- | - - P. E W. S. | . T. - D * -- | ---||| |- | |. - G|| | | * - | | | |||||- --|| -- |-|--- --|| £ | - - |-| | - | | CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY DATE DUE GAY LORD PRINTED IN U.s A. T *''' R& W. S. GILBERT’S PLAYS. ORIGINAL PLAYS by W. S. GILBERT. In Four Series. ST. MAR'rm’s LIBRARY EDITION, pott 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2:. net each; leather, gilt edges, 3:. net each. The FlRsT SERIES contains: The Wicked World-— Pygmalion and Galatea-—ChaIity—'l‘he Princess—T he Palace of Truth-—Trial by Jury-Iolanthe. The SECOND SERIES: Broken Hearts—Engaged—- Sweethearts — Gretchen — Dan’l Druce-— Tom Cobb—- I-I.M.S. ‘ Pinafore ’——The Sorcerer -— The Pirates of Penzance. The THIRD SERIES: Comedy and Tragedy—Fog- gety’s Fairy—Rosencrantz and GzIildenstern——Patience —Princess Ida-—The Mikado—Ruddig0re—The Yeomen of the Guard—The Gondolicrs—The Mounteb'anks— Utopia, Limited. The FOURTH SERIES: The Fairy’s Dilemma-—The Grand Duke—His Exce1lency—“l.Iaste to the Wedding” -—Fallen Fairies-—The Gentleman in Black—Branting- hame Hall—Creatures of Impulse—Randa1l’s Thumb- The Fortune-Hunter-—Thespis. THE GILBERT AND SULLIVAN BIRTIlDA\’ BOOK: Quotations for Every Day in the Year, selected from Plays by W. S. GILBERT set to Music by ARTHUR SULLIvAN. Compiled by ALEx. W ATSON. Royal I6mo, cloth, 2:. 6.-:’. LONDON : CHATTO & WINDUS, III ST. M.\R'rIx’s LANE, W.C. ORIGINAL PLAYS FOURTH SERIES . L__ Ellis 6-’ Walery, photo. /P7//$wZ»° -m- ORIGINAL PLAYS - BY m w. S. GILBERT FO UARTH SEA2/E.S CONTAINING THE FAIRY'S DILEMMA, THE GRAND DUKE, HIS EXCELLENCY, “HASTE TO THE WEDDING,” FALLEN FAIRIES, THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK, BRANTINGHAME HALL, CREATURES OF IMPULSE, RANDALL’S THUMB, THE FORTUNE-HUNTER, THESPIs WITH A PORTRAIT I, O N DO N C HAT TO & WIND US 191 I L3; 24406 /I/4‘)')»r)'l\_ >- CONTENTS. THE FAIRY’B DILEMMA Tun: GRAND DUKE HIS ExCELLENCY “HAsTE TO THE WnnnlNG” FALLEN Fzmmzs Tar. GENTLEMAN 114 BLACK BRANTINGHAME HALL CREATURES or IMrULsE . RANDALU5 TRmas . Tm: FORTUNE-HUNTER . TnEs1>1_s . . . . 2 THE FAlRY’S DILEMMA. AN ORIGINAL DOILIEST./C PANTOMLME, IN TWO ACTS. Pro ducea’ at the Garrick T healre, Lomian, under the management 19’ Mr. A rllmr Bourclzier. W; DRAMATIS PERSONZE. S UPERNATURALS. THE DEMON ALCOHOL MR. JERROLD RonERTsII.uv. Tm: FAIRY Roszsvn Miss JESSIE BATEMAN- Imps, Goblins, Fairies, etc. UNNATURALS. CoL. Sm Tnnvoa MAvmzvnnza, _ BA‘RT., ¢. the Household Cavalry MR. ARTHUR BOUROI’HER. (Afterwards Clown .) THE Rev. ALOYsws PAR!‘ITT, M.A., oJ“S. Pm-abola’.'e " ... _MR. 0. B. C.{.ARI:1_IcI=.. (Afterwards Harlequin.) MR. JUSTICE WIIOR'I:I._E, of the High 0'0uz'lqfJuz1icatm'c ... MR. SYl)Nl'ZY VAI.Ii1IT1NIz. (Afterwards Ptmialoon.) THE LAnv Arman WE.u.1>s1'0nE, .Da'u_qhte-rq/‘ the Marquis ¢y‘Harrow... M1ss VIOLET VAunRvGII._ ‘ (Afterwards C'olImIbiIze.) CLARISBA, Daughter qf Mr. Justice Whortle... . ... M1ss DogeoTuY Grt1ttzsrogE. Mas. CRUMnLE, Iiousekeeper to Mr. Pm,"/I'tt _., ,,, M1ss EwELL. ACT I. B'nus 1. THE ABODE OF THE DEMON AL(JOHOL. ScEm: 2. THE VIOARAGE, ACT II. SCENE 1. MR. JUSTICE WHORTLE;S CBOQUET LAWN . SCEm: 2. CLOUDLAND. SCENE 3. GRAND.TRANSFORMATION SCENE: The Revolving Realms 01,’ Radiant Rehabilitation! SCEm: 4. PASTRYCOOK’S AND LCHEESEMONGERS, SHOPS.; 5_°!¥_1i1? 5._'. ’1‘1.i_E \'I.0AI"~AGE, THE FAIRY's DILEMMA. ACT. I. SCENE 1.—THE ABODE OF THE DEMON ALCOHOL. Imps discovered round cauldron, labelled “Rhymes.” #y bustle about, fetching words that rhyme with each other, | and putting them into the cauldron, over which an imp presides. An imp goes off and fetches a label, “Bones”; another goes off and fetches another label, “Jones.” They both put labels into cauldron, which the presiding imp stirs up. A third imp fetches a label, “Town"; a fourth fetches a label, “Brown.” Both labels are thrown into cauldron. First imp fetches label, “Myth”; second imp fetches label, “Smith.” Both labels thrown into cauldron. Presiding imp stirs them all up together. Flames issue from cauldron as each pair of labels is thrown in. Gong. The DEMON ALCOHOL appears through scene. ) Al. It is a Demon's fate that every time He speaks he must express himself in rhyme, And though to do my utmost I endeavour, For rhyme and metre I've no ear whatever. So, business being slack, I've ordered you, My faithful imps (a most painstaking crew), With careful judgment and discretion wary, To cook me up a Rhyming Dictionary, Which I can study in my hours of leisure. Is the job finished? [Imps imply assent. A large volume labelled “Rhyming Dictionary” rises out of cauldron amid flames. ALCOHOL takes it and opens it. . - - Here's indeed a treasure ! - (to imps) Be off! I thank you all! (They go off.) Now that . they've gone - - - - I'll have an hour's study all alone. (Cauldron sinks through trap.) - [ALCOHOL sits on rock and opens 4 THE FAIRY’S DIL"EMMA. Of jiugling rhymes here is a storehouse, quite-— (reads) “White, bright, light, tight, fight, might, sight, bite, hight, kite"; “ Clue, Jew, true, blue, rue, new, too, few, do, coo ! ” [Gong-—FAIuY RosmsUo appears. (annoyed) Come in! Rose. Good morning! Al. Who the deuce are you? Rose. A fairy-—and my name is Rosebud. Al. Is it ! Greatly indebted to you for this visit. What do you want? Rose, With worry I’m quite dizzy: (implov-z'n_ql_1/) I want your help ! Al. (reverting to book). Some other time : I’m busy. Rose. That’s very rude, and rudeness I detest. (pitiably) I’m in an awful fix ! Al. Are you ? Poor old girl! All right, I’ll do my best. Rose (almost crying). Of all good fairies Pm the most unlucky ! For everything goes wrong! Al. " Now look here, ducky, * .. I twig your methods. Every blessed time You make a point of leaving it to me to find the rhy e; That’s an old dodge of yours—your favourite ticket-z It’s all very well, young woman, but it isn’t cricket. f Rose (speaking prose). Come, I don’t want to be hard on you. We’re quite alone, and nobody will know. Your verse is abominably faulty ; suppose we drop into prose ? Al. Well, that’s very nice of you. It’ll save a lot of trouble. These confounded rhymes simply drive me crazy. Rose. Yes—they’re not your strong point. I’ve heard you rhyme “ side-board ” with “ school-board ” ! Al. Well, what’s the matter with that? Rose. And “ well-wisher ” with “ extinguisher ” ! You know you’re a perfect goose ! _ Al. Well, never mind that now. Sit down, Rosy, and let’s be cosy._ Come, that’s not so bad! Rose. Cosy, indeed ! You surely don’t expect me to be cosy with a person of your stamp! You seem to forget that I’m a good fairy. Good fairies have to be very particular. / AZ. How dull. ‘\' Rose. It is dull. Now, "’’e an aunt who is a bad fairy- dark, black hair, heavy eyebrows, dresses in black and red satin—- - . Al. I know her. Z.A.E. A.A.A. Y'S DJ.LEAM/MA. 5 - Rose. Well, you’ve no idea what a good time she has— although she's not received. However, to business. Al. (seductively). Now, come and sit here—do ! Rose. You've such a way with you, I never did! Well, iust for once, although it's really very wrong. (She sits by him; he puts his arm round her waist.) Now, do behave ! (Removes his arm.) I'm not my aunt, you know ! Now, it's my duty as a Good Fairy to watch over respectable young couples and bring their courtship to a happy termination, and it's your duty as a Demon to thwart this intention by every means in your power. Now, there's been very little doing in my line of late—and I've received a pretty strong hint from the Fairy Queen that if I don’t find a worthy young couple to Protect, whose courtship is threatened with destruction by a Malevolent Demon, Amy office will be abolished, and I shall be relegated to dance in the back rows with the stout ones. . And that's a pretty look-out, isn’t it? Al. It isn’t cheery. But where do I come in ? Rose. I’ll tell you. After a deal of trouble I’ve found the very people I want—a mild young clergyman of blameless life, and a very respectable hospital nurse, who are over head and ears in love with each other. Now, the hospital nurse— Al. Pretty? Rose. Fine girl—is pursued by Colonel Sir Trevor Mauleverer, a wicked Baronet in the Life Guards, whose intentions towards her are too dreadful to talk about. Will you believe it, this bold, bad man actually intends to carry her off to his flat in- Al. I know–Shaftesbury Avenue. Itose. Not this time—Whitehall Mansions. Al. Oh, naughty, naughty! But are you sure of your facts? • Itose. No doubt at all about them. Why, I’ve seen him making love to her ! Al. Sure he doesn’t want to marry her? Rose. Want to marry her ! Don't I tell you he's a Baronet! Al. I see—a bad Baronet! Rose. Why, aren't all Baronets bad? One would think you'd never read a shilling shocker in your life Now, I want you to introduce yourself to Sir Trevor Mauleverer and explain that you’re his Familiar Spirit—that you know he entertains the worst designs against this young woman, and that you are willing to help him in every way. He'll jump at your offer. You'll carry her off to Whitehall Mansions, and I’ll interfer just in time—before any mischief happens, you know-f restore her to the arms of her faithful clergyman. 6 THE FAIRY’S DILEMMA. Al. (who has been listening in amazement). Well, I’m da-—- (reoollects himself )-—-I beg pardon! Rose. Oh, don’t mind me, George. . Al. I really couldn't help it. It relieves one’s feelings. Besides, it’s so expressive. Rose. And so true. Al. Eh? Ah—yes—-yes—exactly. But look here, for a Good Fairy you’re an uncommonly cool hand. Rose. Good Fairies are naturally cooler than Demons. Al. But, I say, aren’t you playing it rather low down for a Good Fairy? ' '- Rose. What do you mean? Al. Respectable young girl, you know—clerical 1over—bad Baronet—flat in Whitehall Mansions, eh ?’ Rose. Well, you are squeamish! Don’t I tell you that I mean to rescue her and restore her to her young man before any harm can possibly happene? a Al. Yes, you did say that. But, Rosy—come a little nearer. Rose. No, it’s not right. Besides, your scales scratch. Al. (wlleedlingly). What am I to get for this, eh ? Rose. Get for it l Oh, you don’t wantto get anything for it. A good action is its own reward. (Aside.) He’s rather a dear! I wish he wasn’t so spotty! . . Al. Now, if I get you out of this scrape—(Pm thinking of settling, you know)—if I get you out of this scrape, and we make it all trumps, eh? What do you say, Rosy? Rose. Oh, I couldn’t think of it! That is a .matter that I must absolutely decline to discuss—at present. Now, I must be off. I’ve got to change a respectable young plumber and a good plain cook into Harlequin and Columbine——and the electric light is a consideration. [Backing towards opening. Al. But look here, don’t be in.a hurry. Suppose it turns out all right, eh ? Rose. Well, if you carry off theyoung woman—and. if I interfere just in time—and if I succeed in reuniting the young people—and if the Fairy Queen is pleased—and if I'm not relegated to the back rows among the stout ones-—and if it all turns out trumps-— Al. (eagerly). Well? Rose. Well, I’ll see! [She steps back into opening, whicli closes. Stage darkens. END or SCEuE I. .THE FAIR Y ’S DILEMMA. '7 jam tart and custards SCEs]; II.—IzvT1<:a1oE or THE VICARAGE or S. PmAsoLA. The Rev. ALoYSIUs PAIl1<‘I'I."1‘ discovered playing “ Ihe Lost Chord” on Izarmonium. Camera with stand, etc., Mns. CRUMBLE, his housekeeper, also discovered. Aloy. Mrs. Crumble? Mrs. C. Yes, sir. Aloy. I am expecting a few friends to luncheon. Sir Trevor Mauleverer, Miss Clarissa Whortle Mrs. C. The young lady which he’s going to marry, sir? Aloy. Never mind that—and' Nurse Jane Collins, who is in attendance on Lady Whortle. fvlrs. C. Yes, sii'—the young lady which you’re going to marry, sir. Aloy. Sir Trevor and I are certainly engaged to these young ladies, but that is not now the question. We will confine our- selves, if you please, to the question, which is—what do you propose to give us for luncheon? Mrs. C. There’s yesterday’s chicken, sir, which will make a beautiful “ devil.” Aloy. Er-—no, I think not. I should prefer yesterday’s chicken cooked in any other way. A salmi, for instance. Mrs. C. And there’s a nice little leg of lamb that came from Wales yesterday. That, with apple dumplings and an open . . Aloy. Will do extremely well. At half-past one, Mrs. ‘ Crumble. Mrs. G. It shall be ready, sir. Oh, sir, I do ‘hope Miss Clarissa will be happy with Sir Trevor! Aloy. Why should you concern yourself about that, Mrs. Crumble ? Mrs. 0. Why, sir, these military baronights! Well, I can’t say as I holds with military baronights. Aloy. (reproachfully). How unjust you are! What harm have military baronets ever done to you, Mrs. Crumble’! Mrs. C. Lor, sir, no harm whatever! The ideal Only in all the stories as I ever read, whenever I come across a military baronight I know as he’s going to turn out unsatisfactory. Aloy. You need have no apprehension in this instance. Sir Trevor Mauleverer is one of my oldest friends—a thorough English gentleman of the best type. 8 .THE FAIRY ’S DILEMMA. Mrs. C. I’m very glad to hear it, sir, for Miss Clarissa——- Aloy. Now never mind Miss Clarissa. You can go, Mrs. Crumble. Mrs. 0. Yes, sir. [Emit MnS. CRUMBLE. Aloy. Mrs. Crumble’s questions are inconvenient, .and her deductions incorrect, but I am happy to say that I have con- trived to answer her without any violation 0 the truth. Sir Trevor is engaged, but not to Clarissa Whortle. I am also engaged, but not to Nurse Collins. So far, all is satisfactory, but what did Mrs. Crumble mean by her remark about military baronets? Mere ignorant prejudice, of course. Trevor would never—no, no, of course not. It’s merely manner on his part- nothing but manner. Still, I do sometimes wish that he-} (Noise without.) Who is that? Not the new curate, I hope. Enter SIB. TREvoR in undress um:/'orm. Sir T. Aloysius, my dear fellow-—— Aloy. Trevor, my old friend! [They shake hands. Sir T. This‘is a critical moment, Aloysius! In an hour’s time we shall have achieved the good deed to which we solemnly pledged ourselves a year ago ! In one hour we shall be married men! Aloy. Yes—still, I cannot help wishing that the humane and unselfish work to which we have so earnestly dedicated ourselves could have been achieved without resort to a deception which, harmless though it be, is a deception nevertheless. Sir T. I think you are, perhaps, over-sensitive on this point. Recollect that, maddened with righteous indignation at the oppression to which weak, helpless, and submissive women are but too often subjected at the hands of arbitrary, dictatorial, and mercenary parents, we solemnly vowed that we would devote ourselves, heart and soul, to the emancipation of the very first instances of such oppression that came to our knowledge— even though it were necessary to take the extreme course of marrying them in order to release them from such inhuman thraldom. Aloy. No doubt, no doubt. Clarissa/s father, Mr. Justice ‘Nhortle, an extremely irritable, arbitrary, and dictatorial old person, insisted upon her marrying one of three men of wealth and title. Sir T. I had the honour of being one of the three. Aloy. You had the honour of being one of the three. Seeing no other way to avert the doom with which the helpless girl THE F/t11€Y’S DILEMMA. 9 was threatened, I promised her that as soon as she came of age I would go so far as to make her my wife. She came of age yesterday, and we are to be married before the Registrar to-day. Sir T. Prompt. Aloy. Yes, short reckonings make long husbands. Nurse Collins is, I have no doubt, equally the victim of some description of oppression, and you, I am convinced, have equally sacrificed yourself at the altar of altruistic self- abuegation. Sir T. (after a pause). Aloysius, I am about to confide to you a secret which, hitherto, I have confided to no one. The lady whom you know as Jane Collins, the hospital nurse, is no other than the Lady Angela Wealdstone, only child of the haughty and despotic Marquis of Harrow! Aloy. The lady who ran away from home a year ago ? Bless my heart, you don’t say so! Sir T. The Marquis had insisted on her marrying the wealthy but disreputable Duke of Danderly, whom she regarded with absolute detestation. At that time Lady Angela was a year under age and a Ward in Chancery. So, at my suggestion, she left her home, and, changing her name to Jane Collins, she entered herself as probationer at Bushey Heath Cottage Hospital. She is now a fully qualified nurse, and as such I procured her an engagement to attend on Lady Whortle, who, as you know, is a chronic invalid. Lady Angela also came of age yesterday, and we are also to be married before the Registrar to-day. Aloy. Yes. There are, however, two points upon which I confess my conscience is uneasy. Although I embarked upon my engagement to Clarissa from a simple sense of duty, I cannot conceal from myself that, despite a certain tendency to frivolity, which it will be y constant study to correct, I have grown to be strongly attac ed to Clarissa. Sir T. And, between ourselves, I am devotedly fond of Angela. Aloy. Indeed! Ihad no idea of this. Sir T. Iam devotedly fond of Angela, but as her affection for me is based entirely on the belief that I am sacrificing my life’s happiness to her interests, it won’t do to let her know, just yet, how particularly happy I am to be permitted to do so. Now, what is the second point that exercises you ? Aloy. Why, the deception to which I have been a passive party—my having allowed everyone to suppose that I was engaged to Lady Angela, whereas I was really engaged to " IO T HE FA 11? I/"S DILEAIMA. Clarissa! It is true that I never said as much to any one, but —I never contradicted it. ‘ Sir T. My dear boy, the arrangement was made with the full consent and connivance of both ladies, and no one has any right to complain. After all, what does it amount to? You are supposed to be engaged to Lady Angela, whereas you are really engaged to Miss Clarissa. I am supposed to be engaged to Miss Clarissa, whereas I am really engaged to Lady A.ngela—and both ladies enter, heart and soul, into the arrangement! [Enter CLAaISsA WnorvTLE, and LAm: ANGELA WEALDSTONE. LADY ANGELA is dressed in the costume of a professional hospital nurse, with long cloak, cottage bon/net, grey dress, white bib and apron, etc. CLARISSA wears a handsome mantle and elaborate picture hat. Clar. (politely). Good morning, Sir Trevor. Aloysius, my dearly loved one! (Embraces ALOYsrUs.) . Lady An. (politely). How do you do, Mr. Parfitt? Trevor, dearest Trevor, are we late ? (Embracing Sm TnEvoE.) Sir Ll’. My dear Angela, you could never be too soon, and you never are too late. Lady An. (alarmed). Hush, Trevor—y0u forget! Sir T. N o. I have confided our secret to Mr. Parfitt. Lady An. Have you ? And I have told Clarissa ! Clar. Yes ; J ane—I mean Lady Angela—has told me every- thing. Lady An. You are not angry with me, Mr. Parfitt, for this innocent little deception? Aloy. I have, alas! forfeited all right, Lady Angela, to be hyperoritical where an innocent deception is concerned. . Lady An. Oh, don’t take a professional view of so. small a matter, Mr. Parfittl If I had passed under my own name, I should have been discovered at once, and restored by my trustees to my inhuman father’s custody. . Aloy. (calmly). And is Clarissa happy? Clar. Happy! I should think so! Are we not to be married to-day? Am I not to be made his whose noble altruism has rescued me from a doom worse than death itself? (Recollecting herself.) Oh, I beg your pardon, Sir ‘Trevor! Sir T. Pray don't! I quite understand. Clar. What I mean is that marriage, under compulsion, with any gentleman, however eligible, must be distasteful to a girl who . THE FA[RY’.S‘ DILEMIIIA. : "Sir T. But I was not eligible. I was already engaged to Lady Angela. . Clar. Now, if you had been free Aloy. Clarissa, let us not pursue this painful theme into the embarrassing fields of illusive hypothesis. It is enough that your father insisted upon your marriage with a gentleman who, for whatever reason, was not to your taste, and that I interfered to prevent it. Lady An. It’s like a tale of old chivalry! Two poor help- less maidens, in dire straits, rescued by two gallant knight- errants, who had pledged themselves to sacrifice their life’s happiness in their service! Ah, Trevor,I would that I were worthy of you! /Sir T. Take heart, Angela, it may be that you are. Lady An. Dearest! Clar. In one short hour we shall be each other’s. But before that can be, my father, who is going to open the Commission, will stop here on his way that you may photograph him in his robes. Aloy. It was so arranged yesterday. Everything is pre- pared. There is one point to which I should like to draw your attention. In the presence of the Judge it is unhappily necessary that I should address myself in terms of endear- ment to Lady Angela, and that Trevor should direct his attentions to yourself. May I suggest that we do not over-act our parts? Lady An. I’m sure, Mr. Parfitt, you are always most par- ticular upon that point. Such perfunctory endearments as are necessary to the situation have been performed by you with a delicacy—a self-restraint which-—- Aloy. A—yes. I—I was not referring to myself, Lady Angela. But, to be frank, I have noticed a teudency—unin- tentional, I need hardly say—on the part of our good friend Trevor in his attentions to Clarissa to unnecessarily accentuate the situation. That he does so and that she reciprocates it in the warmth of their enthusiasm in a good cause, I am con- vinced; but still—they do it. Sir T. My dear fellow, if I am to be natural, I must not be hampered. It has ever been the maxim of the Mauleverers to do what they had to do with all the energy at their command. It’s in the blood. Aloy. I see. I didn’t know it was in the blood—that makes a difference, of course. At the same time? Clar. Aloysius, I think you are unjust. You cannot but be aware that we have to create a certain impression, and that we . 12 THE FAIR]/"S DILEMMA. must be realistic if we are to beconvincing. I love you, dearest Aloysius, with a fervour—with a devotion—- Enter Ms. J UsTrcE WnonTmr. in fall robes and full-bottomed wig, ushered by Mas. CRUMBLE. EOLARISSA, turning to Sir. TsEvos with simulated afic- tion, continues- —with a devotion, with an enthusiasm which I can scarcely expect you, dearest Trevor, to rival in the overflowing fulness of its intensity. It is not in man’s nature to do so, and I do not complain. (LADY ANGELA has crossed afectionately to ALOYsIUs, who, formerly holding her at arm’s length by the waist, is much preoccupied by the proceedings of CLARISsA with Sis Tnnvon.) Lady An. Aloysius, dearly loved one, tell me, shall the little sitting-room be pink or blue? Aloy. (preoccupied). I think, perhaps, a quiet plaid Judge (who has been watching them). Nearly finished your endearments? They’re a little oloying! Clar. (in afeoted surprise). Papal you here already! Judge. Yes, come now, be quick. I can’t keep the Grand Jury waiting. Where shall I sit? Here? (Goes to chair up stage.) . Aloy. That will do excellently, Sir John. Permit me. (Arranges robes, then foousses, rather nervously.) Lady An. Sir John, you must allow me to compliment you upon the impressive effect of your judicial robes. ' Judge. Rather tasty, I think. But it’s not so much the robes as the wig. There’s a great deal more in this wig than you’d . suppose, Miss Collins. Lady An. That I can quite believe, Sir John. Judge. Yes. Now observe. Without it (taking it of) I am simply an intellectual middle-aged gentleman of a refined and cultivated type; but with it, Miss Collins (putting it on), I am at once the embodiment of the abstract Majesty of the Law— three centuries of the concentrated wisdom of both Houses of Parliamentin tabloid form. (Business offocussing.) Clar. (aside to LADY ANGELA). Papa always keeps his wig by his bedside at night, and whenever argument runs high he puts it on, and mamma knocks under at once. Aloy. How would you like to be taken, Sir John ? Solemnly, as delivering a judgment"? Judge. No, I think not. Humorously, as cutting a judicial THE FAIRY ’S DILEMMA. I3 joke. Judicial humour is my strong point. A trial at law is an extremely serious matter for both parties, and both parties are generally in a condition of heart-aching despondency until the verdict is delivered. I hold it to be a kind act, a consider- ate act, and a consolatory act on the part of the Judge to relieve that depression, to dissipate that despondency, and to cause both parties to forget, if possible, the important issues at stake by indulging them with a course of jocular comment—of light- hearted faceiias, and in short, with adisplay of general a—a—- Sir T. Tomfoolery? . Judge. A—well, yes—thank you, Sir Trevor—that’s not quite the word I wanted, but something of that description. I flatter myself that “ Roars of laughter, in which the learned judge could not help joining,” is a paragraph that appears more often in cases tried before me than in any other Court of Justice in the kingdom. Aloy. (timidly). But, if I may venture to make a suggestion, Sir John, a jooular attitude would be scarcely in keeping with: Judge (angrily). But you may not venture to make a sug- gestion, Mr. Parfitt. I am not here to receive suggestions ! (ALoYSrUs in great terror.) I am here to be photographed in my own fashion, and unless I am photographed in my own fashion, I will not be photographed at all. (Very'angry.) Ular. But, papa, do listen to reason—-—— Judge. Great Seal! Haven’t I been listening to reason all the time I’ve been talking ? (Getting up.) However, there’s an end of the matter. Call my carriage. (Comes down.) Aloy. Oh, Sir John, pray don’t be angry! Indeed, I meant for the best ! Judge. “ Meant for the best!” Ular. Papa, I’m so sorry I vexed you ! Judge. “ Sorry you vexed me!” Sir T. Come, Sir John, don’t be severe"with my darling Clarissa—poor little popsy-wopsy, tiddle toddlecumsl (Fond- ling her.) Judge. “Popsy-wopsy, tiddle toddlecums!” (During this, ALOYsws has been empressing annoyance at SIR TnEvoR’S display of afection towards CLAmsSA, and is gestieulating to him to re- frain.) If you are an epileptic, sir, say so, and you shall be treated accordingly. (Sulkily resumes his seat. ALOYsrUs at camera.) I am but little accustomed to be dictated to, and I will not submit to it—I will not submit to it. (Boiling with suppressed anger.) Are you ready, sir‘! ,_Aloy. Quite ready,'Sir John. (JUDGE suddenly assumes a I4 THE FA1RY’S DILEMMA. grotesque and jocular attitude and empression, in strong contrast with his recent anger.) Steady, Sir J ohn—keep your eye upon this picture. Judge (fu/rious). I will not keep my eye upon that picture. I shall look where I please. (Resumes jocular attitude.) Aloy. (very frightened). Now then-—one, two, three, four! (Puts cap on camera.) Thank you, Sir J ohn. Judge (resuming his fury). And so you may, sir. It is the last time I put myself to this inconvenience to meet your wishes. (To MEs. CRUMBLE). Call my carriage. Good mo[rning. Emit. [As soon as he has gone CLAmsSA rushes to ALoYSIUs, LADY ANGELA to Str TEEvoE. Lady An. Now that that grumpy old gentleman has gone we can talk at our crse. ’ Clur. Dearest Aloysius, you are vexed. Don’t be angry with poor papa! He’s really very funny in Court. Aloy. It is not your papa, Clarissa, with whom I am vexed. I do think, Trevor (I am sure it’s unintentional), but I do think that you and Clarissa overdo it. Sir T. My dear fellow, I must play the game! [J anGE heard speaking without. CLAuISSA runs to SIR Tnnvon, LADY ANGELA to ALoYSIUs. CLABISSA and Sm TnnvoE as afectionate lovers, ALOYSIUS holding LADY ANGELA in a constrained attitude at arm’s length. J UDGF. enters. Judge. My threc—cornered hat—I forgot my three-cornered hat! Oh, here it is! (Finds his hat and eatit.) " ' ‘. Lady An. Has he really gone, Clarissa ‘I. Olar. Yes, dear; the carriage has driven off at last! [CLARISSA reverts to ALOYsros and LADY ANGELA to SIR TEEvoE. , Aloy. Then, my dear Clarissa, we should do well to repair at once to the Registrar, and beg the good man to unite us with all convenient despatch. I confess that it pains me to have to resort to an opposition establishment—it savours of disloyalty to my cloth—but there is no other way, and we will be married in church as soon as the civil process has made you mine beyond dispute. The fly is waiting. . Sir T. And when you come back it will be our turn to enlist that gentleman’s good services-—and then it will be our painful duty to break the news to our respective fathers-in-law—I to the Marquis—that won’t be pleasant—— ' THE FA11i'Y’S DILEMMA. 15 Aloy. And I to the Judge. That—that will require a little tact. Sir T. Just a little tact. By the way, excuse me for two minutes. They’ve been altering the regimental uniform——- Lady A. What, again? Sir T. Yes—and I want to send a wire to my tailor. 1’ll be back directly. [lflmit Sm TnEvoR. om. Are you ready, dear Aloysius ? Aloy. Yes, yes; I’m ready. But if you will allow me to makefa suggestion, Clarissa, it seems to me that the hat and mantle you are wearing are scarcely in accordance with the modest and unobtrusive nature of the process to which we are about to submit ourselves; Wc—we desire rather to avoid_ observation than to court it. Gla’r. Why, I bought this ‘hat on purpose to do honour to the occasion! Besides, it’s too late now--—I can’t go home and chanve. _ Laciiy An. Let me make a suggestion. Pin up your skirt, take my bonnet and veil and apron and cloak, and then any one who sees you will be sure to take you for me. _ Aloy. Really, my dear Clarissa, Lady Angela’s kind and thoughtful proposal appears to me to solve the difficulty. _f Clar. _(r}:1nt01:zf1.tg‘ hat aaéi z1z1m11lzt1l)e).d D0 yc1)3u glllfik 2 _\/Velli 1 you w1s 1 0 course i s a e one. u 0 oysius, gave seven guineas for that hat! " [Emit with Ai~iGELA’s cloak, bonnet, veil, and apron, . leaving her own behind. " Aloy. (very respeczf/'ully). And now, Lady Angela, that we are alone, permit me to express a modest hope that the per- functory embraces which the unfortunate but autocratic necessities of the situation have compelled me to bestow upon you have been conceived and executed with as much delicacy and personal repression as the distressmg circumstances of the case permitted. " _ _' Lady An. M1‘. Parfitt, you have been, if anythmg, too discreet. . . Aloy. Thank you, Lady Angela. If, in the reckless abandon- ment of the moment, I have been too fiery_—if I should unhappily have exceeded the strict limit of what is customary between engaged couples, I beg you will not attribute it to a desire to take an unmauly advantage of the relations which are supposed t ‘ t between us. . r O I/fxlzzsly An. Mi". Parfitt, you have shown yourself throughout the transaction to be a gentleman who is actuated by an ex- aggeratedly delicate appreciation of what is due to a lady whom 16 THE FAIR!/’S DILEMMA. circumstances have placed in a most difficult and equivocal situation. f Aloy. Lady Angela, I most respectfully beg to thank you or—— [Gong. At this moment the FAIBY RosEnvn appears through back of scene. They are both conscious that a third person is present, though they have not seen her. ALOYsms suddenly changes his manner, and addressing LADY ANGELA with efusion, con- tinues—- As I was saying, I respectfully thank you for the overwhelming 1ove—the whole-souled affection—the unutterably tender de- votion with which you have so amply endowed me, my respect- fully adored young friend ! Lady An. (as 2:/' suddenly conscious of the presence of a third person). But hush, my Aloysius, we are observed! [They are much surprised at seeing the fairy. Lady An. Dear me, what a very singular young person! Aloy. May I be permitted to ask--—whom I have the pleasure of addressing ! Rose. I am the Fairy Rosebud. I am here To help both you and Mr. Parfitt, dear. Such love as yours we fairies much admire, And I’ll afford the aid that you require. Aloy. But there’s some mistake—we are not in need of any assistance at present. And in this costume—and at a Vicarage! In all my experience I- never saw anything so—so inadequate! Lady An. It’s perfectly scandalous—in a Vicarage! Rose. I understand your feelings, and would spare ‘em, But I’m :1 Fairy, and I've got to wear ‘c1. In the fond love that yoe’’e just now protested As a Good Fairy I’m much interested; Though threatened by a scheme of foulest tissue, Your love I’1l pilot to a happy issue ! Aloy. But, really—— Lady An. I think, Mr. Parfitt, that if we make it quite clear to this young person that we are thoroughly competent to conduct our own affairs without supernatural intervention, she will, perhaps, be so good as to apply her protective machinery to some young couple to whom it may be of service. Aloy. Really, Miss—a—a—I did not catch your name? Rose. I am the Fairy Rosebud —I am here?- Aloy. Really, Miss Rosebud. I assure you that we have no occasion for your services. And if you are blessed with parents who are still living, may we suggest that you repair at once to _-mm- THE FAIRY'S DILEMMA. 17 old Mr. and Mrs. Rosebud, and point out to them the absolute necessity of their providing you with an outfit that shall be in stricter accordance with prevailing prejudices. Rose, Don't be absurd, but listen ere I go. A Wicked Demon, my official foe, Intends to carry off your bosom's pride- - The fair Jane £ standing by your side- And place her in your hated rival's power: This he'll effect in less than half-an-hour. But do not fear, I shall be close at hand To thwart the ill my demon foe has planned. [Going to opening. Aloy. But, my good woman, permit me to assure you that you are entirely mistaken in supposing- Rose. Mistaken Happily for both your sakes The Fairy Rosebud never makes mistakes : You'll live her faultless judgment to extol- But one word more-Beware of Alcohol! (Disappears.) Lady An. Well, this places us in a pleasant predicament, Mr. Parfitt ! That muddle-headed young woman is about to put her foot into it to an extent of which she has no notion. Aloy. It's extremely embarrassing, Lady Angela. She wouldn’t give me time to explain. Lady An. And then, “Beware of Alcohol” indeed! As if we were addicted to anything of the kind. Aloy. I am sure, Lady Angela, we are most abstemious— most abstemious. A glass of light claret or a little ginger beer— Lady An. Do you really think she's a fairy? Aloy. Well, Lady Angela, I set up no pretensions to be considered a judge of fairies, but she certainly appeared and disappeared in a most unaccountable manner. Lady An. Here comes Clarissa—how astonished she will be Aloy. I think, perhaps, Lady Angela, it would be better for me to break this embarrassing little incident to Clarissa on our way to the Registrar's. Ah, here she is ! Enter CLARISSA in LADY ANGELA's bonnet, apron, clo" streamers, etc., and looking, with her veil down, exact/ LADY ANGELA looked at her entrance. Lady An. My dear Clarissa, the disguise is perfect. No C would know you. IV. C 13 THE F414’ Y 35' U._EL. 83 resume all my social and civil functions, and claim my darling as my blushing bride! . . Julia. Oh—then you haven’t heard? _ Ern. My love, I heard nothing. How could I? There are no daily papers where I come from. . Julia. Why, Ludwig challenged Rudolph and won, and now he's Grand Duke, and he’s revived the law for another century! Ern. What! But you’re not seri0us—you’re only joking ! Julia. My good sir, I’m a -light-hearted girl, but I don’t chaff bogies. Em. Well, that’s the meanest dodge I ever heard of! Julia. Shabby trick, I call it. Ern. But you don’t mean to say that you’re going to cry oil‘! Julia. I really can’t afford to wait until your time is up. You know, I’ve always set my face against long engagements. Em. Then defy the law and marry me now. We will fly to your native country, and I’ll play broken-English in London as you play broken-German here! Julia. No. These legal technicalities cannot be defied. Situated as you are, you have no power to make me your wife. At best you could only make me your widow. Em. Then be my widow--my little, dainty, winning, win- some widow! Julia. Now what would be the good of that? Why, you goose ! I should marry again within a month! DUnT.—EaEasr and JULIA, Em. If the light of love’s lingering ember Has faded in gloom, ' You cannot neglect, O remember, A voice from the tomb l That stern supernatural diction Should act as a solemn restriction, Although by a_ mere legal fiction A voice from the tomb! \IULIA' (in affected terror). . " I own that that utterance chills me—- It withers my bloom ! With awful emotion it thrills me—- That voice from the tomb! Oh, spectre, won’t anything lay thee? Though pained to deny or gainsay thee, In this case I cannot obey thee, Thou voice from the tomb ! dancin . So spectre appalling ( 9) ’ I bid you good-d,ay— Perhaps you’ll be calling When passing this way. THE GRAND DUKE ; OR, Your bogeydom scorning, And all your love-lorning, I bid you good-morning, ' I bid you good-day. Em. (furious). My oifer recalling, ' Your words I obey-— Your fate is appalling, And full of dismay. To pay for this scorning I give you fair warning I’ll haunt you each morning, Each night, and each day ! [Repeat Ensemble, and exeunt in opposite directions. Re-enter the Wedding Procession dancing. Cnoiws. Now bridegroom and bride let us toast In a magnum of merry champagne-- Let us make of this moment the most, We may not be so lucky again. So drink to our sovereign host And his highly intelligent reign‘-— His health and his bride’s let us toast In a magnum of merry champagne ! [March .heard. Lud. (rccit). Why, who is this approaching, Upon our joy encroaching '4’ Some rascal come a-poaching Who's heard that wine we’re broaching? ' All, Who may this be? Who may this be? Who is he? Who is he ? Who is he? Enter HERALD. Her. The Prince of Monte Carlo, . From Mediterranean water, Has come here to bestow ’ . On you his beautiful daughter. They've paid off all they owe, As every statesman oughter—- That Prince of Monte Carlo And his be-eutiful daughter! Chorus. The Prince of Monte Carlo, &c. Her. The Prince of Monte Carlo, Who is so very partickler, Has heard that you’re also ' For ceremony a stickler— –m- THE STATUTORY DUEL. 85 Therefore he lets you know . By word of mouth auric'lar- (That Prince of Monte Carlo Who is so very particklar)- Chorus, The Prince of Monte Carlo, &c, Her. That Prince of Monte Carlo, From Mediterranean water, Has come here to bestow On you his be-eutiful daughter ! Lud. (recit.). His Highness we know not—nor the locality In which is situate his Principality; But, as he guesses by some odd fatality, This is the shop for cut and dried formality! Let him appear- He'll find that we're Remarkable for cut and dried formality. [Reprise of March. Exit HERALD. LUDw1G beckons his Court. Lud, I have a plan—I'll tell you all the plot of it— He wants formality—he shall have a lot of it! [Whispers to them, through symphony. Conceal yourselves, and when I give the cue, Spring out on him—you all know what to do! [All conceal themselves behind the draperies that enclose the stage, Pompous March. Enter the PRINCE and PRINCEss of MonTE CARLo, attended by six theatrical-looking nobles and the Court Costumier. DUET.—PRINCE and PRINCEss. Prince, We're rigged out in magnificent array (Our own clothes are much gloomier) In costumes which we’ve hired by the day From a very well-known costumier. Cost. (bowing). I am the well-known costumier. Princess. With a brilliant staff a Prince should make a show (It's a rule that never varies), So we've engaged from the Theatre Monaco Six supernumeraries. Nobles. We're the supernumeraries. {ll At a salary immense, Quite regardless of expense, Six supernumeraries ! hey do not speak, for they break our grammar's l; And their language is lamentable- . ld they never take off their gloves, because their nails are not presentable. Our nails are not presentable ! 86 THE GRAND DUKE; OR, Princess. To account for their shortcomings manifest We explain, in a whisper bated, They are wealthy members of the brewing interest To the Peerage elevated. Nobles. To the Peerage elevated. All. { lvgleegere } very, very rich, And accordingly, as sich, To the Peerage elevated. Prince. Well, my dear, here we are at last—just in time to compel Duke Rudolph to fulfil the terms of his marriage contract. Another hour and we should have been too late. Princess. Yes, papa, and if you hadn’t fortunately discovered a means of making an income by honest industry, we should never have got here at all. Prince. Very true. Confined for the last two years within the precincts of my palace by an obdurate bootmaker who held a warrant for my arrest, I devoted my enforced leisure to a study of the doctrine of chances—main‘ly with the view of ascertaining whether there was the remotest chance of my ever going out for a walk again—and this led to the discovery of a singularly fascinating little round game which I have called Roulette, and by which, in one sitting, I won no less than five thousand francs! My first act was to pay my bootmaker-—my second, to engage a good useful working set of second-hand nobles—and my third, I0 hurry you off to Pfennig Halbpfennig as fast as a train de lume could carry us! ‘ Princess. Yes, and a pretty job-lot of second-hand nobles you’ve scraped together! Prince (doublfully). Pretty, you think? Humph! I don’t know. I shouldsay tol-lol, my love——only tol-lol. They are not wholly satisfactory. There is a certain air of unreality about them-—they are not convincing. Cost. But, my goot friend, vhat can you expect for eighteen- pence a day! . Prince. Now take this Peer, for instance. What the deuce do you call him? Cost. Him? Oh, he's a swell—he’s the Duke of Riviera. Prince. Oh, he’s a Duke, is he? Well, that’s no reason why he should look so confoundedly haughty. (To Noble.) Be affable, sir! (Noble takes attitude of aflfability.) That’s better. (Passing_ to another.) Now, who’s this with his moustache coming off? Cost. Why, you’re Viscount Mentonc, ain’t you? Noble. Blest if I know. (Turning up sword belt.) It’s wrote here—yes, Viscount Mentone. aura‘ ST}? rz/‘Tony DUEL. 87 Cost. Then vhy don’t you say so? ’O1d' yerself up—you ain’t carryin’ sandwic_:l_1_ boards now. [Adjusts his moustache. _ Prince. Now, once for all, you Peers—when His Highness arrives, don’t stand likesticks, but appear to take an intelligent and sympathetic interest in what is going on. You needn’t say anything, but let your gestures be in accordance with the spirit of the conversation. Now take the word from me. Afiability! (attitude). . ‘Submission! (attitude). Surprise! (attitude). Shame! (attitude). Grief! (attitude). Joy! (attitude). That's better! ‘You can do it if you like! . Princess. But, papa, where in the world is the Court? There is positively no one here to receive us! I can’t help feeling that Rudolph wants to get out of it because I’m poor. He’s a miserly little wretch—that’s what he is. ' _ Prince. Well, I shouldn’t go so fares to say that. I should rather describe him as an enthusiastic collector of coins—of the realm—and we must not be too hard u n a numismatist if he feels a certain disinclination to part wit some of his really very valuable specimens. It’s a_ pretty hobby : I’ve often thought I should like to collect some coins myself. Princess. Papa, I’m sure there’s some one behind that curtain. I saw it move! ‘ Prince. Then no doubt they are "coming. Now mind, you. Peers—haughty aliability combined with a sense of what is due to your exalted ranks, or I’ll fine you half a franc each—upon my soul, I will! [Gone]. The curtains fl. back and the Court are dis- covered. They give a wild yell and rush on to the stage dancing‘ wildly, with PRIsCE, PErscESs, and Nobles, ‘who are taken by surprise at first, but eventually join in a reckless dance. At the end all fall down emhausted. Lud. There, what do you think of that? 'That’s our ofiicial ceremonial for the reception of visitors of the very highest distinction. ’ Prince (puzzled). It’s very quaint—vory curious indeed. Prettily footed, too. Prettily footed. Lud. Would you like to see how we say “good-bye ” to visitors of distinction? That ceremony is also performed with the foot. Prince. Really, this tone—ah, but perhaps you have not completely grasped the situation ‘! Lud. Not altogether. ' Prince. Ah, then I'll give you a lead over. ( Significantly.) I am the father of the Princess of Monte Carlo. Doesn’t that convey any idea to the Grand Ducal mind? 88 THE _GR.41VD DUKE; OR, ficance.) Lud. (stolidly). Nothing definite. Prince (aside). H’m—very odd! Never mind—try again! (Aloud) This is the daughter of the Prince of Monte Carlo. Do you take? " Lud. (still puzzled). No—not yet. Go on—don’t give it up —I daresay it will come presently. Prince. Very odd—never mind-—try again. (With sly signi- Twenty years ago ! Little doddle doddle! Two little doddle doddlesl Happy father—hers and yours. Proud mother-yours and hers! Hah! Now you take? I see you do! I see you do! ' Lud. Nothing is more annoying than to feel that you’re not equal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation. I wish he’d say something intelligible. Prince. You didn’t expect me ? Lud. (jumping at it.) N o, no. I grasp that—thank you very much. (Shaking hands with him.) No, I did not expect you! Prince. I thought not. But ha! ha! at last I have escaped from my enforced restraint. (General movement of alarm.) (T0 crowd who are stealing of.) N 0, no—you misunderstand me. I mean l’ve paid my debts ! All. Oh! (They return.) Princess (aflectionately). But, my darling, I’m afraid that even now you don't quite realize who I am! (Embracing him.) Baroness. Why, you forward little hussy, how dare you? [Takes her away from Lvnwle. Lud. You mustn’t do that, my dear—never in the presence of the Grand Duchess, I beg! Princess (weeping). Oh, papa, he’s got a Grand Duchess! Lud. A. Grand Duchess ! My good girl, l’ve got three Grand Duchesses ! Princess. Well, I’m sure! respectable Court. Prince. All these Grand Dukes have their little fancies, my love. This potentate appears to be collecting wives. It’s a pretty hobby—I should like to collect a few myself. This (admiring BARoxEss) is a charming specimen—an antique, I should say—of the early Merovingian period, if I’m not mis- taken ; and here’s another—a Scotch lady, I think (alluding to JULIA), and (alluding to LISA) a little one thrown in. Two half-quarterns and a makeweight! (T0 LUDwIG.) Have you such a thing as a catalogue of the Museum? ' Princess, ButI cannot permit Rudolph to keep a museum Lud. Rudolph? Get along with you, I’m not Rudolph ! Rudolph died yesterday! Papa, let’s go away—this is not a . L‘ THE STATUTORY DUEL. 89 Prince and Princess. What ! Lud. Quite suddenly—of—of a cardiac affection. Prince and Princess. Of a cardiac affection? Lud. Yes, a pack-of-cardiac affection. He fought a Statutory Duel with me and lost, and I took over all his engagements— including this imperfectly preserved old lady, to whom he has been engaged for the last three weeks. Princess. Three weeks! But I’ve been engaged to him for the last twenty years! Baroness, Lisa, and Julia. Twenty years! Prince (aside). It's all right, my love—they can't get over that. (Aloud.) He's yours—take him, and hold him as tight as you can | Princess. My own l (Embracing LUDw1G.) Lud. Here's another!—the fourth in four-and-twenty hours! Would anybody else like to marry me? You, ma'am—or you-- anybody! I’m getting used to it! Baroness. But let me tell you, ma'am— Julia. Why, you impudent little hussy Lisa. Oh, here's another—here's another ! (Weeping.) PRINCESS. Poor ladies, I’m very sorry for you all ; but, you see, I’ve a prior claim. Come, away we go—there's not a moment to be lost! CHORUS (as they dance towards exit). Away to the wedding we'll go To summon the charioteers, Though her rival's emotion may flow In the form of impetuous tears— - [At this moment RUDOLPH, ERNEST, and NoTARY appear. All kneel in astonishment. RECITATIVE. Rud., Ern., and Not. Forbear! This may not be Frustrated are your plans ! With paramount decree The Law forbids the banns ! All. The Law forbids the banns! Lud. Not a bit of it! I've revived the Law for another century ! Rud. You didn’t revive it ! You couldn’t revive it! Y. you are an impostor, sir—a tuppenny rogue, sir! Y never were, and in all human probability never will Duke of Pfennig Anything! All. What!!! 90 THE GRAND DUKE. Rud. Never—never, never! (Aside.) Oh, my internal economy! Lud. 'l‘hat’s absurd, you know. I fought the Grand Duke. He drew a King, and Idrew an Ace. He perished in incon- ceivable agonies on the spot. Now, as tha’- settled, we’ll go on with the wedding. _ Rud. It—it isn’t settled. You—you can’t. I—I—(to N0- TARY) Oh, tell him—tell him! I can’t! Not. Well, the fact is, there’s been a little mistake here. On reference to the Act that regulates Statutory Duels, I find it i expressly laid down that Ace shall count invariably as lowest! All. As lowest! Rud. (breathlessly). As lowest—lowest—lowest! So you’re the ghoest—ghoest—ghoestl (Aside) Oh, what is the matter with me inside here ! Ern. Well, Julia, as it seems that the Law hasn’t been revived—and as, consequently, I shall come to life in about three minutes—(consulting his watch)- Julia. My objection falls to the ground. (Resignedlg/.) Very well ! Princess. And am I to understand that I was on the point of marrying a dead man without knowing it? (To RUDOLrH, who revives.) Oh, my love, what a narrow escape I‘ve had! Bud. Oh —you are the Princess of Monte Carlo, and you’ve turned up just in time! Well, you’re an attractive little girl, you know, but you’re as poor as a rat! [They retire up together. Lisa. That’s all very well, but what is to become of me? (To LUDz"IG.% If you’re a dead m111—' [Clock strikes three. Lud. But ’m not. 'i'ime’s up—the Act has expired—I’ve come to life—the parson is still in attendance, and we’ll all be married directly. All. Hurrah! FINALE» Happy couples, lightly treading, Castle chapel will be quite full ! Each shall have a pretty wedding, As, of course, is only rightful, Though the bride be fair or frightful. Contradiction little dreading, This will be a day delightful—- Each shall have :1 pretty wedding ! Such a iretty, pretty wedding ! uch a pretty wedding ! [All dance of to get married as the curtain falls. HIS EXCELLENCY. A COMIC OPERA. WRITTEN BY W. S. GILBERT, COMPOSED BY OSMOND CARR. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. THE PRINCE REGENT, disguised as Nils Egilsson, a Strolling Player, GEORGE GRIFFENFELD, Governor of Elsinore, ERLING SYKKE, a Young Sculptor. DR. ToRTENssEN, a Young Physician. MATs MUNCK, Syndic of Elsinore. CoRPoRAL HARoLD, of the King's Hussars, A SENTRY. - - - - FIRST OFFICER. SECOND OFFICER. CHRISTINA, a Ballad singer. NANNA ) THoRA § - DAME HECLA CorTLANDT, a Lady of Property. BLANCA, a Vivandière, ELSA, a Peasant Girl. Griffenfeld's Daughters. ACT I. MARKET PLACE OF ELSINORE. ACT II. COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE, DATE–1801, HIS EXCELLENCY, ACT I. SCENE.—Market place of Elsinore. The townspeople (led by MATs MUNOK, the Syndic) are assembled to congratulute ERLING SYKKE on the completion of the statue of the Prince Regent of Denmark, which occupies the centre of the stage. Colours flying, bells ringing, cannon firing, and general symptoms of rejoicing. OPENING CHORUs. Set the merry bunting flying, Fire the cannon-ring the bells- Our great townsman glorifying, Who with sculptor's skill undying, All competitors excels. He, with his artistic spells, So the stubborn marble quells, That, to all intents elastic, It assumes, in manner plastic, Shapes heroic-shapes fantastic, As his mighty will compels ! Mats Munck. Chosen from his fellow creatures All. By our King—’twas wisely done— To perpetuate the features Of the Regent Prince, his son— Then created, by a penmark, . At our gracious King's decree, Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee ! Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee' Leisure take—festina lente— You have time before you, plenty, When at only two-and-twenty, (Nemine dissentiente) You're created with a penmark, Sculptor to the Court of Denmark- Sculptor to the Court of Denmark And the Royal Familee 111s EXC_ELLEN_CY. 95 And the glory of knightly yr-ide': No blemish, orfault, or flaw, But perfect in all is he, I’ve learnt, in fine, What a god divine A chivalrous knight may be. "As gentle as lover’s lay, Or the dawn of a bright May-day, Yet cast iu_the knightly mould Of the glorious days of old- My eyes are opened ; at last I see What he who would win my heart must be: Why look at the men we've known- Their mouths will open and close- They’ve ears likewise, And a couple of eyes, And the usual nubbly nose ; Each has a head of his own, They've bodies, and legs, and feet—- l’m bound to admit That in every whit — The catalogue’s quite complete :- But where is the godlike grace That lights that marvellous face? Where 18 the brow serene? Where is the lordly mien? Ah, dullards and dolts are all I’ve known, Compared with that marvellous, matchless stone ! [Emit CEnISTmA. Erl. That’s a typical instance of feminine rversity—doesn’t fall in love with me, which would be rationa enough, but with the senseless inanimate work of my hands! My dear fellow (addressing statue), I little thought, when I cut you out, that in course of time you’d return the compliment! Enter TORTENSSEN. Tor. Erling, congratulate me! I’ve just received my patent of appointment as Personal Physician to His Majesty King Christian. I have let my house, sold my practice, and I start for Copenhagen this day week! ' Erl. My dear friend,I’m overjoyed. I'm in daily expectation of a Royal command to take up my office as Sculptor Extra- ordinary to the Royal Family-—and we’ll travel together. Of course you’ve heard that ‘I’ve been promised a Countship ? Tor. And I am to be created a Baron! Erl. You don’t say so! To think that we two, who have toiled in obscurity from boyhood for a bare subsistence, should 96 HIS EXCELLEZVCY. both be raised at the same moment to such social and pro» fessional distinction! Tor. It seems incredible! It can’t be—but, no-—that’s out of the question. Erl. What can’t be ‘.7 _ Tor. It can’t be one of Governor Griffenfeld’s practical jokes ? Erl. My dear fellow, don’t suggest such a thing. It would be too cruel—why, it would be our ruin! Tor. But he is cruel. When a scheme for a practical joke enters his head he sticks at nothing in its accomplishment. Why, he has caused the very soldiers of the garrison-war- worn veterans as they are—to be drilled as ballet-girls, and to perform all their evolutions to dance steps, simply in order to make them ridiculous in the eyes of the girls they’re engaged to! Erl. He’s a malicious devil enough, but he would hardly venture to play pranks in the name of his Sovereign. Besides, there’s the statue—a commission from the King. Tor. True. By the way, I suppose it is a commission froI the King? That’s not one of his Excellency’s practical jokes ? ' Erl. Nonsense! Now, does that look like a practical joke? Why, I’m to get ten thousand rix-dollars for it! Now, as you know, I love his daughter Nanna devotedly, and she has hitherto treated me with contempt, because, as she says, I’m a mere tuppenny-halfpenny stone-cutter. Of course, that’s only her humorous way of putting it. Tor. And I adore 'l‘hora, who has always treated my pre- tensions with derision, because, as she says, I’m only a pitiful pill-roller. That’s her epigrammatic way of expressing it. Erl. But now that our positions are so immensely improved, surely we might renew our proposals with every prospect of success! Tor. The very idea that occurred to me ! My incomparable 'l‘hora—- Erl. Your what! _ Tor. My incomparable Thora-—— ‘ Erl. Ah—exactly! But—don’t think me inquisitive—why don’t you think N anna _incomparable ? Tor. Why, my dear fellow, if for no other reason, because you do. ' - Erl. What an obstinate dog you must be to refuse to consider her the divinest creature in the world, because I do! _ And you call yourself my friend! ' Tor. Well, but really ' Erl. It’s most unjust to the poor girl. . 111$ EXCELLE./VCY. 97 Tor. But if I loved N anna you’d call me out. Erl. What, you—call you out ? Call out my old friend because he was of the same way of thinking as myself ?—nol Tor. But suppose I were successful? Erl. Ah, but you wouldn’t be. That is a contingency that we need not consider. Now do give up Thora and love N anna —do, to oblige me. ' To/r. Do you want everybody to love Nauna? Erl. Of course I do. What I want is that all the world shall go mad over her, and that I shall be triumphant. Surely that’s an intelligible position! Now mark :— SONG.—ERLING. When I bestow my bosou1’s store, No room for doubt ' Must I descry: All men must love whom I adore, Or we fall out, All men and I. ' Though poor their chance and slight their hope Who with my suit presume to cope, ' Yet must all men to gain her try, Or we fall out, all men and I. When I am wed I’ll hold them cheap IVho sing and shout With joyous cry. At such a time all men must weep, Or we fall out, All men and I. As all men must my rivals be, When Nanna gives her hand to me All men must broken-hearted, sigh, Or we fall out, all men and 1. If I my lady vainly woe, And, her without, I pine and die, Mankind at large must perish, too, Or we fall out, Mankind and I. Who lives when I find life too long Would seem to say that I am wrong. When I expire all men must die, Or we fall out, all men and I ! Enter N ANNA and TEonA. NANNA (pretending not to see Ermmo and TouTEsssrm). And they’re so clever, said I—such talented young men—so extraordinarily good-looking, to0—and so kind to their poor old mothers! 1v. H 98 HIS EXCELLEIVCY. TnoEA. And now that they’re going to be raised to the peerage they’ll have nothing to say to a couple of middle-class nobodies like us! (Sud/ienly.) Oh my goodness, here they are ! Oh what have I said! DUET.—NANNA and THonA. Thom. Oh my goodness, here’s the nobility! Nanna. Gracious me, how very embarrassing! Thom. We’re such every day gentility—- Bless me, how exceedingly harassing‘! Nanna. Prey, you pardon us ! Don't be hard on us ! Thom. Most confusing your regard on us ! Both. Never was I so dazed, I think! Into the ground I’d like to sink ! Thom. Can't you see they’re high society ? Norma, Don’t they sneer like people of quality? There. If we seem to lack propriety, Pray forgive our silly frivolity ! Nanna. Treat with charity Our vulgarity- Thora. ’Twixt us there's so much disparity Both. Very superior persons, you ! Gracious goodness, what shall we do? Erl. Then, Miss Nanna, you’ve heard of our good fortune? Nanna. Indeed I have! I’m quite uncomfortable in the presence of such grandees! Thom. We’re so unaccustomed to aristocratic circles that really we hardly know how we ought to address you! Tor. Oh, we haven’t been ennobled yet. Thom. Haven’t you really ? Come, that makes conversation easier. Still, a Personal Physician to the King—— Nanna. And a Sculptor Extraordinary to the Royal Family— Thera. And we’re only the daughters of an obscure provincial Governor ! Oh, really I think we’d better go. It’s so much wiser to keep to one’, own rank in life ! Erl. Miss Nanna, pray be reassured ; we have no desire to presume on our promotion. Indeed, you overrate our im- portance. Thora. It seems impossible. I really think we’d better go. Tor. No, don’t do that. Be quite unembarrassed—entirely at your crse, and try to imagine that we are nobody in particular. Thora. Oh, but that demands a tremendous effort of the imagination. Still, I’ll try (tries). Tor. Have you got it? Them. Not yet, but I won’t be beaten. I’ll try again (tries- again). . 111s EXCELLE./VCY. ' 99 Nanna (trying). Oh, I shall never do it! Did you say nobody in particular ? . Erl. Just a couple of mere everyday, commonplace profes- sional men. Nanna. Well, it can’t be done——that’s all! It’s ridiculous . to expect it. _ Erl. (aside). Now’s my time, I think! (Aloud.) Miss N arms, as you know, we have both loved you" and your sister—- and we’ve often told you so, and you snubbed us, and we deserved it. But now that we are well off, and Court personages, and going to be ennobled, we venture to-—to Nanna. Not to offer us your hands. N0—don’t say that- don’t turn our heads and give us ideas above our station ! Thom. Oh! (crying out). Oh, I’ve got an idea above my station! Oh, it’s all the way up there, ever so high ! [Pointing up. . The 0thers (looking up). Where? Where? Thom. Bal-loon ! Ha! ha! ha! Erl. I do believe you are laughing at us ! Thom (to N ANNA). Oh, aren’t the nobility shrewd ? Nanna. And isn’t the aristocracy quick at grasping a situation ? Thom. But come, we’ll be serious. Are you really in earnest when you make us this intoxicating offer? Tor. Absolutely. Erl. More serious than we ever were in our lives. lfianna. Very good, that’s business, and I’ll tell you what we do. QUAR'1‘ETT.—NANNA, Tirons, Enuxo, and TonTnEssnu. Nanna. If all is as you say— If honour and wealth and glory Of every sort Are your’s— Thom. In short, ' If you’re not telling a story-— Namza. If you are 11 Count some day- Thora. A Baron if you’re created— . And all turns out Beyond all doubt Precisely as you’ve stated—- Nanna. Court sculptor and a peer, With oversomuch a year, Precisely as you’ve stated— Thom. Physician to the King With honours and everything, Precisely as you've_stated— roo ' 111$ EXCELLENCE Nmma and Thora. Then I will be your brlde-- Ez-l. and Tor. Oh joy! Nanna and Thora. And I your bride will be ! Erl. and T0z". Then let us make merry. It’s evident, very, That day we soon shall see- Nanna and T/Lora. When you are qualified— Ev-l. and Tor. Oh joy ! Namla and Thom. To marry you we agree ! Erl. and T0z". Oh happy decision ! Oh vision Elysian ! That day we soon shall see! Erl. Compared with our own ' All others are iukiness ! Tor. They are, alone, ' Two visions of pinkiness ! Erl. Pinkiness, veiled With ivory pellicle— T0z". Everywhere hailed As simply angelica! ! Nanna. That isn’t true, Ridiculous chatterer ! Thom. G0 along, do, Unscrupulous flatterer ! Nanna. Only a sweet Individuality ! Thom. Dainty and neat, But merely mortality ! Erl. and Tor. Merely mortality? Merely mortality? With such a bewitehing individuality? Namm and Thom. Merely two pretty young ladies of quality, Piquante and pleasant»—but merely mortality ! All. Then{y§u } will be my bride—oh joy! Ana{ ;o§°;§,} bride will be! 810. [Dance and emeunt Emma and ToETENssrm. Nanna. Oh, Thora! (la,ug72ing.) Thom. Oh, Nanna! (laughrk'ng.) Nanna. They believe it all ! Thom. Every word! Nan’na. What geese! Thom. Personal Physician to the King! Nanna. Sculptor Extraordinary to the Royal Family! Thom. It serves them right for presuming to aspire to our affections. It was papa’s idea! Oh, it’s a grand thing to have a father who will condescend to play practical jokes on the very meanest rather than allow the family dignity to be insulted. Namza. Dear papa! He has such humour! Thom. So much invention! I02 HIS EXCELLENCY. Blan. It’s a little unkind to complain of our laughing at you, for you know we can’t help it—from 10 to 2. Elsa. We can none of us help it—you’re all so ridiculous! Her. I think my betrothed wife might sympathize with the absurdity of my position. I think all our betrothed wives might sympathize with the absurdity of all our positions. Elsa. We sympathize with you as hard as we can, after 2. We can’t do it before 2, because we’re laughing all the time. Blan. From 2 to 10 you’re men, and we’re engaged to you. From 10 to 2 you’re hoppedegigs, and it’s off. Elsa. That exactly describes it. Her. Yes, but at that rate we shall never get any forrarder. Besides, who knows what may happen from 10 to 2? You might get engaged to somebody else—to the Sergeant-Major, for instance—he's always fooling around you. Blan. Well, of course we don’t want to waste our mornings; but even if I were engaged to him from 10 to 2, I should always be true to you from 2 to 10. Herr. lt’s not enough. It’s incomplete. Elsa. Take care, the Governor’z coming. Har. Oh, confound it—off we go again! . [Soldiers resume dancing. Enter GovERNoE GurrrENrELn. He has a pound of butter in his hand. Grif. (to Soldiers). Ah, my fine fellows, still at it? Got your second wind? That’s right—capital exercise! Nothing like it. Here, you can ezt this—I’ve done with it. (Giving butter to HAROLD.) The Syndic went down like a shot! Har. (dancing). I beg your Excellency’s pardon, but-—may we halt for a moment? We’ve danced for nearly three miles up—hill, and it’s a hot day, and we’re feeling a little faint. Grif. Always craving for some unreasonable indulgence! Selfish dogs, all of you! Well, you may halt for five minutes. Har. Thank you very much. (To Soldiers.) Selfish dogs— Halt! (They halt.) Grif. Anything else? Har. Well, I have a request to make. The fact is, the troops do feel the humiliation of being drilled like ballet-girls. Grif. Bless my heart, you surprise me! Don’t they like ballet-girls ? Har. Oh, they’re very fond of ballet-girls, but they don’t want to be ballet-girls, because when you are a ballet-girl, you don’t seem to care so much about ballet-girls as you do when—when you’re something quite different. HIS EXCELLENCY. 103 Grif. But don’t your men see how much amusement they create? Can’t they see that all the girls are laughing at them? Have they no sense of humour? Har. Oh, they’ve a distinct sense of humour; but to enjoy this sort of thing completely you want to see it from a distance. You see it from a distance, and it ought to be devilish funny; but we are close to it—in "fact, we are it—and when you are it, you don’t seem to "care so much about it, as you do when—when you are something quite different. The fact is, the point of a . joke is like the point of a needle—hold the needle sideways and it’s plain enough, but when it is directed straight at you—well, it’s not always very easy to see the point of it. Grif. Nonsense! I can see a joke plain enough even when I’m its victim. Take my unfortunate love aflair— — Har. Ah, ridiculous business that! [Soldiers laugh. Grff. No comments, sir! Har. (to Soldiers). N 0 comments, gentlemen! Grif. Take my unfortunate love affair. The late Governor, when I was only his deputy, was about to be married to an elderly lady of a singularly explosive disposition. They simply doted on each other. N ow when you see two old donkeys simply doting on each other, your course is obvious—you set to work He.. To wheedle the old lady——- Grif. Away from the old gentleman. Har. Ha! ha! you little rogue! [llARoLD digs GRIFFENFELD in the ribs. Gri_'/'. Don’t do that, sir! Har. (to Soldiers). Don't do that, gentlemen! Gri_'f. Well, after some respectful attentions, she accepted 1110 in this letter (producing a letter) in which she stipulated that the matter should be kept a profound secret until an excuse could be found for sending the old gentleman about his business. But, as luck would have it, the Governor died suddenly and 1 Fucceeded him, before I had time to explain that it was only my un—- Har. and Soldiers. Ha! ha! (Suddenly serious)—I beg your pardon—I don’t know what they’re laughing at. Grif. And so there I was—regularly trapped into a ridiculous engagement, which I can’t for the life of me see my way out of. The situation is most unpleasant—most unpleasant. But do you suppose I don’t see the fun of it? Why, I can’t think of it without going into convulsions! Ha! ha! Her. and Soldiers. Ha! ha! ha! (?ri_'}". She’s sixty! . 104 HIS EXCELLE/VCY. He-. and Soldiers. Ha! ha! ha! Grif. Wears a wig! He.. and Soldiers. Ha! ha! ha! ‘Grif. Don’t overdo it, sir! Har. Don’t overdo it, gentlemen ! Gri/'. That’s quite enough. It’s a very good joke, but not as good a joke as all that. Impudent puppies !e—be off with you. Har. (to Soldiers). lmpudent puppies l—inwards turn -- Chassez ! [Harold and soldiers dance of, followed by girls laugh- ing and chattering. Grif. Upon my word, there’s no such thing as gratitude. I do all I can to make my soldiers amusing—I place them in all kinds of ridiculous situations—I make them a source of enter- tainment to a whole township of attractive girls, and instead of being pleased and grateful for the attention, they growl like so many sore-eared bears! Enter Dame CorrTLzmoT skittishly, with a folded note in her hand. Dame. Why, here’s my little man after all! I’ve been looking for him everywhere. Why does he hide himself away from his loving Hecla? Gri/'. Eh? Oh, it’s you, is it? neck.) Don’t do that+you rumple me. there ? ' Dame. It’s a note, you jealous boy! Not for you—oh dear no! It’s a pretty little pink and white billet dome addressed to a pretty little pink and white gentleman, begging him to make an appointment to meet a pretty little pink and white lady, all alone! That’s me ! N ow what do you think of that? Grif. Well, if you ask me, 1 don’t think he’ll come. Dame. Oh yes, he will ! He’ll come fast enough. there—it’s cruel to keep my pet in suspense—— Grif. God bless me, you don’t suppose 1 care whom you meet! Dame (suddenly furious). What's that? Once more ! Come, out with it! Grif. (alarmed). I say that I’ve such perfect confidence in your moral character that I don’t trouble myself to inquire whom you make appointments with. Dame (relieved). Oh, was that all ? But you shouldn’t upset me, George. Within this fragile bod two tremendous powers are in perpetual antagonism— a Diabolical Temper and an Iron (She puts her arm round his What have you get But Say that again ! I06 HIS EXCELLEZVCY. Grif (earnestly). Two to one on the Will ! Two to one on the Will! Dame. Wins easy, George! It’s all right again. Go on, dear. Gm:/'. No, but really now, what would you say if you found out, quite unexpectedly, that I wasn’t in earnest, and that I only proposed to you because—because somebody bet me I wouldn’t? Dame (working herself up). Bet you you wouldn’t—bet you you wouldn’t ! What would I do—what would I do- what would I do ? Grff. Now don’t go on like that! It’s most unpleasant. 1 don’t think you know how creepy you are when you do that. Oh, lord, she’s off again! DUET.—GovEnNon and DAME ConrLANDr. Dame. Now what would I do if you proved untrue, and the suit you pressed were an idle jest, and the conjugal yoke a brainless joke, and if marry your darling you eouldn’t? Grif. Yes, what would you do if 1 proved untrue,’ And if marry my darling I couldn't? Dame. What would I say if you owned some day that, a wager to win, you had taken me in, and the fact disclosed that you just proposed because somebody bet you you wouldn’t ? Gri/'. If I owned some day that I sung that lay, Because somebody bet me I wouldn’t? Dame. Why, the trembling rock from an earthquake’s shock, and the ocean’s roar on the rock-bound shore, and the hell-babe’s scream were a peaceful dream, to the terrible broth of my brewing ; The tiger’s guash, and the cut-throat’s gash, and the foeman’s clash, and the thunder-crash of eternal smash were unmeaniug trash, compared with my hullaballooing ! ENSEMnLE. Govnrmoa (aszde) . DAns. It might, perhaps, be rather rash Take care, you’ll find it rather rash The truth upon her mind to flash My matrimonial hopes to dash, If an earthquakes shock were idle For an earthquake’s shock were trash idle trash Compared with her hulla- Compared with my hulla- ballooing ! ballooing ! Dame. Like grey screech—0wl (that hideous fowl) in a midnight cowl I'd slink and prowl till a horrible howl and a tiger's growl had told the world I’d found you ! With object fell and a yelp and yell, on Vengeance’ wing at my foe I’d spring, and 1" ace to face in a close embrace I'd wind my arms around you ! Your heart 1’d tear from its loathsome lair--I’d pluck out your e ‘es, and your tongue likewise—and limb from limb, with a grow ing grim, I'd rend him who pooh poohs me ! . HIS EXCELLENCY. ‘ I07 (Recovering herself.) Excuse me, please—when people tease, by slow degrees I kick up a breeze which you can’t appease—it's quite 8. disense—I’ll go and lie down-—excuse me ! [Emit DAME CorvTLANDT. Gri/'. This is getting a little too hot to be pleasant. But this letter to the Syndic is simply providential. It’s exactly what I wanted to make my innocent little plot complete (tears it up). Now where are those two girls of mine? They ought to be back by this time. (Enter NAmu and THORA.) Oh, here you are! Well, have you seen the Syndic? Nanna. Yes, and we’ve carried out all your instructions. Gri/I Good girls. Nanna. We told him that we had the best possible reason to know that the wealthy old lady was particularly well disposed towards him, and that a declaration from him would receive polite and immediate attention. Thom. So the silly old gentleman went off his head with joy —did extraordinary things with the office-stool, and at once wrote his declaration, and gave to us to deliver (produces it). Here it is. Grif. Thank you (giving her the letter which he formerly received from DAME CORTLANDT). The old lady's reply. Thom. What, already ? Nanna. Wonderful invention, steam ! Grif. Hush! (Aside to them.) It’s the very letter in which she accepted me under seal of secrecy, when I was only Deputy Governor! Nanna. Oh, you sly old papal Grif. Ha! ha ha! It will do for him just as well as it did for me. And it will make him so happy! Tnro.iGmri-'1~znrni’n, NAuru, and THorm. All. Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes! What keen enjoyment springs From cheap and simple things ! What deep delight from sources trite inventive humour coaxes, That pain and trouble brew For every one but you ! Grif. Gunpowder placed inside its waist improves 11 mild Huvanah, Its unexpected flash Bums eyebrows and moustache. Nu n rm. When people dine no kind of wine beats ipocaciianlia, But common-sense suggests You keep it for your gHosts-— I08 ' HIS EXCELLE/VC Y. T/L07‘(l- Then naught annoys the organ boys like throwing rod-hot _ coppers, _ ll/anna. And much amusement hides _ In common butter-slides : Grgf. And stringy snares across the stairs cause unexpected croppers. T hora.. Coal scuttles, recollect, Produce the same efiect. Grif. A man possessed Of common-sense Need not invest At great expense- Namza. It does not call For pocket deep, T hora. These jokes are all Extremely cheap. All. If you commence with eighteenpcnce—it's all you'll have to pay; You may command a pleasant and a most instructive day. Grijl A good spring gun breeds endless fun, and makes men jump like rockets— T hora. And turnip-heads on posts Make very decent ghosts. _ Grif. Then hornets sting like anything, when placed in waistcoat pockets-— Narzna. Burnt cork and walnut juice Are not without their use. Grif. No fun compares with easy chairs whose seats are stul¥ed with needles-— T hora. Live shrimps their patience tax When put down people’s backs— Grif. Surprising, too, what one can do with a pint of fat black- beetles-— Nanna. And treacle on .1 chair Will make a Quaker swear! Thom. Then sharp tin tacks And pocket squirts- Gr_i/'. And cobbler's wax _ For ladies’ skirts— — Nanrza. And slimy slugs On bedroom floors- Grif. And water jugs On open doors- All. Prepared with these cheap properties, amusing tricks to play, Upon :1. friend a man may spend a most delightful day! [Emeunt. Enter two 0fiicers, who look cautiously round. 1st 017'. Is the coast clear ? 2nd 0ff. Quite—there’s no one in sight. [First 0fiicer beckons ofl‘. Enter the REGENT dressed ' picturesquely as a tattered vagabond, Both Oflicers bow deferenttally, ' HIS EXCELLENC Y. 109 Reg. Who were those who left as you arrived ? 1st 0.. The Governor Griffenfeld, your Royal Highness, and his two daughters. Reg. The fellow whose disgraceful practical jokes are the subject of such general complaint ? 2nd 0f. The same, sir. Reg. Well, the expostulations of the townspeople have reached us in shoals, and we are resolved to judge for ourselves as to their truth or falsehood. For the purpose of our present disguise, we are Nils Egilsson-—a strolling player—a vagabond—and as such you may describe me if any question as to my identity should arise. You can leave me now, but hold yourselves in readiness in case of emergency. lst Of. As your Royal Highness pleases. [0fiicers bow and emeunt. Reg. Whom have we here? (looking at statue). Oho!' my princely self, eh? Upon my word, fairly good for a provincial town. In truth, a very public-spirited thing to have done. Governor Griffenfeld must have inspired this—upon my word, my heart softens towards the little scoundrel. But no—on second thoughts, he would have commissioned a caricature. (Enter CnnISTmA with her guitar.) Who is this? A dainty maiden indeed! Chris. (not seeing him). It is a strange fascination that draws me hither! I have yet three principal streets, two squares, and the Castle Green to sing to—and they are all sure pay.—(Puts down her guitar.) Then how comes it that I find myself, every half hour, instinctively drifting towards the Market-place. It is not market-day, and there’s nobody here except—(looking at statue) and if I sing to him he does not hear me, and if I talk to him I must needs talk for two. As thus: Good -morrow, my Lord. “Ah, Christina—hast thoU. done well to-day? ” But indifferent well, my lord Prince, for I have taken naught and given all! “That were idly done, Christina. What hast thou given, and to,whom ? ” My heart, my lord Prince, and to your Highness, for lo0k you, I love you passing well—even I-, who never loved a living man! “ Some- what unmaidenly, this avowal—is it not, Christina?” It may seem so, my lord. “Thou shouldst have waited until I gave some sign.” I might have waited long, my lord, for your Highness is strangely reticent; and I might have peaked, pined, dwindled, drooped, and died in the waiting. “That were pitiful indeed, Christina.” I thank your lordship. Will you hear a poor ballad, my lord? “If it be fairly sung, Christina, and not_ too long.” It is not long, my lord, and I no HIS EXCELLENCY. will sing it with all my poor skill, so it shall please you. “ Well, tune up, Christina—but I have no small change.” I thank your Highness; I sing to you, not for your money, but for your love. '1‘he song runneth thus ;—(sees REGENT, who comes forward, qgfering her the guitar) Oh, sir! Chris. Ah! [Looks at statue, then at REGENT, and shows signs of terror. Reg. Why, what is amiss with thee? Chris. Sir, I am frightened! I thought at first—but I am a silly fool! I ask your pardon; but—you are so strangely like the Regent’s statue, that, for the moment, I—0h, who are you? Reg. I am Nils Egilsson-—a strolling player-a flotsam and jetsam on the world’s tide—tossed hither and thither as the wild waves will; but come good, come ill, always at the service of all pretty maids who need my offices. Chris. Then-—you are not a prince? Reg. Not a prince? Oh, but I am a prince—very often! Every prince in turn from Nebuchadnezzar down to Louis the Sixteenth, when an engagement offers. A trifle out of repair just now, but even your theatrical princes have their vicissitudes, and Elsinore is not stage-struck. But times may mend, and who knows but that I shall yet play Hamlet on his native battlements ? _ Chris. Still, a real Prince-— Reg. Is not to be envied, take my word for it. Why, the very fact that he can’t show his nose out of doors without an everlasting accompaniment of National Anthem is enough to make him turn Revolutionist, and cry aloud for his own down- fall ! SoEc. .-REGENT. A King, though he's pestered with cares, Though, no doubt, he can often trepan them ; But one comes in a shape he can never escape- The implacable National Anthem ! Though for quiet and rest he may yearn, It pursues him at every turn—- No chance of forsaking Its rococo numbers ; They haunt him when waking-- They poison his slumbers ! Like the Banbury Lady, whom every one knows, He's cursed with its music wherever he goes ! Though its words but imperfectly rhyme, And the devil himself couldn't scan them, With composure polite he endures day and night That illiterate National Anthem ! HIS EXCELLENCY. 111 It serves a good purpose I own : Its strains are devout and impressive- ' Its heartstirring notes raise a lump in our throats As we burn with devotion excessive : But the King, who's been bored by that song From his cradle-—each day—all day long- Who’s heard it loud-shouted By throats operatic, And loyally spouted By courtiers emphatic- By soldier—by sailor—by drum and by fife—- Small blame if he thinks it the plague of his life ! While his subjects sing loudly and long, Their King—who would willingly ban the'.m— Sits, worr disguising, anathematizing That hogie, the National Anthem ! Chris. It is pleasant to know that we are of kindred lot, for if you are a strolling player, why I am but a poor ballad-singer, and our callings have much in common. I am at my ease now, but at first—you will laugh at me, I know—I almost thought I was speaking to the Regent himself l Reg. I have been given to understand that there is a certain resemblance. Chris. It is marvellous! Do you know his Highness, sir? [Anaoiously. Reg. Well, I can scarcely say. We have never met, face to face. Chris. (disappointed). Then you do not know him. Reg. Very good—then I do not know him: but—I know his tailor. Chris. His tailor? Reg. Yes. I frequently see his tailor, and his tailor tells me, in strictest confidence, that (impressively) his Highness is at least three inches more round the waist than he is here represented to be! So be prepared for a disappointment! Chris. (laughing). Why, sir, I believe there is nothing in this wide world that concerns me less than the measure of his Highness’s waist! Such a trifle weighs but little with me. Reg. (aside). It weighs a good deal with me! (Aloud.) And do you pass much time in the society of his Highness’s elfigy? Chris. Why, in truth, much more than is prudent. Reg. Oh, he won’t hurt you—I should say that you were quite safe with him. But beware of the Regent himself, for men say that he is a terrible Turk! Chris. The Regent, sir, is nought to me. Yet, to speak truly, I am loth to believe that there can be aught but good in one whom that statue so strongly resemblesl 112 HIS EXCELLEIVCY. Reg. Then—I may take it that you do not believe there is much of evil in me? ' Chris. (confused). Why, sir—in truth—nay, this is scarcely fair dealing. I spake not of yourself, but of the Regent. Reg. And I so strongly resemble him! Chris. I think, sir, I will go. Reg. Nay, be not angry with me for drawing so pleasant a conclusion from premisses of your own making! (Tenderly.) I would fain hope that you are not angry with me. Chris. Nay, sir, I am not angry. I spake foolishly, and I am well served. But I have tarried too long; I have to go to the Castle Green—I am to sing there. Reg. Why, I am likewise bound thither, for I have to see the Governor. (Tendcrly.) Who knows but that we may meet again! Chris. (moved). It is very like. (Recovering herself.) But the day is speeding, and I have to sing for my supper. So fare you well, Master ! Reg. Nils Egilsson. (Kissing her hdnd.) Chris. (dreamily). Nils Egilsson: I shall not forget that name, be very sure! [Emit CnnISTINA. Reg. I/Vell, as a bachelor heir-apparent, I've had a tolerably comprehensive experience of young ladies; but of all the maids I ever met, this is the fairest, the most winning, and the most original! What a refreshing experience! Its like the breath of the hay-field after a season of hot ball-rooms ! We shall meet again, my pretty ballad-singer, unless I greatly err. And now to encounter this precious Governor. . Enter GovEREoa GnrrraErELn. Grrf. The Syndic has received his charmer’s letter, and he’s on the tip-toe of expectation and delight. I shall get rid of her ——I shall get rid of her! Reg. Not knowing the lady, but speaking on general principles, I should say that you couldn’t do better. Grrf. Hallo, sir, who are you who presume to convert into a duologue that which was intended for a soliloquy ? Reg. I’m Nils Egilss0n—strolling player—sadJy out of repair, and greatly in need of a handsome salary, paid weekly in advance. Gri/'. A professional rogue, eh? Reg. Well—a technical rogue—much as a lawyer is a technical gentleman—that is to say, by Act of Parliament. Grzf. You pipe to a sharp note, sir. We keep a cage for ms EXCELLENCE 113 such gaol-birds as you. (Aside-) Where have I seen this fellow’s face ? Reg. Well, I think I sing best behind bars. Grif. (aside). Where have I seen this fell0w’s face? Reg. Surely you’re not the Governor? Grif. Yes, sir, I am the Governor of this Province. Reg. A thousand pardons! I took you for the borough con- stable. A hasty conclusion based upon a commendable absence of that superficial polish which the vulgar are but too apt to associate with the conception of a gentleman. The Governor! (Bowing) A worshipfnl gentleman, I’ll be sworn, appearances notwithstanding. A thousand pardons! . Grif. (who, during this speech, has been studying the RnGF.NT’s face). I have it! It’s the statue! Why, he’s marvellously like it! (Aloud) Hark ye, sirrah! you are an actor, you say ? Reg. A poor actor. Grif. Ready at a moment’s notice to play any part that may be entrusted to you ? Kings, princes, and so forth ? Reg. Why, I’m famous for my kings. There’-, an air of aristocratic impudenoe about me—you may have remarked it—- which is eminently suited to your monarchs of genteel comedy. My tyrants, too, are much admired. “ What, bearded to our face, and by a very boy? The moat is dry—load him with chains, and stifle him in its reeking mud! Ha! ha! I will be obeyed l”. ' Grif. Yes—that’s not good, you know. Rather amateurish, I should say. Played a long engagement in the Theatre Royal Back Drawing Room, I should imagine. By the way, have you ever heard it remarked that you bear a close resemblance to a very dignified personage ? Reg. Eh? Oh, you mean the man who mends boots on the quay. That’s very_like1y—he’s my aunt. Grif. The man who mends fiddlesticks! Reg. I don’t think I know him. Gri/'. No, sir—not to the man who mends boots—to no less a person than the Prince Regent of Denmark. Reg. The Prince Regent? Grif. There he is. He’s a common-looking fellow, and you are singularly like him. [Pointing to statue. Reg. You flatter me, I’m sure (looking at statue). Well, some fellows have the deuce’s own luck. Here is a man—the heir to a throne—caressed, courted, and flattered by the highest in the land—pampered with every luxurythat the ingenuity of the devil or man can devise—and, hang me ! if, in addition to Iv. 1 H4 _ HIS HIXCELLEZVCY. all this, he isn’t exactly like me! It’s enough to turn the fellow’s head! Grt_'f. He’s an ugly fellow, sir, and so are you. Therein lies the chief resemblance. N ow attend to me. If you will consent to personate His Highness for twenty-four hours, acting exactly as I shall prescribe to you, you shall have—well, you shall have five golden Freidrichs ! Reg. Five golden Freidrichs l Grif. Then you consent? Reg. Consent? What is there that I wouldn’t consent to for five golden Freidrichs? But my dress—it’s a convenient outfit for summer weather; but not, I should say, what the Regent of Denmark would wear—except, perhaps, in the bosom of his family after the cares of State are over for the day. Grtf. I've provided for that. The sculptor of that statue borrowed a left-off suit of the Regent’s from His Higbness’s valet-—for artistic purposes. It's now at the Castle, packed up, ready to be returned. I should say it would fit you to a nicety. Reg. (aside). I’ve not the least doubt of it. When am I to begin ? Grif To-morrow morning. It'll be great fun! Reg. It will be a tremendous joke. Gm)‘. So original! With such possibilities! Fancy—a sham Regent dispensing sham wealth and sham honours untold on all my sham friends-—and then their disappointment when they discover that it’s only my fun ! Reg. Ha! ha! l’m longing to begin! [During the last few lines CHRISTINA has entered. She listens, concealed behind statue. DUsT.—RnGnr»zT and GRIFFENFELD. Reg. I've grasped your scheme, if I may say as much without in— trusion : As Regent-Prince I must ennoble all without exclusion, And scatter honours all around in liberal profusion— Then you’ll step in and with_a word, dispel the fond illusion l G2-3'/. Then l’ll ste in— Reg. hen you'll step in-— Grif. ’ And with a word-— Reg. And with 0. word» Then you’ll step in and, with a word, dispel the fond illusion l Gz-if. (ercitedly). Exactly so ! exactly so ! exactly so! exactly so! For understand what I require— Give every man his heart’s desire, Then lfll explain the ins and out—- In half an hour or thereabouts ! Both. Then { ygllllu } explain the ins and outs- In half an hour or thereabouts ! AIS EXCELLENCY, 115 Reg. G #. Both, Chris. Reg. Chris. He is t ENSEMBLE. Oh, human joy at best is brief- Alas, too soon it's turned to grief! So it's our duty, you'll allow, Our fellow creatures to endow With happiness complete and vast— Although that happiness may last— Although that happiness may last- But half an hour or thereabouts | But half an hour- But half an hour— - But half an hour or thereabouts! [Exit GRIFFENFELD. (coming forward from behind statue). I overheard | You did? Confusion | But not a word Of this delusion- No single phrase- No faint suggestion- To haply raise A doubt or question | If fault or blunder visible I make in this experiment- Control your muscles risible, And check untimely merriment. Address me most respectfully- Regard with silent shyness me- With eyes cast down subjectively;— And mind you “Royal Highness” me ! Now don't forget—now don't forget, Be sure you “Royal Highness” me! With all devotion beautiful, I'll favour your expedient- I'll be your very dutiful— I'll be your most obedient— You'll find me all docility, You miracle of slyness, you! I'll curtsey with humility, And always “Royal Highness” you! I won't forget—I won't forget— I'll always “Royal Highness” you! ENSEMBLE. Oh, never was seen Such a pearl of a Prince, with { his } dignified mien my onvince: I am J. sure to con U6 HIS EXCELLENCE In } gracious address here is Royalty shown—- And a baby could guess Ilifins the heir to a throne! Ha! ha! ha! ha!»-Ha! ha! ha! ha! Oh it baby could guess he’s the heir to a throne ! [Emit in opposite directions. " Enter the SYumc, with DAMs CoETLANDT’s letter in his hand. Syn. It’s 'a singular thing, but I never yet proposed to a very unattractive old lady without being immediately accepted. Now here is an unattractive old lady—abont to be married to no less a personage than the Governor of this Province, and I have only to beckon to her, and down comes the confiding old dove with no further thought about the Governor, except to stipulate that her change of intention shall be kept a secret from him for the present! Here comes the old dear, true to the appointment of her own making. How—how rich she looks, to be sure! Enter DAME ConTLAzrnT. Dame (bashfully). Master Munck—I—I ventured to send you a letter this morning. Syn. A most delightful letter, and one that, believe me, I shall prize while I live! Dame (surprised). You are vastly obliging! (Aside) Col- lecting autographs, I suppose. (Aloud) N ow, you will under- stand that, for the reasons explained in my letter, I am most anxious that the subject of our conversation shall be kept a profound secret. Syn. Madam, I will be most careful. You—you are the discreetest little gipsy in Denmark ! Dame. Sir! Syn. Quite right—can’t be too cautious, even between our- selves. I quite grasp the idea. Dame (aside). He is singularly effusive for a confidential family lawyer! (Aloud) I daresay that -you are aware that I am well to do. . Syn. Well, I certainly have heard that Dame Cortlandt is a lady of some means—but oh, she does her lover a grave injustice if she imagines that he allowed a mercenary considera- tion to influence him. . ' Dame (surprised). Why, of course I know that! Syn. Such a dainty, tight, trim, bewitching little rogue re- quires no—- _ . ' HIS EXCELLEAVCY, 117 1)ame (suddenly furious). Eh? What's that? I’m a little rogue! This man presumes to tell me that I am a little rogue! Syn. But, my dear lady- Dame. Don't speak—they're fighting it out—they're fighting it out! Syn. Bless my heart, how very interesting ! Dame (having swallowed her anger—severely). It's all right, Master Munck, and, for the moment, the Tempter is floored, but don’t try that again. Perhaps—perhaps we had better discuss my affairs at another time—when you have slept it off, whatever it is. Syn. No, don’t go—let me gaze a little longer on—(DAME about to break out.) I didn’t say it! I didn’t say it ! I stopped in time! Dame (aside). He's very eccentric for a confidential family lawyer ! (Aloud.) I wish you to take instructions about the settlements on the occasion of—(bashfully) my forthcoming marriage. Syn. My dear lady! [Takes out note-book. Dame. There are my two freehold farms, the three houses in Dentheim, and twelve thousand rix dollars in Government securities. I wish to settle all this, absolutely, on my dear husband. Syn. What, all !!! Dame. Every penny. - Syn. Dearest! (DAME about to break out again. SYNDIC checks himself) I didn't say it! I didn't say it ! I thought it, but I didn’t say it! DUET.—DAME and SYNDIC. Dame, Now all that we've agreed upon, O- And all that's passed between us- No human soul must know, Be he a friend or foe. Syn, You lean no broken reed upon, O- In Courts of Law and Venus (I've practised much in both) I'm always on my oath ! Dame. What always? Sym. Always | Dame, Always? Sym. Always! Always on my oath ! You'll find I am Discreetly dumb, So trust me, ma'am— Dame. The word is mum-- I 18 HIS EXCELLENCE Syn. Of all I know I'll give no clue, You little ro— guey poguey, ybu ! You little roguey poguey! Dame (indiymmtly). Sir ! Syn. You little roguey poguey ! Dame. . Sir! ! S1/z1. You roguey poguey, rogney poguey, roguey poguey ! Dame. Sir! ! ! EnsnMnm. DAME (aside) . SvEmc (aside). Although of men's vulgarity, O—— If called upon in charity, Oq I'm no unfair inquisitor, To justify my visitor, I hate familiarity, 0— I'll quote my popularity, 0- In a family solicitor! As a family solicitor. Both. As a family, family, family, family—- A family solicitor ! Dame, Your tone is not professional, O— It's neither grave nor courtly‘: Such lack of_common-sense Inspires no confidence. Syn. By gradual steps progressions], O—- I‘ll reach the haven shortly ; But till that moment sweet I'll never be indiscreet. Dame. What never ‘? Syn. Never ! Dame. Never ? Syn . ‘Never ! Never be indiscreet! (Danciny.) Those lips command, And I obey, Thoulgh close at hand, he joyous day When I may sip Their honey dew— You little pip— . sy wipsy you ! You little pipsy wipsy l Dame. . Sir ! Syn. You little pipsy wipsy ! Dame. Sir ! ! Syn. You pipsy wipsy, pipsy wipsy, pipsy wipsy ! Dame. Sir! ! ! HIS EXCELLENCY. 1I9 Esssmsuz. DAMn (aside). Snmrc (aside). What sentiments transgressioual ! These gradual steps progressional, 0__ - . _. It's bad, I’ve understood, for Wait any time I would for them, . them- When gentlemen professional, O— When gentlemen professional, 0-- Take more than is quite good Gain widows r1ch,1t’s good for for them ! them! Both. When gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen, igentlemen— Take more than is good for them . Widows gain, it’s good for them ! [Eaceunt separately . Enter EBLING SYKKE, with large unopened ofiicial letter in his hand. Erl. At last—the reply to my letter announcing to His Majesty the completion of the statue! Every hope and every fear of my life lies within the four corners of this document. What may it not contain? Perhaps an order on the King's Treasurer for my ten thousand rix-dollars! Perhaps my appointment as Court Sculptor! Perhaps even my patent of Countship! I tremble so that I can scarcely open it ! [NANNA has entered at the back. She creeps up to him with suppressed fun in her face. Nanna. Oh, what a big letter! Whom is it from, and what’s it all about ? Ert. Nanna, this letter is to seal your destiny and mine—so, as you are as much concerned with it as I am, I think we ought to open it together. It’s—it’s from the King’s private secretary! Nanna. Oh, do be quick and let’s see what’s in it ! Erl. You open it—I can’t! (Giving her the letter.) Nanna. I can. Now then—one! two! three! [NANNA opens it. Erl. Read-—read ! Nanna (looking at it). Oh! I don’t think you’ll like it. Oh ! I’m sure you won’t like it! (Reads.) “ Sir-—1n reply to a letter in which you announce the completion of a statue of His Royal Highness Prince Frederick, alleged by you to have been com- missioned by His Majesty, I have to inform you that His Majesty knows nothing about it.” Erl. (stunned). Knows nothing about it ! I20 I/IS EXCELLENCY. Nanna. There seems to be some mistake. Erl. Some mistake! Why, what do you mean ? Nanna. Why that, at the first blush, it bears the appearance of being one of dear papa’s practical jokes. Erl. But it’s ruin ! Absolute ruin ! Why, I spent every penny I possessed on the marble alone! Nanna. I’m so sorry! Erl. Sorry! I can’t realize it! It stuns me! It’s too cruel— too cruel! And the promise you made 1e? Nanna. Oh, the promise! Ye — es — the conditional promise. Erl. Don’t tell me that was a hoax too! Give me some hope to cling to! I can bear it all if you’ll only tell me that you won't discard me ! Nanna. Really, it’s extremely awkward; but one must be a little prudent. 1’m a very expensive young lady, and as it seems that you have no immediate prospect of being able to maintain an establishment, it would be really criminal on my part to involve you in further embarrassments. [ERLING sinks helplessly on pedestal of statue, and buries his head in his hands. . Soxe. —NANNA. My wedded life Must every pleasure bring On scale extensive !— If I’m your wife I must have everything That’s most expensive-- A 1nd ’s maid- ( y hair alone to do I am not able)- And I’m afraid I’ve been accustomed to A first-rate table. These things one must consider when one marries- And everything I wear must come from Paris ! Oh, think of that ! Oh, think of that! I can’t wear anything that’s not from Paris! From top to toes Quite Frenchified I am, If you examine. And then—who knows ?— Perhaps some day a fam- Perhaps a famine ! My argumentfs correct, if you examine, What should we do, if there should come a f-famine ! HIS EXCELLEIVCY. 121 Though in green pea Yourself you needn’t stin In July sunny, ' In Januaree It really costs a mi‘ti A mint of money ! No lamb for us- House lamb at Christmas sells At prices handsome : Asparagus, In winter, parallels A Monarch‘s ransom. When purse to bread and butter barely reaches, What is your wife to do for hot-house peaches? . Ah ! tell me that! Ah ! tell me that ! What is your wife to do for hot-house peaches ? Your heart and hand Though at my feet you lay, All others scoruing ! .As matters stand, There’s nothing else to say Except—g00d morning ! Though virtue be a husband’s best adorning, That won’t pay rates and taxes—so, good morning ! [Emit NANNA. Erl. Cruel, cold calculating girl! What on earth am I to do? Ruin and desolation stare me in the face! Enter ToETENssEN in great emcitement, with an open letter oi his hand. Tor. Erling! I am tricked, swindled, undone! I have just received a letter from the King’s secretary to say that my appointment is a hoax! I’ve sold my local practice, let my house, and Thora repudiates me with indignation and con- tempt! Erl. Again the Governor's doing! I, also, have just learnt that the commission for the Regent’s statue is a heartless fabrication, and I, too, am ruined—utterly and completely ruined! Tor. My poor Erling! Erl. But this is no time for idle regrets. A term must be put to this scoundrel’s practices. “to will call the people together, tell them of the infamous trick that has been played upon us, and then away to Copenhagen to lay the whole matter before the Regent himself! Tor.. We will, we will! I22 AZS EXCELLAAVCY. FINALE. Erl, and Tor, Come hither, every one, Come hither, all ! Let every mother's son Obey our call! Come hither in your might, In stern parade, And learn the deadly slight Upon you played ! During this the Chorus, CHRISTINA, HAROLD, and BLANCA have All. entered. Why, who the deuce has dared to play A trick, at Elsinore, to-day? Come, tell us quick, This scurvy trick, Why, who the deuce has dared to play? Erl. (passionately). That statue—who commissioned it? All. The King ! Erl, And on that spot positioned it? All, The King! Court sculptor who created me, And told me rank awaited me, Which pleased you and elated me? All. The King! Tor, (furiously). Who raised me from obscurity? All. The King ! Tor. And gilded my futurity? All. The King! Tor. Physician who appointed me? With baron's rank anointed me, Till foolish pride disjointed me? All. The King! The King he did and said it all, He did this noble thing ! Give him the fame and credit all, His Majesty the King! God save the King ! Hurrah! Erl, A lie! No monarch honoured you by honouring us, Or for that cursed statue gave commission; No monarch with perception generous, Appointed Tortenssen his Court Physician | No royal sunlight on on - shone- You have been chea: layed upon | All. We have been c. layed upon? Who is th: for trifling! With cle, tling ! * - - –mm - AM/S A.XCA LLEAVCY. 123 Enter DAME CoRTLANDT in a towering rage, followed by SYNDIC, who tries in vain to appease her. Dame, The truth's revealed, the mystery dispelled— The culprit is—the Governor Griffenfeld ! He doesn't confine to lowly folks His base barbarian dealings, But dares to play his practical jokes Upon my tenderest feelings! Assuming that for you I glowed (to SYNDIC), You Syndical mountebank, you! He—(symptoms of an approaching outbreak). All. Pray be careful or you'll explode ! Dame (with an effort). I'm keeping it under, thank you! All. Hurrah! Hurrah ! Hurrah! Hurrah! She's keeping it under! thank you! Dame, Henceforth I vow, with hate intense, To crush that Governor pagan | Whatever the cost, at my expense, We'll go to Copenhagen. There to the Regent we'll complain, In volleys of vocal thunder– [Further symptoms of an outbreak. All. Now steady, or you'll be off again! Dame (with an effort). All right, I'm keeping it under ! l, Brava ! Brava ! Brava ! Brava ! Dame Cortlandt's keeping it under ! Enter GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA, All, Ah! Here's the monkey undiscerning, Who, all thought of mercy spurning, Dares with men of light and learning Thus to play the pranksome fool! Launch at him our loudest thunder— Tear him limb from limb asunder ! Long enough we've suffered under His detested monkey-rule ! Grif. What means this uproar which my comfort shatters! Explain, I beg! Are ye March hares, or hatters? Dame, No madmen we—but matters not to mince, To Copenhagen we depart, With rage and fury in each heart, To interview our sovereign Regent-Prince | Grif. The Regent? All. Aye, the Regent Grif. Not so loud. Be pacified, I beg, excited crowd: This state of indignation do not foment- The Regent's here, in Elsinore, at this moment All. The Regent here! Grif, Nanna, and Thora. In Elsinore at this moment I I 24 HIS EXCELLEZVC Y. TRl0.—GOvERNOR, NmuA, and TaonA. After a travellin troublesome, Quit of the ourt and the quality-— Weary of bobbery bubblesome— Weary of party and polity, Full of a jolly jocosity, ' Out of the pale of propriety- Hating the pride of pompo'sity— Sick of that sort of society, Regent is resting his brain Here is our little domain ! (repeat) Seeking a time of tranquillity, Free from all fear of formality, Finds it in jolly gentility Here in this lovely locality-— Dofling all duty and dignity (Follies that fidget him fearfully), Vows that our merry malignity Favours his chirrupping cheerfully-— Vows he'll again and again Visit our little domain ! (repeat) All. Seeking a time of tranquillity, etc. [GRIFFENFELD, NANru, and TnoEA dancing through this. Chorus. This is our chance to explain- Tell of our sorrow and pain! SnxTnT. EnLrzm, Tonrausssu, SYNDIC, HAnoL1>, CHRISTINA, and DAME ConTLAunT. Har. This is our opportunity-— It may not come again. Gri/'., Nanna, and Thom (in aflected terror). No, no ! Er. To lay bare with impunity Our misery and pain. Gri_'f., Nanna, and Thora (in afected terror). No, no ! Tort. We’ll beg, with due severity, His speedy punishment. Gri/'., Nanna, and T hora (in afected terror). No, no ! The Sir. And that with all celerity To gaol he might be sent! Grifi, Nanna, and Thom (in afected terror). No, no ! No, no ! not that; avert our doom ! Why it would be our ruin ! Can you resist when we assume This attitude to sue in. ( Kne¢'li'r_q—rep¢¢ll-) All. Yes, yes! . Ha, ha! Yes, yes! Ha, ha ! We can resist though you assume That attitude to sue in l AZS EXCELLEAVC P. I25 Laughing derisively at GRIFFENFELD and DAUGHTERS. Ha, ha! ha, ha! ha, ha! ha, ha! Grif. and Daughters (as if crying). Ho, ho! ho, ho! &c. Grif. Oh, pray have mercy! Do not pour W' a hapless Governor, ho trades a rather devious path, The vials of your mighty wrath! Nanna and Thora. Oh, pray you be magnanimous, 'Twill ruin him and ruin us— In sheer good humour it was done— Oh, haven't you any sense of fun? Oh, haven't you any sense of fun? Oh, haven't you any sense of fun? (pretending to cry.) Ah, don't be hard on one whose passion ruling Was, from his birth, a taste for April fooling! Ah, don't be hard, &c. Go, traitress, go! Of such a foe I scorn the vain appeal. With rage I fume ! Your father's doom This day the Prince shall seal. In vain you cry, And sob and sigh, In vain you kneel, I say! Oh, pity me, pity me, pity me, pity me, Pity me, pity me, pray ! Of all that's mean And vile, I ween, In an underhand way, Epitome-pitome-pitome-pitome-pitome-pitome they ! All Three. Thora. All Three. Erl. and Tor, Grif, : and Thora. Chorus. ENSEMBLE. - ALL (except GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA). Shall we endure this outrage, say ? - Are we but toys to serve his whim P Is he on heartstrings thus to play, As may, perchance, seem good to him ? All. To the Regent, away! Grif., Nanna, } and Thora. All. To the Regent, away ! Grif., Nanna, and Thora. } GRIFFENFELD, NANNA, and THORA (aside). When a Governor triumphs through quibble and quiddity, He may employ with a cheerful avidity, Any amount of tol-lol-the-rol liddity, Tol-the-rol, lol-the-rol, lol-the- rol-lay. Tol-the-rol-the-rol-lay! Tol-the-rol-the-rol-lay! 126 HIS EXCELLE./VCY.‘ All. To the Regent-—the Regent—the Regent, away ! Q; Tol-the-rol-the-rol,101-the-rol, lol-the-rol-lay! [All rush of furiously, emcept CnEISTINA, who remains laughing up stage, and GErrrEnrELn, NANNA, and THOEA, who sink, emhausted with laughter, on seat at foot of statue. ACT II. SCENs.—The Castle Court-yard. ERLINo, ToETEEsssN, SYNDI0. DAMn CORTLANDT, CnEISrmA, and Chorus of men and girls discovered. A sentry is mounting guard on the Castle gate. OrENING CnonUs. With anger stern And fierce determination, We wait to learn . The fate of our appeal. . - To R ent just e’ve given information, And this, we trust, The tyrant’s doom will seal. Erl. This mite of a man who’ll plot and plan To ruin us all for his delight-— Tor. The mannikin ape in human shape-— Dame. This tuppenny ha’penny lump of spite ! All. _ This tuppenny ha’penny, tuppenny hafpenny, Tuppenny ha’penny lump of spite ! CEEISTrNA comes forward. RECIT.—CHRISTINA. Be eomforted—his downfall I foresee, All who exceed_the bounds of strict simplicity, And, yielding to a taste for eccentricity, Fly in the face of orthodox morality, Must dearly pay for their originality- You know the story of the wilful bee ? All (furiously). We don’t ! We never heard it! ETL Who was he HIS EXCELLEZVCY. I27 SoEo.-—CuRrsTnm. (Guitar accompaniment.) A hive of bees, as I’ve heard say, Said to their Queen one sultry day- “ Please, your Majesty’s high position, The hive is full and the weather is warm. We rather think, with a due submission, The time has come when we ought to swarm?” Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Outspake their Queen, and thus spake she- “ This is a matter that rests with me, Who dares opinions thus to form ? ]’ll tell you when it is time to swarm! ” Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Her Majesty wore an angry frown, In fact Her Majesty’s foot was down- Her Majesty sulked_declined to sup- In short Her Majesty's back was up. Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, Her foot was down and her back was up ! That hive contained one obstinate bee (His name was Peter), and thus spake he— “ Though every bee has shown white feather, To bow to fashion I am not prone- Why should a hive swarm all together? Surely a bee can swarm alone? ” Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, Upside down and inside out, Backwards forwards round about, Twirling here and twisting there, Topsy turvily everywhere- Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Pitiful sight it was to see Respeetable elderly high-class bee, Who kicked the beam at sixteen stone, Trying his best to swarm alone ! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, Trying his best to swarm alone ! The hive were shocked to see their chum (A strict teetotaller) teetotum— The Queen exclaimed, “ How terrible, very ! It's perfectly clear to al the throng Peter’s been at the old brown sherry. Old brown sherry is much too strong-— Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Of all who thus themselves degrade A stern example must be made, To Coventry go, you tipsy bee ! ” So off to Coventr town went he. Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. 128 HIS EXCELLE./VCY. There, classed with all who misbehave, Both plausible rogue and noisome knavc, In dismal dumps he lived to own The folly of trying to swarm alone ! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. All came of trying to swarm alone. Chorus. All came of trying to, &c. Enter MATs MUses from Castle. All. Well, well—what news ? Does he refuse Our rightful dues ? What news—what news ? lllats. Good news ! the Regent, whom we all revere, Will read your neatly drawn appeal—- (I drew it !) Without an hour’s delay he‘ll meet you here, And if we prove our case the Governor'll rue it ! All. Hurrah ! Mats. If these our charges home we bring, He swears the Governor's neck he'll wring ; And when he says he’ll do a thing, He'll do it! All. Hurrah ! The sorrows that damped our lives are past, And happily all will end at last. As soon as the audience has been held, Good-bye to the Governor Griffenfeld ! .Men. Good-bye ! Girls. Good-byc ! Men. Good-bye ! Girls. Good-bye ! All. Good-bye to the Governor Griffenfeld ! Enter N ANNA and TI-IORA. They come forward humbly. E'rl. and Tort. (recit.). Ah, false one! Tlzora. With humbled head—in desperation dire— I tidings bring from ‘my repentant sire. He much regretshis foolish whim- Nanna. And hopes you’ll intercede for him ; For, though his gore at retractation rises, He’s very sorry-—and apologizes, Thom. He can't say more—- Both. Hc’s very sorry—and apologizes ! . Erl. and Be comforted—I can’t resist that tear ! Tor. . At once I’ll seek our Sovereign Prince’s ear, ' And tell him-—though our future you destroy it- I don’t mind ruination——I enjoy it! HIS EXCELLENCY. I29 Enter GRIFFENFELD from Castle. Grif. (humbly). Complying with the popular request, So prettily expresscd— Syn. (aside). I drew it! Grif. The Regent comes»—forgive our little p1ot- Our enitence, do not ooh pooh it ! Namuz. If still to press your grievance you agree, Then I feel certain we Shall rue it ! T hora. So please withdraw, as we are penitenl‘, That well-worn document. Syn. (aside). I drew it! All. No, no ; no mercy will we show- Away with you! you plead in vain ! N0 word of ours shall stop the blow ; Your prayer we will not entertain ! Flourish. Enter REGENT. Principals and Chorus. Hail, O Regent Prince. Coming to requite us ! Matters not to mince, You will nobly right us. Your disgust evince— Make the tyrant wince— — Hail, O Sovereign Prince, Whose decrees delight us ! Racrr. —RE0a2~"r. I’ve read your dutiful memorial : If any other for reprisals call, Or, suffering grievance, wish me to abate it, This is your opportunity to state it. . Har. (recit.). May it please your Highness ! _ Am. Hm‘. Though we're eager for to sally '10 the doughty field of Mars-— Soldiers. May it please your Royal Highness! Har. And encounter, generally, Any quantity of scars- Soldiers. May it please your Royal Highness! Har. Yet for mischief, principally, He has turned us into ballet, And we feel it personally— It is rough on brave Hussars ! Req. Yes, it’s rou h on brave Hussars ! All. Yes, you’re right, your oyal Highness, it is rough on brave Hussarsl Har. If we urge, in accents courtly, That it wounds our proper pride-— Soldiers. May it please your Royal Highness ! 1v. K 130 111.5‘ EXCELLE./VCY. Har. Why, he answers as retortly, And for mutiny we’re tried— Soldiers. May it please your Royal Highness ! ' Har. We are soldiers grave and portly, And it aggravates us mort'lly, For, to put the matter shortly, Well, it is not dignified ! All. No, it isn't dignified! Reg. N 0, it isn‘t dignified ! All. Look at this, your Royal Highness—it is far from dignified ! BALLET or HUsSAas.. SONG.—Rl£GEN'l‘_. My people, who’ve submitted to the Governor's absurdities, I sympathize most heartily with every word you say ; His ‘Excellency‘s conduct is too bad—upon my word it is— But all his wrong .l'll rectify without undue delay. On Erling, who has sufiered from his mischievous malignity, We shed the sunny summer of our Sovereign benignity, And ratify all promises of dollars and of dignity. So consequently Nanna will be his this very clay. All. So consequently Nanna will be his this very day. lissssrnLa. REGENT (aside to Gran). Gun‘. (aside to REGENT). ERLING (aside). Oh, Nanna will be Your orders I am try- My orders you i1-r— mine this very ing to obey, plicitly obey, day, Ihope I don't exceed Proceed with perfect And all my sorrows in any way ; certainty you hide themselves For so nobly you may; _ away; array me, Now unmcrcifully For the trick he So magnificently flay me, dared to play me, pay me, And with punish- It will handsomely That your orders I am anxious to obey. NANNA (aside). It's fortunate that this is all in play. ' I shouldn’t like to marry him to- dal’ 3 . . It would terrible dismay be, If he really came to claim me, It is lucky that’s it’s only said in play. ment dismay me, Or my orders you will If Miss Nanna will be surely disobey. repay me, mine this very day. THORA, Other Principals. and Chorus. Oh, Nanna will be his this very day, ‘ And all his sorrows hide them- selves away ; . I will handsomely array me In my very best to play me, For Miss Nanua will be his this very day !_ ‘ HIS EXCELLEZVCY. I31 You, Tortenssen,—whom Griffenfeld with impudent audacity Appointed our Physician—why, that gift is ratified With promised rank of Baron—in that dignified capacity He‘s warranted in claiming pretty Thora as his bride. And Harold, gallant Corporal, whom with a spite oppressional, Was made to twist and turn about like ballet-girl professional, Dispensing with the many" intermediate steps progressioual, A Colonel he’s created at one mighty giant stride ! All. A Colonel he's created at one mighty giant stride. EusnMnLE. REGENT (aside to Gnu-‘. (aside to HAnoLn and Ton- Gn1rx). RaoEuT). Tnussnu. I trust your Excel- So far, my Excel- Upon my word, I'm lency’s satisfied, 1ency’s satisfied, truly gratified, To carry out your To carry out my To justify your choice wishes I have wishes you have will be my pride; tried-— . tried; For I think you’ve If I haven’t acted When you fail to chosen rightly, right! do it rightly And I thank you You wil mention it I will mention it most politely, politely, politely, For, upon my word, But I trust your Ex' But, so far, my Excel- ‘ I’m truly grati- cel1ency’s satis- lency’s satisfied. fied. fied. Tl-IORA (aside). Other Principals and Chorus. If he thinks that I intend to be his Upon my word, we’re truly grati- bride, fied, He’ll find itamistake unqualified, To justify your choice will be If I know my feelings rightly, their pride; I will thank him most politel , For we think you’ve chosen And decline, on any terms, to e rightly, his bride. And we thank you most politely, ‘ For, upon my word, we’re truly gratified. And now for Governor Grifien£eld—we highly to extol you meant, But, finding you’re addictedto discreditablc pranks, We strip you of your dignity, position, and emolument, And name Mats Munck as Governor—we don’t want any thanks. And, as in these proceedings we are handec all in unity, I think we couldn't find a more‘convenient opportunity Of proving that imposture can’t be practised with impunity. ( To GRIFFENFELD..) For all your impositions you’re degraded to the ranks !_ All. For all his impositions he’s degraded to the ranks ! I32 HIS EXCELLE./VCY. EivsrmnLE. Rnc. (aside to Gain). Gnu‘. (aside to REG.). SYNDIC. I think I have done You've done it pretty Now really this is like exactly as you nearly as I’ve said, to turn my head, said, If you hadn’t you’d For I’m to rule as I am sure I hope I have sacrificed Governorinstead! haven’t been mis- your head. _ When I get my led; You shall now re- quartefspayment, When I receive my ceive your pay- l’ll buy all his left- payments, ment, ofl raiment, I’ll surrender allthis So take oil’. that And it’s possible Dame raiment, handsome rai- Cortlandt I may And resume my old ment, wed. habiliments in— And resume your old stead. habiliments in- stead. NANNA and TnonA (aside to CnonUs, and other Principals. each other). Assuredly there's nothing to be Did you hear what that audacious said, fellow said? He's lucky in escaping with his My goodness, how exceedingly head ! ill-bred ! He loses all his payment, Let us give the man his pay- And his most expensive rai- ment, ment, Then he’ll doif his splendid And he'll take his turn at sentry- raiment, go instead ! And resume his own habiliments instead. Reg. N ow all you men and maidens true, Who troth have duly plighted— (I understand you’re not a few) Your wrongs shall all be righted : At his expense a banquet to You’re cordially invited. And in the Castle Chapel you This day shall be united ! All. Hurrah ! (all dancing) Oh, bright delight—go, find a priest ! The wedding and the wedding feast, At your expense, will soon be held— So thank you, Private Grifienield ! Ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. At your expense they will be held, Three cheers for Private Grifienfeld! All. So thank you- Gri . Thank you— Al . Thank you- Grifl". Thank you- All. Thank you, Private Griffenfeld ! [All dance of in couples, eaceptGE1FFENFELD and REGENT. HIS EXCELLENCY. 133 Reg. (changing his manner—very humbly). I trust l’ve fairly carried out your Excollency’s instructions ? G'n_'f. You’ve done pretty well, sir—0nly pretty well! Reg. May I ask in what respect I have failed? Grif Your manner is not sutficiently dignified for a Royal Prince—you want a great deal more of this sort of thing- (business) —you are not at all Royal, sir ! Reg. I see what you mean. (Imitating him.) Thank you, I’m sure—it will be most useful to me in my profession, and I’ll take care to remember it. But pray bear in mind that, as a poor stroller, I have not enjoyed your Excellency’s many opportunitiesof making myself acquainted with the deportment of the very highest classes. Grif True, but I told you this afternoon that you must endeavour t' assume an air of-—of this sort of thing‘—(business). Then again, your instructions were to order me to be shot in twenty-four hours. Why didn’t you do that? Reg. Well, I was about to give the order, but when I saw the temper of the people and how cordially you are detested— most unjustly, I’m sure—I was afraid to do so lest, in their fury, they should execute the order on the spot. Gn'f. I see what you mean. Reg. I might not have had time to stop them. Gr?/‘. Very true. Reg. But it's not too Iate—they can be sent for directly and the order given, without delay. (About to go of.) Gm:/'. No—on second thoughts it’s not necessary. It will do as it is. Reg. I trust you think I exercised a wise discretion ? Grtf/'. Well, on the whole, perhaps yes, I say-—it’s—it’s a good joke, isn’t it? Reg. It’s a perfect monument of practical humour. Only— forgive the suggestion—isn’t it a little risky? Gm/'. Risky? What do you mean? Reg. Somehow these practical jokes have such a tendency to recoil on the heads of their perpetrators. Now, mere verbal humour is so‘ much safer—a quip, a crank, a jibe, jape or ‘est? J Grif. Nonsense, sir, don’t talk to me about japes and jests! Return to the Castle, and when you’ve resumed your rags, I will pay you the golden Freidrichs I promised you. Be off! Reg. As your Excellency pleases. [Emit REGsuT into Castle. Gm]. What does he mean about practical jokes recoiling on their-perpetrator? I ought to know. I’ve played them with I 34 H15 EXCELLE./VCY. impunity for five-and-forty years! It’s all very. well to talk about verbal humour, but where is it to come from? Why, everything of the kind has been said—t'here’s absolutely nothing left! Sosa. -GltIl<‘FENFELD. Quixotic is his enterprise, and hopeless his adventure is, Who seeks for jocularities that haven't yet been said. The world has joked incessantly for over fifty centuries, And every joke that’s possible has long ago been made. I started as a humourist with lots of mental fizziness, But humour is a drug which it’s the fashion to abuse ; .For'my stock in trade, my fixtures, and the goodwill of the business No reasonable offer I am likely to refuse. And if anybody choose . He may circulate the news ' ‘ That no reasonable offer I am likely to refuse. Oh happy was that humourist-—the first that made a pan at all-7 Who when a joke occurred to him, however poor and mean, Was absolutely certain that it never had been done at 11.11-- 'How popular at dinners must that humourist have been ! Oh the daysiwhcn some stepfather for the query held a handle out, The door-mat from the scraper, is it distant very far? . ' And when no one knew where Moses was when Aaron. put the candle out, _ . " And no one had discovered that a door could be a-jar! But your modem hearers are In their tastes particular, And they sneer if you inform them that a door can be a-jar! In search of quip and quiddity l‘ve sat all day, alone, apart— And all that I could hit on as a problem was--to find Analogy between a scrag of mutton and a Bony-part, Which ofiers slight employment to the speculative mind: For von cannot call it very good, however great your charity— ._ It'z not the sort of humour that is greeted with a shout-—_ And I've come to the conclusion that the mine of joculurity, ln present Anno Domini, is worked completely out! Though the notion you may scout, I can prove beyond a doubt That the mine of jocularity is utterly worked out ! [Emit into Castle. Enter HAROLD (zl0tll dre-.ed as Colonel) followed by BLANCA. Har. Now, don’t worry me--I can’t attend to you now. I’ve the responsibility of a Regiment on my shoulders, and I’ve no time to listen to ‘chatterboxes. If you’ve anything to say, mention it to the Sergeant-Major. ’ _ Blan. The Sergeant-Major? Oh, very good—only if I tell 136 AZS EXCELLEAVCY. Blan. (confidentially to audience). The Regent was weak in the head | JHar. She, taking the facts at a glance, To his bosom unblushingly flew— Blan. And he was so deeply in love, I declare. - That he married her then, and he married her there- Both. So it ends with a wedding at Hanover Square, As a three volume novel should do! [Exeunt together. Enter MATs MUNCK, now dressed in GRIFFENFELD's uniform. Mats. When a man is promoted unexpectedly to a position of the highest official distinction, it is always a satisfactory circumstance when his figure is calculated to set off his uniform to advantage. (Sentry presents arms to him.) Eh? Oh, thank you very much. You're extremely polite, I'm sure! Sent. Please to remember the sentry. Mats. Eh? Oh, certainly ! [Gives him money. Enter DAME CoRTLANDT unobserved. She comes forward. Dame C. (putting her arm round him). Mats! Little man | Mats. Eh? Oh, it's you. Don't. I'm busy now. (Aside.) It was all very well when I was only a Syndic, but as a Governor I can look a good deal higher than this sort of person. (Aloud, to sentry.) Will you kindly do that again? Sent. Certainly. [Presents arms. Mats. Most gratifying, I’m sure! (Tips him again. DAME again embraces MATS.) Now, don’t worry—can't you see that I have business with a gentleman? [Reverts to sentry. Dame C. (suppressing her rage with difficulty). Mats! Take care! This is strange treatment—at the very outset of our engagement! * But, my good soul, you speak of our engagement aS 11– Dame C. Don't deny it, Mats. I have your letter of proposal in my pocket-you have my letter of acceptance in yours! I'm trying to keep it down, Mats. Mats. But as you very properly observed, that wasn't addressed to me but to the ex-Governor. Dame C. It does just as we' or you, Mats. I accepted the Governor, and you are the 101. Mats. If it comes to were proposed to by the Syndic, and I’m not the Synd- d the Syndic-go seek, go find– there's a good girl to sentry.) Will you oblige me once more? [Giving him money. HIS EXCELLENCY. I37 Dame C. (heaving with suppressed rage). I'm doing my best to subdue it, Mats, but it’s a"tremendous effort. Mats. Hold your breath and count six, my dear. Dame C. (does so). It’s all right, dear—it’s down again! Mats. (occupied with sentry). So glad! Dame C. We must settle this at once, Mats. It’’ a very nice point. Shall we refer it to arbitration? ’ Mats. By all means. I find this gentleman (indicating sentry) full of delicate appreciation—supp0se we leave it to him? Dame O. You will undertake to abide by the result, Mats? ' Mats. With pleasure. (Aside) I’ve tipped him till he doesn’t know whether he stands on his head or his heels! . QUARTET. MA'rs MUucK, DAME Com-LAsrrr, Snxrrw, and afterwiu-ds GnrrmmrnLn. Mats (to SENTRY). One day, the Syndic of this town (Whose time of life is shady) Alfectionately kneeling down, Proposed to this old lady. Now your opinion give politely And riddle me this and riddle me rightly-— Who claims her hand? (Asicle.) Here's half-a-crown! . [T ippirlg him. Sent. No doubt the Syndic of this town. Mats (dancing). Exactly s0—the truth you speak—- (To DAME). Away—your love-sick Syndic seek-— You have no claim upon me, for Unhappily I’m the Governor! Sent. Oh yes, he is the Governor! Mats (delighted). ‘ There! Sent. No doubt he is the Governor! Mats. There! Sent. Against you, ma’am, I must decln.re—- This gentleman is the Governor ! Mats. There ! Dame. But bless my soul— Mats. The man is right! Dame. That’s not the whole-— Mats. It/s settled quite ! ENSEMBLE- DAME. Mus. It’s now my turn my wrongs to I’ve taken steps the Court to all, square, S0 Governor Munck for squalls So fire sway, ma’am—I don't prepare ! care ! I38 HIS EXCELLENCY. [During the Ensemble a corporal’s guard enters-—the sentry is relieved, and GRIFFENFELD, now dressed as a private Hussar, is left in his place. The change is not noticed by the DAME or Mxrs. Dame. _ One moment, pray—your words retrace, Oh, sentinel, shortsightedl I to the Governor of this place, My troth securely plighted-— Now pray don't treat this question lightly, But riddle me this and riddle me rightly—- Who claims my conjugal embrace? Grif. Of course, the Governor of this place ! Dame. (dancing). Exactly so! you well decide! I am, ha! ha! the Governor’s bride- The Governor you, you can't deny-— Argal, the Governor's lady, I! _ G;-ff, She is the Governor's lady ! Mats. What ! Grif. Of course, the Goverer’s lady ! M'ats. “lhat! Gri . You are the Governor, are you not? Then she’s the Governor’s lady! Mats. What! But bless my heart—- Dame. (still dancing). That man is right! That’s but a part—- Ddme. It’s settled quite! EnsmrsLs. DAME. lllATs. Gnu‘. (aside). Though basely you If I consent, may I be How capif’ally I plan may plan and plot, shot, and plot With me you’ll share With her to share my To cleverly cut the your Governor's lot! Governor's lot ! Gordian knot ! [DAME dances of in front of MATs, who tries in vain to escape. Grzf. (alone). It’s alright! they’re both committed to it,' and that little difficulty is off my hands at last! Hallo! what's wrong now ? Enter NANNA and THORA tidying their caps and much out of temper. Thora. Papa, a joke’s a joke,—but I don’t think it fair to _ make us plot against ourselves! Nanna. I’m sure I enjoy a bit of fun as much as anybody, but when it comes to our being coupled, if only for an afternoon, with a brace of penniless admirers, who are disposed to take every advantage of the position in which they temporarily find themselves, why, it’s going a little too fnr—that’s all! AZS EXCELLEAVCY, I39 Grif. Why, what have they been doing? Thora. Why, they've been unnecessarily realistic in their attentions. Grif. Unpleasantly so? Thora. I said unnecessarily so. Goodness knows, I don't mind realism when there's any prospect of its coming to any- thing definite, but as neither of these young men has a penny, the sooner it's put a stop to the better! Grif. Hasn't a penny! What are you talking about? Why, they're magnificent matches l—Court Physician with the rank of Baron!—Sculptor Extraordinary to the Royal Family with the title of Count Why, you grasping girls, what more do you want? Nanna. Oh, papa! that's all nonsense ! If these persons were really what they believe themselves to be, we wouldn't mind, but as they're both penniless young men, and we are penniless young ladies, the sooner we tell them the truth, the better. - - Grif. But, my good girls, consider! Don't go and spoil it all! Think of the fun of it when they discover how they've been cheated ! Oh, my dear girls, there's a rich and rare treat in store for us all! --- - [The girls, who have been chuckling through his speech, burst into hearty laughter. Thora. Upon my word, it ought to be extremely amusing ! PATTER TRIO, GovERNOR, NANNA, and THoRA. Grif. When a gentleman supposes that he comfortably dozes on a pleasant bed of roses (which are singularly rare)-- Nanna. And discovers that it bristles, with uncomfortable thistles, in intemperate epistles his annoyance he'll declare- Thora. When a man his temper loses his remarks he never choses, but expressive language uses, with a tendency to swear— Grif. And when lovers are discarded their upbraiding will be larded with some epithets unguarded—you had better not be there ! Nanna (disappointed). We had better not be there? Thora (disappointed). We had better not be there? Grif. (decidedly). You had better not be there ! il. '. had better not be there ! anna and Thora. When these gentlemen conceited both they've been cheated, all our fun defeated—that's a thing we couldn't be So, however they may rave it, we'll und ably brave it; you may take your affid will certainly be there ! 140 HIS EXCELLEIVCY. xii), } will certainly be thcre—- gév} will certainly be there— Though {ylou} flout it, never doubt it, {twe } he Y will certainly be there ! ) Grif. Their despair and their distraction and their keen dissatis- faction-—their exaggerated action, and the tearing of their hair— Narma. Their disgust and desperation when they see the situation some congenial occupation for the lawyers will prepare— T hora. We shall find their loud abusing both instructive and amusing, and of violent accusing there‘ll be symptoms in the air-— Gz-if. And their libellous expressions and their angry indiscretions will be tried at Quarter Sessions, when I occupy the chair l Nanna (gleefully). When you occupy the chair- Thora (gleefully). When you occupy the chair-— Gr_if. When I occupy the chair ! All Three. When { yilm} occupy the chair. Grif. When the case is quite completed, then the prisoner defeated with severity is treated as you’re probably aware- For it’s awfully provided that thejury shall be guided by my summary one-sided——which distresses Labouchere. All Three. It is rough on Labouchere— It is hard on Labouchere— Oh, the dickens, how it sickens tender-hearted Labouchere! [Emit GRIFFENFELD. Nmma. Really, Thora, I can’t help feeling rather conscience- stricken. Poor boys! I’m really afraid we’ve broken their hearts! . Thora. It’s a pity they’re such nobodies. I sometimes think between ourselves . Narma. Hush! So do I—but here they come. . Enter EemuG and ToaTEEsssN. The girls retire up stage and listen. Tort. Do you know, I don’t care to be repulsed by :1 girl l‘m engaged to, Count. Erl. '1‘hey certainly treated us very coldly, Baron. Mere innocent attentions—such as every girl expects from the man she’s going to marry . Tort. Remember, Count, we are no longer a couple of adven- turers, we are great men, and we are entitled to expect that attentions shall be paid to us, now. (Girls indulge in sup- pressed chuckles.) I think a little condescension on our part, a . . HIS EXCELLENCY. _ , 14]‘. little stand-offishness, an air of doing them a considerable favour, would not be misplaced. Erl. I see what you mean, Baron. A little of this sort of thing—“ Good-day to you, my dear; good-day to you. Pleased to see you, pleased to see you— — ” - Tort. “ A little further off, please. We’ll tell you when we want the mixture as before.” Don’t you think so, Count? Erl. I really think it’s only what is due to us, Baron, I do indeed. [The Girls comeforward pretending to weep bitterly. Nanna (in afected tears). Oh, please, we’ve been thinking it over, and we’re very sorry we were so un-kuk-kuk-kuk-kind to you just now. Erl. (condescendingly). Thank you, thank you. Pray don’t name it. " Tort. We thought you’d like a little attention-—but it’s not _ of ‘the smallest consequence. There—go away—there’s good r s. g1 Thora (pretending to sob). Oh, but we did like it—only— [Bursts into tears. Nanna (sobbing). We thought it more mai-mai.maidenly to be cuc-cuc-cuc-coy! [Tears. Nanna. By such a par-par-particular pa-pa-papa! Thora. And we’re so afraid of Mrs. Gug-gug-gug-Grundy! (Violent burst of tears.) [Both burst into floods of tears. Erl. Now, my darling child —Nanna—dearest—d0n’t cry like that! I can’t bear it! See, on my knees I swear to you that I will always-—always love you as I love you now! Oh, don’t cry like that- you’ll break my heart—indeed you will! Tort. My dearest Thora—you mustn’t—really you mustn't ! It’s dreadful to see those pretty eyes so red with weeping—Oh, I was a brute to be unkind to you, there—don’t be a little goose! I didu’t mean it . —upon my word I didn't! [Both men are on their knees trying to console the two girls. The girls, who have been pretending to weep hysterically through this, suddenly burst into peals of hearty laughter. Erl. (springing up). Tortenssen, I do believe they’re laughing at us! Thora. Oh, aren’t the nobility shrewd! Nanna. And isn’t the aristocracy quick at grasping a situation! Toosrnnn. 142 1115 EXCELLENC Y. D.rs, who has taken of his coat, puts it on again, and prepares to take their names. Mag. My name is Anthony Hurricane Egg, Bartholomew Capperboy Property Skegg—- I haven’t done yet—-Conolly Maguire-— Cripps. But really-— Mag. I haven’t quite finished—Esquire ! CHORUS (rising from their seats, and dancing up to the Registrar and back again). His name is Anthony Hurricane Egg, &c. ‘ [All sit down suddenly._ Cripps (speaking). Sir, the Christian names are immaterial. Mag. Oh ! (Sings) Oh, I was born at Pettybun On a Saturday—on a Saturday- Cripps (speaking). Your place of birth is also immaterial. Mag. Oh! (Sings) In eighteen hundred twenty-one, - On the fourth of May-—on the fourth of May- Cripps (angrily). ‘My dear sir, I don’t want your biography --you have told me quite enough ! "HASTE TO THE WEDDING.” . I6I Mag. Very good. (To BorAnnY.) Now it’s your turn. (Loudly.) Now it’s your turn. (In a whisper.) Now it’s your turn. B0. Oh !—my turn (advancing with dignity). Sir (to Carrrs), before I consent to become a witness in this Iatter—— All (bursting into chorus). On a Saturday—on a Saturday! Bo. I should like to express my views as to the qualifications of a witness——— All’ (as before). On the fourth of May—on the fourth of May. Cripps. What is he talking about? B0. In the first place he should be of full age. I am. In the second, he.should be a Briton by birth. I am. In the third— All. Oh, he was born at Pettybun, On the fourth of May—on the fourth of May, In eighteen hundred twenty-one, On a Saturday—0n a Saturday ! [All sit suddenly. , Food. (looking of R.). Oh, uncle, uncle! look here! [During the dialogue that follows BOrADDY has been much fascinated with the two milliners’ dolls’ heads, flirting first with one, then with the other, as if unable to make up his mind which of them he prefers. Mag. What! my son-in-law elect kissing a young woman! It’s 011' ! It’s 011' ! Foodle, my daughter is yours! Food. Maria! [Putting his arms round her. Enter WoonrEcKEE c. from R. Wood. Why in the world haven’t you gone back to your cabs? _ Mag. Sir, We ofl ! It’s oil‘ ! Wood. Very good. Mag. You ought to be ashamed of yourself ! Wood. I am. What have I done ? Mag. You dare to ask that when I saw you through that door with a young woman in your arms ! Wood. (aside). He saw me! (Aloud.) I admit it, sir! Maria (crying). He owns to it! All (crying). He owns to it! Food. My darling! [Embracing MARIA. Wood. Will you stop that hugging ? Food. She’s my cousin— we were brought up together. Mag. It’s quite allowable—she’s his cousin. Iv. M I62 “HASTE TO THE WEDDING.” - Wood. His cousin ? Oh, then, the lady I was embracing is my cousin! . . . All. Oh indeecl-—that’s quite another matter ! Mag. It’s on again! Foodle, my boy, it’s on again ! Food. (relinquishing MARIA). Old teetotum! Mag. Introduce me to your cousin—I’ll invite her to the wedding. Wood. (aside). Bella at Maria’s wedding! (Aloud) It’s of no use—she can’t come-—she’s in mourning. Mag. What, in a pink dress? Wood. Yes— it’s for her husband. Mag. (convinced). Oh. Well, we’re quite ready, sir, when you are (to CRIrrS). [All sit in a row opposite desk. Wood. What are they doing ? Cripps. I really must make a complete change. I’ll go into the next room—there’s no one there. ' [Going towards door with his dry clothes under his arm. Mag. Where are you going ? _ Uripps. I shall catch my death of cold if I don’t-—I really can’t help it—you must excuse me. “ [Emit door R. Mag. My friends, let us follow the Registrar! [Musia They all dance after CRIrrS in couples, BorADnY last, with one of the doll’s heads, and kissing his hand to the other. Wood. Where the deuce are they allgolng? Enter BELLA c. from R. Bella. Here’s your specimen (giving remains of hat). I’nr very sorry, but I can’t match it. Wood. What! Bella. If you like to wait three weeks I can get you onelfrom Florence. Wood. Three weeks! Bella. I only know of one like it in London. Wood. 1 buy it--mind, I buy it.“ . ’ _ Bella. Impossible! I sold it a’we_ek ago to—;i.: .' ’ Wood. To whom? ' _. ' . ' Bella. To the Marchioness crannies Hsrb0ronghl 1 . ‘ . ' . . [Exit it’arm. Wood. This is pleasant! A Marchioness! I e'an’t call on a Marchioness and ask her how much she wants‘ for her hat! Enter Carers in, with his dry clothes under his dfm, pursued 61/ the wedding party dancing as before, B(rP'Aln1>Y' last; witlt “HASTE T' THE WEDDING.” I63 _ the doll’s head. They eéveamt ajter CElrrs L. Music forte while they are on—_pianissimo'when they are o.. . Wood. Hi ! Mr. Maguire, where are you going? _ _ [Is about to follow. Enter JACKSON. Jackson. Sir, I’ve just come from home. Wood. Well, is the Captain there still ?.'; Jack. Yes, he’s there,'but he ‘ain’t still. The lady has fainted, and can’t leave the house. 1 Wood. Wrap her up in a blanket and send her home at once ! (Emit J A0KSON.),I must have this hat at any rate. (Refers to Blue Book.) The Marchioness ‘of Market Harbor0ugh—Carlt0n Gardens. 1’ll get married first, and then I’ll call on her. But what shall.I do with the wedding party? I know. I’ll shut ’em up in the Duke of York’s Column. I’ll say to thekeeper-, “ I engage this Column for twenty-four hours—let no one out.” [Emit. Enter Csrrrsfrom. L., with his dry clothes, very breathless. Cripps. Why the deuce do the people follow me everywhere? It’s impossible for me tochange my clothes l Enter all the wedding party as before. Music forte. .CRIPrS runs round stage and 01?’, followed by wedding party. BorAnnY last, with the doll’.s head. He is‘ much emhausted with running. . " . ACT II. SeENEaA handsomely furnished front and back drawing-room ' in.Carlton Gardens. The two rooms separated by hand- some doublecurtains which are closed during the early part of the Act. A sumptuous luncheon is laid on the table in back-room, but concealed from audience by curtains. Doors R. and L. Window up stage L. Small tableii. with ease and bouquet. Grand piano L.o. Enter BARNs, an old family retainer. ' Barns (announcing). The Duke of Turniptopshire! Enter DUKE. _Emit_ BAims. ' Duke. Admirablel Magnificent! What gorgeous decora- tions! What refined taste! What have we here? (Looks 164 “HASTE T' THE WEDDING." through curtains.) A most luxurious cold collation! Seven- and-sixpence a head, if it cost a penny! I wonder if (looking around him) there’s no one coming—I wonder if I might venture to take just one tartlet! I will— [Takes a tartlet from table and eats ll. Enters the MARCHIONESB or MARKET HABBOROUGH. March. Well, Duke. Duke. Marehioness (embarrassed, with his mouthful)—I-—I —delighted to see you. March. (more in sorrow than in anger). Ah, Duke, Duke —you’ve been picking the luncheon again! Now that’s too bad ! Duke. Pm sorry—very, very sorry. Forgive me, it was thoughtless-——criminal if you will, but I was ever a wayward child, accustomed to have his every whim gratified, and now, in middle age, I find it difficult to shake off the shackles that custom and education have riveted on me. [In tears. March. (in tears). You were my late husband’s early friend! Duke (with an eflbrl). And now, my dear Marchioness, whom do you expect at your concert this morning? Tell me all—do not fear-—you can trust me implicitly! March. I feel I can! Well, then, there’s Lord and Lady Popton, the Duke and Duchess of Deal, Colonel Coketown, the Dowager Duchess of Worthing, Lord and Lady Pentwhistle, and the Archbishop of Bayswater. Duke (aside). All dem snobs! (Aloud) And who sings? March. The most delightful creature in the world—no other than the distinguished falsetto, Nisnardi, who arrived only a week.ago from Bologna, and who has already turned all the crowned heads of Europe! He can go up to G! Duke. Gad bless me, what a gift! March. You have no idea how deliciously eccentric he is. Duke. Well, you know, a man who can touch an upper G is not like us common fellers: he’s a genius——a genius. March. Exactly. I asked him to sing two songs this after- noon, and sent him a cheque for 3000 guineas; here is his reply: (reads), “Madam,"y0u ask me to sing two songs. I will sing three; you ofifer me 3000 guineas—it is not enough-—— ” Duke. Dem foreigner! March. “ It is not enough; my terms are—a flower from your bouquet!” Duke. A what ? March. “ A flower from your bouquet!” Is it not romantic ? Duke. It’s a poem—a “ballade!” Pardon this weakness! [Wiping his eyes. “[1/ISTE TO THE WEDDING." I65 fllarch. Dear, dear Duke! (Wiping her egs.) You know the Princess Po!petti—with the pretty feet? Duke. I know her pretty feet. March. What do you think were his terms for singing at her concert ? Duke. I don’t know. He seems fond of flowers—perhaps a pot of mignonette? March. Nothing of the kind—one of her old slippers! Duke (in tears). Don’t—demme, I can’t stand it—I can’t, indeed! March. What tenderness—what sympathy! (Pressing his hand.) You were my late husband’s early friend! (Noise and carriage heard.) Here are my guests, and I’ve been crying! I mustn’t be seen in this state! Duke, oblige me by receiving them—I’ll be down in one minute. [Emit MARcErosEss. Duke (takes out snuf-bom, opens it as if about to take snuf, produces powder-pufi’, and powders his face to remove traces of tears). Why am I cursed with this tremnlous scnsitiveness? 'Why are my heartstrings the sport and toy of every wave of sympathetic second-hand sentiment ? Ah! ye small tradesmen and other Members of Parliament, who think rump steak and talk bottled beer, I would give ten years of mylife to experience, for one brief day, the joy of being a commonplace man! Soxc.—Dmus. Oh butcher, oh baker, oh candlestick-maker, Oh vendors of bzcoe and snuff- And you, licensed vittler, and public-house skittler, And all who sell sticky sweet-stui’r'— Ye harbors, and Messrs. the Bond Street hair-dressers (Some shave you, and others do not)- Yc greasy porkpie-men—ye second-hand flymen—- All people who envy my lot ( taking up tambourine), Let each of you lift up his voice-- With tabor and cymbal rejoice That you’re not, by some horrible fluke, A highly-strung sensitive Duke ! An over-devotional, Super-emotional, Hyper-chimerical, Extra-hysterical, Wildly-resthetical, Madly phrenetical, Highly-strung sensitive Duke ! You men of.small dealings, of course you've your feelings-' 'l‘here’s no doubt at all about that— . When a dentist exacting your tooth is extracting, You howl like im aristocrat, 166 "HASTE TO THE PVEDD1./VG." But an orphan cock-sparrow, who thrills to the marrow A Duke who is doubly refined . Would never turn paler a petty retailer Or stagger a middle-class mind! So each of you lift up your voice»- With cymbal and tabor rejoice, &c. [Dances to tambourine accompaniment. Enter BABNS. Barns. Your Grace, a gentleman is below who desires to speak with her ladyship. Duke (seizing him by the throat, with startling energy). His name—his name! Do not deceive me, varlet, or I’ll throttle you! ' Barns. I have known your Grace, man and boy,‘ these eighteen months, and I have never told you a lie yet. The gentleman declines to give his name, but he says that he wrote to her ladyship this morning. 1 . Duke. It is he—the falsetto—the supreme Nisnardi! Show him up, and treat him with the utmost courtesy. He can touch an upper G ! ' _ ’ Barns. An upper GI Gad bless me, what a"giftl [Emit in amazement. Enter WO0DrECl{ER timidly. Wood (mistaking the DUKE for a servant). I say—Chawles, come here, my man. Half-a-crown for you. (Gives him money.) Now then, just give this note to her ladyship (gives him a note), there’s a good fellow. Duke (pocketing the coin). In one moment; the Marchioncss will be here directly. In the meantime, permit me to introduce myself-—the Duke of Turniptopshiro! Wood. The what! Duke. The Duke?- Wood. Go on, you’re joking! Duke. Not at all- observe—(Twirls round and postures.) Are you convinced ? - Wood. I am! (Aside) And I took him for a flunkey! I've given a live Duke half-a-crown-—and I‘m going to ask a live Marohioness how much she wants forher hat! I shall never be able to do it! Duke (aside). He speaks English very well, but he’s clearly an Italian, he has such a rummy waistcoat. I’ll draw him out a bit. (Aloud) I’rincess»—pretty feet—' old slippers—ah, you dog! "H/ISTE T' THE WEDDING.” 167 Wood (puzzled). Pretty feet ? . Duke. Yes, pretty feet—pretty little tootsicums! I’ve heard all about it, you see. . Wood (aside). The upper circles appear to have a method of expressing themselves which is entirely and absolutely their own. (Aloud) Could I see the Marchioness? Duke. Yes, I’ll send word to her. Ha! ha! (with deep meaning). .. Songs-—old slippers—flower from a bouquet—three thousand guineas! My dear sir, you’re delicious—you.’re simply delicious! . [Emit DUKE R. Wood. It’s quite clear to me that I shall never be equal to the intellectual pressure of aristocratic conversation. So I’m married at last—really and truly married. On leaving Bella’s, we started for the Church—Maria and I were made one—and now if I can only get the hat from the Marchioness, everything will end happily. (Looking out of window.) There’s the wedding party—in eight cabs—waiting patiently until I come down. I told them—ha! ha !—thatthis was the Piccadilly Hotel, and that I would go up and make arrangements for the wedding breakfast! And they believe it! I hear the Mar— chioness. I hope she got my note. Enter MARCHIONESS B. She approaches him melodramatically. March. Stop—don’t move! Let me gaze upon you until I have drunk you in. Oh! thank you. (WooDrECKER, much astonished emhibits symptoms of ncrvousness—buttoning his coat, putting on his hat and taking it of again.) Ah, you are cold— cold—cold! You are unaccustomed to the rigour of our detest- able climate. . Wood. As you say, it’s a beast of a climate-—— March. Ah, sir, I can offer you an hospitable welcome and an appreciative company, but I cannot—alas! I cannot ofier you an Italian sky! Wood. Pray don’t name it—it’s not of the least consequence. (Aaide.) I never shall understand the aristocracy! March. Ah, Bella Italia! It’s a lovely country ! Wood. It is a dooced lovely country! Oh, I beg pardon! March. What a wealth of Southern emphasis! What Italian fervour of expression! Wood. I—I did myself the honour of writing a note to your ladyship——- March. A most delightful note, and one that I shall always carry about me as long as I live; . Wood. Thank you. (Aside) She’s very polite. (Aloud) In that note I ventured to ask you to grant me a slight favour. I68 “HASTE TO THE WEDDING?’ March. Oh, of course—how extremely dull of me ! Well, you shall have what you want. Wood. Really? March. Really-—though you’re a bold bad man ! . [Turns to bouquet. Wood. At last, at last the hat is mine! I wonder how much she wants for it. Shall I beat her down? N 0, no, you can’t beat down a marchioness ! She shall have her price. March. (giving him a flower). There is the flower you asked for-—bold bad man ! . Wood. A flower? There’s some mistake-—I want an article of attire. March. An article of attire ? Wood. Yes; didn’t you get my note ? Mm.ch. Yes, here it is. [Taking note from her bosom. “ My terms are—a flower from your bouquet—Nisnardi.” Wood. Nisnardi? What’s that? March. Hush, eccentric creature-—niy guests arearriving. Enter BARNs. Barns (announcing). Lord and Lady Popton, Colonel Coke- town, the Marquis of Barnsbury, Lady Pentwistle, the Arch- bishop of Bayswater, and the Duke and Duchess of Deal. [Emit door. Enter LoEn and LADY PorToN, COLONEL COKETOwN, and other guests. March. My dear Duke—my dear Lady Popton—allow me to present to you the incomparable N isnardi! [All bow reverentially to WoonracKEE. Lady P. (crossing to him). And are you really N isnardi? Wood (aside). I must brazen it out. (Aloud.) I am. Lady P. Incomparable falsettist! Wood. (aside). Good heavens, I’m a singer—a falsettist ! Why, I’m a bad baritone ! Lady P. And are you really about to favour us with a specimen of your marvellous talent ? ll/[a/rch. Signor Nisnardi is most kindly going to sing three songs. How delightful ! All. Charming ! What a treat! Wood. (aside). I must get out of this fix at once. (Aloud.) Marchioness, I have a most extraordinary and—I am afraid you will say-—unreasonable request to make. “HASTE .TO THE WEDDING.” 169 March. Oh, name it ! Wood. But it’s a secret! March. Oh, I’m sure our friends will excuse us. [Guests bow, and emeunt R. and L. Wood. Marchioness, I am the slave of impulse ! March. I know you are. Wood. Eh? Oh! Well, it’s a most remarkable thing, but when a whim enters my head, I lose my voice until it is grati- fied. A whim has just entered my head, and listen ! [Grunt March. Heavens, what is to be done? DUET.—WO0DrECKER and MARCHIONESS- Wood. _ The slave of impulse I, Born ’neath the azure sky, Of beautiful Firenze. With fierce desires I brim. Wben I conceive a whim, That whim becomes a frenzy ! . A wish ungratified, Wounds my Italian pride, ~ Like stab of sharp stiletto. My blood is turned to gall ; I cannot sing—I squall, And, this is worst of all-— Away goes my falsetto, My exquisite falsetto ! MAneH. (aside). Wool). Oh, heavens ! should it befall, My blood is turned to gall, My guests it will appal, I cannot sing‘, I squall, If, when assembled all— And, this is worst of all- Away goes his falsetto l Away goes my falsetto, His exquisite falsetto! My exquisite falsetto ! Illarch. Lord of the Upper G, By peers of high degree Assiduonsly courted ; Falsettist all divine, No heaven-sent whim of thine Ought ever to be thwarted. Society should strain Each nerve to spare thee pain, Whatever’s on the tapis .- The impulse I admire That’s born of Southem fire : I know what you r‘quincKEr<- From the Marchioness’s, Whom nobody guesses To be of the rank of a peeress or peer—- In courtesy lacking They sent us all packing, And each with a very fine flea in his ear. Those Johnnies and Jackies The overfed l1wkies They “ went for” the bride and her guests with a rush—- ‘ The combat was heated But we were defeated By msolent armies of powder and plush. “If/ISTE TO THE WEDDING.” I75 And Mister Maguire, Who's raging with ire, Has taken an oath by the powers that he, That restaurant-keeper Shall not close a peeper Until she has published an apologee! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Until she has published an_apo1ogee l Bun. Well, sir, wha’s all that to me, sir? Will you go, sir? Wood. Oh, I see (raising blanket), you’re taking a footbath. Bun. (furious). I won’t listen to you. I’m not well. I’ve got a headache! Who are you ? Wood. Woodpecker Tapping—married this morning : the wedding party is at your door, in eight cabs. “ Bun. I don’t know you, sir! What do you want? Wood. Your wife. Bun. (rising). My wife ! Do you know my wife? Wood. Not at all, but she possesses something that I most anxious to purchase. Bun. We don’t sell it. Will you go? Wood. Not till I’ve seen Mrs. Bunthunder. Bun. She's not at home. [_,S'1,'ngs_ Wood. Nonsense, I know better! I dare say she’s in here—at all events, I mean to look. [WoonrEoEER closes screen round BUNTHUNDER, conceal- ing‘him- from the audience, and leaving his‘ boots outside on his L. WoonrEcKEE then runs into room 3. Bun. He’s a thief! He’s a burglar! Wait one moment- only one moment, until I’ve finished dressing! Enter MAonnzE L., limping. Mag. My son-in-law is a most remarkable person; he invites us to his house, and when we get there, he shuts the door in our faces! Fortunately the lock didn’t catch, and here I am. Now, now I shall be able to take off these confounded tight boots which have been bothering me all day! Bun. (in screen). One moment—only one moment! [Taking his trousers, which.are hanging over the top of the screen. " _ = ' Mag. Hallo, Woodpecker! He’s in here. Ha! (Seeing BUE'1'HUNnEs’s boots.) The very thing; that’s uncommonly lucky! (Takes of his own boots and puts on BUrzTHnNDsRfs.) The very thing ! (They are much too largefor him.) Dear me, what a relief ! [Puts his own boots by screen, where BoE'rnUm)Es’s were. I76 "HASTE TO THE IVEDDI./VG." Bun. (reaching round screen for his boots, and takes MAGUInE’s). Now for my boots-—wait one m0ment‘—only one moment! Mag. I say, my boy, your wife’s below. Bun. Oh, my wife’s below, is she? J ust one moment—I’m nearly ready ! Mag. All right! come up. [Emit MAGUIRE. At the same moment enter BOrADDY. Bun. (in screen). My feet seem much swollen, I can scarcely get my boots on; but no matter. Now, then! (Coming out of screen sees BorAnDY, whom he mistakes for WoonrEoKEn, swings him round.) Now, you scoundrel, I’ve got you ! a B0. D0n’t—I don’t want to dance—l’m quite tired out l I’ll go downstairs and tell them all to Bun. It’s not the same—it’s another of the gang! (Noise heard within.) He’s in there ! [Rushes of R. Bo. Another wedding guest, and in regimentals, tool Dear, dear»-Woodpecker is certainly doing it uncommonly well! [Music, “ Haste to the Wedding.” Enter MAGUIBE, FoonLn, MARIA, and the wedding party, all dancing on in couples. They dance round the stage, and range themselves at back. Mag. That’s right, my dears—stop there, because Woodpecker hasn’t quite finished dressing—he’.s behind the screen, and he won’t be a minute, and you mustn’t look, any of you. (The screen is now open.) Woodpecker, my boy, your wife is here; and while you’re completing your toilet, I'll give you both a bit of matrimonial advice, drawn from my own experience. Sono.—MA<;UmE. If you value a peaceable life, This maxim will teach you to get it: In all things give in to your wife,- I didn’t—1 lived to regret it. My wife liked to govern alone, And she never would share with another ; Remarkably tall and well grown, . She had plenty of muscle and bone, With an excellent will of her own-— And my darling takes after her mother I Oh, if early in life I had happily known How to humour :1 wife With a will of her own, We should not have been snarling All day at each other~ And, remember, my darling Takes after her mother! . “IIASTE T' THE WEDDING." 177 Never wake up her temper,—I did- And smash went a window, instanter ; invariably do as you’re bid,- I didn’t-—bang went a decanter. Give in to each whim,-1 declined—- At my head went a vinegar-cruet. Whatever inducement you find, Never give her advice of a kind That is known as “ a bit of your mind,’’—- I did—and the crockery knew it ! Oh, if early in life I had happily known, dtc. Though her aspect was modest and meek, She could turn on the steam in a minute : Her eru tions went on for a week- esuvius, my boy, wasn't in it. Give your wife of indulgence her fill, Though your meals be unpleasantly scrappy-— Never look at her milliner’s bill ; Gulp down that extravagant pill, And you may, and you probably will, Be bankrupt—and thoroughly happy ! Oh, if early in life I had happily known, c'te. [Mnsic, “Haste to the Wedding.” Wedding party all dance 01?‘. Enter WooorECKEE L., with several hats in one hand, and the specimen in the other. DUET.—WoonraoKEn and BUnrr-rUrmnn. Wood. I've come across hats of all colours and sorts, But none like this specimen, demure ! Enter BUNTHUNDER L. Bun. (seizing him). Thief ! Burglar! Away to the Criminal Courts, With your skeleton keys and your jemmy ! Wood. Excuse me, you’re really mistaken in that- l’ll prove it, if patient you’ll be, sir: This mommg my horse ate a young 1ady’s hat- Bun. Well, what does that matter to me, sir? Wood. But she's now at my lodgings—and leave them she won't Until I’ve produced her another ! Bun. By all that is prudent and proper, why don’t The young lady go home to her mother? Already too long she has tarri.ed—- Why don’t the young widow withdraw? Wood. Young widow? good gracious, she's married, And her husband can claim her by law ! 1v. N “HASTE TO THE WEDDING." 179 ElrssMnm. BUnTHUNDER. Woonrlscrum. Fire and fury ! Cease your fury ! Judge in ermine Judge in ermine (With a jury) My injury Shall determine Shall determine ! How to treat this social wrong, Your remarks are clearly wrong, s1r— sir—- Come along, sir-come along, Much too strong, sir—much too sir! strong, sir! [BlmTHUNDEu drags Woom'rzcKEE of 1.. Music changes to “Haste to the Wedding.” The wedding party enter 0., dance in couples across the stage, after them. BorAnnY last with the doll’: head. SCENE CneNGss. SCENE II.-.—A street, with Square in the distance. A rainy night. WooDrEoKEn’s house L., another house beyond it. Police-station E. A lamp 0. supported by brackets from each side of the stage. A lamp-post L.U.E. Window of first floor of police-station is ‘practicable. Door-steps to Woom>EcKER’s house, a light in one window. A gutter crosses the stage. . [Music, “ Haste to the Wedding.” Wedding party enter from L. U. 11., dancing in couples round stage, with umbrellas up. BOrADDY politely holding umbrella over doll’s head. Hill/llag.1(lg:1d4'rtt_gf lht€}11)’t). ghis way, my friends—this way! a o. 00' on or egu er. [He jumps ovetr _it—all the wedding party follow, jump- ’ing over i in succession. Maria. Oh, papa, where's Woodpecker ? Mag. Eh? Isn’t he here? Why, he has given us _the slip again! ._ . Maria. Papa dear, I’m so tired—I can’t go any farther! [Sits on step of WooDrEcKrm’s house. Food. And my new boots hurt me so that I must sit lc71;zI\;n! . [Crosses and sits er. Mag. (stamping about in Major-General’s boots). Ha, ha! so did mine, but I’ve changed ’em ! ' ‘ Maria. Oh, papa, why did you send away the cabs ? Mag. Why? I’ve paid ’em clcvcn pounds fifteen already- isn’t that enough ‘! But where are we ? All. I don’t know! _ _ . Maria. Woodpecker told us to follow him to his l.ou.e. N0. 8, Little Pickleboy Gardens, Mulberry Square. 180 “fl/1STE TO THE WEDDIIVG.” Mag. Perhaps this is Mulberry Square. (To BorAnDY.) Your great grandfather used to live in London—is this Mulberry Square? i Bo. Yes-—yes, it is—splendid—splendid weather for ducks and peas ! Ha, ha ! Oh, yes—for ducks and peas ! Mag. He’s doting—doting! Enter WrLKmsorr, a policeman. Wilkinson (sneezes). Mag. Here’s a policeman, l’ll ask him. (Very politely.) I beg your pardon, but will you be so polite as to tell me if this is Little Pickleboy Gardens, Mulberry Square ? Willa. (sternly). Move on! [Emit. Mag. And I pay taxes to support that overbearing under- ling! I feed him, I clothe him, I lodge him, and I pay him; and in return he tells me to move on! Insupportable bureau- crat! Food. (who has climbed up lamp-post and read name of street). Hurrah! Little Pickleboy Gardens. It’s all right— here we are ! Mag. And here is No. 8. (To MARIA, who is sitting on the doorstep.) Get up, my dear. Maria. Papa dear, it’s no use—I must sit down somewhere. Mag. N ot in a muddy road, in a thirty-seven and sixpenny wedding dress, my love. Why don’t they come ? [Knocks. Food. There’s a light in the first floor. Mag. Then Woodpecker must have arrived before us. ( Calls.) Woodpecker! Woodpecker! All. Woodpecker! Woodpecker! Enter WmKINsos, R.I.E. Wilkinson (to BorAnnY, who has fallen asleep on step). Now th can't have that noise here! Shak h‘ . M on! , Mdild on, will you? ( .s am) We [Pushing his shoulder, which is muddy. Bip. 'JI.‘ll1lagk ygou, nily deiar friend; don’t you trouble to brush ito " ot atw en goin. , [Emit WILKIN}lSON, L.U.E. JACKSON opens door of WooD- 1‘noKER’s ouse. Mag. Hurrah! Here we are! Come in! [Music commenples “Haste hth; Wedding” as the wed- ing party ance into t e ouse. of {lag}? itpp. ‘(All stop suddenly in arrested attitudes.) Out 1 s 1on,_ " “‘HASTE TO T./[E WEDDING.” I8I Mag. Eh? Jack. Impossible! more than my place is worth. Why, the lady is still upstairs ! [Movement Mag. A lady! What lady ? Jack. The lady who is stopping with master-—the lady without a hat. Mag. A lady stopping with your master! Food. On his wedding-day! ' Maria. And without a hat! [Faints into FoonLs’s arms. Zllag. (furiously). It’s 05! It’s off! I’ll get you divorced, my dear. Foodie shall have you! Food. Maria! . Mag. Come along back to Pettytwiddllm. There’s a train at eleven; we shall just catch it. ' Maria. Oh, papa--—papa Mag. What is it, my child? Maria (tragically). Am I never—never to see Woodpecker again ‘B Mag. Never! ‘ Maria. Woodpecker, whom I loved so fondly, and who was the very music of my little life ? Mag. Never! Maria. Oh! Then hadn’t I better take back my wedding- presents? Mag. My dear, you’re a very sensible girl. To be sure you had. (To JACKSON.) Go and bring out all my daughter’s wedding-presents—mind—every one! [Emit JACKSON into house. . Enter WooDrECKER, as if pursued. All. Here is the monster! Mag. It’s 011"! It’s 011"! You—you serpent! Wood. Hold your tongue—be quiet ! I hear him—he‘s coming! Mag. Who’s coming? Wood. Major-General Bunthunder. (Listening.) No—he’s missed me—he’s got tight boots and he can’t run. There’ll be time to get Leonora out of the house before he arrives. Mag. Ohol So, sir, you own to Leonora? Wood. Of course I own to Leonora! All. Oho! He owns to Leonora! Enter J ACKsou from house with his arms full of wedding- presents, done up in parcels. Jack. Here are the wedding-presents. I82 "fl/1STE .TO THE WEDDI1\lG.” Mag. My friends, let us each take a parcel (JACKSON gives a parcel to each, MAaUmE gets the bandboar given by BorAnDY in Act 1). And now off we go to Pettytwiddllm! ' Wood. What’s all this? . ‘Jack. Wedding-presents, sir. . _ . Wood. Oh, this won’t do! Drop those things directly! . . [All drop their parcels. Mag. Nonsense—pick them all up again! " [All pick up parcels. WoonrECKEE and MAoUmr. struggle for the bandboac. . . Bo. Take care—you’ll crush it! It’s a Leghorn hat worth twenty pounds! Wood. What! Bo. It’s my little present—I’m in the trade. I sent to Florence for it, for my little niece! ‘ Wood. Give it here. (Takes bandbox from MAcUrEE—.-takes out straw hat and compares it withthe fragments.) Good heavens, it's the very thing! Here’s the cockatoo—and the armadillo’s claw—and the mackerel—and the peach-—why, it’s the very thing I've been looking for all day! [Shafes hands with Bor. DY, holding the bandbom under is arm. . Mag. (aside). A hat worth twenty pounds! He sha’n’t have it, the scamp! [Takes hat out of bandbox unobserved, and shuts box again. . . ' Wood. (who believes that the hat is in the bow). Wait one moment-—I’ll give her the hat and then we’ll all go in and enjoy ourselves. . [Emit into house. Mag. (who has watched him of). Now, my friends—off we go to Pettytwiddllm. . _[All going. Enter W1LKrNsoN. Wilk. Hallo! what’s all this? What are you doing with these parcels? . ' Mag. We—we are moving. . . . k Wi'lk.IY;{Vhat! at this time 0’ night? This won’t do, you now- now you. . " -. . Mag. Sir! . r _ Wilk. What have you got here, eh? :1 E lglalglé 'l(‘hat? 01} that’s 21-}? carriage }l%ck.Th , 1 k i . opens mu -bom and nds a mu . ats very i e a carriage clock! Come along-—all on yer, in ‘yer go! [Musz'c, “Haste to the Wedding.” They all dance into . “HASTE TO THE WEADDIAWG.” 183 station-house, except BoPADDY who is walking off slowly, talking to his doll's head. Bo. (to doll's head). It was a nice ickle gal! It was a very nice ickle gal! Don't know that I ever saw a nicer ickle gal! Wilk. (coming out of station-house, crosses to BoPADDY). Now, then—come along—in yer go! - [WILKINSoN taps BoPADDY on the shoulder, and points to station. BoPADDY mildly expostulates, and resumes his flirtation with the doll's head. WILKINsoN seizes him roughly. BoPADDY again remonstrates. WILKINSoN shakes him, BoPADDY suddenly turns furious, flies at WILKINSON, knocks him down, seizes his staff, thrashes him soundly, and finally drags him off triumphantly into station. Enter WooDPECKER, CAPTAIN BAPP, and LEONoRA from house. Wood. Come along, you are saved ! I’ve found the hat! Make haste, put it on and be off before your husband arrives! - [He gives them the band-box. They open it. All. Empty | - Wood. It was there—I’ll swear it was! My old villain of a father-in-law has stolen it! (Enter WILKINsoN from station- house.) Where is my father-in-law? Wilk. Where? Station-'us. . Wood. And my wedding party? Wilk. Station-’us. Run 'em all in. [Exit WILKINsoN. Wood. And they’ve got the hat! What is to be done? Bapp. Wait a moment—I know the Inspector—he'll give it to me if I explain the facts. - - [Exit into station-house. h Bun. (without). Stop! Cabman! Hi! Put me down ere ! - Leo. Heavens! my husband! I'll run and hide in your house! - - - - Wood. Not for worlds! He's coming to search it! . Leo. But what shall I do? - Wood. I know! I'll give you in charge. Hi! policeman. (Re-enter WILKINsoN.) Take this woman away. Drunk and disorderly. [Tipping him. Wilk. (R. crosses to her). What, agin? Come along-I know yer! [Walks her into s' ". Enter BUNTHUNDER, hobbling. Bun. So, here you are! Open your door! . I brains out, and your brains out, and my own brains .24 “1/Asm ro res WEDDI./VG." Wood. By all means—only take me last! [Emit BoETHoNDEE into house. [CArTAIN BArr appears at window of station-house, first floor. Bapp. Quick! quick! here’s the hat! Wood. Throw it out—make haste! _ [BArr throws hat, which rests on the lamp—;7'ust out of reach. Wood. Confound it! [Tries to unhook it with his umbrella, but in vain. Re-enter BUN'1‘l‘lUNDER from house. Bun. She’s not there! Forgive me, l’ve been unjust! Wood. You have. Come under my umbrella. [Talees BUNTr1UEnER’s arm, and puts up umbrella to conceal hat. They both stand under the lamp. Bun. No, no—it doesn’t rain! Put the umbrella down. It’s quite fine overhead. Wood. But it’s so wet underfoot. Bun. That’s true. l’ve made a great _fool of myself, sir. Wood. You have. [He jumps to unhook the hat with his umbrella, and makes BUrrTHUunER jump too. Bun. I apologize, sir. Wood. I think you should, sir. [Jumps. Bun. Forgive me, sir. Wood. I do, sir. [Jumps. Bun. What are you jumping for? Wood. Violent cramp—indigesti0n. Can’t help it-—always takes me so. Bun. Indeed! Have you tried—-- (WoonrECKER jumps again and comes down on BUNTHUNDER’s toes.) Don’t, sir! I won’t be trodden on by bridegrooms! Enter LEONORA from station, followed by MAoUmE, BomnDY, and all the guests—one_of whom unhooks the hat, which falls to the ground.‘ Mag. It’s all right—it’s all right! The Captain has squared the Inspector, and we leave the Court without a stain on our characters! Oh, it’s a great country ! FINALE. Cuorws. Free, free ! Hurrah ! Free free ! Hurrah! False charges fride into thin air-— (This is a great Countree !) - .- \" ’. '‘ ’ o . ; . . - 1 . _. - . - . ’ . ‘ -‘ ’ ‘ . . - < .- " . . . " . . ‘" . . . _J " - . .. ’.‘ "‘: .’ FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, THE wiCKED worLD. FALLEN FAI RIES; _ on, THE WICKED WORLD. ACT I. ScE>rE.—Fairyland, which for the purposes of the play, is sup- posed to be situate on the upper side of a clonal which floats over the earth. The scene represents a land of ideal beauty, with fountains, trees, waterfalls, the. At L. is the Fairy Queen's bower. DARINE and LocnmE are discovered on an eminence R.c., up stage, which overlooks gap in the cloud. Locrine. Oh, world below! Oh, wicked world, Where sin and woe Lie all unfurled ! Oh, world of shame, Of guilt and greed, Where joy in name Is woe indeed! May angels‘ tzts be shed on thee, Thou wicked world of misery ! [As LOCRINE sings, Fairies enter from diferent approaches and fill the stage, NEonns, ZAYDA, CoEA, LILA, and others leading them. Enter DARINE. Som. Darine. Oh, picture to thyself a mortal crew Sinning throughout their lives, as demons do ! Fierce wild barbaric shapes, all foul within- Howling with hunger for more sin—more sin ! 190 FALLEN FA IRIE S ; OR, Chorus. Neodie (re Selene. Zuydu. Fierce wild barbaric shapes, All head and tail ; Some like red raving apes, Some clad in scale ; Others like dead-fleshed ghouls With horny eyes, Squatting on black toadstools Of monstrous size ! All of them foul without and foul within ; All glimmering in the lurid light of sin ! All of them fonl without and foul‘ Within ; All glimmering in the lurid light of sin ! ciz.). Selene comes ; as silvery moon serene, Radiant with lovelmess, our sister-Queen ! Enter: SsLEms. Cnorws. Pure as the air, sweet as the morning dew, Cometh our Queen ! Bright in all eyes as Heaven's ethereal blue, Cometh our Queen! Spirit of love! as thou hast ever been, Be to us evermore, oh sister-Queen l Unsullied source Of tranquil joy, Pursue thy course Of pure employ- Be thou, as thou hast ever been, Our all-beloved sister-Queen! Dear sisters, I bring news. Ere very long, Lutin, who, by the will of that great king To whom we all yield faithful suzerainty, Left Fairyland to join him in mid-earth, Will home return. He is the only one Of our immortal race Who has set foot upon that wicked world! Lutin returning! He will set at rest Our wild and wondering theories, and reveal, In picture-painting words, the demon deeds Of all the goblin murder-mongers that Infest that sink of seething infamy! Enter ETHAIs, a male Fairy, followed by PHYLLON, another Ethais. male Fairy. In truth, dear sister, if Man’s face and form Were a true index to his character, He were a fearsome thing to look upon. 192 FALLEJVFAIRIES ; ox, Darine. We to ascertain are eager All the ills that did beleaguer And assail thy mortal portals Whilst thou wast among the mortals. F leta. Didst thou join in_all their revels? Drink and dance with all their devils? Didst thou see, with awestruck daring, Dicer dicing, swearer. swearing ? Zayda. Didst thou watch, with sorrow sobbing, Liar lying, robber robbing, Drinker drinking, gorger gorging, Pinker pinking, forger forging? Locrine. Cooer cooing, biller billing, Wooer wooing, killer killmg, Prater prating, blabber blabbing, Hater hating, stabber stabbingi All four. Kicker kicking, beater beating, Sticker sticking, cheater cheatmg ? Tell us all that did befall— Tell us some and tell us all ! Chorus. Tell us all that did befall-— Tell us some and tell us all ! Didst thou join in all their revels? Didst thou dance with all their devils ? Didst thou watch, with sorrow sobbing, Liar lying, robber robbing? &c. Tell us all that did befall- Tell us some and tell us all ! Latin (rcit.). What ! tell you all? Not so ! All that down there occurred? ’Twould numb your souls with awe— You know not what you ask! Describe you all I know? Repeat you all I heard? Narrate you all I saw? God save me "from such a task! One tale I'll try to tell—it will suffice To illustrate their tendency to vice! Sonc. —Lutin. Latin. One incident I’ll tell that will appal Each gentle little heart and head. Come, fairies, gather round me, one and all—- (The details to impart I dread !) A tale to cause a demon’s flesh to creep, And absolutely shock his ears ; _ 'TXould silinimon tears to eyes that never weep, nd me t a re rock to tears! Chorus. ’Twonld melt a iigry rock to tears ! Latin. So horribly bad that tale appears, It’s scarcely fit for fairy spheres; ’Twould outrage e’en a demon's ears- And I’m going to tell it to you, my dears l . THE WICKED woxzp. I93 Chorus (in great delight). He's going to tell it to us, my dears Lutin. Although 'twill make your blood run cold, The terrible details I’ll unfold ! Chorus. So horribly bad that tale appears, It's scarcely fit for fairy spheres; 'Twould outrage e'en a demon's ears- Lutin. And I’m going to tell it to you, my dears : There was a gallant knight of Portugee, Who loved a Moorish maid so well That he took ship and sailed for Barbaree (That's where the little jade did dwell). He journeyed o'er the stormy sea apace (Of nothing was that knight afraid), And when at last they met in an embrace, What do you think that naughty maiden said? Chorus. We wonder what the little hussy said : Lutin. She said—but no, their dark careers Would shock your souls and draw your tears; They're quite unfit for decent ears— And I'm hanged if I'll tell 'em to you, my dears! Chorus (*# e'll be hanged if he'll tell 'em to us, my dears! Lutin. First thoughts are silver-second, gold; And I'm sorry to say that they can't be told ! Chorus (vered). His tale is cast in mocking mould- He says it is both bad and bold; We hoped for details, and behold— Lutin and Chorus. # sorry to say that they can't be told ! ETHAIs and PHYLLON enter. Lutin. Attend. Obedient to our King's command, I met him in mid-earth. He bade me send Both Ethais and Phyllon down below. Ethais. Down to mid-earth? Lutin. Down to mid-earth at once. He hath some gift, some priceless privilege, With which he would endow our fairy world, And he hath chosen Phyllon and thyself To bear his bounty to this home of ours. 2ayda. Another boon? Why, brother Ethais, What can our monarch give that we have not? Phyllon. In truth I cannot say! ... 'Twould seem that we Had reached the sum of fairy happiness! Selene. But then we thought the same before our K Endowed us with the gift of melody; And now how tame our fairy life would seem IV. O 194 ‘FALLEN FAIRIES ; OR, Ethais. Selene. Were melody to perish from our land! Well said, Selene. Come, then, let’s away, And on our journey through the outer air We will take note of its inhabitants And bring you full account of all we see. Farewell, dear sisters—- Brothers, fare ye well ! [ETmus and PHYLLON take leave of the 1¢'airies and Zayda. Darine. Selene. Emit Lrrrm. Now here’s a riddle that I cannot solve :- Why do these mortals bear their weight of woe When they can end it at their will? They need Not live unless they like. Nevertheless, With swords and daggershanging at their sides, With drowning seas and rivers at their feet, With deadly poisons in their very grasp, Men live, and live— and seem to like to live! How strangely inconsistent l _ Not at all. With all their misery—with all the sin-— With all the elements of wretchedness That teem on that.unholy world of theirs, They have one great and ever-glorious gift That compensates for all they have to bear! descend through the gap in the cloud. Soxc.—SrsL1<:NE. With all the misery, with all the shame That stain the earth, . One holy influence these mortals claim—- A gift of priceless worth ! The gift of L0ve——shield against deadly foes That crowd in serried shoals— — A Love that's anodyne to all the woes That wring their souls ! Oh,.kindly Love ! Man sorrowing and oppressed, . Beneath his load of shame would surely fall, But for the sweet enchantment in his breast That tells him that he bears no load at all! In its most pure and most enduring form It knows no end ; To deed of shame or stress of worldly storm Such love will never bend. Time cannot wither it, nor Death destroy; When the relentless Thief Has robbed it of the power to live on joy, It lives on grief l . THE. WICKED WORLD. 195 Oh, wondrous Love-—pure as the silver sky ! Even when Death has set the loved one free, This love supernal doth not—cannot die ; It lives upon the loved one’s memory ! [During this song, the Fairies, who at the commencement were scattered over the stage, have very gradually crept nearer and nearer to her, until, at the finish, they are grouped closely around her. ‘ Darine. Why, what have we in all our Fairyland To bear comparison with such a gift! Zayda. Oh for one hour of such a love as that, O’er all things paramount! Why, after all, That wicked world is the true Fairyland! Zara. Why, who can wonder that poor, erring Man Clings to the world, all poisoned though it be, When on it grows this glorious antidote! Zayda. And may we neverlove as mortals love? Selene. No, that can never be. Of earthy things, This love of theirs ranks as the earthliest. We do not need it in our perfect land. Moreover, there’s this gulf ’tween it and us—- Only a mortal can inspire such love, And mortal foot may never touch our land. Zayda. But—is that so ? Selene (surprised). Of course! Zayda. Yet I have heard That there’s a half-forgotten law which says That, when a fairy quits his fairy home To visit earth, those whom he leaves behind May summon from that wicked world below That absent fairy’s mortal counterpart, And that that mortal counterpart may stay In Fairyland and fill that fairy’s place Till he return. Is there not some such law? Selene (horrified). And if there were, wouldst put that law in force? Zayda (frightened). N.o, not for all the love of all the world ! Selene. A man in Fairyland! Oh, horrible ! He would exhale the poison of his soul, And we should even be as mortals are- Hating as man hates! I96 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, Darirze (enthusiastically). Loving as man loves! [SsLEsE looks at her in blank sm'_m"is»:. Too horrible! Still-— Selene. W611? I see a trace Da/rine. Of wisdom lurking in this ancient law. Selene. Where lurks that wisdom, then ? I see it not! DUET.-—DARINE AND ZAYDA. Man is a being all accuse Of every vice detestable : To virtue blinded, he pursues A course that’s unarrestable. Yet if we let one man of shame Observe our lives immaculate, He would (returning whence he came) Ecstatically ejaculate- “ Atone, stone! Repent, repent! The pure alone Know true content ! ” These tidings good, N 0 doubt, he would Ecstatically ejaculate! The news would take the world by storm, And be received with welcome warm ; Those words he would, in some such form, Ecstatically ejaculate ! Man is a brute, oppressed by strange Unintellectuality : Enlighten him, and you will change His normal immorality. If we exhibited to some Our course of life delectable, They might in course of time become Comparatively respectable ! Oh, picture then Our joy sublime, If mortal men Became in time-— Suppose we say, In guarded way, Comparatively respectable ! Chorus. The news would take the world by storm, And be received with welcome warm, And all would be by this reform Comparatively respectable ! Darine. Chorus. Zayda. 1/#15 WICKED WORLD. 197 Selene (reflectively). There is some truth in this. Zayda. Some truth indeed ! Oh, terrible, dear sister, to reflect That to our cold and culpable neglect ‘ All mortal follies may be chargeable ! Selene (surprised). To our neglect? Darine. It may in truth be so ! Fleta. In very truth I’m sure that it is so! Selene (after a pause). It shall be so no more! Their sin is ours! But there—’tis easy still to make amends. A mortal shall behold our sinless state, And learn the beauties of our blameless life. Come, let us summon mortal Ethais ! [All delighted. Darine. But- Selene. Not a word—l am resolved to this l Darine. But, sister- Selene. Well ? Darine (timidly). Why summon only one ? Selene. Why summon more? Darine. The world’s incredulous; Let two be summoned to our sinless home; Then should their wondrous story be received With ridicule or incredulity, One could corroborate the other. Zayda. Yes. Phyllon has gone with Ethais—let us call The mortal counterpart of Phyllon too ! Selene. Two mortals! Two unhappy men of sin In this untainted spot ! Locrine. Well, sister dear, Two Heralds of the Truth will spread that Truth At the least twice as rapidly as one ! Selene. Two miserable men! Why, one alone Will bring enough pollution in his wake To taint our happy land from end to end! Zayda. Then, sister, two won’t make the matter worse ! Selene. There’s truth in that! [After a pause. The two shall come to us! [All the Fairies are delighted. SELENE looks re- provingly at them, and they at once become demure. 198 PALLEAV FAIRIES; OR, (Severely) We have deserved this fearful punishment ! - [All the Fairies sigh. Our power, I think, is limited to two ? Locrine. Unfortunately | Selene, Yes. More might be done Had each of us a pupil to herself. SCENA.—SELENE. And now to summon them. But, sisters dear, Receive our guests with gracious courtesies. Show no repugnance to them while they're here; Subdue your natural antipathies. Kind, gentle, tender, pitiful be ye— Be not severe, nor hastily condemn. Treat them as though they were what they will be When they have seen what we shall be to them! All. We'll act as though they were what they will be When they have seen what we shall be to them : Selene. What form of words accomplishes our aim ? Darine. Two roses shall be cast down from the skies, Then, as each rose is thrown, pronounce the name Of him whose mortal self it typifies, [Giving her two roses. Selene (taking them). ell then, fair rose, I name thee “Ethais"— Thy mortal counterpart we summon here. This rose is Phyllon-come to our realms of bliss: By virtue of this talisman, appear! All. Go, then, fair rose. We name thee “Ethais”— Thy mortal counterpart we summon here. Sir Phyllon, in our realms of blameless bliss, By virtue of this talisman appear! [Hurried music. SIR ETHAIs and SIR PHYLLON rise through the gap in the cloud, as though violently *mpelled from below. They are two handsome, barbaric Hunnish knights, clad in picturesque skins and rude armour, and while bearing a strong facial resemblance to their Fairy counterparts, present as strong a contrast as possible in their costume and demeanour. Their swords are drawn, the knights having been interrupted in a duel. The Fairies conceal themselves behind trees. RECIT. AND DUET.—SIR ETHAIs and SIR PHYLLON. Ethais. By god and man, who brought us here, and how? Phyllon. Where in the name of witchcraft are we now * - THE WICKED WORLD, 199 Ethais (fiercely). Why, who should answer that as well as thou? Phyllon (surprised). - As I? Ethais. • Aye, devil's whelp, as thou! DUET.—SIR ETHAIs and SIR PHYLLON. Ethais (fiercely). This is some wizardry of thy design To save thy sconce 1 Thou scurvy dog, no sorcery of thine Shall serve e'en for the nonce : Let all thy hell-hounds howl their requiem, And when I've done with thee I'll do with them | Phyllon (savagely). Bah! £ed no such devil-begotten stuff To flog a knavel This trusty falchion serves me well enough To make a coward cravel Though demons swarm in myriads round about, Or here or there we'll fight our quarrel out ! [They fight. The Fairies, half concealed behind portions of the set, watch the combat with great interest. Darine. What are they doing? Selene. It's some game of skill. It's very pretty. Darine. Wery. [Knights pause to take breath. Oh, they’ve stopped ! Phyllon. Come, come-on guard | - Zayda. Now they begin again [They fight. Ethais (seeing Fairies, who have gradually surrounded him). Hold, we are overlooked ! [ETHAIs, who has turned for a moment in saying this, ts severely wounded in the right arm. Selene. You may proceed, We like it much ! Darine. You do it very well. Begin again! Ethais. Black curses on that thrust! I am disabled ! Ladies, bind my wound— And, if it please you still to see us fight, We'll fight for those bright eyes and cherry lips Till one or both of us shall bite the dust! Phyllon (aside to ETHAIs). Hold ! Call a truce till we return to earth— -- bright eyes enough for both of us ! 200 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, Ethais. I don’t know that ! Well, there, till we return-— ' [Shaking hands. ‘But, once on earth again, we will take up Our argument where it was broken 015", And let thy devils whirl me where they may We’ll reach conclusion and corollary ! [During this the Fairies show that they have been very strongly influenced by the two knights. Darine (gazing at PHYLLON). Oh, fairyhood! How wonderfully like our Phyllon! Selene (gazingjin rapture at ETHAIS). Yes ! And see—how strangely like our Ethais! (Sighing.) Thou hast a gallant carriage, gentle knight! Ethais. It’s little wonder that I’m like myself! Why I am he ! Selene (sighing). No, not our Ethaisl Ethais. In truth I am the Ethais of all Who are as gentle and as fair as thou ! Selene (tenderly). . '1‘hat’s bravely said! Thou hast a silver tongue ! Why, what can gods be like if these be men? [During this DABINE, ZAYDA, Looama, and other Fairies show, by their manner, that they take a tender interest in ETHus and PHYLLON. Say, dost thou come from earth or heaven? Ethais (gallantly placing his arm round SELENE and DAEma). I think l’ve come from earth to heaven ! Selene (delightedly to ZAYDA). Oh, didst thou hear ? He comes from earth to heaven ! N 0, Ethais, We are but fairies : this, our native home- Our fairyland-—rests on a cloud which floats Hither and thither as the breezes will. We see the world ; yet, saving that it is A very wicked world, we know it not. ' But on the lands o’er which our island hangs We shed fair gifts of plently and good-will, Drop tears of love upon the thirsty earth And shower fair water on the growing grain. This is our mission. Phyllon. ’l‘ a goodly one! But tell me now—why have you summoned us ? Selene. Because we seek to teach you solemn truths That now ye wot not of, poor gentlemen! (Tenderly.) Poor gentlemen! Poor wayward gentlemen ! THE PVICKED PVORLD. 201 Sosa.-—Ss1.ams. Poor, purblind, untaught youths, We seek to teach ye truths Which now ye wot not of, as we suppose! Our aid ye sorely need, For ye are frail indeed- Each a poor fragile reed Swayed to and fro by every breeze that blows ! [Taking his hand and stroking it tenderly. And we are good and pure, Safe from temptations lure. (There are no tempters to disturb our rest!) Unknown the fierce delights That lure attractive knights ‘ Into disastrous plights ! (Aside to ZAYDA.) They are attractive, it must be confessed ! All. Though worldly passions animate each breast, They are attractive, it must he confessed ! Selene. Poor maidens to deceive A potent spell ye weave, To which those all-too-willing victims yield ! . [Kissing his hand. We fairies hope to show The ills that from it flow, And teach you to forego The marvellous enchautment that ye wield. [Gently stroking his face. Homeward returning then, Pure, simple, guileless men, Warn all poor maids with whom ye are in touch (Would they live free from harm) To shun, in wild alarm, Your strange mysterious charm ! (Aside to ZAYDA, siyhing.) The maids may shun it, but I doubt it much. All. Would ye escape the plights That spring from love's delights, Shun all attractive knights ! (Aside to each other, sighirzg.) The maids may do so, but I doubt it much! [During S1sLENE’s song and the chorus, DARrNE, ZAYDA, and others have been dealing tenderly with PHYLLON. All show that they are deeply impressed by the two knights. ENSEMnLE.—SlR ETHAIS and Sm PmrLLoE (nudging each other). Phyllon. With keen remorse We tell you penitentially, Our lives are coarse And villainous essential1y—- 202 FALLEN FAIRIES ; OK, But bred and born In pagan Principality, We view with scorn Our former immorality. Etlzais. Of blameless state We've hope infinitesimal (We calculate Its value to a decimal), Unless at once You give, experimentally, Each wayward duncc A polish-up, parentally ! Phyllon (to ETHAIS). This humble pie ls but a tough comestible W'hich he and I Find rather indigestible ! Ethais (to SELENE). That's just his way— An ill-bred Oriental man. Forgive him, pray-— Of course he's not a gentleman ! Phyllon. My penitence Perhaps is unconventional. Ethais (to SELENE). Don't take ofl’ence-— I’m sure it's unintentional. Both. We both are bound For fairy course probational ; So pray expound Your system educational l TRIO.-—DARINE, ZAYDA, and Loonum. Oh, gentle knights, with joy elate, We’ll teach you to abjure All earthly dross, and cultivate The blameless and the pure ! Be docile pupils in our school, While we, with earnest heart, Of all that's good and beautiful The principles impart ! RECI'1‘.-—SELENE. . If my obedient pupils you would be, ' You must avow your loyalty to me. No doubt you recognize Some formula, word-wise, That binds your heart in solemn fealty? CoUrLETs.—Sm ETmus and SELENE. Ethais. When homage to his Queen a subject shows (A Queen that’s duly crowned), He puts his arm around That monarch’s waist—like this, [Doing so. And plants a very long and tender kiss THE WICKED WORLD. 20; Sometimes upon her cheeks of creamy rose, But, preferably, just below the nose! ' Chorus. There is some reason—s0 we must suppose— “lhy preferably, just below the nose? Phyllon. A still more binding process I propose: For though no doubt it’s true 0ne formal kiss might do, Administered like this, [Kissing DAmur. on cheek. The pledge works more effectively, I wis, When several dozen kisses he bestows- Placed preferably just below the nose! Chorus. I hope he'll tell us all before he goes Why preferably just below the nose ? Dririne (aside to SELEsa). ' A simple kiss a simple friendship shows. ’Tis an insipid thing That no delight can bring, Placed on the brow—like this. . [Kisses SELENE’s brow. Yet on these gentle knights’ hypothesis Some unexpected virtue ’twill disclose, Placed preferably just below the nose! Chorus. Some explanation certainly he owes—- Why preferably just below the nose? Selene. Our outlook widens as experience grows. That form is quite unknown In our ethereal zone- A kiss is but a kiss. Yet if these knights be surely bound by this, There is no need to ask them to disclose Why preferably just below the nose? Chorus. Still there’s some reason—s0 we must suppose—— Why preferably just below the nose. Selene. That form is not in vogue in Fairyland. Still, as it holds on earth, no doubt ’twill have Far greater weight with you, poor sons of earth, Than any formula we could impose. Ethais. Its weight is overpowering! [About to kiss her. Selene. But stay—- We would not wrest this homage from you, sir. Or give it willingly, or not at all. Phyllon. Most willingly, fair Queen, we give to you! Selene. Good—then proceed. [Sm ETHAIS kisses SaLEsE. Sm PnvLLoN kisses DARINE. 204 FALLEN FA IRIES ; OR, Ethais. There—does it not convey A pleasant sense of influence? Selene. It does. ( To DARINE.) Some earthly forms seem rational enough! [SIR ETHAIS staggers as though about tofaivzt. Why, Ethais, what ails thee? _ Et/zais. Nothing grave— I’m weak from loss of blood. Here, take this scarf, And bind it round my arm—so—have a care! There, that will do till I return to earth, Then -Lutin, who's a very skilful leech, Shall doctor it. Selene (amazed). Didst thou say Lutin? Ethais. Yes. Darine. How strange. Sir Ethais has a Lutin tool LUTIN has entered unobserved. Ethais. Yes, he’s my squire—a poor half-witted churl, Who shudders at the rustling of a leaf. He hath a potion that will heal my wound, A draught whose power works instantaneously. Were he here I should soon- [Sees FAIRY LUTIN, who has entered unobserved. Why, here he is! By all the gods, pranked out in masquerade! (To LUTIN.) Give me the potion! Latin (in amazement). Give thee what? Ethais (impatiently). The draught! Dost thou not see my wound? Lutin (contemptuously). I have no draught! Ethais. Thou scurvy rogue, 1 bade thee never leave thy home without it! Thy hide shall pay! Lutin. Who is this insolent ? A mortal here in Fairyland ? Locrine. Yes—two ! Lutin. Who are these men? . Selene. The mortal counterparts Of Ethais and Phyllon. Look at them! . . Dost thou not love them? Imtin (indignantly). N o! Cora. How very strangel . Why, we all loved them from the very first! THE WICKED WORLD. 205 Lutin. Is this indeed the truth? Darine (demurely). It is indeed. Obedient to our Queen’s command, we have Subdued our natural antipathies. [Fondling PHYLLON. Zayda (demurely). They are our guests, all odious though they be, And we must bid them welcome to our home, As though e’en now they were what they will be When they have seen what we shall be to them. [Fondling PHYLLON. Lutin. Be warned in time and send these mortals hence! Why, don’t you see that in each word they speak They breathe of Love ? Selene (enthusia-stically). They do ! Lutin. Why, Love’s the germ Of every sin that stalks upon the earth! Sosa.-LUrm. ‘ The warrior, girt in shining might, Knows, as he bares his sword, That, should he murderously fight, And cut and thrust and slash and smite (No matter wrong, no matter right), Love will be his reward. The footpad nerves his coward arm With draughts of mead and mull, And stupefies his s0ul’s alarm, And all his stealthy dread of harm, By pondering on the tipsy charm Of some poor tavern trull ! Oh, Love’s the source of every ill ! Compounded with unholy skill, It proves, disguise it as you will, A gilded but a poisoned pill ! Love instigates the brawler bold ; For love the lover lies ; The miser hoards ill-gotten gold To buy the prize, so lightly sold, That looks so warm yet burns so cold— The love of two bright eyes ! For lawless love the wife elopes, And blights her husband’s lot ; For love denied the moper mopes, 'l‘o toast his love the tnper topes, With heavy heart the hoper hopes For love that loves him not ! Oh, Love’s a poison foul and fleet, Nor is its horror less complete Because, with devil-born deceit, It looks so fair and tastes so sweet ! 206 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, RscITATrvE. Zayda (to ETHAIS). Nay, heed him not! A tale has reached our ears That man is infamous in high degree, And he believes it—so indeed did we, Till we beheld you, gallant cavaliers! Darine (to SELENE). Send him to earth—then we can summon here l‘lis mortal counterpart! [SELENE looks at her reprovingly. DARINE changes .he- ton e. Another reed No doubt who stands in very sorest need Of virtuous counselling and guidance clear! Selene. Well said, Dariue! Thy words are words of worth. Lutin, begone at once! Ethais. Return to earth! Insolent varlet, get thee quickly hence! Lutin. Oh, mortal plague! Oh, walking pestilence! Listen and learn, Oh, incarnation of uncleanliness! SONG.—LUTIN. Hark ye, you sir ! On yonder ball You’ve Kings and Queens to whom you fall, And humbly cringe and creep and crawl, Cast dust and ashes too your head upon, That they some civil word may say to you. Well, sir, there's not a King on earth, There's not a Prince of royal birth, Who would not barter all he’s worth To lick the very dust I tread up0n- And I’m the meanest here! Good day to you ! [LUTIN goes up stage and prepares to descend. CnonUs. Good day, to you-- Away, to you— That’s all we have to say to you. Don’t stay, to you— Delay, to you—- Dcnn' hurry back, we pray to you. Away, to you— Good day to you.- Away ! Good day ! [LUTIN descends. The Fairies then turn to Sir: Emma and Sz1 PnYLLON. THE IVICKED WORLD. 207 EEsmmus. Fumes. Oh, gallant gentlemen, You see our plight ; Take pity on us, then, And give us light ! Our prayer—ah ! do not spurn—- This we beseech : We brought you here to learn—- Stay ye to teach ! We foolish fairies thought Your guides to be, But we are all untaught, As ye may see. Oh, gallant gentlemen, You see our plight, Take pity on us, then, And give us light! Take pity on us, list to our appeal As humble suppliants at your feet we kneel ! Oh, grant this prayer, all other prayers above : Teach us, oh, gallant gentlemen, to love! ErHArs and Pl-IYLLON to each other. As "allant gentlemen, We see their plight ; We will take pity, then, And give them light! Their p‘rayer we will not spurn, So t ey beseech : They brought us here to learn—- We'll stay to teach ! These foolish fairies thought Our guides to be, But they are all untaught, As we may see. As gallant gentlemen, (to Fairies) We seek your plight ; We will take pity, then, And give you light! In pity, then, we list to your appeal As humble suppliants at our feet you kneel ! We’ll grant your prayer, all other prayers above, And show how gallant gentlemen can love. [Some of the Fairies kneel at the feet of the knights, SELENE embracing Sm ETHus; DARINE, ZAYDA, and Loonama hanging on Sm PuYLLo1'1’s neck. The remaining Fairies are grouped in attitudes of ent-reaty at the feet of the two knights. ACT II. Same scene by moonlight. The Fairies, all but SELENE and DARINE, are discovered dis- contentedly watching the entrance to SELEN1c’s bower. CuonUs. For many an hour Within her bower With Ethais philandering, Our excellent Queen No doubt has been In roseate dreams meandering» 208 FALLEN FAIRIES; 01?, As a matter of fact A risky act, So obviously detectab1e— So very unfit We must admit Is anything but respectable ! A Fairy Queen who dares conventionality despise, To put it very mildly, is exceedingly unwise. Here is an act to which we cannot close our eyes, And must excite our indignation and surprise. Fleta (dialogue). Locrine. Zctyda. Chorus. Zag/da. Chorus. Still, still Selene watches Ethais! For six long hours has she detained the knight Within the dark recesses of her bower, Under pretence that his unhappy wound Demands her unremitting watchfulness! This, fairies, is our Queen—the sinless soul To whose immaculate pre-eminence We, pure and perfect maidens of the air, Accord our voluntary reverence! She is unfit to rule us as our Queen! Her conduct is an outrage on her sex! Was it for this that we proposed to her To bring these erring mortals to our land ? Is this the way to teach a sinful man The moral beauties of a spotless life? Surely this knight might well have learnt on earth Such mortal truths as she is teaching him! SOXG.—ZAYDA. I never profess to make a guess—- That smacks of perspicacity-— Prophetical flight, my dears, is quite A cut above my capacity ; But such a barefaced display of taste For military society, ' The veriest dunce would deem at once A horrible impropriety ! _ A horrible impropriety ! I always view The acts unwise My sisters do With kindly eyes. But, truth to tell, Such conduct-—well, lt smacks of impropriety ! It smacks of impropriety ! THE WICKED WoRzp. 209 Zayda, Chorus. Zayda. Zayda. Chorus. Zayda. Chorus. Zayda. Chorus. Zayda. Fleta (aside). Selene. Though it seems odd, And may offend, To kiss the rod I don't intend. It wrong I call To kiss at all ! A capital rule of life, my friend! Was it for this to realms of bliss We summoned such rascality? Is this the way to teach him, pray, The truths of pure morality? With wiles demure his love she'll lure, Caressing and beseeching him ! No need to journey here to learn Such truths as she is teaching him ! Such truths as she is teaching him Though sure we are That every youth Should travel far To learn the truth, IIe might, with care, Have learnt, down there, Such truths as she is teaching him ! Such truths as she is teaching him ! You do not think Me too severe ? We should not wink At faults, it's clear- We should not wink At all, I think. A capital rule of life, my dear! Enter SELENE from bower. At last she comes. (To SELENE.) We are relieved to find That after such a lengthy vigil thou Canst tear thyself away from Ethais ! Yes, he is sleeping now, but all day long He tossed and raved in wild delirium, Shouting for arms, and, as it seemed to me, Fighting his fight with Phyllon o'er again. I watched him through the long and troubled ho- Fanning the fever from his throbbing brow Till he awoke. At first he gazed on me In silent wonderment; then, suddenly, Seizing my hand, he pressed it to his lips IV. 210 FALLEN FAIRIES ,- OR, And vowed that I had saved him from the grave! Mark that—the grave! I—I had saved his life! He told me that he loved me-—loved me well-— That I had holy angel-eyes that rained A gentle pity on his stubborn heart- That I was fairer in his worldly eyes Than all the maids on earth or in the clouds! Zayda (spitefnlly). Could any words more eloquently show The reckless of his delirium ? Selene (surprised). Nay, he was conscious then. _ Fleta (very sweetly). No doubt he was. But, sister, in thy triumph recollect He scarce had seen us. Zayda. Thou hast wisely done To keep us out of sight. Cage thou thy bird Or he may fly to fairer homes than thine! Selene (amazed). What mean you, sisters ? Nay, turn not away! What have I done ? Locrine (spitefully). Indeed we do not know; But, lest we should affect his love for thee, We will at once withdraw ! [Emit LocEINE curtesying ironically. Leila (politely). Good night to you! Emit curtesying. Neodie. Good night! Emit curtesying. Zayda. Good night! Remember, cage thy bird! [Eaeeunt all curtesg/ing. Selene. How strangely are my sisters changed tome! Have I done wrong? No, no, I’m sure of that! The knight was sorely stricken—he had died But for my willing care! Oh, earthly Love, Thou mighty monarch, holding in thy grasp The holiest balm and most enduring woe, Is it for good or ill that thou art here ? ETHAIS has entered unperceined from the bower. He is very pale and weak, and his arm is in a sling. Ethais. Selene, I am weak; give me thine hand. [She goes to him. Selene. My love, thou shouldst not yet have left thy couch. Come,‘ thou hast need of rest.- THE WICKED I/VORLD. 211 Efliuis. No, let me stay. The air revives me; I am strong again. And so thou trustest me? Selene. ' ‘ In truth I clo Although I cannot tell thee whence proceeds This strange, irrational belief in thee—- Thee, whom I hardly know ! Ethais. I see no marvel! Selene. Nay, my love—reflect: ' I am a woman, and thou art a man. Well, thou art coIne1y—so, in truth, am I. We meet and love each other—that’s to say, I am prepared to give up all I have, My home, my very fairyhood for thee- Thou to surrender riches, honour, life, To please the fleeting fancies of my will. And why? Because I see in thee, or thou in me, Astounding virtue, brilliant intellect, Great self-denial, venerable years, Rare scholarship or shining godliness? N 0 ! Because, forsooth, we’re comely specimens, Not of our own, but Nature’s industry! BALLAn.—SELEns. Thy features are fair and seemly- _ A god among mortal men: 1’m beautiful, too, extremely— Granting all this, what then? The cause is beyond my ken. I blindly thus reply: “ Suppose we were fated To be separated, Assuredly I should die ! " Oh, thine is the giving Of dying or living ! I w onder, wonder why ? Selene and Ethais. _ _ . The cause 15 beyond our ken, etc. A being of radiance rarer Is the Sun in his golden noon ; Beyond comparison fairer The sheen of the silver Moon. Each is a God-sent boon, Fairer than you or I- But when they’ve departed I’m not broken-hearted, 212 AALLEN FAIRIES, OR, I neither despair nor die | The act of their setting I see without fretting— I wonder, wonder why ! Selene and Ethais. The cause is beyond our ken, etc. Ethais. I’ll satisfy thy wonder in a word: The face is the true index to the heart- A ready formula whereby to read The morals of a mortal at a glance. Selene. Then, Ethais, is perfect comeliness Always identified with moral worth? Ethais. The comeliest man is the most virtuous. That's an unfailing rule. Selene. Then, Ethais, There is no holier man on earth than thou! Take thou this ring—it is a pledge of love— [Giving him a ring. Wear it until thy love fades from thy soul. Ethais. 'Twill never fade while thou art true to me. Selene (amazed). Are women ever false to such as thou? Ethais. Are women ever true?—well, not to me! Selene. But these are earthly maidens, Ethais. My love is purer than a mortal's love. Ethais. Thine is no mortal love if it be pure. Selene (horrified). Then, mortal Ethais, what love is thine? Ethais. (taken back). I spake of women—men are otherwise ! Selene. Man's love is pure invariably ? Ethais. Pure ? Pure as thine own | Selene, Poor trusting, cheated souls | SoNG.—SIR ETHAIs. When a knight loves ladye– (Hey, but a maid is a sorry little jade ) He sighs and he sings lackadaydy- Hey, lackadaydy, O! Of a love life-long He'll sing a song- (Hey, but a sorry little jade 1) Of a love supre. He dreams a adaydy, O! T HE. {WICKED WORLD. 215 Phyllon. Well, it’s annoying ! Darine (anriously). It is annoying? Phyllon. Yes, it’s annoying ! Ensemble. These eyes-they burn for Ethais, &c. Phyllon. The state of your emotions you Delineate succinctly : But, come—what would you have me do? Tell me the truth distinctly. Darine. Do? Hurl thyself to yonder earth, With sorrow unabated, And end a life from hour of birth To bitter anguish fated ! Phyllon. I see your point, but (pardon me) _ Did all heart-broken youths agree In death to drown their miseree, The world within a week would be Depopnlated ! Darine. Depopulated ? Phyllon. Depopnlated ! Exsnrrntn. Pr-rYLLou. DAnms. Undoubtedly; but (pardon me) His difficulty I can see ; Did all heart-broken youths agree Did all heart-broken youths agree In death to drown their miseree, In death to drown their miseree, The world within a week would be The world within a week would be Depopulated l Depopulated ! [Emit PHYLLON. Darine (looking of). Here comes the miserable, mincing jade, With a fair speech upon her lying lips, To meet the sister whom her evil arts Have robbed of more than life. Oh, hypocrite! Enter SEmcEE. Selene. Darine! Darine (changing her manner). y sister-—my beloved one ! Why, thou art sad; thine eyes are dim with tears. Say, what has brought thee grief ? Selene (with joy). Darine, my own! Thou dost not shun me, then ? Darine. Shun thee, my sweet Selene ? N 0, not I ! Selene. Bless thee for that ! I feared to meet thy face, For all my loved companions turned from me With scornful jest and bitter mockery; Thou, thou, Darine, alone arttrue to me! Darine. True to Selene while Selene breathes ! Come, tell me all thy woes.‘ 216 FALLEN FAIRIES ; OR, Selene. My Ethais— He whom I love so fondly—he is ill, And I am powerless to heal his wound ! Darine, my love may die! Darine (wildly). What can be done ? Oh, I would give my fairyhood to save The man thou lovest, oh, my dearly loved ! But stay—the counterpart of Lutin is At once his henchman and his cunning leech: Lutin has gone to earth—cast thou this flower And summon mortal Lutin to his aid ; He hath a charm to heal thy lover’s wound! Selene. Kind Heaven reward thee for thy ready wit! My sister, thou hast saved both him and me— My darling sister! [Embracing her. Darine (aside). Oh, thou hypocrite! Selene. Fair rose, I name thee Lutin—go to earth And hither send the mortal counterpart Of him whose name thou hast, and may kind Heaven Prosper thy mission ! Kiss me, dear Darine, For thou hast saved my Ethais for me! [Kisses her and exit. Darine. N 0, not for thee, good sister—for myself! [Emit Deann:. Hurried music. Enter mortal LUTIN over the edge of the cloud, staggering on to the stage as though violently impelled from below. Lutin (bewildered).' Help ! help ! help ! Whatever has become of me? Help ! help! help ! Wherever am I now? Help! help ! help ! Who’s made a tee-to-tum of me? When came I here, why came I here, whence came I here, and how ? Uprising with velocity This impolite atrocity Excites my curiosity- But stay, I’m coming to-— But stay, I’m coming to—- But stay, I’m coming to-— I’ve gained my senses ! I've died a death deplorable, For ever unrestorable, And left my wife adorable To weep, and pay my fu- To weep, and pay my fu- To weep, and pay my fu- neral expenses ! Ha ! Ha ! Ila !‘ Whatever has become of me? M‘. THE WICKED WORLD. 217 During this the Fairies have entered, led by ZAYDA, LOCRINE, NEomE, FLETA, and others. They emamine him curiously and with much amusement. Zayda. A freak of Nature-—not of Art ! ’Tis Lutin, without wing ! F leta. His likeness to his counterpart Is most astonishing! Leila. How beautifully formed is he-- How delicately quaint ! Zara. I wonder will he prove to be A sinner or a saint ? Chorulv. We wonder will he prove to be A sinner or a saint? We lay no stress On blamelessncss, But still we wait To speculate On this—will he Turn out to be A sinner or a saint ? LvTm (who has been much impressed with the beauty of the Fairies). Though I’m no Mussulman, it’s true, Yet by some strange device My soul has found its way into Mahomet’s Paradise ! If this is all I have to pay For my career perverse, It might have been, I‘m bound to say, Considerably worse ! Considering, I’ve had my fling, ’Tis very well ; For, truth to tell, From what I glean, It might have been Considerably worse l Chorus. Considering He’s had his fling, ’Tis very well ; For, truth to tell, From what we glean, It might have been Considerably worse ! [Emit ZeYoA. Locrine (entering). Why, this is Lutin’s mortal counterpart! How quaint! How picturesquely rugged ! Leila Yes! Such character and such expression ! 218 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, All (admiring him). Lutin (with conviction). Neodie. Lutin. Neodie. Lutin. Locrine. Lutin. Neodie. Lutin. Yes! It’s Paradise! Mahomet’s Paradise! I’m comfortably dead, and all is well! Alas! This is not Paradise, nor art thou dead, Thou art in Fairyland! These are the clouds, And th ere’s the earth from which we summoned thee. Of course! I recollect it all ! A mist Enveloped me and whirled me safely here Just as my fair but able-bodied wife ’ Began to lay my staff about my ears. That’s all I know. I’m much obliged to it ! Oh, tell me, are there many men on earth As fair and pleasant to the eye as thou ? Not many—though I have met one or two Who run me pretty close ! . Tell us their names. Well, let me see—Sir Phyllon has been thought A personable man ; then Ethais—- He’s fairly well. But these are handsome men. We love thee for thy rugged, homely face ; Oh, we are sated with mere comeliness, .We have so much of that up here! I love A homely face! I quite agree with you! What do a dozen handsome men imply ? A dozen faces, cast in the same mould. A dozen months, all lip for lip the same, A dozen noses, all of equal length. But take twelve plain men, and the element Of picturesque variety steps in. You get at once unlo0ked for hill and dale, Odd curves and unexpected points of light, Pleasant surprises, quaintly broken lines— 'All very charming, whether seen upon The face of Nature or the face of Man. SonG.—LUTrN. Suppose you take, with open mind, Twelve handsome men—what do you find ? Twelve people, twenty-five years old, Twelve shapes, in even series ; Twelve faces, cast in classic mould (A type that quickly wearies) ; THE WICKED WORLD. 219 Twelve heads—the same from crown to nape, In tedious iteration ; Twelve noses—a1l alike in shape, Without a variation ; Two dozen cyes—all large and bright ; Two dozen lips—all modelled quits Like Cupid’s bow——and underneath Somewhere about three hundred teeth, By average calculation. This is a principle you may disseminate: Good-looking men are effete and effemincte. As for variety, they haven’t got any—- Morbidly mild in their mawky monotony ! But take twelve plain men, and you find Variety of every kind ! You've eyes that swivel—eyes that squint, And dribbling eyes, and dozy; And mottled cheeks of every tint, And hair that’s red and rosy; You’ve months that grin and months that gape ; Large ears that don’t ofiend us; Uneven teeth grotesque in shape, And noses, too—tremendous ! Y0u’ve noses flat and noses snub, Gigantic noses, noses club; You've noses long and noses short, And some that snore and some that snort With energy stupendous ! WhK we're unpopular passes the wit 0' me ! Eac of his kind is a comic epitome, Teeming with humours of dissimilarity-— Quite a museum of peculiarity ! Enter ZAYDA unobserved. Locrine. But stay! Thou shoUldst be faint for lack of food-— Neodie. Nay, let me minister unto his needs- Zayda (coming forward). Then go, beloved sisters. Gather fruits And bring them here to him. Such frugal fare Will have a daintier flavour than its own When served by such fair hands ! [Exeimt LocaINE, N EomE, and the others. Zayda, (changing her manner). We are alone! One word of cauti0n—shun my sisters all ! Lutin. Are all these lovely girls your sisters? Zayda All! Rejoice that they are not thine own. Lutin. I do. I very much prefer them as they are! You’re a fine family. 220 FALLEN FA IRIES ; OR, Zayda. Fair to the eye, But take good heed-—they are not what they seem! Locrine, the fair-—the beautiful Locrine— Is the embodiment of avarice; Darine is vain beyond comparison ; N eodie is much older than she looks ; Camilla hath defective intellect; Maia’s a bitter shrew, Colombe’s a thief; And, last and worst of all, I blush to own, Our Queen Selene hath a tongue that stabs— A traitor tongue that serves no better end Than wag a woman’s character away ! Lutin. l’ve stumbled into pretty company! It seems you fairies have your faults. Zayda. Alas! All but myself. My soul is in my face; I, only 1', am what I seem to be; I, only I, am worthy of esteem. If thou wilt love me, I will dower thee With wealth untold, long years and happy life, Thou gallant churl, thou highly favoured boor, Thou pleasant knave, thou strange epitome Of all tht’’ rugged, quaint, and picturesque! [Kissing him on the tip of his nose. Lutin. You don’t take long in coming to the point! Zayda. Forgive my clumsy and ill-chosen words ; We gentle, simple fairies never loved Until to-day. Lutin. And when you do begin, You fairies make up for the time you’ve lost !' [Twelve Fairies enter with fruit and wine. He sits and they group round him as he eats and drinks. Neodie. Hast thou a wife ? Lutin. Well, yes—that is down there! Up here, I am a bachelor—as yet. Cora. And does she love thee? Lutin. W ell—we do fall out. We did to-day. Neodie. And how came that about? Lutin. Why thus, to tell the‘ truth, between ourselves— ( Whispering.) There was a lady in the case! ' Zayda (much shocked). Hush, hush ! Such stories are unfit for maiden’s ears. Confine thyself to matters that relate 7 HE WICKED WORLD. 22I To thine own sex. Thy master Ethais, He fought with Phyllon. What was that about? Lutin. Oh, it's the old, old story! Locrine. Tell it ! Lutin. Well, There was a lady in the case ! Zayda (shocked). Then stop- Go on to something else. Where wast thou born? Lutin. Why in Bulgaria—some years ago! (Whispering.) There was a lady in that case ! Zayda (severely). It seems There is a lady, sir, in every case ! Lutin. In all those cases they do interfere! [Exit ZAYDA, offended. SoNG.—LUTIN. In yonder world, which devils strew With worry, grief, and pain in plenty, This maxim is accounted true With nemine dissentiente : A woman doth the mischief brew In nineteen cases out of twenty Chorus. A woman doth the mischief brew, In nineteen cases out of twenty ! In all the woes That joy displace, In all the blows That bring disgrace On much enduring human race, There is a lady in the case ! Yes, that's the fix We have to face— Her whims and tricks Throughout you trace. In all the woes that curse our race There is a lady in the case. "horus. Yes, that's the fix They have to face, etc. If woman from great Nature's scheme Were utterly eliminated, Unruffled peace would reign supreme, No quarrels would be propagated. But that is a Utopian dream Of mortals unsophisticated. But that is a Utopian dream Of mortals unsophisticated ! 222 PALLEAV FAIRIES, OR, It's true that foes Might then embrace, And earthly woes Dissolve apace. But where would be the human race With never a lady in the case? Yes, that's the rub We have to face— It gives a snub That kills the case. What would become of all our race With never a lady in the case? Chorus. Yes, that's the rub - That kills their case, etc. Enter DARINE, unobserved. Locrine. And, Lutin, is thy wife as fair as thou? Lutin. I thought her pretty till I looked on thee. Zayda. Her hair— Lutin. Is bright, but not as bright as thine. Locrine. Her figure? Lutin. Neat and graceful of its kind, But lacks thy pleasant plumpness. Then besides She has a long, loud tongue, and uses it; A stout and heavy hand, and uses that; And large expressive eyes, and uses them! Zayda. And doth she know that thou art here with us? Lutin. No, that's the joke! Zayda. The joke? Lutin. Of course it is | Zayda. What joke? Lutin. . . What joke? Why this: my lovely wife Is just as full of devil-born jealousy As woman's soul can hold! A pretty girl Who comes within a hundred yards of me Runs a fair chance to lose both eyes and hair! If I address a well-proportioned maid, My bones will ache for it a month at least! Only the crooked, the palsied, and the blear Are held to be fit company for me, And even they must mind their p's and q's. This comes of being quaintly picturesque! Neodie (sighing). I understand—I'm not at all surprised. I should be just the same were I thy wife! Locrine. And how's the lady called? 224 FALLEN FAIRIES .’ on, With all the madcap torrent of a soul That love has never kindled till to-day! Lutin (aghast). Thou lovest Ethais? Great heaven and earth! Is the girl mad? Darine. She is! Mad as the moon! Hast thou no pity for a heart-wrung girl Who pines for love that thou canst help her win? Lutin. She must be mad! Oh, my beloved Darine! [Throwing himself at her feet. Don’t break my heart—don’t make my life a curse! I’ve been a faithful husband——m0re or less! And when 1’ve earned a hearty cudgelling As I have, now and then, I’ve borne it meekly! Oh, Darine, my love, Do not forsake me. Treat me as thou wilt, I will bear all. Be thou but true to me, My masterful but well-beloved wife! [Wee in . Darine (astonished). P g I am thy wife? Thy well-beloved wife ? Lutin. Of course! Darine. Oh monstrous! (Suddenlg) Stay! There has been mistake; Some dreadful error! See, I’ve found the clue! Her name’s Darine. Here, set thy mind at rest—- No doubt I am her fairy prototype ! Lutin (sobbing). Her prototype? And what’s a prototype? Darine. Why, all the mortals on that wicked world Have prototypes up here, and I am hers- In face resembling her, and that is all. Lutin. Then you are not my wife? Darine. Not I indeed ! Lutin. You’re sure of that ? Darine. Quite sure! Lutin (embracing her rapturously). My darling girl! And I’m permitted to disport myself With these fair maids? Darine. Undoubtedly you are! Latin. Kiss me again ! [Embracing her and giving her the phial. . Here—take the phialf Two spoonsful to the dose! I never was so happy in my life! [Emit DABINE triumphantly. THE WICKED WORLD. 22 5 SONG..—LUTIN. When husband supposes His wife is a jade, N o bed of red roses For husband is made ; But when he discovers, His fears about lovers So grimly abhorrent Are quite without warrant, With utter contrition He sends to perdition All silly suspicion- His fears are allayed ; " He, (Dancing.) Free from anxiety, Free from timidity, Ladies’ society Seeks with avidity-— Pleasant variety, Perfect sobriety, No impropriety Or insipidity ! Fairies (dancing). Free from anxiety, Free from timidity, etc. Lutin. With keen satisfaction And sense of relief He feels a reaction From trouble and grief. His fears heavy-hearted Have uickly departed. He see s in enjoyment Congenial employment, Surrenders politely To maidens so sprightly, They’re all very sightly, But this is the chief! (Indicating LOCRINE.) Oh ! (Dancing) Pure informality Marks their civility— Lovely locality, Gems of gentility— Happy fatality ! That it’s finality Seems, in reality, Improbahility ! Fairies (dancing). Pure informality Marks our civility, etc. [The fairies dance of with LrrrIN. As they go of, DARrsE enters. Iv. Q 226 AALLEAV FAIRIES; OR, SONG.—DARINE. Triumphant I | Here is the charm || Now to devise a plan to gain my end: If I restore his strong sword arm, He will become my friend. But will it gain the love That I prize all above? That all-enthralling love which I would fain Yield up my very fairyhood to gain! And how shall I attain that dream 7 Oh, god of impudence, lend me thine art ! I have bethought me of a scheme That should enchain his heart! No matter sin or shame So, I fulfil my aim— The dictates of the heart must be obeyed. So, god of impudence, lend me thine aid : Enter ETHAIs from bower. He is very weak and ill. Darine (tenderly). How fares Sir Ethais? Ethais. Why grievously! I am no leech and cannot dress my wound. I'm sick and faint from pain and loss of blood | IDarine (aside). Now for my plan! (aloud) Sir Ethais, if Phyllon's words be true, Thy wound is but a scratch! Ethais (indignantly). A scratch, forsooth ! The devil's claws could scarcely scratch as deep ! Darine. He says—I don’t believe him—but he says That thou hast magnified its character Because thou fearest to renew the fight! He says thou art a coward | Ethais (furiously). By my blood He shall atone for this! Oh, Phyllon, coward! Why, a dozen times We two have fought our battles side by side, And I’m to quail and blanch, forsooth, because We two at last are fighting face to face! Black curses on this wound! Were Lutin here, My sword arm soon would be in gear again! Darine, Lutin is here! . Ethais (amazed). Her n > Darine, behold! [Shows phia?. I have obtained charm from him. Now, knigh nettle ! . THE WICKED WORLD. 227 Ethais (furiously). Give it me! Give me the flask | Darine. One moment, Ethais ! This flask is precious, and it hath a price! Ethais. Name thou thy price, and I will give it thee— Take money, jewels, armour, all I have So that thou leavest me one trusty sword Darine. Nay, Ethais, I do not want thy wealth; I want thy love—yes, Ethais, thy love! That priceless love that thou hast lavished on My worthless sister ! Ethais. On Selene? Darine. Aye, Thou lovest her, and dost thou think that I Will save thy life for her? Ethais. Selene? Bah! True, she is fair. Well, thou art also fair. What does it matter, her fair face or thine? What matters either face, or hers or thine, When weighed against this outrage on my honour? Darine. Give me that ring, and thou shalt have the charm Ethais. 'Tis thine. [Gives ring and receives phial. And now, Sir Phyllon, take good heed ! [Swallows contents of phial and is at once restored to health and vigour. Enter SIR PHYLLON. Phyllon. Why, Ethais— Ethais (furiously). So I'm a cur, Sir Liar, and my wound Is but a scratch that I have magnified That I might shun the terrors of thy sword! Phyllon. Hands off, thou drunken madman | Set me free! I never said these things! Ethais. Thou craven cur! Dost thou then fear to reap before my face The crop that thou hast sown behind my back? Phyllon (contemptuously). I am not wont To weigh the words I speak to such as thou! No need to taint thine honour with a lie; Why, Ethais, the truth is black enough ! I know thee for a brawling tavern-bully, A hollow friend, a cruel unsparing foe, 228 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR, A reckless perjurer, a reprobate, The curse of women and the scourge of men-— Is not the truth enough, that I should grudge The one brute-virtue of thy satyr-soul- The instinct courage of a hungry dog? " r [ETHArs is about to fly at PEYrmoN, but checks himself and turns to DARINE. Ethais. Didst thou not tell me he had said these things ? Darine. ’Twas but an artifice to gain thy love! [Turns to PHYLLON. Forgive me, Phyllon ! Phyllon. Bah! release my hand- Thou shameless woman, I have done with thee! [Emit PHYLLON. DARINE turns to ETHAIS imploringly. Enter SELENE. Selene. Darine! Thou here alone with Ethais ? No, n0—I will not doubt! Darine. Doubt whom thou wilt, Thou hypocrite! Thou shameless hypocrite! Thou craven victim of thine own designs! Enter all the Fairies. Selene. Darine, what dost thou mean ? Darine. Doubt all of us, For we are false to thee, as thou to us. I am as thou hast made me, hypocrite! Selene. Thou art to me as thou hast ever been, Most dearly loved of all these dearly loved! Darine. Away! Thou art the source of all our ill. Zayda. Oh, miserable woman, get thee hence! Thou art no Queen of ours! Darine. Away with her! Down with the traitress Queen! . ScEru. Darine. Thou art the source of all the ill That blights our Fairyland! Zayda. Thine is the impious hand That worked our misery, until The very air we breathe Was made to reek and seethe Wit the accursed ofience Of plague and pestilence ! THE WICATED WORLD. 229 Darine. Bow thee unto the storm that lowers | Away! thou art no Queen of ours! All. Away, thou art no Queen of ours : Give place to our Darine ! Bow thee unto the storm that lowers : Down with the traitress Queen Zayda. 'Tis true we counselled thee to call These mortals here from earth. 'Twas but to test thy worth ! We knew too well that thou wouldst fall, As thou indeed hast done. Thy subjects every one Thine infamy has seen, Thou sorry, sorry Queen : Darine, Zayda, Locrine, and Neodie. Thou hast abused thy royal powers : Away! thou art no Queen of ours : All. Away! thou art no Queen of ours! Give place to our Darine ! Bow thee before the storm that lowers | Down with the traitress Queen Selene. So let it be, for I have proved unfit ! - I had a trust—I have forsaken it ! All. Down with the traitress Queen Selene. Though my default was born of good intent, Mine was the sin, be mine the punishment ! All. Hail to our loved Darine ! Selene, Bows in remorse the head that ye contemn. [Taking off her crown and placing it on DABINE. Well loved Darine, wear thou this diadem 1 All. Down with the traitress Queen! Selene. See, my beloved sister-maidens, how Imperially it rests upon her brow ! All, Hail to our loved Darine ! Thou art our Queen, Beloved Darine ! In loyalty We bow to thee--- We bow to thee In loyalty, Beloved Darine, Henceforth our Queen [The Fairies march round DARINE and make obeisance to her. Darine. So may I fall if I forsake my trust ! Thy punishment is just. Thou wast a Queen What art thou now 2 'elene. I have a kingdom yet! I have a kingdom here in Ethais' heart. A kingdom? Nay, a world—my world-my W. =30 FALLEN FAIRIES ,' OR, A world where all is pure and good and brave—- A world of noble thought and noble deed- A world of brave and gentle chivalry- A very goodly and right gallant world ! This is my kingdom, for I am its Queen! [Turning to ETHA1s, who comes down. Darine. Thou art no Queen of his, for he is mine; Aye, by the token that thou gavest him, Thou fond and foolish maiden! [Showing ring. Selene (looking at it). N 0, no, no ! It is a counterfeit! No, no, Darine ! The punishments of Heaven are merciful! [Takes ETHAls’ hand to kiss it; she sees that the ring is not there. Oh, Ethais! Is that the ring with which I plighted thee ? Ethais (sullenly). Aye, that’s the bauble. I have naught to say! Selene (to DARINE>. It fell from him! Where didst thou find it ? Speak ! Ethais. I sold it for a charm, that I might have An arm to flog a lying cur withal; A traitor devil, whose false breath had blurred My knightly honour—dearer to my heart Than any love of woman, hers or thine! I had no choice, my honour was at stake! Selene. Thine honour ! Thou dost well to speak of that! Can devils take the ‘face and form of gods ? Are truth and treachery so near akin That one can wear the other’s countenance ? Are all such men as thou? Or art thou not Of thine accursed race the most accursed? Why, honourable sir, thou art a knight Who wars with womankind! Thy panoply A goodly form, smooth tongue, and fair, false face; Thy shield a lie, thy weapon an embrace. The emblem of thy skill a broken heart! Thine is a gallant calling, Ethais ! Thou manly knight—this soul of chivalry—- Thou most discreet and prudent warrior! [He approaches her. Away, and touch me not! My nature’s gone! May Heaven rain down her fury on thy soul! __. May every fibre in that perjured heart Quiver with love for one who loves thee not! THE WICKED WORLD. 231 Ethais. Selene. Ethais. Selene. May thine untrammeled soul at last be caught And fixed and chained and riveted to one Who, with the love of Heaven upon her lips, Carries the hate of Hell within her heart! Stay! Hear me out. 'Tis true I trifled with thy love, but then Thy love is not as mortal woman’s love. I did not know that it would move thee thus! Thou didst not know ! Art thou so dull that thou canst understand No pain that is not wreaked upon thy frame? Hast thou no knowledge of the form of woe That comes of cheated hopes and trampled hearts? Nay, hear me. I have wronged thee bitterly; I will atone for all Thou shalt atone. SONG.—SELENE. Hark ye, sir knight. I'll yield my fairy state, That I may follow thee to yonder earth, And join the whispering band of hidden hate Who feed on falsehood and who war with worth; The '' band who stab in secrecy; The blighting band within whose lips is hung The deadliest weapon of earth's armoury ! A woman's tongue—a woman's blighting tongue! The talisman I will so deftly wield To twist and turn and torture good to ill, That, were it in thy traitor heart to yield To holy deeds of peace and calm goodwill, Those deeds should seem of holiness bereft, From every form of righteousness averse— Thy peace a war—thy charity a theft— Thy calm a fury and thy prayer a curse! [She throws herself on a bank exhausted. Enter LoCRINE. Locrine. Selene, see!. Through the far distant air with rapid flight Our absent brothers wing their way to us! These mortals must return to our own earth ! ZAYDA and LUTIN and other Fairies have entered. Lutin (shaking them off). Zayda Now, by my head, but this is welcome news! (horrified). - Return to earth? No, Lutin, no—not yet! Life without Lutin, what can that be worth? 232 FALLEIV FAIRIES; OR, Luti‘w I cannot tell you, for I never tried. Nay, seek not to detain me, I’ve reformed ! And had I not, I don’t think I could much enjoy myself In the distracting company of one Who, if she’s not in point of fact my wife, [Alluding to DARINE. ls so uncomfortably like my wife That she may be my wife for aught I know! Enter PHYLLON. Phyllon. Come, Ethais, Lutin, come, to earth again! [PI-IYLLON descends with LUTIN. Selene. ETHAIS is about to follow them, but 1, detained by SELENE. N 0, no! Thou shalt not go—thou shalt not go! My hope—my shattered hope, but still my hope! My love—my blighted love, but still my love ! My life—my ruined life, but still my life! I’ll work and toil for thee—I’ll be thy slave-— Thine humble, silent, and submissive slave! (17'uri0usly.) - Nay, but I’ll hold thee back ! I have the strength Of fifty women! See, thou canst not go! ( With passionate triumph.) Ethais. [Throws of Selena. Nay, but I’ll wrest thy love away from thee And fetter it in bondage to my heart! I will be one with thee; 1’1l cling to thee And thou shalt take me to that world of thine ! Take thee to earth ? I love the world too well To curse it with another termagant ! We have enough of them. Release me, fool- Away from me ! I go to that good world Where women are not devils till they die! SELENE, who falls senseless. He leaps through the cloud and descends. As ETHAIS dis- appears the Fairies, who have grouped themselves about the stage in attitudes of despair, appear gradually to wake as from a dream. The moon has disappeared, heavy thunderclouds that have gradu- ally gathered during the preceding scene suddenly disperse, the stage grows light, and the music becomes soft and lzyrnn-like. Where am I? Zayda ! N eodie! Darine! Oh, sisters, I am waking from a dream_-<- THE WICKED WORLD. 233 Zayda. Selene. A fearful dream—a dream of evil thoughts, Of mortal passion and of mortal hate ! I thought that.Ethais and Phyllon 100 Had gone to mid—earth— Nay, it was no drezm— A sad and sorrowful reality! Yes, we have suffered much, but, Heaven be praised, These mortal men have gone to their own earth And taken with them the bad influence That spread like an infection through our ranks. See, we are as we were! Embracing her. Darine ! arine ! My well-beloved sister, speak to me! Darine (shamefacedly). Selene. I dare not speak to thee—I have no words—- I am ashamed! Oh, sister, let that shame Hang heavily on all, for all have sinned! Oh, let us lay this lesson to our hearts ! Let us achieve our work with humbled souls, Free from the folly of self-righteousness. Behold, is there so wide a gulf between The humbled wretch who, being tempted, falls, And that good man who rears an honoured head Because temptation has not come to him? Shall we, from our enforced security Deal mercilessly with poor mortal man, Who struggles, single-handed, to defend The demon-leaguered fortress of his soul ? Shall we not rather, seeing how we fell, Give double honour to the champion who Throughout his mortal peril holds his own, E’en though His walls be somewhat battered in the fight? Oh, let us lay this lesson to our hearts! Enter LUTI N followed by ETuzus and PHYLLON as Fairies. Lutin. Selene. Ithais. Your brothers have returned ! My Ethais ! Selene-—sisters all-—rejoiee with us! \Ve bear the promise of a priceless gift, A source of new and endless happiness! Take every radiant blessing that adorns Our happy land, and all will pale before 234 FALLEN FAIRIES; OR THE WICKED WORLD. The lustre of this precious privilege. It is—that we may love as mortals love Selene. No, no—not that! No, Ethais, not that ! It is a deadly snare—beware of it! Such love is for mankind and not for us. No, Ethais, we will not have this love 1 CHORUS. Pure as the air, sweet as the morning dew, Reigneth our Queen! Bright in our eyes as Heaven's ethereal blue, Reigneth our Queen! Spirit of love as thou hast ever been, Be to us evermore, oh, sister-Queen Unsullied source Of tranquil joy, Pursue thy course Of pure employ– Be thou as thou hast ever been, Our all-beloved sister-Queen | [DARINE removes the crown from her head and places it on SELENE. The Fairies all kneel in adoration at SELENE's feet. CURTAIN. THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. A MUSICAL PLAY. WRITTEN BY W. S. GILBERT. COMPOSED BY FREDERIC CLAY, DRAMATIS PERSONAE. THE BARON OTTo Von SchLAcaBNstein MR. DANVERs. GRUMPFF, his Steward •- •- ... MR. TERROTT. HANs GoPP, a Villager - •- ... Miss E. FowleR. THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK •- ... MR. FLOCKTON. TINTELSTEIN, Syndic of Schlachenschloss ... MR. F. RobsoN. SCHLIPPs, an Innkeeper •- •- ... MR. HERBERT. BERTHA... - •- - - - - ... MISS EMMELINE COLE. THE BARONESS WON SCHLACHENSTEIN ... Miss MAxse. MARIA • *- ... MISS DALTON. Al - - - GRETCHEN } Market airls. { • * * ... Miss RoBERTs, EMMA ... - - • *- •- .., MISS WILSON. ACT I. MARKET PLACE OF A GERMAN WILLAGE. ACT II. GATES OF CASTLE SCHLACHENSCHLOSS. Time in Representation: One Hour and a Half. COSTUMES-DATE ABOUT 1584, TH E GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. ACT I. SCENI3.—lllarket Place of a German Village. The Golden Flagon Inn at back of stage. The S3/ndic’s house, R. Chorus of MARKET GIRLs, assembled in honour o_/'BERTHA’s betrothal to Heus. Ornnmc CnonUs. To-day young Hans Matures his plans, And pretty Bertha gratifies his whim. Some men prefer A girl like her, But girls should not endure a man like him. An ugly chap Not worth a rep, He’s very far from bright; not over tall. My future spouse Must have a house- A cow as well, and several pigs withal ! HANS enters R. U. E. and is received by them with some ridicule. He is a heavy, simple, idiotic fellow, but good-looking and honest. 1 Maria. Well, Hans, so you are really going to be married at ast ? Hans. We1l, yes, it looks like it, don’t it? (C'huckles.) But I've had a great deal of trouble to get Bertha to consent. First she would, and then she wouldn’t—and then she couldn’t—and then she shouldn't--and then she’d think of it—and then she thought of it, and then she seemed to like it—and then she thought of it again, and then she didn’t seem to like it—then she thought she might do worse, and then she was sure that 238 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. she might do better—and when she found that no opportunity of doing better presented itself, why she closed with me, and here we are! . [C/zuckles. Gretchen. Ah, it was a sad day for us, Hans, when Bertha consented. What’s to become of us now, I should like to know? We shall all die old maids ! Hans. Well, I could only have prevented that in one case, if Bertha hadn’t consented. That is to say, in one case at a time! Maria. Yes, but who knows but that that case might have been mine ? _ Hans. No, it wouldn’t have been yours-—I’m sure it wouldn’t have been yours. I never liked you much. [Chuckles . Gretchen. Mine, then? Hans. No. You’re a very good girl, Gretchen, but you’re not clever. Come, you know you’re not clever. Now my wife must be very clever. Gretchen (angry). Yes, she must have cleverness enough for two! Hans. Yes, or she’d never catch me! [Chuckles . Gretchen. If she were clever she wouldn’t want to catch ou. y Hans. That carries out what I told you just now. You wanted to catch me. Gretchen. I didn’t. Hans. Well, you said you did. Gretchen.. Ah, you mustn’t believe all I say. Hans. So I’m told. Gretchen. Do you mean to say people tell you that I tell stories? Hans. Oh, no, not exactly stories, that’s not the word. Gretchen. What is the word, then ? Hans. Lies! [C’huckles. Gretchen. Abominable! I’ll pay you out for this, Hans. I’ll give a party on our wedding-day, and invite all the young men. Bertha will be disconsolate. Hans. Oh, Bertha won’t mind. She isn’t selfish, and she knows you want ’em more than she does. Maria. There’s a good deal of truth in that. Gretchen. Is there? I disagree with you. Maria. Yes, dear; you’re like a Strasburg sausage, you dis- agree with everybody. As for the truth, I don’t believe you know it when you hear it. Gretchen. I don’t often get the chance in this village! Maria. No, your t0ngue’s always going! THE GEAV7'LEMAAV IAW BLACK. 239 Enter SCHLIPPs, from the Golden Flagon, in great terror. He shuts the door after him, and puts his back against it. Theresa. What's the matter? Schlipps. I’m a weak man and a good man, and there's a strong man and a bad man coming after me. Emma. A strong man and a bad man? Whom in the world do you mean? Schlipps. A mysterious stranger ! A person who has no right up here, on earth, I know. He's a supernatural person, my dears, and he dines off iron pokers and lumps of coal. He called for his dinner just now, and I sent it up to him—a beautiful roast turkey stuffed with chestnuts—well, he never touched the turkey, but he eat all the knives and forks! Emma. Eat the knives and forks! Schlipps. Yes, all of 'em, and then called for more! And when I said I hadn't got any more, he tried to collar me, but I escaped, and here I am. I’ll go to the priest and the Syndic, and between them they’ll make the place too hot to hold him. That is, if any place can be too hot to hold such a person. I believe the hotter it is, the better he likes it! (Noise heard.) Here he comes! Help me to hold the door! [All the GIRLs run to the inn, and assist SCHLIPPs in keeping the door shut. The GENTLEMAN IN BLACK walks quietly through the wall of the inn at a considerable distance from the door that the GIRLs are barring. He is eating a fork. He walks quietly down the stage, and addresses SCHLIPPs, who is quite hemmed in by GIRLs round the door. Gentle. Schlipps, I don’t think your wife would like that. [SCHLIPPs leans against the wall in great terror. Hans (chuckling). He hasn’t got a wife! Gentle. Oh yes, he has. A tall, stout wife, with yellow hair and freckles. Haven't you, Schlipps? (GIRLs all recoil from ScHLIPPs in great horror.) Her name's Martha, isn't it, Schlipps? And she has a fine, strong arm, hasn't she, Schlipps? And she uses it, don’t she, Schlipps? Schlipps. Well, my wife's neither here nor there. Gentle. Yes, she is, she's there, [Points off R, Schlipps. Where? - Gentle. Nuremberg. [SCHLIPPs runs off in the opposite direct "aria. How do you know that tle. I know everything. 240 THE GE./VTLEMAIV IN BLACK. Gretchen. I don’t believe you. Gentle. Why should you? Nobody believes you. Gretchen. How do you know that? I mean, how dare you say such a thing? Theresa. Gretchen may be a story-teller—but she has her good points for all that. She says so herself. Gretchen. I never said so. Maria. Then it may be true. (To GENTLEMAN.) Now tell me something about myself. Gentle. Very good. That’s not your own hair. [Touching a long plait that hangs down her back. MARIA (in a great rage). It’s false! Gentle. Exactly. [It comes of in his hand; all laugh. THEBESA,GRET0HEN, and EMMA, quietly take of their plaits and put them in their pockets. Maria (indignantly). Give me that directly. (Snatohes it away.) My hair always comes off in the autumn. Gretchen. Perhaps you have some remark to make about my hair. Gentle. Yes, beautiful hair, and all your own. (Pulling end of long plait quietly out of GRETonEN’s pocket.) With a reserve, to be used in cases of emergency. Gretchen. I won’t stand it. My mind’s made up! Maria. So‘s your face! [GarrTonEN and MARIA retire up, quarrelling. Emma. N ow tell us something that’s going to happen. Gentle. Very good. You’ve heard of the wicked Baron Otto von Schlachenstein ? All. Yes, yes. Gentle. Well, he’s going to happen! He’ll be here to-day on his way to his native castle, Schlachenschloss—twenty miles from here. _ Hans. And who’s Baron Otto von Schlachenstein ? Maria, The wickedest man in the whole world! Gretchen. Yes, but there’s something worse than that about him, he’s the ugliest man in the whole world! - Emma. He’s the most dreadful rake in the whole world! Maria. Yes, they say that although he’s so wonderfully hideous, no woman can possibly resist him. It’s infamous that any man should possess such power. Emma. Disgracefull Theresa. Abominable! _ Gretchen. Yes, they say he only has to look at you, and there’s an end of you! THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK 241 Hans (simply). Of me? Gretchen. Not of you, of course, of me—.(./ill laugh)—that is, of any woman. It’s abominable ! Well, he’ll be here in half an hour! All the Girls. Oh, how nice ! [They check themselves and look demure. Hans. Oh, dear! oh, dear! [Crying_ Maria. What on eath is there to cry about? Hans. Suppose he takes a fancy to my Bertha? Do you think she would resist him? Gretchen. I don’t know any girl with weaker powers of resist- ing temptation. Enter BERTHA running, L. U. 12., as 1_7f pursued. Rncrnr1vn. Bertha. Oh, my gracious ! All. What’s the matter ? Bertha. How audacious ! All. What a clatter. Bertha. Such a monster! Hans. Oh, how frightful ! Bertha. Tried to kiss me. All. How delightful ! Bertha. Then he chased me. All. How audacious ! Bertha. And embraced me. . All. Yet how gracious ! Maria. Tell us, Bertha, what befell you— ' Bertha. Gar.her round, and I will tell you. Listen. (Sees HAEs.) No! Hans. Bertha, what in the world is the matter ‘? Who’s been hitting you? " Bertha (coquettishly). I haven’t been hit, I’ve been struck ! Hans. Struck! Bertha. Very much struck ! Hans. Bertha, you’ve been flirting. Bertha. No, I haven’t. (Demurelg/.) I’ve been receiving attention from a gentleman. . Hans. From what gentleman ? -- Bertha. From—well, I shan’t tell you. [HANs, in despair. AIR.-—BERTI-IA. On second thoughts, I don’t suppose It matters much to you- Your conduct very plainly shows You do not think me true. 1v. 242 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. Why, I declare, you tear your hair, Because he touched his hat! If noble strangers think me fair, I’m not to blame for that! Chorus. If noble strangers think her fair, She's not to blame for that ! If my complexion shames the rose, I didn't put it there ! I don’t suppose I made my nose, Although I “ did my hair.” If noble strangers choose to think I’m good for looking at- And feel themselves compelled to wink, Am I to blame for that? Chorus. If noble strangers choose to wink, She’s not to blame for that ! Maria. Did he only wink ? ' Bertha. Oh, he did more than that—he put his arm round my waist and kissed me. Hans. But you resisted? Bertha. I couldn’t resist! Hans (sulkily). You can sometimes ! Bertha. Yes, but he’s much stronger than you. Gretchen. Is he handsome? Bertha. He’s the ugliest man I ever saw. Hans. Then you've no excuse! Bertha. His hair is a fiery red, and his nose is diabolical; he has little green eyes, and his face is covered with moles like little hat-pegs. Hans. If she goes on like this with a man whose face is covered with moles like little hat-pegs, how far will she go with a man who hasn’t got any moles at all? Bertha. Some girls choose men as they choose old china—the uglier they are the better they like them. Hans. I wish I was like old china. Bertha. So you are in one respcct—you‘re very much cracked! But although he is so dreadfully ugly, there’s some- thing very striking about his head. Hans. There shall be something very striking about his head before he’s half an hour older! Why what’s the matter with the Syndic ? Enter TINTELSrEIN, L. U. E. Tintel. Congratulate me, congratulate me. Hans. We do—heartily. Why ? Tintel. At last I have an ofiicial duty to discharge. For THE GENTLE./VAN IN BLACK’. 243 three years I have been Syndic of Schlachenschloss, and until this moment my office has been a sinecure. Not a nobleman has visited the village—not a quarrel has taken place between the villagers. My term of ofiice expires in a month, and but for a glorious and wholly unexpected event which has just taken place, posterity would never have heard of me! The Baron Otto von Schlachenstein has just arrived on his way to his native castle, Schlachenschloss. All. The Baron Otto von Schlachenstein! Bertha. That was his name. Hans. Whose ? Bertha. The man who tried to kiss me! Fly, fly, girls, or he may try to kiss you too, for pretty and ugly are alike to him. _ Gretchen. Fly? We’d scorn the action. If innocence is to be insulted, flying won’t do any good. Maria. I should like to catch him trying to kiss me! Tintel. Well, from all accounts you’re very likely to have your whim gratified. But don’t talk of flying-—-— Gretchen. We are not talking of flying. Tintel. Because so great a man must be received with cor‘- mony. I must go and put on my robes! When I took office I spent thirty thalers on those robes, and from that day to this I’ve never had an opportunity of wearing them. Gretchen. And won’t you speak an address ? Tlntel. An address? I should rather think so! Listen, when the Empress was expected to pass through this village three years since, shortly after the birth of her two s0ns—twins —I prepared a speech and had it engrossed on vellum. Well, the Empress changed her mind and never came, so the address was never used. That speech shall be spoken now! With a little modification it will do admirably. Here comes the Baron, attended by his steward Grumpff. Receive him with the enthusiasm so great a man deserves-—I won’t be a minute! Come along, Hans, and help me with my robes. [Erit into his house 1:., followed by HANs. Enter BARoN and GnUMrrr, L. U. E. CnonUs. We hail you—- Regale you— The flagon shall not fail you ! Amuse you, And booze you—- There‘s nought we can refuse you. 244 THE GEAVTLEMAN IN BLACA. Baron. Grumpff. Grumpff. My lord. Baron. Did you flog that postillion who had the audacity to faint on his horse ? Grumpff. My lord, I flogged him till I couldn't stand. Baron. My own Grumpff! Grumpff, I love you. You're a man after my own heart. Grumpff. No, no, my lord. Baron. But I say yes. Grumpff. I say no! Baron. Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal I shall say yes! - Grumpff. Hier sprich mann Schloppenhausen teufelspitz, I say no! Because—because—your lordship hasn’t a heart to "be after—ho, ho, ho! Baron. Ho, ho, ho! CoUPLETs. Baron (to MARIA). How de do, miss | Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? You who smile with wicked wile, How de do, miss! Who are you? Glad to see you—who are you? Maria. My name's Maria, I am she Who shells the coy and bashful pea. Supplies the priest, and Syndic, too— Happy to do the same for you! Baron (to GRETCHEN). How de do, miss! Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? You with waist so tightly laced, How de do, miss! Who are you? Glad to see you—who are you? Gretch. My name is Gretchen; I'm the pride And boast of all the country side; I flirt all day—that's all I do— Happy to do the same with you! Baron (to THERESA). How de do, miss! Who are you? Who are you? Who are you ? - You with hair so long and f How de do, miss | Who - Glad to see you—who a Theresa. My name's Theresa Grapes, and nuts, an well, The villagers I sel Happy to do the '1 HE GENTLEMAZV IN BLACK. :45 Baron (to BERTHA). How de do, miss ! Who are you ? Who are you? Who are you? You whose lips the rose eclipse-— How de do, miss ! Who are you? Glad to see you ? Who are you ? Bertha. My name is Bertha, I’m the miss You complimented with a kiss. You gave me one—a good one, me—- Happy to do the same to you ! Enter TINTELSTEIN from house, R., with address. Tintel. Welcome, my lord! Here is a small matter of an address, which I trust your lordship will condescend to hear. It is an address composed in honour of the expected visit of the Empress immediately after the birth of her little twins, but the Empress never came, and it’s on my hands. But it has never been used, my lord, and is as good as new, and if your lordship will make a slight allowance for the different circumstances under which the address is presented, I think you will find that it will answer every purpose. Ahem ! (reads) “ Much respected and ever to be worshipped Madame ! ” Baron. Eh ? Potz-tausend aimmels Sackerment noch emmal! What’s that? Tintel. That referred to the Empress. “ We, the Syndic of Schlachenschloss, dazzled by the surpassing beauty of your angelic countenance—overwhelmed by the extraordinary lustre of those melting eyes? ” Grumpfl’. That’s the Empress’s eyes. Baron. It applies equally to our own. Proceed. Tintel. It applies equally to his lordship’s. I proceed. “ Those melting eyes, find ourselves quite unable to congratulate you, in fitting terms, on your happy recovery ” Baron. Recovery? Tintel. That referred to an interesting event of a certain kind, which had recently occurred. But perhaps your lordship has been ill lately? Baron. Not at all-—never had a day’s illness in all my life. . _1_'intel. I’I very sorry to hear you say so, my lord, for as the particular kind of illness from which the Empress was recovering isn’t specified,I was in hopes that it might have applied to you. But I’ll strike that out. I proceed. “ We are happy to think that the cares of maternity do not so monopolise your attention as to prevent your honouring us with a visit——- ” Grumpfl. Bah! . 246 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK Baron. That’s all right. The cares of maternity do not monopolise our attention—it’s quite right. Go on. Tintel. Exactly; in the Empress’s case they did, and she never came. “And in the devout hope that these interesting little strangers may only be the earnest of many many more interesting little strangers to follow, we beg to subscribe our- selves, madame, your most obedient and very humble servant, TINTELSTEIN, Syndic.” I composed that myself! Baron. Potz-tausend ! but it does you credit. Tintel. Allowing, your lordship, for the altered circumstances, I think? ' Baron. Exactly—get out. This is a pleasant village, Grumpff ; I shall stop here a fortnight. . Grumpfl’. Your lordship might do worse. . Baron. Which is the prettiest girl in the village? Gmmpfi’. This one, my lord. [Indicating BERTHA. Baron. Good, Grumpff! Are you the prettiest girl in the village? Bertha. I believe I am considered so, my lord. Baron. What’s your name? Bertha. Bertha Pompopplesdorf, my lord. Hans. At present, my lord. Baron. Eh ? Hans. To-morrow she changes it. _ Baron. Exactly—to-morrow she changes it-—Syndic. Tintel. My lord. Baron. Draw up a marriage contract between ‘Bertha Pom- popplesdorf and Baron Otto von Schlachenstein. Hans. Here, I say—— Tintel. But, my lord—-— _ Baron (in a rage). Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal! Am I to be thwarted ? Hans. You are! Baron. Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment ‘noch emmal! Hans. She’s betrothed to me, and we’re to be married to- morrow. Baron. How blind are these poor earthworms! They design, and lo, they think they have completed! Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal! Bertha (aside). It will serve the jealous little donkey right to tease him for half an hour. (Aloud) Baron, it is true that I am betrothed to Hans, in a sort of way—bl1t—to be a baroness Hans. To be a baroness! But look at his moles! You couldn’t marry a man with moles like hat-pegs! . THE GE/VTLE.MA1V IN BLACK. 247 Bertha. One can but try, dear Hans. If I find I can’t marry him, I will marry you with pleasure-—there! Come, Baron, and we will talk it over ! [Repeat chorus, “ We hail you.” All emerunt L. U. E., emcept Huts and the GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. Hans. That girl’s going to throw me over! Life without Bertha, one long, long night ! Gentle. (coming forward). And life with Bertha? Hans. One long, long day! Gentle. You’d find one as monotonous as the other. But what is the matter? Hans. Matter? Bertha has been and bolted bodily with a big, brutal, burly baron! 'I‘hat’s all. [S0bln'ng. Gentle. Well? Hans. That’s what it is to be a baron. Rank is a fine thing! Ugly as he is, I wish I was he ! Gentle. Do you mean that? Hans. Of course I mean that. Gentle. Good. Are you aware that I have power of trans- ferring the soul of one man into the body of another at will. Hans (terrified). No! Gentle. It’s a fact,'though. I can accomplish that meta- morphosis whenever I please. At the end of the month your soul goes back to its proper body. Hans. And who are you? Gentle. The king of the gnomes. Country orders executed with promptness and despatch. Hans. And if my soul is transferred to the baron’s body, shall I become as wicked as the baron? Gentle. That depends entirely upon youself ; you carry with you all your moral qualities, and, subject to them, you are a free agent. Hans. And Bertha won’t know anything about it? Gentle. Certainly not. She will notice a curious change in the baron’s voice and manner, and that’s all. Hans. It will be a change for the better. (C/zuckles.) I agree. Go it. Gentle. Go what? Hans. Change me. Gentle. Oh, but I must get the Baron’s consent first. Hans. Why? Gentle. Why, if I- take your soul out of your body, without finding room for it in the baron’s, you will be what is called “ dead.” You may have heard the term ? Hans. I think I have. 248 THE GE./VTLEMAN IN BLACK Gentle. Good—then you know what I mean. Ah, here he comes. Enter BARON, L. U. 1:. Baron. Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal l She don’t care a bit for me! She loves that booby after all ! She only did it to tease him ! Gentle. How do you do, baron? Baron. Who are you, sir, when you’re at home ? Gentle. Never mind who I am when I’m at h0me—you’ll find out all about that some day. It is enough for you that I wish to be known as the Gentleman in Black. Come, you have fallen desperately in love with Bertha Pompopplesdorf ; she flirted with you in order to excite her lover’s jealousy, and having done that she allowed you to see that she didn’t care a straw about you. You are at this moment wishing you were that lover—true ? Baron (amazed). Quite true! Gentle. I have the power of transferring your soul into his body for one calendar month—at the end of the month your soul lievertps to its original tabernacle. What do you say ? Shall I 0 it. . Ba/ron. For one month only. Gentle. Only for one month. This is the thirteemli August, 1584, on the thirteenth September your souls will revert to their proper bodies. Baron. Agreed. Go it. Gentle. Very good. Behold—I go it! RncrTATrvE. Otto's body, grim and rlroll, Shrine young Hans’s simple soul ; Otto’s soul, of moral shoddy, Occupy young Hans’s body ! [He makes passes, and flashes fire. HANS immediately assumes the ferocious demeanour of the BARoN—the BARON assumes the loutish demeanour of HANs. . N.B.—For the salsa of convenience, Hans’s body with — the Bar0n’s soul will be distinguished as the “ False Hans,” the Baron’s body with Hans’s soul as the “Real Hans.” Gentle. There, it’s done ! How do you like it? False Hans. Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal ! This is a tight fit ! _ Real Hans (chuckles as HANs did——l0oking in mirror). What an ugly brute I am ! " THE GEIVTLEMAN 1./v BLACK. 249 False Ha/ns (indignantly). Potz-tausend! What do you mean by that? You’re a devilish good-looking fellow, sir. Look at me! here’s a sight ! And I’ve got to go about like this for a month—and in these clothes, to)! Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal! [Pulls at cloth of his coat. Real Hans; I say, baron, don’t do that—that’s my best doublet, and it won’t stand trifling with. By the bye, where do you keep your pocket handkerchief? Oh, I’ve got it (uses it—- a letter drops out of his pocket). Hallo! what’s this? (reads) “ Dearest Otto———” False Hans. Give me that letter, sir, immediately. Real Hans. Oh, no—excuse me. False Hans. It’s from a lady, sir. Potz-tausend! Real Hans. Can’t help that. (OhuekIes.) You should have emptied your pockets before you changed. . False Hans (feeling in pocket, and producing bread and sausage). YVhat’s this? Real Hans. 'ha’hs my dinner—at least, your dinner. You have meat for dinner to-day to commemorate your betrothal. You’re in luck, Baron! [0'huekles. False Hans. Bread and sausage for a month ! (Enter BnwrHA.) Potz-tauseud, but she's a lovely girl and I’ll bear with the inconveniences of my position for her sake! Real Hans. Bertha ! [Runs to embrace her. Bertha. Go away, you monster, I hate the sight of you. (To FALSE HANs.) Hans, I’m very sorry I treated you so badly, but it was because you were so ridiculous as to be jealous of that extravagant scarecrow! As if any girl could love a monster with moles like hat-pegs. False Hans. H’m ! his body isn’t so_ bad, Bertha, but his moral qualities are contemptible. Real Hans. Bah! I’m the ugliest beast on the face of the earth ! False Hans. You’re not, sir! Real Hans. I am, sir! False Hans. Look at your nose, sir. 'l‘here’s a nose! There’s character in that nose, sir! There’s blood in that nose, sir! 'I‘here’s an eye, sir! There’s a sonnet in every look-—there’s a leg ! Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal ! Real Hans (feeling his legs). Hallo! it’s padded. (C'huel.'.les.) Here’s a lark ! Oh, I say, he pads his legs! False Hans. It’s all stuff ! Bertha. Well, well, don’t quarrel. It’s quite enough for you, dear Hans (to FALSE HANs) that I think him repulsive. I’ve come to beg your pardon for flirting with such a monster and to 250 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. tell you that 1 a ready to marry you immediately, and be a good and faithful wife to the end of my days—there. (Kisses him.) '.l‘here’s an earnest of what is to come! ‘ Real Hans. She never did that to me. ’ False Hans. Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal! Bertha. Eh ? “lhat an extraordinary remark! He’s caught it from the Baron! Poor fellow, he thinks to please me by imitating the expressions of people of rank! Real Hans. Bertha, listen to me : there’s a great change, that you know nothing about and that I can’t explain-— Bertha. A great change? Yes, I see there is a great change, but your hypocritical mildness will have no effect upon me. "t ' Enter TmTELsTEIN, MARIA, GEETouEN, EMMA, TnEREs.’1., L. U. E. Tintel. My lord, the baroness has arrived! Real Hans. Very good, it’s no aflhir of mine. I T/intel. The Baroness Otto von Schlachenstein, your wife. Real Hans. My wife? he, he, he l I like that! Ttntel. She says you have deserted her, and she has come with her five children to claim protection. _' Real Hans. Five children! This is beyond a joke. I don’t object to the wife—but five children-—— False Hans. Potz-tausend! but this is a narrow escape! All (to REAL HAus). Oh, you monster! Bertha. And he tried to kiss me, and he’s a married man! Maria. With five children! _ Real Hans. But, listen, I "am not the Baron Otto von Schlachenstein, and I never had a child in my life. All. Oh, oh! Real Hans. I’m not, indeed! That’s the Baron. Theresa. Ihat? Why that’s Hans——- Tintel. However, here she comes. Enter the BARONESS with five little children, L. U. E. Baroness (embracing REAL HANs). Baron! Cruel, cruel, Baron! _ Tintel. (aside). Here is an opportunity that may not occur again. Ahem! (Pulls out his address and begins to read.) “Much respected and ever to be honoured Madame, we, the Syndic of Schlachenschloss, dazzled by the surpassing beauty of your angelic countenance ” h Baroness (pushing TnrrLEsTErsr out Qf the way). Come ome. . THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK 25I Eldest Child. Father, dear father, come home! [They cling round him. Real Hans. Here, I say (to FALSE HANs). These are your children, you know -- Baroness. Baron! h Real Hans. That’s your husband, ma’am—take him and be sppy! Baroness. That my husband? Oh, Otto, I never set eyes on the young man before! False Hans. No, never! Potz-tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal, she never set eyes on the young man before! Baroness. And yet that exclamation! The Baron’s favourite own l False Hans. Exclamations are common property, ma’am. You didn’t marry an oath, you married a man—a very good- looking one too. Take him and be happy. Real Hans. It’s all a mistake. Go away, you bold woman, and don’t kiss me like that. Baroness. Otto, come home! .. Real Hans. I don’t know who you are, but you’re a very brazen person. I’m a single man, and consequently I haven’t a family, and I must beg that you will remove these young per- sons directly. Tintel. Stop a bit, here’s a chance of recording a judgment at last! Have you any proof that this gentleman is your husband ? Baroness. Proof ? I sent him a copy of my marriage certi- lficate a week ago—to prove that I could get another if I iked. ‘ Real Hans. Eh ? [Feels in his p0cket—takes out letter. Baroness. And there it is! See-—my own handwriting-—and here is more of it. [Undoes his shirt collar, and reads marking on his shirt, “ 0tto, si"..” All. “ Otto, six! ” T/lntel. It is indeed in her handwriting. , Here is a strong priméfacie case. Let both parties appear before me to-morrow morning, and this matter shall be investigated! Baroness. I’ll go to the archduke, and compel you to receive me, or forfeit your estates. You know how strict he is in his own conduct. Real Hans. Ma’am, the stricter he is in his own conduct, the less is he likely to approve your quartering yourself on a single gentleman. You’re quite at liberty to go to the archduke—or any other potentate you please. 252 THE GENTLEMAN 11v use/<1 CONCERTED PIECE. Baroness. Monster, do you want to leave me? You who swore you’d never grieve me? Of your love at once bereave me— Oh, alack and well-a-day! ' Baron. Ma’am, I don’t know what your game is, Quite unknown to me your name is- This dead set at me a shame is! Naughty woman, go away ! Bertha. Oh, you monster unrelenting, Listen to her loud lamenting— Better be at once consenting— Take her, Baron—take her, pray ! Ge-umpfi‘ (aside to BArzounss). Money of me try to borrow .Till a verdict ends your sorrow (Which will happen, ma’am, to-morrow) In the cottage you may stay ! Gentle. This certificate I’m reading Trumpets forth your evil breeding, For your conduct thus unheeding You will surely have to pay ! Baroness. Monster, do you mean to leave me? You who swore yoe’' never grieve me ? Will you take me ? Baron. No, I won’t, nm’am. Baroness. Don’t forsake me ? Baron. No, I don’t, ma’am ! - Baroness. Don’t forsake me? Baron. No, I don’t. Phorus. Monster, monster, monster, monster! Hana. Baron, you’re behaving sadly ! She adores you, fondly, madly— You will disappoint her sadly : Seek her in her sad array ! Bertha Now she says she means to love you, and But it doesn't seem to grieve you Grumpf. Of her love she will bereave you Oh alack and well-a-day ! Baron. She’s no kind of wife of mine. ’Tis for her (indicating BERTHA) I sigh and pine. Bertha. You’ve been drinking too much wine Such a thing to dare to say! Chorus. Baron, you’re behaving badly ! She adores you, fondly, madly- You will disappoint her sadly: Seek her in her sad array ! Baron. I've been drinking? why how dare you l Bertha. Don‘t be thinking I could bear you ! Grumpf. For a linking, pray, prepare you ! Hans. Chains are clinking to ensnare you! Gentle. Stop your winking, she must share you ! All. Baron, you’re behaving badly, etc. [At end of finale, BAsosEss rushes of frantically L. U. E. leaving REAL HANs surrounded by children. THE GENTLE/VAN 11v BLA 01¢. :53 ACT II. SoENE.—Gastle Gates of Schlachenschloss. (The market BOYs and GIRLS of Act I. discovered.) They are engaged in preparing . triumphal arch for the arrival of the BARON. CHORUS. In service, now, against our wills, Compelled, alas, to stop ! We polish panes and window sills, And twirl the airy mop ! With every kind of mortal dread, We hear the Baron's yoke, Contrast it with the life we led As happy market folk l Enter GnUMrrr, L. U. E., at the end of chorus, cracking at long whip, and carrying aroll of calico. Grunnpfl’. Now, then, this won't do! This ain’t business, you know. Come, the Baron will be here in a minute, and the preparations for his welcome are not half finished. Here is the scroll which is to surmount the arch. It’s my own composition. (Unrolls scroll, “ Welcome Little Stranger.’ ’) Come, up with it. [Cracks /whip-—they hang up scroll. Maria. If you please, we can’t work if you crack your whip like that. Grumpfl’. Why not? [C'ra,ck¢'ng whip. Maria. It makes us jump. Grurnpfl’. Ha! Dou’t you complain as long as you only get the crack of it. Theresa. Why, you wouldn’t hit a woman. Grumpf. Wouldn’t 1? Why not ? Gre°tchen. What, hit a woman who couldn’t hit you back avam . °Grmnp_fl’. Why you don’t suppose I’d be such a fool as to hit anybody who could ‘.9 Gretchen. Yes, I do. Grumpfl’. Then you don’t know me. No, no, the Baron keeps me to flog the women and children. All the strong men are flogged by machinery. But don’t you abuse my whip : I’m very fond of my whip—I always have it about me. Gretchen. You deserve to_hAve it about you! And if you’re so fond of it, don’t give it to us. We don’t like it. 254 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK Grumpfi’ (furious). What’s that ? Gretchen. Nothing, I didn’t speak. Grumpfil You said that I deserved to have it about 1e. Gretchen. I don’t call that speaking, I call that thinking out loud. Grurnpf. Think to yourself then, or my whip will take to thinking out loud. And when it once begins it doesn’t leave 011' in a hurry. Sonc.-GRu\1rr1~'. N o giddy flirt is this good whip: If once it holds you in its grip, Of fickleness you can’t complain It comes again, again, again ! (Cracking whip.) You can’t forget it—ii you do, Be sure it will remember gou— Its warm attentions will.not wane, ’Twill come again, again, again! (Cracking whip.) A heedless whip—it little reeks Of beauty, figure, age or sex ; If once it holds you in its rein It comes again, again, again ! ’(Cracluing whip.) A demoerat—prepared to strike ! The old, the sick, the weak alike! Where once it’s been, it's always fain To come again, again, again ! (C'z'acklng whip.) [Noise heard without, all come down hurriedly. Maria. My dears, here’s the Baron? How do I look ? Gretchen. Beautiful, dear—for you! Oh, I'm in such a state of mind ! _ Maria. If he touches me, I shall pinch him. Grumpfl’. Now, then, welcome his lordship—Hurrah! The others (very faintly). Hurrah! Enter REAL HANs, L. U. E., preceded by four servants bowing and walking backwards. He carries two of the children in his arms, the others are hanging about him. (He still retains all the outward appearance of the BARON, with the manner of HANs.) Grurnpf. Now then, take care, he’s going to begin! [All very frightened. Real Hans (looking at the arch). Oh, how sweetly pretty! (Holding up child.) Look at it, Tommy, ain’t it sweetly pretty! (GRUMrrr makes a preposterous bow .which frightens REAL HANS very much.) Now look here, don’t you hit me, I'm the Baron, and you must be respectful. If you’re rude I shall be seriously annoyed. ' THE GENTLEM./11V IN BLACK. 25; Grumpfi’. Rude? My lord, I was making a bow. Raeal Hans. Oh, I beg your pardon—but, may I ask who you are . Grumpfl‘. Ho, ho! That’s good! Who am I ? His lordship’s joke! Ho, ho, ho! (Aside to SERvANTs.) He don’t often joke —so laugh, or you’ll catch it! Servants. Ho, ho, ho! Real Hans. Look here, I don’t want to appear inquisitive, but I’m a stranger here, and I should like to know your name. - Grumpfl’. I’ve been ten years in your lordship’s service, but if your lordship wishes me to mention my name, I’m delighted to humour your lordship’s joke. It’s Grumpfi". . Real Hans. Grnmpff, of course. Ha, ha! (Aside) I suppose I ought to have known that. Grumpfi’. Ha, ha! He’s been drinking. Real Hans. It’s my amusing way, my friends. (Sees TnarusSA.) Hallo, Theresa ! Don’t you know me? Theresa. N o, my lord—that is, I’ve seen you Real Hans. Seen me, that’s a good ’un. (C'huekles.) Why I’ve driven you up to market every day these twelve years. Therea. Driven me ? Oh, dear no ! Hans drives me always. Grampfl’ (aside). He's been drinking a good deal. (Aloud) My lord, I've organised the servants of the castle. I had to engage villagers for the purpose, but I’ve spent a fortnight in drilling them into their work. They’ve done pretty well, but I’ve several complaints to make. This girl, Maria, burnt the toast last night. Real Hans (going up to MARIA, and taking her hand). Ah, Maria, I’m so glad to see you, my dear! I hope they’vo made you pretty comfortable. Grumpfl’. I’ve ordered her seven days’ black-hole, and all her hair out off ! Real Hans. What! Maria? Grumpfl”. Yes. She actually burnt the toast! Real Hans. Oh, dear me, you shouldn’t have done that, Grumpff. You mustn’t out off Maria’s hair, you know. Maria and I are very old friends, and I couldn’t hear of such a thing. Grumpf. Oh. he’s mad ! quite mad ! Real Hans. Any more complaints ? Grumpfl. Lots! Theresa has dry bread and water for a fortnight. Real Hans. Theresa fed on dry bread! Theresa, who had such an appetite, too? Ho, ho! Why what has she done? . 256 THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK’. Grumpfi. Spilt the milk! A pint! Real Hans. Oh dear, dear, you mustn’t punish Theresa for spilling a pint of milk ! Grumpfl’. Not punish her ? Real Hans. Not on any consideration. Why how hungry she must be! Now look here, Grumpff, I’m sorry to trouble you, but you’ll oblige me very much if you’ll be so good as to fetch Theresa two or three nice slices of galantine and a bottle of—- What would you like a bottle of, Theresa ? Theresa. Hock. Real Hans. And a bottle of hock. Will you be so good ? Grumpfl’. Eh? Oh, of course, if your lordship wishes it! Real Hans. You don’t mind ? Grunipf. Oh dear no ! not at all. Real Hans. Well, trot along, Grumpfll Mind—the best . hock! Maria. Why, he’s as mild as curds and whey ! And Grumpff told us you were a devil ! Real Hans. The devil he did! Grumpfi, did you tell these ladies I was a devil? _ Grumpfi’ (aside). Ladies ! (Aloud.) Yes, my lord, I did. And so you are! Real Hans. Oh, Grumpff, you shouldnn‘ have told ’em that. That 'was very unkind of you, Grumpfil I wouldn’t have believed it of you, Grumpff—I wouldn’t indeed! Now, my dears, if you will be so good as to go into the hall, Grumpff will see that you have everything of ' the best, won’t you, Grumpff ? And if he doesn’t, let me know, my dears, and he shall be dis- charged. Grumpfll It’s my belief I’m fast asleep and dreaming. (Aloud.) My lord, I don’t know whether I’m asleep or awake-— will your lordship be good enough to pinch me? Real Hans. With pleasure, Grumptf. Where would you like to have it? Grump_fi". In the calf of the leg, my lord, if you don’t mind? Real Hans. Certainly, Grumpff—here ? [Finches his leg. Grumpf (screaming). I’m awake! [Emeunt GRUMrFF and SEEvAETs laughing, L. Real Hans (surrounded by children). This is Bertha’s wedding day ! This morning she marries that fearful baron who’s at this moment occupying my body! And he’s a married man! And I can’t prevent it ! [Baby cries. 1st Child. Papa, baby’s hungry. Real Hans. I hear him, my dear, but I don’t know what to THE GENTLEMAN 11v BLACK. ' :57 give him; I ain’t used to children, my dear—it’s very awkward. Do you think he would like achop, and a glass of beer? Would it like a chop, then—a pickley wickley wee? 1 never did know anything about children. Take it away to Giunipff, my dear, and tell him to do all that’s necessary. (ELDEST 0H1L0 takes baby, and all CHILDREN go of.) Poor little things ! It’s a dreadful responsibility. Oh, Bertha, Bertha, what am I under- going on your account!’ Enter Br;a1‘uA, R. U. E. Bertha. My Lord! Real Hans. Bertha! you here? I came away here to get away gem you. Your lover probably awaits you. You’d better 0 to im. - g Bertha. Yes, my lord, but as you’ve engaged all my friends as your servants, I’ve come to ask if you will be so kind as to give thglgl a holiday this evening to enable them to be present at my we ing. Real Hans. Are you not afraid to present yourself before such a bloodthirsty vindictive villain as I am represented to be? Bertha. Oh, but everybody says you’ve changed so wonder- fully in the past fortnight, that you’re now just as mild and good-hegted asUm(yi' po'{)r glans used to bc! Real ans. se to e. Bertha. Yes. (Crying) He’s so strangenow! He swears so dreadfully, and he gets tipsy every night—so tipsy! so—so- ti sy. ‘ plteal Hans. The dissipated beast! Bertha. And when I won't sit on his knee—which I won’t— I won’t—I wo.\i"T do—he pinches me! Real Hans. The brute. I’ll pay him out for this! Bertha. Oh,_ its all my fault; I was so unkind to him that it turned his bram. _ But_I’m determmed to make amends for my WlCk61;iD9il5, ailig if lovmg-kmdness can brmg h1m round, he’ll soon e a rig agam. Soiw .-BERTr-IA. Ah, once he loved me blindly, All other girls above ! I treated him unkindly And sported with his love: I smiled on others sweetly And would not tell him why : I broke his heart completely A wretched girl am I ! Ah, me, a wretched girl am 1 ! IV. S 258 ' THE GENTLE./WAZV 11v BLA cs: His head is turned with sorrow: . He hates his’dearest friends—-‘ . I’ll marry him to-morrow, _ And then I'll make amends ! The grief with which he's laden I’1l lighten all my life: A gentle little maiden‘, A loving little wife! Ah me, I’ll try to makoamends l Ah me, I’ll try to make amends! ‘ [Emit BERTHA, L. Real Hans. Poor little girl !----And to think that all that devotion, under difficulties, she lavishes on that senseless brute, is, in reality, my property! -l_t’s enough to make a fellow swear that he’ll stick to his own body for the rest of his life! False Hans (without). Potz.tausend himmel Sackerment noch emmal! Where’s your.master? ’ Enter GaUiurrr, E.fOlll‘Q1ll/‘ed’ by) FhLsir. H.‘Ans, whom he is‘endeav¢ruring’to stop. '.; ' ' Grnmpfl”. Come, ‘come, ypung man,'this _won’t' do. _ _ 1 False Hans. Young inanl. you; _know whom you’re addressing, Grumpff? . __._ _ ‘ 1 _ _ __ _‘ _ _ - j_ ‘ __ Grumpf. Grumpff ! He calls me Gijumplf ! -Here come out of this! '_ . .' ' ' . _ [Collars him—'REAi. HA14ME. HALL. =91 ACT III. ’ is ScsNE.-—Same. The table L.C., should “be brought down level with the settee R.C., for this Act. ‘ Loan SAxMUNDEAM enters with Mr. PimrIT. Ld. Sam. (seated). The surrender of the estate, Mr. Parfit, can be made at once. Par. (seated). This very day. The mortgagee, Mr. Cramp- ton, attended, as agreed at the Rolls, made the usual affidavit, and applied for and obtained a final order of foreclosure. That order is the title deed shutting out your lordship’s equity to redeem. Ld. Sam. But the surrender—how is that to be effected ? Par. That must be done, of course, by a deed under seal. As you are anxious to conclude this matter to-day, I will endorse a short deed on the mortgage, which your lordship and Mr. Crampton will execute. Ld. Sar. That is all you have to say ? Par. As your legal adviser, that is all I have to say. But I think I am more than a legal adviser. I believe I am entitled to look upon myself as a friend. . Ld. Sam. Most certainly, a friend. Par. Thank you. Then speaking as a friend-—as a very true and devoted friend—let me implore you to consider whether you are acting reasonably in not making an eB'ort to preserve this old property? When Mr. Crampton is made acquainted with the circumstances, he will surely give time. Moreover, there are a dozen of your friends who would gladly afford you every facility. Even I myself, or my partner _Ld. Sax. Mr. Parfit, I will not hear you on this subject. Brantinghame is mortgaged to the very crows’ nests. An appeal to Mr. Crampton’s consideration is absolutely out of the question: and if I were to borrow money to stave off the evil day, I should be staving it off--—th.at is all—and that with money for which I can ofler no adequate security. I have said enough. Par. But the old place, in which nine generations of Sax- mundhams have been born, and have lived, and died! Ld. Sam. Mr. Parfit, I protest that these considerations should not be submitted to me. These are points that I have . 292 BRANTINGHAME HALL. no right to consider. Let me hear no more of this, I pray. Nay, sir, I insist. Par. As your lordship pleases. Your lordship has made me feel that I have outstripped my duty. [Rising to go. Ld. Sam. No, Parfit, no, my dear old friend (Taking Parfit’s hand.) Pardon me, if I spoke harshly, but I—I am much upset. I am an old man, and not strong—no, not strong. So you will pardon me, I know, and you will believe that all I would have said is, that I am resolved, and that I must not be gainsaid. I would have said this gently, Parfit, but—'I am unstrung. Par. Pray say no more. It must be—that is certain; Mr. Crampton is due in ten minutes. I will get the papers together without delay. [Emit PARFIT. Ld. Sam. (at fireplace). Yes, it must be. Oh, my old home, my old home! . Enter LADY SAxMosnHAn. Lady Sax. Has Mr. Parfit gone ? Ld. Sam. (seated). Yes, Janet, Mr. Parfit has gone. Lady Sam. He can give us no hope ? Ld. Saw. There is no room for hope. With hope we have done. Janet, the old Hall in which three centuries of Red- maynes have lived and died, must go! Lady Sam. (quietly). Then I will make the necessary pre- parations. Ld. Sam. We shall be poor, Janet. Lady Sam. That will matter but little, Saxmundham. We must live quietly. Ld. Sam. Very poor, Janet. Lady Sam. Well, we must live very quietly, my dear. That is all. Ld. Sam. Janet, we are mined! [Breaks down. Lady Sam. (going to him and sitting on his L.). My husband! My love of fifty years ago! My love, my cherished love of to- day! Come, be brave. There is such a thing as ruin, but take heart, my dear, it has not come to us yet. Ld. Sam. Why, Janet, my girl, we have nothing left! Lady Sam. Nay, we have much, for we have each other. Ld. Sam. Yes, it is true. ‘I ask your pardon. We have much, for we have each other. Lady Sax. In this half century, we have seen many changes. Children have been born to us, they have grown to manhood, and they have died in the very flower of their lives. Friends BRANTJNGHAME HALL. 293 have fallen around us as leaves in autumn. Our fortunes, that rose with the dawn of life have set'with its setting sun. But, throughout our changing fate, our love of long ago has been true to us-—it has never quitted us, even for one brief hour. Let us thank God for this true and staunch friend, for through- out it has been our most precious possession, and we have it still. Ld. Sam. My own dear lady! . Lady Sam. In pain. sorrow and sickness, in the birth- chamber, in the death-chamber, have we not turned to one another for comfort, and have we ever turned in vain? Ld. Sam. No, no! Never! Never! (They rise.) As we were to one another in the sweet old days of courtship, when life was bright, and hope was young and strong, so are we now in the evening of our days—so shall we be, till the long night comes. For I am as I have ever been, your ladyship’s most devoted and most faithful lover! [Kisses her hand with old'fashioned courtesy. Enter ALAn_1c. Alar. Father, I hear that you want to speak to me. Ld. Sam. Alaric, my dear boy, I have just broken some grievous news to your dear mother, and she has borne it superbly. It will affect you seriously, my boy. Bear it as she has done Alar. Why, what has happened ? Ld. Sam. My dear child, a fortnight ago you told your mother of your attachment to the daughter of my old friend Thursby. Mabel will be rich—very rich, and I had good reason to believe that your own fortune would, in some measure, balance hers. But that is so no longer. I am a penniless old man, and you will have to make your own way. To do this, it will be necessary that you go to India for some years. Under these circumstances, it is your duty, my dear fellow, to absolve Mabel from her promise. [Goes up. Alar. Absolve Mabel from her promise! [Crosses to LADY SAxMUsnHAaL Lady S. (on sofa). Oh, my poor boy! Ld. Sam. (coming down). For a time. You will have little, very little to live upon, and no son of mine would ever lay him- self open to the suspicion of being a fortune-hunter. So you will give me your promise not to take advantage of the regard that the child has for you, but to explain to her, frankly and honourably, the position in which you are placed. _ BRANTINGHAME HALL. 295 Alma Miss Thursby, I am doing you a justice. I must go to India for some years, and I’ve promised my father that, in the meantime, I will abstain from communicating with you, except on the footing of a mere acquaintance. For, as he says very truly, you are not old‘ enough to judge for yourself. Mab. (turning to ALARIC). That’s very rude of him. Surely seventeen is the very prime of life ! Alar. (bowing gravely). It would certainly seem so. Mab. Then we are to be Mr. Redmayne and Miss Thursby, I .suppose, in future. Ala.r. Yes; I believe that is what happens when an engage- 'ment is broken of. (Takes her hand mechanically.) I beg your pardon. (Releases it.) Force of habit. Mab (seated). Then, Mr. Redmayne, I am greatly concerned to hear of your serious loss. Alar. Miss Thursby, accept my sincere thanks for your sympathetic condolence. [ALARI0 sits on sofa. ll/fab. I presume that the loss of your fortune will not mate- rially affect your political principles, Mr. Redmayne ? Alar. No, Miss Thursby. Nothing has happened to shake my conviction that property should be equally divided. In fact, .I am more of that opinion than ever. May I trust that separa- tion from your political preceptor will not endanger the stability of your own convictions? Mub. (rising, enthusiastically). No; I shall always be an out-and-out Radical, in memory of the dear old days of poetry and sentiment ! It is a Radical that I am, isn’t it, Ric ? [Crossing to ALARIo. Alar. Yes, Mab. Oh, I forgot. Jl/lab. So did I ! ‘ AIM. Accept, I beg, my sincere apologies, Miss Thursby. [Rises. Mab. Mr. Redmayne, we were both in fault. So you are going away for two years ? Alar. Yes, two or three years! Mab. (sighing). It’s a long time to be separated from you, dear Mr. Redmayne! I suppose I may say, “dear Mr. Redmayne ? ” Alma Well, I don’t know. It’s rather strong, isn’t it, to a mere acquaintance ? " Mab. \Nhy, I should say that at the beginning of a letter to a mere acquaintance! Alar. True, so you would. It’s a very good test. I think “ dear Mr. Redmayne ” may be conceded. Mab. Dear, dear Mr. Bedmayne ! [Sighing. 296 AAAAWZZAVGA/AME HALAZ. Alar. Dear, dear Miss Thursby | [Sighing. Mab. Then I suppose I may say that I am yours faithfully 2 Because that is what I should say at the end of a letter to a mere acquaintance. Alar. True: you would say, “yours truly,” or “yours faithfully.” I think “yours faithfully” may be conceded. Mab. Then I am yours, Ric—yours—yours—faithfully— oh, how faithfully Always, always faithfully ! So faithfully | So faithfully | [Sobs in his arms. Alar. And I am yours—yours, Mab—so truly, oh, so truly 1 Ever, ever, most truly yours | [Embrace. MABEL then withdraws herself demurely; goes towards door stops, turns and looks at ALARIC —they are about to rush into each other's arms, but they suddenly check themselves. Mab. Good morning, Mr. Redmayne ! Alar. Good morning, Miss Thursby ! (Exit MABEL.) How true it is a fellow never knows what he can do till he tries. If anyone had told me, an hour ago, that I could have schooled myself to address Mabel upon a footing of the coldest and most ceremonious formality, I should have questioned his sanity ! [Exit ALARIC. Enter RALPH CRAMPTON and Mr. PARFIT. Par. If you will take a seat, Mr. Crampton, his lordship will be with you directly. Ralph (seated). Good. I suppose I may take it Mr. Parfit, that Lord Saxmundham is much distressed at losing Brantinghame? Par. He is greatly, terribly distressed, Mr. Crampton, though he bears it with wonderful composure. Ralph. Ha! Mr. Parfit, I'm afraid you think me a very hard-hearted and vindictive creditor. Par. Sir, it is not form to comment on your action in this ' His lordship its that you are well within your rights. Ralph. So I m. loubtedly am. Now, Mr. Parfit, I mean to astonish ighteen months ago, Arthur Red- mayne, acting ation supplied by Lord Saxmundham, inflicted an o' n me that might well have constituted me the life of both. But I am not the altogether remorseles- ake me to be, and time has, in some sort, dulled the y resentment. I have had the satisfaction of show xmundham that I have him completely BRAAV7 IAVGA/AME HALL, 297 and absolutely at my mercy. That mercy I am disposed to extend. Par. Mr. Crampton, I find it difficult to express my sense of your generosity. Ralph. It is not necessary. I have no desire to pose as a good angel, for I assure you I am nothing of the kind. Par. If you will allow me, I will tell him the good news without delay. [Going. Ralph (rising). No, I wish to tell him myself. Oblige me by saying no more than that I am here, and that I wish to speak to him. Par. As you please, sir. Be sure that I will lose no time. [Exit PARFIT. Ralph (seated on sofa). Yes, Saxmundham, the account may be said to be closed between us. I have set my heel upon your neck, and to such a man as you, that is punishment enough. It is well for you that I am rich. It is even better for you that I am disposed to remember that my quarrel is not so much with you, as with your dead son. [During this speech RUTH crosses the gallery from L. to R., and comes down the stairs L. Ruth. Ralph Crampton You here ? Ralph (rising much agitated). Mrs. Redmayne ! This is a strange meeting : I did not know that you were in England. - [RUTH pauses for a moment, then moves to leave the room. Ralph (up stage). Mrs. Redmayne-–pray hear me ! Ruth (down stage). I have no wish to hear you. I think of you with terror and shame. Let me pass you. Ralph. Mrs. Redmayne, go if you will; but you have greatly misjudged me. It is perhaps no fault of your own that you have done so, for I have been cruelly misrepresented to you. Ruth. There is no need to say this. I judge you from my own knowledge of your wicked nature. Ralph. Of that nature you know nothing. I loved you deeply, | with an unspeakable devotion. It may be that I had no All you this, but I was carried beyond myself. I was und, like a madman, I spoke madly. That love has d me ever since. It has haunted me as a nightmare ecked my peace of mind. Tell me to leave you, ; but, in common mercy, tell me in gentle words It is enough that you, who had a wife, dared to S to me. I care to know no more. [Crosses l, Yes, I had a wife—an unworthy wife, who left 298 BRA N TINGIIA ME HALL. Her misconduct was a shame to me, and I hid my shame away. When I spoke to you, I had already taken steps to break the chain that bound me to her. I spoke with the certainty that in a few weeks I should be free. I have proofs of the truth of my words—you cannot refuse to hear them! Ruth. I refuse utterly. ' It concerns me not to know. I think of you as one to be shunned, and as one would shun a sin. I am set against you. Ralph. (with suppresed fur_1/). It is well. I am answered—- fully and finally answered. You do not know what you have done. I will tell you. I hold Lord Saxmundhaufs welfare in the hollow of my hand. It is in my power to ruin him—your dead husband’s father—by a stroke of the pen. You under- stand me? It is in my power to crush the light out of his life, and send him, a miserable pauper, to his grave. I came here to-day with some sort of pity in my heart for the broken old man—with the germ of that which, under fostering circum- stances, would have developed into mercy. But such an insult —such an atrocious insult—as you have placed upon me, it is not within man’s nature to endure. There is no room within me for mercy; so with mercyl have done. [Turns away to L.(:. Ruth. Mr. Crampton Ralph. It is useless to appeal. You have spoken words that cannot be withdrawn. Ruth. Mr. Crampton, I am not a woman who withdraws her words. I speak plainly, and my words tell you what is in my heart. Still, it may be that you will not do this thing. You are my enemy, for the words that I have spoken. That is natural. But to strike at me through a helpless old man, who is dear to me—t0 stifle the mercy that had begun to plead for him, because I, who am nothing to him, have angered you, is the act of a coward; and it may well be, Ralph Crampton, that you are not a coward. [Emit RUTH. Ralph. A curse on the ill -fortlme that caused you to cross my path at such an hour! You count on my love? Yes, I love you, but take heed, Ruth Iledmayne, for there is a love that is more like hate than hate itself! . Enter LOan SAxMUNDHAM and ME. PARrIT. Ld. Sam. Sir, I have come to hear what you have to say to me. Mr. Parfit is my solicitor, and I prefer that what takes place between us should take place in his presence. [PARI'‘n' sits at table. Ralph. Lord Saxmuudham, -I have little to say thatit will BRA N T INGHA ME HALL. 299 please you to hear. I am here, as arranged, to take over your equity of redemption. Pa/r. (rist'ng.) Mr. Crampton! Sir! Ld. Sam. (seated). Hush, Ipray. (To RALrH.) Sir you will understand that when I undertook that the mortgage debt and interest should be paid into Court at a given day, I believed myself to be a man of wealth and substance. I—I have since been undeceived. I am advised that the surrender must be under seal, and Mr. Parfit is prepared to endorse such a deed on the mortgage. Pm". Mr. Crampton !—nay, my lord, I will speak! Sir, you have most cruelly misled me as to the object of your visit. You told me that you came to inform his lordship that you were disposed to be merciful Ld. Sam. (peremptorily). Mr. Parfit, I insist that you will not speak of mercy in relation to myself! On pain of my displeasure, sir! It is not a word that I am accustomed to introduce into my dealings with my creditors. The money is due, and 1 cannot pay it. That is all. Mr. Parfit, you will be so obliging as to prepare the surrender without delay. . Enter RUTH and ME. Tmmsnv, hurriedly. . Thurs. One moment, Saxmundham Ruth. Stay, Lord Saxmundham. I must speak to you. Ld. Sam. This is an unaccountable interruption. Thursby, what does it mean ? Thurs. It means, Saxmundham, that this poor great-hearted lady has just learnt that you are in grave trouble, and she insisted upon coming to you at once. I am ashamed to say that I did my best to prevent her, but, thank Heaven,_ inetfectually ! Ruth. Yes, you must listen to me. I came to England to be a daughter to a bereaved iather—not to take an old man’s inheritance from him. If you will not take the wealth that was your son’s you cannot at least, prevent my paying this man his claim. Ld. Sam. Madame, I thank you, but it is impossible for me to entertain such a proposal. Thurs. (standing behind LOan SAxMUNDHAM). Now, Sax- mundham, don’t be Quixotic. There will be no obligation on either side. Reduced to its elements, Mrs. Redmayne, who is one of the shrewdest women of business I ever met, invests £18,000 at 4% per cent. on unimpeachable security! Capital woman of business, Mrs. Redmayne ! BRA N T INGHA ME HALL. 303 Ruth. I have nothing to add to what I have already said. Thu/ra. (ru¢y"ulIy‘). Well ma’am, then I suppose I’ve no right to oppose your intention to go. I dare say I ought to be glad to get rid of you. But I've grown to be very fond of you, ma’am—very fond indeed—and—and you’ve behaved abomin- ably—and—and—(Enter MABEL). Now, Mabel, my good girl, why do you invariably came in at highly inconvenient moments ? Mab. Papa, I’m very sorry. I did not know you were busy. [Going. Ruth (down). Mr. Thursby, I want very much to speak to Mabel. (Aside to 'I‘HURsBY.) I pray that you will not refuse me this. It is for the last time. I—I will do her no harm. T hm-s. Well, I don’t know. I oughtn’t to, you know. But there—there’s a hat-fall of good in you, I verily believe—and its for the last time, poor soul. (Crosses to Poor soul! Poor soul! [Emit TnUnsnY R. Mab: Mrs. Redmayne, what has distressed you? Why have you been weeping? Ruth (on sofa.) Why have I been weeping, my dear? Why, I bring you good news, and when we bring good news to those we love, our hearts swell, and you see that is why I weep. Mab (sitting on her R.) You bring good news to me ? Ruth. Yes, great news. I have just left Lord Saxmundham. He was mistaken in believing that ruin had come upon him. He is rich and happy, and it should not be needful that Alaric should leave you, and so a burden will be lifted from your own heart, and your father will be glad when he sees that his little daughter’s eyes are bright again! Mub. Alaric will not go away from me ! Oh, Mrs. Redmayne, you have done this! [Kneeling on RUTn’s E. Ruth. Yes. Do not ask me more. I have done this. _ Mab. If there is any virtue in the prayers of two broken- hearted lovers, whom stern necessity has placed upon a footing of mere acquaintanceship, they are yours from the bottom of our hearts! [Kisses her. Ruth. And now, my child, I am going to make you sorry. A great trouble has befallen me, and it is needful that I return at once to Australia. Mftb. Oh, Mrs. Redmayne, are you saying “ good-bye ” to me ? Ruth. I have something more to say than _“good-bye.” I may never see you again, and I ask you to promise me, if ever you hear ill of me, not to believe it, but to believe that there is something kept back—something which, if it were known, would clear me of all blame. It will gladden me to know, 304 m,41vr11vcz1/ma HALL. when I am far away, that there is one little heart in England into which my memory may creep for shelter, when the pitiless storm breaks upon it. Mab. Oh, I promise! I promise I never, never, never will I believe any one who says anything against you! Oh, Mrs. Redmayrfe, tell them what it is, and look at them with those brave, steadfast, truthful eyes, and they will believe! Ruth. It would be useless, Mabel. (Rising.) And now, good-bye, my dear! Oh, my dear, good-bye! [Embraces her—then turns towards the door— stops, tRurns-—they rush into each other‘s arms. Then emit UTH. Enter TrwnsnY. Thurs. (_ to Mabel, who is sobbing on the sofa). Mabel, my girl ! Come, come, you mustn’t cry like this ! Mab. Oh, she’s going—going from me, never to return ! °[Sobs. Thurs. Well, yes, she certainly is going-—that is to say—oh, yes, she’s going. Mab. But why is she going, and why don’t you stop her? Thurs. Why, she’s going because she—well, she has an appointment with her solicitor in Australia—and she’s got some shopping to do in Sydney. Mab. (rising). I don’t believe a word of it. There’s some wicked plot to send her away. (THUBSBY interrupts her with attempts to emplain.) But 1’ll find out what it is, if I die for it, you great, big, cruel, hard-hearted papa ! [Emit MABEL. Thurs. Now, why will women do things that can’t be explained to young girls? A woman ought always to argue thus : “Can what I'm going to do be explained to young girls ? No, it cannot. Then, dash my wig, if I do it !” Enter PARKER. Par. (announcing). Mr. Parfit. Enter PARrIT. Emit PAam<:R. 'l'hurs. Hallo, Parfit! Well, here’s a pretty kettle of fish! Par. Yes, Mr. Thursby; it certainly is extremely serious. . [Sits on sofa. k Thurs. There’s a thundering lot of good in that woman, you now . Par. Yes, I daresay there is. 'l‘here’s good in all of us, if we only knew it. But I suppose it is unnecessary to remind you BRANT11VGHAME HALL. 305 that by uttering a forged will, to say nothing of the other docupments, she has brought herself within the pale of the law . Thurs. Well, what then ? You don’t expect me to prosecute her, I suppose? Par. As you please, Mr. Tbursby. But it’s my duty to remind you, as one of the trustees under the will which this forgery was intended to set aside, that if you don’t prosecute her, you will be compounding a felony. Thurs. Felony, be hanged! It’s a family matter, entirely between ourselves. How is it to get about ? [Crosses to R.0. Par. You forget Mr. Crampton. He is her declared and relentless enemy. If he should persist in prosecuting this unhappy woman, what would you do ? Thurs. My dear Parfit, what an absurd question. Break every bone in his body, of course! The things obvious. Par. (rising). Well, Mr. Thursby, I’ve no wish to see this poor lady punished; but it was my duty to advise you, and I’ve done it. Thurs. It was as you say, my dear Parfit, your duty to advise me, and it was equally my duty to pitch your advice to the devil. Very good; you've done your duty, and I’ve done mine. It’s a pleasant reflection. Let’s shake hands on it. RALrH CRAMrTON has entered during this speech. Ralph (down L.c.). Mr. Thursby, I must ask you to hear me on this matter. Thurs. Mr. Crampton, I prefer to have nothing to say to ou. y Ralph. Very likely, but you must and shall hear me! Thurs. (with suppressed rage). Mr. Crampton! sir! I can guess the abominable motive which has prompted you to present yourself here. Anticipating this interview, I have taken the precaution, as a magistrate, to bind myself over to keep the peace towards all her Majesty’s subjects for the space of three calender months. That will give you a good start, sir! I advise you to make the most of it. ' Ralph. Mr. Thursby, I have something of graver import to deal with than any terms of reproach you can frame. I have been witness, this afternoon, to an act of heroic devotion on the part of a most pure and blameless lady. It has moved me as I am not wont to be moved; the more so because my indefensible conduct is the cause of the inestimable sacrifice she has made. 1v. x 306 BRA./VTIIVGHAME HAL/.. RUTH has entered unobserved. _ Thurs. Why, what do you mean, sir ? Ralph. That Mrs. Redmayne, in denying her marriage, has uttered the noblest falsehood that ever fell from the lips of woman. I know Mr. Noel Ross, and I had it from his own lips, after Arthur Redmayne’s departure, that he had solemnised this marriage. Thurs. (turning to RUTH). Madam, is this true? Ruth (up stage). It is true. [Tnnnsnv grasps her hand. Ralph. It is impossible for me to approach Lord Saxmundham on the subject, so 1 have brought my repentance to you, in the belief that you will be willing to turn it to this blameless lady's advantage. I beg you most earnestly, in the name of common justice, to communicate with Mr. Noel Ross, that my statement may be corroborated. Thurs. Now, if any one will show me how to treat an infernal rascal who has done an uncommonly fine thing, I shall be per- sonally indebted to him! [Grosses to R. “Ralph. I put forth no plea for consideration. I have most deeply wronged this lady, and I will leave nothing undone until I have atoned. [Going L. Ruth. Mr. Crampton—before you go, will you let me tell you that, from my heart, I pity and pardon you? It will, perhaps, comfort you in the days to come to remember this. Ralph. Mrs. Redmayne, I believe there is no act of generosity of which you are not capable. From my very heart I thank you. [E:l;it_RALrH CRAMrTON. Thurs. Now, there’s a fellow I should like to knock down with.one hand and pick up with the other ! (To RUTH, taking her hand in his.) My dear young lady—my very dear young lady, I deserve to be kicked for having believed you. If you’re an average sample of Australian produce, the sooner a ship-load of you is shot into London society the better! Parfit, Lord Saxmundham is a sticklor for nobility. Let us go and prove to him that Heaven has blessed him with the noblest daughter in England! ‘ Exeunt THUBSBY and PARrIT. Ruth. Ralph Crampton, your eart was slow to turn; your eyes were closed. 'l‘o open them it needed that a woman should clothe herself with shame. That has been done; and now, you see! ~ _ ' Enter PARKER with card. Par. A gentleman wishes to seeyou, 1na’am. _ Ruth. To see me ! Who can wish to see me? [Reads card. 308 ARAMTINGHAME HALL. rejoice the souls and brighten the lives of their fathers—and their mothers—and their children—and their loving, faithful, mourning wives ! Ruth (who has become hysterical during the latter part of this speech). Noel Ross! Noel Ross ! Why do you speak of mourning wives to me? [Rising. Ross (rising). Now, my dear, be calm; bear this like a good and brave woman. Ruth. Tell me all ! You speak in parable ! You could not tell me of such things, unless—Oh speak—speak! Ross. My dear child, there is a happiness so overwhelming, that it calls for all our strength to bear it ! ARTHUR REDMAYNE rushes in, and folds RUTH in his arms. Ross crossing behind him. Red. Ruth, my own Ruth ! Ruth. My husband ! my husband ! Oh, my husband Red. Ruth, my darling, look up—I am alive and well ! I have come to be with you, my own to love, to cherish, and to comfort you until death comes to us in very deed! Look up, my darling, we will never part again! [Puts her over to R.). [RUTH shows symptoms of fainting—recovers—looks at her husband—then seems likely to faint again. She steadies herself with an effort, turns to NoFL Ross, and as she kneels, says, “Let us pray!” CREATURES OF IMPULSE. A MUSICAL FAIA Y TALE - IN ONE ACT. First performed at the Royal Court Theatre (under the management of Miss M. Litton) on April 2nd, 1871. CREATURES OF’ IMPULSE. SCENE.—Emie7‘i0r. of “ The Three Pigeons,” a Country Inn ; entrance to inn, R. ; entrance through gate, 0. J mooEs and VrrmAGEns discovered. OrENING Cnonus. Did you ever know a lady So particularly shady, ' Though a very nice old party she was thought to be ? I could see upon my honour, When I first set eyes upon her, That she wasn't any better than she ought to be. Enter BooMsLEHAEnT, L., with a very large bag of gold—they shake hands with him. Boomblehardt. I give you good morning, ladies. I give you good morning, Peter. Jacques. What, for nothing? Boom. Yes, I don't charge for it. 1st Villager. Why, Master Boomblehardt, you’re getting liberal in your old age. Boom. Yes, my dear, yes—-he’s but a churl that keeps all his happiness to himself. It’s a lovely day! the very trees are waving their long arms in ecstasy at the bright blue sky above them, and the bright green fields below them; and the pretty little birds are oarolling a hymn of gratitude from their very topmost branches. It is indeed a good morning, and I give it you—I give it you! Jacques. You've got some more happiness in that long bag of yours, if one may judge by the chink of it. Can’t you spare some of that? ’ Boom. Ha, ha! Do you know what that is? It’s go-0-0-old! 2nd V. All gold? Boom. Yes, my dear, all go-0-0-old! It’s my poor little rents that I’ve been collecting. . CREATURES or IMPULSE. 313 3rd V. Why, she’ll be starved! Martha. No; she says she never felt better in her life. She says that food always disagrees with her! hPeter. It disagrees with me sometimes, but I take it for all t at! 1st V. Why don’t you turn her out neck and crop? Martha. Turn out a woman who can live on nothing for three weeks ? Why, she’s a fairy! She’d be in again through the keyhole in a twinkling ! Peter. I know how to prevent that. Martha. How ? Peter. Stuff up the key-hole. Martha. Peter, you’re a goose. Enter P1rETTn, running from L. U. E. Pipette. Oh, aunt, aunt ! I've such news for you! (Sees V1L- LAeEEs.) Oh, I didn’t know anybody was here. Oh, I beg your pardon! Oh, gracious ! Oh, how extremely awkward ! Martha. Why, what’s the matter with the girl? Pipette. Oh, I’m so confused! Martha. Why, what has confused you? Pipette. Oh, it’s all these people! Oh, please go away! Oh, I can’t bear people! Boom. Why, bless the girl, how shy she is! Martha. Shy! there isn’t a greater donkey in the country. Why, there’s a portrait of her great grandfather in her bedroom, and she always turns its face to the wall before she does her hair. Pipette. Well, I’ve been properly brought up. A young girl can’t be too particular. Peter. But what has happened ? Pipette. Oh, I can’t tell you before all these people! Oh, please send them away ! lst V. Oh, I’m sure, if we're in the way? [Emit into inn. 2nd V. If it’s very improper, we wouldn’t hear it for the world. But I dare say Mr. Boomblehardt and Peter won’t mind. [Emit into inn. 3rd V. Put it to them as delicately as you can, Jenny. A young girl can’t be too particular. [Emit into inn. Boom. Well, now that they’re gone, what is it? If it’s imperence, whisper! Pipette. Oh, if you please it’s a sergeant, and he’s coming here! Martha. A sergeant! Well, and what is there to blush at in that ? 314 CREA TURES . OF IMPULSE. Pipette. Oh, but he’s such a long sergeant! You can’t think what a long sergeant he is! And oh, if you please, he’s got a moustache and all sorts of dreadful things. Martha. A sergeant? It must be the famous Sergeant Klooque, who distinguished himself at Johannesberg—he’s the bravest soldier in His Majesty’s service. This is his native village, and he wrote to me to say that he would be here in the course of the week—on furlough. He’s going to make the Three Pigeons his headquarters. r Pipette. A live sergeant coming to stop with us? Martha. Certainly. ‘ Pipette. Oh, then, if you please, and if it’s quite convenient, I should like to retire from the world and go into a monastery. lllartha. A monastery ? So should I. Pipette. Oh, if you please, I mean a nunnery. Peter. A nunnery? So should I. Martha. Nonsense ; stop here and welcome the brave gentle- man, and if you don’t do it well you shall marry Peter to- morrow. Now, Master Boomblehardt, if you’ll step into the house we’ll see what we can do for you. Boom. By all means. Allow me to present you with—-— Martha. With what, for gracious sake ? Boom. My arm. Exeunt BooMnLEEARnT and MARTHA into the house. Pipette (crying). Oh dear,-oh dear, what shall I do? I don’t know how to welcome a brave gentleman. Peter. Don’t welcome him. Pipette. But if I don’t I shall have to marry you to-morrow. Peter. Never mind—it’ll serve me right. Pipette. But I hate brave gentlemen. Peter. But I am not a brave gentleman. Pipette. You ? You’re the greatest coward between this and Trent. Peter. I am a coward. Pipette. I hate a brave gentleman, but I detest a coward. Peter. All men are cowards. Pipette. What ? Jacques Bonpré, who gave you that thrash- ing at Bontemps fair, and Pierre Pontois, who tied you on your horse wrong side before, for trotting over his turnips? And Jean Leroux, who dragged you through a horse pond for plundering his egg-roosts ? _ Peter. All cowards ?—I’ve a theory about that. In danger, all men are equally frightened, but some men have the power of concealing their fears-—others haven’t. I’m one of those who CREATURES OF IMPULSE. 315 haven’t. Some men are afraid to own that they are frightened —other men are not. I’m one of those who are not. Pipette. Well, at all events Sergeant Klooque is a brave man, and I advise you to be civil to him. Oh dear, oh dear, what shall I do ?—How I do hate a man! Peter. So do I. Pipette. Oh, how Iwish the world was full of women ! Peter. So do I. _ . _ ' Pipette. Now, I’m not at all afraid of women. . Peter. No more am I. . Pipette. I like women. Peter. So do I ! Pipette. But men are so-—so-—soi- Peter. Oh, they are— — Pipette. What? Peter. So—so. Very so—so. Pipette. I mean they are so fond of staring at one, and putting their arms round one’s waist, and squeezing one‘s hand.‘ Peter. Yes, it’s their way; I’ve done it myself. Pipette. They wink too. Peter. Yes, they would. Pipette. Now, women never winkat me. They let me alone. Peter. They let me alone, too, worse.luck. Pipette. You can say what you like to a woman—at least I mean I can. But I can’t even look at 'a man. Peter. You can look at me. Pipette. I don’t call you a man. Peter. Well, don’t call him a man, and then you can say what you like to him. He won’t mind it. Pipette. That/s impudent. Peter. It’s meant to be. Pipette. If you want to be impudent, why don’t you be impudent to a man? Peter. Oh, I should be a fool! Why, he’d box my ears! Pipette. And you pretend to love me! Peter. Exaet1y—I pretend to love you. That’s all. It. amuses you and gratifies me. (Aside) I’ll show her that she’s not going to ride rough-shod over me! .(Aloud.) _You’.ve got my snug little farm in your eye. Pipette. Peter! Peter. Well? Pipette. Peter, you’re a pig! Peter. A pig ? Pipette. A pig! _ Peter. Then you’ve got my snug little sty in your eye! 316 CREA TURES 01¢ IMPULSE. Enter SEBGEANT KLooonE. Serg. Young lady, I salute you! The hero of J ohannesberg salutes you ! Pipette. Oh, my goodness, he’s going to salute me! Peter, if he salutes me, I’ll scream! Serg. The young lady appears alarmed ? Peter. The young lady is very shy. Serg. Shy ? Peter. Yes. You soldiers are such disreputable dogs. Pipette. Oh yes, if you please, sir, you soldiers are such disreputable dogs! Oh, if you please, I didn't mean that ! Oh, my ! what a dreadful thing to have said ! . Serg. Some soldiers are—but not the Hussars of the King’s Body Guard. Our Colonel is extremely particular. Serg. A soldier of the King’s hussars, Although a gallant son of Mars ; To no one may he be gallant, Except his mother and his aunt ! All. Except his mother and his aunt ! Pipette. A very proper rule indeed, And one that surely should succeed. Peter. But don’t you find it rather slow-— Monotonous, in fact? Serg. Oh no ! Each warrior who joins our corps, Can count his mothers by the score ; And as for aunts—as I’m alive- Each grenadier has thirty-five ! All. Each grenadier has thirty-five. Peter. I shonldn’t like to serve with him ; One's aunts are elderly and grim. Pipette. ' One's mothers too, as facts will show, Are always aged dames. Serg. Oh, no! The griinmest aunt in all our corps, Is seventeen—or little more ; The oldest mother’s age may be, A little short of twenty-three! ENSEMnLE. Peter and Pipette. Oh, Sergeant, I begin to take! I’m much afraid that you’re a rake ! Serg. My meaning they begin to take, It’s pretty clear that ’m a rake ! Enter MARTHA from inn. Martha. Sergeant Klooque, as I’I alive. Serg. Mistress Martha ! I/Vhy, how pretty you’re grown! CREATURES OF IMPULSE. 317 Martha. This is indeed a distinction you have conferred on us! Pipette. Oh! Martha. Well, what’s the matter with the girl ? Pipette. Oh, if you please, I was thinking that the sergeant has had so many distinctions conferred on him, that he can afford to spare us one. Oh, if you please, I didn’t mean that! Oh, dear, what have I said! Martha. And what a big man you’ve grown! Why, you were a little drummer boy when you left us, and now you’re a gigantic sergeant! Serg. Yes, I’ve risen in the service. Peter. And some day, I suppose, you’ll be an officer ? Serg. Yes—but that will be a long time first. Pipette. Oh! All. Well ? Pipette. Oh, if you please, I was thinking, if you’re six foot long as a sergeant, how long will you be before you’re a captain ? ()h, if you please, I didn’t mean that ! Oh, my! I wish I hadn’t spoken. , Martha. Pipette, you’re a goose. (To SnnonArrT.) But we’re very glad to see you, and I hope you’ll make the Three Pigeons your home as long as your furlough lasts. Serg. With pleasure, Martha. I’ve been roughing for the last six months, and it’s no little treat to look forward to six weeks’ holiday in a pretty inn, in a pretty village, with a pretty landlady to look after 0ne’s wants. [Puts his arm round her waist. Pipette. Oh, if you please, aunt, perhaps your son would like to see his room. Martha. My son ? Pipette. Your nephew, then I Martha. My nephew ? Pipette. Oh, if you please, I thought he must be one or the other, as his Colonel is very strict, and only allows his soldiers to kiss their mothers or their aunts. Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t said that ! Oh my! what a dreadful thing to have said! Serg. When a soldier is on furlough, discipline is relaxed. (Kisses MARTHA.) But why are you sighing ? Martha. I’m thinking of my old lady. She won’t pay my rent, and she’s eaten nothing and drunk nothing for a fortnight, and she looks as plump as .ever! (Mystert'ously.) She’s a fairy . Peter. Bah! Martha. Eh ? 318 CREATURES OF IMPULSE. Peter. Stufi ! I don’t believe it. ’ Martha. And why ? _ " Peter. Fairies do everything with a wand, don’t they I Martha. Well? Peter. Well, she cleans her teeth with a toothbrush, l’ve seen her. ‘ Martha. Peter, you’re a goose! Pipette. I say, Peter. Peter. Well? Pipette. It’ll be a bad look-out for you and me about Michaelmas! Serg. Suppose we tackle the old lady by turns. Martha. Ah, but who’ll begin ? Peter (boldly). I will. All. You. Peter. I. She’s no more a fairy than I am—she’s an ugly old woman, and I’d rather tackle one ugly old woman than a dozen handsome men. Afraid of an old woman! Why, the older they are the less I fear ’em! Emeu-nt 1’n‘nT'rs, MARTHA, and SERGEANT, to house, R. Enter OLD LADY, 0. Peter. Now for it. I say, old lady! 0. Lady. Well, young man ? Peter. I’ve a bone to pick with you. 0. Lady. Can’t stop, my ’time’s valuable. Peter. Oh, but you must! 0. Lady. Must, eh ? Peter. Do you see that ? (Showing his arm.) Feel it. 0. Lady. Mercy, what a ridiculous little arm! Peter (pointing to biceps). Do you know what that is ? 0 Lady. Well, I can guess ! - Peter. What is it? 0. Lady. I suppose it’s the bone you’re going to pick with me. W's may spare ourselves the trouble—there’s very little on it. ' ' ' Peter (in a rage). I say, I’m not accustomed to stand that sort of thing from a woman of your age, you know. 0. Lady. Do you. know my age? Peter. About eighty, I should say. (Aside) 'That’ll put her back up! 0. Lady. Eighty! Nonsense, I’m eight hundred and forty- two. Peter. Well, you don’t look it. 0. Lady. Peter, you’re a dangerous little man! CREATURES OF IMPULSE. 319 Peter. I am a dangerous little man as you’ll discover. Now, look here, ma’am. 0. Lady. I’m all attention, Peter! Peter. You’ve been here six weeks. 0. Lady. True. Peter. You’ve paid no rent. 0. Lady. None. Peter. You don’t mean to pay any. 0. Lady. _Not a penny. Peter. You don’t eat anything. 0. Lady. Nothing. Peter. You don’t drink anything. 0. Lady. Not a drop. Peter. And if you did you wouldn’t pay for it. 0. Lady. Not a penny. Peter. N ow hasn’t it occurred to you that on the whole you’re not a profitable customer ? 0. Lady. Yes, that reflection has occurred to me. But look at it from my point of view. If you could get all you wanted from a first-r-re inn without paying for it, how long would you stop there ? Peter. I should stop there until somebody did to me what I’m going to do to you. ‘ ' 0. Lady. What’s that ? Peter. Turn you out. C0me—toddle—trundle—vanish! . [He squares up to her as if about to strike her. 0. Lady. Why, Peter, would you strike an old woman ? Peter. Why not? you’re as big as I am. Besides you’ve less to lose. You are very ugly, and no amount of thrashing would make you uglier than you are. Now I am very beautiful, and a tap on the nose would play the very deuce with me ! Come —toddle ! ‘ [Squares up at her; 0. Lady. Very well, Peter, you’re a coward to square up at an old woman, and as a punishment you will be so good as to go on squaring up to every one you meet and telling them to “ Come on!” until further notice. Peter. What, squaring up like this ? (Squaring) Come on! 0. Lady. Yes, just like that. Peter. What, at everybody I eome across ? (S'quaring.) Come on! . _ _ 0. Lady. Yes, at everybody you come across. Peter. Big and little! (8 uaring.) Come on! 0. Lady. Yes,_bi and litae. ‘ eter (howling). gut they won’t like it! (Sguaring.) Come on ! CREATURES OF IMPULSE. 321 Serg. What, like this? (Du/cking.) Don’t! 0. Lady. Yes, like that. D Sery. But they’ll think I’m afraid of ’em ! (Duckiny.) on’t . 0. Lady. Sure to ! Serg. But 1’m not afraid of any one ! Don’t ! 0. Lady. No, you are the bravest man in the army! Serg. I shall lose my reputation! I shall be branded as a coward! Don’t! Enter PIrETTE from inn; she stares at SEnGEAwT in astonishment. Pipette. Oh, if you please, Mistress Marthais compliments, and have you been successful? Serg. N 0, she won’t go! (Ducking.) Don’t! Pipette. I wasn’t going to. Oh! if you please, what’s the matter ? Serg. Oh, it’s nothing! it’ll pass 05. (Dueh'ing.) Don’t! Pipette. Wouldn’t you like to lie down? I’m not going to hurt you. Serg. N 0, no, my dear, I’m quite well. (Ducking.) Don’t ! don’t ! Pipette. It’s your fun, I suppose ? Serg. Exactly. It’s my fun! [Ducking. 0. Lady. He’s showing you how he fought the enemy at J ohannesberg. Serg. No, my dear ! I’m showing you how the enemy fought us. This is the way they retreated. Don’t! don’t ! don’t! [Emit SmzosAzvT, ducking and barking. Pipette. What a strange young man! 0. Lady. He’s a very rude young man. Pipette. Rude ? 0. Lady. Yes. He put his arm round my waist. Pipette. Are you his mother ? 0. Lady. No, my dear, I’m not. Pipette. Nor his aunt? 0. Lady. No. Pipette. Then I'll tell his Colonel, and he’ll be flogged l 0. Lady. I should like to see him flogged. Pipette. So should I ! Oh my, what am I saying ? Oh, dear, I didn’t mean that! 0. Lady. Well, my dear, and what do you want ? Pipette. I want to ask you a great’——great favour. 0. Lady. Yes? ' ‘ 1v. Y 322. CREATURES OF IAJPULSE. . Pipette. You’re'such a dear old lady, that I‘m sure you’ll grant it. 0. Lady. Yes, I’m a pleasant old person. . Pipette. Although you’re past your prime, you’ve such bright; eyes, and such"red cheeks, and such a happy expression of countenance, that you’re prettier than many z young girl I know. 0. Lady. Yes, Pm attractive—attractive, nothing more. Pipette. Well, you’re such a dear old lady, and I’m so fond of you, and you’ve made yourself so pleasant and so agreeable, that what I want you to do is to—is to 0. Lady. Yes, is to—is to? Pipette. Is .to go. 0. Lady.‘ Go ? . Pipette. Go._ You see, they don’t appreciate you as much as 1 do. I think you’re a dear old lady-—perhaps the dearest old lady I ever saw, but they don’t. 0. Lady. Oh, they don’t ? Pipette. No, I can’t understand it, but it is so. Now, I’m sure you’re too proud-—too noble—too high-spirited to remain where you’re not wanted. Aren’t you, you dear—dear olrl lady ? (Kisses her.) Oh, I declare I could kiss those cherry cheeks all day long! . _ 0. Lady. All day long ? Pipette. All day long! [Kisses her. 0. Lady. Very good——you’re telling stories, my dear, and must be punished. As a punishment you will be so good as to go about offering to kiss and fondle every one you meet, until further notice. Pipette. What, like that? (Makes Ieissing noise.) Kiss me! 0. Lady. Yes, like that! Pipette. But people will think it so odd. Kiss me! 0. Lady. Yes, they’ll be surprised at first. _ Pipette. But I say—gentlemen and all? Kiss me! 0. Lady. Yes, gentlemen and all. Pipette. But they won’t like it! 0. Lady. Oh no, they won’t mind it. . Pipette. But I’m so shy ! I can’t look at a gentleman without blushing. Kiss 1e! , 0. Lady. Oh, you’ll get over your shyness after a year or two of that sort of thing. . . _ Pipette. Kiss me! Oh dear, oh dear, I don’t know what . -people will say! Kiss me! 0. Lady.. 1 do. They’ll say you quiet ones are always the worst. And so you are. ' ' CREATURES or IMPULSE. 323 Enter BooMnmEARbT from inn. Pipette. Oh dear, here’s that disgusting old wretch, Boomble- hardt. I hate the sight of him! (To BOOMBLEHABDT.) Kiss me. Boom. Certainly, my dear. [Kisses her. Pipette. How dare you take such a liberty! You insolent old man! Kiss me. Boom. Again! Why, of course. [Kisses her. Pipette. Oh, you disgusting old man! (Bomes his ears.) I‘ll . tell my aunt, and she’ll turn you out of doors, and you shall be hooted through the village. Kiss me. Boom. (puzzled). Thank you—no more this morning. Pipette. Thank you, I’m sure! Oh dear, oh dear! What Shall I do 7 [Emit crying into house. Boom. What a very strange girl. 0. Lady (seated). I am a very strange girl. Boom. Ah—I was not referring to you. But I want a word with you. I want to make a bargain with you. 0. Lady. Well, get on. Boom. Well, Mistress Martha has sent me to induce you to go; but I don’t want to do anything of the kind. .I want you to stay. So if you’ll fall in with my views, I’ll do all I can to prevent their turning you out. 0. Lady. Well, what are your views ? Boom. You have the wonderful gift of living without food. 0. Lady. Yes—I have that gift. Boom. For the last fifty years I’ve been trying to master that wonderful secret, but in vain. It’s true I’ve brought myself down to one hard-boiled egg and a tea-cup full of soup per diam, but I find even that a great drain on my resources. Now, if you’ll teach me how to live oomfortably—I don’t say luxuriously, but comfortably—on nothing at all, l’ll give you—- yes, I’ll give you a guinea! 0. Lady. You’ll give me a guinea? Boom. Yes—half down and half by a bill at six months. Well, come—say a guinea down. There, look at it! A whole guinea! Weigh it! Taste it! Look at the milling. Oh, it’s a beautiful guinea! [She takes it and tests it. 0. Lady. You’re a very mean old man, and you must be punished for it. You’ll have the goodness to go on ofiering guineas from your long bag to every one you meet until further notice. Boom. What, like this—Allow me to offer you a guinea? 0. Lady. Thank you. (Takes it.) Yes, like that. Boom. To every one I meet? CREATURES or 111001.35. 325 Serg. Hang the fellow, how shall I get rid of him? Stop, here’? Pipette—I have it! I’ll back from Pipette on to him . Enter PrrETTE from house, SERGEAN1‘ turns to her and backs from her on to BooMsLEHAsDT’s toes. -Boom. Here, I say, sir, look where you’re coming to! [SERoEAET backs him 0 the stage. Serg. Thank heaven he’e gone at lastl Pipette (to SERosArvr). Kiss me! Sery. Eh? (Ducking). Don’tl Pipette. I can’t help it. Kiss me l Serg. Don’tl don’t! Pipette. Don’t be angry, sergeant, but it’s an irresistible impulse. Kiss me! Serg. I’m not angry—I like it. Don’t, don't! Enter PETER, squaring. Peter. Hallo, Jenny, kissing Sergeant Klooque! Come on! Pipette. Please, Peter, I can’t help it. It’s an irresistible impulse. Kiss me! (to PETER). Peter. Come on! Come on! [Squaring—he aqua/res at SER- GEANT who due/rs. Pipette. Oh dear, oh dear, they’re going to fight about me. My character will be gone in no time! . Peter. Come on! Come on! Serg. Don’t, don’t! Peter. Please don’t be angry, sergeant, but I’m compelled to hit you. I am acting under an irresistible impulse. Serg. And don’t you suppose I’m ducking and dodging because I’I afraid of you. I, too, am acting under an irresistible ' impulse. Enter Bc)OMBLEHARD'r. - Boom. (to SERGEANT). Allow me to offer you a guinea. Serg. Sir, I have great pleasure in taking it. _ [PzTEa hits BooMeL EHAsnrr on the back. Boom. (to PaTas). Allow me to offer you a_ guinea. Peter. A guinea ? Thank you! Come on ! Boom. (to PIrETTE). Pipette, allow me to offer you a guinea. P'ipette. You’re a disreputable old scampl Kiss me, kiss me . 3 2 3 CREA Tl/RES OF IMPULSE. Enter MARTHA and VILLAGERS from inn. Martha (to VrLLAoERs, pushing them all away). Go away! go away ! Get out of this—get out of this ! Serg. (ducking). Why, Martha, what’s the matter ? Martha. Don’t be frightened, Sergeant—I don’t mean it. I tried with my three servants just now to make the old lady go, and she compels us to turn everybody out of my inn until further notice ! Why I shall be ruined! Go away-—get out of this! [To one and all in succession. Boom. Allow me, ma’am, to offer you a guinea. Martha. Certainly; thank you—goaway. Boom. Another. ' Martha. Thank y0u—go away. (To the others.) Go away- get out of this—go away. Pipette (to SERGEANT). Kiss me, kiss me! Peter (to SEBGEANT). Come on, come on! Serg. Don’t, don’t, don’t ! Martha. Go away ! go away—get out of this—go away ! Boom. Allow me to offer you a guinea. [To all in succession. Enter OLD LADY from inn—they all rush to her. Martha (pushing her). Go away—go away ! Villagers. Get out of this-—go away_l Peter. ‘Come on, come on! Serg. (apart from the others). Don’t, don’t l . Pipette. Kiss me ! kiss me! [Trying to kiss OLD LADY. Boom. Allow me to offer you a guinea. [They hustle her about the stage. 0. Lady. Stop! stop! stop! (They all desist.) I release you all. (All relapse.) I can manage you separately, but altogether you’re too many for me ! The spell is removed! Martha. Then you’ll go ? 0. Lady (sulkily). Yes--—1’ll go. Pipette (to SERGEANT). Then you’re not a coward ? Serg. A coward ? No! And you don’t want to kiss every- body ? Pipette. Kiss everybody ? No ! (To PETER.) And you’re not a brave man ? Peter. A brave man? No! ( To MARTHA.) And you don’t want to turn everybody out of your inn ? Martha. Out of my inn ? No ! ( lb BooMnLEHAEnT.) And you don’t want to give everybody a guinea ? I aBo!om. Give everybody a guinea? No, l’l1 be hanged if 0 CAAATURES OF IMPULSA. 327 All. O. Lady. All. Finale. Go away, ma'am, go away, ma'am, Go away, ma'am, good day ! Defeated And ill-treated, I'm vindictive as you'll find, So prepare you, For to spare you I am not at all inclined ! Go away ma'am, &c. [They hustle her out of the gate. CURTAIN. RANDALL’S THUMB. A N OR/G/NAL COMEDY IN THREE ACTS. First performed at the Opening of the Royal Court Theatre, under the management of Miss M Litton, 25th January, 1871. DRAMATIS PERSONZE. DR. TROTzvAY MR. H. M1\:I,L01~r. Jon BANGLES . Mn. EDwARD R1cmrofl RANDALL, an Adventurer MR. W. BELFORD BUCKTHORrE, under his thumb Mn. HERMANN Vnzm MR. SCANTLEnURY, on his honeymoon MR. Fmmx MATT1-ncws. MR. FuMnoYs, an old Stager MR. AsTuzzY. CUMMING, a Waiter ... . . MR. PARRY Cumcn, a Superintendent qf Police... Mn. Jzmv1s Emma TEMrLE, Dr. Trotway’s Niece Mlss KATE BISHOr Mas. ScnvrLiznUnr Mas. Sn:r1mus. Mlss Srnm ... M1ss MAGGIE BRENNAN. Mns. FLAMnOYs Miss ELEANOR BUrrou. ACT I. . GARDENS OF BEACHINGTON_ HOTEL. ACT II. THE CLUMP ROCKS. ACT III. GARDENS OF BEACHINGTON HOTEL. Scenery by Mr. Bnnmwoon Po'1"rs and Assistants. Modern Seaside D1-esaes. Randall’s dress rather seedy will pretentioua. ‘Time in Representation : Two Hours and a Half. R./\ND’ALL’S THUMB. ACT I. SCENE.—Gardens of Beachington Hotel. Entrance to hotel, L. ; garden table and two chairs, R. ; table and chair, L. ; gong at entrance to hotel; visitors’ book on R. table ,' entrance to hotel garden, 0. ; sea view. MR. and MEs. FLAMnoYS discovered sitting at table, R., but apart as if they had guarrelled—enter Mn. BANGLEs, from hotel. Bangles. Ha, Flamboys! How d’ye do, Mrs. Flamboys? (Aside) Hallo, another rowl It’s a most extraordinary thing that these young people should quarrel as they do. Flamboys is a capital fellow. Mrs. Flamboys is a pretty and agreeable woman. And they don’t speak half-a-dozen words a day. Flamboys (yawning). Oh dear! oh dear! It’s awfully slow here! 1 say, Bangles, don’t you find it awfully slow? Bang. Slow ? No! Flamb. Ah, you’re a single man, that makes all the difference at a watering place. Bang. It does make a difference, no doubt, but it seems to me that the advantage is all on your side. (Bowing to MEs. FLAMBoYS.) Flamb. Unsophisticated soul! May that fond delusion never be disturbed. You’re a bachelor—takc an old stager’s advice and keep so. [Mns. FLAMnOYs rises, in a hulf, and retires up. Bang. (crossing to FLAMBOYS). My boy, I don’t like to hear any man talk like that. It’s excusable in a half-fledged griff, with a pocket full of dangerous money and a body full of dangerous tastes, but a married man who speaks as you speak is a traitor to his order. You've taken the shilling—stick to 332 RA NDALL’.S‘ THUMB. your colours like a man—and don’t damn the service because you don’t happen to hit it off with your commanding officer. Flamb. My dear fellow, who does hit it off with his com- manding officer ? . Bang. Bosh! That’s the foolish fast sham-cynical cant of the day. I’ve heard many a youngster speak as you speak, and I’ve lived long enough to see nearly all of them happy husbands and happy fathers. Those who stick to the professions of their youth are those whom no decent woman would have. Mrs. Flamboys. But it seems strange that so ardent an advocate of married life should have lived single so long. Bang. It’s no fault of mine, Mrs. Flamboys-—I should have been married thirty years ago, if I’d had my way—to a lady twenty years older" than myself! Perhaps it‘s as well that I didn’t. Flamb. Quite, I’m sure. Bang. But I’ve turned the corner some time now, and l.’1n going down-hill pretty quickly, and I—l often wish, Mrs. Flamboys, that I had some one to put the skid on for me, and let me down easily. An old man feels the want of a wife more than a young one does, depend upon that. lL’s no joke to look forward to a solitary old age with death in apartments at the end of it; and the only symptom of regret, the demand made by your landlady on your executors for compensation on account of the house having got an ill name from your having died in it. _ __ Ftamb. Well, ‘if an old stager’s example can be of any service in inducing you to come to a practical conclusion‘ on the subject, you’re quite welcome to it! How longdo you propose to stay at" Beachington '? . _ Bang. Stay? All the autumn—all the winter, perhaps. It’s a delightful place. By Jove, sir, it suits me down to the ground. ‘ When I see a face I like, I want to speak to it; and at Beachington one can do that without fear of a snub. I‘ve lived in London for the last three months, and I havcn’t made three acquaintances. I have been here three weeks and I’ve made thirty. I like most faces. By Jove, I like yours-— though you do talk infernal nonsense. [Shaking hands with FnnrnOYs. Mrs. 11'. (seated). Strange taste! ‘ Bang. And I like your wife’s. Flamb. You’re easily satisfied. Bang. I don’t dislike Scantlebury’s face. Mrs. F. And Mrs. Scantlebury’s? Bang. Well—yes, and Mrs. Scantlebury’s. RAND/1LL’S THUMB. 333 Mrs. F. Take care, Mr. Bangles—she’s a bride! Bang. Oh, don’t misunderstand me—it’s purely aesthetic— purely msthetic. I admire Mrs. Scantlebury as I admire a‘ painting. Mrs. F. Oh, I see! If you look upon Mrs. Scantlebury as a work of art, I admit that there is some ground for your admiration. Bang. Ha, ha! you’re severe on the bride, Mrs. 1*‘lamboys— but I say—how does she do it? Mrs. F. Indeed I don’t know—you had better ask Mr. Scantlebury. Flamb. Oh, he doesn’t know. He’s not been married long enough. Husbands learn these things slowly and by degrees. Mr. Scantlebury has only been married a fortnight, and I suppose that at the present moment he’s at that stage of dis- covery which takes the form of a puzzled wonder why the deuce his wife will keep her dressing case locked. He’ll find out all about it some day. At least I did. Mrs. F. Mr. Flamboys ! How dare you say such a thing? Flmnb. Well, and whom else do you admire? There’s Trotway. ' Bang. Oh, Jack Trotway, of course. Why, Jack Trotway is the oldest and dearest friend I have in the world. We were at school together—wa1ked Guy’s together—entered the Service together as Assistant Surgeons—left it together as Inspectors of Hospitals. Flamb. And Miss Temple, his niece? Bung. Edith Temple ! Yes, yes! God bless her—I like Edith Temple’s face. Oh yes, I like Edith’s face. Mrs. F. Well, then there’s Miss Spinn. _ Bang. Well, and l like—no, hang it, I do not like Miss Spinn. [Takes stage, R. Mrs. F. But that’s very ungrateful, Mr. Bangles, for I’m sure she likes you. Why you are always together! Bang. Always together, Iua’am ? We are Siamese twins in everything but physical union! If we were physically united, a surgical operation might separate us; as it is, I’m not aware of any operation—surgical or otherwise—that will keep us asunder. That woman’s the pest of my life. Flamb. I wonder you stand it. Bang. Stand it? Confound it, you don’t want me to strangle the woman, do you ? Flmnb. No, that would be an extreme measure. I shoulnln’l'. try that until all other means had failed. Bang. All other means have failed. Sir, the woman is too 334 A2AAWDA L’.S. Z.A. UMA. old a hand. She comes to attack me armed with an experience which I suppose is utterly unexampled. What is a simple- minded Indian to do with a woman who in her time has been a governess, a lady's companion, a Crimean nurse, a columbine, a missionary, a vivandière, a stewardess, and a Bloomer ? Enter Miss SPINN from hotel. Miss S. Talking about me, Mr. Bangles, as usual? (Aside to BANGLES.) Oh, you indiscreet man | Bang. Yes, ma'am I have been talking about you. I'm not aware there are any secrets between us. Miss S. (aside to BANGLEs). Very judiciously passed off. (Aloud.) Secrets? Certainly not... I haven’t a secret in the world! Yes, Mrs. Flamboys, in my time, I’ve been everything, by turns Flamb. Except a wife. Miss S. And nothing long. Bang. Except a spinster. Mrs. F. (mischievously). Do you know, Miss Spinn, I often wonder that, with your love of change, it has never entered your head to get married? Mr. Bangles was just saying so as you came in Bang. I, ma'am 2. Hang it, Mrs. Flamboys Miss S. Dear Joe' (Aside to BANGLEs.) Oh, you imprudent boy ! (Aloud.) Mrs. Flamboys, I will tell you a secret. (Confidentially.) It has entered my head to get married ! [Exit BANGLEs, unperceived. Mrs. F. Impossible ! Miss S. But true. Over and over again I have said to myself, “It is my duty to marry.” But whom? There's my difficulty. Flamb. Yes—I see your difficulty. Miss S. He must be a good man—he must be a rich man— he must be a man of exquisite taste, and his admiration for me must be unbounded. Now, it isn't easy to find this combination of qualities in one individual. Flamb. That I can quite understand. Miss S. Exactly. Above all, he must be furiously jealous in order to—to— Mrs. F. To curb your love of change? Miss S. Exactly. When I find such a man, I will throw "f into his arms and I will say, “Take me, and be happy!” * F. But, would not that be rather abrupt? S. What, the remark? Oh, of course, as I put it; but suming that he has led up to it, AAAZZA/L’.S ZZUMA. 335 Flamb. But that's begging the question. Miss S. Oh, but that's often done. Flamb. I believe it is. It was in my case. Mrs. F. Mr. Flamboys! - Flamb. Ah! [Sighs. Mrs. F. Ah! (Sighs.) Brute! Miss S. Um! Pleasant people, these. (Aloud.) But, Mr. Bangles—where's Mr. Bangles? Flamb. Gone. - Miss S. Gone? Why, do you know, I came here on purpose to find him? - Flamb. No! Miss. S. I did, indeed. I’m organising a pic-nic to the Clump Rocks this day week, and I want Mr. Bangles to help me. Mrs. F. Well, Miss Spinn, Mr. Bangles went off very quietly, directly you came. Miss S. Very quietly? Mrs. F. Very. Miss S. As if he didn't want to be observed? Flamb. Exactly. Miss S. Sly old gentleman—he meant me to follow him. Silly fellow; as if there's anything to be ashamed of in our liking each other's society. But these Indians are so sly. Which way did he go? Into the grove? Thank you. Good morning. Exit Miss SPINN—MR. and MRS. FLAMBoys rush to each other's arms. - Flamb. My darling—now, at last, we are alone! [Kisses her. Re-enter Miss SPINN—they disengage. Miss S. I beg your pardon—I forgot to ask if I might put your name down? Flamb. Oh, certainly. Miss S. And Mrs. Flamboys? Flamb. (brusquely). Oh, she doesn’t want to go. She's got nothing to go in. Besides, a pic-nic is no fun, when one's wife's there. Mrs. F. Indeed, but I shall go, if I have to wear my alpaca. Put me down, if you please, Miss Spinn, as well as Mr. Flam- boys. (To FLAMBoys.) Brute! Miss S. That's right. It will be delightful if we have a fine day. Now for Mr. Bangles. [Exit Miss SPINN. MRS. F. There now—she saw you kiss me ! It'll be all over the hotel! 336 . RAJVDALZJS THUMB. Flamb. But, my darling pet, you are my wife ! Mrs. F. Certainly, dear. But husbands don’t avail them- selves of every opportunity of kissing their wives after they have been married five years. It’s all very well at first, but people cool down. Flamb. Ah, it’s so difficult to remember the dreary fiction that we’ve been married five years, in face of the delightful fact that we’ve only been married three weeks. Mrs. F. But you must try, my pet, you must indeed. Only think, if it should be known in the hotel that we are on our honeymoon tour ! Why we shouldn’t have a moIe1t’z peace ! Flamb. It would be extremely awkward. Well, l’ve done all I can. l’ve quarrelled with you over and over again in public. I’ve worn the oldest boots I could find. l’ve flirted with every woman I’ve come across. I’ve constantly referred to our numerous family, and I’ve never lost an opportunity of eating sake and onions. Mrs. F. My pet, how good of you! (Kissing him.) Our numerous family! _ Flamb. Yes—four! Both. Ha, ha! Mrs. F. Now, mind—1 insist on your being extremely rude to me on all public occasions. You must say the unkindest things about my dress, and my complexion, and my hair—and you must snub me whenever you’ve an opportunity. Flarnb. My love, I’ll be a perfect brute! Mrs. F. I’m sure you will. Think how much annoyance and observation we save ourselves by such a course. Look at those two ridiculous old donkeys, the Scantleburys, who are always advertising the fact that they are honeymooning, although she’s sixty, if she’s a day! Look at them, with their arms round each oter’’ waists, as if they were two-and-twenty! It’s positively indelicate! Fiumb. Ah ! there are no fools like old ones ! Enter Mn. and Mns. SCAN'1‘LEBURY,f01ldli/zg. Scant. Now, my darling, I must insist on your wearing a shawl—it’s too cold to be out without one. Ah, Mrs. Flam- boys ! assist me in persuading Frederica that she will certainly catch cold, if she doesn’t wrap herself up. ' Mrs. F. (seated). Oh! I couldn’t presume to dictate to a lady of Mrs. Scantlebury’s age ! Besides, it is not a cold day. Flamb. Not cold ?—it’s freezing! Mr. Scantlebury is quite right! It’s all very well for you to go about as you do- AAAWDALL’S THUMP. 337 you're a mere girl! But when you're Mrs. Scantlebury's age you'll know better, won't she, Scantlebury? Scant. (aside). These persons are very insufferable ! Mrs. F. And when Mr. Scantlebury has been married as long as we have, he will only trouble himself about one circumstance connected with Mrs. Scantlebury's toilette. Scant. And that is—? Mrs. F. That it is regulated with a due regard to economy. Such, at least, is my experience. [Looking savagely at FLAMBoys. Flam. There you are—at it again Nag—nag—nag—all day long ! Mrs. F. Then you should give me something fit to wear ! Will you believe me, Mrs. Scantlebury, when I tell you that he hasn’t give me a single dress since my marriage? I am positively wearing out my trousseau at this moment! Scant. Oh, Flamboys! I'm ashamed of you! Mrs. Scant. Oh, Mr. Flamboys, we're ashamed of you! Flamb. Ah! wait till you’ve been married five years! You are young at it just now, and you’re carried away by en- thusiasm. It's astonishing how that sort of thing dies out ! Mrs. Scant. Horace, assure me that this sort of thing will not die out. Tell me that you will always—always—always— love me as you do now ! Scant. Frederica, do you doubt me? Mrs. Scant. No-I cannot doubt those eyes! [Gazing at him. Scant. My own | Mrs. Scant. My love! Flamb. (aside). Old fools! (Aloud.) Ah! when I married, Scantlebury, I believed in all that. Mrs. F. So did I—but I have been bitterly undeceived ! Oh, Mrs. Scantlebury it is a pleasant thing to dream that the honeymoon is to last for life!—but it is a terrible thing to awake and find that you have married an icicle ! [Weeps. Mrs. Scant. Horace, is it possible that you are an icicle in disguise ? Scant. If I were, what would become of me before the blaze of those radiant eyes? Mrs. Scant. Go, flatterer. Scant. My own | Mrs. Scant. My love Flamb. Oh, this is intolerable ! Scant. Mr. Flamboys, you must excuse us if we are a little effusive. This is the most interesting period of our existence. I dare say now that, under similar circumstances, you went on just as we do now? IV. Z 340 RAND/1LL’.S' THUMB. BandL Of course you don’t—it’s a devilish serious position for you. But don’t you find it amuses your friends? Scant. N o, sir, I do not find that it amuses my friends. Rand. They must be dull dogs. Scant. I believe there is nothing to be ashamed of in the fact that I am on my honeymoon ? Rand. Nothing at all. Quite the reverse. It’s very credit- able to you at your time of life. Scant. Society, sir, I believe, could not be carried on without honeymoons. Rand. Quite out of the question. You’re a martyr in a good cause. Soant. (aside). This fellow is laughing at me. He shall see that I’m not to be trifled with. (Crosses to R.—then aloud.) Good morning, sir. [Eaz:it. Rand. Ha, ha! (Refers to book.) “Joseph Bangles, M.D., late Bengal Army. Dr. Trotway and niece.” Good. (Aside) They are here. Ba. (coming down). Well, now that you’ve brought me all the way down to Beachington, perhaps you’ll let me know what you want with me. Band. I want you to help me to carry out a scheme by which I shall make a pot of money. Buck. Suppose I refuse ? Rand. But you won’t refuse; you can’t help yourself. Do you remember the night of the 14th of August, 1869 ‘.7 Buck. I’m not likely to forget it. Rand. Probably not. We don’t commit murders every day. At least, I don’t. Buck. It was no murder, and you know it. I was attacked by a stranger in the dark, at the edge of Banton Cliffe, and in self-defence Istruck at him with a sword-stick. Rand. You did. He fell over the cliff and was killed. At my suggestion you left England that night. The body was found, and your victim turned out to be a highly respectable commercial traveller named Peters, and a coroner’s jury having the fact of the sword-thrust strongly before their eyes, returned a verdict of “ Wilful Murder” against some person or persons unknown. Baa. In the sight of heaven I am innocent. Rand. No doubt. But in the sight of the law you are guilty. A reward of three hundred pounds is offered for your apprehen- sion. I could earn that three hundred pounds this evening. I am extremely hard up. The letters you wrote to me from Dijon, identifying you with the man who caused his RANDALL19 THUMB. 34; death, are in my pocket, and the local police station is next door. Buck. You know that I am innocent of any crime. Rand. Stop. W hat do you understand by the word “ crime ” ? Buck. An offence against the law. Rand. Childish! A crime is that unfortunate combination of circumstances which induces a jury to return a verdict of guilty. Believe me, I speak from experience. But don’t be afraid. I don’t intend to inform against you. I want you: you are very valuable to me. Buck. You are very good. Ra-rid. Not at all. Buck. Well, perhaps not. Rand. I am sure not. Now for the work that I want you to do. Buck. Disagreeable, I suppose '3 Rand. Very. There’s an extremely nice girl with thirty- eight thousand pounds, stopping in this hotel, and I want you to make love to her. Buck. Why don’t you do it yourself? Rand. Do you think I should be successful? Buck. (looking at him coolly). N o. Why am I to do this? Rand. To explain that, I must go back to the history of my marriage. Buck. I thought you were a bachelor? Rand. So do a good many others—but I’m not. Buck. Heaven help your wife! Rand. Heaven has. She is no more. Buck. Was she pretty ? Rand. Very. Buck. What did she die of? Rand. Old age. Baa. You said she was pretty ? Rand. She was—but that was long before I was born or thought of. I met her at Beachington three years ago—she was then seventy-nine. She was a very afiectionate old lady; and, as I found that she had money, I proposed to her then and there, and then and there she accepted me. Within three days we were married. Buck. Sharp work! Rand. It was sharp. But when the bride is seventy-nine, time is of the essence of the contract. Two hours after the ceremony, the tranquil joys of my honeymoon were inter- rupted by the information that I was wanted for felony. I bolted, It/l¢VDAl.L’S THUMB. 343 Enter De. TRorrwAY, through 0. from 1.», smoking. (Atoud.) I’m going round to the post-ofiice. I shall be back directly. Have you a light? (crossing to L.—taking out cigar case). Buck. N 0. You know I don’t smoke. Trot. Allow me to offer you one. [0fers lighted cigar. Rand. Thank you. Eh! Not Dr. Trotway ? Trot. Yes. Should I know you ? Rand. I had the pleasure of meeting you, many years ago, at your regimental mess in—in-—- Trot. Kurrachee ? Rand. Kurrachee. You sat vice, I remember. Don’t remember me, I dare say. No! I had no whiskers then. This is my old chum, Reggy Buckthorpe—late 24th. We shall meet at dinner, I dare say. Good morning ! _ [Emit RANDALL through gate, 0., and of, L. Trot. Don’t know his face; don’t want to. Friend seems a decent fellow. (Aloud) 24th—el_1—Mr. Buckthorpe? Knew them very well in the Punjaub; but that’s before your time. Back. Yes, I joined in ’62—left in ’68. Trot. Half-pay? Back" No. Sold out. Trot. (aside). Bad! Buck. Hard up. Trot. Good! Like a man who owns to that. Enter EnITH. Edith. Uncle, this pic-nic promises to be a great success. Buck. (astonished). Edith! Edith. Mr. Buckthorpel Buck. How strange that we should meet thus ! Trot. Eh ? Why, what’s this ? You are old friends ? Edith. Oh yes! I had the pleasure of knowing Mr. Buck- thorpe some years ago, before papa’s death. I then went to India, and we have never met since. I am very glad to see you. Trot. So amI. I don’t know you, sir; but as a friend of my poor brother’s I am heartily glad to make your acquaint- ance. Are you making a long stay ? Back. Well, yes—so1ne weeks, I think. Trot. 'l‘hat’s right! Then we shall see something of each other. Imust be off to join Bangles. We are going to take shootings here, and we shall be delighted to give you a gun. 344 RANDALDS THUMB. Good morning, Mr. Buckthorpel You and Edith can talk over. old times. [Emit TROTwAY, R. U. E. Buck. This is a strange meeting, Edith ! Edith. It is, indeed, Mr. Buckthorpe! Buck. Mr. Buckthorpe! Edith. Yes; we are merely friends now. Buck. Are—are you married ? Edith. No. Buck. Are you engaged? Edith. No. Bitck. Then you have quite ceased to love me ? Edith. You have no right to ask me that. My poor father forbad me even to speak to you again. He is dead. Buck. So I heard. He was very hard on me. Edith. He was very just. Buck; Yes; but it is as hard to distinguish extreme justice from extreme injustice, as to distinguish extreme heat from extreme cold. I was a penniless spendthrift, and I suppose he was right; but it would have made a good man of me, if I had married you. Edith. Was he to know that ? Buck. N 0; but you knew it. Edith. I believed it. I am sure I could have influenced on. y Buck. Why, from the first day I saw you, my life changed. During the six months that our acquaintance lasted I was an altered man. You loved me then—I know you did. 1 was amazed—astounded when I learnt this; it opened out a pro- spect of a new and changed life to me; it had never entered my head that a good and pure woman could love such a man as I. I have known so few, Edith; and those I have known have treated me as a hopeless outcast. Edith. Oh, Mr. Buckthorpe! Buck. They have had good reason to do so. I had been left to my own ways all my life, to make what associates I pleased, and when I entered the service, I was banished to a foreign station where time hung heavily on my hands, and where the devil of mischief had full opportunity of working his worst with me. Under different auspices I might have been a different man—I am sure of this, from the influence that association with so pure and good a woman as you had over me. Oh, Edith, I am a miserable fellow ! (Sits at table.) Edith. I—I am truly sorry to hear you say this. Mr. Buckthorpe, you pain me deeply. Buck. After your father dismissed me from your presence, I 1r‘ANDALL’S THUMB. 34; lived on in hope that ciroumstances—I knew not how-—might bring us together again. But he died, and you had to join your uncle in India, and the sun went down on the only bright day my miserable life had known! Edith. Mr. Buckthorpe, it is not fair to tell me all this. I/Vhen I told you that I loved you, I knew nothing of your past life—you seemed to me to be all thata man should be. I loved you, because you realised my dream of what a man should be; but when I learnt the circumstances of your past career, my eyes were opened to the folly of my dream, and if you had died on the day that I owned my love for you, I should not have suffered greater anguish. [Sits. Buck. But, Edith, you could not say this to me if you had wholly ceased to love me. Edith. Mr. Buckthorpe, do not mistake me; I love the memory of an ideal man. The man I love has no existence— he never lived. I loved the man whom I believed Reginald Buckthorpe to be. Buck. I was a good man when we parted—1 may say so now; for I am good no longer. I look back on those six months in my life as on an episode in the life of another man. Edith, have pity on me— give me another chance. Edith. No ; I am bound by my father’s wishes. He is dead. Buck. He is dead, and therefore cannot recall his words. He knew nothing, except that my career had been wild, reckless, extravagant. He attributed my altered life to interested hyp0crisy—because you had wealth, and I was poor. But when he knew me, I was indeed a changed man. Edith, you loved me. Where is the man whose heart would not be purified by such love as yours ? [EDITH appears undecided how to act. Enter RANDALL from L. and through c. Rand. (aside to BUoKTuoni>n). Very good. Buck. What do you mean ? Rand. I mean very good. I mean that you’ve lost no time —you’ve been going it, you babe of nature ! Buck. I don’t understand you. Rand. Don’t you ? I mean that you’ve lost no time in commencing operations. This is the young lady whose thirty- eight thousand pounds I claim. Buck. Edith Temple ? Rand. Exactly. Didn’t you know that ? Introduce me. Buvk. She is a lady. 346 RAIVDALZYS T H U/VB. Rand. You‘d better do as I tell you. Buck. (reluctantly). Miss Temple—Mr. Randall. [Retires ujo. Rand. Miss Temple, I had the pleasure of knowing your uncle, Doctor Trotway, in India, some years ago. Edith. Indeed ? Rand. Yes, we renewed our acquaintance this morning. (T0 BUCKTHORrE.) I had no idea that Miss Temple and you were acquainted. Edith. Yes, we are old friends, but we have not met for son_1e years. Rand. (aside). This simplifies matters. Young people who are old friends, and who haven't met for some years, generally get very confidential when they do meet. Enter MISS SrINN and BANGLEs. Miss S. Well, we’ve settled all preliminaries. There are three carriages, and a donkey cart, which I amgoing to drive. Edith. How many names have you, Miss Spinn ? . ' Mz'ss S. (referring to list). Sixteen. [EDITH and BUCKTHORrE retire up. Rand. (crossing to MISS Sr1NN). Have you really got sixteen names? Fifteen of ’em aliases ! That beats me hollow. Miss S. I really have! and I want one more to be com- plete. Bang. (aside). I know you d0—mine! But you won't get it. (Aloud.) Perhaps these gentlemen will join you ? Rand. Certain1y—eh, Buckthorpe ? Miss S. Oh, but that’s two, and it will throw out all my arrangements. Never mind, Mr. Bangles, you and I will charter the donkey cart. Bang. Impossible! Miss . Why? Bang. I don’t enjoy riding in donkey carts, besides we should never keep pace with the others, we should drop behind. ' Miss S. (tenderly). A little, perhaps—half a mile or so-not more. That wouldn’t matter a bit! Bang. It would spoil the whole thing, ma’am. It’s the essence of a thing of this kind that all should arrive at the same moment. Miss S. Then we two will start an hour before the others, and get everything ready-—there it’s quite settled, Mr. Bangles, that I take you in my trap. RA1VDALL’S T111/MB. 347 Rand. (aside). Egad, it looks like it! Bang. No, no—it would be better if Edith and I were to go together, eh—Edith ?-—and—- Miss S. Wouldn’t do at all. It would never do to take the only young unmarried lady out of the party. Besides, what would people think ? Now two old fogies like us can do what we like ? Bang. I wish we could. .Miss S. Mr. Bangles, I’m shocked at you! There, that’s all settled, and if these gentlemen will give me their names— — Rand. Mr. Randall—Mr. Buckthorpe. Buck. Excuse me, I can take no part in this excursion. I leave for London to-night. Enter DR. TEOTwAY. Edith. Oh, Buckthorpe ! Buck. I leave for London to-night. [With deliberation. Rand. (aside). Are you mad? Trot. What’s that? You told me you intended to remain some weeks. . Buck. Circumstances have occurred which render necessary my immediate presence in London. There is a Chancery suit —involving my succession to a large fortune Rand. But you knew of that this morning, my bloating lambkin, you knew of that this morning. Edith (aside). Is this on my account ? Buck. It is. Edith. Then, on my account, stay. BacL. I eannot—y0u don’t know all ! Rand. I think on reflection you will see that this haste is unnecessary. (Takes him aside.) If you attempt to leave this place until I give you permission, I will place your letters in the hands of the local poliee—you know me well. (Aloud) Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to inform you that I have convinced Mr. Buckthorpe that his intended departure is un- necessary. He will have much pleasure in joining your party ! . 343 IBAZVDALLLS‘ THUAIB. ACT II. SCENE.—T/16 Clump Rocks. The entrance to a large cave occupies the foreground of stage, with seashore in the distance. The entrance from L. is over large loose rocks; the entrances, R., are open; the two large detached rocks in the centre should be sufiiciently flat on their surfaces to serve as tables, and they should be surrounded with rough ledges, about eighteen inches high, to serve as seats; the small detached rock, R., should be about twelve inches high; the stage is covered with other rock-work to mask the rising of the water. SERvAI\"1‘S discovered arranging lunch, superintended by Miss SrINI\'——BANGLES sitting moodily apart, endeavouring to turn out a jelly. Miss S. Well, Mr. Bangles, how are you getting on with that 'elly ? J Bang. Ma’ain, the confounded thing won’t come. Miss S. Put it back into the warm water. (Coming down.) Mr. Bangles, I often think that I’m very like a jelly. A good and clever husband might melt me down and pour me into any mould he pleased. Bang. Ma’am, it’s a privilege of which he would be certain to avail himself at the earliest opportunity. But I don’t think you'd “turn out” well. Jlliss 8. Yes I should, dear. A little gentle warmth—such as I apply to this jelly. Bang. Gentle warmth ? Nothing short of perpetual hot water would do it. ' Miss S. (crossing to BANoLEs). And would you try the hot water ? Bang. I would, indeed, ma’am. Miss S. (earnestly). Perpetual hot water ? Bang. Perpetual hot water. Miss IS. Hot water that would not cool down as time went on; water that would be always, always hot? Bang. Ma’am, it would be as hot as fire could make it.. A iss S. Ardent soul! We will talk of this again. Bang. Really, Miss Spinn Miss S. Oh, Joseph, I am so happy ! Bang. Hold up, ma’am, pray—this is extremely awkward. They are coming, ma'am, and we shall be caught ! Miss S. You are right, we must be discreet—we must be very-—very prudent. I am not angry-—indeed I am not angry, . 16.4./VDALL’S IHUMB. 349 you imprudent headstrong boy! There, hush, they are coming; we will speak of this again at a more convenient time. Oh, Joseph, I am so happy l Enter Dn. TEOTwAY and ME. and Mas. FLAMBOYS, over rocks. Bang. Miss Spinn, I—That woman would extract a proposal of marriage from the Pope of Rome l [Takes stage, R. Trot. Take care, Mrs. Flamboys, the rocks are very slippery. Well, Miss Spinn, you have arranged everything, I see. Bang. Yes, Miss Spinn has arranged everything. Trot. I always said she was a capital manager. Bang. And I heartily endorse the observation ! Mrs. F. Here come the turtle-cloves. Ah, I wonder how long it will last? [MR. and Mus. I'‘L.u'uBOYs seat themselves in front of detached rock,’ 1.. Enter MR. and Mas. SCANTLEBURY, over the rocks. Scant. Come along, my angel. Ladies and gentlemen, oblige me by looking the other way while Mrs. Scantlebury climbs over the rocks. (They do so.) N ow jump. Mrs. Scant. Edward, if anybody is looking, I shall go and drown myself ! 'l‘here. [Jumps. Flamb. May we look now? Scant. You may. [They stand in an attitude of embrace. All. Beautiful! Miss S. Are we all here ? Enter RANDALL. Rand. No, there's Miss Temple to come, and Buckthorpe. I tell you what it is, I vote we don’t wait for them. Trot. We won’t wait for them. It will serve them right. Won’t it, Bangles? Miss S. Oh, but that would be a pity. Suppose, Mr. Bangles, you and I start off to meet them and hurry them on. Trot. No, no, leave them alone. They must be taught that if they chose to separate themselves from the rest of the party, they must be prepared to take the consequences. (They seat thernselves—MR. and Mas. SCANTLEBURY at lower rock, D1z. TROTwAY at higher 'r'0ch‘—BANGLES on small rock, and Miss SrINN on hamper between BANGLES and Mn. sCANTLEBURY— RANDALL standing, e.) Let them lunch together. Rand. (aside). Where shall I sit? (He makes one or two attempts to sit near Mas. FLAMBOYS and Mas. SCANTLEBURY, 350 RA./VDALL’S THUMB. they close up to prevent his doing so.) Somehow, I’1 afraid I’m not z favourite here. There’s Mrs. Flamboys—she’s a nice little thing—black eyes, plump figure, and doesn’t get on with her husband. She’l1 do. (Sits near Mus. FLAMBOYs.) I know I’m not a pleasant person to look at, but my conversation is con- sidered sparkling. 1’ll try and sparkle. (Aloud) Mrs. Flamboys! Mrs. F. Yes. ‘ ' Rand. (sentimentally). Do you believe in first impressions ? Mrs. F. Sincerely. . Rand. (taken aback). Oh! But don’t you find that your first estimate of a man is sometimes a mistaken one? Mrs. F. (with decision). Never. (Aside) I wish this person would go. . Ifarzd. Humph! Cold shoulder! ' Jllrs. F. Mr. Flamboys, if it’s not asking you too great a favour, I should like a little lobster salad. Flamb. Oh, hang it ! Can’t you get it yourself? Rand. Wha_t an ill-bred boor it is. Allow me, Mrs. Flamboys. [Gives her salad. Mrs. F. Oh, thank you. (Aside to FLAMBOYs.) I can’t touch it after that dreadful man; get me something _else— anything. ! Flamb. My darling—there. [Gives her c]n'c].'e'rI, Mrs. F. ‘Thank you, dearest. What are you eating? ' Flamb. Nothing. I live on love. Mrs. F. My darling! Flamb. My pet! Trot. Ha!—hem! Flamb. (rudely). Here, somebody give my wife somcthing-- she won’t touch anything I give her. Jilrs. F. No, thank you; I’ve finished. Ah, I had an appetite once! ‘ Flamb. You had—enormous! Mrs. F. Brute! Rand. (who has gone round to Mrs. SCANTLEBURY). Mrs.- Scantlebury, do you believe in first impressions? [Pathetically.- Mrs. Scant. (startled). Bless and save the 1nan—what does he mean? Rand. (reproachfully). Ab, and you, too, give me the cold- shoUlder! . Mrs. Scant. Some cold shoulder for Mr. Randall. [Turning away from him.- Scant. Certainly, Randall. Shall I put some mint sauce over it? ' . -* ;-'€...=__ Ml RAIVDALDS THUMB. 35‘ Bafa . Devilish odd; they don’t seem to like me at all. (Aloud) Thanks, I have some pigeon pie. Trot. Then ‘have some more. ' [Gives him some. Rand. Is this pigeon ? Trot. N 0, it’s rook. Flamb. They go very well together, don’t they, Randall? Scant. It’s a great Homburg dish, isn’t it, Randall? Trot. ‘Rook and pigeon, with a good steak, is a dish you’re always glad to have a finger in, ain’t you, Randall. Mrs. Scant. A finger? (To RANDALL.) There’s no occasion to use your fingers, sir! Allow me to hand you a fork. Flamb. Randall always prefers a spoon if he can get one; don’t you, Randall? . Scant. I can provide you with one. [0fers one. Rand. I’m sure you can. Thank you. Scant. What do you mean by that, sir ? [Rising. Rand. You were born with a silver one in your mouth, were you not ? Scant. Well, sir, and if I was, sir-—and if I was, sir? Rand. Well, I meant that one. [Goes round to MISS Srms. Seant. (aside to Mus. SCANTLEBURY). Now, how the deuce did he know I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Mrs. Scant. He traced it in your conversation. Scam‘. (angrily). Frederica. Mrs. Scant. Horace! Scant. (recollecting himself). My own! Mrs. Scant. My love! ' Flamb. Scantlebury, leave your wife alone, do. Mrs Scant. Sir! Mr. Seantlebury is not in the habit of letting his wife alone. If you are envious of Mr. Scautlebury’s happiness —- Flamb. But I’m not. Scant. You’re right, Flamboys. Mrs. Scant. Horace! [Angrilg/. Scant. Frederica! Mrs. Scant. (recollecting herself). My love! Scant. My own. . [They embrace. Rand. Miss Spinn! [RANDALL in the meantime has gone round to Miss Srnm, introducing himself between MISS Srnm and BANGLEs. Miss S. Well? Rand. Do you believe in first impressions ? ' Miss S. Oh, I don’t believe in anything. Rana’. I’m glad of that, it shows a sense beyond your years. RANDALDS THUMB. 353 Trot. Young people Joe—young people! We were young once, you know. Bang. (sadly.) Yes once. (Aside) They’re always together—- on the beach, on the parade, on the pier—wherever she goes he’s sure to turn up with his confounded “Miss Temple, this is indeed an unexpected pleasure ! ” Unexpected—bah! Why, he knows her movements to a minute, and her plans for a week to come. Trot. This is rather a critical moment in Buckthorpe’s existence. He is expecting every minute to hear that a Chan- cery suit has determined in his favour, and if it does, it will put him in possession of a considerable fortune. Bang. The deuce it will! Trot. Yes. As Edith and I were walking through Beech- wood, yesterday, who should turn up of all people in the world but Buckthorpe. “ Dear me, Miss Temple,” said he, “ this is indeed an unexpected pleasure.” Bang. Bah ! Trotway, do you ever go to the play ? Trot. Oh, yes; often. Bang. Very good. Then here’s a little drama in two acts . and a moral that will interest you. Act I—Scene, the Earth. Time, sunrise. Personage discovered: the Astronomer-Royal. The Sun rises in the east. Astronomer-Royal speaks, “God bless my soul,” says he, “you rising in the east ? This is indeed an unexpected pleasure.” End of Act 1. Act 9—Same Scene. Time, sunset. Personages discovered: the Astronomer- Royal, and the Sun about to set. Astronomer-Royal speaks, “God bless my soul,” says he, “you setting in the west? This is indeed an unexpected pleasure.” Morn1—The Astro- nomer-Royal’s a humbug. [Emit BANGLEs. Trot. Nonsense, Joe, you’re hard on Buckthorpe. It’s very odd that Joe Bangles who likes everybody should have taken such a dislike to young Buckthorpe whom everybody else likes so much. I can’t account for it. Enter EnITH and BUcKTHosrE over the rocks. Trot. Well, young lady, you’ve taken your time about it. We’ve lunched without you. Edith. Uncle, I was so tired, I was obliged to sit down. Trot. Well, we had to remove everything to the top of the cliff, as the tide is rising; so if you want any lunch you’d better come with me——come along Buckthorpe. [Exeunt TsOTwAY and EDITH. As BocKTHoerE -isfollowing them, RANDALL enters. Rand. Stop-—I want to speak to you. Iv. 2 A 354 1c‘A1VDALl/S THUMB. Buck. Well ? Rand. Well, you’ve been a week at work, and precious good running you’ve made in the time. Buck. Yes—pretty well. Rand. Nice girl, Buck. Yes. Rand. Pity she has to lose her money ? Buck. It is a pity. Rand. Well, you’ve made good use of your time. I eouldn’t ‘ have got round her in a week as you have. Buclr. Oh, you’re too modest! Rand. Yes, I am modest. Why, at this moment I know of half-a-dozen ladies—devilish fine women, too—who’d_ gi.ve a good deal to know where I am. ' Buck. Ladies ? Rand. Yes. Buck. What kind of ladies I [0ontemptuously. Band. Landladies. Don’t mistake me—it’s rent, not spoons. N o, no—Jack Randall is not the man to run away from that sort of thing. Buds. No, he’s just the sort of man to run away with that sort of thing. . Rand. What sort of thing ? Buck. Spoons. Rand. My good friend, you don’t understand these things. I am not a strictly honest man, but I should no more think of sneaking down an area after a plate basket than you. would of sitting down to dinner with a dustman. Damme, sir, pay some regard to social distinctions. If you are a swell, swindle; if you are a snob, sneak. Always rob, according to your station in life. Golden maxim. Buck. Then, by your own admission you’re a swindler. Rand. I’1 a chess-player. Buck. But you cheat. Rand. No—I finesse. Buck. I don’t understand the distinction. Rand. I’ll make it clear to you. .1 have a scheme to take your queen. To effect this, I arrange that my bishop shall occupy this square-—my knight that, my rock that,.and so forth. If you’re.a skilful player you detect my scheme and prepare to bafileit; if not, I gain my end. And because I don’t explain my tactics beforehand, you kick the board over. Back. Your games generally end that way, don.’t they ? 1?¢md- Generally. The art of losing with a good grace is an Ii’/I N1)Al.L’S THU/P16’. 35 5 accomplishment which is very generally neglected. I often wish it was otherwise. Buck. No doubt. Rand. But let’s get to business. What have you gathered from this girl about my lamented wife? Buck. Nothing. Rand. Not yet ? Baa. No, not yet ? Rand. Then, as time’s getting on, and as I have very good reasons for not stopping here longer than is necessary, I think you’d better begin. Buck. Oh, you think that ? Rand. Yes, I do. Look here, Buckthorpe, I’m not going to stand any nonsense—I’ve got my fingers round your throat, and one squeeze will choke the life out of you. This eyening I must know all about this wife of mine—yo_u’ve got about an hour to do it in; you’d better begin at once. Here comes the girl. I shall be within hearing, so you’d better be careful. Buck. I would rather you did not listen. Rand. No doubt; but I shall. [Randall goes behind rock as EnrTH enters. Edith. Mr. Buckthorpe, do you know where my uncle is ? Buck. No; I have not seen him. Edith. 1 saw some one with you—— Buck. Yes—Mr. Randall. Edith. Oh! Is Mr. Randall a great friend of yours ? [They sit—EDiTH on lower rock with her back to RANDALL, BUCKTHORrE on higher rock facing him. Baa. No, he’s not a great friend of mine. Edith. Is he—you’ll think it a strange question—is he a very nice man ? Buck. No, he’s not a very nice man. Edith. He doesn’t look at all nic‘. Buck. He is not at all' nice. (RANDALL attempts to go.) It’s about two years since your aunt, Miss Brackenbury, died? [RANDALL stays. Edith. Just two years, poor old lady. Buck. So Randall told me. Edith. How in the world does he knowanything about her ? Buck. He is a very well informed man. . Edith. Indeed ? He looks like a—a—You don’t mind my speaking openly about him ? Buck. Not at all. I like it. Edith. He looks like a—.What do you call those people at fairs and races ? 356 RAND/lLL’s '1‘!!!/‘Mb’. Buck. Punch and Judy man ? Edith. No, swell mob. Surely he is not a gentleman ? Buck. Most surely not. Edith. Then how is it that you and he are so much together ? You are so entirely different. He is the worst looking man I ever saw. [RANDALL going. Buck. I’ll tell you all about that, some day. How old was your aunt when she died ? [RANDALL stops. Edith. Seventy-nine. Buck. So Randall told me. Edith. Mr. Randall seems to know a great deal about my aunt. Buck. It is part of Mr. Randall’s profession to know a great deal about a great many people. Edith. His profession ? Is he at the bar ? Buck. Very often. He is a swindler-—a forger-—an adventurer—a low-bred thief, and an utterly unmitigated scoundrel l [Emit RAunALL. Buck. (rising). Edith, that man has a terrible hold upon me. He has evidence which implicates me in a crime of which he knows me to be utterly innocent, and he threatens to make that evidence public if I withdraw from his society. Edith (rising). A crime? Buck. A crime of which, before heaven, I am utterly innocent! I have been weak, imprudent, selfish, dissipated, but my honour, as honour is esteemed by the world, is still unstained. Edith. I am sure of it. Quite, quite sure of it. But is there no prospect of your being able to shake off the influence of this fearful man I Reginald—1 am—I am rich—forgive me for what I am going to say—I am rich, and my money is at your disposal. Will you let me help you ? Baa. Edith, you have it in your power to help me as no other soul on earth can help me. There is a help that you can give me for which I, who do not often pray, will pray night and day—the help of your companionship—of sweet association with one as good and pure as you. Edith, give me this hope—- tell me that, weak, wicked as I have been, I am not beyond the reach of your mercy ! . Edith. Who am I, Reginald, that I should set myself up as a judge of your conduct ? I have been so hedged about from the very approach of temptation, that I can only guess at the meaning of the word. I have been jealously guarded through life, by strong, and wise, and loving counsellors. I have never had one wish thwarted. I have revelled in the happiest life RA./VDALL’S THUMB. 357 that this world can bestow, and shall I sit in judgment upon you who have been left from boyhood to your own courses— turned adrift into the world without friends, without counsel, and without example—to fight the world unadvised, unaided, and alone ? Oh, Reginald, I am more just! Buck. Edith, your words give me new life—new hope. I have been an outcast so long, that I had almost given up the struggle with the world in despair. Edith. Still the world is a good world ; you were your worst enemy—— Buck. Yes; God help him of whom that may be said! A brave man can grapple with an outside foe—and if he falls, he falls with honour. But when one’s deadliest enemy is locked up in one’s own heart, ever present, and ever watchful to take advantage of weakness known only to itself—his case is desperate indeed ! Yes; I was my worst enemy. I knew the strength of my weakness, and 1 surrendered to it at discretion. Edith. But there is yet time. You are young and strong and brave-—you have that within you, which, under due guidance, may yet place you high among your fellows. Buck. And where shall I look for that guidance—to you ? Edith. Reginald, I am a poor, weak, inexperienced girl—a baby in the world—untempted and untried. I do not know myself, for I have been put to no proof. I am unfitted for so great a charge ! Buck. (passionately). Edith, in your hands I place my life—- do with it what you will. It is my last—my only hope ! Tell me that you will take it into your keeping. Edith (after a pause). If you think me worthy to under- take this great charge—yes. Buck. Bear in mind what I am—what I have been-—an adventurer—an outcast. Edith. I think only of what you will be, when you have separated yourself from the evil influences that have hitherto surrounded you. It may be within my power to help you to do that ; if it is, I will help you with all my heart, with all my soul. Reginald, I will be your guide. Baa. For life ? Editlt. For life. [They retire up, and go of. Enter Mas. SCANTLEBURY and FLAMnOYs. 11lrs. Scant. How delightful this is, Mr. Flamboys! How pure—how grand-—how calm! I don’t know whether I admire the ocean most under its present peaceful aspect, or when it is lashed into fury by the demon of the storm. 358 RAZVDALIJS THUMB. Flamb. I do. When it is lashed into fury by the demon of the storm, there’s no fish for breakfast next day. Mrs. Scant. I’m afraid you’ve no romance, Mr. Flamboys. Flamb. Not a grain; I had plenty of it when I was your age. Mrs. Scant. Oh, Mr. Flamboys, you are surely younger than I! [Ba.shfully. Flamb. Oh, muoh—in years—but I mean matrimonially speaking. I mean when I was first married. Mrs. Scant. Oh! Flamb. But Mrs. Flamboys soon knocked that out of me. Mrs. Svamt. Indeed ? Flamb. Yes. Mrs. Flamboys has no romance. She is as matter-of-fact as the multiplication table, and quite as diflicult to master. Now, when I married, my conversation was so metaphorical that no one understood me. In fact, Mrs. Flam- boys hooked me by placing a matter-of-fact interpretation upon a flowery invitation to dance. She married me through a metaphor, and fixed me witha figure of speech. And a pretty dance she’s led me ever since. Mrs. Scant. Poor Mr. Flamboys! That was enough to cure you of romance. Flamb. Yes, but it didn’t. After my marriage, I surrounded myself with a mamelon of metaphor-—a palladium of poetry- a fortress of figure of speech—but it was of no good, Mrs. Flamboys battered it all down. Mrs. Scant. Battered it all down ? What with ? Flamb. Babies. Four of ’em’—George, Thomas, William, and John. Mrs. Scant. And how old are they ? Flmnb. Oh, I don’t know! The youngest may be ten days. Mrs. Scant. Ten days! [Astom'shed. Flamb. (confused) No, no—I mean ten years. Mrs. Scant. Ten years! [H0rrz_'fied. Flamb. No, no—what am I saying ? Ten months—months -—months! I know it’s ten something. (Aside.) I wish this woman would go. Mrs. Scant. Poor Mr. Flamboys! Do you know, the more I see of Mr. Flamboys the more I pity you. Flamb. The dcuce you do !—that is-—of course—thank you —thank you sincerely. (Aside.) I wish Scantlebury would come and fetch her away. Mrs. Scant. Any one can see that you are not happily mated. It is a great pity, for you are young, and—and-—good-looking. Fltlmb. E11 ? [Frightened. 360 RAND/1LL’S THUMB. Edward still with that horrible woman—I’m sure he’s dying to get away from her. (Aloud.) Come, Mr. Scantlebury, you must take me to my husband. Scant. (getting tipsy). Your husband ? Never! Your husband’s a brute! Mrs. F. Well, never mind that. Scant. He’s a brute, ma’am; he's not worthy of y0u—Is he worthy of you ? Mrs. F. N 0, no—perhaps not—but still Scant. But still you want to go to him ? It’s a beautiful trait in your character—a beautiful trait. (Drinks.) Yes, this is the cup I’ve heard of. It cheers, but it don’t inebriate. I'm quite cheerful now, ma’am. Flamboys is a brute—he insults his wife, and beats his children. He beats his children, don’t he ? Mrs. F. Oh, yes, yes! [Impatiently. Scant. (indignantly). He beats his children. How many are there ? Mrs. F. Oh, four. Scant. Four! I'll drink all their healths. What are their names ? lllrs. F. Oh, I don’t know. Scant. Don’t know? That’s nonsense. Mrs. F. Oh, Jane, Emma, Mary, and Kate. Scant. Jane, Emma, Mary, and Kate! Beautiful names! God bless ’em all. [Drinks. Mrs. F. Now, Mr. Scantlebury, once for all, I must insist on your rejoining Mrs. Scantlebury. Scant. Never mind Mrs. Scantlebury. I’ve plenty of Mrs. Scantlebury at home. It’s astonishing how soon one gets sick of Mrs. Scantlebury. She’s a fine woman, but a very little of Mrs. Seantlebury goes a long way. I wish a great deal of Mrs. Scantlebury would go a long way—and stop there! Mrs. F. Mr. Soantlebury! Is this the way you speak of a wife to whom you haven’t been married three weeks ? Scant. Three weeks. Thirty-five—(recollecting.) Yes, three weeks ! She’s too good for me, Mrs. Flamboys. It’s too much happiness for one man! She’s a noble woman, ma’am, and l’ve much pleasure in drinking her health. Take me to her! I’ll allow you to have the pleasure of taking me to her ! Mrs. F. Thank goodness, here she is. . Enter Mrs. SoAuTLEBURY with FLAMBOYs, L. biS'c¢1znt. Just as we were getting on so com-com-oomf, a y ' RA./VDALLES THU/lib’. 363 own just now! Be off, and do your worst, for as there’s a heaven above us, I’ll do mine ! Rand. Buck thorpe, if I consulted my personal feeling towards you, I’d take you at your word to-night. If I spare you till to-morrow, it is because it is to my interest to give you one more chance. If you have not procured the information I want by twelve o’clock to-morrow, you’re a dead man. I give you this chance—not out of any consideration for you, whom I would gladly see dead at my feet—but because I prefer thirty- eight thousand to three hundred. And one or the other I will have. Good evening. [Emit ItANoALL. Buck. What have I done? (Makes a movement as if to call him back.) No, no! I mustn’t let him see that I feel his power over me. I’ve taken up my position, and I must stand or fall by it. No, no; I think I’m safe. 'l‘here’s a warrant out for his arrest on a charge of forgery. I might lay information against him, if I knew details of the charge; but then he would be brought to bay, and he’d turn upon me, and this miserable affair would come to light—and then, Edith! No, I can’t do that—I can’t do that. Entei" MISS S1‘n~n~'. Miss S. Mr. Buckthorpe, was that Mr. Randall who left you iust now ? Buck. Yes. Miss S. Humph. I don’t like Mr. Randall a bit. Buck, Indeed! Miss S. No. He took me to see the caves, and he wanted to give half-a-crown to the woman who shows them. Buck. Well, there’s no harm in that. Miss S. Not a bit, only—he’d forgotten his purse. Buck. I see; and he borrowed yours ? . Miss S. No, he didn’t. Fortunately, I had forgotten mine too. Now, I don’t like other people who’ve forgotten their purses. Buck. And how did you settle it? Miss S. I promised to make it up to her in sandwiches; but she said she couldn’t drink sandwiches. “ Well, but you couldn’t drink half-a-crown,” said I. “Oh, couldn’t I !” said she. And I really believe she could! Enter MB. BANGLES and EDITH. But:/-‘. Edith! (Going to her.) 364 IEA./VDALL’S THUMB. Bang. That woman here ? How very annoying ! [Sits on lower rock. Miss S. Mr. Bangles, why, what in the world is the matter? (Aside) Oh, you foolish, you foolish, jealous boy! Because he’s found me here alone with Mr. Buckthorpe! Why, you silly child, Mr. Buckthorpe is dying for Edith! See how glad they are to get together again. Why, I came here to find you. Bang. To find me ? Miss S. Yes; I began to think you had been punished enough. Bang. So I have; too much! Miss S. Bless your heart, I only did it to tease you. [EDITH and BUGKTHORrE are seated on high rook.— BANGLES and MISS SrINs on low rock. Bang. (looking at BUCKTHoErE). Confound the fellow—how happy he seems! And how happy she seems too! . [During this conversation the tide has risen and sur- rounded both rocks. Miss S. Oh, Mr. Bangles! the water! We’re surrounded ! Bang. Eh? Confound it, I thought we were above high- water mark. Miss S. Mr. Bangles, this is a trick! Bang. A trick, ma’am ? Miss S. Yes, I see it all. It’s a planned thing to get me alone. Oh, Mr. Bangles, this is unmanly, unmanly! What will people say ? [Pretends to weep. Bang. Absurd! What the deuce are we to do ? Miss S. If I believed that this was a planned thing to enjoy my society alone, until the tide goes down, I’d never, never speak to you again! Bang. You wouldn’t ? Miss S. Indeed, I wouldn’t. Bang. You promise that ? Miss S. I do! Ba’ng. Then l’l1 confess all. It was a planned thing. I settled it with Buckthorpe an hour ago. There—now keep your promise. Miss S. Do you really mean to tell me this ? 1 Bang. Certainly; no doubt about it. Miss S. Oh, Joe, dear Joe! Bang. Ma’am, you said you’d never speak to me again. Miss S. But I didn’t mean it, Joe. _Bang. (aside). I must put an end to this. (Aloud.) Miss Splnn, 18$ 118 come to the point. It’s an awkward thing to RA1VDALL’S THUMB. 365 have to say to a lady, but I can’t close my eyes to the fact that you seem to think that I—in short that—I propose to marry you. Miss S. You do ? . Bang. (decidedly). Idol Miss S. You propose to marry me ? Oh, Joseph, how good you are to 1ne! Bang. Bang the woman ! (aloud) Miss Spinn, let me assure you that Miss S. You may call me Adelaide, Joe. [Shylg/. Bang. Miss Spinn—-— Miss S. I say you may call me Adelaide. Bang. Well, then, Adelaide, I am sorry if my manner has conveyed a false impression, but? Miss S. No, J oseph—I knew that you were very'fond of me, but I hardly expected a formal declaration so soon; still, I am not angry—indeed, I am pleased—gratified—delighted! But, give me till to-morrow to decide before I take the final and irrevocable plunge! Oh, the water-—the water! Mr. Bangles! we shall be drowned! Miss Temple—Mr. Buckthorpe! see- we are surrounded, and I shall be drowned !—and in my new silk! Buck. Hallo l (sees his situation) This is awkward !—but you are quite safe. The sea is as smooth as glass, and the tide is almost at its highest. At the very worst, you’ll only get a wetting. Bang. Edith, you will be drowned l Buck. Oh no—the water never covers this rock in calm weather, except at spring tides ; but as your rock will be a few inches under water, you had better signal for a boat. Bang. But you—what will you do, Edith ? Buck. Oh, we shall be all right. I’ll take care of Miss Temple till the tide goes down. Miss S. Oh !—I'm slipping, Joseph! Save me !—save me ! Put your arm round me—like that—there—I’m better now. Oh, what shall I do ! Bang. If you’ll take my advice, ma/am, you’ll take off your shoes and stockings, and walk on shore. Jfliss S. Mr. Bangles! Bang. I won’t look, ma‘am—\1pon my honour! . RANDALL enters in boat, in front of lower roc/c. Buc7.‘. Here’s a boat. You’re quite safe, Miss Spinn. 366 RA./V1)ALL’S n10/ms. Miss S. Saved-—saved! (Aside) That man always turns up when he isn’t wanted. Bang. Come, Buckthorpe. Rand. The boat will only hold two. Buckthorpe and Miss Temple are quite safe, as that rock is never covered. Come along, Bangles. [BANaLES and MISS SrINN get into the boat. Miss S. Oh, Mr. Bangles ! Bang. What ? Miss S. If it had only been the other rock! [They are rowed of. E’lith. How slrange to be cut off so completely from the world ! Buck. And how pleasant ! Here we are on a little world of our own. Edith. King and queen of a tiny kingdom. Buck. With this advantage over other kings and queens- that we have no subjects. ' Edith. But it’s such a very little kingdom. Buck. It is large enough for our wants. Edith. Yes, for an hour or two. How shall we pass the time? Shall I be Robinson Crusoe-—and will you be my man Friday ? Buck. Yes. Saved by you from enemies who would have destroyed me. Edith. And true and faithful to me, in return, for ever after ? Buck. For ever after ! Edith..Very well; that's settled. Now, let me see—what happened when Robinson rescued Friday ? Buck. Friday kissed Robinson. Edith. Are you sure ? " Buck. Quite! [Kisses her. Edith. I don’t remember that. Well, then Friday was taught to hunt for Robinson’s dinner. Hunt away ! Ah, I’ve puzzled you now ! Buck. No. He was taught to hunt for it. Teach me. . Edith. I can’t do that. However, in this case, Robinson is not hungry. _ Buck. In other words, Robinson hauls down his colours ? Edith. Yes. Surrenders at discretion. The analogy is im- perfect. Let us try something else. Buck. What shall we try ? I am a storm-tossed vessel, safely anchored in the haven of your love. Edith. It’s a poor haven, Reginald—‘a haven that will afford you little protection against the rude winds of the outer world. 1€A)VDALL’S THUMB. 367 Buck. It is a haven of peace and rest—a haven into which sorrow, care, and trouble can never enter. See—the sun is setting, and the sorrows of my life sink with it. From this hour I live a new life-—strong in your faith—faithful to my strength. Who would not be strong in the certainty of such love as yours ? Edith. My love is for you, Reginald, for ever and for ever. Baa. I have fretted sorely under the yoke that I have had to bear, but I would have borne it patiently had I known that those words were in store for me. 1 would bear it all again to hear you speak them once more. Edith. There is no need, Reginald! Buck. No need, Edith, for my troubles are at an end. A good, grave, and earnest life is before me, and with your help and your counsel and your example, I will lead that life. Edith, at last I am at peace ! Enter RANDALL, in boat. Buck. (aside) Randall l (aloud) Why are you here ? Rand. I have come to take you off. . Buck. It is unnecessary. We are high and dry above high- water mark. Rand. But the wind may rise. Buck. The sea is calm enough now. Rand. Calm enough now! But don’t deceive yourself. There’s a storm brewing for you. If you want to escape it, you must do as I bid you. ACT III. SCi:NE—Same as Act I. Mus. SCANTLEBURY seated Imitting.—Enter Mus. FLAMBOYS from hotel with little basket. Mrs. F. Oh, Mrs. Scant1ebury—I have such news ! Mrs. Scant. News, my dear ? Mrs. F. Yes; Edith Temple is engaged to Mr. Buckthorpe. ‘ [Sits at table. Mrs. Scant. Engaged ? How very indelicate ! Mrs. F. Indelicate? Mrs. Scant. Certainly. Why, they haven’t known each other a week! It’s very bad taste. RANDALL’S THUMB. 369 lives are brief indeed-—but then you live through your short span at his lips. I declare I envy you the few moments during which each of you usurps my place ! Enter FLAMBOYs. Flamb. My love! Mrs. F. Theodore! Flamb. What are these? Mrs. F. Cigarettes. Pretty things with a pretty name. I declare I’m jealous of them. I wish cigarettes were not feminine. ' Flamb. Do you think I should let you roll them if they were masculine ? Mrs. F. (earnestly) I hope not, dear; I hope you love me far—far too well. I’ve been at work at them all the morning, and I’ve made forty-two. Flamb. What an industrious little woman. And whom are they for ? Mrs. F. Can’t you guess ? Enter BA moms. Flamb. Can’t imagine. Bang. (coming forward). Perhaps they are for Mr. Flamboys. Mrs. F. (contemptuously). Mr. Flamboys, indeed! Bang. Surely they are not for yourself. Mrs. F. Really, Mr. Bangles, I hope it’s not necessary to assure you that I don’t smoke. Bang. Well, let me see, they can’t be for Trotway. (Mus. FLAMBOYS shakes her head.) For Randall, then? (Mus. FLAMBOYS shakes her head.) Why, they must be for me! Mrs. E. (reluctantly.) Why, of course they must. (Aside) Tiresome old man. (BANGLES takes them—Mrs. F. to FLAM- ROYs.) Theodore, get them away from him, they are for you. Dearest Theodore, he mustn’t have them. Flamb. My love, what can I do? (Al0u.d—crossing to BANaLES.) I say, Bangles, take an old stager’s advice, don’t you smoke Mrs. Flamboy’s cigarettes—they’re beastly. Bang. What am I to do? I don’t like amateur cigarettes as a rule, but she’ll be offended if I refuse them. Flamb. No, no; I’ll square her. (Aloud.) Mrs. Flamboys, call these cigarettes ?—Ridiculous! Come along with me, ma’am, and I’ll teach you how to roll cigarettes. Here's a thing! Look at it, ma’am; why, it's back's broken. Examine Iv. 2 a 370 RA./VDALL’S THUMB. it, ma’am; it’s a deformity. Taste it, ma’am. (Puts it in his mouth and lights it.) It’s—it’s—it’s—oh, it’s delicious ! [Emeunt Mn. and Mas. FLursoYS. Bang. Strange people ! They little thought when they married, four years ago, that they were taking a yoke upon their shoulders that would gall them through life. Well, I’ve steered clear of that sort of thing hitherto, and now I’m going on the rocks in my old age! I’m a wicked old scoundrel to fall in love with a girl of twenty! But she’ll never know it— she’ll never know it ! I’ve kept it to myself for two years, and I suppose it will die with me. It won’t die till then! (Sits at table.) Enter EnITu. Edith. Why, you’re all alone—where’s Miss Spinn ? Bang. (at table). Washed out to sea, my dear, for anything I know or care. Edith. Do you know I’m very glad to hear you say that? Because people think that—that ‘ Bang. That I intend to marry her ? Edith. No, that she intends to marry you—that’s worse. Now, I can’t allow any one to marry you—because-— — Bang. Because I’m a confirmed old bachelor, eh, Edith ? Edith. Oh, she told you what I said, did she ? Yes, because you’re a confirmed old bachelor. I should be dreadfully jealous of any one you married. [Sits on stool at his feet. Bang. You would ? Edith. Certainly. What would become of me ? Bang. Of you ? Edith. Yes, of me! Why, I’ve been your little wife since I was two years old, and do you think I’m going to allow any one else to light your cheroot, or warm your slippers, or nurse you when you are ill. Why, what a wicked old man you must be to think of such a thing! Bang. But I never did think of such a thing, and I never shall think of such a thing. Edith. Never? Bang. Never. Edith. That’s all right. Then you see you are a confirmed old bachelor after all. Bomg. Oh, I didn’t say that. Edith. But do say it. Promise me that yoU- will never, never marry. I can’t bear to think of you as a married man. Besides you are married already. Bang. Indeed ? . RA./VDAl,L’S THUMB. 37I Edith. Yes, to me. Bang. 'I‘hen—you will never marry ? Edith. Oh, I didn’t say that. That’s quite a different thing. Bang. But if you are my wife ? Edith. Oh yes,—no doubt I am your wife—but then, you see, you are not my husband. Bang. How do you make that out? Edith. Why, in the first place, a husband has black whiskers —n0w yours are grey. " Bang. They were black once. Edith. Dear me! Well, I suppose they were. Now, that's very odd, to think that you once had black whiskers. '1‘hey’ve always been grey ever since I can remember, and I never associated them with any other colour. I believe I thought you were born with grey whiskers. It seems so strange to think that you were ever a young man—you are such 'a thorough old fogy ! Bang. I am ! A thorough old fogy ! A growling, grumbling, discontented old fogy ! A bald old fogy ! A grey old fogy ! A gouty old fogy! I’1 a nice sort of fellow to talk of getting married. Married! And in ten years I shan’t have a tooth in my head. Married ! with an outfit of flannel bandages, silver-gilt crutches, and a cellar of antimonial wine. No, no; Joe Bangles’ work is done. Shelve hirn-—.superannuate him»- lay him up in 1avender—he’s only in the way. And if he wants to be a family man, let him go a-godfathering. It’s all he’s fit for now, God help him ! it’s all he’s fit for now! [Sits and covers his face with his hands. Edith (who has been laughing with Mn. BANGLES through this speech, is alarmed at his emotion). Oh! Mr. Baugles—I hope I haven’t vexed you. I can’t bear to see you look unhappy —and I am so happy, too ! Bang. You? Edith. Yes—I have come to tell you some news. I—I think I am going to be married. Bang. Married—to—to Edith. To Mr. Buckthorpe. Oh, Mr. Bangles, I’m so happy! Bang. (Aside) Then it’s over. (Aloud.) God bless you, my love! I-I—hope and pray that you may be sincerely happy. Edith. Won’t you kiss me ? Bang. (kisses her). Bucktborpe is a good fe1low—I’m sure of it. I—I—you may not think it, my dear, but I do believe I’m delighted to hear it! . 372 RAIVDALJ/S THUMB. Enter BUCKTHORrE. Buck. Thank you, Mr. Bangles—thank you heartily l Edith speaks so kindly—so afl'ectionately—of you !—her heart is so full of the unvarying love you have borne her for eighteen years, that I am overjoyed to think so old and true a friend does not appear displeased at her engagement. [Emit EnITn into hotel. Yes, Mr. Bangles, I’m going to be married to Edith. And that’s not all—the Vice-Chancellor’s decision has just been telegraphed to me, and I’m owner in fee of Ardleigh Park, two- thirds of a coal-mine, and thirty-eight thousand pounds consols. B.ng. My boy, I don’t know much about you—I’ve only known you a week or so——but you come of a good stock, and I hope and believe you’re the hearty, straightforward, manly fellow I take you to be. Buck. Mr. Bangles, I must be candid with you. If I’m a straightforward fellow, my straightforwardness is only a week old. Bang. Eh? Back. When I came _down to Beachington, I was an adventurer. . Bang. Confound it, sir! You don’t mean to say that that dear girl’s money brought you down here ? Buck. No—I came down to Beachington not knowing that Edith was here; and when I learnt that she was here, I also learnt that she was penniless. Ba.ng. Penniless! Confound it, sir! It’s all very well for a man with a park, a coal mine, and devil knows how many consols, to call Edith penniless; but thirty-eight thousand pounds is a pretty sum, notwithstanding. Your recent good luck has enlarged your views, Mr. Buckthorpe. Buck. Edith has not one penny she can call her own. She does not know this—but 1 knew it all along. That thief Randall secretly married her great-aunt after the date of the will, and he claims all that she left. There’s a warrant against him for forgery, and so he dares not declare himself. Bang. The deuce there is! Let me ask you, sir, if Mr. Randall is a forger, how do you and he come to be together ? Buck. Because I am under his thumb. Mr. Bangles, I’ll tell you all. Twelve months ago, I killed a man in self-defence. Randall holds evidence which makes my crime look like wilful murder. _ Bang. Do I understand you to say, sir, that you are an mfernal soouudrel ? Bw_’k. I didn’t say that. I've been l1I! prudent wunfortuuatc.— RANDALZJS THUMB. 373 dissipated; but I’ve done nothing to bring me within the grasp of the law. Bang. Hang it, sir, you confessed to having killed this miserable man ! Buck. Yes, under circumstances that would have justified an archbishop in killing him. Bang. It may be so, sir, and it may not. Does Dr. Trotway know that you killed this man ? Buck. No! (Abashed.) Bang. Does Edith know it ? Buck. No! Bang. Then, sir, I shall consider it my duty, sir, to place them in possession of all the facts. Bang. I have no wish to deal hardly, sir, with a young man who, having fallen, through his own weakness, is struggling to right himself in the world’s opinion and his own. But in this charge that hangs over you the question of weakness does not arise. Either you murdered this man, or you did not. And I tell you this frankly—if you murdered him, I’ll hang you ! Buck. Mr. Bangles, let me tell you this—if this accusation reaches Edith’s ears, whether I am guilty or whether I am innocent, I am lost beyond redemption. Bang. Come, sir, l’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll tackle this fellow Randall myself. I think I know how to deal with him. If I see reason to be satisfied that his charge is a true one, I give you up to justice. If I have reason to believe it is false, I place no obstacle in the way of your marriage; and if you knew all that I could tell you, you would give me credit for some forbearance in making this promise. Buck. But by what means Bang. Leave the means to me. I think I see my way to the end I propose to accomplish. If you are innocent your innocence will appear. Buck. Mr. Bangles, will you shake hands with me ? Bang. Sir, I would rather postpone that ceremony until I have put my plan into operation. Here comes that unspeakable scoundrel Randall. Be good enough to leave me to deal with him. (Emit BUCKTEoErE). Here’s a devil of a business. If I tell Trotway, as I’m bound in honour and in duty to do, and the charge turns out to be false, it will appear as though I were taking a dastardly revenge on a man who has cut me out. If I let the matter rest, I allow Edith to marry an admitted roué and a possible murderer! . 374 RANDALIJS THUMB. Enter RANDALL from hotel. Bang. Now, sir. It appears by all accounts that you are an infernal villain. Rand. You’re very good. [Crosses to 1:. Bang. I’ve just learnt from Mr. Buckthorpe that there is a warrant out for his apprehension on what he describes as a false charge of murder; and that you hold the means of bringing him to justice. Rand. Did he tell you that? Bang. He did. Now, sir, Mr. Buckthorpe may be guilty or he may be innocent. If he is guilty he ought to be hanged. If he is innocent you ought to be transported. Now one or other of those events I propose to bring about. Rand. You will take your own course, but what the deuce has it to do with you? Bang. I’ll tell you what it has to do with me. You state that you know of your own knowledge that he is guilty ? Rand. Undoubtedly. Bang. Then if you don’t act upon that knowledge you are an accomplice after the fact. I shall detain you here while informa- tion is given to the police, and I shall give you both into their custody when they arrive. Rand. What! (Aside) Devil take him; that won’t do. They’ll spot me as the Rum Customer directly. (Aloud with much agitation.) Mr. Bangles, I am a man of the world. I don’t want to hang this poor devil, Buckthorpe, if I can help it. He doesn’t deserve any pity, but I can’t help pitying him. I’m an infernal tender-hearted old lamb, I know; but still I can’t help it. But, look here, if you insist upon it, 1’1l go and lay information myself—there ! [Going. Bang. Stop! I shan’t let you leave this hotel. Rand. By what right do you propose to stop me ? Bang. By no right at all—by main force. Rand. I’ll try that. [Going. Bang. Stop! You see this gong? (Going to gong at e_‘ntrance of hotel.) If you take one step further in that direc- tion, I’ll call every man in the house to my assistance, and I will denounce you as a murderer’s accomplice! Now then, one step, and—— Jfand. What do you want me to do ? . Bang. Write a note to the superintendent here, and send it by a pmater. Yes or no ? Come, one, two, three! [Preparing to strike. RANDALL’S 211101101. 37; Band. Stop ! What am I to write? Bang. This. (RANDALL sits down to write at table.) “To the Superintendent, Beachington Police Station. - ir,—A notorious criminal, a warrant for whose arrest is out— — ” Rand. But——- Bang. Ah, would you? (Prepares to strike gong.) “Is staying at this hotel. Send a sergeant and two strong men, and I will give him into custody.” Sign it. Rand. Wouldn’t it be better if you signed it ? Bang. No, no—I wouldn’t deprive you of the three hundred pounds reward, on any account. (RANDALL signs it.) “ Post- script—Let the two men be very strong.” Rand._ I say Bang. Ah, would you? (About to strike gong--—RANDALL finishes note—BANGLE takes note, and reads.) Very good. Now direct i!t to the Superintendent. (RANDALL does so.) Good. Waiter . Enter CoMmEo, from hotel. Bang. Take this note to the police station directly. [RANDALL folds another piece of paper, aside. Cu’mming. Police station, sir? Rand. Immediately. There’s no answer. Bang. Oh, yes—there is. A sergeant and two strong men. Bring them here with you. [CUMMING going. Rand. Stop! Hadn’t I better direct it to the Superintendent by name? I happen to know his name. [Takes note back. Bang. No doubt you do. [RANDALL writes address on blank note, and hands it to CUMMING, retaining the note first written. Rand. There—that’s better. " Bang. (intercepting the note). Allow me. (Reads.) “ To Mr. Superintendent Clench.” Much better. ' Rand. More regular, you know. Bang. Much more regular. (0pens it deliberately—RAND.u.L very uneasy.) Bless me ! How very odd ! The writing has disappeared! Blank paper ! Rand. Dear me! That’s very strange. Bang. Very strange, indeed. Rand. These mistakes will happen. Bang. No doubt. Ha, ha! Rand. Ha, ha! [Uneasily. Bang. Come, Mr. Randall—in the confusion of the moment you changed the papers. Oblige me with the original document. 376 RA./VD.4LL’S THUMB. Rand. Exactly. In the hurry of business, I—that’s it. Confound you! Bang. Thank you. (Gives it to CUMMING—¢etMz"ning blank note to RANDALL.) Allow me. Now, Mr. Randall, you are free to go. [Emit CUMMING. Rand. To go where I please? Bang. To go where you please. Rand. Right away? Bang. Right away! Rand. (aside). In ten minutes the express starts for London. I can pack in two, and reach the station in five. Bangles, you're a muff ! [Emit into hotel. 1 Enter BoCKTHoarE. Bang. Well, sir, I’ve done it. Buck. Done what? Bang. Laid information. Mr. Buckthorpe, I don't mind owning to you that my impression is that you’re a bit of a scamp, but that you’re not guilty of this murder. You told me there was a warrant out for Randall’s arrest for forgery. I’ve made him write a note to the Superintendent to the effect that a notorious criminal is staying here, but I haven’t said who the criminal is, or what he’s charged with. Now, if he knows you to be guilty of this murder, he’ll give you into custody, and you’ll be hanged, and serve you right. If he knows you to be innocent, he’ll be off and away before the ofiicers arrive, for fear that he should be arrested on a charge of forgery. Now, sir, you stand on your own deliverance ; and—hang it—which- ever way it goes, I shall be perfectly satisfied ! [Em't. Buck. (sin/rs into a chair). So, the end is at hand, and in a few minutes I shall know the worst. Well, it is better that it should be so, than that I should drag on a miserable existence under the shadow of that cursed scoundrel’s ban! Here he comes. Enter RANDALL, with portmanteau and travelling rug, from . hotel. He's going, and I am saved! (To RANDALL, with forcerl calmness.) Why, what’s this? You don’t mean to say you’re going to leave us? Rand. Yes. Buck. This is rather sudden, isn’t it? Rand. It is sudden. Buck. Pressing business ? RANDALDS THUMB. 317 Rand. Very. Buck. Can I have a word or two with you before you go ? Rand. No. Back. Must catch the express P Rand. Yes. [Going. Bac'c Then you’ve thought better of your threat? Rand. For the present. Back. For the present? - Rand. Yes; until you’re married. Then, look out! Good morning‘. [Going, Enter WAITER from hotel. Waiter. Beg pardon, sir. I took your cheque to master. He says—very sorry, sir, but he says he can’t take a cheque in payment of your bill. Rand. Why, he knows me. Waiter, Yes, sir—that’s it—he knows you. He says—beg pardon, sir—but he says he thinks there would be a difficulty at the bank. Rand. Nonsense—absurd. [Going. Waiter. Beg pardon, sir, but I can’t let you go. Rand. (violently). Stand away, and let me pass. Waiter. Bless you, sir, I’m not afraid of you. My impression is you’re like your portmanteau. (Taking it.) Very. big to look at, but—(shaking it)—very little in you. [WAITER sits on portmanteau at the back. Rand. Buckthorpe, if you’ll give me a cheque for three hundred pounds, and five pounds down, I’ll give up those letters. Buck. The deuce you will? Vi/'hy, you’ll get that sum from the Home Ofiice 7 Rand. Yes, but I want to go. Buck. But you’ve laid information against me—they’ll want your evidence. Rand. No, I don’t want to be hard on you-—l’ll let you 011' at cost price. Buck. Can’t you do it under that—for a friend, you know ? Rand (aside). They’ll be here in five minutes, and I shall be nabbed. (Aloud) Say a hundred pounds and a fiver down, and the letters are yours. Buck. Suppose we say the fiver without the hundred pounds? Rand (in desperation). Done—here are the letters—give me the money. (Looks at watch.) In the devil’s name, man, be quick, or it will be too late. They are right enough. 378 RA_/VDALL’S THUMB. Buck. One moment. I don’t doubt your word, but I would rather see that they are all here. [0pens them, and counts them very deliberately. Rand. There are six of them—four from Dijon, and two from St. Valerie. Look sharp! Buck. Quite right. . Rand. Come, the money. Don’t put me in a hole—I’ve acted straightforwardly in this matter, at all events. Baa. You have; I congratulate you. How do you feel after it ? Rand. Give me the money, man, in the devil’s name— — Buck. There it is, Mr. Randall. (Gives notes.) Why, how your hand shakes. Ba‘' (to CUmumG). Give that note to your master. [Going. Cumming. There’s ten shillings change, sir. Rand. Keep the change. Poor devil, you look as if you wanted it! Off at last! Buck. Don’t go, Randall. Rand. Why not ? Buck. Because I’m going to detain you on a charge of forgery. Rand. The devil you are! What do you know about that charge ? Buck. Nothing, except that you’re wanted for it. [Holds Mm. Rand. And do you think I can’t break away from you ? Buck. On the contrary, I think you can; but I don’t think you’ve the pluck to try. (RANDALL much disconcerted.) YVhy, you haven’t! Why, you trembling cur, you dare not move an inch when a man’s hand is on your throat. Rand. Don’t be a fool! You’ve got your letters—let me go. Buck. Let you go? You—who have held an unfounded charge over me for eighteen months ?—you, who have used that charge to wring from me the miserable remnant of my shattered fortune !—you, who have used that charge to foist your cursed company on me for eighteen months !—you, who have used that charge to pull me down when I was falling, and to keep me down when I might have risen! No, no, Randall —my turn’s come! [RANDALL struggles furiously to release himself—BUcK- THOBrE forces him into a chair, and places his hand on RANDALI/S the-oat. Buck. Lie still, you our !—lie still !—or, by heaven, I’l1 choke the life out of you! 1-‘and. Help, help! He’ll murder me! Help, help! 1i’A1VDALL’S T H U/VB . 379 Enter BANGLES and TnOTwAY from hotel—they seize RANDALL. Rand. Here, Bangles—Trotway—take this fellow off! He’s a murderer! I denounce him !—seize him !—he has letters in his pocket at this moment that suffice to hang him half-a— dozen times over. Don’t let him destroy them !—he will if he can. _ Buck. I have no intention of destroying them. They are here. (Places them in TRoTwAY’s hands.) Dr. Trotway, I might have destroyed those letters five minutes ago, but I have pre— served them, in order that you might know the full truth about this miserable business. Trot. Mr. Buckthorpe, Mr. Bangles has told me all. I need not tell you that the truth of your story must be established before you are allowed to see my niece again. Bang. (to BUCKTHORrE). I say, you sir! Buck. Yes. Bang. When did this so-called murder take place ? Buck. On the 14th August, 1869. Bang. You were attacked in the dark by a man in the prime of life, and you defended yourself with a swordstick ? Buck. Yes, yes! _ Bang. (crossing to BUCKTHORrE.) You ran your adversary through the neck ? Buck Yes. _ Bang. J ust-—just here ? [Showing a scar on his neck. Buck. Yes. Bang. And hang it, sir, do you mean to say that a coroner’s jury ever sat on me? All. On you ? Bang. Yes, on me, sir—on me! Buck. But it was Peters —a commercial traveller. k Bang. Peters be hanged, sir ! It was I. I think I ought to now. Buck. Then you didn’t die? Bang. Diel Who the devil says I’m dead? Do I look like a dead man ? Did you ever see anybody look more like a live man? I’m good for a great many years yet, sir—a great many years yet ! Trot. But the coroner’s jury Bang (turning round suddenly.) Coroner’s jury, sirl. No coroner’s jury ever sat on me ! (To BUCKTHORrE, in afurious rage.) Why, confound you, sir—how dare you ? Who the deuce are you, sir, that you consider yourself justified in spread- ing such a report? What do you mean by it ? Hang it, sir, explain yourself ! . . 380 RANDALL’’S T H U/IIB. Buck. But Randall told me that a jury had set on the body, and returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. Bang. Oh! Randall told you! Do you mean to say you are spch an infernal fool as to believe a word that fellows tells you Rand. Let me tell you, sir—— Bang. (Crossing to RANDALL.) Let me tell you, sir, that you’re a miserable imposter! Let me tell you, sir, that when you say my name’s Peters, and that I’m a confounded bagman, you tell a group of lies, sir—a group of lies. And when you say that I’m dead, and that a coroner’s jury ever sat on me, you anticipate matters by a great many years, sir—a great many years . Trot. But how did you escape ? Bang. Escape ? I tumbled over the cliff, and was caught- never mind how, sir—in a most ignominious manner, halfway down, sir—halfway down. I had attacked the wrong man. I mistook him for a fellow who had robbed me, and I got the worst of it, and serve me devilish well right ! I found out my mistake, and as I was all in the wrong, and as I had to sail for India next morning, and as the wound was only a flesh wound, why-—I plastered it up, and joined my ship. Trot. Buckthorpe, forgive me. My dear Joe (to BAN-GLES) you have made us all extremely happy ! Bang. Made you all extremely happy ! I’ve made myself confoundedly miserable. If I had been killed right ofl‘. Buckthorpe might have been tried for murder, and I might have married Edith and been happy for the rest of my life! (To BncKTHoErE) Now, sir, if you will allow me, I shall have a melancholy pleasure in shaking your hand. [He does 80. Enter SERGEAm‘ and CUMMING. Sergeant. (to RANDALL). Beg pardon, sir! Are you the gent. that wrote this note ? Rand. Eh—yes! Serg. Well, here we are, sir. What can we do for you. I suppose your information’s along of Bill Burke, alias the Rum Cglgtomer. We’ve got information that he’s somewhere here- a uts. Buck. Burke! That’s an alias of Randall’s! Sergeant, that’s your man! Serg. Eh? Oh, I see! (Removes RAm)ALL’s wig and beard.) Lor’l So it isl William Burke, I arrest you on RAIVD11Ll.’S THUMB. 383 Scant. Five years! We hadn’t so much as a squabble for the first fifteen. Trot. Fifteen! I thought you had only been married three weeks! Scant. Three weeks? Nonsense—away, deception! Thirty- five years. Mrs. Scant. It has seemed like three weeks, hasn’t it Seamle- bury ? Scant. My own! Mrs. Scant. My love! Both. Ugh! Miss S. (coming forward with parcel). Bless 1110! How very odd! All. What’s the matter ? Miss S. (reads from the newspaper cover) “On the 19th instant, at Trinity Church, Paddington, by the Reverend Reginald Reredos, Theodore Flamboys, Esq., to Augusta, only daughter of Caleb Walker, of Jamaica, West Indies.” Trot. Why, you young rascal, I thought you had been married five years. Flamb. (very much confused). It has seemed like five years, hasn’t it, Augusta ! Mrs. Scant. Then George, and Thomas, and William, and John? Scant. And Jane, and Emma, and Mary, and Kate Flamb. (to SCANTLEsoaY.) Some day. Buck. (Seated with EnITu on bench at back of stage.) . So Friday's enemies at last are gone, And Friday owes his life to Robinson. In gratitude to Robinson he’ll bend True, faithful, and submissive to the end. Edith. Will Friday always, always be the same? Buck. Even when Robinson has changed her name ; The only change that we shall undergo. Edith. No, you must change your name. Buck. Indeed ! How so? Edith. From that day forth—that happy, happy high day, You shall be Robinson and I'11 be Friday ! DRAMATIS PERSONZE. THE DUnc on DUNDEE, an octogenarian Peer. Sm CUTHn1':R11' JAmeson, a middle-aged Baronet. MAnonrs DE BnirvlLLE. VrcoMrn ARMAND DE Biu'rv1LLn, his Son. l\I. LACHAUD, at French Arnocat. Mn. DUDLEY Coxn-Coxn, on his travels. Mn. BARKER, the Duke's Courier. MR. TAYLOR, the Duke’s Valet. M. PAILLARD, a French Money-lender‘. Mn. MACQUARRIE, Purser of P, and 0. ss. “ Africa.” POLLARD, a Detective. CArTAIN MUNRO, of the steam yacht “Flying Eagle." Mn. MCFIE, the Duchess of Dundee’s Secrctarr/. QUARTERMASTER, P. and 0. as. “ Africa." SERvANTS. Tun DUCHESS or DUmmrc, nee Euphemia S. Van Zyl, If Chieuyo. THE MARQUISE DE BREvILLE, Armand’s Mother. DIANA 0.zvnmcL, an Australian Heiress. Mas. DUDLEY Coxn-Coxn, on her trauels. Miss ‘SOMERTOF, Passenger, P. and 0. ss. “Af-rlea." Miss BAILEY, the Duchee.s's Maid. 'Passen_qez's, Sailors, Lascars, ifs. 'ACT I. PORT SAID. Quarter-deck of P. and 0. as. “Afr-ica.” Twelve months elapse between Acts I. and II. ACT II. PARIS. (Vlcomte zle Bréville's Residence in the Champs 1t'l_'/sees). Eight months elapse between Act; II. and I 1!- ACT III. \ MONTE CARLO. L'ibrar_1/ in the Duchesshs Villa. N0'rE.—By the 183rd Article of the Code Olvile a Frenchman who is . under the age of twenty-five CANNOT LEGALLY CONTRACT MARRIAGE UNLESS HE HAS OBTAINED THE CONSENT OF HIS PARENTS IF THEY BE LIVING. If, dispensing with this consent, he should go through the form of marriage, that marriage may be attacked by his parents or by himself. ‘It is open to his parent to give a post-nuptial consent to such a marriage, but he is not bound by such consent, and is entitled nevertheless to apply to the Courts for a decree of nullity on his own responsibility. ' THE FORTUNE-HUNTER. ACT I. Woo'D. SCENE.-Quarter-deck of P. and O. ship “Africa” (starboard side), looking aft. Deck cabins L. Bulwarks R. Saloon skylight up L. Awning overhead. The ship is at anchor at Port Said. Chairs ranged on deck. Afternoon. MR. and MRs. DUDLEY CoxE-CoxE, MIss SoMERTON and other passengers discovered grouped in a semi-circle round SIR. CUTHBERT JAMEsoN and the Wicomte DE BRév ILLE, who are entertaining the group with a fencing bout. After a few passes, SIR CUTHBERT hits DE BRăviLLE over the heart. Applause from passengers. De B. Good! Again you have pinked me! And precisely on the same spot! Once more. - [They resume. After a few passes, SIR. CUTHBERT hits DE BRévil LE as before. De B. Five times in succession! I give in. It is impossible to stand up to you. It is absolutely incomprehensible to me. I am not unskilled in fence, yet every time you hit me on exactly the same spot! - Sir C. It's very simple—a mere trick. See? [They cross foils again, and with the same result. Applause from spectators. - De B. A trick? Yes! But when you hold all the trumps, tricks are easy to make. - - Sir C. Let's try again. “Spot barred,” if you like. De B. No, no! Enough for the moment. We Frenchmen rather pride ourselves on our skill with the foils, but I must take off my mask to you, my dear Cuthbert, I must indeed. (To spectators.) Ladies and gentlemen, you see a vanquished Frenchman | - [They both remove their masks. DE BRévillE han. his mask and foil to SIR. CUTHBERT, takes off hi. " fencing jacket, and puts on his coat. 388 THE FOR T U1VE—lI UN T ER. Sir 0. (taking the mask and foil). I learnt the trick of Jules J avot, maitre d’armes to the 10th Cuirassiers, thirty years ago. Poor fellow, he was knocked over in one of the battles round Metz and his skull cracked with a drum-major’s staff. No one is skilled with all weapons. De B. Ah! I was sure France had something to do with it. '( To spectators.) Ladies and gentlemen, when you think lightly of the Vicomte de Bréville, remember Drum-major Jules Javot. But, Cuthbert, you must teach me the trick, some day. Eh? Will you not? Sir C'. With pleasure, when we meet in England. The trick’s easy enough when you’ve got the hang of it. (Bell.) Ah! the dressing bell. You leave us to-night, but I shall see you before you go. ‘ [Emit down companion, followed by all the passengers emcept Mn. and Mas. DUDLEY Coxls-CoxE and MISS SoMnrvrou. Miss Sam. Never mind, M. de Bréville. If Sir Cuthbert has the best of you with the foils, you beat him out and out with the rif"e. De B. Yes, I believe I. have a little the best of hiI with the rifle. . Mrs. Coace. Is it true that you once saved his life when he was tiger shooting in India? De B. Ah! pardon. It was the other way—he saved mine. A magnificent tiger held me under his claws when Sir Cuthbert dropped a bullet into his ear just as he was about to begin on my right arm. It was mv very narrowest escape! Mrs. Cooce. You must be a very brave man, M. de Bréville, to care so little for tigers. De B. Ah, but you mistake, Mrs. Coxe-Coxe. I care a great deal for tigers! Do you think that when I am face to face with a man-eater I am not frightened? My dear lady, I have killed twenty-three tigers, and each tiger has terrified me beyond expression. _ _ Miss Sam. But when one is terrified one runs away. De B. Not from a tiger, for to run away from a tiger is death. Frankly, I have not the courage to run away from a tiger. I prefer to stay and put a ball into him—not because I am brave, but because I a afraid to run away. Mr. Come. How did you come to take to tiger-shooting ? It's not the sort of fun that most Frenchmen care about. De B. Most Frenchmen? No—nor most Englishmen, my good Mr. Uoxe-Coxe. It is an acquired taste, and one must have the chance to acquire it. But, given that chance, in the THE FOR TUNE-HUN'1'l'.'1i’. 389 desire not to be killed, your Frenchman and your Englishman are of one mind. So your Frenchman and your Englishman are equally disinclined to run away, when running away means certain death. By the way, have the Duke and Duchess of Dundee come on board yet? Mrs. Come. N 0, but their luggage has. They are coming off in the harbour-master's launch. Did you happen to meet the Duchess when you were in the States? They say that she rose from nothing at all. De B. Yes—when I was Attaché at Washington, I had the honour of meeting her Grace many times. But she was not her grace then—she was Miss Euphemia S. Van Zyl, the charming millionaire orphan of absolutely self-made parents. Her father, who was an aristocrat in pork, died, having made a vast fortune, every penny of which—ten millions of dollars—he bequeathed to her. Little Girl. Ten millions of dollarsl If I had ten millions of dollars, I wonder what I would buy with it? De B. My dear child, if you werea grown-up young American lady, you would buy with it exactly what Miss Van Zyl bought with it—you would buy an old, old English Duke. Little Girl (puzzled). A doll-Duke? De B. Well, yes—a doll-Duke. And you would nurse your poor old doll-Duke as she nurses him—you would be kind to him, and you would be very careful not to break him—ancl when your poor old doll-Duke fell to pieces you would renounce dolls for ever, for by that time you would be a very great lady, and very great ladies do not nurse dolls if they can help it. Miss Sam. And you are really leaving us to-day? De B. Yes, alas! My luggage is already on board the “ Cleo- patra,” and I sail for Athens in an hour! Jllrs. (lame. We shall miss you terribly, M. de Bréville! De B. Ah, Mrs. Coxe-Coxe, you are so good! To me it will be like going from one planet to another, and this has been such a delightful planet. After you, Miss Somerton. [Miss Som:sTou and Dr: BnfivrLLE go down companion. Mn. and Mns.!DUoLr:Y Coxa-Coxs remain on deck.] Mr. Come. Do you know, Godiva, I’m quite glad that we are going to travel with a live Duke and Duchess. Mz's. Come. My dear Dudley, what an extraordinary speech! What in the world are the Duke and Duchess to us? Mr. Come. Absolutely nothing—except for the amusement they will indirectly aflord us. ,Mrs. Come. Oh, from that point of view I admit they have their value. 392 THE FOR TUNE-HUNTER. Pur. Are you? Well, you won’t have one this voyage-—- we’re full up. When do the Duke and Duchess come on board ? We get under weigh in half an hour. ‘ . Bar. The launch is going back for them. I suppose you’ll be here to receive them ? Pur. N0—I don’t think that will be necessary. If the Duke wants me he can send for me. I shall be in my ofifice. [E:z:it. Bar. Cool hands these merchant fellows, upon my honour! Start in half an hour, do they? Not before we come on board, I fancy. (Arranging chairs.) Whose chair’s this? (Reads) Mr. Dudley Coxe-Coxe. Now, who the deuce is Mr. Dudley Coxe-Coxe ? [CoxE has strolled down. Mr. Come (with great deference). I beg your pardon—— Bar. Eh ? Mr. Come. You were good enough to mention my name, I think ? Bar. Oh, you’re Mr. Coxe. Yes. I read it off your chair. You’ll be rather in our way here, I fancy. Would it be troubling you too much to-- —- Mr. Come. Oh, remove it at once-—pray permit me——quarter- master placed it there. (Removing it.) Charming weather. [BARKER throws away cigarette end. CoxE picks it up, while BARKER is arranging rugs on chair, and puts it in his own oase.] Bar. Yes—smart breeze outside though. Jllr. Game. Is there ? You yacht a good deal, I believe ? Bar. Yes—we usually winter in the Mediterranean ; but this year we went up the Nile to Wady HalfA. Mr. Coxe. Indeed! How awfully good of you—I mean that must have been very pleasant. By the way, I trust my cigarette is not disagreeable to you ? If so, l’ll-—-— 'Bar. Not a bit. 1’ll join you. May I ask you for one? I’ve mislaid my case. Mr. Gere (efusivelg). With the very greatest pleasure. Pray permit me. [CoxE ofers cigarette case. BARKER picks out cigarette end. Bar. Hallo! ]Why, Ijust threw this away! Mr. Coaee (confused). Oh, I beg your pardon. I’m—1’m collecting cigarette ends ! Bar. Curious hobby ! Come from far ? _ ]l'Ir. Come. Calcutta. By the way, we travelled across India wizh the Viceroy. Bar. Oh, Elliston ? THE Foxzuvz-1m1vra‘1e. 393 Mr. Come. Yes, Elliston. You know him, of course ? Bar. Know him? Rather ! Travelled all over Europe with him a couple of years ago. Quaint old fellow. ' Mr. Come. Most quaint—most charming—most delightful. So frank and open-handed. Bar. (doubtfully). Humph! Close-fisted old chap, I should say. Mr. Come. Curiously close-fisted. Never knew a more close- fisted man. He was travelling with the Marquis of Samborough. Bar. Ah ! Good fellow, Samborough. Pretty daughters, to0—espeoially Lady Arabella. Sad business her marriage. Mr. Coxe. Awful—frightful—deplorable. Bar. Turned out well, though, eventually. Mr. Come. Turned out splendidl y—magnificentl y—eventuall y. You—you are bound for Brindisi, I understand ? Bar. Yes—en route for Monte Carlo, where we spend a fort- night at our villa. Wish we could make it longer, for I always pull off a pot of money at the tables. Mr. Ceace. Really ! It’s all luck, I suppose ? Bar. Not altogether. If the tables are properly worked,luok simply influences the sum of the gains. Mr. Come. Properly worked ? Bar. Yes—I mean worked on a scientific _system. Mr. Come. 1 never found a system that was worth a da— (correcting himself) cent. Bar. I’ve been more fortunate. I have a system that never failed me yet—but it wants a moderate hank. You can’t lose, and with average luck you double your capital every three- quarters of an hour. It may be two hours, but it averages about three-quarters. - Mr. Come. That sounds tremendous! (Much interested.) Bar. You see, Zero’s the death of most systems, but in this case Zero is all in your favour. The bank are mad about it— and it’s really hardly fair on them, for it’s playing on a certainty. . Jllr. Come. I can’t quite see that. 'l‘hey’d have no hesitation in rooking you on a certainty. Bar. True-—true. Mr. Come. They’d have no qualms about it—s0 why should you? Is it fair to ask—- Bar. Perfectly fair—but I’m sorry to say I mustn't reveal it. The fact is, it was confided to me by no less a swell than the apostate Archimandritc Poulos, on his deathbed in the Carpathians, under a solemn promise never to reveal it. Mr. Come. I see. Of course—a deathbed confidence . 394 THE F011‘ TUNE-HU./V7 E16. Bar. In the Carpathians— — _ ’ Mr. Come. Is sacred. I quite see that. . Bar. As a man of honour my tongue is tied. I, now and then, play for a friend—but I never reveal the theory. Mr. Come. Does it require a large capital? _ Bar. You must be prepared to lose £150"at the outset. I don’t say you will lose it, but you must be prepared to do so. A couple of hundred is still better. ‘ 7 . Mr. Gore. Oh, that’s nothing! Bar. Nothing at all. Mr. Gome. Now, I wonder whether—but, no-—hi.t’s asking too much—— ' ' - liar. .Ah, I know what you were going to say. Will I play with a couple of hundred on your behalf ? Wasn’t that it ?_ Hallie! ._ ' 7 7" ' Mr. Gere. Well, really, that’s very remarkable. Tliey are the very words I had on the tip of my tongue. Can't imagine how you came to guess it. _ Bar. My dear fellow, it’s quite simple. Everybody I meet asks me the same question. Yes, if you like to trust it to me: I’ve no objection. _ M'r. Come. I can’t express my gratitude. If you'll allow me, I'll go to my state room and fetch the notes. Bar. Oh, any time will do. _ . . Mr. Come. Well, we shall be under weigh in an hour, and when we’re under weigh my wife and I are under hatches, We’re such awfully bad sailors. So, as you leave the ship in three days, I’d better get the money now._ Bar. As you please. By the way, where’s the bar? Mr. Come. Forward of the saloon. Bar. Then let’s split a whisky-and-soda. Come along-—after ou. . y Mr. C'0xe. I couldn’t think of it. Really, it would be im- possible—quite out of the question. . " Iar. As you please. . [Emit BARKER down companion. MB. Coxa-CoxE about to follow him when DE BRITIvILLE, who has over- heard the latter part of the conversation from up stage, comes down. ' ' ‘ ‘. De B. Ah, Mr. Coxe—one moment.’ ‘ . . - . Mr. Comc. Can’t stop. 1’m going to split a whisky-and: soda with the Duke. ' ' "' . De B. The Duke ? Mr. Come. Yes, the Duke of Dundee. ' _ De B. Ah, that was the Duke you were speakingto ? 396 THE FORTUNE-HUNTER. your nose is not long, and you can see no further than the tip of it. Go—you are a good fellow, and I am a good fellow, and there are many on my side of the Channel that are as good as you, and better—far better-—than I; but you do not per- ceive them because your nose is not long. Sir C. Well, I suppose it’s all confounded prejudice, but as a rule I certainly don't get on with Frenchmen. But it’s different with you. You were brought up in England—went to Eton and Cambridge. You have all the good solid qualities of an Englishman—you ride straight across Leicestershire, you are conscientious with women, and there‘s no better hand at big game living. De B. Ah, I kill things, and so you love me, big, bloodthirsty John Bull that you are! Well, I will go on killing, and you will love me more and more. Tigers ? Bah! tigers are nothing. When I come to England I will hire a slaughter-house, and poleaxe oxen until you are not able to contain yourself with joy! And then you will be merciful to my countrymen who shoot blackbirds, for the sake of your beloved Armand, ' who swims in the blood of cattle ! Sir 0. (laughing). My dear fellow, one such Frenchman as you are redeems a whole Department. I wish you’d complete the illusion by marrying an Englishwoman. De B. (seriously). Well, it may happen—who knows ? Englishwomen make admirable wives. Shall I confess ? It is the dream of my life to marry an Englishwoman. Sir 0. My dear fellow, I’m rejoiced to hear you say so. But a dream! Why a dream? Why not make it a matter of fact? To a man with your qualities there should be no difficulty in doing that. De B. Ah, but I am not rich ; and although there are plenty of rich Englishgirls, I am no fortune-hunter. I must first love—and if Ichance to love a rich girl and to be beloved in return, it is well, and I shall marry her; but if she happened to be poor—well, I could not forego her on account of her poverty, nor could I marry her on account of mine. Shall I tell you a secret which has been on the tip of my tongue for six weeks past? I once proposed to an enormously rich woman, and I confess that it was her wealth that fascinated me. It was the first time, and it shall be the last. Sir C. An English girl ? . De B. Not English, and no girl. An American, ten years older than I, but still sulficiently young. She accepted me—at least so it was understood. But it’s an old story. A better suitor presented himself, and I received my conga’, and it served 398 THE F01ly lucky—lucky in being able to make up your mind to quit so charming a lady, and lucky to have. so charming a lady to return to when your holiday is at an end. Frankly, if I were in your case, even the Duchess of Du.ndee—- (“ Hush! ”from DE Barivnmn)-—would not lure me from her side. With me, the end of my holiday would be its beginning. De B. My good Lachaud, it is easy to theorize about the married felicity of one’s friends. But theories have this failing —that they are apt to be fallacies. h ].a.ch. What do you mean? In Madame De Bréville you ave De B. In Madame de Bréville I have a beautiful and blame- less wife, of whom everyone would approve except the only people whose approval is important to us—my parents. L¢wh' IS it possible that your parents have any fault to find . THE FORTOWE'HUlVTER' 413 with her? To know Madame de Bréville is to accept her as a miraculous incarnation of an impossible abstraction! De B. Perhaps; but my parents do not know Madame de Bréville. More than that, they never will know her. Lach. You astound me! But you were of age when you married. Twenty-nine, were you not ? De B. No, twenty-four. Lach. But, my dear friend, what you have just told me is very serious. You are, of course, aware that by our Civil Code before a man who is under twenty-five may marry he must obtain the consent of his father and mother, or his marriage is voidable at their pleasure. De B. Or at his own. Lash. Or at his own. De B. My dear Lachaud, I know it but too well. My parents, as you are aware, are aristocrats of the purest blood. They are poor, but their pride of lineage is superlative, and they would rather have seen their son lying dead before them than that he should marry a girl, English or French, whose people belonged to the merchant class. My only hope was to marry her and rely upon their accepting her as a daughter- in-law rather than place her in the position of a nullified wife. Lach. But your father and mother will justify your con- fidence in them? They will not condemn this innocent lady to a life of unmerited ignominy ? De B. Alas! my friend, in crediting them with such bour- geois emotions you do injustice their pride of birth. Lach. But M. le Marquis is the soul of honour. De B. He is, but his honour is not so much heroic as heraldic. The De Brissacs, the De Vincennes, the De Gallifets, and the De Contades have contributed his ingredients, and my mother is descended in a direct line from the Bretignys of Poitou. From the tone of my father’s reply to the letter in which 1 announced my marriage to him I am convinced (though I have not yet broken it to my wife) that he intends to apply at once to the Civil Tribunal for a declaration of nullity. Lach. Surely—surely you misjudge him ! De B. Ah, I know him well! And now, my dear Lachaud. I am in this difficulty: I love my wife dearly—I love my parents dearly. In marrying her I deceived them, and in taking the steps which I feel sure they intend to take they are well within their rights. This question, then, naturally arises: Am I, who wilfully deceived them, justified in allowing the odium of these proceedings to rest upon their aged shoulders? In 414 THE FOR]'U1VE'HUzVTER¢ other words, if these proceedings must be taken, is it not rather my duty to initiate them myself? . [Carefully watching the efect of his words on LACHAUD. Lach. To initiate them yourself? (DE Bs.r’:vrLLs nods.) To apply in your own name for a decree of nullity ? . De B. Rather than impose that terrible necessity.upon the shoulders of my father. Lach. But you are jesting! You are incapable of such an act of infamy towards the woman you have sworn to cherish for life! If I am deceived in this— - De B. Lachaud, I have too much respect for the sentiment that inspires a burst of honest indignation to criticize too.closely the shape in which it presents itself. You have described my proposal as an act of infamy. It is a strong expression, but let it remain until I have convinced you that it is an act of justice. Enter DIANA. Di'. I beg your pardon, Armand—l thought you _were alone. De B. This gentleman, whom you will permit me to present to you, is M. Lachaud, who is to be my travelling companion. (Aside to LAcHAnn.) Not a word about the Duchess! (Aloud.) M. Lachaud—the Vicomtesse de Bréville. Lach. Madame la Vicomtesse, I am overjoyed at the honour that is conferred upon me. (Aside) Poor lady I Poor lady ! Dia. (with assumed gaiety). You have come to rob me of my husband, M. Lachaud. This is not kind, for he has only been home a week. Will you. not relent, and spare him to me a little longer ? . Lacli. Madame, it distresses me beyond measure that my presentation to you should be associated in your mindwith so deplorable a circumstance as M. de Bréville’s departure. But pardon me, Madame—I do not take him from you. Did. True-—he goes willingly! Lach. M. de Bréville has, no doubt, some adieux to make which it would ill become me to interrupt. If Madame will permit me to retire Dia. It is unnecessary. M. de Bréville is so well accustomed to take leave of me that our farewells are of a very business—like description. And we pait for so short a time—three months—- perhaps only two! De B. Pardon me, my child, but if Lachaud will permit me, I would gladly be alone with you for a few minutes. [LAcHAUD bows, and Dia. (surprised). Armand! What can you have to say to me that M. Lachaud should not hear ? . l . THE Fozervwe-H1/1v:'ask. 415 De B. (with some emotion). I have only to say farewell, Diana. It is a little word, but—sometimes it means much. Only farewell! Dia. Why—Armandl (Looking into his eyes.) One—one would think you were sorry to go! - De B. I am. Deeply sorry, Diana. Dia. (surprised at his emotion). Are you—are you in earnest, Armand ? De B. (sighing). Yes, Diana-—I anrin earnest! Dia. (looking earnesliy at him). Armand! Why, this is music from heaven! Months have passed since you spoke to me in this way! What can it mean ? De B. You know that I have a foolish unreasoning faith in presentiment. Well, I have a foreboding that a calamity is in store for you—that grave sorrow may come upon you before long. You are in the habit of laughing at my forebodings, but they impress me, and I cannot shake them off. And so, Diana, I am very sad at leaving you. Dia. A calamity! (b'u,ddenly.) You have no quarrel on hand ? You are not in any danger ? De B. No-—I know of none. (DIANA relieved.) Yet if a heavy blow should fall on you during my absence——- Dia. Do you mean if you should die? De 1!. Put it in that way, if you will. If my foreboding should come true—if it should come to pass that" you find yourself husbandless—hardeE your heart towards me, my child, and remember that I am one who is not worth weeping for- that I am a cold, cruel, self-seeking man, who has so poor an appreciation of wifely love that he has dared to repay your priceless devotion with coldness, indiflerence, and neglect. Bah! such a man is not worth a tear. Dia. Armand, it is cruel—it is foolish to say these things to m_e! There is a quiver in your voice which gives them the lie. Oh, forget my reproaches! When you hold me to you as you hold me now, I know that I have misjudged you, and my heart harks back to the days when your love was as the torrid sun, and I live once more the supreme life that I lived then. It is not that you have not loved me enough, but that I have loved you too well. Oh, my God, can it be that the love I had I have again? It will abide with you, Armand, while you are away—and it will come back with.you—it wil1 come back with you? [Kneels, sobbing at his feet. De B. Yes, yes. Diana—surely»—surely! There, there-—be brave and strong! I am not worth such love. Diana—1et me go, or I shall break down! 416 THE FORTU1VE—HU./VTER. Dia. N o—stop there-—stop there—give me time to stamp this moment on my memory! There—I have it—go—I can bear it now! . De B. Farewell, Diana! There-—think of me at my worst, and waste no time on me! Adieu! [Emit DE Bruévrrmn hastily. Dia. (staggers to a table, on which she rests). He is gone! This parting, that has brooded over me like a bird of evil omen during the past week, it is over, and—God help me !—it has left me happier than I have been for ‘months past! What in Heaven’s name is the cause of this strange sense of calm relief, as if some wringing pain had been suddenly assuaged ? (Sud— denly, as if a light had broken on her.) The man loves me! loves me! Ah, God, it is that! It has all come back to me again! There has been a dark and sombre interval-—an interval of gloom and deadness—but the cloud has passed, and the glorious sun beams full upon me in all its torrid fervour—as of old—as of old! [Enter servant, with card. Serv. A gentleman desires to see Madame la Vicomtesse. Dia. To see me! (Takes card.) Sir Cuthbert Jameson l Show this gentleman in, at once! (Erit Servant.) Sir Cuthbert Jameson, of all men! It is well that he comes at this moment ; it is well that he comes when I can tell him, frankly and truth- fully, that I am as happy as he could desire me to be! (Enter Servant, showing in SIR CUTHBERT.) Ah, Sir Cuthbert, this is indeed a most welcome and most delightful surprise! I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to see you, my dear, dear old friend! Sir C. Thank you heartily for your kind reception. I should have given you notice of my intention to call upon you, but I started for Paris at an hour’s notice, and I arrived only an hour . ago, and—well, lcouldn’t wait! And how is Armand, and where is he? _ Dia. How unfortunate! He has just left for Monte Carlo on his way to Naples. . He will be very sorry when he learns that he has missed you. Ten minutes sooner and you would have seen him. Str C. That’s unlucky indeed, for I have a proposal to make to which his consent is indispensable. Dia. A proposal? Sir 0. Yes. I don’t, as a rule, interfere in other people’s affairs, but I confess I am not quite happy about this marriage of yours—without the consent and approval of his parents. Dim. But you know how we were situated. I wrote and told you all. THE FORTUNE-HUNTER. 417 Sir C. Yes, yes! Well, ‘we won’t discuss that. You know my views on the subject of concealment in such matters, and there’s no necessity to repeat them. The mischief’s done, and now the only question is—What is the best thing to do, and can I be of any service in helping you to do it? Dia. You are very, very kind. Sir C. Not a bit. I’m a fidgety old fellow, whose mind is not at rest upon this matter, and in my own interests I want to quiet it—that’s all. Now, in the first place, have your husband’s parents been informed of his marriage? Dia. Yes. Armand wrote to them (they are at Tours—his father is the General commanding the district), telling them everything. Sir 0. Come, that’s well. And they ? Dia. They contented themselves with a cold acknowledgment of the receipt of his letter. Sir C. That is all ? Dia. That is all. _ Sir 0. Then, surely, if there ever was a case for an inter- mediary this is one. I will wire to De Bréville for his sanction, and as soon as I get it I will start for Tours, and the deuce is in it if [don’t bring them round. I can start to-morrow and be back again in a couple of days, and perhaps bring them with me. N0w—what do you say ? Dia. I say that you are a good, true, and tried friend, and that whatever you think it right to do will be the best thing that could be done. Sir C. Then I take that as consent. Now, tell me about yourself. You are well and thoroughly happy? Dia. Quite well, and, but for the difficulty you have referred to, as happy as ever I was in my life. Sir G. Come, that’s good news indeed. And you don’t find it irksome to be chained down to one spot? Dia. I must make the best of a necessity which, after all, is not so very terrible. Of course, this is very unlike the life I intended to lead, but since the failure of the Brisbane Bank our resources have been much straitened, and when Armand has to go abroad he cannot afford to take me with him. But you must not suppose that I am complaining. Sir C. You are a brave lady, indeed. And so Armand is on his way to Monte Carlo ? Di‘. For a few days only—on his way to Naples. Sir (1. He will find an old friend at Monte Carlo or at Naples —her Grace of Dundee. Dia. (surprised). The Duchess of Dundee ? 1v. 2 E 413 015 F0lz’7_'U1VE—f](/NTER. . Sir C. Yes—didn’t you know she was .there? Dia. (agitated). No. No, I did not know it. Sir C. Oh, yes. The jolly widow is (in her expressive vernacular) simply making the place hum. She has bought a lovely chéteau—the Villa Bonaventura. She gives magnificent fr?tes——plays heavily—d0esn’t care what. she loses—and alto- gether, as she says, does her best to make up the lee-way that she lost when Tommy was more or less alive. She spends her time between Monte Carlo and Naples, running backwards and forwards in her fifteen hundred ton steam yacht, the Flying Eagle. Altogether, she’s the presiding genius of the place. Dia. (aside). He did not tell me that that woman was there. He must have known it--—why did he keep it from me? He_ knows that I hate her-—hate her! ‘ ‘ Sir C. (noticing her agitation). My dear lady, what in the world is the matter ‘. Dia. N othing-—nothing— (after a pause, throws her.-gel/" sobbing on the s0fa)—Oh, I see it all now! Oh, my God, I see it all—— I see it all ! . ' _ . Sir O. Come, come—-this won’t do !" Surely there is nothing to distress you in the fact that the Duchess happens to be at Monte Carlo ? . _ _ ' ' Dia. Sir Cuthbert, I told you justnow thatl was as happy as I have ever been. When I spoke it was true, for my husband —cold, polite, insensible a_s_a rule-'-had displayed an emotion at leaving me which filled me _with a' joy to which I have been for months a stranger. But I have good reason to believe that this woman attracts him-—he concealed from me the fact that she is lthere—and he has gone to her. That’s all—he has gone to her Sir C. My dearVicomtesse, you are surely torturing yourself with groundless suspicions. The Duchess is . Dia. The duchess is an old flame of his—he was onceengaged to marry her. When he went to London he stopped at her house in Park Lane. His letters to me were dated_ from the Embassy, and 1 only learnt the truth through the gossip of a Society paper. Now, although we are desperately pressed for money, he takes Monte Carlo on his road to Naples—whither she is in the habit of going—in her steam yacht—_in her steam yacht 1 Sir 0. But all this is open to very obvious explanations Dia. It is open to an explanation that might, perhaps, satisfy anybody but arjealous woman. But lam a jealous woman, and I am not prepared to accept miraculous coincidences. It is well that you should know the truth. When I was rich, he loved me after the manner of his kin(l—when I lost all, his affection, . 422 ' THE FOR TUNE-HUA/‘TEA’. may appear to be illibcral and narrow-minded. Still it exists, and must therefore be reckoned with. Sir C. Well, sir, now that I know your views upon this point, I must admit that in keeping his intended marriage secret from you, your son was not as blameworthy as I supposed him to be. - Marquis. And you will pardon me, Sir Cuthbert Jameson, if I remind you that he is always blameworthy who defies the laws of his country. Sir 0. How do you mean ? What law has he defied ? . Marquis. He has broken the 183rd Article of the Civil Code, which declares that before a‘ man who is under the_ age of twenty-f-ve may marry he must obtain the consent of his father and mother—or whichever of them may be living.‘ Sir C. But how does this apply? Your son is eight or nine and twenty. _ _ Marquise. Forgive me, sir—six months since, when he married, our son wanled four months of twenty-five. ' Sir C. You amaze me beyond measure !' Marquise. You will not tell me, sir, that our son has deceived you upon this point? ‘ ' Sir C. I certainly cannot, at this moment, charge my memory with any direct statement of his to that effect, but the impression on my mind? Marquis. Still, sir, it is beyond all question that he was under legal age when he went through the form of marriage with this lady—consequently his act in marrying her without our consent is not only unpardonable—il: is illegal. Forgive me, sir, if we appear to you to be unreasonable, but you are an Englishman, and you do not understand these things. We have the honour to wish you ood-day. They are about to leave the room. Enter DIANA, deadly pale and tremblring with agitation. She holds an open letter in her hand. Dia. Stay—do not go yet. Something has happened, and you must hear it. I have just received a lctter—froIn your son. It was written-—before he left-—and has been brought to me—by a commissionaire from the railway station. Sir Cuthbert—read it to them—I can’t—I can’t ! (Sm C-UTHBERT takes the letter and reads.) Sir 0. (reads). “ It pains me deeply to have to reveal to you, by means of a letter, a terrible catastrophe which, I frankly admit, I had not the courage to break to you, face to face. When we were married I was, unfortunately, still under legal age. This ‘THE FOR '1 ‘U/VE-H UN 7 ‘ER. 42 5 stateroom No. 3, next to C01. and Mrs. Pogson E. Bewilder. Her Grace wrote to him on her arrival, two days ago, to tell him she intended to take him back with her in her yacht, and he wires from Ventimiglia to say he’ll be here this afternoon. Capt. Well, that’s prompt. Young gentleman, I believe, this time ? McFic. Young? Just a rideeculously raw boy! Sax-aud- twenty, sir! Sax-and-twenty ! Capt. Well, that's only fair—eighty-four and twenty-six-— average that, and it pans out fifty-five. Business man ? McFie. Well, not exactly, but I should say he's gifted with a varra remarkable business instinct. He’s as poor as a rat, and he’s secured a Duchess with £85,007) a year. Capt. Well, it does him credit. Good clay, Mr. McFie. You can tell her Grace that the yacht will be ready to weigh any time after ten on Thursday morning. McFie. l’ll mention it. Good day, Captain Munro. (Emit CArvrAIN.) Ah, it’s a peety—a verra great peety! Amagni- ficent wumman—in the prime 0’ life—not a day over forty- with her intellect matured, and all her physical faculties in the highest state of development, just squandering hersel’ on an incomplete Frenchman of sax-and-twenty! Why, the man won’t be finished for a quarter of a century yet! But a wumman’s just anither name for a fule !—take ’em when ye “gill and where ye will and how ye will, that’s a’ ye can make 0 ’em. Enter DUoEEss. Duch. Mr. MoFie, when Mr. de Bréville arrives put him in the pink room, please. ’Tain’t over big, but it’s only for two days, and it’s the only spare room left. Jl/[cFie. Certainly, your Grace. Duch. Now about these two swinrlliug pcople—the Dudley Coxes. Is the detective here? Mclrlie. Yes, your Grace. He’s sent wurrd to say that he’s just arrived from London with a warrant for their arrest on a charge of endeavouring to obtain a sum of £200 from his late Grace’s estate on a false pretence. The detective will be here, I expect, in about ten minutes. Duch. Very well. When he comes show him into the ante- room and let me know. When is Mr. Dudley Coxe to call? McFie. Well, he’s due now. Duch. Have you got his letters ? McFie. Here are two which he wrote to his Grace asking him what had become of the £200 which he entrusted to his Grace . '1 HE F019 T U./V1z‘-H UN 7 ER. 429 Mr. Code. Well, really it was such an insignificant matter that—well, it was partly this :-—As you no doubt know, the poor Duke had an infallible system at roulette-—givcn him by some Archimandrite or other on his death-bed. Duch. The Duke’s death-bed ? Mr. Come. No-—the Archimandrite’s; and when we met at Port Said I left a trifle with him?- Duch. With the Archimandrite ? Mr. Gare. No, with the Duke—to be staked on my behalf, and my letters were merely to-ask if anything had been done with it—that’s all. Duch. And you received no reply ? Mr. Come. Well, no—0ddly enough. Duch. As an old friend that must have surprised you. Mr. Come. Well, it did, because we were always on such very good terms-—and I can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear that his Grace was dead, because that explained his silence so satisfactorily. . 9 Jlfrs. C'0a;e (aside). Dudley's tact is wonderful! Duch. He gave you some acknowledgment, I guess ? Mr. Come. Oh, no-—no—we—we never took receipts from each other! Duch. Just like poor Tommy! But we must be more business-like. Now it’s quite clear that this sum—whatever it was Mr. Come. What was it, Godiva? Mrs. C‘re. Two hundred pounds, dear, you said. Duch. Must be due to you now, because the Duke was con- fined to his room with gout during the whole time of his stay here, and certainly never showec his nose inside the Casino anyhow. ‘ . ' Mr. Gore. Indeed? Then, ha! ha! if we are to take a strictly prosaic view of the situation, as your Grace insists, it does look as though I had some sort of claim on his Grace’s estate, though, to be perfectly frank with you, it never occurred to me to look at it in that light until you mentioned it. ' Duch. Some sort of claim! Why, my dear Mr. Coxe (CoxE . murmurs “Ooxe-Coxe”), by your own showing it’s a distinct _ debt, and I may as well write you a cheque at once ! [W"rites. .Mrs. Come (aside). Dudley, you’re a genius! Mr. Come (aside). Told you I'd manage it! . Duc/r. There you are. I’ll take a receipt, please, because I shall have to claim againstthe executors. Mr. Come. Most certainly. _ _ [Writes. Mrs. Oome. ‘It’s really most kind of your Grace. You can THE _ FOR TUNE -If U1VTls'l<‘. 43: for your arrest, duly backed by a Bow Street magistrate. (Put- ting hamicufls on them.) And it’s my duty to caution you that any statement you may make will be used in evidence against you. ‘ Mr. Coate. But—— . Mrs. Come. Oh, Dudley, Dudley, say something, unless you wish to see your wife a galley slave! Mr. Coxe. This-—this is most unwarrantab1e—most disgrace- ful. (To Docnsss.) You shall pay for this, m’am. This is not the United States—this is a free country—at least England is—and you commit this outrage at your peril. [During this Mns. CoxE-CoxE, who is sobbing, has been unsuccessfully endeavouring to get her handkerchief out of her handbag, but is prevented by handcufs. Mrs. Coxe. Dudley—(sm'fl)-—my_ handkerchief-—(sn1Ifl°). ]l[r. Come. Certainly, my love (takes it out of her hand-bag ‘and dubs her eyes and nose with it). . Enter BARKER. ll Bar. Your Grace wished to speak to me? Mr. Coxe (astonished). Why, there is the very man Ilent the money to ! . Mrs. Coxe. Oh, sir, you will endorse my husband’s statement —the £200 that be entrusted to you at Port Said. 'l‘hey’ve put these dreadful things. upon us because he claimed the money. _ Bar. I don’t know what the lady means. Duch. This person is my courier—Mr. John Barker. Mr. Come. Courier! Y on a confounded courier ? Why, this low-bred scoundrel allowed me to believe that he was—a—- a . Duch. Your old and intimate friend ? ‘ Mr. Come. A—yes-—and took the £200. A courier, Godiva, a damned courier ! Bar. I don’t know what you mean, sir. I have never repre- sented that I am the Duke of Dundee, and I never saw you in my life before. Enter De Ba1§v1LLE, as from a journey. De B. That statement is not true, Mr. Barker. Duch. Armand l _ _ . De B. You certainly entered into conversation with Mr. Coxe at Port Said, and I happen to know that he was under the impression that he was speaking to the Duke of Dundee. 4;; ma FOR rum-zzawrasr. Bar. It’s not my fault if Mr. Coxe mistook me for his Grace. The money was employed as Mr. Coxe directed. I lost it in fair play. _ Duch. Very good—y0u can go, and don’t come back. Take you your books to Mr. MeFie—he will settle with you; Be off ! [Emit BARKER. Mr. Come. Mr. De Bréville, we are deeply indebted to you for your timely interposition. (Both shaking hands with him.) Excuse me-—it’s difficult in these things: I’m not used to them. De B. No apologies, Mr. Coxe, I beg. (To PoLLARD.) You may remove these things. (PoLLARD takes of handcufs from both.) Duchess, these are merely two of Nature’s noblepeople who have got themselves into difiiculties through an amiable desire to associate with their superiors in mere social rank. Do not let us press hardly on them. After all, it was a tribute to _ the charm of his Grace’s society. Mr. Cooce. Let me tell you, sir—— De B. It is an excusable ambition, Mr. Coxe, which you share with many of your amiable countrymen and women. But, my good Coxe (CoxE shouts “Coxe-Coxe, sir! ”), permit me to give you a hint. If you are an amateur of blaoking, lick the boots of as many noblemen as will permit you to do so— ah, there areplenty !—but before you begin, make quite sure that the blacking has the proper aristocratic bouquet. The blacking of a courier is not nice. Mr. Covce. Why, you infernal Frenehman— . [Going_ up t/rreatem'nYgiy .to Dr. Bmtvirmn, who turns suddenly on him). De B. Well, sir ? . Mrs. Couce. Oh, do come away, Dudley! He's not a gentle- man—he’ll call you out! _ Mr. Come. You’re right. He’s beneath my notice! And as for you, ma’am (to DUcrmss), take your cheque, ma’am; (Handing it to her.) Mz‘s. Come. Oh, Dudley! . . Mr. Come. Take your cheque! I’ve not the advantage of knowing what the code of etiquette may be in Chicago pork circles, but it may interest you to learn that in a civilized country no one has a right to hold his head higher than an English gentleman ! ‘ Mrs. Come. Oh, Dudley, don’t be too hard upon her! You are so trenchant! . Afr. Come. Trenchant! She’s brought it on herself, and it serves her right! Come away, Godiva. THE FOR TUNE-HUNTER. 433 [DE BEiivrLLE opens window for MR. Coxs. Coxr: goes up to him. Mr. G_re. You—you’d feel uncommonly small if you knew the profound contempt I have for you-—you Mrs. Come. Oh, do come away, Dudley ! (drags him of back- wards). [PoLLARn erits into ante-room. DUCmcss looks after them for a moment, and then sits down to write. De B. Duchess, have you no welcome for me? Duch. Welcome? Why, I’m just bubblin’ over with it- only let me get these people off my mind first and you’ll see, my dear! De B. What people? Duch. These poor Dudley Coxes. De B. Ah, never concern yourself about those snobs ! Duch. Well, Coxe is a snob-there’s no two ways out of that. But, Lord bless you, so am I! I’ve worked a bit harder and paid a bit dearer than he has to get into good society—and, after all, he was only claiming what he believed to be his own. (Rings.) So there’s his cheque—and much good may it do him. (Enter SERvANT.) Take that note to the Hotel de Paris —there’s no answer. (Emit SEltvAI\"r.) And now, Armand-— now for the welcome l It’s real smart of you to turn up just in time. The yacht’s laying off Nice, and we up-anchor on Friday. In a- fortnight we ought to rise Sandy Hook, and in a week or so after that you’ll—well, you’ll be about the richest Frenchman ’tween this and Dunkirk. Why, gracious, De Bréville, what’s wrong? You look as down on your luck as a damp eagle on the moultl De. B. Duchess, there is much that is wrong, and I must tell you at once that I am the wrong-doer. Duch. Why, what on airth are you steering at ? ])e B. I have been gUilty of a mean and miserable injustice, and I have come here to ask you, as the good and great-hearted woman I know you to be, to encourage me to repair it. Duch. W.hy, yes—if dollars will do it it’s as good as done. But whom, in pity's name, have you been injusring? Not a woman, De Bréville-—don’t say it’s a woman ! De B. Alas, it is a woman! Duch. Not a young one, De Bréville—don’t say it’s a young one ! De B. A young, beautiful, and blameless woman. Duch. (aside). Oh, what’s coming—wbat’s coming! (Aloud.) Who—who is she? De B. She is, at present, my wife. lv, 2 F . 434 THE FOR TUNE-HUNTER. Duch. Your what! !! Do you mean to tell‘me that when you came messing around me in Park Lane you were a married man! ' De B. Before I became of age I went through the form of marriave with a lady. I need not tell you how good and how beautifIil a lady, for you knew her on board the Africa as Diana Caverel. " Duch. (moaning). Oh, I might have guessed it—I might have guessed it"! De OB. As I had designedly omitted to obtain my parents’ consent, that marriage is voidable, and, as matters stand, will be annulled in a f0rtni<1ht’s time. ' Duch. And do youamean to tell me that you—great, big brawny tiger-shooter as you are—:leserted that unhappyyoung critter because your Poppa and your Mumma refused their con- sent' ‘ De B. I had not even that poor excuse, for my parents, in gheir riglhteous indigHgtilon at ta/lie outragel had committed, took er to t eir hearts an isown me. Dach. Bully for them, anyhow! Well, I ’spose I’ve deserved this, but it comes hard and heavy for all that—vurry hard and vurry heavy ! But there‘-—I’!l take it that I treated you real mean two (years since, and you’re payin’ me back in my own coin. Tain’t han seine De Bréville but anyhow I’m not the sort of woman to nail a bad dollar to, the counter, so go you right away afore I break up, please. I’m a stupid, middle-aged woman with a thumping big_ British title, and a Niagara of dollars pouring, dayhafter day, mto her bankmg accgunt, ang ylioou reba Frenchman wit nary cent to your name an more e ts t an you could reckon up ’tw'ixt this and ’F1’risco, and for all that, at present speaking, I don’t rightly know how I’m going to fix myself up wrtliout you. Well, some good ll come of it anyhow, for, by- well, by the President of the United States, to put zt no higher -—I’ll get such a sickener of Frenchmen out of this as’ll set my 1l;er'cept1ons right end up for the rest of my natural life, thanks e. De Now, Duchess, bring your kind and generous heart into this conference, and let it decide the point at issue. It is m my mind to atone for my misdoing, as far as atonement is 2222312 :5? "fFg‘-“%‘"°1Z"‘°i‘i*"’; a i in 0 er e again. Now, Duchess, I iinililore you to help nie to do this. “I know _your generous nature ;‘ I know it so well that I count implicitly on your readily settmg aside the injury I have worked upon you that I may be at liberty to repair the incalculably 438 71'.15 FORTUNE-HUN’1Z:‘1i’. Enter Lionwni Lach. (coldly). I received your message, and I am here. What do you want with me ? ' De B. I want to tell you that which will, I hope, re-establish me in your goodwill. . Lach. De Bréville, I am bound to presume that you are acting in accordance with what you believe to be your duty. I do not share your views, but as they are justified by the Code I cannot refuse to carry them forward. I bear you no ill-will. De B. Thank you. You will, then, be pleased to hear that I have abandoned my intention to apply for a decree. We have still three days—you must arrest these proceedings at once. Lach. Three days ?_ Say, rather, three hours! .De B. What do you mean ? ‘ _ _ Lach. (producing telegram). I have just heard that the great case of Dupin against the Paris, Lyon, and Mediterranean was unexpectedly settled this morning. Your application will come before the Court this afternoon. My pirtner, Martel, will be there to represent you. Dc B. This afternoon ? Lach. In all probability this afternoon. De B. You must stop it by telegram. Quick,‘Lachaud, there . is not a moment to lose. Lach. Impossible. A case of such importance cannot be withdrawn at the last‘ moment by telegram. All the afiidavits are before the Court, and no earthly power can stop it now. De B. (significantly). You are wrong, Lachaud—you are wrong. For instance, if I were to die Lach. Ah! if you were to die—— ‘ ' De B. The death of a plaintiff puts a stop to all personal actions. Lach. No doubt, but ' [DE Bs15:vn.LE turns away from LAcHAUD, and takes a small phial from his waistcoat ocket. LACHAITD watches him closely. As Dr. BREvILIJ'‘. is about to take out the stopper, LACHAUD rushes at him, and in the struggle the phial falls, broken, to the ground. De B. (furiously, during struggle). Devil take you, let me go! Curse you! let go, I say! Lach. You'll not leave this house in your present state of mind. "(Struggling with DE Bm’;v1LLE.) Come come, be reasonable! De B. I tell you I am resolved. Lacb. And so am I. Great heavens, man, do you think-I am . . 442 ZHE FORTUNE-HUV/EA. CUTHBERT lunges, DE BREviLLE stands bolt upright throws up both arms, and receives SIR. CUTHBERT's point in his breast. He staggers for a moment, and falls round into SIR CUTHBERT's arms. Sir C. My God, he has killed himself! Lachaud—witness that he threw up his guard intentionally. Lachaud—call a doctor—alarm the house! [Exit LACHAUD, hurriedly. De B. (as SIR. CUTHBERT lays him tenderly on a cushion). Ah, Sir Cuthbert—my friend—ever my friend, and my truest friend now—of all the kindly offices you have done me, this last is the best and the kindliest ! Sir C. But why, in Heaven's name, have you forced me to this 2 De B. There is no time for details—enough that it became necessary that I should efface myself, and to do so, I forced this quarrel upon you. As a dying man I tell you that I am sorry and ashamed. Enter DUCHESS, LACHAUD, Servants, Visitors, and lastly DIANA. Duch. For pity's sake, Sir Cuthbert, what has happened? What does this mean 2 De B. Madame, I have been most gravely wounded by Sir Cuthbert in a fair and honourable encounter which I violently forced upon him. He had no alternative; Lachaud will tell you so. Diana! (She kneels by him and supports him.) I have most grievously wronged you, and I implore you to believe my dying words that I repent from my very heart. I—I entreat you to kiss me, for I die. (She kisses him.) Cuthbert —my friend—my old friend-you will forgive me for causing you this pain? Ah, it was the only way! Sir C. My poor De Bréville! (Takes his hand.) De B. I thank you. I am grieved to give you so much trouble, Duchess (DUCHEss is weeping), but # was much in the way of everybody—and when one is in everybody's way it behoves one to withdraw. Cuthbert—my old friend—you will take good care of Diana–I know you will take good care. (Dies.) - ("RTAIN. DRAMATIS PERSONAE GODS. JUPITER • * * - - - ... MR. JoHN MACLEAN. APOLLO Aged ... • * * - - - ... MR. F. SULLIVAN. MARs Deities • * * • * * ... MR. Wood. DIANA • * * ... MRs. H. LEIGH. MERCURY ... • * * - - - - ... Miss E. FARREN. THE SPIANS. THESPIs •- - •- - - - ... MR. J. L. ToolE. SILLIMON ... - - - - ... MR. J. G. TAYLOR. TIMIDON • - - - - - - - - - ... MR. MARSHALL. TIPscION ... • * * - - - - - ... MR. RoBERT SouTAR. PREPosTERos • - - - - - ... MR. H. PAYNE. STUPIDAs ... - - - - -- ... MR. F. PAYNE. SPARKEION ... - - - - - - - ... MDLLE. CLARY. NICEMIs - - - - - - - ... Miss CoNSTANCE LOSEBY. PRETTELA ... - - - - - ... Miss BEREND. DAPHNE - -- - - ... Miss ANNIE TREMAINE. CYMON - - • * * - ... Miss L. WILSON. ACT I. RUINED TEMPLE ON THE SUMMIT OF OLYMPUS. ACT II. THE SAME SCENE, WITH THE RUINS RESTORED. Time in Representation: One Hour and Three-quarters. 448 THESPIS ; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. I’m the slave of the Gods, neck and heels, And I'm bound to obey, though I rate at ‘em ; And I not only order their meals, _ But I cook ‘em, and serve ’em, and wait at ’em. Then I make all their nectar--1 do— (Which is terrible liquor to rack us is) And whenever I mix thern a brew, Why all the thanksgivings are Bacchus's ! Well, well, it’s the way of the world, &o. Then reading and writing I teach, And spelling-books many I‘ve edited ! And for bringin those arts within reach, That donkey Iinerva gets credited. Then I scrape at the stars with a knife, And plate-powder the moon (on the days for it), And I hear all the world and his wife Awardin Diana the praise for it ! Vell, well, it's the way of the world, &c. [After s0ng—very loud and majestic mus't'c is heard. Dia. and Mer. (looking of). Why, who’s this ? Jupiter, by Jove! Enter JUrITER, an emtremely old man, very decrepit, with ve-- thin straggling white beard, he wears a long braidai dressing-gown, handsomely trimmed, and a silk m'ght—cap on his head. MERCURY falls back respectfully as he enters. Jup. Good day, Diana—ah Apollo—Well, well, well, what’s the matter P what’s the matter ? Dia. Why, that young scamp Mercury says that we do nothing, and leave all the duties of Olympus to him ! Will you believe it, he actually says that our influence on earth is dropping down to nil. . Jup. Well, well—don’t be hard on the lad—to tell you the truth, I'm not sure that he’s very far wrong. Don’t let it go any further, but, between ourselves, the sacrifices and votive oilerings have fallen off terribly of late. Why, I can remember the time when people offered us human sacrifices-—no mistake about it—hurnan sacrifices ! think of that! Dia. Ah! those good old days ! Jnp. Then it fell off to oxen, pigs, and sheep. Ap. Well, there are worse things than oxen, pigs, and sheep. Jup. So I’ve found to my cost. My dear sir—between our- selves, it’s dropped oil‘ from one thing to another until it has positively dwindled down to preserved Australian beef ! What do you think of that ? A1». I don’t like it at all. 450 THESPIS, OR, THE GODS GROWM OZD. Enter SPARKEION and NICEMIS climbing mountain at back. Spark. Here we are at last on the very summit, and we’ve left the others ever so far behind! Why, what's this? Nice. A ruined palace : A palace on the top of a mountain. I wonder who lives here? Some mighty king, I dare say, with wealth beyond all counting, who came to live up here— Sp. To avoid his creditors! It's a lovely situation for a country house, though it's very much out of repair. Nice. Very inconvenient situation Sp. Inconvenient P Nice. Yes—how are you to get butter, milk, and eggs up here ? No pigs—no poultry—no postman. Why, I should go mad. Sp. What a dear little practical mind it is ! What a wife you will make! Nice. Don’t be too sure—we are only partly married—the marriage ceremony lasts all day. Sp. I’ve no doubt at all about it. We shall be as happy as a king and queen, though we are only a strolling actor and actress. Nice. It's very kind of Thespis to celebrate our marriage day by giving the company a pic-nic on this lovely mountain. Sp. And still more kind to allow us to get so much ahead of all the others. Discreet Thespis! - [Kissing her. Nice. There now, get away, do! Remember the marriage ceremony is not yet completed. Sp. But it would be ungrateful to Thespis's discretion not to take advantage of it by improving the opportunity. Mice. Certainly not; get away. Sp. On second thoughts the opportunity’s so good it don't admit of improvement. There ! [Kisses her. Nice. How dare you kiss me before we are quite married? Sp. Attribute it to the intoxicating influence of the mountain alr. Nice. Then we had better go down again. It is not right to expose ourselves to luences over which we have no control. -SPARKEion and NicEMIs. Sp. refar away from all the world, Dissension and derision, ith Nature's wonders all unfurled To our delighted vision, YHESPIS; OR, THE GOD.S"_GROW./V OLD. 451 With no one here (At least in sight) To interfere With our delight, And two fond lovers sever, Oh do not free, Thine hand from mine, I swear to thee . My love is thine, . For ever and for ever ! N ice. On mountain top the air is keen, And most exhilarating, And we say things we do not mean In moments_ less elating. So lease to wait, or thoughts that crop, En teite-$1-téte, On mountain top, May not exactly tally With those that you May entertain, Returning to The sober plain Of.yon relaxing valley. Sp. Very well—if you won’t have anything to‘say to me, I know who will. . . Nice. Who will ? Sp. Daphne will. " Nice. Daphne would flirt with anybody. Sp. Anybody would flirt with Daphne. She is quite as pretty as ou and has twice as much back-hair. Nice. S e.has twice as much money, which may account for it. “ Sp. At all events, she has appreciation. She likes good looks. Nice. We all like what we haven’t got. Sp. She keeps her eyes open. ‘ Nice. Yes—one of them. Sp. Which one ?' Nice. The one she doesn’t wink with. Sp. Well, I was engaged to her for six months and if she still makes eyes at me, you must attribute it to force of habit. Besides—remember—we are only half-married at present. Nice. I suppose you mean that you are going to treat me as shamefully as you treated her. Very well, break it off if you like. I shall not offer any objection. Thespis used to be very attentive to me, and I’d just as soon be a manager’s wife as _a fifth-rate actors! "' ' 452 YHESPIS; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. Chorus heard, at first below, then enter DArHNE, PRETTEIA, PBErosTEEos, STUrrDAs, TIrSEION, CYMoN, and other members of TEEsrls’ company climbing over rocks at back. All carry small baskets. CnonUs—(wizh dance).* Climbing over rocky mountain, Skipping rivulet and fountain, Passmg where the willows quiver, By the ever rolling river, Swollen with the summer rain. Threading long and leafy mazes, Dotted with unnumbered daisies, Scaling rough and rugged passes, Climb the hardy lads and lasses, Till the mountain-top they gain. First Voice. Fill the cup and tread the measure, Make the most of fleeting leisure, Hail it as a true ally, Though it perish bye and bye ! Second Voice. Every moment brings a treasure Of its own especial pleasure, Though the moments quickly die, Greet them gaily as they fly ! Third Voice. Far away from grief and care, High up in the mountain air, Let us live and reign alone, In a world that’s all our own. Fourth Voice. Here enthroned in the sky, Far away from mortal eye, We‘ll be gods and make decrees, Those may honour them who lease. Chorus. Fill the cup and tre1d 1'. e measure, etc. After CEoEns AND CoUrLsrrs enter THESrIS climbing over rocks. Thes. Bless you, my people, bless you. Let the revels com- mence. After all, for thorough, unconstrained unconventional enjoyment give me a pic-nic. Prep. (very gloomily). Give him a pic-nic somebody! Thes. Be quiet Preposteros—d0n’t interrupt. Prep. Ha ha! shut up again! But no matter. [STUrIDAS endeavours, in pantomime, to reconcile him. Throughout the scene PREr. shows symptoms‘ of breaking out into a furious passion, and STUrIDAS does all he can to pacify and restrain him. Thes. The best of a pic-nic is that everybody contributes what he pleases, and nobody knows what anybody else has * Afterwards tran.'fPenzan¢¢'," nznspzs,-Tor, THE cops arson/1v OLD. 4;; brought till the last moment. Now, unpack everybody, and let’s see what there is for everybody. Nice. I have brought you—a bottle of soda water—for the claret-cup. Daph. I have brought you—a lettuce for the lobster salad. Sp. A piece of ice—for the claret-cup. Prett. A bottle of vinegar—for the lobster-salad. Cymon. A bunch of burrage for the claret-cup! Tips. A hard-boiled egg-—for the lobster salad ! Slup. One lump of sugar for the claret-cup! Prep. He has brought one lump of sugar for the claret-cup ? Ha! ha! ha! [Laughing melodramatically. Stup. Well, Preposteros, and what have you brought? Prep. 1 have brought two lumps of the very best salt for the lobster salad. Thes. Oh-—is that all? Prep. All! Ha! Ha! He asks if it is all! [STUrIDAS consoles him. Thee. But, I say—this is capital so far as it goes—nothing could be better, but it doesn’t go far enough. The claret, for instance! I don’t insist on claret—or a 1obster—I don’t insist on lobster, but a lobster salad without a lobster, why, it isn’t lobster salad. Here, Tipseion ! TIrSEION (a very drunken bloated fellow, dressed, however, with scrupulous accuracy and wearing a large medal round his neck). My Master? [Falls on his knees to THEs. and kisses his robe. Thes. Get up—don’t be a fool. Where’s the claret? W arranged last week that you were to see to that ? Tips. True, dear master. But then I was a drunkard! Thes. You were. Tips. You engaged me to play convivial parts on the strength of my personal appearance. Thes. I did. Tips. You then found that my habits interfered with my duties as low comedian. Thes. True— — Tips. You said yesterday that unless I took the pledge you would dismiss me from your company. Thes. Quite so. Tips. Good. I have taken it. It is all I have taken since yesterday. My preserver ! [Embraces him. Thes. Yes, but where’s the wine? Tips. I left it behind, that I might not be tempted to violate my pledge. 454 rzzzspzs; on, THE cops GROWMOLD. r " I‘. Prep. Minion ! " ' ' . [Attempts to get at him, i- restrained by STUrIDAS; Thee. Now, Preposteros, what is the matter with you? ' Prep. It is enough that I am down-trodden in; my pro-' fession. I will not submit to imposition out of _it. - lt'. is enough that as your heavy villain I get the worst of it every night in a combat of six. I will not submit to insult in the day time. I have come out, hal ha ! to enjoy myself! . ‘_ Thes. But look here, you know—‘virtue only triumphs at night from seven to ten—vice gets the best of it during the other twenty-three hours. Won’t that satisfy you ? _ _ "' [sTUrmAs endeavours to paotfy him‘. Prep. (irritated to STUr.). Ye are odious to‘ my sight! get outofit! ' — . " Stup. (t great terror). What have I done? Thes. Now what is it, Preposteros, what is‘ it ? _ Prep. I a—hate him and would have his life! ' ' . ' ‘ - T/zes. (to STU1>.). That’s it—he hates you and would have your life. Now go and be merry. ‘ " ‘ 7‘ ' " ‘ " Stup. Yes, but why does he hate me ? _ ‘ ' ‘ Thes. Oh—exactly. (To 1_’EEr.)* Why do yonihdte him? ' ' Prep. Because he isarninion!_' . ‘ = _ " ' Tires. He hates you because you'r"1jre.tii'ntlnlbn. »‘1't'explhine itself. Now go and enjoy yourselves. Ha! hell "“'It‘is5well'for those who can laugh—let themdo so—there is no extra charge. The light-hearted cup and the convivial jest‘ for them—but .for Ine—what is there for me? . ' Sillimon. There is some claret cup and lobstersalad. i . ' ‘ [Handing some. Thee. (taking it). Thank you. " (Reauming.) What is there for me but anxiety—ceaseless gnawing anxiety that tears at my very vitals and rends my peace of mind asunder? There is nothing whatever for me but anxiety of the nature I have just described. The charge of these thoughtless revellers is my unhappy lot. It is not a small charge, and"itis rightly termed a lot, because they are many. Oh why’did the gods make me a manager? . - Sill. (as guessinga riddle). Why did the gods make him a manager? ' '- Sp. Why did the gods make him a manager? Dap. Why did the gods make him a manager ? Prctt. Why did the gods make him a manager ? Thea. No-—no—what are you talking about? what do you mean ? ‘ ‘ ' Dap. I’ve got it—don’t tell us——- 7I!{ESP1S,"O1\’, ’1Y{E GODS GROWN OLD. 455 All. No—no—because—because—- Thcs. (annoyed). It isn't a conundrum—it’s a misanthropical question. Why cannot I joinyou? [Retires up centre. Dap. (who is sitting with SrARKEION to the annoyance of N roams who is crying alone). I’m sure I don’t know. We do not want you. Don’t distress yourself on our account—we are getting on very comfortably-—_aren’t we, Sparkeion ? Spar. We are so happy that we don’t miss the lobster or the claret. What are lobster and claret compared with the society of those we love ? [Embracing DArnuE. Dap. Why, Nicemis, love, you are eating nothing. Aren’t you happy, dear ? Nice. (spitefnlly). You are quite welcome to my share of everything. I intend to console myself with the society of my manager. [Takes Tnnsris’ arm afectionately. Thes. Here I say—this wgn’t do, you know—I can’t allow it —at least before my company—besides, you are half married to Sparkeion, Sparkeion, here's your half-wife impairing my influence before my company. Don’t you know the story of the gentleman who undermined his influence by associating with his inferiors ? All. Yes, yes,—we know it. Prep. (furiously). I do not know it! It’s ever thus l Doomed to disappointment from my earliest years . [STUrn)As endeavours to console him. Thes. There—that's enough. Preposteros—you shall hearit. . Soxe.-Trmsrrs. I once knew a chap who discharged a function On the North South East West Diddlesex junction, He was conspicuous exceeding, For his affable ways and his easy breeding. Although a Chairman of Directors, He was hand in glove with the ticket inspectors, He tipped the guards with bran-new fivers, And sang little songs to the engine drivers. ’Twas told to me with great compunction, By one who had discharged with.unction, A Chairman of Directors function, On the North South East West Diddlesex junction. Fol diddle, lol diddle, lol lol lay. Each Christmas Day he gave each stoker A silver shovel and a golden poker, He’d button-hole flowers for the ticket sorters, And rich Bath-buns for the outside porters. 456 THESPIS ; OR, THE GODS; GROWN OLD. He’d mount the clerks on his first-class hunters, And he built little villas for the road-side shunters, And if any were fond of pigeon shooting. He'd ask them down to his place at Tooting. ’Twas told to me, etc. In course of time there spread a rumour That he did all this from a sense of humour, So instead of signalling and stoking, They gave themselves up to a course of joking. Whenever they knew that he was riding, They shunted his train on lonely siding, Or stopped all night in the middle of a tunnel, On the plea that the boiler was a-coming through the funnel. ‘Twas told to me, etc. If he wished to go to Perth or Stirling, His train through several counties whirling, Would set him down in a fit of lurking, At four a.m. in the wilds of Barking. This pleased his whim and seemed to strike it, But the general Public did not like it, The receipts fell, after a few repeatings, And he got it hot at the annual meetings, ‘Twas told to me, etc. He followed out his whim with vigour, The shares went down to a nominal figure, These are the sad results proceeding From his affable ways and his easy breeding l The line, with its rails and guards and peelers, Was sold for a song to marine store dealers, The shareholders are all in the work’us, And he sells pipe-lights in the Regent Circus. ’Twas told to me with much compunction, By one who had discharged with unction A Chairman of Director's function, _ On the North South East West Diddlesex junction, Fol diddle lol diddle lol lol lay ! [After song. 17zes. It’s very hard. As a man I am naturally of an easy disposition. As a manager, I am compelled to hold myself aloof, that my influence may not be deteriorated. As a man, I am inclined to fraternize with the pauper—as a manager I am compelled to walk about like this: Don’t know yah! Don’t know yah! Don’t know yah ! [Strides haughtily about the stage. J UrITER, MAns and ArOLLO, in full Olympian costume appear on the three broken columns. Thespians scream. Jupiter, Mars and Apollo (in recit.). Presumptuous mortal! Thes. (same business). Don’t know yah! Don’t know yah! THESPIS ; 012, THE cops GROWN OLD. 457 Jup. Mars and Apollo (seated on three broken pillars, still in recit.). Presumptuous mortal! . Thes. I do not know you, I do not know you. Jup., Mars and Apollo (standing on ground, recit.) Pre- sumptuous mortal! Thes. (recit.). Remove this person. [STUr. and Paar. seize ArOLL. and MARs. Jup. (speaking). Stop, you evidently don’t know me. Allow me to offer you my card. [Throws flash paper. Thes. Ah yes, it’s very pretty, but we don’t want any at present. When we do our Christmas piece I’ll let you know. (Changing his manner.) Look here, you know, this is a private party and we haven’t the pleasure of your acquaintance. There area good many other mountains about, if you must have ' a mountain all to yourself. Don’t make me let myself down before my company. (_Resuming.) Don’t know yah! Don’t know yah! Jup. I am Jupiter, the King of the Gods. This is Apollo. This is Mars. [All kneel to them emcept THESrIs. Thes. Oh! then as I’m a respectable man, and rather par- ticular about the company I keep, I think I’ll go. Jup. No-—no—stop a bit. We want to consult you on a matter of great importance. There! Now we are alone. Who are you ? Thes. Iam Thespis of the Thessalian Theatres. Jup. The very man we want. Now as a judge of what the public likes, are you impressed with my appearance as the father of the gods? Thes. Well to be candid with you, I am not. In fact I’m disappointed. Jup. Disappointed? Thes. Yes, you see you’re so much out of repair. No, you don’t come up to my idea of the part. Bless you, I’ve played you often. Jup. You have! Thes. To be sure I have. Jup. And how have you dressed the part? Thes. Fine commanding party in the prime of life. Thunder- bolt—ful1 beard—dignified manner—A good deal of this sort of thing “Don’t know yah! Don’t know yah! don’t know yah! " _ [Imitating, crosses L. Jup. (much afected). I—I’m very much obliged to you. It’s very good of you. I—I—I used to be like that. I can’t tell you how much I feel it. And do you find I’m an impressive character to play ? 458 ZZZESPIS, OA, ZZZZ GO/DS GROWM O/LD. Thes. Well no, I can’t say you are. In fact we don't use you much out of burlesque. Jup. Burlesque ! [Offended, walks up. Thes. Yes, it's a painful subject, drop it, drop it. The fact is, you are not the gods you were—you're behind your age. Jup. Well, but what are we to do? We feel that we ought to do something, but we don’t know what. Thes. Why don't you all go down to Earth, incog, mingle with the world, hear and see what people think of you, and judge for yourselves as to the best means to take to restore your influence? Jup. Ah, but what's to become of Olympus in the mean- time? Thes. Lor bless you, don't distress yourself about that. I’ve a very good company, used to take long "parts on the shortest notice. Invest us with your powers and we'll fill your places till you return. Jup. (aside). The offer is tempting. But suppose you fail? Thes. Fail! Oh, we never fail in our profession. We’ve nothing but great successes ! - Jup. Then it's a bargain? Thes. It's a bargain. [They shake hands on it. Jup. And that you may not be entirely without assistance, we will leave you Mercury, and whenever you find yourself in a difficulty you can consult him. Enter MERCURY (trap C.) QUARTETTE. Jup, So that's arranged—you take my place, my boy, While we make trial of a new existence. At length I shall be able to enjoy The pleasures I have envied from a distance. Mer. Compelled upon Olympus here to stop, While other gods go down to play the hero, Don't be surprised if on this mountain top You find your Mere down at zero! Ap. To earth away to nortal acts, And gather fre rials to write on, Investigate mo several facts, That I for ave thrown some light on 1. Dian. I, as them. with crescent bow, Have a a light to nightly scandal, I musts ke to go below, And game is worth the candle ! - THESPIS, OR, 7//E GODS GROWM OLD. 459 Enter all the Thespians, summoned by MERCURY. Mer. Here come your people ! Thes. People better now ! AIR.—THESPIs. While mighty Jove goes down below With all the other deities, I fill his place and wear his “clo,” The very part for me it is. To mother earth to make a track, They all are spurred and booted, too, And you will fill, till they come back, The parts you best are suited to. Chorus. Here's a pretty tale for future Iliads and Odyssies, Mortals are about to personate the gods and goddesses. Now to set the world in order, we will work in unity, Jupiter's perplexity is Thespis's opportunity. Chorus. Chorus, SoLo.—SPARKEION. Phoebus am I, with golden ray, The god of day, the god of day, When shadowy night has held her sway, I make the goddess fly. 'Tis mine the task to wake the world, In slumber curled, in slumber curled, By me her charms are all unfurled, The god of day am I? The god of day, the god of day, That part shall our Sparkeion play. Ha! ha ! &c. The rarest funland rarest fare, That ever fell to mortal share ! Ha! ha ! &c. SOLO.—NICEMIS. I am the moon, the lamp of night. I show a light—I show a light. With radiant sheen I put to flight The shadows of the sky. By my fair rays, as you're aware, Gay lovers swear—gay lovers swear, While greybeards sleep away their care, The lamp of night am II The lamp of night—the lamp of night, Nicemis plays, to her delight. Ha! ha ! ha I ha ! The rarest fun and rarest fare, That ever fell to mortal share. Ha ha ! ha ! ha ! ZAASPIS, OR, 7 HE GODS GROWN OLD. 461 ACT II. SCENE.—The same scene as in Act I., with the exception that in place of the ruins that filled the foreground of the stage, the interior of a magnificent temple is seen, showing the back- ground of the scene of Act I, through the columns of the Portico at the back. High throne L.U.E. Low seats below it. All the substitue gods and goddesses (that is to say, Thespians) are discovered grouped in picturesque attitudes about the stage, eating, drinking, and smoking, and singing the following verses — CHORUs. Of all symposia, The best by half, Upon Olympus, here, await us, We eat Ambrosia, And nectar quaff— It cheers but don't inebriate us. We know the fallacies Of human food, So please to pass Olympian rosy, We built up palaces, Where ruins stood, And find them much more snug and cosy. SoLo—SILLIMON. To work and think, my dear, Up here, would be, £ height of conscientious folly, So eat and drink, my dear, I like to see, Young people gay-young people jolly. Olympian food, my love, I'll lay long odds, Will please your lips—those rosy portals, What is the good, my love Of being gods, If we must work like common mortals? Chorus. Of all symposia, &c. [Exeunt all but NICEMIS, who is dressed as Dr. PRETTEIA, who is dressed as VENUS. T. SILLIMON's arm and bring him down. 462 THESPIS; OR, THE GODS_ GROI/VN OLD. Sillimon. Bless their little hearts, I can refuse them nothing. As the Olympian stage-manager I ought to be strict with them and make them do their duty, but I can’t. Bless their little hearts, when I see the prettylittle craft come sailing up to me with it wheedling smile on their pretty little figure-heads, I can’t turn my back on ’em. I'm all bow, though I’m sure I try to be stern ! P.rett. You certainly are a dear old thing! Sill. She says I’m a dear old thing! Deputy Vcnus says I'm a dear old thing ! Nice. It’s her'affectionate habit to describe everybody in those terms. I am more particular, but still even I am bound to admit that you are certainly a very dear old thing. Sill. Deputy Venus says I’m a dear old thing, and deputy Diana, who is much more particular, endorses it! Who could be severe with such deputy divinities? . Prett. Do you know, I’m going to ask you a favour. Sill. Venus is going to ask me a favour ! Prett. You see, I am Venus. Sill. N 0 one who saw your face would doubt it. Nice. (aside). No one who knew her character would. Prett. Well Venus, you know, is married to Mars. Sill. To Vulcan, my dear, to Vulcan. The exact connubial relation of the different gods and goddesses is a point on which we must be extremely particular. Prett. I beg your pardon—Venus is married to Mars. Nice. If she isn’t married to Mars, she ought to be. Sill. Then that decides it—call it married to Mars. Prett. Married to Vulcan or married to Mars, what does it signify ? Sill. My dear, it’s a matter on which I have no personal feeling whatever. Prett. So that she is married to some one! ’ Sill. Exactly! so that she is married to some one. Call it married to Mars. Prett. Now here‘s my difficulty. Presumptios takes the place of Mars, and Presumptios is my father! Sill. Then why object to Vulcan? Prett. Because Vulcan is my grandfather! Sill. But, my dear, what an objection! You are playing a part till the real gods return. That‘s all! Whether you are supposed to be married to your father—or your grandfather, what does it matter? This passion for realism is the curse of the stage! Prett. That’s all very well, but I can’t throw myself into a THESPIS; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. 463 part that has already lasted a twelvemonth, when I have to make love to my father. It interferes with my conception of the characters. It spoils the part. Sill. Well, well, I‘ll see what can be done. (Emit PRETTEIA L.U.E.) That's always the way with beginners, they’ve no imaginative power. A true artist ought to be superior to such considerations. (NICEMIS comes down R.) Well, Nicemis—I should say Diana—what’s wrong with you? Don’t you like your part? Nice. Oh, immensely! It’s great fun. Sill. Don’t you find it lonely out by yourself all night? Nice. Oh, but I’m not alone all night! Sill. But—I don’t want to ask any injudicious questions- but who accompanies you ? Nice. Who? why Sparkeion, of course. Sill. Sparkeion? Well, but Sparkeion is Phoebus Apollo. (Enter SrmEKaroE) Ho’s the Sun, you know. Nice. Of course he is; I should catch my death of cold, in the night air, if he didn’t accompany me. Sp. My dear Sillimon, it would never do for a young lady to be out alone all night. It wouldn't be respectable. Sill.. There's a good deal of truth in that. But still—the Sun-—at night—I don’t like the idea. The original Diana always went out alone. Nice. I hope the original Diana is no rule for me. After all, what does it matter '? _ Sill. To be sure—what does it matter? Sp. The sun at night, or in the daytime! Sill. So that he shines. '1‘hat’s all that’s necessary. (E-xit NICEMIS R.U.E.) But poor Daphne, what will she say to this? Sp. Oh, Daphne can console herself; young ladies soon get over this sort of thing. Did you never hear of the young lady who was engaged to Cousin Robin ? Sill. Never. Sp. Then I’ll sing it to you. So1~1o-SrAnKaron. Little maid of Arcadee Sat on Cousin Robin's knee, Thought in form and face and limb, Nobody could rival him. He was brave and she was fair. Truth, they made a pretty pair. Happy little maiden, she- Happy maid of Arcadee! 464 THESP1S; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. Moments fled as moments will Happily enough, until, After, say, a month or two, Robin did as Robins do. Weary of his lover’s play, Jilted her and went away. Wretched little maiden, she- Wretched maid of Arcadee l To her little home she crept, There she sat her down and wept, Maiden wept as maidens will- Grew so thin and pale—until Cousin Richard came to woo ! Then again the roses grew! Happy little maiden, she— Happy maid of Arcadee! [Emit SrAEKErou. Sill. Well, Mercury, my boy, you’ve had a year’s experience of us here. How do we do it? I think we’re rather an improve- ment on the original gods—don’t you ? Mer. Well, you see, there’s a good deal to be said on both sides of the question; you are certainly younger than the original gods, and, therefore, more active. they are certainly experience. £lH1'l1S8 ID8- Sono.—MnncUnr. Olympus is now in a terrible muddle, The deputy deities all are at fault ; They splutter and splash like a pig in a puddle, And dickens a one of ’em’s earning his salt. For Thespis as Jove is a terrible blunder, Too nervous and timid-—too easy and weak— Whenever he’s called on to lighten or thunder, The thought of it keeps him awake for a week ! Then mighty Mars hasn't the pluck of a parrot, When left in the dark he will quiver and quail ; And Vulcan has arms that would snap like a carrot, Before he could drive in a tenpenny nail ! Then Venus’s freckles are very repelling. And Venus should not have a squint in her eyes ; The learned Minerva is weak in her spelling, And scatters her 11's all over the skies. Then Pluto, in kindhearted tenderness erring, Can't make up his mind to let anyone die— The Times has a paragraph ever recurring, “ Remarkable instance of longevity.” On some it has come as a serious onus, T' others it’s quite an advantage-—in short, While ev’ry Life Office declares a big bonus, The poor undertakers are all in the court! On the other hand, older than you, and have, therefore, more On the whole I prefer you, because your mistakes THESPIS; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. 465 Then Cupid, the rascal, forgetting his trade is To make men and women impartially smart, Will only shoot at pretty young ladies, And never takes aim at a bachelor's heart. The results of this freak—or whatever you term it — Should cover the wicked young scamp with disgrace, While ev’r_v young mzn is as shy as a hermit, Young ladies are popping all over the place ! This wouldn’t much matteréfor bashful and shy men, When skilfully handled, are certainjto fall, But, alas ! that determined young bachelor Hymen Refuses to wed anybody at all ! He swears that Love’s flame is the vilest of arsons, And looks upon marriage as quite a mistake ; Now, what in the world’s to become of the parsons, And what of the artist who sugars the cake? In short, you will see from the facts that I’m showing, The state of the case is exceedingly sad; ' If Thespis’s people go on as they’re going, Olympus will certainly go to the bad ! From Jupiter downwards there isn't a dab in it, All of ’em uibble and sheff’e and shirk ; A premier in owning Street, forming a Cabinet, Couldn't find people less fit for their work ! Enter TuEsrIS, L.U.E. Thes. Sillimon, you can retire. Sill. Sir, I— The:. Don't pretend you can’t when I say you can. I’ve seen you do it—go! (Emit SILLIMON bowing emtmvagantly, THESrIS imitates him.) Well, Mercury, I’ve been in power one year to-day. Mer. One year to-day. How do you like ruling the world ? Thee. Like it ! Why it’s as straightforward as possible. Why there hasn’t been a hitch of any kind since we came up here. Lor! The airs you gods and goddesses give yourselves are perfectly sickening. Why it’s more child’s play l Mer. Very simple, isn’t it ? Thes. Simple? Why I could do it on my head ? Mer. Ah—I daresay you will do it on your head very soon. T/ms. What do you mean by that, Mercury? Mer. I mean that when you’ve turned the world quite topsy- turvey you won’t know whether you’re standing on your head or your heels. Thes. Well, but, Mercury, it’s all right at present. 2 H --r- ;__,; -w,..__ 466 THESPIS; 0R,‘T./{E 00125 Gkotfilfivfitii‘ Mer. Oh yes—as far as we know. . . .1-. . Thes. Well, but, you know, we know as much‘ as anybody knows; you know_, Ibelieve, that"the worl_d’s still going on. Zller. Yes—as far as we can judge/—_n_1uch as usual. . Thes. Well, then, give the Father of the Drama his due, Mercury. Don’t be envious of the father of the Drama. Thes. Well, but you see you leave so much to accident. Mer. Well, Mercury, if I do, it’s my principle. I am an easy man, and I like to make things as pleasant as possible. \Vhat did I do the day we took office ? Why I called the company together and I said to them: “ Here we are, you know, gods and goddesses, no mistake about it, the real thing. Well, we have certain duties to discharge, let’s discharge them .intelligently. Don’t let us be hampered by routine and red tape and pre- cedent, let’s set the original gods an example, and put a liberal interpretation on our duties. If it occurs to any one to try an experiment in hisown department, let him try it, if he fails there’s no harm done, if he succeeds it is a distinct gain to society. Take it easy,” I said, “and at the same time, make experiments. Don’t hurry your work, do it slowly, and do it well.” And here we are after atwelvemonth, and not a single complaint or a single petition has reached me. Jller. No—not yet. _ Thes. What do you mean by “ no, not yet” ? Mer. Well, you see, you don’t understand these things. All the petitions that are addressed by men to Jupiter pass through my hands, and it’s my duty to collect them and present them once a year. . fllzes. Oh, only once a year ? . Jller. Only once a year. Thes. And the year is up+? ' Mer. '1‘o-day. _ Thes. Oh, then I suppose there are some complaints?- Mer. Yes, there are some. ' . ‘ Thes. (disturbed). Oh. Perhaps there are a good many .9 Mer. There are a good many. Thes. Oh. Perhaps there are a thundering lot? Mer. There are a thundering lot. Thes. (very much. disturbed). Oh .l . Mer. You see you’ve been taking it so very easy—andi sir have most of your company. ‘ Thes. Oh, who has been taking it easy 9 " Mir. Well, all except those who ‘have been trying experii men s. _ Thes. Well but I suppose the experiments are ingenious“?' THESPIS ; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. 467 Mer. Yes; they are ingenious, but on the whole ill-judged. But it’s time to go and summon your court. Thes. What for? Mer. To hear the complaints. In five minutes they will be here. [Exit. Thes. (very uneasy). I don’t know how it is, but there is something in that young man’s manner that suggests that the Father of the Gods has been taking it too easy. Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn’t given my company so much scope. I wonder what they’ve been doing. I think I will curtail their discretion, though none of them appear to have much of the article. It seems a pity to deprive ’em of what little they have. . Enter DArHNE, weeping. Thes. Now then, Daphne, wha’’ the matter with you? Daphne. Well, you know how disgracefully Sparkeion—- —- Thes. (correcting her). Apollo Daphne. Apollo, then—has treated me. He promised to marry me years ago, and now he’s married to Nicemis. Thes. Now look here. I can’t go into that. You’re in Olympus now and must behave accordingly. Drop your Daphne—assume your Calliope. Dap. Quite so. That’s it! [Mysteriously. Thes. Oh-—that is it? [Puzzled Dap. That is it, Thespis. I am Calliope, the Muse of Fame. Very good. This morning I was in the Olympian library, and I took down the only book there. Here it is. Thes. (taking it). Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary. The Olympian Peerage. Dap. Open it at Apollo. Thes. (lppegis it). It is done. Dap. a . Thes. “Apollo was several times married, among others to Issa, Boliua, Coronis, Chymene, Cyrene, Chione, Acacallis, and Calliope.” Dap. And Calliope. Thes. (musing). Ha ! I didn’t know he was married to them. Dap. (severely). Sir! This is the Family Edition. Thes. Quite so. Dap. You couldn’t expect a lady to read any other ? Thes. On no consideration. But in the original version—— Dap. I go by the Family Edition. Thes. Then by the Family Edition, Apollo is your husband. . '*rn— ‘C 1aJ_';"- 468 THESPIS; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. Enter NrcEMIS and SmsKEroE. ' Nice. Apollo your husband? He is my husband. Dap. I-beg your pardon. He is my husband. Nice. Apollo is Sparkeion, and he’s married to me. Dap. Sparkeion is Apollo, and he’s married to me. Nice. He’s my husband. Dap He’s your brother. _ flies. Look here, ‘Apollo, whose husband are you? Don’t let’s have any row about it; whose husband are you? Sp. Upon my honour I don’t know. I’m in a very delicate position, but I‘ll fall in with any arrangement Thespis may propose. Dap. I’ve just found out that he’s my husband, and yet he goes out every evening with that “thing” ! Thes. Perhaps he’s trying an experiment. Dap. I don’t like my husband to make such experiments. The question is, who are we all and what is our relation to each other. _ QUARTETTEc Sp. You’re Diana, I’m Apollo— And Calliope is she. Dap. He’s you’re brother. Nice. You’re another. He has fairly married me, Dap. By the rules of this fair spot I’m his wife, and you are not- Sp. and Dap. By the rules of this fair spot, 13:11.8} his wife, and you are not. Nice. By this golden wedding ring, I’m his wife, and you‘re a “ thing." Dap., Nice, and Sp. Ey this golden wedding ring, Stands} his wife, and you’re a “ thing.” All. Please will some one kindly tell us, Who are our respective kin? All of {slim } are very jealous, Neither of { ghsem will give in. Nice. He’s my husband I declare, I espoused him properlee. Sp. That is true, for I was there, And I szw her marry me. Dap. He’s you're brother-—I’m his wife, If we go by Lempriére, Sp. So she is, upon my life, _ Really that seems very fair. N"-‘h You’re my husband and no other. 470 THESPIS; on, THE cons GROWN OLD. Jup. What did we leave you behindfor ? Mer. Please sir that’s the question I asked for when you went away. Jup. Was it not that Thespis might consult you whenever he was in a difficulty ? Mer. Well, here l’ve been, ready to be consulted, chockful of reliable information—running over with celestial maxims-— advice gratis ten to four—after twelve ring the night bell in cases of emergency. Jup. And hasn’t he consulted you ? Mer Not he—he disagrees with me about everything. Jup. He must have misunderstood me. I told him to consult you whenever he was in a fix. _ Mer. He must have thought you said insult. Why when- ever I opened my mouth he jumps down my throat. It isn’t pleasant to have a fellow constantly jumping down your throat —especially when he always disagrees with you. It’s just the sort of thing I can’t digest. Jnp. (in a rage). Send him here l’ll talk to him. Enter TEEsrIS. He is much terrified. Jup. (recit.). O11 Monster! Ap. (recit.). Oh Monster! Jllars (recit.). Oh Monster! TnEsrIS sings in great terror, which he endeavours to conceal. Jug). Well Sir, the year is up to-day. Ap. And a nice mess you’ve made of it. Mars. You’ve deranged the whole scheme of society. Thes. (aside) There’s going to be a row! (Aloud and very familiarly.) My dear boy—I do assure you-—- Jup. (in recit.). Be respectful! Ap. (in recit.). Be respectful! Mars (in recit.). Be respectful! Thes. I don’t know what you allude to. With the exception of getting our scene-painter to “run up” this temple, because we found the ruins draughty, we haven’t touched a thing. Jup. (in recit.). Oh story teller! Ap. (in recit.). Oh story teller! Mars (in recit.). Oh story teller! Enter TnEsrrAss. I/zes. My dear fellows, you’re distressing yourselves unneces- sarily. The court of Olympus is about to assemble to listen to the complaints of the year, if any. But there are none, or next to none. Let the Olympians assemble! THESPIS; on, THE 000$ GROWN 01.0. 471 Enter Tmasruus. [Tunsris la]..es chair. J Ur., Ar. and MasA sit below him. Thea. Ladies and gentlemen. It seems that it is usual for the gods to assemble once a year to listen to mortal petitions. It doesn’t seem to me to be a good plan, as work is liable to accumulate; but as I’m particularly anxious not to interfere with Olympian precedent, but to allow everything to go on as it has alway been accustomed to go—why, we’ll say no more about it. (Aside) But how shall I account for your presence? Jup. Say we are gentlemen of the press. Thea. That all our proceedings may be perfectly open and above-board I have communicated with the most influential members of the Athenian press, and I beg to introduce to your notice three of its most distinguished members. They bear marks emblematic of the anonymous character of modern journalism. (Business of introdewtiun. THESrIS very uneasy.) Now then, if you’re all ready we will begin. Mer. (brings tremendous bundles of petitions). Here is the agenda. . T/res. What’s that. The petitions ? Mer. Some of them. (0pens one and reads.) Ah, I thought- there’d be a row about it. Thea. Why, what’s wrong now ? Mer. Why, it’s been a foggy Friday in November for the last six months and the Athenians are tired of it. Thes. There’s no pleasing some people. This craving for perpetual change is the curse of the country. Friday’s .' very nice day. Mer. So it is, but a Friday six months long !—it gets monotonous. Jnp., A12. and Mars (in recit. rising.) It’s perfectly ridiculous. Ibes. (calling them). It shall be arranged. Cymon ! Cymon (as Time with the usual attributes). Sir! Thes. (introducing him to Three Gods). Allow me-—Father Time—rather young at present but even Time must have a beginning. In course of Time, Time will grow older. Now then,Father Time, what’s this about a wet Friday in November for the last six months? Cym. Well, the fact is, l’ve been trying an experiment. Seven days in the week is an awkward number. It can’t be halved. Two’s into seven won’t go. Thes. (tries it on his fingers). Quite so—quite so. Cym. So I abolished Saturday. 472 THL‘SP1S; 01?, THE cops GROWN OLD. Jup., A10. and Mars. Oh but— — [Rising Tires. Do be quiet. He’s a very intelligent young man and knows what he is about. So you abolished Saturday. And how did you find it answer? Gym. Admirably. T/zes. You hear ? He found it answer admirably. Gym. Yes, only Sunday refused to take its place. Thes. Sunday refused to take its place ? . Cym. Sunday comes after Saturday—Sunday won’t go on duty after Friday, Sunday’s principles are very strict. That’s where my experiment sticks. T hes. Well, but why November ? come, why November? Cym. December ean’t begin till November has finished. November can’t finish because he’s abolished Saturday. There again my experiment sticks. Thes. Well, but why wet? Come now, why wet? Cym. Ah, that is your fault. You turned on the rain six months ago, and you forgot to turn it off again. Jup., Mars and Ap. (rvising-—radiative). Oh this is monstrous! All. Order, order. Th.es. Gentlemen, pray be seated. To the others.) The liberty of the press, one can’t help it. (Tot c three gods.) It is easily settled. Athens has had a wet Friday in November for the last six months. Let them have a blazing Tuesday in July for the next twelve. Jup., Mars and A10. But——- All. Order, order. Thes. Now then, the next article. Mer. Here's a petition from the Peace Society. They com- plain that there are no more battles. _ Mars (springing up). What! T/zes. Quiet there ! Good dog—soho; Timidon ! Tim (as MARs). Here. Thes. What’s this about there being no battles ? Tim. I’ve abolished battles; it’s an experiment. Mars (spz"in_(]’i'r1g up). Oh come, I say ’I7ws. Quiet then! (To TIM.) Abolished battles? Tim. Yes, you told us on taking office to remember two things, to try experiments and to take it easy. I found I coulcn’t take it easy while there are any battles to attend to, soI tried the experiment and abolished battles. And then I took it easy. The Peace Society Ought to be very much obliged to me. ' Thes. Obliged to you! Why, confound it ! since battles have been abolished war is universal. . THESPIS; OR, THE GODS GROWN OLD. 473 Tim. War universal? Thes. To be sure it is! Now that nations can't fight, no two of ’em are on speaking terms. The dread of fighting was the only thing that kept them civil to each other. Let battles be restored and peace reign upreme. Mer. (reads). Here’s a petition from the associated wine merchants of Mytilene. Thes. Well, what’s wrong with the associated wine merchants of Mytilene ? Are there no grapes this year? Mer. Plenty of grapes; more than usual. Thes. (to the gods). You observe, there is no deception; there are more than usual. Mer. There are plenty of grapes, only they are full of ginger beer. Three Gods. Oh, come I say. [Rising, they are put down by THESrIS. Thes. Eh? what. (Much alarmed.) Bacchus? Tips. (as BAocnos). Here! Thes. There seems to be something unusual with the grapes of Mytilene; they only grow ginger beer. Tips. And a very good thing too. Thes. It’s very nice in it's way, but it is not what one looks for from grapes. Tips. Beloved master, a week before we came up here, you insisted on my taking the pledge. By so doing you rescued me from my otherwise inevitable misery. I cannot express my thanks. Embrace me l [Attempts to embrace him. Thes. Get out, don’t be a fool. Look here, you know you’re the god of wine. Tips. I am. Thes. (very angry.) Well, do you consider it consistent with your duty as the god of wine to make the grapes yield nothing but ginger beer? Tips. Do you consider it consistent with my duty as a total abstainer, to grow anything stronger than ginger beer? T/zes. But your duty as the god of wine— — Tips. In every respect in which my duty as the god of wine can be discharged consistently with my duty as a total . abstainer, I will discharge it. But when the functions clash, everything must give way to the pledge. My preserver ! [Attempts to embrace him. Thes. Don’t be a confounded fool! This can be arranged. We can’t give over the wine this year, but at least we can improve the ginger beer. Let all the ginger beer be extracted from it imn1ediately. 474 TIJESPIS; OR, Y'HE GODS GROWN OLD. Jup., Maw's., Ap. (aside). We can’t stand this, We can’t stand this, It's much too strong, We can’t stand this. It would be wrong, Extremely wrong, If we stood this, If we stand this, If we stand this, We can’t stand this. - Dap., Sparkx, Nice. Great Jove, this interference, Is more than we can stand ; Of them make a clearance, With your majestic hand. Jove. This cool audacity, it beats us hollow (removing mask) I’|n Jupiter ! Mars. I'm Mars ! Ap. I'm Apollo! Enter DIANA and all the other gods and goddesses. All. (kneeling with theirléoz-eheads on the ground). Jupiter, are and Apollo, Have quilted the dwellings of men; The other gods quickly will follow, And what will become of us then. Oh, pardon us, Jove and Apollo, Pardon us, Jupiter, Mars; Oh, see us in misery wallow, Cursing our terrible stars. Enter other gods. ~CHOR.US AND BALLET. All the Thespians. Let us remain, we beg of you pleadiugly ! Three Gods. Let them remain, they beg of us pleadingly ! Thea. Life on Olympus suits us exceedingly. Gods. Life on Olympus suits them exceedingly. Thea. Let us remain, we pray in humility!- Gods. Let ’em remain, they pray in humility. Thea. . If we have shown some little ability. Gods. If they have shown som_e little ability. Let us remain, etc. Jupiter. Enough, your reign is ended ; Upon this sacred hill Let him be apprehended, And learn our awful will. Away to earth, contemptible comedians, And hear our curse, before we set you free ; You shall all be eminent tragedians, Whom no one ever goes to see! All. We go to earth, contemptible comedians, We hear his curse before he sets us free, We shall all he eminent tragedians, Whom no one ever ever goes to see ! -1.! 5-‘lI. . . . . .