. A lot indeed. (Abruptly) I wrote you.

MOIRA: Oh yes, but letters ... There’s a lot one doesn’t say in letters.

REX: Yes, there is. (Gets up, strides to railing, hurls cigarette out, comes back and stands back of couch.) Moira, the last thing on earth I expected was that you should receive me like this.

MOIRA: But why, Rex. How did you expect me to receive you? With a dagger in one hand and a bottle of poison in the other?

REX: Well, I don’t know. But (bitterly) I didn’t expect this.

MOIRA: But what is this?

REX: You know well enough. You treat me as though I were an ordinary acquaintance, just dropped in for a chat.

MOIRA: Oh, no, no. A dear friend, Rex. . . . Always dear to me. (She leans over languidly, drops cigarette in tray, takes gray knitting from desk and knits.)

REX: Friend. (Walks away to window) When we parted four months ago we weren’t friends. We were lovers.

MOIRA (Sweetly): Yes, but you know a lot of things have happened since then. (She knits with attention.)

REX: Well . . . (Stops for a moment then turns toward her with indignation) Well, even if things have happened. I don’t see how you can have changed so completely.

MOIRA (Counting stitches): One, two, three . . . Well, my dear Rex, you’ve changed a good deal yourself.

REX (Vehemently coming back.): I have not changed.

MOIRA (Dropping her knitting and looking around at him.): Well . . . Really.

REX (Hotly): Of course I know what you mean. Perhaps it’s natural enough for you to think so.

MOIRA (Coolly): Yes, I should think it was.

REX: And yet I did think you were intelligent enough to understand. But even if I had changed as completely as you thought, I still don’t understand why — why you are like this.

MOIRA: This again. (Puts up hand to him) My dear Rex, I’m awfully glad to see you again. Do come, sit down and let us talk about everything.

REX (Dolefully): Glad to see me. (He sits at end of sofa) I didn’t think you’d let me in the door.

MOIRA: You didn’t? (Springs up suddenly, drops knitting.) Rex, you didn’t expect to come by the ladder, did you?

REX: Well, no —

MOIRA: I believe you did. This romantic hour, your boat, your whistle — just the same — I know you looked for the ladder.

REX: No, no, I didn’t. I tell you I didn’t think you’d see me at all. But what have you done with it, Moira?

MOIRA: The ladder? (Walks across to table, opens drawer, drags out rope ladder, comes back to couch.) Here it is.

REX: So—you’ve kept it.

MOIRA: Yes — as a remembrance.

REX: Only that?

MOIRA: Absolutely. If you like I’ll give it to you now.

REX: To me.

MOIRA: Yes. You might find use for it some time.

REX: Moira.

MOIRA (Laughing): Well, you know, my dear Rex, you are incurably romantic—and then, you’re still young. As for me, my days of romance are over.

REX (Leaning towards her, violently): I don’t believe it. I believe you love some one else. I’ve believed it ever since your telegram to me. Otherwise you couldn’t have behaved so — so —

MOIRA: So well?

REX: If you call it that.

MOIRA: I do, of course. I think I behaved admirably. But you’re wrong about the reason. I don’t love anyone else and I don’t intend to. I’ve done with all that.

REX (Softened, taking her hand.): No, Moira.

MOIRA: Yes, indeed. (Sits up, drawing her hand away, more coolly.) As to my telegram, what else could I do? You had fallen in love with Ellen. You telegraphed me, “Let us part friends”—

REX: But, Moira —

MOIRA (Quickly): Then came your letter telling me that you and Ellen loved one another; that this was the real love at last, that you felt you never had loved me —

REX: Yes, but Moira —

MOIRA: You reminded me how unhappy you and I had been together—how we had quarreled — how we had hurt one another —

REX: Yes, yes, I know, but listen —

MOIRA: And then you begged me to forgive you for leaving me — so — I did forgive you. What else could I do if I couldn’t hold on to you when you loved and wanted to marry another woman.

REX: Moira, if you won’t listen to a word from me, how can I explain to you?

MOIRA: Why, Rex, I’ll listen to you all night if you like... but I don’t see that you have anything to explain.

REX: Well, I have, though. You’ve got an entirely wrong idea of this business...

MOIRA: I don’t see that. Your letters were quite explicit. You were tired of me —

REX: I was not.

MOIRA: You fell in love with another woman, younger, more beautiful —

REX: Moira —

MOIRA: That’s all natural enough. I know what men are. They‘re restless, changeable. You wanted to marry this one — just as —

REX: I didn’t want to marry her.

MOIRA: You didn’t? You wrote me —

REX: Well, perhaps I did, or thought I did, just then... But really it was she that wanted to marry me.

MOIRA: Oh, Rex, you wrote me —

REX: Oh, I admit I was in love with her. Yes, I was, for a while and I was willing to do anything she wanted, then.

MOIRA: Well, then.

REX: But, Moira, what I can’t understand is your giving me up like that — like a shot, without a struggle.

MOIRA: But, my dear Rex, what else —

REX: When I think what you were last year. What scenes you made if I even looked at another woman. How you threatened to kill yourself when I had just a casual adventure.

MOIRA: Yes — that’s true — I did.

REX: Well, what can I think now except that you have absolutely ceased to love me.

MOIRA: But, my dear Rex, did you want me to go on loving you when you had left me for another woman?

REX: I never left you.


REX (Hastily): But, anyhow, it isn’t a question of what I wanted. It’s a question of fact. You stopped loving me. The real truth is you never never loved me.

MOIRA: Oh, yes, I did, Rex.

REX: No, else you couldn’t have stopped. It’s true; it’s true. “Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove.”

MOIRA: Oh, my dear Rex, you are really wonderful. How about you? You stopped loving me.

REX: I never stopped loving you.

MOIRA: Oh, heavens. You wrote me that you never had loved me.

REX: Never mind what I wrote. I was in a very excited frame of mind—and wrote a lot of things I didn’t mean. And you must remember Ellen was there at my elbow, and of course her point of view influenced me a lot.

MOIRA (Coldly): Naturally. And what was her point of view?

REX: Why that we were fatally in love; had fallen in love at first sight and that we were to marry and settle down together.

MOIRA: Well, that certainly seemed to be your point of view.

REX: I tell you, Ellen was right there, influencing me... And there’s no doubt I was in love with her at the time. She’s lovely, you know. I was mad about her.

MOIRA: Why do you say was — was — was? You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?

REX: No, Moira, I don’t believe I am. Of course I have a feeling about her — she is beautiful — But even if I were in love with her, Moira, this about marrying —

MOIRA: Well, what about it?

REX (Springing up and pacing the floor): Moira, I don’t want to marry. As to settling down, I simply can’t.

MOIRA: But you promised her, didn’t you?

REX: I did. And of course if she insists, I suppose I’ll have to keep my promise. That is, I’ll marry her, but I won’t settle down. That I cannot do. Why, Moira, listen — (Throws himself in corner of couch, leans forward.) What do you think she expects? She expects me to live with her in a little suburban house, and come back every night to dinner, and have a yard with vegetables, and a sleeping porch facing the east. Oh, Moira. (Buries his face in his hands.)

MOIRA: Well, my dear Rex, if you love her —

REX (Savagely): I couldn’t love anyone like that.

MOIRA: Well, how do you love her, then?

REX (Moodily): Why-I loved her as a beautiful, poetical creature, a bit of plastic loveliness—Moira, you ought to see her; she is lovely - er - she was unhappy, too. She needed to be made love to. I made love to her; I loved her in a way, but, oh, Moira, not as I loved you.

MOIRA: What? My dear boy...

REX (Surprised): Surely you know Moira that I have loved you ever since we met; that I never ceased loving you; that I could never love anyone else as I love you.

MOIRA: But, my dear Rex, you wrote me.

REX: Oh, I wrote you, I wrote you. . . . I’ve already explained to you that I wasn’t in a state of mind to know what I meant then. You remember, too, that you and I parted with a quarrel.

MOIRA: What of it? You wrote me right after that quarrel that you adored me more than ever . . .

REX: Well, so I did... But don’t you see, the fact that we had quarreled so terribly, just at parting — well, it made me feel desperate. And so —

MOIRA (Ironically): And so — you fell in love with Ellen.

REX: Well, yes, that’s only natural, just at first. But now, you see, I’ve had time to think it over and I know — why, what did you think I meant when I wrote you that I was coming back?

MOIRA: Meant? Meant? Why I supposed you meant you were coming to pay me a friendly visit and make sure of my forgiveness.

REX: Forgiveness, yes, but real forgiveness, Moira.

MOIRA: Yes, yes, I do really forgive you. I don’t bear you any malice at all.

REX: Then you do really love me, Moira, after all.

MOIRA: I’m very fond of you, my dear, and always shall be.

REX: No, no, that isn’t what I mean and you know it. I love you just as I always did, only more, I think. I’ve come back to you, Moira.

MOIRA: But — my dear Rex — Ellen.

REX: I’ve written Ellen that I can’t honestly promise to do what she wants... I’ve told her that I will marry her if she still wants me to, but that I can’t settle dow... That I must have my freedom — and that probably she wouldn’t be happy with me. I have been as honest with her as I could be — Just as I was always honest with you.

MOIRA (Smiling pensively): Yes, you always told me that, too.

REX: You see, I haven’t deceived either of you. I may have deceived myself at times — when I thought I didn’t love you, for instance. But I know now that I do and always shall. And so, Moira, do you forgive me?

MOIRA: I’ve told you so.

REX: And love me?

MOIRA: In a way, yes — I always shall.

REX: No, not in a way. As you did before, Moira. Surely you haven’t altogether stopped loving me.

MOIRA: No, not as I did before. That was a disease, a madness. I was mad with jealousy of you... I was miserable. I tried to keep you faithful to me — and I couldn’t. I don’t want to go back to that.

REX: You don’t want to go back?

MOIRA: No. To have you leave me again in a few months — or weeks — for another woman? No.

REX: Moira, I was always faithful to you, really. I always shall be. I should always come back.

MOIRA: That is your idea of fidelity. You would always come back.

REX: Yes, always. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stay away for long. I couldn’t forget you.

MOIRA: You forgot me easily.

REX: I never forgot you. Didn’t I write you nearly every day? You were always on my mind. I saw you suffering, wounded, desperate, perhaps even doing what you threatened once — you know —

MOIRA: Kill myself?

REX: I thought everything. I was in despair about you. Even your letters, so calm and generous, didn’t reassure me. I knew your pride.

MOIRA: So you thought I was wearing a mask of cheerfulness and resignation.

REX: Yes, and I thought it noble of you.

MOIRA: And at the same time you thought I must be in love with some one else. You said so.

REX: Well, I didn’t know what to think. That’s the truth.

MOIRA: The one thing you couldn’t believe was that I had ceased to feel about you as a lover.

REX: Yes, that was it; I admit it.

MOIRA: And yet you’ll admit, too, that it was the right and reasonable thing to do.

REX: Oh, right and reasonable.

MOIRA: If I had behaved like a jealous fury, showered reproaches on you, threatened you, pursued you, tried to get you away from Ellen, that from your point of view would have been the natural thing for me to do.

REX: Yes, if you loved me.

MOIRA: Well, Rex, I don’t think so. I knew that you would leave me some day. You’re young, and as you say yourself, you must have your freedom. So when it came I took the blow, for it was a blow. I adjusted myself to the change.

REX: Very easily.

MOIRA: Well, it is done, now.

REX: And you don’t want to undo it? You don’t want me back?

MOIRA: As a friend, yes; always. Love passes. Friendship endures.

REX: Love never ends—real love. But you know nothing about it. You never loved me.

MOIRA: I did, Rex. I lived only for you for a year and I wasn’t happy. Don’t you remember how I absorbed myself in you, gave up all my other interests, gave up my friends, could see nothing and nobody but you; was careless and indifferent to everyone but you? And I wasn’t happy.

REX: That is exactly it. Did I want you to give up your interests and your friends? Did I want you to see nothing and nobody but me? Didn’t I want you to be free of me and let me be free of you — sometimes.

MOIRA: In love one cannot be free. I was constant to you every moment, while I loved you.

REX: While you loved me. That’s not my idea of constancy.

MOIRA: No, your idea of constancy is to love a hundred other women and at intervals to come back—to me.

REX: Moira, you drove it too hard. You tied yourself and me down hand and foot. And now you say it is ended for you. Now because I’ve been what you call unfaithful you throw me off. And that is your idea of constancy.

MOIRA: I can’t endure love without fidelity. It tortures me. I don’t want to be the head of a harem. Yes, it is ended.

REX (Goes to balcony, stands looking out.): Look. How many times have I come to you; come up over this balcony? And you were happy then. You didn’t want to push me away then.

MOIRA: It was a fever. What is real is what I feel for you now; a warm affection, a—

REX: I don’t want that. I want you back as you were before.

MOIRA: You want to make me miserable again. No, Rex.

REX: (Kneels on couch, leans toward her and takes her in his arms. She does not resist.) I can’t believe you mean it. Kiss me. (She kisses him. He draws back suddenly and lets her go.) You do mean it. You don’t care any more. (He drops down on couch. She leans over and caresses his hair.)

MOIRA: Now, Rex, you are just a boy, crying for the moon. As long as you haven’t got it you are dying for it. When you get it you go on to something else. I understand you very well and I think you are the most charming and amusing person I know, and I shall always be really fonder of you than of anyone else.

REX: (Jumping to his feet.) The moon. You are the moon, I suppose, and you are certainly as inconstant. How can you change like this? I come back to you loving you as I always did, the same as ever, and I find you completely changed; your love for me gone as thought it had never been. And you tell me it is no new love that has driven it out. I could understand that, but this... It is true, as Weiniger said, women have no soul, no memory. They are incapable of fidelity.

MOIRA: Fidelity.

REX: Yes, fidelity. Haven’t I been essentially faithful to you. I may have fancies for other women but haven’t I come back to you?

MOIRA (Looking at him with admiration): Oh, Rex, you are perfect; you are a perfect man.

REX: Well, I can say with sincerity that you are a complete woman.

MOIRA: After that I suppose there is no more to say. We have annihilated one another.

REX (Furiously snatching up cloak and hat): I shall leave you.

MOIRA: But you will come back.

REX: Come back. (He turns to her) You know I shall. I can’t help it. And we shall see.

MOIRA: Yes, shan’t we. Oh, by the way, I promised you this. (Holds up the ladder)

REX: You’d better keep it.

MOIRA: No, Rex. (Drops the ladder at his feet.)

REX: I am going. You never loved me.

MOIRA: Oh, yes I did, Rex. Have you forgotten?

REX: I have forgotten nothing. It is you who have forgotten. It is you who have been unfaithful. I come back to you and you treat me like a stranger. You turn me out. You say you no longer love me. (Regarding her with passionate reproach.) And you told me you had forgiven me.

MOIRA: So I have.

REX: You mean-by ceasing to love me. Do you think anyone wants that sort of forgiveness?

MOIRA: That’s the only sort anyone ever gets.

REX: No. (with emotion) Forgiving means forgetting.

MOIRA (With a wide gesture): Well, I have forgotten - everything.

REX (With a violent movement toward her): You — (Stops and they stand looking at another) And you have called me inconstant. (He backs toward the door with a savage laugh) Constancy!

(Moira stands looking at him, motionless.)


Original Format

Performance, written play script


Photo of set up of "Bound East for Cardiff" performed a year after the theater was launched with "Constancy"


Neith Boyce , “Constancy by Neith Boyce,” Digital History at Ursinus, accessed January 27, 2020,