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^^ E P ILOGUE . 
 
 
 
 Spoken by 
 
 IIkr Exckllkncv Tnic Countess of Dufi-ertn, 
 
 At the last performance. 
 
 Kind fritiids ! for siuh indeed you've proved to us- 
 Kinder ihan jusi I fear — aiui is it thus 
 Tluti ive must quit you, ^ Shall the eurtain fall 
 O'er this bright pageant like a funeral pall, 
 And blot forever from your friendly sight 
 The zvell-knoivn forms and faces that to-night 
 For the last time have used their mimic arts 
 To tempt your laughter, and to touch your hearts, 
 Without one word of thanks to let you knoiv 
 Hozv irredeemable 's the debt we owe. 
 For that icarm zoe Iconic, ivhich year after year 
 Has ivaited on our poor attempts to cheer 
 With the gay humour of these trivial pt ays 
 Some few hours stolen from your busy days ? 
 Despite ourselves, the grateful luords WILL come, 
 For love could teach a language to the dumb. 
 ' Tis just one lustre, since — a tyro band — 
 On paltry farce -we tried our prentice hand, 
 Treading at first a less pretentious stage 
 E'en that the goatherds of the Thespian age ; 
 
r 
 
 'ilhoul a curtain ;— for each slip — a screen ; — 
 lii/e bedroom candles light the meagre scene. 
 id soon embcddencd l^y our Public s smile, 
 tir Muse attempts a more ambitious style ; 
 Tilli Y^qwmW'AC parades her stately grace,— 
 Our Win:" declares two huslmtuls out of place,— 
 'o "School" ivc soul you, and — a sight too rare — 
 'how you for once, a really "IlAPrv Pair," 
 'hen hai'ing warned your daughters not "To Li'-ND " 
 Their only " LoviCK " to a Lady friend, — 
 Ve 7iext the fatal ''^iiiw ok Pai'hk" burn, 
 \ud follow with "O.VK HorK," — " J Aci^rKs, "--/// turn, 
 Si;mii;.\m!<," ^? Debutantes " Fir t Ni(iiiT," — 
 Vinging at each essay a loftier flight, 
 ntil lit last a bumper house we drezc 
 VitJi the J ne I odious "Mayor ok Si; IIrmi \ !" 
 'hese our achievenuiits -but ive gladly 07i'n 
 'he praise, if praise be due, is half your oivn 
 'zvas your encouragement that nerved our wits, 
 injured hysterics, sulks, tears, fainting fits. 
 You taught our '' Ing'nues'' those airs serene. 
 These bins J ling Sirs to drop their b.ishful mein, — 
 Wherefore commissioned am I to conu to-day 
 ur hearts and laurels at your feet to lay. 
 hid yet my task is only half fulfilled ~ 
 rot hers and sisters of Thalia s guild rvn the. actors) 
 W hove faced with me the critic s glittering eye 
 hid dared the terrors of yon gallery. 
 Who've lightened ati my labour with your love 
 And made each effort a new pleasure pro7>e, 
 
■1 ! 
 
 If uH)nis could thank yon for your generous aid 
 These lips should bankrupt be to see yon paid, 
 And oh ! believe as long as life endures 
 The best affeetions of my heart are yours. 
 And uoiv one last luireioell, a feiv months more 
 And loe depart your loved Canadian shore, 
 Never again to hear your plaudits rise, 
 Nor zoateh the ready laughter in your eyes 
 Gleam out fcsponsiue to our author s zuit, 
 However poorly zve interpret it, 
 Nor sec zvith artist pride your tears ocrfloiv. 
 In homage to our simulated woe. 
 Yet scenes like these can never wholly fade 
 Into oblivion's melancholy shade, 
 And oft at home zohen Christmas fire- logs burn 
 Our pensive thoughts instinctively loill turn 
 To this fair city ivith her croirii of towers 
 And all the joys and friends that once ivcrc ours, 
 And oft shall yearning Fancy fondly fill 
 This hall ivith guests, and conjure up at zvill 
 Each dear familiar face, each kindly ivord 
 Of praise, that e'er our player souls hath stirred, 
 Till 'neatJi the melting spell of memory 
 Our love flozvs back toivards you like a sea ; — 
 For kfioiu - zvhatever zvay our fortunes turn -- 
 Upon the altars of our hearts shall burn 
 Those votive fires no fuel need renezv, 
 Our prayers for blessings on your land and yon. 
 
 iT' 
 
 the 
 amlii'tn 
 
 1. 
 
 Jtli April, 1878. 
 
 D. 
 
, (Ti'thr 
 
 itiiiliitii 
 
 Decern bcf 2ird, 
 
 CONCERT COSTUME. 
 
 a!iY)(ji'aw(«(^. 
 
 1. DUO ., 
 
 2. SOLO .. 
 
 \^. DUO 
 
 4. SOI.O .. 
 h. SOLO 
 
 . " fiU ci (liirviii la niiiiio," .. 
 Miss. Adki.k K immi:k. 
 Mil. H. K. Ki.MiiKK. 
 
 • • •• •• •• •• « 
 
 Mks. HruKiTT. 
 
 From *' La Fillc du Il''\<;iTiu'iit," 
 Mm-k. Lki'ikiiion. 
 
 ** •• •• •• •• 
 
 " LuriTo al Factotum," 
 Ii, Barhikri:. 
 
 Mh. li. K. Kl.MHKR. 
 
 Mozart. 
 
 Dnxizeffi. 
 
 • • • • 
 
 . linnshii. 
 
 L SOLOS AKD CJIORUS from "La Dame Jilanche." fiokldieii. 
 
 1. An! Ql'ki, ii.Aisiu i/ftiKK soi.UAT Mr. Hliiiii do St. Anbin. 
 
 2. U'iCI VOYEZ CE BKAU DOMAINK .. M. tlo (i6lilias. 
 
 3. Jk n'y j'l'is uiEN- ('<iMi'hKNDUE..Mlk'. flfeliiiiis, Mr Kimlior, Mr. B. de St. Aubiii. 
 
 Chokus.— Mrs. Pcrcivid Slicppard, Miss L. ColVm, Miss Dewe, Mis.s Ii Stanton, 
 Madllo. Kiniber, Miss A. KimluT, Mile. U. KiiiibtT, Mr. Blniu de St. 
 Aiibin, Mr. U. E. Kiiiibor, Mr N. Mi-l.taii. 
 
 2. SOLO 
 
 iMiss Clarkk. 
 
 3. DUO .. " Voici L'Hc'ure," Don Pa.«qnaIo, . . Donizetti. 
 
 Madllk. Gklixas. 
 Mr. R. Kimrkr. 
 
 4. DUO .. " Quanto amoro," Elixir <l'anioro, .. Donizetti. 
 
 Mrs. Walters. 
 Mr. [{. Fi. KiMRKR. 
 
 5. CANADIAN BOAT SONGS 
 
 By au, the Amateurs, 
 
187:3. 
 
 SI 
 
 March i^th & April 2nd. 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 MR. BENSON Col. Stuart. 
 
 MR. TROTTER SOUTHDOWN .. E. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 MR. JOHN MEREDITH ,. F. Coulsox, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 MRS. BENSON Miss A. Hlmswoiith. 
 
 MRS. TROTTER SOUTHDOWN .. .. Mas. Stiakt. 
 
 March igih & 26th. 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 ACHH.LE DUFARD 
 HON. IJERTIE FJTZDANGLE 
 HYACINTH PARNASSUS 
 THEOPHILUS VAMP.. 
 TIMOTHEUS FLAT 
 
 GEORGE 
 
 ROSE DUFARD 
 
 MISS ARABELLA FITZJAMES 
 
 E. KiMUKii, Esq. 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 St. Denis LkMoink, Esq. 
 
 W. HiMswoRi'ii, Esq. 
 
 .. R. E. KiMBKR, Esq. 
 
 . . Master Harry Stuart. 
 
 .. Miss Adelk Kimbkr. 
 
 Mrs. Stuart. 
 
^tv7n. 
 
 '>r// 21 id. 
 
 \. Stuart. 
 i., A.D.C. 
 li., A.D.C. 
 
 IMSWORTH. 
 ^. SriAltT. 
 
 ')ih. 
 
 ., A.D.C. 
 NE, Esq. 
 |rii, Esq. 
 :r, Esq. 
 IStuart. 
 
 KiMHER. 
 h'l'ART. 
 
 April '^th & I 5///. 
 SELECTIONS FROM SEMIRAMIDE. 
 
 SEMIllAMIS .. 
 
 AZEMA 
 
 ARSACE 
 
 ASSUR 
 
 CM OR LIS OF ) 
 
 ATTENDANTS)' 
 
 NUBIANS 
 
 Mrs. EVANTTREI.. 
 Miss AdKLE Kl.MHER. 
 
 N. McLean, Esq. 
 
 E. KlMBER, Esq. 
 
 (Mr.«. p. Siieppard, Miss Feu.owes, 
 ( Miss Kixcsford, Miss Kimuer. 
 
 C. Weatherlv, Esq., F. Macdonai.d, Esq. 
 
 ONE HOUR 
 
 JULTA DALTOX .. 
 
 MRS. HEVIL 
 
 F.\XNY 
 
 MR. CHAS. SWIFTLY 
 
 O'LEARY 
 
 IL E. The Countess or Dufferin. 
 
 .. Miss lIlMSWOUTH. 
 
 .. Miss A. HiMswoRTii. 
 
 .. Capt.F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 .. F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 April 22nd & 29///. 
 
 MONSIEUR JACOUES. 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES 
 MR. SEQUENCE .. 
 
 VIVID 
 
 ANTONIO .. 
 
 NINA 
 
 E. FiMMER, Esq. 
 
 Col. Stuart. 
 
 J. Derryshire. 
 
 N. McLean. 
 
 Miss AdELE KlMUKR. 
 
 THE DOWAGER, 
 
 DOW.XGER COUNTESS ) 
 
 OF TRESILLIAN I 
 LADY BLOOMER 
 MARGARET BEAUCHAMP 
 LORD ALFRED LINDSAY 
 Sill FiJEDK. CHASEMOiiE 
 EDGAR BEAUCHAMP 
 
 H. E. The Countess of Djfferin', 
 
 Miss Feliowes. 
 
 .. Miss A. Himsworth. 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 (\\PT. F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 E. KiMKKit, Esq. 
 
1875. 
 
 February iSt/i & 2^th. 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 ADMIRAL KlXGtSTON .. 
 LIEUTENANT KINGSTON 
 SHORT .. 
 
 DENNI8 .. ♦ .. 
 
 MRS. PONTIFEX.. 
 MISS MORTIMER 
 
 E. KiMBER, Esq. 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 Cait. Featherstonhaugh. R.E. 
 
 C. Bhodie, Esq. 
 
 Mrs, St r art. 
 
 Mis.s Fellowe-s. 
 
 WOOING ONE'S WIFE. 
 
 MAJOR KARL VON WALSTEIN 
 liAIiON MULDORF 
 COUNT MUFFEN HANSEN .. 
 BARONESS MULDORF.. 
 GERTRUDE 
 
 .- Gait. F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 Col. Sti'art. 
 
 F. Hamilton-, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 Mrs. Stuart. 
 
 . . Misa Hamilton. 
 
 March \%ih & ^ist, 
 THE MAYOR OF ST. BRIEUX. 
 
 (AN OPERETTA.) 
 Coiiiitoscd for Her Kxeolleiir.v Tlio f ountcss of Dufferlii's Private Theatricals 
 
 Ky F. W. Mills, KHq. ' 
 
 Libretto by - - F. Dixon, Fsq. 
 
 COMTESSE DE BEAUDRY Mrs. Anolin. 
 
 ^'^^'^ • Mis.s Ad6le Kimheh. 
 
 THE MAYOR OF ST. BRIEUX e. K.mber, Esq 
 
 CHARLES DUVAL J. H. Plummer, Esq. 
 
 MONSIEUR BOUILLET E. Gi:.ora.s. Esq. 
 
 ^'•''•^'^'^^ •• • P. B. Douglas, Esq. 
 
 GENDARME C. Brod.e. Esq. 
 
 CHORUS OF PE.VSANTS, BLACIvSMITHS, &c. : 
 
 Mrs. SnEi'i'ARD. j. Cunmnoiiam Stewart, Esq. 
 
 Mils. Pore,st. w. A. Blackmore, Es.j. ' 
 
 Mrs. More. p. jJorr, Esq. 
 
 Mrs. CoRBETr. n. (j. Dunlevie, Esq. 
 
 Miss Powell. g. Cochrane, Esq. 
 
 Miss Fellowes. w. R. Major, Estj. 
 
 Miss Thompson. Sidney Smith, Esq. 
 Mi.ss Poet PER. 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 MRS. FELIX SUMMERLY .. 
 MR. FELIX SUMMERLY.. 
 THEIR JEWEL OF A SERVANT 
 THEIR RESPECTED PARENT 
 
 Mrs Stuart. 
 
 Capt. F. Ward, A D.C 
 
 Miss. K. Hamilton. 
 
 C. Brodie. Esq. 
 
^lam 
 
 Aih. 
 
 IMBER, Esq. 
 KsQ., A.D.C. 
 lAUGH, R.E. 
 
 5rodie, Esq. 
 
 ris. Sti-art. 
 
 Fellowes. 
 
 RD, A.D.C. 
 
 >L. SriTART. 
 
 ■^Q., A.D.C. 
 w. Stuart. 
 Hamilton, 
 
 X. 
 
 entilcals, 
 
 Anoi.in-. 
 
 KlMBKK. 
 
 :", Esg. 
 
 i«, Esq. 
 ^S, E;<y. 
 E, Esq. 
 
 Esq. 
 
 laTO. 
 
 JACK POYNTZ 
 
 BEAN FARINTOSH 
 
 MR. KRUX 
 
 DR. SUTCLIFFE .. 
 
 LORD BEAUFOY 
 
 NAOMI TIGIIE 
 
 BELLA 
 
 MRS. SUTCLIFFE . 
 
 LAURA .. 
 
 TILLY .- 
 
 MILLY .. 
 
 CLARA 
 
 KITTY 
 
 FANNY 
 
 HETTY 
 
 March 2<^th and April 8///. 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 E. KiMBER, Esq. 
 
 C. Brodie, E<y. 
 
 Col. The Hon. E. G. P. Littleton. 
 
 Capt. F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 11. E. The Countess of Dufferin. 
 
 Miss Stanton. 
 
 . . Mrs. Stuart. 
 
 Hon. xMrs. Littleton. 
 
 Miss Lemoine. 
 
 Miss A. Himsworth. 
 
 Miss Hi.msworth. 
 
 Lady Helen Blackwood. 
 
 Viscount Clandeboye. 
 
 Hon. Terence Blackwood. 
 
 A HAPPY PAIR. 
 MRS. HONEYTON .. H.E . The Countess of Dufferin. 
 
 MR. HONEYTON 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 ART. 
 
 roN. 
 
 Ny. 
 
.™i.,':°^^ °'^ A LOVER. 
 
 ^'Al»T. AAJEHSFOKT 
 ^i^^r^U 8PYK 
 
 •MissAdeleKimueh. 
 
 (^^c>L. Uo.v. E. G. P. L,Tr.ET0N-. 
 •• ''^- ^^''MHicu, Esq. 
 N McLean, Esq. 
 C BnooiE, Esq. 
 
 rr: 
 
 OUR WIFE 
 '^^AUQHS DE UCNY 
 
 COUNT DE BKLS.SAC *" " ' "'''"^'''^^''^'' ^sq, A.D.C. 
 
 i'OMARET .. ■■ •• ^^''^'•^- ^Vari),A.D.C. 
 
 DUMOxVT.. .. " " •• •• E. Klmber, Esq. 
 
 MUSKETEEB *" '" '* •' <-'■ ^»odie. Esq 
 
 liOSim: .. . " "u r'rr " ^'- ^^^''^'^^A.v, Esq. 
 
 AJAKIETTE .. . *' " "^"^ ^"^•^^•'J'*-'«s of Duffeuin. 
 
 •• ^^^^«8 A. HiAisWORTU.' 
 
 A SCRAP OF PAPPo ' 
 
 i^HOSPEU COLIKAMO.VT p .f"^^' 
 
 BARON DE LA GLACmjE '* ^^^'^^^^^^^^^ K.^Q. A.D.C. 
 
 i^KrSEMOUCHE " ^■''''- ^'- ^^ahd, A.D.C. 
 
 AxVATOLE .. " " •• •• C-i^RoDiE^EsQ. 
 
 B A PTISTE . . " * * • • •' ^- KiMBEK, Esq. 
 
 ^^^^^- SL^ZANNE DE KUSEvIll'e'''' "''"' ^''™^ ^^•^•C- 
 
 LOf/iSE DE LA G ACfFRE^' '"' ^^''''''^ '^ ^^■^'^•^'«^-. 
 
 AUTHILDE .. ^ ' •• •• MissStam-ox. 
 
 MLLE. ZENOIilE .. *" " '" ^^''' ^"'^'•'•^ Kimber. 
 *' 'ME DLJPONT '■ ''^^'^'^- Stuart. 
 
 ^ -f^INE .. ■■ •• •• MissLemoixe 
 
 •• •• ^^''^« A. HiMSHoRTH. 
 

 1878. 
 
 
 
 
 April 
 
 2mi & 5///. 
 
 NEW MEN 
 
 AND 
 
 OLD 
 
 ACRES. 
 
 MARMADUKE VAVASOUR .. 
 
 .. 
 
 Col. Stuart. 
 
 -^SAMUEL BROWN .. 
 
 • • 
 
 .. Cai>t. 
 
 F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 BERTIE FITZ-URSE 
 
 
 . F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 MR. BUNTER .. 
 
 • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 C. Brodie, Esq. 
 
 BERTHOLD BLASENBALG . 
 
 • • » 
 
 E. KiMBER, Esq. 
 
 SECKER 
 
 • • • 
 
 Capt. Sel 
 
 BY Smyth, A.D C. 
 
 GANTRY 
 
 
 .. G 
 
 . R. Major, Esq. 
 
 LILIAN VAVASOUR . 
 
 . H.E. 
 
 ThK COI'NTESS OF DUFFERIX. 
 
 LADY MATILDA VAVASOUR 
 
 
 . M188 Stanton. 
 
 MRS. BUNTER 
 
 
 . . 
 
 Mrs. Lemoine. 
 
 FANNY BUNTER.. 
 
 • • • • 
 
 « • 
 
 . .Miss Fellowes. 
 
 MRS. BRILL .. 
 
 • • 
 
 . . 
 
 Miss Lemoine. 
 
 » 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 • 
 
 MR. HARRY SPREADBROW . 
 
 F. Hamilton, Esq., A.D.C. 
 
 WILCOX 
 
 • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 E. KiMBER, Esq. 
 
 MISS JENNIE NORTHCOTE 
 
 
 
 
 H.E. 
 
 The Countess of Dufferix. 
 
 RUTH 
 
 • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 Miss Cockburx. 
 
 DLBlMi STATlO.NERg, OTTAWA. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON, 
 
 % ® omeDf ett 8 
 
 .. * '■ 
 
 IN ONE ACT. 
 
 /JIAPTEV VROU THB VRENCH VAUDEVILLR, 
 
 "UN SERVICE A BLANCHARD'* 
 
 BT 
 
 TOM TAYLOR. 
 
 JLuthor of A Trip to Kissprtgen, Diogenes and his Lmfern, T hf 
 
 Phihsopher^s Stone, The Vicar of Wakefield. To Parent* 
 
 'jnd Guardians^ Our Clerks, Little Red Riding Hood, 
 
 ife.y 4*<?«; ond one of the Authors of Masks and 
 
 faces. Pint and Passion, Slave IJfe, l.'wo 
 
 .Locis Olid a d^ije, (f-c, i\'e,. S'3 
 
 London r 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 89. STRAND. 
 
 New York: 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 PUBLIStrntS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREtir. 
 
Tirtt performed ai the Koyal Olympic Theatre, on Mondaf, 
 
 March 6, 1854. 
 
 CHARACTERS. > 
 
 Mr. Benson (a Barrister) Mr. EMSEY. 
 
 Mr. Trotter Southdown (his Friend) Mr. F. ROBSON. 
 
 Mr. John Meredith (a Pupil of Mr. J3enA0»'s)MR. LESLIE). 
 
 Mrs. Benson , MissWYNDHAM- 
 
 Mrs. Trotter Southdown . . Mrs. .STIRLING. 
 
 " ^' ■*■ 
 TIME— The Present Day. 
 
 SCENE— MR. BENSON'S HOUSE IN THURLOVV SQUARE. 
 lime qf Representation Fifty-Viree Minute*. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 Mr. Benson — Frock-coat, buff waistcoat, and grey trousers. 
 
 M?'. Trotter Southdown — Shooting or fishing coat, waist- 
 coat, and trousers, all of small black and white plaid, drab 
 clotb boots, drab hat. 
 
 Mr. Meredith — Dark frock-coht, fancy drab waistcoat, an& 
 trousers, black hat. 
 
 Mrs. Benson — Handsome morning dress, silk apron. '^""' 
 
 Mrs. Soiithdoicri — Morning walking dress, fashionable 
 bonaeU china crape shawl. 
 
'/)• •■ ' ;:; 
 
 Monday, 
 
 i ' 
 
 -1 'I', . 
 
 ;.' 
 
 ISEY. 
 
 ROBSON. 
 :SLIE. 
 
 YNDHAM. 
 riRLING. 
 
 , '» 
 
 SQUARE. 
 
 trousers. , 
 
 at, waist- 
 laid, drab 
 
 coat, and 
 
 on. 
 ihionable 
 
 TO OIUJGE BENSON. 
 
 I 
 
 SCENE. — A Drawing- Room. 
 
 Door in fiat c, hacked by another chamber. Doo^ 
 E. 2 E. JFindow (j)ractlcaf)le) with curtains, it. 3 E, 
 Door, L. 3 E. Practicable fire-place, with pre, fender^ fire- 
 irons, hearth-rug, ^c, L. 2 E. Chimney-piece, with (/lass, 
 china ortiaments, vases, and French clock. Hound tabid, 
 B. H. with books, knick-knacks, blotting book, 3 sheets of 
 letter paper, 3 pens, and ink. Chair near table. Chairs 
 about stage. Table at hack, {against fiat) l.h. A chair 
 {to break) near it. Easy chair by fire-place ; carpet down; 
 on ottoman in c. of stage. 
 
 Enter Meredith, l.c. 
 
 Meredith. Not here ! I am sorry for that — no, I am 
 not — I'm glad ; it will give me time to collect myself before 
 I face her. I am overwhelmed with anxiety until I know 
 the result of my letter. She can'r be oflcnded at it — yet» 
 if she should, the consequences n);iv be awful. It's wrong I 
 —of course, I know it's wrong, I didn't pay Benson a 
 hundred guineas for leave to h-^\ J * ^376 with his wife — his 
 adorable wife — whom her purchnicnt-faced husband leaves 
 all day by herself, while he's rummaging Reports in Ciuam- 
 bers, or retaihng them m the Queen's Bench. To see an 
 angel like that ne^'-lected in this way is enough of itself to 
 set an inflammable fellow in a blaXe — and I am inflammabla 
 — I glory in it. She certainly is not annoyed at my atten- 
 tions, or she'd never have written m<e this dear letter, {takes 
 it out) the answer to which I slipped into her glove so 
 cleverly at th(> pic-nic in Bushey Park yesterday. I shall 
 ^ar what she says to k thi;^ morning. Of course I waa 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 "bound to call to enquire whetlier she liasn't caught any 
 cold {looh off at door, L. 3 e.) Eh ! — here she connc3 !^ 
 no, cnnfound it! it's Benson 
 
 Enter Benson, l. d. 3 e. 
 
 Bknson. Ah! Meredith, my boy! What good win J 
 blows you here, all the way from the Temple ? {qoes to R. of 
 ^: re -place) 
 
 Mer. Eh ? I— I — saw my uncle yesterday, (l. of fire' < 
 f lace) 
 
 Bkn. What ! the Captain ?— old Trueblue, eb ? 
 
 Mku. Yes ; and he will he delighted to let you have his 
 cottage at Ventnor for the long vacation, 
 
 Ben. Capital! — and the figure? 
 
 Mer. What you offered — fifty guineas for the three 
 months. 
 
 Ben. Bravo ! — Carry will be delighted with Ventnor— 
 the cottage is delightfully situate, isn't it ? 
 
 Mer. Delightfully. You can catch your own lobsters 
 out of the dining-room windows. 
 
 Ben. I don't krow that that will be any recommeniUtioa 
 — to her, I mean. But, remember, not a hint to Mrs. 
 Benson that I pay for the place — she fancies it a delicate 
 attention of yours — and she's so afraid of our spending too 
 much money. 
 
 Mer. You may dtpend on my keeping the secret. 
 
 Ben. And what «»re you going to do with yourself thit 
 long vacation ? 
 
 Mer. I hardly knjw. I shall probably be in the Isle of 
 Wight part of the time. 
 
 Bkn. Look us up, look us up. Carry will be delighted 
 to see you — you're a bit of a favourite with Carry, I can 
 tell you. 
 
 Mer. (aside) I hope so. 
 
 Ben. Here she is ! {crosses to r.) Not a word of the 
 money for the cottage. 
 
 Unier Mrs, Benson, b. d. 2 k. 
 
 Mrs. B. Good morning, Mr. Meredith ! (b.) 
 
 Mkr, (l.) Good morning! I hope you caught no cold 
 
 at Bushey yesterday ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, no! What a charming day we had! — I 
 
 enjoyed it so much* 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 Mki. (aside) Brnvo ! — she's not offended. I never had 
 s more delightful RfternooD. 
 
 Mks. B. Yes — the chesnuts were lovely. 
 
 Mkr. I didn't look at them, {significantly) •< 
 
 Mrs. B. Indeed! 
 
 BbN. Ah I Meredith's like me — no taste for green trees 
 ond white blossoms. L>uv calf's the colour— -ch, Meredith? 
 But, what do you think, Carry .^ Here's Meredith offers 
 us that pretty cottage of the captain's — his uncle's, you 
 know — at Ventnor, fur the long vacation. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, how very kind of Mr. Meredith I Such a 
 lovely spot I ' ; . 
 
 Ben. And not content with that, he's brotight vou a 
 box for the Opera to-morrow night. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Meredith! 
 
 Ben. (aside to Meredith) You twig! Take one at 
 Mitchell's. Hush ! (passes his purse to him sUly) 
 
 Mrs. B. But, my dear, we are trespassing on Mi 
 Meredith's kindness. 
 
 Bkn. Not a bit of it. He knows you adore the Opera, 
 and he can always get boxes given him. Can't you, 
 Meredith ? 
 
 Mkr. Oh, yes. I've some friends connected with the 
 press. It's only asking them. 
 
 Mrs. Southdown, {without l. c.) In the drawing-room ! 
 Oh, very well. 
 
 Ben. It's Mrs. Southdown, Carry. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Southdown, c. d., Meredith retires up to 
 
 fire-place 
 
 * 
 
 Ah ! Mrs. Southdown ! 
 
 Mrs. S. (c.) Good morning, Mr. Benson, {shaking hands 
 vith hinty l. c, heroes up, c, and comes down again, b. h.) 
 Well, Carry I {kissing Mrs. B.) 
 
 Mrs. B. How well you are looking, dear. 
 
 Mrs. S. I've come to restore stolen goods. Carry. Only 
 think, I carried off your gloves from Bushey, yesterday , 
 picked 'em up off the grass when you went for a stroll, and 
 put 'em on instead of my own. Here they are. (gives 
 ffloves) 
 
 Mer. She had her gloves ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Thank you. I couldn't imagine what had 
 become of them. And you enjoyed your pic-nic ? 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON, 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, enormously ! {sees Merkdith, <wicfc) There 
 he is. But only conceive, Carry. I made a conquest. 
 Ben. 'Gad, I don't wonder at it. 
 
 Mrs. B. a conquest, dear P 
 
 Mrs. S. " Veni. vidi, vici !" That's right, isn't it, Mr. 
 Benson ? 
 
 Ben. Quite. It was a letter of Caesar's to the Senate. 
 It means, " I came, I saw, I conquered." 
 
 Mrs. S. Only think, dear, of my getting a regular de- 
 claration — popped ^^ neatly — the gentleman thought I waa 
 a widow, I suppose, 
 
 Mrs. B. But who was it ? Do tell me. 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh no, that wouldn't be fair. I hardly know 
 him ; and I don't want to make the poor man ridiculous. 
 
 Mer. (aside) A pretty mess I've made of it. ' 
 
 Mrs. S. You never read anything like his letter (jortf- 
 iends to see Meredith) — Ah, Mr. Meredith, good morning I 
 I didn't bee you. — It was the silliest namby-painbiest stuff — 
 
 Ben. Ah ! so they always are, these love-letters. I've had 
 lots through my hands in actions for breach. They always 
 amuse the jury amazingly. 
 
 Mrs. B. But Mr. Southdown was there. If he had 
 seen you receive such a letter — 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, Trotter was asleep, under the horse- 
 chesiiuts. He always goes to sleep after dinner, you 
 know. 
 
 Ben. What a capital idea I Southdown peaceably snoring 
 while his wife was receiving a billet-doux. Isn't it a good 
 notion, Meredith? Ha! ha I ha I 
 
 Mrs. B. I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Benson. 
 
 Ben. And where is Southdown this morning P Snoring 
 still, I suppose. 
 
 Mrs. S. He ? Oh dear, no. He was off by 
 o'clock this morning to his model farm, at Willesden. 
 
 Ben. Farm! Now how a sennilile man of business, like 
 Southdown, can take any pleasure in farming ! — 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, it's his passion. We all have our passions^ 
 you know, Mr. Meredith. Always some little pet wicked* 
 ness. Lucky where they're nothing worse than absurd. 
 
 Mer. (aside) Confound it ! She's quizzing me. 
 
 Mrs. S. He is to grow turnips as big as balloons, and 
 feed oxen so fat they can't walk, and raise mangold- 
 wurzel upcn deal tables ; and, in short, to make bis fortune 
 
 eight 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 in the most wonderfal way,— in the long run. Only it*i 
 verv expensive — in the meanwhile. 
 
 Ben. Throwing his money away, and neglecting his wife 
 for such humbug at that ! I have no patience with h!m. 
 I say, Meredith, I wish you would just come into my study 
 — I've had the papers in Griggs and Griffin up from 
 chambers. There's the prettiest point I want to show you. 
 {^oing up to door r 2 b.) 
 
 Mbr. Very well. {Aside to Mrs. S., as he crosses behind 
 io R.H.) I must have five minutes conversation with you, 
 ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside to him) With all njy heart. 
 
 Ben. {to Mrs. S.) I shall find you here in a quarter of 
 an hour P 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes. I've come to spend the morning with 
 Carry. 
 
 Ben. Come along, Meredith. We shall put Griggs out 
 of court. He's made the most tremendous blunder in his 
 declaration. Exit, Benson, r.d.2.e, 
 
 Mer. {aside) Confound it ! So have 1 1 
 
 £xit Meredith, r.d. 2 a. 
 
 Mrs. B. {sitting down r.) Well dear, here we are, nice 
 and cosey. What shall we do ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {sitting down c.) Talk seriously. 
 
 Mrs. B. Very well. Were you at the Opera on Tuesday } 
 
 Mrs. S. Never mind the Opera. Let's talk about the 
 pic-nic. 
 
 Mrs. B. And your love-letter, eh ? Well, now, who 
 was it ? Let me guess. Was it a friend of Mr. Meredith's P 
 
 Mrs. S. It was Mr. Meredith himself. 
 
 Mrs. B. Mr. Meredith ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, he slipped the letter into my gluve — that 
 is to say, into your glove, which I took by mistake. 
 
 Mrs. B. No 1 How very droll ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Droll! You seem amused, Carry. That letter 
 was intended for you, and from ihe language of it, it is clear 
 that you have already written to him. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, well, suppose I had. 
 
 Mrs. S. Suppose you had ! My dear Carry, do yoa 
 know you've done a very imprudent thing P 
 
 Mill, B. But, Lucy, he was so very unhappy. 
 
 Mas. S. Well. 
 
8 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 Mrs. B. And then, 1 assure you, I've never given him 
 the least encouragement. 
 
 Mrs. S. You don't call that letter encouragement. I 
 suppose ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Well, but you know Benson's all day lo:ig ii 
 chambers, or in court, and one gets so moped. And 
 Mr. Meredith is so attentive — always calling and sending 
 one bouquets and prints, and getting autographs for one's 
 album, and giving one Opera Boxes. 
 
 Mrs. S. And what does that all amount to, that you 
 should run the risk of making an excellent husband, like 
 yours, unhappy ? 
 
 M^^A B. Oil, yes, I admit there never was a worthier 
 man or a kinder creature than Benson. 
 
 Mrs. S. My dear Curry, I hate preaching, and I don't 
 think it ever does any good. But really you are wrong to 
 trifle in a matter of this sort. (Mrs. B. is about to speak) 
 I know — you've only committed an indiscretion, but indis- 
 cretions may easily grow into crimes, and — 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Lucy, you alarm me. I'll never do any- 
 thing so foolish again. But what ought I to do, dear ? 
 
 Mrs. S. First of all, you mustn't write any more letters 
 to Mr. Meredith. 
 Mrs. B. Oh, never ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And then you must get back the one yo\ihave 
 written, 
 
 Mrs. B. Bq', how ? 
 
 Mrs. S. I'll undertake to recover it. I'm to see him 
 here directly. You had better go. 
 
 Mrs. B. (crosses to l.) Oh, I'm so much obliged to yon, 
 you can't thmk. I had no notion I was acting so foolishly. 
 But I assure you I've not given him the least encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. S. Now, pray don't say that again. Carry. 
 Mrs. B. I won't, then. I'll go to my own room directly, 
 and if ever 1 do such a thing again, dear, ic would serve me 
 right to tell Mr. Benson. ^it Mrs. Benson, l.d. 3 e. 
 Mrs. S. It's lucky Benson is so blind to everything 1)US 
 his points of law, or there might have heen mischief here 
 already. Ah ! here comes the inamorato — so now to get 
 back the letter. 
 
 Enter Meredith. R.d. 2 E. 
 Mer. {n.) I trust, Mrs. Southdown, you will not betray 
 the secret which you have discovered by a mistake. 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.) I've a very good mind, Sir, to betray it, 
 txcept on one condition — that you give up your most un- 
 becoming attentions to Mrs. Benson. 
 
 Mkr. Ask anything but that, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. S. I shall not usk anything but that, Sir. Unless 
 you will give me this promise. 
 
 Mer. But Mrs. Southdown — 
 
 Mrs. S. I will listen to no special^leading, Sir. I am 
 mistress of your secret, and it is for me to dictate the con- 
 ditions on which I will consent to keep it. 
 
 Mer. {aside) She's as obstinate as one of her husbaod's 
 own j)igs. Well, madam, what are your conditions ? 
 
 Mrs. S. You will immediately leave London. 
 
 Mer. Agreed. 
 
 Mrs. S. You will not come within a hundred miles of 
 the Bensons all this summer. 
 
 Mer. Ca^e) Confound it ! Well ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And before going you will (^ive up to me the 
 letter votrTiave received from Mrs. Benson — at once— or 
 I tell Mr. Benson everything. 
 
 Mkr. Good Heavens ! Mrs. Southdown ! , 
 
 Mrs. S. The letter — 
 
 South, {without L. c.) Hollo, Toody ! Where are you ? 
 
 Mer. Hush! 
 
 Mrs, S. It's only my husband, never mind him ! 
 
 Enter Southdown l. c. 
 
 South, (l.) Oh ! good morning, Toody. 
 
 Mrs. S. {to Meredith) The letter. Sir, at once. 
 
 South. Holloa ! Toody won't even bid me good morning 
 this morning — Eh ? I said good raornii)g, Toody. 
 
 Mrs. S. {carelessly) Good morning, Trotter, good 
 morning. 
 
 South. What a duck it is! Ah, Meredith, I saw you at 
 the pic-nic yesterday, my boy — didn't you pitch into the 
 champagne, yduf ogue — and didn't you pay attention to the 
 ladies — Ah, you dog ! Well, and how are you — hearty — 
 ch? 
 
 Mer. Quite well, thank you, Sir. 
 
 Mrs. is. The letter — I must and will have it. 
 
 Mkr. I will give it back to Mrs. Benson. I havn't gd 
 it here. 
 
 Mas. S. Go and fetch it. 
 
10 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 South. What is he to go and fetch, Toody ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Never you mind, Trotter. 
 
 Mkr. But surely — 
 
 Mrs. S. Go at CLoe, Sir, or I will speak out 
 
 Mkr. Very well, Ma'ara, then speak out. 
 
 Exit Meredith, angrily ^ and with determination, l, c 
 
 Mus. S. (up c. looking after him astoniahed) But, Sir — 
 
 South, (l.) Eh ! " Speak out !" What are you up to, 
 you two .'' What is the secret between you and Meredith ? 
 He looked uncommonly queer, and . you're looking 
 flabbergasted. 
 
 South, (to herself, corning dou?n r, h.) I hope things 
 have not gone any further than Carry said, but this obsti- 
 nate refusal to give up the letter, and her thoughtlessness — 
 
 Mks. S. Well, but I say, Toody, you don't ask after the 
 early reds. Would you beheve it ? I found three with the 
 blight on 'em already — I've brought one to show you. 
 
 Mrs. S. (to herael/J I begin to feel very anxious about them. 
 
 South. So do 1. Now's the ticklish time — just as they 
 are beginning to swell. Look ! (takes a diseased potato from 
 his pocket) 
 
 Mrs. S. Their eyes must be opened. 
 
 South, (staring at her) Eh ! my potatoes' eyes opened ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, bother your potatoes ! 
 
 South. Bother my potatoes ! On the contrary, my pota- 
 toes bother me. 
 
 Mrs. S. Eh! yes, I've a plan to prevent the mischief 
 going any further. 
 
 South. No — have you though ? Out with it ! Mine? 
 lime 's been tried, and salt — they're no use. Is yours a 
 new one ? 
 
 Mrs. S. a new one indeed, but I wasn't thinking about 
 potatoes. Trotter. 
 
 South. Weren't you though? My head's full of them 
 — day and night. 
 
 Mrs. S. Now, Trotter, listen to me ; you have a great 
 regard for Benson, have you not ? 
 
 South. Regard for Benson? Immense regard — I'll do 
 anything in the world to obli<;c him, — except cut farming. 
 
 Mrs. S, Then you have an exct-lleut opportuuity to oblige 
 him now. 
 
 South, To oblige BeDsoni Dees he want any money P 
 
 Mrs, S. Ob, no ! 
 
 you 
 
 ehe : 
 
tion, L. c* 
 
 t, Sir — 
 ,u up to, 
 leredith ? 
 : looking 
 
 pe things 
 this obsti- 
 lessness — 
 k after the 
 ;e with the 
 
 you. 
 
 bout them. 
 ast as they 
 
 otatofroM 
 
 opened ! 
 
 ', my poti- 
 
 Ic mischief 
 
 it ! Mind 
 Is yours a 
 
 Iking about 
 
 lull of them 
 
 we a great 
 
 U-I'lldo 
 It farming. 
 ly to obligtt 
 
 money ? 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 ft 
 
 South. Well, Vhat is it, then P 
 
 Mrs. S. You must leave the house. (Southdown ^owttp 
 lotcards c. d.) Where are you going ? 
 
 South. To leave the house— didn't you tell me ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Stop ! you must leave the house, and then sud* 
 denlv oomein as if vouM not been here before— 
 
 South. Will that ob-lige Benson ? 
 
 Mks. S. Do wait till I've finished the sentence.— But do 
 not come in till you hear me sav : " Good gracious, here's 
 Trotter !" 
 
 South. Till I hear you say : " Good gracious, here's 
 Trotter !" I don't understand. 
 
 Mrs. S. That's not of the least consequence. — When 
 you hear that, open the door and shout out: "Where is 
 ehe? — I'm certain she's here !" • . 
 
 South. Who's hereP 
 
 Mils. S. Me. And you must begin storming at me in the 
 most furious manner. 
 
 South. Storming at you, Toody, what for ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Because you're jealous of me. 
 
 Sv uth. Jealous! stuff and nonsense ! I'm not jealous, 
 
 Mrs. S. No, but you must pretend to be. ■ 
 
 South. To oblige Benson ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Exactly. ' 
 
 South. But, Toody, I don't think I know how to be 
 jealous — I never was given to that sort of thing. 
 
 Mrs. S. Just imagine I had been flirting with somebody ! 
 
 South. Bless you, I couldn't imagine such a thi"^ if I 
 tried. 
 
 Mus. S. Well, but only suppose I had! • 
 
 South. Oh — well — if you h-Mi— {violently) •"• 
 
 Mrs. S. What would you say P 
 
 South, {mildly) Oh, I should sav, "Toody likes it; fiO 
 it's all right." 
 
 ]\Iks. S. Then you don't care for me. Trotter? 
 
 South. Not care for my Toody? 
 
 Mits. S. If you do. pray do what I ask you; besides, 
 I've uAA vou already it's lo (>i)lige — 
 
 South.' Benson! Well, T-Jody, I'll try. 
 
 Mks, S. That's a dear old boy. Now go out at once, 
 tnd come in raving like a Uuintic. 
 
 bouTH. Like a lunatic, chP 
 
 Mrs. S, Yes. 
 
w 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 South. Very well, Toody, I'll try; but how the (?e'."je 
 can that oblige Benson ? 
 
 Mks. S. Now do go. Trotter, and don't ask questions— 
 you know I'm always right. 
 
 South. Of course, Toody. (aside) I've not the least 
 notion what she means — but she's such a superior woman. 
 
 ExU Southdown, c.d.l. 
 
 * Mrs. S. Yes, it's a capital plan; and if poor Trotter 
 isn't 'Xjo stupid* — 
 
 Enter Mrs. Benson, l. d. 3 e. 
 
 Mrs. B. (l.) Well, Lucy, have you succeeded P 
 
 Mrs. S. (b.) My dear Carry, Meredith refuses *o give 
 back the letter, 
 
 Mrs. B. Then let him keep it, poor fellow ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Let him keep it ! 
 
 Mrs. B. After all, wh»t can it sij;nifvP 
 
 Mrs. S. My poor dear Carry, if you knew as I do the 
 dreadful consequences of even the slightest flirtation on the 
 part of a married woman — 
 
 Mrs. B. You — you, dear steady old Lucy? What do you 
 know about flirtation P 
 
 Mrs. S. Ahem ! Now for it. (aside) Shall I confess to 
 you, my dear, that I have been imprudent enough to accept 
 what I thought harmless attentions from a gentleman — ^not 
 Trotter — and even to write to him, 
 
 Mrs. B. You don't say so! 
 
 Mrs. S. I said at first as you do, " What can it signify V* 
 "Ii'l- only to amuse myself,*' "And then Trotter don't 
 Know whitt jealousy is." And so I fancied, till one day he 
 ^ound it out. 
 
 Mb«>. B. Good gracious ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And ever since he's been a perfect brute — a 
 tiger ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Mr. Southdown a tiger I 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, in society he restrains himself; but a": 
 home — you haven't an idea — it's fearful — not a moment's 
 peace — suspicions — allusions — quarrels — threats — violence I 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Lucy, how dreadful ! 
 
 Mrs. S, Why, at the pic-nic vjesterday, when he was 
 lying under the chesnuts, he wasu t asleep, my dear ; oh, no, 
 bless you, he had his eye on me aU the time. I'm almost 
 afraid he saw me take that letter out of your glove. And 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 IS 
 
 ever since it's perfectly awful the way he has been Jn. This 
 morning he said he was going to the farm at Willesden ; 
 bat it's quite possible it was only a trick to throw me off ray 
 guard. I dare say he was hiding in the mews round the 
 corner to watch who called, or to see if I went out, and tc 
 follow me. {noise of footstejjs heard with l. c.) Eh ! that 
 step ! oh ! 
 
 Mrs. B. What's the matter ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Good gracious ! here's Trotter. 
 
 Mrs. B. {goes up to c. d., and looks off l.) Yes, he's in 
 the hall. 
 
 South, {without, l.c.) Don't tell me! stuff! humbug! 
 {roarivg) 
 
 Mrs. S. For Heaven's sake, Carry, say you've not left 
 me an instant ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Don't be frif^htened — I'll say anything. 
 
 ^ovsTw. {without) Don't tell me! — she is here — I know 
 she's here ! 
 
 Mrs. B. How dreadful! He's frantic! {gets down to l. 
 corner) 
 
 Enter Southdown, l. c. 
 
 South, {comes down r.) I must see her — I will see her — 
 I insist on seeing her — I shall proceed to violence if I don't 
 see her — so — 
 
 Mrs. S. (c.) Oh, Sir, not before Mrs. Benson. 
 
 South, {aside and stopping short in his violence) 1 mustn't, 
 mustn't I ? • :.; 
 
 Mus. S. {aside to him) Of course you must. 
 
 South. So, Mrs. Trotter Southdown — so, Madam— 
 
 Mus. B. (l. soothingly) But, Mr. Southdown — 
 
 South, {crossing to c. very politely and quietly) How do 
 you do, Mrs. Benson? 
 
 Mus. S. \aside to him) Be in a rage, (r.) 
 
 South, (c.) I'm in a ruge. Ma'am — a towering rage— 
 a tremendous rage ! 
 
 Mrs. S. {k, .aside to him) Capital! 
 
 South. I say, I'm in a tremendous rage ; because, of 
 coarse — {aside) — what the deuce am I in a IreiueuJous idge 
 for? 
 
 Mrs. B. I assure you, Mrs. Southdown and 1 have been 
 sitting quiellv here by ourselves, (l.) 
 
 • Mrs. S. Oh, he will not believe what vow «iay ! {aside t9 
 iim) Say you don't believe her. 
 
24 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 South. No, iMadam, no; stuff and nonsense, Madara ; 
 I don't believe you 1 
 
 Mrs. S. {crying) Oh, I'm an unhappy woman ! To ex- 
 pose nic thus before my friend — to exhibit your insane 
 jealousy! Oh, you'll break my heart I 
 
 South, {jjoes to her) Eh ! break your heart, Toody ? 
 Come ! {she pinches him) Oh ! {resuming his violence) I 
 don't care, Mrs. Trotter Southdown — break away! 
 
 Mks. B. (l.) This violence from you, Mr. Southdown, 
 whom I alwavs thought the mildest of men— .,,1/ 
 
 South. Well, I am the mild — 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside to kirn) Be a brute. 
 
 South. Mild ! I am mild, naturallv — no I am not — that 
 is, I dou't know what I am— on the contrary ; because, of 
 course — in short, there are circumstances — {aside) What 
 the deuce ought I to say ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {seated on ottoman c. — aside to him) Stride about 
 the room. 
 
 South, (l. c, aside to her) Eh, stride ! Yes, I can't 
 stand quiet ; my agitation forces me to stride about the room 
 — in this style, Madam, {walks about in long strides — then 
 aside to Mrs. S. stopping l.c.) Will that do, Toody ? 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) Capital! Go on. Sir, you are a brute! 
 B tyrant ! {aside to him) Tear your hair, (c.) 
 
 South, {aside to her l.c.) To oblige Benson ? 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) Of course ! 
 
 South. It's enough to make a man tear his hair out by 
 the roots, {he seizes his hair and pretends to tear it) 
 
 Mrs. B. (l.) But, Mr. Southdown — '' 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside to him) Capital ! Now, throw the furni- 
 ture about and go. 
 
 »^ South, {aside) To oblige Benson ? {aloud) But I will 
 restrain myself no longer — there 1 {begins to fiing furniture 
 about in pretended rage, lid putting it gently down again ; 
 Hings a chair against door B. 2 E. which hits Benson, who 
 inters at the moment) 
 
 Mils. S, To use me thus,— before my friends, too ! Oh, 
 this brutal treatment is not to be borne ! 
 Exit Mrs. Southdown l.o. 3 e.. Southdown rushes up c 
 
 Ben. (r. rubbing his shim) Confound it, Trotter 1 Trotter 
 Southdown ! I say, Trotter ! 
 
 South, Don': tt;ll me — I want air, air — quantities of air! 
 {going c.) Well« thie ia the uddcbt way of obliging Benson! 
 
 Jueit Soutudowx iJ.Ct 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 15 
 
 sense, Madam ; 
 
 Ir. Southdown, 
 
 irow the fumi- 
 
 [ids, too ! Oh, 
 
 Bbn. {crosses to l.) What on earth is the meaning of all 
 this ? ^ ' ^ 
 
 Mrs. B. (e.) Was ever anything like his violence } 
 Good gracious ! to think of Mr. Southdown being jealous 
 of his wife. 
 
 Ben. I never should think of such a thing. 
 
 Mrs. B. He is, though. 
 
 BbN. But what's his reason? '/ 
 
 Mrs. B. It appears she has had the indiscretion to write 
 to a gentleman — a young gentleman — 
 
 iih.N. Ah 1 that was imprudent — it would make a strong 
 hnpression on a jury. 
 
 x\Irs. B. Of course, there was nothing wrong — Lucy 
 assures me there wasn't. 
 
 Bjsn. Oh ! of course not ; but Southdown found it out, eh? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes ; and then it appears he must have seen 
 Mr. Meredith give his wife a letter at the pic-nic yesterday. 
 
 Ben. Meredith! so it's he that's been playing the fool, 
 is it ? Now, why will Southdown allow his wife to go to 
 such parties. A young woman like her ! I can quite 
 understand his agitation now — quite. Poor Southdown ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh ! but after all, no reasonable man would get 
 into such a passion for such a trifle as that. I am sure you 
 wouldn't — would you, dear? 
 
 Ben. Eh, hum 1 I don't know. One can't answer for the 
 consequences in such cases. As I told the jury in Blogga 
 and Burster, only last week — " When the temple of tlie 
 domestic affections is violated, what matters the size of the 
 breach or the plunder that rewards the sacrilegious in- 
 truder ? That holy seal of coniSdence which cements the 
 marriage bond is broken — the shrine of the household god 
 has been outraged; and who can wonder if the poor 
 worshipper in that desecrated fane, forgetting himself, 
 should have thrashed the defendant within an inch of his 
 ife V* 
 
 Mrs. B. Beautiful! 
 
 Ben. But, of course, with a prudent, steady little duck 
 of a wife like you, Carry, {ki8sin(/ her) there's no fear of such 
 indiscretion. No, no. However, we must get this affair 
 settled without going to law. You go to Mrs. Southdown, 
 and comfort her; and I'll reason with Southdown, {going 
 
 up L.H.) 
 
 Mrs. B, Oh, do pacify him! {going vp, and crossing, 
 
 to L.H.) 
 
 '>^..-..:4, 
 
16 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 Ben. Ill try. (looking out window, K. 3 E.) There he is* 
 walking up and down iu front of the house, mopping his 
 forehead, and trying to curb his indignation, poor fellow! 
 {calls from window) Here, Southdown 1 — I say ! — holloa! 
 come up, there's a good fellow ! — I want to speak to vou, 
 
 Mrs. B. (up l.) Does he still look excited ? 
 
 Ben. (B.) No — he appears mild — quite mild. The 
 open air has a wonderfully soothing effect in these cases. 
 But go, Carry, and comfort Mrs. Southdown. 
 
 Mrs. B. I'll go at once. Now do impress upon him, 
 my dear, that there's no harm in what she's done— that she 
 wrote the letter without meaning anything — just as anybody 
 might — ^just as I might, (aside) Oh, dear ! — if he found 
 out 1 had/ Exit Mrs. Benson, l. o. 3 e. 
 
 Enter SouTHDOWN, L.c. He looks round room, and 
 
 comes down l.h. 
 
 South, (l.) Toody not here ! 
 
 Ben. (R.) Now, Trotter, you really must restrain your 
 feelings. Come ! you're more reasonable now, aren't you ? 
 
 South, (l.) Eh ? (aside) What a bore Toody's not here 
 to tell me if I ought to go on being crazy, or not! 
 
 Ben. Come, don't sulk. Trotter. Promise me you'll be 
 more master of yourself in future. 
 
 South. I'll try. (aside) I mustn't tell him it was to 
 oblige him. (aloud) I say, Benson, I hope I didn't hurt you 
 with that chair ? 
 
 Bbn. Don't mention it. But I say, my dear fellow, you 
 really ought not to give way in this style. Remember, if 
 Mrs. Southdown has been a leetle indiscreet, after all, you 
 are most to blame. 
 
 South. Eh! what? (aside) Mrs. S. indiscreet! What 
 does he mean ? (aloud) Do you think so? 
 
 Bbn. Yes — what can you expect if you neglect a woman 
 as you do, for that humbugging farm of yours ; cultivating 
 Swede turnips, and mangold wurzel, instead of the domestic 
 aflfections. A woman naturally feels piqued, and accepts 
 attentions from others. 
 
 South. Attentions! (aside) Toody accept attentions! 
 What is he talking about ? 
 
 Bkn. And, though appearances are against her, I'll 
 undertake to satisfy any jury there was nothing in her con- 
 duct at the pic-nic yesterday, beyond a leetle indiscretion* 
 
•TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 ei 
 
 South. Her conauct at the pic-nic ! Indiscretion! 
 
 Bek. Even that letter she received — 
 
 SorxH. Letter ! — Toody receive a letter? 
 
 Bkn. Oh, my wife's told me everything — she'a in yo^j.* 
 wife's secret. 
 
 Sooth. My wife's secret ! — then ray wife's got a secret'.' 
 
 Ben. I can answer for it that Meredith meant no harm, 
 either, in writing to her. 
 
 South, {aside) Meredith write to my wife ! — indiscre- 
 tion ! — receive attentions! Then it was he — ah! a light 
 breaks in on me. Their conversation this morning when I 
 came upon them unawares — his agitation — her distraction ! 
 Oh, the duplicity of woman ! It was to blind me — to 
 hoodwink me — she persuaded me to get into a passion and 
 behave as I did — storming, and striding, and flinging chairs 
 tbout — she said it was to oblige you. 
 
 Ben. To oblige me! 
 
 South. Yes. But now, will you oblige me? 
 
 Ben. In any way in my power. Trotter. 
 
 South, Next time that fellow, Meredith, sets his foot in 
 vour house, vou set your foot in his — that is — kick him out 
 '—will you ? ' 
 
 Bkn'. Kick him out ? ' ■. ' - 
 
 South. Yes, unless I'm here, and then I'll save you 
 the trouble. 
 
 . • JE7«/er Meredith, L.c. ,, ., . U-j !i ! 
 
 MiR. (at hack ^.v\ .) I've brought the letter. I must 
 give it hack or she'll betray me. Ah, Benson and South- 
 down here ! 
 
 Bex. {to South.) No-.v just let me give you a piece of 
 friendly advice. 
 
 South. Advice! I know what you are goiuij to say — 
 briny; an action iigninst him. 
 
 r>KN. An action } Certainly — of course. 
 
 Mi;r. An action ! She's betra»'ed me, then, {retires up 
 listcfii/iff) 
 
 South. Yes, and you shall lead for me: or, I tell you 
 what, better still, I'll challenge him, and you shall carry 
 the challenge. The scoundrel! 
 
 Ben. But duelling is illegal, my dear fellow Goo4 
 gracious! suppose you shot him ? 
 
 South. I dwell upon ;he idea w'th pleasure. 
 
■H 
 
 18 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 Bbn. But then youM be guilty of murder, and I should 
 be an accessory before the fact. 
 
 South, I'll have revenge in one way or other ; by tha 
 law or against it — an action or a duel — damages or death ! 
 
 Mer. I'd better get it over at once {coming forward b.h.) 
 
 Ben. (c holding Southdown hack) Now, my dear 
 Trotter, be calm. 
 
 South. Calm 1 Tell the ocean to be calm between Folk- 
 stone and Boulogne. There he is ! Let me get at him ! 
 
 Ben. You're in my hands. Sit down. This is my 
 affair. (Benson /orce* Southdown up the stage into chair 
 R. of fireplace) 
 
 Mer. (r. aside) As I feared ; it's all over. 
 
 South, (in chair^ to Benson) Mind, swords or pistols, or 
 rifles, or revolvers — anything he likes, it's all one to me. 
 
 Ben. (to Meredith) So, Sir, you're Viere ! Rash young 
 man ! your scandalous intrigues are discovered! The most 
 dreadful consequences are to be apprehended unless you 
 promise to leave London this very day, 
 
 Mer. But, Sir — 
 
 Ben. No explanations. Your conscience ought to tell 
 you if they can improve matters. 
 
 Meb. (aside) Very well. Sir, I promise to leave Lon- 
 don. 
 
 Ben. There, thank goodness, that's settled. ' 
 
 South, (jumping up) Settled ! You call that settling f 
 I'll show you what settling is ! (crosses to B. c.) Find a 
 friend, Sir. We shall be happy to see you with him at 
 Wormwood Scrubs with any weapons, provided they are 
 deadly ones, to-morrow morning at six, or earlier, if you 
 like. 
 
 Meb. a challenge ! 
 
 South. I flatter myself it is ; — and none of you hum- 
 bugging affairs, — mere bouncers to frighten the cock- 
 pheasants, and to publish in the newspapers. No, Sir ; a 
 challenge, Sir ; to be followed by blood. Sir, real blood ! 
 {crosses to r. and leans on back of chair) 
 
 Mkr. (goes up c.) Mr. Benson, your friend is too excited 
 at present to make any arrangements; but I shall be in my 
 chambers all the afternoon, and any communication I may 
 receive I will refer to a friend, in the style understood 
 among gentlemen. (Exit Meredith, i.*o* 
 
 Ben. (l.) But, Southdown, do reflect coolly* 
 
TO OBLIGE DENSOy. 
 
 19 
 
 South, (b.) Reflect coolly ? Now I ask you as a fnend, 
 Benson, aoi I in a state to reflect coolly P I'm wet through 
 with emotion. Coolly, indeed ! (goes up r.h:) 
 
 Enter Mas. Bbnson and Mas. Southdown, l.d. 3 k. 
 
 Bbn. (r. seeing Mas. S.) Oh, by Jove 1 here's his wife ! 
 
 Mrs. B. (l.c. aside to Mas. S.) Don't be alarmed ; he'i 
 quite calm now, Benson told me so. {to Southdown) Mr. 
 Southdown, here's Lucy. 
 
 South. (r.c.) Eh, my wife ! Take her away. I won't 
 see her. Put her somewhere ! 
 
 Mrs, S. {crossing to c. to him) Trotter I 
 
 South. Don't speak to me, crocodile I 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside) Capital ! Keep it up ! 
 
 South. Keep it up ! I don't want you to tell me to keep 
 it up, I can tell you. Rattlesnake! . , ;' ; •.. . . 
 
 Ben. But, Trotter 
 
 South. You be hanged! 
 
 Mrs. B. (crossing to Southdown) But Mr. South- 
 down 
 
 South. You be — (Mrs. Benson goes up a little, c, and 
 down again, L.H.) that is — I — I beg your pardon ; but I'm 
 mad, Mrs. Benson, stark, staring mad ! So, Mrs. South- 
 down, you think to throw dust in my eyes, do you ? I am 
 a good, stupid, easy-going man, am I ? But you are mis- 
 taken, M idam ; you don't know the demon that is generally 
 chained up under this mild exterior. He's loose now. 
 Basilisk ! 
 
 Mrs. S. (c, aside) Excellent I He's improved wonder- 
 fully in hh acting. 
 
 South. I've found out the wretch, Madam — the destroyer 
 of my peace of mind — the bomb-shell that has burst in my 
 house, and blown my domestic felicity to immortal smash ! 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside) I declare he's inimitable! {aloud) Oh, 
 mercy, mercy ! 
 
 South. I've challenged him, Madam; and at six o'clock 
 to-moriow at Wormwood Scrubs— 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside) Better and better! {aloud) You will 
 murder him. 
 
 South. I flatter myself I will, in the most cold-blooded 
 manner. 
 
 Mrs. S. {/ailing on her knees) Oh, spare me, Sir — spare 
 
«0 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 ! 
 
 South. You hear the Cobra de Capella; she asks me ta 
 spare him 1 Do you hear, Beoson ? Oh. I shall ^o crazy { 
 
 Ben. But, Trotter! 
 
 South. Dou't come near me. (crosses to B,^ I mav bitr — 
 I can't answer for it I shall not bite ! 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside) How well he does It! 
 
 South. Let me go ! (crosses to c.) I want air — I wau. 
 room — don't attempt to hold me! (he walks about over- 
 turning the furniture) Let the hurricane rage on ! -■ 
 
 Bbn. (r.) Oh. this will never do! Trotter !— Trotter 
 Southdown ! you're damaging the furniture. 
 
 South, (up stage, L.c.) It relieves my mind to smash 
 things ! (breaks chair) 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) He's overdding it. (aside to him) Trotter, 
 stop ; that will do — you're going too far. 
 
 South, (down, l. h.) Ah! going too far! On the con- 
 trary, I've not gone far enough — there ! (breaks a vase on 
 mantel pieoe) 
 
 Mrs. B. (r.c.) Oh. Sir 1 ^ 
 
 Bbn. (r.) Carry's favorite vase! ^'"'^' ' 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.c, aside to Southdown) Remember, this 
 isn't your house. 
 
 South. All the better! (he sm.ashes another vase) There ! 
 
 Bbn. But, Mr. Southdown, this wanton destruction ! 
 
 Mrs. B. It is too bad! 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) I must put a stop to this. Oh, mercy, 
 mercy! I'm dying! (sinks on ottoman, c.) 
 
 Mvs. B. (running to Iter, l. of ottoman) She has fainted ! 
 Oh, Lucy, Lucy I (Southdown throws himself, quite ex- 
 hausted, into arm-chair, l.) 
 
 Ben. (r. of ottoman) Here's a pretty state you've thrown 
 your wife into ! 
 
 South, (in chair, l.) Here's a pretty state she's thrown 
 me into! 
 
 Mrs. B. Lucy ! Oh, she's recovering 
 
 Mrs. S. Air, air ! 
 
 Ben. Take my arm, Mrs. Southdown, (going, leading Mrs. 
 Southdown up c. To Mrs. Benson, who is following) 
 Stay with him, or he may do himself a mischief. (Mrs. 
 Southdown goes towards c. leaning on Benson's arm} 
 Southdown sits sobbing in chair, l.) 
 
 Mes. B. (coming down l. of Southdown looking at him) 
 Poor man! what dreadful agony ! 
 
 -M^V. 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 tK 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside, and looking back) How wonderfully well 
 he does it ! 
 
 Exit Mrs. Southdown, supported by Benson, l.c» 
 
 Mas. B, {approaching Southdown, l.) Come, Mr. South- 
 down, cheer up — Lucy may have been imprudent — 
 
 South. A woman I adored, Madam ! {rises and comet 
 forwardt c.) A woman I thought more of than my great 
 rota baga mangold wurzel, or my liquid manure tank — a 
 woman I'd have given up high farming for if she had 
 asked me. 
 
 Mus. B. (l.) I'm sure she repents bitterly of her im- 
 prudence. 
 
 South. Eepents ! Suppose I'd been of an apoplectic 
 habit of body — the shock would have been fatal, Ma'am. 
 However, there's the duel to come. 
 
 Mrs. B, Oh, you don't mean to say you'll fight ? 
 
 South. Till one of us is brought home a mangled corse 
 by the usual mode of conveyance, a shutter. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Sir, do not talk in this dieadful manner {she 
 puts her handkerchief to her eyes) 
 
 South. You feel for me — I'm extremely obliged to you— ' 
 oh, try to conceive what I suffer — " Imagine Benson in my 
 predicament" — He's a happy man, if ever there was one — 
 fond of you — working awav from morning till night for 
 
 your sake. Well, now, suppose a d d good-natured 
 
 friend was to come to him and say, *' your pupil, Mr. Mere- 
 dith, is paying attentions to Mrs. Benson." 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh. Sir! 
 
 South. "Mrs. B. has written to him a letter. * 
 
 Mrs. B. Mr. Southdown! 
 
 South. I say, only imagine such a thing, of course you 
 wouldn't be guilty of anything of the kind — but, suppose 
 you had been, and Benson were to be told of it, suddenly — ■ 
 he's of a fuller habit of body than I am — it would be fatal 
 to him. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Southdown, how can you imagine such 
 <lreadful things ? Now just reftect — 
 
 South. Reflect! Reflect, indeed! I'm past the stage of 
 reflection. Madam, {he goes to table r. and sits^ taking uf 
 blotting book) .. ,_. .^ 
 
 Mrs. B. What are you going to do now ? jj 
 
 South. To write to Mrs. Southdown's family, to tefl 
 them what a wreck she's made of our once happy home. 
 
* 
 
 ti 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 !i! ■", 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 (writes) ** My dear mother-in-law — " (he smashes a pen, and 
 takes another, and a fresh sheet of paper) No, I'll spare her 
 mamma. " My dear father-in-law — " No, that is not heart- 
 broken enough, (throics pen away, and writes with a fre%k 
 one on a fresh sheet of paper) " Wretched parent — " Yes, 
 Eh ! I've smashed all the pens, and used up all the paper. 
 Oh ! in Benson's study I sh^U find the means of putting my 
 emotions into black and white. " ^' 
 
 JJariV Southdown, r. d. 2 e* 
 
 Mrs. B. And all this misery has been caused by a mere 
 indiscretion — a letter ? Good gracious ! To think I might 
 have caused as much suffering to poor dear Benson ! Oh I 
 it will be a lesson to me for life. 
 
 Enter Benson and Mrs. Southdown, l. c. 
 
 Here he comes, and Lucy. 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.) Do not tell me, Sir. It*8 always the hus- 
 band's fault. 
 
 Ben. (c.) But allow me — - • •- 
 
 Mrs. S. After you're once married you think you have a 
 right to neglect us. Engrossed by your pleasures — your 
 clubs — your public dinners — your white bait parties — you 
 don't think about us moping at home — and, of course — 
 
 Ben. But, my dear Mrs. Southdown, that's what I'm 
 always preaching to Trotter. *'Now, look here. South- 
 down—" I've said to him a hundred times — " Your head's 
 always running on turnips, and guano, and clod -crushers. 
 You don't think how Mrs. S. is bored all the while mewed up 
 by herself in Clarges-street, while you are drilling, and har- 
 rowing, and surface-soiling down at Willesden. Why don't 
 you do as I do?" ' , ' .. 
 
 Mrs. S. As you do ? 
 
 Ben. Yes, ask Carry if I'm not the most attentive hus- 
 band in the Temple. Why, when we were first married 
 there never was a night but I took her to a party, or to the 
 play, or the Opera. It bored me dreadfully, but I did it 
 frem a stern sense of duty — didn't I, Carry ? 
 
 Mrs. B. (r.) Yes, when we y/eitfrsi married. 
 
 Ben. And I should have gone on, only Carry got so eco- 
 nomical — so afraid I was spending too much on her, that, 
 egad, the only way I could manage, was to let Meredith 
 take the boxes, and pretend they were given him. 
 
 M^s. B. Then it was jfou. 
 
 n 
 
/, TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 23 
 
 Bbn. Of course it wae, I knew how you adored the Opera* 
 
 Mrs. B. And you never told me. 
 
 Ben. Why should IP To poison your pleasure P I only 
 mention it now, because Meredith's going to leave town 
 to-day. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh ! I hope we shall see him again before he 
 goes, to thank him for the very handsome way in which he 
 has offered us his uncle's cottage for the summer. 
 
 Ben. Oh never mind, considering I pay old Trueblue fifty 
 pounds for the three months. 
 
 Mrs. B. You pay fifty pounds ! Then, it's not a polite- 
 ness of his, but an n'tention of yours, dear. 
 
 Ben. Of course it is ! Do you think I value fifty pounds, 
 when it's to give pleasure to my Carry ? 
 
 Mrs. B, (aside) And I thought him careless — neglectful ! 
 
 Ben. I merely mention these things to show Mrs. South- 
 down what I have always preached to Trotter. But he 
 never would listen to me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Do you know {enihracing Benson, and getting 
 to c.) you're a dear, darling, attentive old hubby, and I love 
 you very much. 
 
 Ben. Of course you do. I know that. (Mrs. B. o/y;(?ar# 
 affected) Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Mrs. B, Nothing, dear, only — when I think — it you only 
 Icnew — 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.) {aside) The little fool 1 Hush ! But 
 ■where is my husband P 
 
 Mrs. B. He's gone to Mr. Benson's study to write to 
 your parents. 
 
 Mrs. S. To my parents! {aside) The dear feiiow ■ I 
 never thought he was half so mtellii^ent. 
 
 Mrs. B. He's more furious than ever, 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, leave me to soothe him. 
 
 Ben. I'm afraid you'll find it difficult. I never saw a 
 man in such a state as he was when I mentioned the letter 
 you had written to Meredith. 
 
 Mrs. 1^^. The letter I had written.? 
 
 Bln. Yes. Carry let it cnit to me, and I let it out to 
 him. That is, I mentioned it — 
 
 Mrs. S. You mentioned my writing a letter to Mr. 
 Meredith ? 
 
 Ben. Why. as he knew of it before. It was that first put 
 him in such a frenry-^ wasn't itf 
 
24 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 I 
 
 MPtS. S. Ab ! I see it all now. (aside) He's not 
 making believe to be jealous ! He is jealous in sober earnest. 
 
 Bkn. (going up) I had better see him. 
 
 Mrs. S. No, no. I must explain matters alone. You'l! 
 make the matter twenty times worse. 
 
 Bkn. Well, perhaps you're right. You women have a 
 way of managing things. Come, Carry, let's leave the 
 parties to setile the case out of court. It often answers 
 when we lawyers can't do anytlyng. 
 
 Exit Mr. and Mrs. Benson, l. d. 3 b. 
 
 Mrs. S. Here he comes ! I must open his eyes — poor, 
 dear old stupid! 
 
 Enter Southdown, r. d. 2 b. An open letter in his hand. 
 
 ' South. I think this will do. (j'eads) " Wretched ola 
 mnn !" It's perhaps not very polite to address one's father- 
 in-law in that manner, but it paints the desolation of my 
 mind, and will lead him to anticipate the misery that's in 
 store for him. " Wretched old man ! Your wife whom I 
 have the misfortune to call mv daughter" — 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.) Pooh ! pooh ! Trotter ! {she takes the letter 
 and crumples it up) If you must write to papa, don't write 
 non.>^rnse. 
 
 South, (r.) Eh! So Mrs. Southdown^ 
 
 Mrs. S. {lawjhlng) There, there ! and to think of your 
 being in earnest all the while. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 South. So, madam, you're laughing! Oh ! this is too 
 hardened ! 
 
 ]Mks. S. Don't you see ? It's all a farce. 
 
 SoTTH. A farce ! say a tragedy, madam, with everybody 
 killed in the last act ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Stuff and nonsense — how stupid you are ! Don't 
 you understand ? This flirtation — Mr. Meredith's letter — it 
 wasn't to me ! 
 
 SouTJJ. Not to you, eh ? not to you ? 
 
 Mrs. S. No, of course not, but to Mrs. Benson. She 
 was fo()li>h enough to send that letter — the answer was for 
 kcTy anfl I wanted you to act jealousy, only to frighten her 
 out of such indiscretions for the future. 
 
 SotiTir. So, to frighttMi her, eh ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, by showing lier to what lengths an angrv 
 husband can go; even such a kind, soft-he»*-**'*» easy crea- 
 ture as vou are. 
 
 S( 
 
 atroi 
 
 I an- 
 
 M 
 
 St" 
 
 Bens 
 
 •1 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 u 
 
 le's not 
 
 r earnest. 
 
 . You'l! 
 
 n have a 
 
 leave the 
 
 answers 
 
 J. D. 3 £. 
 
 s — poor, 
 
 his hand. 
 
 ched ola 
 's t'ather- 
 n of my 
 that's in 
 whom I 
 
 the Idler 
 I't write 
 
 of your 
 is is too 
 
 erybody 
 
 ! Don't 
 tier — it 
 
 |i. She 
 was for 
 iten her 
 
 n anirrv 
 ?v crea- 
 
 £ 
 
 South Oh, no ! really I call this coming it a leetle too 
 stronf^, even for such a kind, soft-hearted, easy creature aa 
 I am ! So, it's Mrs. Benson, is it ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Hash ! or Benson will hear you. 
 
 South. Mrs. Benson ! oh, oh ! this is too rich. Here, 
 Benson, Benson ! {crosses to L.c.) 
 
 Enter Benson ajid Mes. Benson l.d. 3 e. 
 
 Ben. (l.c.) Well, you've made it up ? 
 
 South, (r.c.) Made it up, indeed 1 Only imagine the 
 cock-and-bull story this abandoned female has invented to 
 humbug me! 
 
 Mrs. S. (r.) Mr. Southdown, don't! 
 
 South. Don't I how dare you say "don't" to me! 
 Only imagine, Benson, she says, the real culprit — 
 
 Mrs. S. Silence, Mr. Southdown, this instant I 
 
 South. Silence yourself, audacious woman ! She says 
 the real culprit is Mrs. Benson. 
 
 Mrs. B. (l.) Oh, goodness gracious! 
 
 South. That it's Mrs. Benson that Meredith paid atten- 
 tions to — that it was Mrs. Benson who wrote him a letter, 
 and that the letter he gave her at the pic-nic yesterday was 
 meant for Mrs. Benson. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Lucy ! how could you ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside to Mrs. B. behind Southdown a?id Bkn- 
 8oy) Hush ! 
 
 South. There, Benson I you thought " crocodile " too 
 strong an expression for such a woman — what do you think 
 now ? 
 
 Ben. (l.c. aside) It's a desperate move of hers, but we 
 must back her u[) — anything to save her from his fury. 
 {to Southdown) Well, Trotter, what Mrs. Southdown has 
 told vou, is the truth. ' 
 
 South. The truth! " * * 
 
 (Mus. Benson and Mrs. Southdown look astonished — 
 Benson makes signs to them) 
 
 Ben. (l.c.) Yes, Mrs. Benson has onfessed all to me. 
 It was an act of indiscretion — she has suffered deeply for her 
 folly. 
 
 South, (r.c. looking at Mrs. B. who is agitatedy l.h.) 
 Ii it possible P Well, 1 declare — I see she is agitated! 
 
 Mks, S. (r. o^iae to Trotter) Will you hold your 
 tongue ? 
 
 4 
 
26 
 
 fO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 I i' 
 
 South. Don*t speak to me, hysBna ! (to Bekson) But 
 yo« believe this ? 
 
 Ben. Of course I do. What can you expect ; I neglected 
 her for my briefs as you did for your turnips. Meredith was 
 all attention, all politeness ; in short, it was as much my 
 fault as hers — I admit it. She has told me all, and we've 
 made it up again — haven't we, my darling ? 
 
 Mrs. B. (l.) Oh, my dear — 
 
 Ben. (aside) Forgive my involving you — but it s to save 
 your friend. ' • ' • 
 
 Unter Meredith, l.c. 
 
 Here he is ! Will an avowal from his own Ups satisfy you ? 
 {(o Southdown) 
 
 Mbr. (c.) Tired of waiting in chambers, Sir, I am come 
 to know — 
 
 Ben. Sir, circumstances have changed since you were 
 lust here, {significantly) My wife, Sir, has acknowledged 
 to having written you a letter — I sav. Sir, my wife — 
 
 Mer. (aside) She must have confessed. Well, Sir— 
 
 Ben. You confirm my wife's acknowledgment — • 
 
 Mkr. As she has admitted the fdCt, Sir, I have no 
 choice — 
 
 Ben. (aside) He understands exactly ! I must in?ist, 
 Sir, on your giving me back the letter — my wife's letter ! 
 
 Mkr. (aside) Give it to him. Mr. Benson, it is impos- 
 sible ! 
 
 Ben. I insist on having it ! (aside) or Southdown may 
 catch sight of the writing. Corae, Sir — the letter! 
 
 Mer. I've burnt it. 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside to MEREmrn) A capital thought. 
 
 Ben. {aside) Deucedly well imagined ! 
 
 Mbbkdith slides the letter into Mrs. South down's hand- 
 Mrs. Southdown approaches the fire-place. 
 
 South, (up stage R.h.) I saw him pass it to my wifet 
 (aside) 
 
 Ben. Well, as it's burnt, of course you can't return it— ' 
 so let's say no more about the matter. I forgive you (andi 
 to Meredith) Shake hands — shake hands ! 
 
 Mer. (shaking hands with Benson) With all my heart 1 
 \jloe8 up c. — aside) Hang me, if I understand it ! 
 
 £xit Mkredith, l.c. 
 
TO OBLIGE BENSON 
 
 27 
 
 SON) But 
 
 neglected 
 edith was 
 oauch my 
 md we've 
 
 8 to save 
 
 isfy you? 
 
 am come 
 
 ^ou were 
 )wledged 
 
 Sir- 
 have no 
 
 t insist, 
 etter ! 
 impos- 
 
 vn may 
 
 's hand 
 
 ay wiftt 
 
 irn it— ' 
 u (aaidi 
 
 heart i 
 
 ^H, L.C 
 
 Southdown crosses to fire-place, 
 
 Ben. (crosses to r.) (to Southdown) There, Trotter ! 
 are you convinced now P 
 
 South, (l.) I'll soon show you. Mrs. Southdown !-^ 
 Madam ! — have the kindness to give me that letter ! 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.c.) What letter ? 
 
 Bkn. (r.) Didn't you hear Meredith say he had pat it ia 
 the fire } 
 
 South. Humbug! The letter, Madam I I command 
 you, by all the majesty of an offended husband ! (Mrs, 
 Southdown passes the letter to Mrs. Benson) There, now I 
 she's given the letter to your wife ! 
 
 Mrs. B. No, no I 
 
 Mrs. B. trying to conceal the letter, drops it. Benson seizes it. 
 
 South. Ah! now you've got it I 
 
 Ben. I ? — what an *iea ! 
 
 South, (goes round behind him, and seizes his hand, %oiti 
 the letter in it, r.) There ! 
 
 Ben. (r.c.) Well, I have got it ! — what then ? 
 
 South, (r.) Let me read it — I insist on reading — it's my 
 right I [trying to take the letter from Benson's grasp) 
 
 Bkn. What right can you have to read a letter written 
 by my wife } I am the only person who has any right to 
 violate her secrets, (takes letter, as if going to open it) 
 
 Mrs. B. (l. c. grasping Benson's arm) Oh, Mr. Benson ! 
 
 Ben. (to her) Capital ! Appear terrified ! (aloud) No, 
 Mrs. Benson, don't be alarmed — when Benson forgives, he 
 forgives entirely. My generosity doesn't stop half way. 
 (Benson crosses to the fire-place, lights the letter and lets it 
 folly burning, into the fender) There ! (crosses bwk again to 
 
 R. C.) 
 
 Mrs. B. (l. c.) Oh. Sir! (as Benson crosses) 
 
 Mrs. 8. {aside L.) She's saved I 
 
 South, (has quickly crossed behind to fire-place, snatched up 
 Vie burning letter, throws it down L. h. and stamps on it) Ah I 
 we'll see ! " - -> 
 
 Ben. (putting Mrs. B. round to R.) There's an example 
 for you, Trotter — I have forgiven my wife, though she had 
 committed an indiscretion. Forgive yours — who hasn't. 
 Come! 
 
 IMrs. S. (l. c.) Ah ! there are two words to that. Sup- 
 pose I refuse to forgive him ? 
 
 Ben. Oh, but he shall ask your pardon on his knees* 
 
f 
 
 29 
 
 TO OBLIGE BENSON. 
 
 {crosses to l. c.) Come, Trotter, down on your marrowbones. 
 (he forces Trottrr onto his knees) {to Mrs. S.) Behold him 
 at your feet ! (croS'Ses behind to r. c.) 
 
 Sc»uTH (on his knees) If I could only find out the truth! 
 fpicki up remnant of letter and looks at it) Oh ! there's some 
 of the writing still legible ! Oh ! oh, my wig! 
 
 Bkn. (r. c.) What's the matter ? 
 
 South, (l.) A. sudden emotion ! (aside) It's Mrs. 
 Benson's hfiid after all 1 (to Mrs. S.) Then, it was^ 
 
 M.' ". (L.C.) Yes. 
 . Sou?H. Oh ! 
 
 Ben. (r.c.) Come, forget and forgive — follow our ex- 
 ample — make it up. (kisses Mrs. Benson) Poor deluded 
 Southdown ! , ^ ^ 
 
 South . Wi«^h pleasure— with a Very great deal of pleasure. 
 Toodv . (n:ssf^s A^.Rfi. S., then rises from his knees) Poor 
 innocent Ik/i- x ! 
 
 B«N. And ncv v?e've liappily made up our quarrel. 
 Oblige !i-^ — ^to Mr . Touthdown) 
 
 South, (l.; jbi'gt ii"'!:^'^;m— • ■' ' 
 
 ^ Benson (r.c.) With a moral ? 
 
 Mrs. Southdown (advancing a little, l.c.) 
 
 Oh, wives ! mind, billet-doux are dangerous things ; 
 Use Hymen's torch to burn off Cupid's wings. 
 Husbands ! if notes meant for your wives are sent you, 
 ' Don't read, or the contents may discontent you. 
 
 Youths ! who post loves in gloves, care it demands, 
 That loves and gloves shall both reach the right hands ; 
 Or you may find — 'tis no uncommon case — 
 The gloves misfits, and the loves out of place ! 
 
 Benson (r.c.) Well summed up. 
 
 Mrs. Benson (r., pointing to audience) 
 
 To sum up's the judge's task, 
 Benson (to Southdown) 
 You'll oblige me — their verdict if you'll ask. 
 
 Southdown (l., Mrs. S.) 
 Toody ! — our fate pray take the House's sense on 
 
 Mfli. Southdown (to Audience) 
 You'll oblige. Trotter— 
 Southdown. 
 
 By obliging Bensor! 
 
 1I.H. Mas. B., Bsnson» Mrs. South. South., l.h« 
 
DwboncB. 
 hold him 
 
 be truth! 
 e's some 
 
 « *- ( 
 
 "-»> 
 
 t-BMr.. I THE FIKST NIGHT. 
 
 our ex- 
 deluded 
 
 pleasure. 
 ) Pool 
 
 •el. 
 
 % (ITomic Brami 
 
 .'/ J 
 
 ' , • !/ . 
 
 I. . - '•• ^ 
 
 mgs; 
 
 nt you, 
 
 inds, 
 lands; 
 
 I' . '^!^ . 
 
 
 « 
 
 ■ London { 
 
 Xew York : 
 
 8 task. 
 
 I SAMUEL VRMIXQK, 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 
 H PUBLISHER, 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 
 k. 
 
 ■ 19, STRAND. 
 
 122, NAS^SAU STREET. 
 
 »e on 
 
 1 
 
 
 .H* 
 
tirtt Pet/6rmtd at the Uoyal Princest't theatre, oh Atomia^, 
 
 October 1. 1849. 
 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 The Hon* Bertie Fitzdangle.... Mr. CRAveiv< 
 
 Hyacinth Parnassus Mr. Wtnn. 
 
 Theophilus Vamp Mr. SrAgBY. 
 
 TiMoTHEus Flat Mr. J. W. Rat* 
 
 AcHiLLE Talma DuFARD •••.•••. Mr A. Wiqan* 
 
 £m!lib Antoinette Rose Miss Louisa How 
 
 Miss ARABMjiA Fitzjames ..•..« Miss Sanders* 
 
 COSTUMES— Modern. 
 
 DiffarcU-Long surtout, dark trousers, white cravat, grey 
 and bald wig. 
 
 Itose. — Plain dark silk dress, French fashion, small plain 
 collar and ruifs. 
 
 Arabeda, — ^^Fashionable and at^flish carriage uress. 
 
 Thi% pi?ce is the property of Mr. J. M. Maddo,t, and cannot 
 it performed without hU permUmnt 
 
THE FIRST NIGHTI 
 
 ScRNB l.—Sitting Room in AcUlle Talma Lufard^s Lodging, 
 second floor. Door 2 b. l., leading to his Bedchamber, 
 Door 2 E. R., leading to the Bedchamber of his Daughter, 
 Door in flat. — Furniture, {plain) Table, two Chairs, anJ 
 Writing Materials. 
 
 Enter Fitzdangle at Door in flat, which had been left ajar, 
 
 TiTZDANGLE. I've managed to slip up unperceived. 6urtly 
 these must be the rooms — it can't be any higher, or no human 
 being could possibly undergo the exhausting process of the 
 journey more than once in the twenty-four hours ! Yes 1 
 this must be the place where Rose vegetates with that stu- 
 pid old actor whom she has the misfortune to call papa. 
 Tiie obstinate donkey ! Because his wife happened to be an 
 Englsliwoman, and his daughter consequently speaks our 
 language like a native, he persists in making an actress of 
 her, and of trving to bring her out upon a Jjondon stage ; 
 
 but rii— 
 
 DuFARD. {without) Rose! 
 
 FiTZ. That's the animal's voice, 
 
 DuF. {without, louder) Rose ! 
 
 Rose, {without, R. h.) Papa I 
 
 FiTZ. 'That's the animal's daughter's yoiot. 
 
 DuF. {without) Are you awake ? 
 
 FiTZ. A sensible (question, to 9&\ her if she's f^wi^]^ 
 
 1 
 
 -:^*.^\* 
 
THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [ic. I. 
 
 'M 
 
 I 1 
 
 li ! 
 
 t 
 
 RosB. {without) Yes, Papa. 
 
 FiTz. It's a pity she didn't complete the joke by eayingr 
 no. 
 
 DuF. («9 before) Rose ! 
 
 Rose, {as before) Yes, fapa. 
 
 Dup. (an hifore) Je rappellts tUy vere did I put my vig ? 
 
 ViTZ. His will*-, indeed ! 
 
 RosK. (as before) When you went to bed, Papa, you hung 
 it ou the water bottle, 
 
 PiTZ. The dirty old pig ! 
 
 DuF. {without) Ah, ban! I shafi find nim. 
 
 FiTz. Egad ! while he is putting on his vig, as he calls 
 it, I've a great mind to pop in here — there's nothing like a 
 vigorous assault, and, if she consents, I will carry her off 
 to liie continent at once. 
 
 DuF. {without) Rose ! 
 
 ' ' " Enter Rosb hastily from D. 2 b. R. 
 
 Rose. Here I am, Pffpp-, Ufirtj I pio! {runs into Fitzdan- 
 glb's arms — screams ilOtjftt'i/) Ah ! who are you. Sir ? what 
 is your business here ? How did you get into this room ? 
 
 FiTZ. Hush ! 
 
 RosK. Eh ; why, I declare it is the Honourable Mr. 
 Filzdangle, Arabella Fitzjames' adorer! 
 
 FiTz. Say rather your adorer ! ' ' 
 
 RosK. Mine! '' ^ *' • * 
 
 FiTZ. Yes; for your sweet sake Fve broken off with her 
 altogether; I leave town to-night for our embassy at Vienna, 
 «nc], if you consent to accompany me — 
 
 Rose, {with raillerf) Indeed ! Fm very much obliged to 
 you, Fm sure ; {with indignation) and pray. Sir, what have 
 you ever seen in my conduct to lead you to suppose that— 
 
 DuF. {without) Rqs0»| 
 
 Rose. Ah ! Papa's coming : for Heaven's sake. Sir, leave 
 me — leave the room this instant, |<V^ if he were to see you 
 here — 
 
 FiTz. Y'ou don't mean to say that he would refuse such 
 an offer ? 
 
 Rose. Unless you wish to ma^e your exit through the 
 window, Fd advise you not to repeat it to Mm. Go, Sir ; 
 and never again dare to— (crow b^ore Mm and ^o up) Ah! 
 'tis too late, he is here ! 
 
•C. I.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT 
 
 Enter Dufard, Boor 2 b. l. II. 
 
 DuF. (Declaiming) " Oiii, c'est Agamemnon, c'est Ion roi qui 
 t't'ceil/e — 
 Fieiix, reconnais la voLv quifrappe ton oreille." 
 
 nr/iile recidng, lie crosses to Hose's chamber — not teeing her 
 
 or Fitzdanqle) 
 
 Bit done — Rosey, I ave finish to black your toser pair of 
 boots; oh ! quels amours de pcliies botles ! make haste, Miss, 
 and we shv-J? oco see Madeinoiselle Fitzjames dis raornin. 
 (FiTZDANGLB crosses behind to L.) She have pronaisc us her 
 protection and — do you hear me, Miss ? 
 
 Rose, (c.) Yes, Papa, yes, . . • 
 
 BuF. (sees her) Ah, you are dere ! 
 
 Ro3B. (aside to Fitzdanqle, icho has concealed himselj be* 
 hind her) Leave me. Sir. 
 
 Firz. (to h r, aside) Indeed I shall not. . i 
 
 DuF. Oh, dat good Miss Fitzjames ; she have not you 
 talent, my child, hut she is rich and fashionable, and she 
 shall procure you a de'but ; and den, once you come out, no 
 more of struggle and of misere, you sail ave twenty pound 
 of new gown every week, and you sail keep always a little 
 soup and a corner of de fire for ton vieux papa, eh, bien ? 
 
 KosB. Oh yes, dear father. 
 
 DuF. Bien, kiss me — (sees Fitzdanglk) Tiens ! un incounul 
 Good morning, Sare ! 
 
 FiTz. (bowing) Good morning to you, Sir : how d'ye do, 
 Sir? 
 
 DuF. Good morning, how you do? (aside to Ross) 
 Who de devil is he } 
 
 Rose, (to herself) What shall I say ? I dare not tell him. 
 {To DuFARu) It is a young man — who — who — 
 
 DuF. Ah, it is a young man ! 
 
 FiTZ. I have the honor to be an artiste. Sir, an artiste 
 like yourself and your charming daughter. , . , j 
 
 Dirp. Aha ! you play de conwdie ? 
 
 FiTZ. No, Sir, not exactly ; 1 play the cornet, ray name 
 is Piston. I play the cornet in Monsieur Baton's orchestra. 
 
 DuF. De cornet I ah, I Itiiow him — 1 know de corneL 1 
 know him veil ; la, la, la, l^w la, la, &c. (imitating) 
 
 Rose, (aside) Ah, how he is fibbing. 
 
 DuF. (crosses to centre) Mon cher camarade, I am delightfiU 
 to se« jroa« you sbuU stop and dine wiz u«« 
 
 
:il' 
 
 \ > 
 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 £•«. I. 
 
 RoSB. (aside to DurARu) Papa, there's nothing in the 
 house ! 
 
 Dur. So mosh de better, he ehall ?end for aomcting 
 and stand treat. 
 
 FiTZ. Excupe me, Sir, and allow me to explain the busi- 
 ness which brought me here. I come to — to ofler your 
 lovely daughter an engagement. 
 
 DuF. Saperlotte I I am ver much oblige to you. Monsieur 
 Piston ; and so is my Rose, I am certain — n'est oe pas^ jnon 
 
 RosB. (embarrassea) Y-yes — yes — Sir ! 
 
 FiTZ. And a very good engngemen* tQot 
 
 DuF. Indeed — where ? — In London ." 
 
 FiTz. No ! — 
 
 DuF. En province ? — In de country ? 
 
 FiTZ. (markedly, regarding Rose attentively) No — abroad— 
 on the continent, and, if MAdemoiselle will consent to start 
 to-morrow— 
 
 DuF. Mr. Piston, I tank you ver mosh — mais it is de 
 dream of my life to make come out dis child in dis grand 
 cite—For dat I uve struggle— for dat I ave pinch— for dat 
 I ave starve, and oat she shall come, n'est cepas, mon enfant t 
 
 RoSB. Oh ! yes, yes, Papa — it is my most ardent wish. 
 
 DuF. Look at dat child, Mr. Piston. Why, do you know, 
 Sare, that from only hearing her friend, Miss Fitzjames, two 
 or three times through the new part that lady is going to 
 play at one of your teatres to-night, my little girl can 
 repeat every line of it. Ah ! she will make a most aston* 
 ishing success. 
 
 FiTZ. (aside) Poor old maniac ! (to him) But, my dear Sir, 
 suppose she should be hissed ! 
 
 DuF. JSh bien ! suppose she shall. Ecouiez, monsieur, I ave 
 play all de first part in Tragedie, Comedie, Opera aad Balle^^' 
 and moi, Achille Talma Dufard, I ave been hiss for five and 
 thirty year. 
 
 FiTz. Well, it hasn't killed you yet. 
 
 DuF. Bah ! I mind him no more as de boz of de fly— > 
 mais, ven it comes to de orange peel — parbleu / it is a leetle 
 too mosh. Et puis, M. Piston, when she is come out I sail 
 come out also. 
 
 FiTZ. You ! 
 
 Vvw* Ggrtainemenit-^yf hy not?— yoa like deartitte all 
 
•0. I.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 Monsieur 
 paSf mon 
 
 ibroad-*- 
 : to start 
 
 it is de 
 18 grand 
 -for dat 
 etijant t 
 wish. 
 M know, 
 les, two 
 joing to 
 girl can 
 ; aston* 
 
 e fly— 
 a leetle 
 1 1 sail 
 
 dc better when doy what you cull break your English — you 
 run after them a great deal more when they have a foreijrn 
 accent— 'Viovv , I uve a little accent myself, it w not mo?h, hut 
 I av'i an accent — so, when 1 tippear in Macbct, I sail give 
 de, what you call, go by to Mr. Macready. 
 
 FiTZ. In Macbeth ! 
 
 DuK. Yes, Save, in Macbct or Hamlet— I have not make 
 up my mind which, (fjincfi an imitation oj Macreadi/ in one 
 of the .sodloijmes, but with Ii'cnch accent) — Dcre — how you 
 find dat ? 
 
 FiTZ. You may call it breaking the Englisli, but I call it 
 Diacadiimizing it. 
 
 RosK. Hush 1 I think I hear somebody coming up stairs. 
 Papa! 
 
 Ahabklla. (lolthouC) What! higher up still! — how very 
 drcaddd I 
 
 RosK. 'Tia Arabella's voice 1 
 
 FiTZ. {anide) The deuce it is ! 
 
 Arab, {without) Dear me ! I'm quite out of brc; h I 
 
 DuF. Ah! mon dieu / \t is de great Miss Fitzjames— 
 pardon, camarade. Ji,vit Dvvaku, u.f, 
 
 FiTZ. Arabella here! If she sees me, I am lost ! 
 
 Rose. Put, I thought you had quarrelled and parted } 
 
 FiTZ. Yes, yes, but slie loves me to dist ictiun, and, if 
 she finds me with you, sheM tear my eyes out, and i/onrs as 
 well. I must fly, but where ? — Ah ! this way ! {crosses n. 
 towards Rosens chamber) 
 
 RosR. No ! — that is my room, Sir ! 
 
 FiTZ. So much the belter. 
 
 Rose. But you'll find a door which leads on to the 
 Btaircase — 
 
 FiTz. I shall not leave the house, my angd. 
 
 Ejcit FiTZDANGLE Joor 2 K. n. 
 
 Rose. Upon my word I — Did ever anybody hear of such 
 a thing ? 
 
 Re-enter Dupard conducting Arabklla, d. in v. 
 
 DuF. Entrez, Mademoiselle, entrez I and permit me to 
 introduce to you — {looking I'ound) VA\ ! — where is dat ^I. 
 Piston } 
 
 Rose. He has gone, Papa! {to Arabella) Oh! I feel 
 10 much obliged o you for coming ! 
 
II 
 
 8 
 
 THE FIRST Nir.IIT. 
 
 (■0. 
 
 Arab. Pray don't mention it ! Well, you arc tolerably 
 Iodised here — it isn't very stylish. 
 l)ur. Non — not very. 
 
 Arab. But it really looks vastly comfortable. 
 DuF. Oui — c\'st ver comfortable. 
 K&8B. Ah ! everybody is not so rich as you, you know. 
 Arau. True! — I've nothing to complain of as far as 
 money ii concerned ; but, I'm very unhappy, my dear, for 
 all that. 
 
 Dup. ((jallautli/) Unhappy! — So young! — So handsome ! 
 — wid all the world at your feet ! — Impossible ! 
 
 Arab. Indeed, but I am, though ; for the monster whom I 
 loved — you know him, my dear — the Honourable Mr, 
 Fitzdanglc, has picked a quarrel with nie, and vows he'll 
 never see me again. 
 
 DiJP. Oh, dear! — Oh, dear ! — dat is bad! — Ma Joi — I 
 should be mosh sorry for any honourable man to make any 
 love to my Kosey. 
 
 RosB. (/o herself) My poor Papa I — If he did but know — 
 Arab. And the worst of it is that the creature has an 
 immense fortune — £7,000 a year, at least. But, I have a 
 rehearsal at two o'clock for the new piece which is coming 
 out to-night. You wrote to me saying that you wished to 
 see roe. 
 
 DuF. I had that honor, Mademoiselle, and it vas to re- 
 call to your memory the promise you vas so kind to make. 
 Arab. About recommending Hose to an engagement. 
 Well, I think I can manage it. 
 
 Dup. Oh ! Mademoiselle ! — ten million thousand tanks I 
 Arab. Yes; I have already spoken about her, and I 
 think I may venture say that there will be an engagement 
 open for her next week. 
 
 Rossaw^DuF. {enraptured) Oh ! 
 
 Arab. As one of the supernumeraries in the forthcoming 
 ballet. 
 
 IloBB. {petrified) The ballet I— • 
 Dup. Supernumerary! 
 
 Arab. It isn't a very large salary, it is true, but, m these 
 hard times, seven shillings a week is beti^?' than nothing, 
 you knoKTr 
 Dup. Seven shilling ! 
 Arab, Aud, as for yourself, they've promised to make a& 
 
t"c. f. 
 
 •0. 1.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT, 
 
 opening for you in front of the house, as one of the ohcck- 
 takers. 
 Dur. Checktaker! — an artiste — chccktuker!— iSf«c/*<? ton- 
 
 Akab. Why not ! I'm sure it is a very respectable retreat 
 for an old actor. 
 
 DuK. {with forced cnlmnPHH) C'fist poHsU/le ? ?)init, voyez vou.%. 
 Mademoiselle — I am u coiiwilii-n — I am proud of my pro- 
 fcirsiou — artiste I vill live — •artiste I vill die — hut the means 
 to live vill not fail to me when my daughter shuli have 
 made her dettui ! 
 
 Akab. Made her dSitt ! — Where, I pray ? 
 
 UuF, Where V — Here — in London — whore you are f 
 
 Arab, {riaintj suddcnlif) London ! — where I am '.—upon 
 my word — such pretensions as these — 
 
 Rose* Pretensions ! — what pretension is there in it, Miss 
 Fitzjames ? Have you not come out, and succeeded } 
 
 Arab. I ! — yes ! — but that is a very different thing, my 
 good girl — I believe / have talent ! 
 
 DuF. Qjettimj warm) Yes— you have — and modesty also 
 — But, Mademoiselle, I had suppose that wiz your great 
 interest in your new Theatre — 
 
 Arab. In my theatre ! and, in my parts, I suppose ! — 
 
 DuF. Well— what for not? 
 
 Arab. Ha! ha! ha! — upon my word — ha! ha! ha! 
 iiic ".>•» «s truly, laughable — and in my parts, too— ha! ha I 
 ha I Why, the man is a perfect idiot ? Do you think the 
 audience would allow it ? In my parts, indeed — a little 
 minikin, pale faced chit like that I 
 
 DuF. A what ? 
 
 Arab, {fiercely') Enough, enough. Sir! — Since such are 
 your ideas, I'm very glad you have taken the trouble to 
 make me aware of them, and, I have the honor to wish you 
 both a very good morning — I should like to see you play 
 Lady Macbeth — \n my parts, ix\i\y — Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Exit D. in V. lauyhing, 
 
 DuF. The impertinent I — Ah ! I vould mosh like to see 
 you in her Teatre. for your talent should take away all de 
 part from her back. 
 
 Rose. Yes, and I could take away her love too, if I chose. 
 
 DvF. (aHoniihed) Comment ? 
 
10 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [sc. u« 
 
 KosB. Yes, I could, »'or this young nobleman-^the 
 Honourable Mr. Fitzdangle, loves me — he has told me so, 
 and offered to run away with mc. 
 
 DuK, Run away viz you! — run away vis my child- 
 vis my Rosey from her old fader ! 
 
 Rose. Nay, Papa, you needn't be afraid, for I don't love 
 him, and it wasn't with my good will, I assure you, that he 
 was here just now. 
 
 DuF. Here just now! What! the young man! the 
 Piston ? 
 
 RosK. Yes, that was he, Mr. Fitzdangle himself; but I 
 Bent him away. 
 
 Dop. Mr. Fitzdangle, de friend of Miss Fitzjaraes? Ah I 
 bah ! but he did not go by me on de stairs — where he is } 
 dat Piston ? 
 
 Rose. He — he — went there! (pointing to he?' door) 
 
 DuF. D'lahle ! Exit into her chamher^ r. 2 b. 
 
 Rose. But, father ! Oh, mercy upon me ! if he should 
 find him there ! 
 
 DuF. {I'eturning, a sheet of paper in his hand) He has 
 gone ! de oder door was open, and he was right to go ! 
 Saperlotte ! But he has writ someting on this paper which 
 was lay on the table. 
 
 Rose. A letter? 
 
 DuF. Yes, only dere is no address on him, tois ma 
 hiche. 
 
 Rose. I suppose he thought the address was unnecessary, 
 (taking it and readinrf) " I love you, and you only — meet 
 me to night at Dartford, the first stage on the road to 
 Dover, where I shall be waiting for you. If you do not 
 come I'll have you hissed off every stage in Europe. Yours, 
 as you treat me, Bertie Fitzdangle." — What audacity ! 
 
 DuF. What impertinence ! 
 
 " Oh ! raga ! Oh, dcsespoir ! Oh ! vieillesse ennemie V* 
 ** N'ai je pas taut vecii (/up pour cette infaniie? " 
 
 I will tear him to pieces, {about to tear letter) niais atleiidez — 
 I have one idea I — yes — why not ? there is no address. 
 {goes up to table, rapidli/ /okts letter) 
 
 Rose. What are you going to do. Papa ? 
 
 DuF. Give me my coat — she has insult me — she has 
 iiumiliftte and defy us — mais nout verrom f — viie — une env^* 
 
M. Il.l 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT* 
 
 n 
 
 lope [puts letter in envelope) And now. Miss Fitzjames. mind 
 your eye ! 
 
 Rose. Where are you going to send it ? 
 
 DuF. Silence, dnuf^hter, silence / The old lion i s rouse to 
 defend his cub — To Miss Arabella Fitzjames, Curzon Strcec, 
 May Fair — give me my coat, {crosses to L.) my best coatl 
 
 Rose. You have but one, Papa ! 
 
 DuF. Ver well — I sail malce hira do. (jiuis on his co.«) 
 Come, we go out together. 
 
 Rose, {putting on her bonnet) Go out ! but vrhat for ? 
 
 DuF. {all rapidly) You sail come out at de tHdtre / 
 
 Rose. But when ? < • 
 
 Dup. This ver night ! , 
 
 Rose. In what part? , - 
 
 DuF. De part of Arabella Fitzjames 
 
 Rose. Arabella's! 
 
 DuF. " Allans y mafille ch&ie, void lejour heureuXf 
 Qui va conclure enjln nos desseins glorieux. 
 Allans ! oui, je le veiix, llfuut me satisfaire ! 
 It faut affranchir Rome ! Ilfaut venger tan ptre." 
 
 Exeunt Dufard and Rose d. in f. 
 
 Scene W.^^The Stage of the Theatre^ somewhat in disorder t 
 as if previous to a rehearsal. Actors, Actkesses, 
 IUllet, Chorus, ^c, discovered; some seated at back, 
 others walking to and fro. 
 
 Enter Tiieopuilus Vamp {the Prompter) l. h. with hi^ 
 
 watch in his hand. 
 
 Vamp. A quarter-past two; rehearsal not begun; and 
 this is the first night of our new piece — " The Virgin >l 
 California." I^ess noise, ladies and gentlemen. Ah! her3 
 comes Mr. Fiat. 
 
 Flat, {without R.) Tell them they must call again to- 
 morrow. I'm busy on the stage, and cannot see anybod'/ 
 to-day. {Enters R.) Well, Mr. Vamp, are you all rea'i/ 
 to begin ? Where's Mr. Parnassus ? — where'a the author', 
 lie ought to be here. 
 
 Vamp. He has gone to see after Miss Fitzjames, Sir J 
 »he has not yet arrived, though everybody was called at 
 half- past one. 
 
 Flat. Well, at all eventSi you can g«t the stage reactyi 
 ind the eceae set. 
 
12 
 
 THE PmST NiGHt. 
 
 [rc. if. 
 
 Vamp. Yes, Sir. Now, Brace, look sharp. Clear the 
 stage, ladies and gentlemen ; and clear the wings, too, if 
 you please ; and we shall soon be able to get on. 
 
 The Actors ctnd Actresses exeunt u h. A Landscape 
 
 Scene is put on. 
 
 Flat. Now, quick, quick ! do look alive about it. Are 
 all the gentlemen of the orchestra in their places ? 
 
 Vamp, (looking in the orchestra) Yes, Sir! That is— all 
 but the drum, I think. 
 
 Flat. Coniound that drummer— absent again ! There's 
 half the efTect of the piece to come out ol his drum, {to 
 orchestra generally) By the bye, gentlemen of the orchestra, 
 I shall be glad if you'll pay as much attention to your dress 
 as possible — body coats, and white cravats, and that sort of 
 thing ; and if those who haven't 'em could cultivate a pair of 
 mustachios or a beard, I should feel exceedingly obliged— 
 vou've no idea what a difTerence it makes with the public ; 
 and if your hair don't curl naturally, get it friz'd — it's half 
 the battle to look fierce and foreign, (turning to stage) 
 Now, come — can't we begin ? Where are all the people ? 
 Where's Mr. Timkins ? — he's discovered in the opening 
 scene. 
 
 Vamp. He's not come yet, Sir. 
 
 Flat. Forfeit him ! And Mr. Folair f 
 
 Vamp. Not here. Sir. 
 
 Flat. Forfeit him ! And Miss Neal ? 
 
 Vamp. Not here. Sir. 
 
 Flat. Forfeit her ! 
 
 Vamp. And Miss Fitzjamcs — 
 
 Flat. Forfeit her 1 Eh ! — stop — no-— never mind ! 
 
 Voices behind r. 
 
 Flat. Eh ! who is that } Is that she ? 
 Vamp, (loohinrj off) No, Sir. I fancy it is somebody 
 who wants to see you. 
 
 Flat. I can't see anybody. I'm busy. 
 
 Enter Dufard and Rosk r. 
 
 Dup. Pardon me I but I wish to speak wix de 
 manager. 
 
 Flat, {takimi the " Times'^ J rvm his pocket, and beginmng 
 to read) The manager — the manager is not ber^?. 
 
io. t(.] 
 
 tHE ^IRST UlGttT. 
 
 13 
 
 DuF. Excuse me — but (ley told me dat he was here. 
 
 Flat. They told you wrong, then. He's not in the 
 Theatre. 
 
 Vamp, (aside) Admirable coolness ! He's an extra- 
 ordinary creature ! 
 
 DuF. (io Flat) I beg pardon, Sir, but I think you labour 
 under a lie. 
 
 Ross, (aside to Dufard) Why, that's he, Papa! — that's 
 he himself! 
 
 DoF. Ah— bah! I sail tickel him. (To Flat) Moh" 
 aieiir Manager, I— 
 
 Flat. Have I not told you, my good Sir, that the 
 manager's not here ? 
 
 DuF. Ah, Monsieur, pardon ; but there are men in the 
 world so celebrated da*- dey cannot conceal themselves ;— 
 now, the most clevere manager in London is one of dose 
 mans. 
 
 Flat. Really, now — 
 
 DuF. Approach, approach, my child, and make your 
 best curtsey to de first directeur in Europe. 
 
 Rose, (cnrtseyihcj) I esteem it no slight honour, Sir, be- 
 lieve me I 
 
 Flat. But, really, I am so excessively busy— 
 
 Dup. (aside to Ross) Hush ! FU tickel hiro. (aloud to 
 Flat) Of course, Sare, of course you are. Our cousin^ the 
 editor, told us he feared you would be ! 
 
 Flat, (aside) The deuce ! — his cousin an editor ! (rise to L.) 
 
 Rose, (astonished, to Dufard) Our cousin? 
 
 DuF. (aside, to Rose) Hosh ! Tats toi — hosh ! I sail 
 tickel him. 
 
 Flat. Well, Sir, what is your business with me ? 
 
 DuF. (to Rose aside) I ave tickel him, you see. (to 
 Flat) Look at that wonderful child, Sare — a child vich I 
 did bring up — vich I did educate — vich I did create on 
 purpose for de stage. Beautiful, as you see ; and with an 
 immense talent, as you sail see when you ave engage her. 
 
 Flat. Eh, what ? 
 
 DuF. At least, dat is de opinion of her cousin, de editor 
 *— dat vat he say. 
 
 Flat. The deuce ! Is this cousin e<f yours connected 
 with one of the large journals ? 
 
 DuF. Ob, yes I very large**eaormou8|— -much larger 
 
1 -^f 
 
 14 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [^c. It* 
 
 tlian that you have in your hand; and he make love at my 
 child — he want to marry her ! 
 
 Flat, {tcith great courtesy) Humph ! I'm very sorry, 
 my dear Sir, excessively sorry — but, unfortunately, my 
 company is quite made up. 
 
 DuF. (in a lo70, confidential voice) Yes — but if you happen 
 to be disappointed, and, by chance, wanted anybody in a 
 moment to fill up } 
 
 Flat. But I don't want anybody. 
 
 DuF. (aside) Jh, diahle ! {aloud) She act everyting, 
 Sare ; she peform everyting ; she sing — she dance — she 
 pantomime — she play de Comcdie — de Trayedie — de Opera, 
 and all for ten pound a week ! 
 
 Flat. My dear Sir, I am truly sorry, but I really have 
 no vacancy at present — I have too many ladies already. 
 
 DuF. And, though I say ten, she vill agree for eight- 
 eight pounds to have the pleasure of being wid u ; will 
 you not, my child ? 
 
 EosK. That I would in so excellent a Theatre, with so 
 kind and polite a manager. 
 
 DuF. Kind and polite 1 he is mosh more dan dat — he is 
 mosh more as dat — he is de true friend of all artistes — he 
 is de fader and moder of all artistes— Oh, wonderful man ! 
 come, you sail engage for six pounds — eh ? 
 
 Flat. I can only once more repeat that it is impossible 
 for me to — 
 
 DuF. Well, we will make it de five— de round sum — de 
 bank-note — five — just to begin wid — you are engaged for 
 £5, my child 1 
 
 Fl\t. (losing patience) Sir, for the last time, permit me to 
 say that I must decline, (aside — loalking away) Gabbling 
 old fool ! 
 
 Vamp. Ah, here they are at last! 
 
 Flat. Who? 
 
 Vamp. Miss Fitzjames and the author. 
 
 DuF. Malediction I (crosses to l. and Rose — aside) She 
 cannot have receive the letter I 
 
 Flat. Now, then, places ! places I 
 
 DuF. (going) Come, my child, come wid your fader to 
 our cousin, de editor — to our cousin, de editor. 
 
 Call Boy. (l. h.) The drum hftsa't come yet, Sirt 
 
 Flat. Forfeit him, thent 
 
■c. ii.l 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 15 
 
 DuF. {returning eagerly) Eh! you want de drums — I vill 
 be big drum ! 
 
 Flat. Can you play 'em ? 
 
 DuF. If I can play him ? parbleu / I ave play an air wi« 
 variations at the Academie Royale ! ask her cousin, de editor! 
 
 Flat. Well, get into the orchestra, then. 
 
 DuF. And, my child, come and sit by my side, {aalde to 
 her) So you can remark all de business of de scene without 
 her seeing you. {to Lkadkr) You vill have de kindness — {he 
 hands Rosk domi, into the orchestra) 
 
 KosK. {as she goes down) Aii, she is going to play the 
 part though, Papa ! 
 
 DuF. Tlien I will show you what I can do. {in orchestra — 
 to Flat) Dites done. Monsieur manager 1 (Flat stoops down to 
 listen) As it is to you, she sail come for four pound ! 
 
 Flat, {rushing aioay) Go to the devil ! 
 
 Enter Arabella Fitzjames, ^' Hyacinth Parnassus, r.h. 
 
 Come, come. Miss Fitzjames, you are half an hour after your 
 time. 
 
 Arab. You had better forfeit me ! (crosses to l.) 
 
 Parnassus, {aside to Flat) Have a care, my dear Sir { 
 she has quarrelled with Fitzdunglc, and she's in a most 
 dreadful ill-humour ! 
 
 Arab. For my part, I can't understand why there was 
 any rehearsal at all this morning — tiring people out on the 
 first night of a new piece, when there's no necessity for it. 
 
 DuF. What airs she give herself ! Prut ! 
 
 KosE. Yes, indeed ! 
 
 Flat. Come, begin, begin — for mercy's sake, begin ! 
 
 Vamp, {to orchestra) The opening music, gentlemen, if 
 you please. Now, Miss Fitzjames, you come in from third 
 entrance right hand. 
 
 Arab, {superciliously) Thank you, I know I do ! (Dufa ro 
 imitates her) 
 
 Music commences in orchestra — Symphony to Recitative. 
 
 Hose, {through musics despondingly) She's going to play 
 the part, Papa ! 
 
 DuF. {while making a note on the drum) Biahle f yes, I 
 could tear my head from my hair 1 {in his passion he strikes 
 the drum very energetically — Leader looks round at him — he 
 continues rolling, looking closely at the part which is on (he desk 
 kejore hinO 
 

 I !'i 
 
 f *■: 
 
 il ■il 
 
 «i 
 
 IS 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [•0 II. 
 
 Parn. {jq Arabella as she jcalh down) My deaF Madam, 
 you don't walk right, 
 
 ])uF. (a,side) Becauj-e she got bandy legs. 
 
 Parn. You don't walk in time to the music. 
 
 Arab. Sir. I shall walk as I please. 
 
 DuF. (aside) I wish she would walk her chalk ! (he rolls 
 the drum very loud^-'Lv.AVRu, looks roii/id) All right 1 all 
 right 1 
 
 Second part of Symplioiii/ cowmences-^—'Dv faud strikes the 
 
 dnm loudly aycdn. 
 
 Parn. There is no drum there. 
 
 Dup. Pardon — dere is two dru ns here. 
 
 Sy'Diphouy goes on, 
 AIR. — Ararblla, 
 
 Ah I yes ; his faith I will not doubt ) 
 
 He'll to his troth be true: 
 And soon, at yonder sacred shrine, 
 
 We shall our vows renew. 
 
 Ah ! yes ; &c. 
 
 Enter George (with a letter). 
 
 Georor, (Call Boy) Here's a letter for you, Ma'am. 
 {gives it to Arabella) 
 
 Arab, "For me.' (taking it) 
 
 Flat, (rising) How dare you bring any letters here, Sir, 
 during rehearsal } Exit Boy. 
 
 Dup. (aside to Rose) Alia ! roila la lettre ! voila la leitre I 
 
 Arab, (to herself, having opened it) Heavens! 'tis from 
 ■ Fitzdangle ! (to Flat, sternly) I suppose I may be allowed 
 to read it ? 
 
 Flat. And stop the rehearsal again; certainly not, Ma'aml 
 
 Arab, (half aside) Ugh ! the brute ! (keeps letter in her 
 hand) 
 
 Parn. Now, pray proceed, my dear ; we've passed your 
 Bong ; begin the recitative. 
 
 Arab, (aside — glancing at the letter) He loves me ! he 
 loves me still ! 
 
 Rose, (aside to Dufard) She's going to rehearse, Papa. 
 
 DvF. You sail see 1 
 
 ! 
 
•€. II.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 17 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Arab. " Now 1 must hasten to weave the crown of white 
 roses, symbols of that innocence — 
 
 DuF. {amle) Oh! 
 
 Arab. "Which presides o'er our happy solemnity." 
 {TJiree or four bars of sojt, melodious music ; she glances at the 
 letter by stealth while crossing stage) — (aside) He will be 
 waiting for me to-nipht at Dartford. 
 
 IlosK. (as before) But she is going on, Papa ! 
 
 DuF. You sail see — you sail see ! 
 
 Arab, (rehearsing) " Ah, am I worthy of this honour P— 
 yes— for have I not sworn to remain pure." 
 
 DuF. (aside) Oh I pure ! 
 
 Arab, (to herself , as before) But I act to night — whatever 
 shall I do ? (rehearsing) " And I will hasten to the Temple, 
 and renew that vow so sacred." (Music. She goes up stagey 
 rehearses again.) "But who is that I see, sitting near my 
 father's house r" 
 
 Parn. (correcting her) Cottage, my dear. 
 
 Arab, (tartly) House or cotlage — it is just the same 
 thing. 
 
 Parn. Not at all ! 
 
 Arab. A cottage is a house, I believe ! 
 
 Parn. Yes ; but a house is not always a cottage. 
 
 Plat. Of course, (rises) A mare is a horse, but a horse 
 is not a mare ! Besides — we're here — in California. 
 
 Arab. In California 1 (looking at scene) It looks, really, 
 more like Chelsea water-works. 
 
 DuF. Bon! — good! 
 
 Arab, (working herself into a ragt-) "With your observa* 
 tions and your criticisms, it's enough to make one ill. 
 
 Paun. (soothing her) Nay, nay, my dear Miss Pitzjames. 
 
 DuF. (as before) Aha! here comes de <'.r/?/o«/c;« / 
 
 AiuB. (to Parnassus) Don't touch me, Sir ! Oh I oh ! 
 I declare I feel so faint — so deathly sick — oh ! 
 
 Flat. Ah ! it only wanted this to complete the business. 
 
 Vamp. A chair, here — bring a chair ! 
 Flat, (expostulating) Now, pray, my good Misa Fill* 
 James — 
 
 Parn. Get some Eau de Cologne. 
 VAMr. Has any one a smelling-bottle ? 
 
! 
 
 11''' 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 ?! 
 
 If 
 
 « I 
 
 THE PTRST NIGHT. 
 
 [so. It. 
 
 Flat, (vexedlf/) llcuily, such a scene as this for a mere 
 ca))ricc — 
 
 Arab, (starts it/) s/ulJi'iih/ — in(/i)/Nantly) Caprice, Sir! 
 
 DuK. {al/'ih's bloic on drum) Bon ! 
 
 Arab. You are an impertinent fellow, Sir, and I'll 
 never play in your Theatre again. So, good morning to 
 you. {goitKj) 
 
 PaRn. Jiut, madarae, this is frightful ! 
 
 Flat. Horrible I 
 
 Vamp. Disgraceful! 
 
 Dup. {as before) Beautiful! 
 
 Tlufj walk vp and down scpiahblivg. 
 Plat. You had better take care. Think what the public 
 will say. 
 
 Ahad. The public may say what they choose — they 
 ought to be pretty well used to it by this time. Farewell, 
 Sir! (pmhiiig Parnassus atcoy) Stand out of the way, 
 fellow ! {going to Call-boy, u-ho is at the ii. wing) Call my 
 carriage, Call-boy 1 {pmhiitg him (^ R. h. and exit after him 
 in a fury) 
 
 Flat, (/o Parnassus) After her— after herj persuade 
 her to return, or I am a ruined man. 
 
 Ilxit Parnassus r. h. 
 
 Dup. {calling to Flat) Non ! Monaieur Manager ; you 
 are save. 
 
 Flat. Hollo ! who the devil said that } i . 
 
 Dup. {beating both drums loudly) De big drum ! Cest 
 moL 
 
 Flat What.? 
 
 DuF. La Fitzjames abandon you — but my child remain, to 
 save you from de j^ky like an angel she descend ; get up, 
 my child, {he hands Rosk up from the orchestra) 
 
 Flat. Psha ! you're mad 1 
 
 Dup. {yet till (j vp from orchestra) Bu tout ! she knows de 
 part ; she can repeat it dis instant ; she Ciin perform it dis 
 moment, if you will. 
 
 Rose. Oh, yes, Sir, I can, indeed I 
 
 Flat. The deuce you can ! well, what think you, Vamp ? 
 
 Vamp. Anything is better than postponing the piece, Sir, 
 
 Duf^ Postpone ^e piece I you can't postpone de/mce/ 
 
fw 
 
 [so. 
 
 It. 
 
 for a mere 
 
 e, Sir ! 
 
 
 and 
 
 I'll 
 
 ormng 
 
 to 
 
 M. III.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHl. 
 
 he public 
 
 se— they 
 Farewell, 
 he way, 
 Call my 
 f/ier Mm 
 
 persuade 
 
 us R. H. 
 
 er; you 
 I Ce»t 
 
 nam, to 
 get up, 
 
 ows de 
 n it dis 
 
 ^'"amp ? 
 Je, Sir. 
 €cet 
 
 Flat. That's true. AVcll, I agree; your daughter shall 
 |,]fty it — but stay, we must have the author's consent. 
 
 Dur. Oh, I will get dat— I will settle him I 
 
 Flat. I warn you — he's a very particular sort of man. 
 
 DuF. Cest cgal — I sail tickel him! 
 
 Flat. Lose no time ; he left the Theatre when he found 
 that Miss Fitzjames would not listen to him. You had 
 better call on him at his house. 
 
 DuF. I will ! {crosses to a.) Come along, Rosey. Now, 
 Mr. Manager, of course you will have de child's name 
 painted in letters bigger as nobody else ; put her age, only 
 fifteen years and a quarter — she is a leetle more, but dat 
 does not signify. Come along, my child. 
 
 Ross. Oh, dear! if I should fail! 
 
 DuF. You fail ! But screw your courage to de sticke)'- 
 place, and be dam if you do fail ! (strikes an afiifitde, then 
 exits with Rose R. ii. The rest go off various icai/s. Scene 
 closes) 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in the House of Mr. Parnassus. 
 Enter (l. ii.) Parnassvs, followed by Fitzdanolb. 
 
 Parn. I'm excessively glad that I happened to meet you, 
 my dear Mr. Fitzdangle, for I think it is in your power to 
 do me a most vital service. 
 
 FiTz. If I can — command me. 
 
 Parn. You'll scarcely believe it, but Miss Fitzj<»me9 abso* 
 lutely refuses to play her part in my new piece to-night, and 
 has left the Theatre, vowing she'll never enter it again. 
 
 FiTz. I'm not at all surpiised at that. 
 
 Parn. But, you having most influence with her— • 
 
 FiTZ. Not at all. We have quarrelled. 
 
 Parn. What — seriously ? 
 
 FiTZ. Parted, never to meet again. We've done it H 
 dozen times before, but, this time, we mean it. 
 
 Parn. The devil ! 
 
 William, (jcithouth. h.) But you can't go in, Sir! 
 
 DuFAHD. {without l. h.) But I must. I am the stage* 
 manager of the Theatre. 
 
 Parn. The manager ! 
 
 FiTZ. {to himself) Surely that is the old Frenchman's 
 voice. If they don't shut that old bird up he'll bite some* 
 body, {he reliret a little) 
 
 M^^^* 
 
I, { 
 
 i 
 
 
 ii 
 
 30 THE FIRST NIGHT. [sc. iil 
 
 Enter Dufard a?id Rosa l. h. 
 
 Parw. Why, this is not the — 
 
 Dup. No, Sarc ! — my name is Dufard — Achille Talma 
 Dufard, art isle dti Tltmlre Iranoais, 
 
 FiTz. {at hack — asi'le) What does he want here, I wonder? 
 
 Parn. Well, Sir ! 
 
 Dup. Oh, Sare — Monsieur — Monsieur — I pray you 
 grant us one moment to recover from the emotion w© 
 prove in entering this the Sanctuary of Genius. Advance, 
 ray child, advance, and make your most profound reverence 
 to the greatest drnmitic author of the age. {Rose curtseyH) 
 Anoder reverence '.u de iuodenic Shakspere. 
 
 FiTz. {asi(k) What the deuce is the old fox aiming at ? 
 
 Parn. Pray explain tlic purport of this visit. 
 
 DuF. (l. 11.) Pnnlon, Monsieur, de child explain it herself. 
 Compose yourself, mon enfant, Dat great man shall grant 
 you leetle dcinande — I can see it in his eye — in de middle of 
 de lightning of gtiiius dat piny around his head. Oh, mon dieu / 
 Oh ! how he is like Alexander Dumas — parle, mon enfant ! 
 
 Rose. (l. c.) The purport of our visit is this. Sir : your 
 piece cannot be played to-night for want of an actress, whom, 
 we hear, is suddenly taken ill, and I come to offer ray ser- 
 vices to replace her. 
 
 Parn. You ! 
 
 FiTZ. {adcanclnfj c.) Oh I this is really ridiculous ! 
 
 Rose, {seeing him) Ah ! 
 
 DuF. {to her) Dlnhle ! I tickel him too, if he not take care. 
 
 Parn. {to Fits.) Do you know this young person ? 
 
 FiTZ. Oh, yes, very well, {aside — to Rose) Have you not 
 got ray letter ? 
 
 Dup. {placing himself between them) Eh — letter ! — What 
 letter ? 
 
 FiTZ. {aside — to Parnassus) Not a word.— I'll explain -^'^ 
 bye and bye. 
 
 Parn. {to Rose) And you think you could play so in, 
 portant a part ? 
 
 Rose. Oh ! yes, Sir I I'm quits perfect in it, from having 
 heard ray friend. Miss Fitzjaraes, repeat it frequently ; and a 
 beautiful part it is. 
 
 FiTZ. {to Parnassus) My dear fellow, you surely never 
 would think of hazarding your reputation, and compromising 
 the success of your piece by au act of this sort. 
 
 ' 
 
|[80. HI. 
 
 ■c. in] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 21 
 
 |e Talma 
 I onder ? 
 
 lain oM 
 in. 
 
 DuK. (Jiercely) Mr. Piston ! — or rather Mr. Fit^dangle, 
 ^or I know you, Sure ! 1 suU tell this gentleman ae reason 
 fv vou ppcuk so — (crosses to r. c.) It is dat you want to carry 
 jir (ff from the Theatre, (to Parnassus) and prevent your 
 tit'cc from beinf^ perform, and rob you of your triumph and 
 ^oiir filcrv. — Oh ! wonderful man ! 
 
 FiTZ. Humbug ! 
 
 Dlf. It is true, Sure, and it is not de first time dat you 
 [are do the same tliiog. 
 
 FiTZ. I! 
 
 DuF. Yes, you ! At the first representation of his last 
 
 {new tragedy I saw you in one private box talking and 
 
 lauLjhing-, and blowing your nose to make a noise, and 
 
 sneezing and hissmg, and you put up your finger to your 
 
 friend beside you, just so. {taking a sight with finger to nose) 
 
 Pa UN. Why, damn it, Fitzdangle, I gace you that private 
 [box. 
 
 FiTZ, (crosses to r. c.) Upon my honor, I assure you, I — 
 \{t/tri/ fjiairrel going up. Parnassus co)nes down again centre) 
 
 Dup. Mr. Parnassus sail see and judiie for himself. Come, 
 my daughter, recite some of de 2^iece (Ross takes off 
 shawl, i)''C.) 
 
 FiTz. Recite what you will, I'm sure that the manager 
 will never give his consent. 
 
 DuF. Den you are mistake, for he has give him already. 
 Come, my daughter, recite tiie opening scene. 
 
 Fnz. Yes, yes, the opening is nothing ! 
 
 DuF. The opening is not nothing, Sare ? (to Fit:.) It is all 
 sublime ! 
 
 FiTZ. Who the djvil sa d it wasn't, (aside) Poor Parnassus 
 —he bolievcs every word of it. 
 
 Permit me to hold the ]M.S. (taking M.S. from 
 ssLs) Oh! I will take care of him. I know he is 
 woi lis weight in gold. Every word is adiamant (aside) I 
 tickii him now. (crosses to h.) Now, my daughter, and do 
 not forget, above all, to show Mr. Parnassus how beautiful 
 you }ue in dat part whore you find yourself very sick — go 
 on, my child— '^ay— I will give you de tail. 
 
 Parn. Th« le ! — there is no occasion for that — we don't 
 require the ' iry of the plot. 
 
 Dup. No, >— -de tail — de, what you call, "cue,** 
 
 Parn. Al ah I yes I— 
 
9% 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [so. 111. 
 
 4 
 
 Duf. (reading the M.S. -^declaims) Now for him, ** No, 
 love, dy tears^dy prayers are voice — zou will not fly with 
 me — I will remain ! (remarking on it) Ah ! beauiiful 1 splen- 
 did ! de common auteur would have said " I will stai/" — but 
 no— de great arthor put " I will r^mam" — beautiful! — go 
 on, my child. 
 
 RosB. {declaiming) Alonzo ! — dear Alonzo ! say not that 
 the sacrifice I nvade ior your safety has been made in vain— 
 oh ! — (tnovement o/" Parnassus) 
 
 DuF. {observing the movement) More strong upon the 
 Oh! my child I—" 0^ /"—lean upon your "OhT {with 
 great emphasis) 
 
 RosB. {continuing) Oh ! must I remind you that it was 
 to save you that I united myself to this demon — this fell 
 tiger I 
 
 Dvw. {to Rosk) Look at me — I am ze tiger ! 
 
 FiTZ. {to Parnassus) It is feeble, Sir !— it won't do ! 
 
 KosB. {continuing) That it was to preserve your life that 
 I coDSC^ed to share the pillow whereon his fiend-like head 
 reposes — becaure I knew that beneath that pillow lay the 
 key of your dungeon. 
 
 Parn. Lay a stress on the key. 
 
 DuF. Dat is what I tell her— lean upon de pillow !— 
 
 Parn. No, no— on the %— that is the point ! 
 
 DuF. Oh, yes !— but. as the key is under the pillow, if 
 vou lean on de pillow, you lean on de key — go on, my child I 
 
 RosB. Oh. flv !— fly, my Alonzo— I conjure you. fly ! 
 
 Dup. {declaiming reply) ^o, no— fly wid me, or here I 
 tiny— {remarking on it) Ah ! de vulgar auteur would have 
 Bay— ••I remain" — but de nan of genius say "I stay "— 
 *Ti8 wonderful !— go on, my child ! 
 
 RosK. {continuing) But, I am no longer worthy of you. 
 
 DuF. {as Ixfore) Yes — more worthy now as ever {stamp- 
 ing with his foot) bang ! — 
 
 FiTZ. Hullo '.—what's that ? , i r ^ t 
 
 DuF. Tis de cannon wich announce de break of day — I 
 play him on de drum at night. 
 
 Rosk. (continuing) Ah ! hear you not that soupd— they 
 
 come !— fly !-fly !-fly !— fly 1 ^ . ^ ^ , 
 
 Parn, iiruvo!— very good '.—very good, mdeedl 
 Dur. {stamping again) Bang ! , , t * 
 
 RosB. {as be/ore) Ah !— 'tis too late !— toolate I— too 
 
 late I— aU l (the tinki on chair) 
 
[80. III. 
 
 lim. "No,i 
 pt fly with I 
 '-'^^ I splen. 
 «/«^"— but 
 utiful !— go 
 
 ay not that 
 e in vain— 
 
 upon the 
 >/*/" (tcUh 
 
 that it was 
 —this fell 
 
 m*t u'o ! 
 ir life that 
 hke head 
 w lav the 
 
 )W I — 
 
 pillow, if 
 mv child I 
 u.'fly ! 
 or here I 
 »uld have 
 
 stay "— 
 
 )f you. 
 r {stump- 
 
 f day— I 
 d — they 
 
 •C. III.1 
 
 ¥!!E ^mST NIGHT* 
 
 91 
 
 Park. No— that's not exactly the thing* 
 
 FiTZ. Not at all-^not at all ! 
 
 Tarn, {to her) You throw a great deal of pathos, into 
 jit, my dear — but that last exclamation, " Ah !" required 
 linore energy — more fire— a sort ot scream, in fact. She is 
 liupposed to see the executioner coming. 
 
 Dup. {to Hose) Try him again, {to Parnassus) You 
 [gall ave him, Sare — do not tear. Now, my daughter— 
 
 KosE. {resumes) Oh! 'tis too late — too late— too late t 
 I ah ! {siiih again into chair) 
 
 Parn. No, that's not it precisely. 
 
 FiTZ. It is laughable, if done in that way. 
 
 Parn. {pulls his hair) 
 
 DuF. No, Sare, don't pull no more of your beautiful 
 black hair — {seeing Parnassus about to rw<?)one moment, one 
 moment ; now try him once more, more strong, you leetel 
 'fool. 
 
 KosK. Oh ! 'tis too late, too late ! (Dufard in his anxiety 
 \j)inchi's her, which makes her scream out the " Ah I") {She 
 tin/iS again into chair) 
 
 Parn. Bravo, bravissimo ! that's it — capital I excellent! 
 
 DuK. Far bleu f 
 
 Parn. Come, let's be off to the rehearsal. It will do — it 
 will do ! 
 
 FiTZ. But suppose Miss Fitzjames should alter her mind 
 and get well. 
 
 DiF. She can't, she is too bad. {all go vp except FiTZ- 
 dangle) 
 
 FiTZ. Oh, I can't stand this; poor dear Arabella's a bore, 
 certainly, but she shan't be crushed. There shall be two 
 Richmonds in Xk."^. field ! and, if there's no hit to-night, 
 there shall be a moat magnificent row. 
 
 Exit L. H. 
 
 Parn. (l. c.) Really, Sir, I mast say I think this young 
 lady is likely to prove a very great acquisition to the Theatre, 
 und, if you please, we'll adjourn there at once. 
 
 Rose, (l.) Oh ! thank you, Sir. 
 
 DuF. Oh, Monsieur, you are too good {hands hut, ^'C.) 
 Oh ! quel honncur ! (Parnassus about to take M.S.) Ah ! nan! 
 millepardons, permit dat I ave de honncur to carry de colos- 
 eal work ! Wonderful maa t £x€unt, h, u. 
 

 •4 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 [w. It, 
 
 ScENB Last — Behind the Scenes at the Theatre. 2nd 
 It is set in such a manner that the entrance upon the ski^ 
 faces the spectators. The left hand {which is supposed t()% 
 the audience side of the theatre) is a flat which prevents 
 actor from being seen when supposed to be before tlie puhk 
 People discovered lighting the wingSy placing properties aA 
 making preparations for the play, which is about to commem\ 
 One or two Actors and Actresses, and several of /<»| 
 Ballet dressed for their parts, are seen sauntering afmw 
 Carpentkrs setting scene, hamwering, §'C. Gkoroe {the mJ 
 boy) loitering about. They leave by degrees. 
 
 Enter Flat and Vamp, u. k. r. 
 
 Flat. What is to be done, Varap ? What business actori 
 and actresses have to be ill at all, I can't think. The odH 
 thing weakly about thera should be their salaries. However| 
 this time I really believe she is ill — and that's a gres 
 comfort ! ^ 
 
 Vamp. Yes, Sir! You know we have the medical cerj 
 tificate. 
 
 Flat. Pooh 1 Anybody can get one who will take tb 
 trouble to buy a box of pectoral lozenges* 
 
 Vamp. It's fortunate, Sir, we have this young lady ready] 
 
 Flat. The young lady is a novice, and the public don'ti 
 like novices. 
 
 Vamp. She seems elevcr ! 
 
 Flat. And looks pretty, which is more to the purpose. 
 Any old coachman will tell you that the success of the stag 
 depends very much on the outsides. — At all events we caul 
 but try her ; and, if the worst comes to the worst, she caif 
 but be damned. 
 
 Vamp. A dreadful shock to her parent, Sir. But tJK, 
 piece will be damned too. 
 
 Flat. I don't know. The public haven't the same energjj 
 to damn that they used to have. I suppose it's the morbii 
 antipathy to capital punishments. 
 
 Enter Gkorgk (the call boy) with hamper t R. He 
 
 Well, 8ir, what's that? 
 
 Grorgk. It's the buckets, Sir ! 
 
 Flat. What do you mean by buckets ? Oh ! bouguettt 
 iuppoie. 
 
[SC. IT, I 
 
 ire. 2)id win^ J 
 :e upon the ski 
 
 is supposed to m 
 >hich prevents tk 
 
 before t/ie puhki 
 ng properties an 
 bout to commm\ 
 id several of tk 
 sauntering aioniJ 
 Gkoroe {the CA 
 
 * 
 
 R. 
 
 it business acton 
 link. The odIiI 
 aries. Howeveti 
 i that's a gres 
 
 the medical cer<] 
 
 tio will take tb 
 
 oung lady ready] 
 the public don't 
 
 to the purpose, 
 7ce8s of the stagel 
 til events we caul 
 2 worst, she 
 
 t, Sir. But til 
 
 the same energT| 
 e it's the morbid 
 
 ■e. It.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 d» 
 
 nper, r. h< 
 
 Oh ! bougueUt If 
 
 Gkorge. Yes; the flowers, Sir, to fling at the lady in 
 he last scene. 
 
 Flat. Why, you extravagant dog — they're twopenny 
 ones ! I told that property man I wouldn't go beyond a 
 pennv— -except two twopennies for a second last niq^ht — 
 and three threepennies for a blaze of triumph. They'll not 
 be wanted to night. Put 'em in water fur the next occasion. 
 Stay ! on second thoughts, you may as well have 'em ready 
 in a private box; and, take care the girl is called for. 
 Many a drowning Prima Donna has been saved by a call. 
 Vamp, come with me and see that the scene is ready. 
 
 Exeunt Flat and Vamp l. ii. 
 
 Enter DufArd 1\», joi/fulfi/ and hastily, 
 
 Dur. Ah \ here we are at last. (Geokgb re-enters) 
 How long is it before we begin, eh ? 
 
 (Jeokge. Ab(ut five minutes. Sir. I've called the last 
 music. 
 
 UuF. Pheugh! bless me, how warm I am! All is right 
 now. My daughter's name is in de bill in letters grand 
 ^ize. Y)c jniblif is in the Theatre. Oh ! vion bon petit pub- 
 lic, be kind to my leetel child. 
 
 Enkr Rosb u. e. l., dressed for her part in the drama. 
 
 KosE. Here I am — here I am, Papa, all ready ! 
 
 \)vv. Ah, my child— you look an angel ! {in rapture) 
 
 Rose. Do you think so, Papa? 
 
 DuF. Your ''resB is perfection ! Stay ; you have not 
 quite enougli rouge on de left cheek, {takes bit of rouge out 
 of his pocket and carefully rouges her cheek) There is a fine 
 house — beaucoup de monde — and the ladies' toilettes are 
 suporb; you ave a leotcl too much whito on your chin. 
 {hikfs nut small Inires-foot ami uses it nn her chin and fare) 
 lint you trtinblc. my darling! Conic, conic, you must not 
 ho 111;,'! 1 1 fill! Sec mo, I aiii not frii^litlul. Tako some of 
 (lis: 1 liiul u sixiiciico in my pocket I not know of, so 1 buy 
 you H Icctcl ghisn sherry. A lions! ducnura'fc! de I aplomb, 
 dc I aploinh, and you sail avo a awccvtis jti/ramidtd ! 
 
 Ec- enter Vamp. 
 
 VsMi'. Now, call awuy, (icor<4o ; (he ovortmo is on. 
 Sec (liat everybody is ready to begin. 'I'bo curtain will go 
 u^) iu live miuutus. \Vhcro s the jjmciiial ludy ? 
 
i 
 
 I I 
 
 2n 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 t«C. lY. 
 
 I i h 
 
 Dup, Here she is, Sare ! 
 IlcsB. Here I am, Sir ! 
 
 Enter Arabella, dressed for the prirt^ with Fitzdanglb, 
 
 U. E. L. 
 
 Arab. Here I am, Sir ! 
 
 FiTZ. Yes, here we are ! 
 
 All. (astonished) Miss Fitzjames ! (they all go up) 
 
 Dup. 'J'hat woman is de devil ! 
 
 Arab. I'm very eorry to disappoint you, Ma'am, but I 
 have resumed my part. 
 
 Dup. You cannot play him. 
 
 FiTZ. Oh, yes, she can ! 
 
 AuAB. (smiling) And very well too, I flatter myself I 
 
 Dup. But you sail not play him I 
 
 ll« >ii. Certainly not. 
 
 Arab, (coolly) That we shall see ! 
 
 Dup. Aha! de bill is publish wiz my daughter's name, 
 Madame. 
 
 Ahab. That's not of the slightest consequence — the 
 8tae:e manager will announce the alteration to the audience. 
 
 FiTZ. Of course! where is he ? (looking about for him) 
 
 Dup. (to himself) Oh, if I could hut get him out of de 
 way ! (to George) Ditcs done, you ave some trap doori 
 here ? 
 
 George. Oh, yes, Sir, plenty, (pointing to stage) 
 
 DuF. Good! well, here — (whispers to Geouoe) 
 
 FiTZ. Here comes the manager and the author. 
 
 3iter Flat and Parnassus, u, e. l. 
 
 KosE. (rushing to Flat) Ah, Sir 1 
 
 Flat, (to Kose) My dear Madam, I'm really very sorry, 
 but, you see, the public interests — 
 
 ]*ARN. Certainly — the public interests, you see — 
 
 DuF. But, Mr. Shakyspear, yc ■ were satisfied. 
 
 Paun. Why, the fact is, J ha^j nothing to do with it 
 personally. 
 
 Arab, (to Rose and Dufard) You see, my good people, 
 this thing is quite impossible ! 
 
 Flat. Cume, we must clear the stage — the curtain is 
 foing up in one moment — Mr. Vamp, before it rises, you'll 
 have tiie goodness to announce that Miss Fitzjames has r*" 
 covered, and will resume her part. 
 
 / 
 
 n 
 
• C. IV.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 27 
 
 T)VF. Ah, Monsieur! par piti^ break not my heart I 
 
 YhKf. I say, Sir, you must leave the stage ! 
 
 Ui'P. I will not! send for your gensdarmes, your police- 
 men, and for your Lord Maire, I will not go ! I say she 
 ihftll come out ! 
 
 Flat. Now, Sir, go on and make the announcement. 
 
 Vamp is going, 
 
 Dnp» {holding him hack) He sail not go ! 
 
 Hose, {crying) No ; hold hira tight. Papa ! 
 
 Vamp. Silence 1 leave your hold, Sir ! 
 
 DuF. {still holding Vamp) If I could but ring de curtain 
 
 hell— 
 
 \aiip tries to disengage himself from DuPATiD, and makes 
 his way towards h. ii, as they arc struggling. 
 
 Dup. (midnt the general confusion) Ah, mind your head ! 
 
 Vamp runs back and Dupabd puts his arm off wing 1 E, where 
 the Prompter's box is supposed to be — the curtain bell is 
 heard to ring very loudli/, and llosE rushes on. 
 
 Flat. Who rung that bell } ah, the curtain is up I 
 DuF. De curtain is up, and my child is on de stage. 
 
 Rose disappears from view and is supposed to go before the 
 
 audience. 
 
 Arab. What ! she on the stage ? I'll go on too! 
 Parn. Stop, stop, stop ! would you ruin my piece ? 
 
 applause without. 
 
 Flat, (who is eagerly listening at wing of supposed stage) 
 Silence, silence ! 
 
 Arab. But she's playing my part ! 
 
 Fitz. It is disgraceful ! 
 
 Flat. My dear Sir, it is not my fault! {applause— ^e^ 
 etimes his situation at wing, eagerly watching the piece) 
 
 Dup. {delighted) Silence, silence! she is speaking like an 
 angel ! Ah, I said she should come out I {takes his place 
 at the wing, eagerly watching and listening) 
 
 Arab. Oh, I'll be revenged ! 
 
 Parn. {at wing) Ah ! where's the .Monzo ? he ought to be 
 on the stage. {Exeunt Stage Manager and Author, 
 greatly agitated. Ahoazo rushes on. Applause.) Eb, thfuak 
 Heaven I t^ere he ii. 
 
w 
 
 
 ll 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 18 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT 
 
 [so. IT. 
 
 Ahab. Yes ! your piece will fail, though ! You'll see ! 
 
 FiTZ. It shall (i^\ ! 
 
 AiiAB. (to FiTZDANOLF,) And you, Sir, i/ou, who said 
 that she should not play the part, go and get your friends 
 to hiss her, or you never see rae more. (Exit in a rage) 
 
 FiTZ. I'll go this instant. 
 
 Dup. {stays him) Hollo, where you go ? 
 
 FiTZ. To the front of the house. 
 
 Di F. To applaud* 
 
 FiTz. Quite the reverse, {going) 
 
 DuF. {seizing him by the coat tail) What, hiss ray child! 
 Monster ! tu n'iras pas. 
 
 FiTZ. Hands off, fool ! 
 
 Dup. You sail not go ! 
 
 FiTZ. Who will prevent me? 
 
 DUF. I will. {Stamps three times with his foot on the stage,- 
 the trap pointed out by the call boy, and on which Fitzdanole 
 it standing, suddenly dencends with him) 
 
 Fit/., {as he descends) Hollo ! hollo ! what is this ? help ! 
 help ! {trap closes) 
 
 Dup. Ah! good bye. 
 
 Flat, {popping in his head) Silence, silence, there ! 
 
 Rose, {re-appearing at wing l. H., and declaiming as ij 
 about to exit from scene) " Adieu ! adieu ! thou hast my love, 
 and should danger menace, they shall strike through my 
 jleact, ere their daggers shall reach thine." {Applause) 
 
 {She comes on as if having finished the scene) 
 
 Dup. Bravo ! bravo ! you have perform it superb. 
 
 UosK. Oh dear, how warm I am ! I declare it is very 
 hard work. 
 
 Dup. So it is, so it is, my love, {gives her drink) 
 
 Flat, {coming down eagerly) Excellent, my dear Madam, 
 excellent ! but you've no time to spare— ^you're on again in a 
 moment to finish the scene, you know. 
 
 Rose. Yes, yes ; but I must have my hair in disorder, 
 {arranging and undoing her hair) 
 
 Dup. (assisting /ter) I will do him — tenez, tenez — there I 
 thake him about ; it all her own, it won't come off. 
 
 Vamp, {appearing for a moment) Now, Miss, the stage is 
 waiting. 
 
 Ross, {resuming her tragedy t&nes) "Ah t to a dungeon lay 
 
«C. IV.] 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 2D 
 
 vou ? Hold, villain ! I command you I** CExits on to supposed 
 
 (Stage) 
 
 Flat. (Id hunsclf) Capital ! glorious ! AN hat fire ! what 
 cnerjjv ! This girl will make my fortune. {Great applause 
 hccrif) (To Di I'AUD) Now, my dear Sir, I'm ready to 
 en'Mge your daughter immediately. 
 
 l)i F. I i'hould think so, for it is a colossal dSid. 
 
 Flat. Let me see ; you told me this moruing four pounds 
 a week, I helieve > 
 
 UuF. £10. I told you ten pounds, {aside) Now, I tickel 
 
 him ! 
 
 Flat. Yes — hut you ended by saying four. 
 
 ])vv. Hut I begin with ten. ((^rat applause behind) 
 
 Flat. Well, I'm a liberal man— £10 be it. I'll give her 
 £10. 
 
 \)vv. What! no more — no more than ten after a success 
 like that ? I must have fifteen, {applause hehbid) 
 
 Flat. Hut £15, you know, is an enormous sum ! {applame) 
 
 i)uK. £15 and a benefit. 
 
 Flat. Upon my word, Mr, — {applause and ahouts of 
 " bravo") 
 
 DuF. You hatl better settle him at once, or I sail have 
 twenty if the public proceed in dis way. {shouts ami 
 a/'/ilause) 
 
 Rose appears pichbif/ up bouquets. 
 
 Flat. Well, fifteen be it — I'll give fifteen ! 
 Rose enters Hurrounded hif Vamp, ^'c, huuipiela thrown after 
 
 hir. Dv¥\RD puts wreath on Paknassus' head. 
 
 Uo8K. Thank you ! I thank you ! Oh, Papa ! my dear. 
 Tfiipa ! 
 
 DuF. My darling child ! {embracing her) Well, you ave tickel 
 the public — eh ? ah ! my darling child. 
 
 Parnassus, (ru-shint/ in eugerli/) Where is she ? Where 
 is she } Ah, excellent, ! charming ! magnificent ! — Melody 
 in every tone — ^genius in every glance — grace in every 
 gesture! 
 
 DuF. Eh, hien ! Monsieur Flat — what you say ? £20 ? 
 
 Flat. Most happy, I'm sure !— But come, we must begin 
 the Second Act. 
 
 HuF, Ah, out, en place — Come along, {skouis of *' Misf 
 Di^wd,'* atid applamtt) Stop-»-fltop — listeu. 
 
>■ 111 
 
 in 
 
 80 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT, 
 
 [•c. It, 
 
 . 
 
 Gborob. (entering) Sir ! Sir ! they are calling for Miii 
 Dufard. They'll tear up the benches if she don't come. 
 
 Flat. Where's Mr. Vamp, to take her on ? 
 
 DuF. I sail take her myself. 
 
 Flat. But, my dear Sir, you're not dressed I 
 
 DuF. C'est ^(jal — I am her fader — the public shal? excuse 
 me — attendez ! {rouges hiimelf) Allon* ! mafille /— mais stop 
 —What I see ? dere is a public here also ! Oh ! dear mc ! 
 dear me ! maia courage! perhaps dey will be as kind as de 
 odere public dere. I sail presume to take the liberty to oHk 
 dem I^-Messieurs and Mesdames ! 
 
 We've had applause behind de scene, 
 
 I've tiekcl (Icra 'tis true, 
 But dat, alas, is leetel worth 
 
 Unless I tickel you. 
 Ah, sny, den, dat dc debutante 
 
 Again shall reappear. 
 And let de plaudits over deie ' 
 
 Now find an echo here t 
 
 CUBTAUL 
 
 i: 
 
 -m 
 
[•0. IT, 
 
 ing for Mi»i 
 n't corae. 
 
 filial.' excuse 
 /— mais stop 
 •h ! dear me! 
 i kind as de 
 ibertv to oxk 
 
I 
 
 r 
 
 /x^ 
 
 ■^ 
 
 -f ^^ 
 
 LONIJONrCHAI'MAN X llAl.li. laS ii IHANI' 
 
m- 
 
 i& 
 
 
 H »»H"». 
 
rm: 
 
 ACTING NATIONAL DRAMA; 
 
 coMrniMNn 
 
 rVI.RY roPITt.AR NEW PI.AY, KARTK, MFTO-DRAMA, OPFRA, 
 
 BUIILETTA, ETC., CAHEKII.LY PRINTED FROM THl. 
 
 PROMPTfNO COPIES. 
 
 KDITRT) BT 
 
 BENJAMIN WEBSTER, Comedian; 
 
 MK.MBKR or TUB DRAMATIC AUTHORS' AACIKTr. 
 
 WIIH II.I.l'STnATIONS, BY I'lKHrF. FOAN THE YOUNQFR. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 YOr can't MAURY YOUR GRAND- WEAK POtNTR. 
 
 MOTHER. 
 SPRING LOOK. 
 TUB VAI.KT UE SHAM. 
 THE r.ROVHSOF Ui.ARNFV. 
 A HASTY CONCI.USION. 
 THK MELT0MAN8. 
 
 NAVAI. FNOAOFMENTS. 
 nniTISH LKXilON. 
 THK lltlSH LION. 
 LYING IN ORDINARY. 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, THE CARNIVAL 
 BALL. 
 
 *»**»»f»**»***r*»»*i'0*^*^^^^ 
 
 WITH A PORTRAIT OF 
 
 THOMAS IIAYNES BAYLY, ESQ. 
 
 FROM A PAINTING, BY .TONES. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHAPMAN & HAI.I., lOii, STRAND. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 OK 
 
 THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, ESQ. 
 
 The famed city of Bath is the birthplace of Mr. Bayly, 
 which event occurred on the 13th of October, 1799. He is 
 very highly connected. His father was the nepliew of Lord 
 De!ai..?re, and Sir George Thomas, Bart , was his maternal 
 grandfather. He is also related to the present Karl of 
 Stamford and Warrington, and the Earl of Errol. It 
 may be said he " lisped in numbers," for at ten years 
 of age, the writing of verses and dramas was his chief 
 pastime, and displaying a more than ordinary talent, he was 
 allowed to follow tlie bent of his mclination, ha\ing the 
 inheriiancc of riches in prospect, and being an only child. 
 Ill 18*2() he was united to Miss Helena Becher Hayes, a near 
 relatioh of Sir William Becher, Bart. In 1831 his re- 
 sources, through the improvidence of others, became so 
 crippled, astocompel him to turn his love of poesy and general 
 literature to nci'ount,and niake his pen add to his comforts as 
 It liiid foruurly done to his amusement. His ballads soon 
 bet-aiiM' >o jtiHtl} popular, that in privati* and public they 
 
1 
 
 I 
 
 IV 
 
 mor.RAi'Hit ,\r skftch of t m. hAvr.Y, e^q. 
 
 were the prificipal attraction, and though the nunjbor he li.-u 
 written is almost beyond compjitation, every announced n«'w 
 one is sought after with avidity. But it is his dmmatic en* 
 pabilities that gives him a niche in this work, and certainly 
 those, in their extent, are of a first-rate order, for no pieces 
 in our edition are pleisanter to see or to read. His farce of 
 Pc7'fcction, whicli was his maiden effort, is indeed the per- 
 fection of fun, and his Gentleman in D{fficuHics, Eleventh 
 Day, Tom Noddi/s Secret^ &c., are strong proofs in favour of 
 an extraordinary versatiHty of talent, and of his being one 
 of the most popular authors of the day. He has also been 
 a most voluminous contributor to the magazines ; and htn 
 novel of *• Kate Leslie," has deservedly added considerably 
 to his fame. 
 
 Mr. Bayly is a well-formed man. five feet seven inches in 
 height, of a florid complexion, with auburn hair, and light 
 blue eyes. 
 
 October {\th, 18;W, 
 
 R. W. 
 
ibor lie li.ij 
 
 )unced m-w 
 
 ramatic c;j. 
 
 d certainly 
 
 no pieces 
 
 ^is farce of 
 
 od the por- 
 
 r, Eleventh 
 
 n favour of 
 
 being one 
 
 also boon 
 
 s ; and htH 
 
 3nsidcrabl)- 
 
 ) inches in 
 , and light 
 
 n. W. 
 

 I 
 
■ ■*■■ ■%- 
 

ONE HOUR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 AN ORIGINAL BUULETTA, 
 
 in <@ne Art. 
 
 BV 
 
 THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, Esq. 
 
 MKMBER OF THE DRAMATIC AnTHORs' SOCIETY. 
 Al'THOn OF "the culprit," "the 8PITAI.FIELDS WEAVER," " YOr 
 
 can't marrv voun orandmotheh," &c. &c. 
 
 As performed ftt 
 
 MADAME VESTRIS'S ROYAL OLYMPIC 
 THEATRE. 
 
 CORRECTT.Y PRINTED FROM THE PROMI'TEU S COPY, WITH THE CAM 
 OF CHARAOeita, COSTUME, SCENIC ARRANOEMFNT, SIDEB OF 
 ENTRANCE AND EXIT, AND RELATIVE I'oaillONit OF 1HK 
 DRAMATIS PEHSUNjC. 
 
 WITH 
 
 A PORTRAIT AND MEMOIR OF THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, Esq. 
 
 FROM A DRAWING BY T. SAMSON. 
 
 ILLUSTRATF.n WITH AN ETCHING, IIY 
 PIERCE EOAN THE YOUNGER, H10S< A DRAWING TAKEN DL'RINO THE 
 
 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 LON DON : 
 CHAPMAN AND HMA., lOrf, STRAND. 
 
at 
 tr 
 it 
 
 ii 
 
 <ll 
 
 l( 
 ri 
 O 
 
Misi^mM^ tl^^i^^^'^^^ ^^^ ®isi^iimmi!?< 
 
 FIRST PERrOllMlID JANt'AUY Htlu iB3'i. 
 
 MR. ( IIAIU.KS SWIFTLY. l»t. Fashion-I 
 able brown frock-coat, liffht. kcrscynicre | ^ f „.,,-, Matukw. 
 trousers, Ircmh RuitcfH, shooH, and white hat. ('^^- ^»^^^** Mathkws 
 Jnd. Thf costume of a Neapolitan Feasant. .J 
 
 O'l.KARY. Dark mixture livery . . Mr. Bruluham. 
 
 MH.S BKVIL. iHt. W'liitc dinner dress. | „,„ k»..«..t 
 ir.d. Silver lama, black hat, white feathers . ) ""' "^nioiit. 
 
 Jl.l.IA DALTON. JHt. Pl»lt fiilk dinner ).,, ,, 
 
 ilroHs, and. Costume of a Ncapolitoii peasant ) '•'»"»'"* * hbtris. 
 
 KA.S'NY. 1st. Blue silk. 2od. Gold lama. . Miss Paort. 
 
 Time of representation, fifty minutes. 
 
 RXPI.ANATION OF TIIK BTAOB DIRKCTIONS. 
 
 I, means f\rst entrance, left. R. first entrance, riifht. 8. E, L. second 
 entrance, left. S. E. R. second entrance, right, U. E. L. upper entrance 
 Ifft, r. K. R. upper entrance, right. C. centre. L. C. loft centre. R. C. 
 riRht centre. T. E. L. third entrance, left. T. K. R. third entrance, riffht. 
 Observing you arc supposed to face the audience. 
 
 A i 
 
TO 
 
 LIEUT. COL. SIR WILLIAM ROBERT 
 CLAYTON, BART,, M. P. 
 
 THIS LITTLE DRAMA IS DEDICATED, 
 
 BY » 
 
 i 
 
 t nil 
 
 HIS FAITHFUL AND OBLlflFD FRIEND, 
 
 THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 
 
 Athenaum Club, 
 Aus. ii3, 1838. 
 
ONE HOUR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 '•CKNE I. — A chamber in Mr«. Bevii.'s remience at Xaple*. A 
 lari^e practicable clock is a cotisiticunuii object in the scene — <i coge 
 with two birds, a gUissf^lobe with tico golii and silver fish — a tubU 
 with work-box, guitar, wriiinfj nuitfriaU. Mrs. lU.vii. at an 
 embroidery frame ; \\, Va'SVH writing, u, 
 
 Afr.v. H. I wish you would Iny aside your |>cn, Fanny, an*! 
 talk to nie ; 1 can |{:ue88 to wiiom that hotter ih to he addressed ; 
 yuu are always either thinking of hiin, or writing to him. 
 
 i-'u/i. It is uiy duty, dear aunt ; aye, and my pleasure too , 
 hut now I have come to a full stop, and as it will he in tinie 
 for the ambassador's hag to-morrow, I will have a little chat. 
 {Leaves the table, and sits by Mrs. litvii.) Besides, I have 
 something tu tell you ; who do you think is just arrived at 
 iXaplcs ? 
 
 Mrs. li. I cannot guess. 
 
 i'uH. My indefatigable persecutor, Mr. (Charles Swiftly. 
 
 Mrs. li. Swiftly ! good gracious ! indefatigable indeed ; I 
 thought he was still at 1-lorence. 
 
 Fan. Ves, he was there last week — is here this — and where 
 he will be the next, who shall say ! Tm certain I saw him pas.4 
 tiie house an hour ago in his travelling carriage. 
 
 Mrs. li. I trust he is not in pursuit of you, for he must be 
 aware that we left Florence so suddenly, on purpose to avoid 
 iiim. Poor yciung man, lie said he loved you to distraction. 
 
 Fan. There is very little appearance of sanitq in any thing 
 he does ; therefore, were I to admit the existence of tlie love, I'd 
 he the last person in the world to deny the distraction. 
 
 Mrs. li. W hy, he would neither look at, nor speak to anybo<ly 
 else. 
 
 Fan. Because I was the only person who avoided hini. He is 
 really an exceedingly nice person ; but, situated as I am, he is 
 the very last 1 could have wished to be exclusively attentive to 
 me. 
 
 Mrs. B, And, why, pray ? 
 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 Fan. Because he is so gay, so agreeable, so good looking. 
 Keing married, and for a certain time obliged to keep my 
 marriage a secret, until my husband has in person commu- 
 nicated with his rich relations in England, of course it behoves 
 me to act with extraordinary caution in his absence. 
 
 Mrs. B. You are right, — right in this instance, but very 
 wrong to marry !n such a clandestine manner ; indeed I am not 
 without blame myself. 
 
 Fati. That cannot be helped now, dear aunt ; but I think your 
 other niece, 1 mean the niece of your late husband, my dear 
 cousin, Julia Dalton, seemed to admire Mr. Charles exceed- 
 ingly. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ay, but I don't think he ever deigned to look at 
 her. 
 
 Fun. Because, before they met, he had been piqued by my 
 coldness ; otherwise he would have preferred her to me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Would that we could tell him of your secret mar- 
 riage, but that is impossible ; for were your husband's relations 
 to hear of it from any one but himself, they would never forgive 
 him. 
 
 Fan. It is too true ; so should IMr. Swiftly fmd us out here, 
 1 must again endure liis harassing attentions. 
 
 Mrs. B. I wish he would transfer those attentions to Julia ; 
 he is a spoilt child, accustomed to have his own way in every 
 thing; your coldness has, as you say, picqued him, and there- 
 fore pride makes him persist in the pursuit; change your plan, 
 Fanny, smile on him, seem more accessible, and the spell will 
 be broken. 
 
 Fan. And the good old Knglish gossips of Naples will tell 
 my husband, when he returns, that 1 have been flirting with Mr. 
 Swiftly in his absence. 
 
 Mrs. B. That will never do ; yet, as I am certain that he and 
 Julia would suit each other, I wish we could think of some 
 plan — 
 
 Fan. Hush ! — I hear Julia's step. 
 
 Mrs. B. Come then to my room, and let us talk it over 
 before they meet — come. {^Exeunt, k. h. 
 
 Ejjtsr Julia, l. h. 
 
 Jul. Is it possible 1 — yes, I am sure I saw him looking up at 
 the house : and what is that to me? What am I about, what 
 , am I thinking of? 1, Julia Dalton ! I, of all women in the 
 world, to interest myself about a man who certainly never 
 thinks of nie ! I'll ascertain out of mere curiosity, whether it 
 be really he. (»i"^s bell.) If so we shall have him here to a 
 certainty, paying his addresses to the only lady in the family 
 who cannot listen to him ; my aunt being a widow, and I an 
 interesting spinster. 
 
 Enter O'Learv, l. ii. 
 
 Oh, you are there ? 
 Leu. Yes, madam, here be some bits of card, if you plase. 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 at 
 
 . Jut. How often have 1 told you to deliver iheni on h silver 
 waiter ? 
 
 O'Lea. Ah, now — and that's true ; because of your aversion 
 to uiy finger and thumb; but it's all along of my not being 
 used to the indoor matters of a house you perceive: OIi, and 
 I'll hurry and fetch the little tray — its Mr. Swiftly. 
 
 Jul. Vour old master ! — put the cards on the table. 
 
 O'Lea. With the fingers and thimibs ? — you can't mane it. 
 
 Jul. Yes, yes, yes, place theui there. (O'Lkauy puts doicu 
 ctirds, Julia Im^ks at them.) 
 
 O'Lea. Being just arrived, he laves 'em, P. P. C. like, to ask 
 how you all are. Oh, my old master's a rale gentleman ; I'm a 
 judge, and know it — when I was in his sarvice, I looked after 
 the horses, poor bastes, and the stable commodities ; but now 
 I'm riz to be a futnian — oh hone! 
 
 Jul. And pray, why did Mr. Swiftly part with you ? he gave 
 you an excellent character. 
 
 O'Lea. Is it the! character ? Oh, by the powers he didn't 
 give me that \ I've had it all along of my very own ; but he 
 parted with me because I got into a low way. 
 
 Jut. Indeed ! 
 
 O'Lea. Oh, shocking ! horrid low ! mind me though, and no 
 mistake, not low in the blackguard line, but low in spirits — the 
 heart in my bussum's as heavy as leai. 
 
 Jul. If anything serious ia the matter, confide in me. 
 
 O'Lea. Confide ! and is it to be confidential that you are 
 asking of me ; oh, the kindness of that, and the desceiition to 
 listen to a poor sarvent's inconveniences ! I'm thankful in 
 you, mistress, and ever shall; oh, and I'll tell you my niis- 
 fortunes; and isn't it a dreadful blow to be over on one side of 
 the galantic ocean, and lo have left the best part of one's heart 
 on the 'tother side? faith and I'm crazy like about it. 
 
 Jut. Oh, that is all ; — love ? 
 
 O'Lea. All ! its plain, and clear, you never felt that same, or 
 you would'nt say all. Its INIeary O'Donnovan, such a pet of a 
 girl, — sells the milk that's fresh from the hen, and tlie eggs 
 that's fresh from the cow. 
 
 Jul. And do you correspond ? 
 
 O'Lea. In figure ? Ves, she's pretty enough on a small scale. 
 Oh, you mean write ; ah no, there's the mischief, I can't ; and I 
 envy that boy, my brother Mick, his freeknowledgy. 
 
 Jut. Phrenology ! 
 
 O'Lea. Yes, sure; all his knowledge ca.me free at a Freeschiwl. 
 
 Jul. {laughiiii^.) Oh, I comprehend. But now attend to me; 
 did you open the door when Mr. Swiftly called ? 
 
 O'Lea. And to be sure I did. Faith he hardly knew his old 
 groom in these new jerrymentals. 
 
 Jut. Did he leave any message ? 
 
 O'Lea. He asked a deal about mistress — I begs pardon, Miss 
 — 1 mean ^Liss Fanny. 
 
 Jul. 1 hope you never betrayed that secret, O'Leary '. 
 
 O'Lea. Ob, never ; but, faith, he did ask a mortal sight of 
 
8 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 
 questions about her, pertaining to how she was, and how she 
 looked, and the like. 
 
 Jul. And — a — did he ask— any other questions ? 
 
 O'Lea. No, ma'am. 
 
 Jul. Not about Mrs. Bevil — or — 
 
 O'Lea. Just asked, for the sake of asking, how mild lady did ; 
 but as he didn't stop to be answered, I take it he did'nt much 
 care. 
 
 Jul, And~a — any thing ahout me. 
 
 O'Lea. Divil a word ! he said, he'd be back as soon as he had 
 tidied his person to pay his respects. 
 
 Jul. You may go. 
 
 O'Lea. Yes, ma'am, (aside.) Oh, Meary O'Donnovan, my 
 heart will break ! [Ejif, l. h. 
 
 Jul. So, then, we shall meet again; yes, and I'll prove my 
 power, and having won him, I'll treat him with the coldness 
 he deserves ; as to really caring for the man, I don't think I do 
 — I hope not. Ah, here's my cousin. 
 
 Enter Fanny, r. h, 
 
 Fa7i. Well, Julia, do you know who is arrived ? 
 
 Jul. There are three precious little cards upon that table, 
 which announced to me the important event to which I suppose 
 you allude. You are in a pretty scrape, for he has followed 
 you, of course. 
 
 Fan. Get me out of the scrape, by making him follow you. 
 
 Jul. Perhaps he may not so readily follow a new leader? 
 
 Fan. I'll answer for that; he is at present all frivolity, easily 
 caught and easily lost j now I wish you not only to catch him, 
 but also to keep him. 
 
 Jul. I'm exceedingly obliged to you, Fanny. 
 
 Fan. Well, then, for mu sake endeavour to attract his 
 attention ; remember how unpleasantly I am situated. 
 
 Jul. Unpleasantly ! oh, you mean married ! yes, yes. 
 
 Fan. No, no, you giddy girl ; but you know very well what 
 I do mean ; and pray accede to my wishes. 
 
 Jul. Hush ! (aside.) I accede more willingly than she sus- 
 pects. 
 
 ilnter O'Leauv, l. h. 
 
 O'Lea. There's Mr. Swiftly below, ma'am. 
 Jtil. Admit him ! • 
 
 O'Lea. (aside.) I can't bring he up on top of a silver waiter, 
 suppose ! [Exit, i.. h. 
 
 Jul. Now I shall sit as quiet as a mouse, while you two make 
 love. 
 
 Fan. I ! 
 
 Jul. Oh, in all love-making, one must listen, while the other 
 talks. — Now for it (goes to the table and pretends to he writing, 
 merely bowing coldly to Swiftly as he enters.) 
 
 Stvi. (tvithout.) Where is .she? where is the inestimable, in- 
 comparable, adorable—? 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 Enters l. h. 
 
 Ah, here she is. My dear madam, how are you ? (howi colfllu 
 tn Jvi.iAscarcetif Uwkinn; at her : and crossing to Fannv ieizes her 
 hand.) What an ajre it is since we met } 
 
 Fun. (coldlij.) Not quite a month. 
 
 Sici. A luonth ! pooh — months, years, centuries, ages ! must 
 be— seems 80— at all events, seemed so to me. To you, alas! 
 perhaps — 
 
 Fun. {carelessly.) It seems to rae &s if we had parted yes- 
 terday. 
 
 Swi. I thought you'd say so, and yet I ouglit to say it seems 
 but yesterday; I give you my honour I never ate or drank 
 since. 
 
 Fan. Not eat or drink for a month ? 
 
 iii/V. Nothing wliatevor ! — that is, except little bits of snacks, 
 and absolutely necessary drops of comfort ; — merely satisfied 
 the cravings of appetite, nothing more ; no dinners, no sup- 
 pers, no meals of any kind. 
 
 Jul. {aside.) Poor little man ! he keeps up his stamina won- 
 derfully. 
 
 Swi. And as for sleep, I positively have not slept; wouldn't 
 let any body else sleep ; walked about the house, upstairs, 
 down-stairs, here, there, and every where ; drove my landlady 
 distracted. Ever since you left I'lorence, my night-cap has 
 hung upon a peg. 
 
 Jul. {uilh'nit looking from her paper.) Almost enough to make 
 you hang yourself upon another, sir ? 
 
 Swi. (starting.) Madam! Who's there! I beg pardon; 
 forgot there whs any body else in the room. 
 Jul. Oh, don't mi:id me — I'm writinj? letters. 
 
 I 
 
 Swi. {to Fanny.) Don't you ol)servo how thin I'm g 
 Fan. i\o, indeed— vour fiii:iire was alwavs slight. 
 
 rown 
 
 Jul. Oh, yes; very slight, almost equivalent to nothing 
 at all. 
 
 Swi. Madam ! Oh, now— yes, yes, vow I'm very thin, ema- 
 ciated, a living skeleton ; uiy bones rattle as I walk. Your 
 «loing, ma'am, all your doing! (.Julia laughs. "Ha, ha — a 
 walking rattle !" Swifti.y aside to Fanny.) That cousin of yours 
 is an exceedingly disagreeable person, {aloud) 1 am positively 
 so altered that my old servant, O'Leary, didn't know me when 
 he opened the door. 
 
 Jul. Fanny, ring the bell, and we'll introduce him. 
 
 Swi. {aside.) I never liked her; but she used to be inoften- 
 '^'^e — now, there's no bearing her flii»pancy. {to Fanny.) 
 Shall I never have an opportunity of speaking to you alone ? 
 
 Fan. No, sir, certainly not. 
 
 Swi. {aside.) The old story, cold as an icicle, {aloud.) The 
 carnival commences to-dav, are vou going to join the motley 
 group at the ball to-night? 
 
 Fan. No — you remember I rarely went out at Florence. 
 
 Swi. How very disagreeable. (Jui.u has been writing on f'e 
 
 a3 
 
1 
 
 I ■ 
 I 
 
 !i 
 
 10 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 back of a curd, crosses behind Fanny to u. n. and gives it to her.) 
 Jul. Fanny, have you seen this card ? 
 
 Fan. {reads aside.) 1 iinderstnnd. (^aload and carelessly.) If I 
 do go, I shall tor once, as a frolic, assume a character. 
 Siui. Wluit character, dear madam, tell me ? 
 Fan. The costume of a Neapolitan peasant, — adieu, sir, 
 adieu. [£xi<, r. n. 
 
 Swi. Gone I I wanted a little conversation with her; one 
 hour. How provoking; could 1 i)ut contrive one uninterrupted 
 hour, e'er I meet her at the hall. A Neapolitan peasant! 
 charming costume ; short petticoat, pretty foot — I'll get a 
 dress also, (sees Julia.) Oh, 1 forgot Miss Thingamee was in 
 rhe room. 
 
 Jut. Surely, you'll nevjr find a dress that will fit so thin 
 a man ? 
 
 Swi. {aside.) What a satirical little devil it is ! {during the 
 scene lit; scarcely looks at her.) Nevermind, I'll try ; it's easy to 
 fill out a dress that's too hig, but when you've got one that's 
 too little, the case is hopeless. I'm charmed with the thoughts 
 of this Carnival Hall. They wanted to detain me at Florence, 
 and the day before I left it, I dined with such a glorious set of 
 fellows ! 
 Jill. Dined ! did you say dined ? 
 
 Swi. Yes, madam, dined; Lord Filmer, Charles Nugent, Sir 
 Harry, three ambassadors. 
 Jul. Dined ! 
 
 Swi. Yes, 1 say, dined at my apartments. Such a dinner ! 
 such wines ! 
 
 Jul. Dinner! wines ! 
 
 Swi. (rapidly.) Exquisite ! three courses — Potage a la reine, 
 iuurmm a la Turtare, dindon a la cliipolute, IxtuJ' rott, peiits pates 
 uux huities puree de cluvnpigiion, ris de veau pique aux toinutes, 
 fuuit de voluiile uux trujfes, les usjierges, le pois nouveaux , Charlotte 
 Russe, gelte au Marasquin, soujjlte a lu vunille — -J'oiulus — 
 Jul. Stop, stop ! you'll make me ill ! 
 Swi, Oh, 1 hav'nt half done. 
 Jul. Cut, of what dinner are you speaking'? 
 Swi. (aside.) Exceedingly stupid young person! (aloud.) My 
 dear madam, as I said before, of a dinner 1 enjoyed with my 
 friends at Florence. 
 
 Jul. You ! you enjoy a dinner after Fanny's departure ! 
 Swi. Yes, madam, (recollecting Jiimself.) That is — when I say 
 dined, I don't mean that — others dined — 1 looked on. 
 Jul. Oh ! others dined — you looked on? 
 Swi. Yes, yes — sat at the table; couldn't eat; tried, but 
 couldn't ; sniffed at every thing. Mais Je ue mange pus de tout. 
 Jul. And, pray, when did you leave Florence? 
 iSu>J. Came here as fast as possible : wouldn't stay at Rome 
 ft day. Dear Rome ! not one day; I only slept there — excel- 
 lent bed — particularly snug. 
 
 Jul. Slept there — slept at Rome ? 
 
THK CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 M 
 
 Sivi. Yes, like atop — ;levilisli tired I w<is. 
 
 Jul. Slept! what, took your nightcap off the pe^r ? 
 
 ^iti. Hem—off the peg— to be sure — obliged to take it off 
 the peg to pack it up ; but when I say 1 slept, I — I only mean 1 
 went to bed, and lay awake, {aside.) Hang me, if ever I met 
 with such a little woman as titat. 
 
 /(//. {uditniug.) Oh, you lay awake j beg pardon, nothing to 
 ine, you know. 
 
 iiwi. (aside.) Ton ray life, 1 should think not; very defi- 
 cient i take it, poor thing, about the noddle. 
 
 Jal. {aside.) He will not look at me ; how very provoking. 
 If he would but look, I think 1 might induce him to listen ; 
 but this indifference is hopeless. 
 
 Swi. Perhaps, madam, you would do me a favour. I wish 
 to be permitted to converse with your cousin for one uninter- 
 rupted hour ; now, if you would but run — 
 
 Jul. (Uniguidltj.) Run ^ oh dear, never 1 never run ; and 
 you really talk so fast, it liurries and worries me ; slow and 
 sure is my motto. Oh dear me, what a tedious long morning 
 it is — I should so like a cosey nap. [Exit, iiaicning, n. ii. 
 
 Hwi, (looking after her.) Upon my word, she has a good 
 figure ; never observed her points before. But what a daudle ! 
 never runs ! But, hang her, 1 must think of her more fasci- 
 nating cousin. How to obtain this hour's conversation. Ah ! 
 here are pens, ink, and paper. 1 11 write to the aunt, and 
 solicit her intercession, {sits d>iwn, writes.) " Dear madam — 
 um, um, um — fascinating niece — um, urn, um — permission to 
 visit her alone — um, um — for the space of one hour — hnve the 
 lionour to remain, most obedient humble servant — Charles 
 Swiftly." There, that will do ; now to dispatch it at once, {rings 
 hell.) How slow seivaiits are. When 1 marry and settle, I'll 
 make it a point with my footmen that they shall stride up 
 stairs six steps at a time, {rings again.) Footmen, indeed ! 
 snails, dormice, creeping things — I'll pull the bell down, Oh, 
 1 forgot — I'm not in my own house. Ali ! here's somebody — 
 a sloth in livery. 
 
 Enter Q'Leary, l. h. 
 
 Swi. What, Q'Leary, is it you ^ By Jove, its lucky tor 
 you. You used to move quicker when you were in my service. 
 
 O'Leary, Oh, faith, and truth, 1 was a different man altoge- 
 ther, though it was myself; for then my heart was light, and 
 the step of a man always keeps pace with iiis heart. But now ! 
 oh thunder and devilry ! Meary O'Donnovan ! to her side the 
 salt ocean, oh hone ! 
 
 Swi. Pooh, cheer up, man; bustle: don't walk about lament- 
 ing your fate like that. Here, take this note to Mrs. Bevil. 
 
 O'Leary intakes note.) And won't you be after listening to — 
 
 Swi. Not a word — run — 
 
 O'Leary. But my late master now — 
 
 Swi. Late master ! if you don't fly, you shall be ray late 
 servant with a vengeance, for hang me if you shall be in the 
 
12 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 ! I 
 
 '. >' 
 
 ■'.'• 
 
 land of ihe living. Vanish. {Pushes O'Leahy out, n. h.) No\t 
 i 11 sit still until the answer comes, {sits.) No, 1 can't do that. 
 (jumps up.) 1 know what I'll do — there are one hundred and 
 fifty stone steps to my apartments at the hotel, I'll go and see 
 how often lean run up and down in a quarter of an hour. 
 
 [^Exit Swiftly. 
 
 Enter Fanny, r. ij. 
 
 Fail. This persecution is not to be borne. I am loth to re- 
 quest my aunt to forbid him the house, because, as a friend . 
 I esteem hiui ; and were he conscious of my real situation, he 
 might learn to appreciate my cousin. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Bevil, with a note in her hand, n.H. 
 
 Mrs. B Here is a note from Mr. Swiftly, requesting permis- 
 sion to visit you for an hour. 
 
 fan. Mow very disagreeable ! 
 
 Mrs. B. 1 really know not what to say to him. Here is 
 >^iliu, let us consult her. 
 
 Enter Julia, ii. ii. 
 
 Jul. A consiiltation ! — here I am — what is the matter in de- 
 bate ? 
 
 Mis. B. Let me ask vou seriously, what you think of Mr. 
 Swiftly? 
 
 Jul. Would you have me waste a tho\^ght on a man who 
 evidently thinks not of me ? who would rrot even look at me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Assuredly not ; then we must decline receiving his 
 visits. . 
 
 Jul, Yet, could I but manage to have one hour's interview 
 with him — one little hour — 
 
 Fun. Well, what then ? 
 
 Jul. You will perliaps laugh at my vanity, Fanny, but I (/<» 
 flatter myself 1 could make liiiu not only think of me, but re- 
 member that hour all the days of his life. 
 
 Mrs. B. How so, my dear, how so ? 
 
 .hiL J low so ! why simply thus — 1 have never been taught 
 to believe that either my person or ray accomplishments are 
 actually contemptihle. 
 
 Mis, B. Assuredly not, my dear — but — 
 
 Jul. But, you would say, that Mr. Swiftly 's apathy arises 
 from his having an attachment elsewhere ; but no, aunt ; 
 amiable and delightful as my dear Fanny is, I am sure he does 
 not really love her. Circumstanced as she is, she has been 
 obliged to withhold from him the fascinations which she pos- 
 sesses. 
 
 Fan. Thank you, Julia, for the compliment; and now, as I, 
 being already married, cannot encourage him, you being free, 
 and moreover being a little bit in love with him, mean to 
 
 Jul. Hush, Fanny ! 1 confess I am not quite prepared to 
 have all my motives and intentions scrutinised ; he is my 
 brother's friend j and — in fact — I should like to engage bis at- 
 tention. 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 19 
 
 Mrs. li. Vou shall have your wish. He has written to re- 
 jjuest an hour's conversation with my niece, meaning; Fanny ; I 
 will accede to his wishes, and, pretending to misunderstand 
 him, will cause him to he conducted hither. 
 
 Jul. Oh.deliuhtful. {rings tlie hell.) Now you mark the result ; 
 he'll not want to go away at the end of the tirst hour, depend 
 on it. 
 
 Kilter 0'Lv.AWV,u. u. 
 
 Jul. Quick, dear aunt, quick ; give O'Leary your message — 
 quick. [iMrs. RzMLgoes to table to write. 
 
 0'I.eii. (anide.) I?y the powers, she's as great a bustle as my 
 late master ; 1 wisli he'd just turn over his attt-ntiuns to her, 
 instead of the married one. 
 
 Jul. What are you about, my dear aunt, tidgetting there? 
 don't wait to write ; O'1-.eary will take the messuage. 
 
 Mrs. li. Very well ; goto iSlr. Swiftly, with my compliments, 
 and say my niece will be happy to receive hira. 
 
 O'Lea. I'M do that same, (^asiile.) She manes the married 
 lady ! Oh, shocking! he's to he what they call here in Italy 
 her Calialrij Survantu ! 
 
 Jul. Oh, 1 wish he were conie. What shall I do to amuse 
 myself? 
 
 Fan. (shows a miniature to Julia.) Have you seen my hus- 
 band's picture, Julia? 
 
 Jul. No — yes — 1 can't think of it now;»and pray go awny 
 both of you ; for as his hotel is but two doors off, and he is ax 
 nimble as a tiarlequin, we shall have him lit re in two minutea. 
 (motes a uorlituhte, chair, and btool to the front.) 
 
 Fail, (puts a iniiiiatuie on the tahle.) Very well. Adieu. 
 
 Mrs. B. It is just live o'clock ; at six precisely I shall inter- 
 rupt your interview. [Exit Alus. litviL and Fanny, r. h. 
 
 Jut. Hark! yes — I hear him coming — now for it. 
 
 [The hand of the clock luis been moving cvrr since the 
 commencement of the piece, and it now jioiuts tojiie. 
 Julia takes a long strip of muslin out if wirkbox, and 
 begins hemming it. 
 
 Entt^r Swiftly, l. h., starts at sfieing Jwia^ and looks amiouslij 
 
 round the room. 
 
 Jul. (affecting great surprise.} Mr. Swiftly ! 
 
 Swi. Yes, your most ol)edient ; beg pardon- 
 — that is — I think they must have shown me into the wrong 
 room — IMrs. Bevil 
 
 Jul. (woiking.) Oh, if you want to talk to Atint Bevil — 
 
 Swi. No, no — hang aunt iievil ; 1 beg your pardon, I 
 
 don't by any manner of means intend any disrtspect — but — a — 
 J anny. 
 
 Jul. Oh, Fanny; yes — she's somewhere or other; she'll be 
 here by-and-by, no doubt. But. i;ow I think of it, Mrs. Bevil 
 mentioned to me that you had written her a note t 
 
 Swi, Oh, she did ! 
 
 ■ 1 — I expected 
 
'7 ' 
 
 il' 
 
 l:!i 
 
 U 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OK, 
 
 Jul. And 8l»e told me — bless me, I can't thread my needle — 
 she told me yon wanted nn hour's conversation with me. 
 
 Swi. With i/<'«. maain ! 
 
 Jut. These needles are shocLing l)nd ; — yes, with n>e. 
 
 iSwi. (aside.) What u silly bliinderinff old body. 
 
 Jut. And havinf? notiiiufr particular to do, I said certainly, if 
 she had no objection — and so here 1 am. 
 
 Swi. Yes, so I see, and here am I • 
 
 Jul. Yes, here we are for one honr ; mind, yon came pre- 
 cisely at five, and you are to stay with me until six, and make 
 yourself exceedingly agreeable. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) Oh, there's no tolerating this ! yet I can't be so 
 very rude as to say I won't remain an hour — no, that will never 
 do. 
 
 Jul. Any thing the matter? — 1 thought of course you had 
 something particular to say. 
 
 Swi, Yes — no — nothing — no — nothing particular. 
 
 Jut. Oh, merely a morning visit? very well, amuse yourself; 
 sit down ; if it bores you to talk, don't exert yourself, I've a 
 thousand things to think of. 
 
 Swi. (witlkiug up a7td dovii the room.) Considerate tirftt^re. 
 Jul. WMiy don't you sit down ? do as you like though ; walk 
 about if its your way, you've plenty of time, its only tive minutes 
 after five. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) An hour all but five minutes ! 1 must say some- 
 thing, (aloud.) Hem — a — a — the — (aside) — what the devil .shall 
 
 1 
 
 say 
 
 Jul. Hush ! don't talk ; I've made a long stitch. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) No escape 'till the hour is over, it would seem 
 so rude; if I could but get upon a chair I might contrive to 
 poke the hands of that vile slow going clock on a bit. 
 
 Jul. (aside.) Poor man, how T pity him. 
 
 Swi. (looks at the cage, aside.) There are two poor little dicky 
 birds shut up together, I've a fellow feeling for them, poor 
 little feathered songsters. 
 
 Jul. I wonder what he is thinking about. 1 must attract his 
 notice. 
 
 Swi. (looks into the glass globe, aside.) Ah ! another pair of un- 
 fortunates, one with a gold tail, and one with a silver tail — 
 waggle, waggle, all day long, and day after day ; poor little 
 fishy, shiny, scaly individuals, how precious sick you must be of 
 one another. Oh dear, there's no ending this, I will get on a 
 chair and poke on the hands of the clock. 
 
 [Cautiously getting on a chair, puts it under the clock, 
 and stands on it with a parasol iti his hand, with which 
 he is tr}fing to alter the clock, Julia looks round. 
 
 Jul. What are you about? 
 
 Swi. (jumping down, he sits in the chair, with the parasol eX' 
 panded over his ?iead.) 1 ! oh, nothing — I'm %'ery apt to 
 
 Jul. Stand upon the chairs. Ha! ha! ha? what an odd 
 habit ; but do come here for one minute, and sit down quietly. 
 

 ' > 
 
 
 1 a 
 
 
 Ik 
 
 
 PS 
 
 
 e- 
 
 ' 
 
 // 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 ■^ 
 
 J 
 
 
 THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 15 
 
 I want to see if I have cut this piece of muslin straight ; you 
 hold thnt end so, and I'll hold this ; there, ihut » it. 
 
 [6'JiM him one end of a long strip of muslin, she takes tht 
 other end, and with u piir of scissors cuts it even, of 
 course approaches him until she is quite close. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) Upon my life she's exceedingly pretty ! 
 
 Jut, TImnk ye, tluit will do. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) 1 renuMnl)er ndtniring her figure this morning, 
 and really her face is 
 
 Jut. Von like travelling, don't you? 
 
 Swi. Oh, that is the \'ery 
 
 Jul, Slop! tiiat is my very own particular favourite theme. 1 
 never let any hody talk ahout travelling hut myself. — 1 know 
 all the roads, and all the inns, and all the lions, and all the 
 chinches, and nil the steeples ; those guide hooks are all paltry 
 things, I'm worth twenty of them; and as to hooks of tours, 
 none of them come up to my notion of what that sort of thing 
 ought to he. 1 take notes myself invariahly ; historical, de- 
 scriptive, l)otanical, fossilogical, and characteristic. 
 
 Swi. (aside.) And she can talk too. ^Vhat a metamorphosis ! 
 
 Jul. I dare say you have thought me dull and cold and odd 
 in my manner; don't answer, I hate people to interrupt; I 
 know it, I was so; but I am a variahle creature, and now my 
 mood is changed. 
 
 Swi, I'm delighted to hear it, 
 
 Jul, Yes, yes, that is all very well ; I know what you intended 
 to say, and its true as far as it goes ; hut are you not weary of 
 Naples .' do you not wish for wings to waft you away i 
 
 Swi, Why it is only two hours ago that 
 
 Jut. True, very true ; but two hours in one place — tedious, 
 insuj)portal)le : 1 love to live on wheels, travelling night and 
 (lay for weeks together. 
 
 Swi, Weeks! what no sleep ? 
 
 Jul. Sleep ! oh, no; when I travel I always hang my night- 
 cap on a peg ; beg your pardon, borrowed that phrase from 
 you ; vile phrase after all, not worth borrowing ; but as I said 
 before, on 1 go — on, on, on, day and night, lose nothing by it, 
 see all the prospects, hills, vales, cataracts, ruins, see them all, 
 have people on purpose to rouse me at the proper places, and 
 see every thing that's worth seeing bj torchlight. 
 
 Swi. Why you never told me all this before? 
 
 Jul. 'J'o be sure not ; if I had do you suppose I should have 
 told it to you now ? I never tell the same tiling twice over, un- 
 less to fusty old men with dilapidated memories. 
 
 Swt. Hut now that 1 do know it, what travelling companions 
 we should be .'* 
 
 Jul. Not a bit of it, quite a mistake ; two talkers in one close 
 , carriage would never do, nobody to listen : besides, my travel- 
 ling would take away your breath ; I, long for a continental 
 rail-road, and a steam-carriage, which from its extreme ve- 
 locity will be imperceptible to the nuked eye. 
 
 jj#-^' .1.* 
 
mm 
 
 
 liHH 
 
 16 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 Swi, Oh, mndam, there never were two people so much alike 
 its you and f. 
 
 Jill. Don't perceire it, sir ; looked in the glass half an-hour 
 ago, and don't perceive it, dare say you inean it fur a couipli- 
 inent ; but — 
 
 Sui. Nay, hear me 
 
 Jul. Hear you ! it's impossible to do otiierwise, you never 
 cease talking ! chatter, chatter, chatter. 1 never »>et with inch 
 a man, and as I do not indulge in such volubility, I'm obliged 
 to listen whether I will or no ! 
 
 Swi. Well now, really, I must say 
 
 Jul. There! you want to be talking asrain ; but 1 will have 
 my turn ; besides you must assist me here, I've some silk that 
 Las got terribly entangled. Sit you down on that little stool. 
 (SwiKTi.v sits on the Utile stool.) 
 
 Sui. (aside.) Upon my word ! but really she's one of the most 
 lovely women I ever 
 
 Jul. (ii(s dou-n on the chair before him.) Now for il — hold up 
 your hands so. (he holds up his hands, she places a skein of silk on 
 them, and uinds it off on a card.) 
 
 Jul. That's right— a little higher. 
 
 .Sui. Have you travelled in Kngland ? No, no, of course not. 
 
 Jul. Not 80 high, please. 
 
 Swi. Nobody does. Cits who see the lake of Conio, never 
 visit Windermere. 
 
 Jul Beg pardon, a little lower. 
 
 Su^i. I do though go every where. Highlands of Scotland, 
 Killarney, Giant's Causeway, Scarborough, Tenby, Cowes, 
 J'enzance. 
 
 Jul. Look on the silk, sir, not in my face, 
 
 Suj. Can't help it, it's the principle of attraction. 
 
 Jul. Perhaps you are tired ! 
 
 Sui. Not a bit, I could sit here three weeks, quiet as a silk- 
 worm on a mulberry leaf, (aside.) She is lovely, a ^/ou-worm 
 I should have said. 
 
 Jul. (puts hi/ silk.) There, that is done : now there's a paper 
 of pins, stick them all one by one into that pincui^hion, and 
 I'll tune my guitar. 
 
 Swi. (starts up.) Guitar ! the very thing I — 
 
 Jul. Sit down ngain pray ; mind the pins, (vuihes him sit 
 down, and he sticks the pins uwkuaidiii into the pincushion, occa- 
 sionally pricking his pngers.) Do you sing J yes, yes, I know 
 you'll say yes; all the men try now, and breathe forth little 
 confidential whispers, the words of which are strictly confined 
 to the man and the guitar. 
 Swi. But I — 
 
 Jul. Attend to the j.'ins ; but music to please me must be 
 something quite out of the common. 
 Swi. ('an you sing ? 
 
 Jul. Oh — just — no — nothing worth speaking of. 
 Swi. You've got a voice ? 
 Jul. Ay, that 1 have. . , ... 
 
 ^ 
 
 li'l' 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 17 
 
 5wi. Aiu\ an ear ( 
 
 Jul. I don't think, were I once taught, 1 should ever sing out 
 
 of tune. 
 
 Swi. (Jumps up, puttiiifj ;w;t of the jhiper of pim in his pocket.) 
 My dear madam, I've stuck in all the pins, and now pray do 
 let me teach you a pretty little sonj? ! 
 
 Jul. Oh ! I doat upon a pretty little song. 
 
 Swi. So do 1 ; give me the guitar, and now attend. 
 
 SWIFTLV SIHgJf. 
 
 Air.—'* Weber's last walt^." 
 
 To linger near thee, to see and hear thee 
 
 Shall he for ever my prayer, 
 Those eyes enchant me, oh, lady grant lue. 
 
 One smile to banish despair. 
 With thee I'll wander, still growing fonder. 
 
 Thy willing captive I'll prove ; 
 Though once a rorer, all that is over, 
 
 For thou ha.st taught me to love. 
 Thy notes I'm sure dear, are soft and pure dear, 
 
 Then let my song be thy choice ; 
 Don't pause a minute, at once begin it, 
 
 Oh, how 1 long to hear thy voice. 
 
 ./(//. (sings the two first lines out of tune, and then with great 
 triumph says:) What do you think of that ? 
 
 Swi. Oh, mercy ! not a note in tune. I thought I should 
 have died of it. 
 
 Jul. Shall I give you the rest ? 
 
 Swi. No, no, no, by no means, it will fatigue you. 
 
 Jul. Not at all, if you'll come here for an hour a day, I'll 
 sing to you all the time. 
 
 Swi. {aside.) I was beginning to be charmed with her; but 
 it's all over I 
 
 Jul. Oh! stop, stop, you must listen: sit there; I can't 
 sing if you look at me. 
 
 [Swiftly goes and sits hit the table, stopping his ears; 
 but as she proceeds looks round and takes a chair close 
 to her. 
 
 Song. ._ • 
 
 •* Love is the theme." 
 
 Love is the theme, love is the theme. 
 
 Of the minstrel all over the earth ; 
 List to the light-hearted chanson of France, i 
 
 Trace the burthen of German romance. 
 Hear the guitar in the sweet orange grove, 
 Of what sings the Spaniard ? oh, is it not love '. 
 Yes — love is the theme 
 
 Of the minstrel all over the earth. 
 
18 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 ; ^i 
 
 ?i 
 
 List to the soiig in the camp of tl«c brave, 
 Hear the sailor, the sport of the wave, 
 In court, or in cottage, wherever yon rove, 
 Of what sings the minstrel 1 Oh, is it not love ? 
 Yss — love is the theme, 
 Of the minstrel all over the earth.* 
 
 Swi. Rapture, transport, I never heard any thing so charm- 
 ing ! one more, I entreat, I implore. 
 
 [77ic hand of the clock lias been imperceptihlii moving, and 
 it now puints precisely to six. Jui.ia points to it, 
 
 Swi. Nay, madam, another hour ; one more. Another skein 
 of silk — several papers of pins, — anything you please : but give 
 me one more hour. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Bkvil, ii. ii. 
 
 Mrs. B. I trust, sir, your conference with my niece is 
 finished ? 
 
 Swi. No, no — that clock goes wrong— it gallops. 
 
 Jul. I'm quite ready to accompany you, aunt. But I almost 
 fancy there has been some mistake; Mr. Swiftly had nothing 
 particular to communicate to me; I therefore think it must 
 liave been my cousin Fanny that — 
 
 Swi. (aside.) Here's a dilemma, (aloud.) No, madam, you 
 wrong me ; I — I — won't you let me come to-morrow ? 
 
 Jul. You hear what he says, dear aunt ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Impossible, sir. Come, Julia. 
 
 Swi. One word. Shall you go to the masked ball ? 
 
 Jul. (nods and smiles.) I'm not quite sure. 
 
 Mrs. B. Come, Julia, come. 
 
 'S'lt'i. In what costume^ • 
 
 Jul. Don't know. 
 
 [Julia puts her finger to her lips, luughs, and shakes her 
 head. — Exeunt Mrs. Bevil aw/ Julia, u. ii. 
 
 Swi. Charming creature — worth forty thousand of her cold 
 repelling cousin ; and to that frosty individual have I been for 
 months breathing the warmest protestations — indefatigably 
 striving to thaw an iceberg ! and, what's worse, I do believe I 
 saw a little symptom of melting this morning, when she con- 
 descended to tell me what dress she would wear at the ball : 
 I'm in a devil of a scrape. After paying such exclusive atten- 
 tion to the North Pole, can 1 hope to prosper with my Love 
 among the Roses? Oh, Charles, Charles, what a harum- 
 scarum chap thou art! always getting into mischief and prick- 
 ing your fingers. Oh ! (puts his hand in his coat pocket and 
 pricks his fingers with the pins.) Hold, I've one chance yet ; that 
 gleam of sunshine was so unlike Miss Fanny, that she'll proba- 
 bly freeze again at night ; and egad should it be so, no breath 
 of mine shall ever take off the chill. I'm on slippery ground : 
 but to gain the adorable Julia, I'd skate across tite Bay of 
 Naples, on ice as thin as a wafer. [Exit, u ii. 
 
 * This song is published by Mews. Chappell, Bond-street. 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 lU 
 
 SCENE III. — A chamber in Mrs. Uevii.'s hotise. 
 
 Kilter O'Lkary, willi the miniature in his hand, l. n. 
 
 O'Lea. I'll tell him — I've made up my mind — oh, faith, I 
 must spake to my poor ill-trated master — he must know that 
 insiniatin^ yoiin^ fainale has a husband already, shut up in this 
 little red box. Here he couies, and I'll make no bones about 
 it, but tell him ail. 
 
 Enter Swiftly, r. u. 
 
 Swi. I can scarcely find tnv way out of this overgrown old 
 tenement. Ah, here is O'Leary. 
 
 O'Lea. Can I spake one word to you, late master of mine f 
 
 Swi. What do you want ? 
 
 O'Lea, Oh, sir, it's my conscience, I can't keep^ their bad 
 sacret any longer ; I come to divulge. 
 
 Swi. VVhy, what is the m:itter? 
 
 O'Lea. They're after using you shamful bad in this house. 
 
 Swi. What are they doing ? 
 
 O'Lea, There's nolu)dy listening to us two but ourselves — not 
 the way you came, 1 mean — if they heard me, they'd show me 
 the outside of th« door before a cat could lick her wliisker. I've 
 just fetched this thp';g from the room, where you and the young 
 lui.ss was, and there's nobody there now. 
 
 Swi, No — nobody but the dicky-birds and the water wag-tails. 
 
 O'La, Water wagtails ! Oh you manes tlie little red herrings 
 in the big white bottle ! Whisht — hush — Oh, faith and it's past 
 a joke, or a jew dy sprey ; youll faint away dead as a herring 
 when I tell ye— you loves one of them naces of Mrs. Devil — 
 IJevil, 1 mean. 
 
 Swi. Yes, the one that — 
 
 O'Lea, Yes, yes, in course, (aside.) He forgets how he scru- 
 tinised me about her state of health at the door this morning. 
 
 Swi. Well, go on, what of her ? 
 
 O'Lea. Well, listen — you see this bit of a red box ! 
 
 Swi, Well, well, what of it ? 
 
 O'Leurn. Wliy, it's husband to she. 
 
 Swi, What do you mean by husband to she ? 
 
 O'Learif. It's the effigies of Mr. Smith. 
 
 Swi, And who the devil is Mr. Smith ? 
 
 O'Learif. Why Mrs. Smith's husband, what's away. 
 
 Swi, And wlio is Mrs. Sujilh — do I know her ! 
 
 O'Leary. Know her ! faith and I believe you do too ; step 
 this way ; hush — if any living soul should hear me prevaricate 
 the particulars — Mrs. Smith is Mrs. Bevil's nace, that an, mar- 
 ried surreptitious like, at Horence — out of the Pope's eye I 
 
 Swi. Mercy on me, can it be possible — you have driven a 
 dagger into my heart, lacerated, torn my liner feelings into 
 shreds — it's a lie ; a horrid, loathsome, wicked lie, and I'll 
 shake the breath out of your body. 
 
 O'Leary. Here's the gratitude of the late master. 
 
 Swi. But what motive can he have for deceiving me ! Mar- 
 ried ! there's an end of hope, {seizes the picture.) 1 never in 
 
20 
 
 ONE HOUR ; OR, 
 
 
 my life saw such a disai^reeablelooking person — vile abomi- 
 nable daub — I could trample it under my feet. 
 
 O'Leary. Oh, don't think of it— she loves it dearly, looks 
 at it every quarter of an hour, and faith, I'll be bound, pops 
 it under her downy pillow in the night time. 
 
 Swi. The man seems to grin out of the ivory at me. Is there 
 no earthquake to swallow me up — oh, for floods of lava— I 
 wonder if Vesuvius smokes, {mm to the window.) 
 
 O'Leary. Not to-day, your honour. I suppose he's out of 
 backy ; but I do — p'raps you like a pipe. 
 
 Swi. Hold your tongue, sir ; leave the room. 
 
 O'Leary. Well, but— 
 
 Swi. begone — vanish, (he paces the room.) 
 
 O'Leary. (aside.) Faitli, and if Vestivy don't smoke, here's 
 an eruption with tlie cratitr, at all events ! Oh, well I'm gone — 
 better take a pipe to discompose your nerves. [Exit, i.. h. 
 
 Swi. What is to be done! carry her off by force, get her 
 divorced from this abominable Smith, and then marry her ray- 
 self ? No. no — disreputable, impracticable — loves him no 
 doubt — puts his paltry little picuire under her pillow. Besides, 
 what shall I do about her cousin Fanny ? At all events, to 
 this abominable ball 1 must go, for, as a man of honour, I 
 must come to an explanation with her. But Julia, Julia — 
 confound it, 1 must call her Julia— Mrs. Smith. That ever I 
 should live to call her Mrs. Smith. [Exit, l. h. 
 
 SCENE THK LAST.— /4 splendid Ball-room, with a distant 
 view of S'aples, Vesuvius, and the Bay, by moonlight. — Masked 
 Jigures, in various costumes, are finishing a qiuidrille. 
 
 Chorus. . 
 
 Naples is ever joyous and gay. 
 Dancing and music closing the day; 
 Come with a niask, or with no mask at all, 
 Welcome you'll find at the Carnival Ball. 
 
 A Waltz. 
 
 jEnter Julia, in Neapolitan costume, with Mrs. Bevil and Fanny, 
 
 from centre. 
 
 Jul. He is not yet come : do you see him Fanny 1 
 Fan. No, but depend on it he'll soon arrive. Take care you 
 support your character. 
 
 Jul. Never fear; he shall take me for a native of Bella Na- 
 
 poll. 
 
 [Exit, R. H, 
 
 Neapolitan Song, with the original words. 
 
 Chorus renewed. 
 
 Naples is ever joyous and gay, 
 Dancing and music closing the day ; 
 Come with a mask, or with no mask at all, 
 Welcome you'll tinU at the Carnival Ball. 
 
 V . 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 21 
 
 • SwiTTLY dances on. 
 
 Welcome Italian, Spaniard, and Greek, 
 Strangers to look on, friends when you speak j 
 What though all nations honour the ball, 
 Love is the language common to all. 
 Though you may mask, 
 I never doubt, 
 , . Easy the task. 
 
 To find you out. 
 Beauty her veil 
 
 Long cannot keep, 
 Soon without fail 
 Forth she will peep. 
 Poncinella, 
 Tarantella, 
 Lazaroni, 
 Macaroni, 
 Oh happy day ! 
 
 Sings Neapolitan Song. 
 
 Swi. My brain is in a whirl — I must i>ing, I must dance, T 
 must keep moving, or I shall throw myself on the earth in a 
 paroxysm of despair. 1 know what I'll do — any thing to ba- 
 nish thought — I'll ask that pretty little girl to dance a taran- 
 tella with me. Come here. 
 
 He goes to a lady who is not mnsked, in a Neapolitan costume, she 
 advances with him, and they dance a Neapolitan tarantella. After 
 the dance, they go off together — maskers pass occasionally at the 
 back. 
 
 Enter Swiftly, with Julia, masked, from centre. 
 
 Jul. Do you know me ? 
 
 Swi. Yes, madam, and I was seeking you. 
 
 Jul. Indeed ! who am I then ? 
 
 Swi. The fair Fanny — am I right ? 
 
 Jul. (astde.) He mistakes me, as I could wish ; for, after 
 such a sudden change, I shall very much like to hear what my 
 gentleman will say for himself to the lady he has abandoned. 
 
 Swi. You do not answer me : your name is Fanny .' 
 
 Jul. Had I intended to make myself known to inquisitive 
 people, do you suppose I should have come here in a mask ? 
 
 Swi. I am sure I am right ; and, as I said before, you are 
 the very person I was in search of. 
 
 Jul. (aside.) In search of ! I suppose he is going to change 
 hack again. 
 
 Swi.- 1 have a confession to make, (aside.) Though Julia is 
 married, Fanny is sure to hear of my attentions to her, and she 
 shall hear it from myself first. 
 
 Jul. Indeed ! I am no Father Confessor ; you had better 
 seek — 
 
 Sm. No, no, to you alone I must confess. You — that i» — 
 
22 
 
 ONE noun ; OR, 
 
 •B!' 
 
 1 — mean, madam, both of us. (aside.) Hang me, if I know 
 how to bepin. 
 
 Jul. Well, sir, I am all attention. 
 
 Swi. Well, madam, I will be as brief as possible. For many 
 months, madam — I — 1 — I have — ventured — with the — utmost 
 respect — to — to — to 
 
 Jul. Yes, yes ; you have been making incessant love to the 
 Fanny that you take me for. 
 
 Swi. You forget that this morning you told me you should 
 wear that dress. 
 
 Jul Did I ? Why, yes, I believe I was more kind to you to- 
 day than usual ; more complying ; but you know, sir, perse- 
 verance will, in the end, conquer all diflSculiies j and really 
 your following us to Naples was — 
 
 Swi, IWadam ! 
 
 Jul. Sir! 
 
 Swi. (aside.) Whj', she's actually going to accept me. I must 
 nip that in the bud; for, though Julia is married, I'll never 
 marry any one else, (aloud.) Madam ; chilled by your inces- 
 sant coldness, I — (aside.) What a thing to tell her. 
 
 Jul. Well, sir ? 
 
 Swi. I, this day, relinquished my presumptuous hopes, and — 
 
 Jul. Sir ! 
 
 Swi. And transferred my — my attentions to your cousin. 
 
 Jul. (affecting agitation.^ To my cousin ! Oh, this is too cruel. 
 
 Swi. There — I might have known how it wotild be. She'll 
 faint, she'll die; go into a decline; haunt me for ever. Don' 
 take it to heart, ma'am, pray, ma'am. I'm not so fascinating 
 as you think me. 
 
 Jtd. Water ! water ! my mask — take it off. 
 
 \_He catches her ; takes off her mask, and she jumps auuy 
 
 laughing. 
 
 Swi. Julia! cruel woman. Laughed at too; this is barbarity ! 
 
 Jtd. Nay, there is no harm in laughing at so innocent a 
 frolic. 1 have the best reasons for knowing that Fannj will not 
 lament your desertion. Come, if you wish for my company, 
 let us join the dancers. 
 
 Swi. Dancers ! how can you trifle with my feelings thus ? 
 You think 1 am not aware of your situation, but I am. 
 
 ./«/. (aside.) My situation! whatcan he mean? 
 
 Swi. Yes, madam, my faithful O'Leary told me all. Look at 
 this picture, madam. (Shows miniature.) 
 
 Jul. Oh, yes, 1 see — Smith's picture ; very like him too. You 
 don't know him ? no, if you did, 1 think you'd like him. He's 
 a nice little man in his way. 
 
 Swi. In my way, madam — very much in my way; and though 
 you may talk thus carelessly of your husband — 
 
 Jul. (aside.) My husband. 
 
 Swi. You surely should not trifle thus with the feelings of an 
 honourable man. 
 
 / ' ^ aside.) Delightful. I must tease him a little bit. 
 
THE CARNIVAL BALL. 
 
 23 
 
 My husband is 
 
 Enter Mns. Beviv, n.u. 
 Mrs, B. Oh, Julia, who do you think is just arrived from 
 KnRland ?— Mr. Smith ! 
 Su'i. Mr. Smith ! Distraction. 
 Jul. Mr. Smith! how apropos. 
 
 Enter Fanny, h. h. 
 
 F^/H. Julia, have you heard the news? 
 arrived ! 
 
 .Sui. (in amazement.) Husband ! Mr. Smith her husband ! 
 
 Jul (laughing.) Oh, that is not my Mr. Smith. 
 
 Swi. But have you got a Mr. Smith at all ? No, no. I see 
 my error. I shall be delighted to make Mr. Smith's ac- 
 quaintance. Mrs. Smith and I are very old friends ; I hope we 
 shall now he cousins. iMrs. Bevil you are the aunt of divinities, 
 and therefore of course a dirinity yourself. Julia, jou are — 
 'gad. I've no words to say what you are, but you will be — 
 ' Jul. What? 
 
 iSwi. Mrs. Swiftly. , 
 
 Fan. My hushand brings me excellent news — his friends 
 have sanctioned our marriage. 
 
 Sui. Oh, then, we'll all go to England together. Julia and I 
 will be maried at the Knibassy, and then we shall travel a very 
 agreeable family party. 
 
 Jul. Indeed — upon my word ! Well, if you prove your con- 
 stancy, and behave yourself well. 
 
 Su-i. Yes. 
 
 Jul. Exceedingly well. 
 
 Swi. Go on. 
 
 Jul. Then, at the ey ion of ten years, I may be induced — 
 
 Sui. Ten years ! i,'ive you my honour I couldn't wait — I 
 would if I could, but I couldn't ; I know I should carry you off 
 bv sea'or land in some extraordinary manner ; I give you due 
 notice. Ten years! I should fret myself to fiddlestrings ; 
 there'd be nothing of me left. 
 
 .fvl. I'll not abate an hour. 
 
 Mrs. B. Nay, nay, you shall be tormented no longer ; prove 
 that you deserve her, and she shall be yours. 
 
 Jul. Upon my word, good people, you seem to manage mat- 
 ters all your own way. 1 suppose every body is satisfied, and 
 I hope that Wr, Swiftly is not the only person here to whom 
 the time has appeared short. Friends, have you been pleased 
 with my company 1 If so, visit me often. My cards are dis- 
 tributed every morning, and you will find me at home every 
 evening for the rest of the season. Pray drop in sometimes, if 
 only for one hour. 
 
 (The Chorus is repeated, and the Curtain falls on a dance.') 
 
 WHITING, BJ.AUFORT HOUSR, STUAVll. 
 
 1p: ■, 
 
m^. 
 
 1 
 
 The Bo 
 
 iht J 
 
 C 
 
 ill 
 
 1 
 
 8 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES 
 
 A MUSICAL PIECE 
 
 BY 
 
 MORRIS BAR NEXT, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 The Bold Dratjoons; Spirit of the Rhine ; Yellow Kidn ; Out on 
 
 iht Ltiost ; Mrs. G.; Tact; Lillian Gervai^e ; Saruli the 
 
 Creole; Married Unmarried; Poicer and Princijile; 
 
 Serve Hint Right ; Circumstantial Evidence, 
 
 4'c., Sfc. 
 
 THE MUSIC BY JOHN BARNETT. 
 
 LoNDOir; 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 PUBUSHBB, 
 
 89, 6TBAN0. 
 
 N«w York : 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON. 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 
 122, NASSAU fiXRfiST. 
 

 m 
 m 
 
 ll 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 First performed at the St. James's Theatre^ 
 January I2th. 1836. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 MR. SEQUENCE - 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES 
 VIVID - . - . 
 ANTONIO - 
 
 NINA . . . . 
 
 - Mr. Strickland. 
 
 • Mr. Barneit. 
 
 • Mr. Selby. 
 
 - Mr. Hollingsworth. 
 
 - Miss P. Hoeton. 
 
 SCENE— DOVER. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 Monsieur Jacques. — Old dark smalls, grey worsted 
 
 stockings, rather darned, slippers, dark waistcoat, grey 
 
 woollen morning gown, iron grey wig, shirt collar 
 
 open. 
 Sequence. — White trowsers, stockings and shoes, light 
 
 vest, brown coat, white neckerchief. 
 Vivid. — Dark trowsers, blue coat buttoned up, boots, 
 
 black hat, gloves. 
 Antonio. — Black smalls and stockings, shoes with 
 
 buckles, black vest, brown straight cut coat, stick, 
 
 gloves. 
 N1XA.—0A handsome but plain white dress, bonnet, £cc. 
 
 .li 
 
 ,^ aa t* 
 
 * •• 4 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 SCENE. — An Attic. Door, l. n., leading to another room. /^ 
 door, R. H. W'mdow in Jlat, throuf/k which is seen a view t^ 
 ike sea. A pianoforte, l. h., upon which is scattered loose 
 sheets of music (MS.) and a full score. An old book case in 
 flat, R. II., containing a few odd volumes and printed music. A 
 small table and buffet — some chairs, one or two of which are 
 bottomless. Theivhole scene wears an air of extreme poverty. 
 At the rising of the cxirtain a knocking at door^ r. h. 
 
 Enter Sequence, r, h. door. 
 
 Seque. (putting Jiis head in at the door.) I suppose I raaf 
 come in ? Eh ! the orchestra empty ? Madam, follow you? 
 leader. Mind the stairs ! — this way, I am used to act as con- 
 ductor — tliis way ! 
 
 Enter Nina, r. h. door. 
 
 I am really very sorry you should have had to mount four 
 octaves — I mean four stories high. Quite a bit of luck to have 
 had the honour of meeting you last night at Signora Squeakini's 
 concert. Would it be taking a very great liberty to ask if you 
 are musical? 
 
 Nina. I have studied music from my infancy. 
 
 Seque. Bravo ! then the affair, I trust, is settled ; you 
 really must take my apartment. I am perfect master of every 
 instrument — am principal kettle-drum at the Dover Philhar- 
 monic, and, though I say it, I have produced some works. 
 
 Nina. I am aware that the public is abeady indebted to you 
 for several charming ballads; the one sang last night was 
 singularly beautiful. 
 
 Seqje. Oh, what ! my " Azure Eyes ? " You have not yet 
 seen my " Radiant Locks ? " The young amateurs prefer *' My 
 Faithkas Brides* though / think very little of that one myaelf. 
 
 iJSjtM -.^.-^ 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 ! ! I'll' lil 
 
 ^^«iili 
 
 n 
 
 , ..... 
 
 Nina. I believe this is the apartment you intend for my ser- 
 vant ? From what you said, I supposed it much hirger. In- 
 deed, Antonio is rather a friend than a servant. 
 
 Seque. You have not seen all, mfidam ; there is another, 
 much larger and more commodious, f intend to have them 
 hotli fresh papered ; chenibims blowing trombones — quitt- 
 charming, if your servant is musical. (;/oes towards door., l. h.) 
 Perhaps you would like to see the other room, (tries the do,,, 
 and finds it locked.) Dear mu, it's locke«l ! (peepiiuj thronfjh tin. 
 keyhole.) Not up yet ; at this time of day, too— forty bars rest. 
 A lazy old fellow, madam ; but I'll soon rouse him, 
 
 Nina. Do not disturb any one, I beg. I can call again. 
 
 Skque. There is no need of ceremony with him. He's a 
 horrid bad lodger — owes three quarters' rent. 
 
 Nina, {fjoing towards piano.) A musician? 
 
 Seque. Yes — um — a sort of musician, a poor devil ! He ustd 
 to give leesons, but it wouldn't do ; his pupils found him rather 
 cracked^ so he soon lost the few he had. Bless you, he \\\\\ 
 sit for hours at that window as though he expected tlie arrival 
 of some vessel : he fancies he sees it sailing towards hi in- 
 rushes down stairs in 6-8 time, and watches the face of every 
 pas-senger as they come ashore ; then, disappointed, his head 
 drops, and he wanders back to this wretchedly furnished room : 
 the furniture is his oivn., madam. 
 
 Nina. Unfortunate being ! 
 
 Seque. Yon perceive there is no necessity to— (going to 
 door, L. H.) 
 
 Nina. Hold, sir ! your story of the poor old man has much 
 interested me : he must not be turned out on my account. 
 
 (she goes to piano and looks at the loose music. 
 
 Seque. Well, madam, if you do not wish him to go, your 
 servant can occupy the other room ; for there is another lodger 
 on this floor : he's a poet, but unfortunately as destitute as the 
 other. 
 
 Nina, (who has been looking at a sheet of music.) This is 
 very strange ! Why tliis is the ballad that was last night sang 
 at the concert. 
 
 Seque. (confused.) My ballad? Oh, yes, yes, it is my 
 ballad. You see, from notives of charity, I frequently give this 
 poor devil my nmsic to coj>>/. (aside.) The old fool has kept the 
 original ; I thought I had them both. I'll take better care for 
 the future, (footsteps heard.) I think I hear your servant. 
 
 Enter Antonio, r. h. door. 
 
 Antonio.) Have you made any di» 
 
 j:!inie 
 
 Nina, (crossing to 
 covery? 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 5 
 
 Antonio. ((Ufide to Nina.) It is of tliat I wish to tell you. 
 Nina. I engage your apartmentof and will to-morrow tak» 
 poesession. Come, Antonio. 
 
 As they are going, enter Vivid at door l. ii., rapidly, with a 
 sheet of {taper in his hand ; he does not perceive them. 
 
 Vivid. My dear friend, here is the finale, (see^ Nina.) A 
 thousand jMirdons, madam ! 
 
 Nina, (aside.) Again this young man ! 
 
 Vivid. As I live, my incognita! 
 
 Antonio, (to Sec^uence.) Who is that person? 
 
 Sewue. Oh, the old man's fellow lodger, (to Nina.) The 
 poet of whom I spoke to you. 
 
 Nina. If I mistake not, we have met before. 
 
 Vivid. Yes, miss — madam — on the beach. 
 
 Anton ro. Come, madam, we have much to do. 
 
 Nina. Yes, let us begone. 
 
 Skque. Allow me, madam — (crosses to r. h. door.) I'll con- 
 duct you down ; take care of the step— this way, madam, if 
 you please. 
 
 (Sequence goes out first ; Vivid hoics timidly to Nina, who 
 curtaeys and goes out^folloived hy Antonio, r. ii. door.) 
 
 Vivid. She here I in the humble apartment of my poor 
 friend ! What could have caused this visit ? Perhaps, like a 
 guardian spirit, to succour him. I dared not even look at her. 
 (runs to ivindorc.) What if I follow and ascertain where she 
 resides V No, no, it would be worse than folly. I will leave my 
 finale and seek one more glance, though I feel 'tis madness. 
 
 Exit hastily^ door r. h. 
 
 Enter Jacques at door r. h. \ he is absent and jicnsive, his 
 arms folded. He walks about the stage slowly ; suddenly 
 rushes to the windoiv — returns — throics himself into a chairs- 
 sighs despondingly — rises and draws from his bosom a small 
 note. — Music. 
 
 Jacques, (reading.) " Pars ! fuis ! mon cher Jacques ; je 
 volerai sur tes traces aussitot que je pourrai ; bientot nous noua 
 reverrous." (repeats, icithout reading.) " Go ! fly away, my 
 dear Jacques ; I will be upon your heel as soon as I am able ; 
 soon we shall to see one anoder again." Here is twenty years 
 ago dat she write this, and she has not yet arrive ! De age, or 
 rader de deep suffering have ride mon visage — ruled my fac€ 
 wid lines, and she has not yet arrive, (he kisses the letter.) Ah, 
 dese are not de light words to be brake — " I will be upon your 
 heel &B soon aa I am able." Have she not been able yet to be 
 apon my heel? Mais, I am tranquille— «lle viendra. Ah, 
 
 
6 MONSIEUR JACQUES. . . 
 
 oui — yes — Bhc t>hall come, becose she know dat I expect her dis 
 twenty years, (hcfohh the Itttcr curcfnUy and places it in his 
 bosom.) Mariana ! chcro Mariana ! let us to look once again. 
 (</oes to window.) Rion ! noting but fle boat of do fish man ! 
 (returns.) Ah, it shall not ho. no more to-day dat I strain my 
 eye. Mais — but — dcmain — to-morrow, ixjut-etre — perhajtw — 
 yes, I do expect her to-morrow, to-morrow I 
 
 AIll. 
 
 Dat word wich console us — " To-morrow, to-morrow,** 
 He bring wid him hope when he come to du heart- 
 Mariana, my wife, come and banish my sorrow. 
 And jamais— non, never — again shall we part I 
 
 When, day after day, I feel life away wasting. 
 And dis hand vitch was fort tremble now more and more ; 
 
 Now my hair it is silver'd— no happiness tasting — 
 Still " to-morrow " I vispare — but soon 'twill be o'er. 
 
 Allons! allons! let me drive far away from me dose idcjw 
 (goes to piano, sees paper that Vivid has left.) Qu'cst-ce-que- 
 c'est ca ? vat is dis ? Ah, my finale ! A la bonne heure ! 
 Vivid have already been here ; he are so good boy — he not had 
 wish to wakes me. (reads paper.) 
 
 " Sound the clarion ! strike the drum ! 
 War her flag of courage waving — 
 The warriors cry — ' They come ! they come ! * 
 Patriot hearts all danger braving ! " 
 
 Tres bien ! it is capital — and my musique is a capital also. 
 This night, pendant le silence — when all was hush, I compose 
 my overture ; and the emotion vich it make me prove that my 
 musique is handsome. Apres my dejeuner, after my breakfast, 
 I shall compose dis finale, (opens buffet.) Mon dieu ! I forgot^ — 
 il n'y a plus rien ! dere is noting no more leave, (shuts buffet.) 
 Ah ! c'est vrai — it is true ; I rt member I eat yesterday for my 
 Bouper the little bit fromage — the cheese that remained me. 
 Never mind, it is already late, and the morning will soon be 
 finish. Tinking of my opera, I shall forget my stomach. Let 
 me see — voyons le premier vers — dis is de fii^st verse. 
 
 *' Sound the clarion, strike the drum." 
 
 (he rushes to the piano, and arranges the loose sheets ; begins 
 to play, trying several motions to the above words.) 
 
 Enter Sequence, r. h. door. 
 Seque. Ah, there he is composing, and composed! He may 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 7 
 
 keep thiB little room ! for by taking a trifle off his rent, I can 
 have as much of his music as I want, which I can publish 
 under my own name, as I have done before. Friend Jacques ! 
 
 jAcgUKS. (ahiorbedS^ Dis is a triumph march — I must liave 
 an accomimniment of eight horns, six trom^ttes, five trom- 
 bones, and four long drums ! I don't like lum myself — mais, 
 but <le publique like very much noise, {he plays again and 
 ^sing.i) — " Sound the clarion, strike the drum." 
 
 Skqtje. Friend Jacques ! 
 
 Jacques, (utill singing)-' 
 
 *' Sound the clarion, strike the drum." 
 
 Seque. {louder.') Good morning, Mr. Jacques. 
 
 Jacques. Ah? c'est voiis, Monsieur Sequence — bless a my 
 Boul, it am you ! You have come by chance on purpose to carry 
 away wid you the two romance ? 
 
 Skque. Why, not exactly ; but I can take them at the same 
 time, (aside.) Now to open the concert. The fact is, I have 
 conic to say— 
 
 Jacques. Oh, oui, yes — mais — ^but, je suis bicn fuche, I am 
 sorry very much, great deal, but I have had no time— <le 
 niusique is not ready — was malade yesterday — very sick — bad 
 of de head— oh, very — I was oblige to a good hour, to go to 
 my sleeps. 
 
 Seque. {pointedly.) I suppose then you were playing after 
 you were in bed ? 
 
 Jacques. Comment? 
 
 Seque. You were composing ? 
 
 Jacques. Oh, no ! I was snoring my nose, like one bassoon 
 
 Seque. Oh! then I suppose you got up in your sleep, and 
 hamuier'd away till two this morning ? — hem ! 
 
 Jacques. Comment ? (emlarrassed.) till how many ? 
 
 Seque. Till two. 
 
 Jacques. Den you have hear ? 
 
 Seque. A most charming overture. 
 
 Jacques. Ah, ah ! den you have found him good — eh ? 
 
 Seque. It's a masterpiece ! is it Mozart or Rossini? 
 
 Jacques. Non, monsieur, it was my own! (then^ with a con- 
 fidential air.) Ecoutez ! my opera iij at last linish — c'est mon 
 ouverture que vous avez entendue — dat was my overture vitcb 
 you have hear. 
 
 Sequ^. Really ! {aside.) I couldn't have believed it I 
 
 Jacques. I have now no more to do as de finale 
 
 (he play" with hisjingers while he sings 
 
 Sound the clarion, strike the drum I 
 On battle field, dey cry — ' We como I * *• 
 
 i^JkXt^ 
 
11 
 
 f'' 
 
 8 
 
 M0N8IEUB JACQUES. 
 
 Srque. ^aside.) An opera 1 an opera ! Now if I oould but 
 manage it, it would set all Dover by the ears. I'd have it pro- 
 duced in London. I should be called upon the stage — ^praised 
 by the press — my portrait lithographed ; and as I walketl in the 
 streets, people would point at me and exclaim, " There goes 
 the celebrated Sequence ! " Zounds ! it's worth the trial ! 
 
 Jacques, (absorbed.) — 
 
 " On battle field dey cry — * We come ! ' " 
 Pram ! Pram 1 Pram ! 
 
 Seque. It's a pity that this opera, the fruit of your talent 
 and your old age, should be entirely lost. 
 
 Jacques. Lost ! And what for it shall be lost? 
 
 Seque. Because, my worthy friend, you can't have the 
 slightest hope ever to see it performed ; it's without the pale of 
 reason ? 
 
 Jacques. Vat is dat pail ? 
 
 Seque. You doubtless intend to present it to one of the 
 Metropolitan theatres? You must bo aware that you could not 
 connnand attention. 
 
 Jacques. Et pourquoi que non ? — and what for not? Is it 
 because my costume annonce de want and de pauvretc ? 
 
 Seque. Alas, my friend, it is but too true ; it is hard — 
 cruel ! but believe me, your opera will die with you. 
 
 Jacques. How ! my opera shall die wid me ! Non, non ! je 
 te dit, it shall immortalize my name, for a long time, never no 
 more ! My opera die wid me ! de labour of my old age ; aU 
 gone away, for noting at all ! 
 
 Sec^ue. There might, to be sure, be a plan to get it per- 
 formed — but you wouldn't listen to it. 
 
 Jacques. I not listen— dites moi — tell to me — oh, parlez — 
 speak ! 
 
 SK<irE. Well, then, since you are willing to listen to sound 
 sense, I will speak — the true artiste is above being caught by 
 the ilatterics of the world — ho is sufficiently recompensed when 
 he hears his opera performed : as to the rest, its all fiddle- 
 de-dee ! 
 
 Jacques. Yes, but what has my opera to do wid dis fiddle 
 dee ? 
 
 Seque. I am coming to that directly. Now, taking it for 
 granted that your opera will never see daylight — rather than it 
 should be lost, I have no objection to buy it of you, in tlie same 
 way. that I have bought the rest of your music, and I will 
 lUidertake to get it produced. 
 
 Jacques. Sell my opera ! Oh, jamais ! never ! 
 
 Seque. Oh, very well ! perhaps when you think over it 
 
 m 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. P 
 
 you'll change your mind. Good morning, (going — retnrna.) 
 Friend Jacques, I have your intereet more at heart than you 
 think : I am considore*! a great composer — I am rich — an opera 
 from me would be receired and pnxluced at once. Now, what 
 does it matter if it comes before the public in the name of 
 Jacques, Tiinkins, or Tomkins. You will luive the satisfaction 
 of hearing it — you shall have a front seat in the dress boxes — 
 the theatre will ho crammed — the lea<ler'8 tap is heard — an 
 awful silence reigns around — until the last crash is buried in 
 the shouts and bravos of an a.stonished and deafened audience. 
 
 Jacques, (delighted.) And I shall see all dat V 
 
 SE(iUE. I have said it. Give me but the MS. and I'll give 
 you a receipt for your arrear of rent — for the various otiier 
 Bums which you owe me — and further, a twcnty-ixjund note. 
 
 Jacques. Twenty pounds ! And I shall see act my opera ? 
 Twenty pounds ! I shall be able wid it to reward Vivid for all 
 dat he has done for me. 
 
 Seque. Well, you agree. 
 
 Jacques, (hesitatingly.) Eh bien ! Nous vcrrons — we shall 
 Bee. Je ne dis pas non — I not say no — I not .say yes ; — you 
 are so hurry. 
 
 Seque. Well, then, I consider the affair as arranged. Give 
 me your opera, and you shall have the money, (going towards 
 the piano.) 
 
 Jacques, (goes up and seizes the score.) Vat, you will take 
 my opera — toute de suite ? so very by-and-bye ! Non, non ! 
 
 Eas encore — not yet. (to his opera.) And shall you leave my 
 ouse so soon ? — for five year, every day, every hour you have 
 calm my despair ! rest near to rae a little longer, before I say 
 you my last adieu ! 
 
 Seque. Well, I have no particular objection to leave it a 
 little longer with you ; and, in the meantime, I'll draw out 
 your receipt, and get your twenty pounds, (goes to door — re- 
 turns.) But remember, not a word — the usual secrecy. 
 Jacques. Oui, oui! yes! (sits at piano^ buried in thought.) 
 
 Enter Vivid, r. ii. d. 
 
 Sfque. Well, Mr. Vivid, have you any money for me yet ? 
 
 Vivid. I have not ; but I hope very soon to have some, and 
 then — 
 
 Sbque. Very soon !— the old put off. I have been too 
 j)atient — too liberal—but you'll hear from me. Good morning, 
 sir. Jacques, remember ! Exit r. door 
 
 Vivid. " Hear from rae !" — but I cannot think of him now 
 —brighter visions fill my soul. My efforts to overtake her 
 were vain. 
 
10 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 Jacques, (ahsorhed at piano.) Twenty pounds ! Dat will 
 take ine to Palerrae — to Palerme !— dat I may see her once 
 again before to die ! 
 
 Vivid, (sees him.) Poor old man! Palerme I ever repeating 
 that word when his reason forsakes him. 
 
 Jacques. Twenty pounds ! and la gloire ! 
 
 ViAii). His visions are ever of fortune and happiness! 
 Jacques, my friend ! 
 
 jACCiUKS. (rising.) Ah, Vivid— c'eat vous — et bien? — quoi 
 denouveau? votnews? 
 
 Vivid. None to comfort. I had hoped by the sale of my 
 second volume to have obtained at least the means of allevi- 
 ating our present distress — but the bookseller has refused to 
 purchase. 
 
 Jacc^ues. Vat a rascal fellow — ven de verses are so hand- 
 some! — mais, console yourself, rnon ami, for I have some 
 beautiful news for you. 
 
 Vivid, (aside.) How unfortunate ? How to ascertain her 
 address ? 
 
 Jacques. Qu'avez-vous done ? Vot is de matter ? You am 
 been for dis last two, tree days, tout triste, and dull, and 
 absently — and I am of it beginning to be very fidgets. 
 
 Vivid. Nay, 'tis nothing. 
 
 Jacques. I am sure dere is something on de top of your 
 head — I have remark it — you have always confide your evils to 
 your old friend — vat is den now ? am I no more your confiance 
 —am I no more your friendship ? 
 
 Vivid. Banish such thoughts — you are my only friend ! I 
 Lave striven to hide all from you — but 'tis vain ! my brain 
 burns while I confess my insanity. 
 
 Jacques. You make me frightful — depechez done — tell to 
 me vat is it. 
 
 Vivid. I love ! without hope — madly love ! 
 
 Jacques. Quel horreur ! You love ? Malheureux ! 
 
 Vivid. Oh, if you knew how beautiful she is ! Twenty times 
 have I met her in my solitary walks ; her eyes have encountered 
 mine — I have deeply drank of their fascination. Yesterday, 
 while roaming despondingly on the beach, my soul filleil with 
 visions of htr elysian brightness — a music out-rivalling the 
 music of the blest arrested me. Judge, oh ! judge my rapture ! 
 those verses were min« — mine ! Drunk with ecstacy, I ex- 
 claimed, " Happy the poet thus able to dim that beaming eye 
 ■with the holy tear of sympathy ! " 
 
 Jacques. He also d« victim of love I (sinks into a reverie.) 
 
 Vivid. Judge mj astonishment, when bri ying your finale 
 I found, in this room, my incognita in conversation witli 
 Sequence. You do not listen ! 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 11 
 
 Jacques. Lore ! Oh, my friend, bewan' of it. And more, 
 for de grande dame, de rank lady. Oh, "S'ivid, prenez garde. 
 I have never speaks you of moi-meme — of niy!>elf— of de days 
 dat are over. You ave always seen me poor and old, and you 
 ave takes me by de hand widout to know me ; it is time dat you 
 t;hall be more acquaint vid de histoire of your poor old friend. 
 Sit yourself near to me. (Vivid brings fonrard two chairs — 
 they .sit.) It is a triste histoire — a story th;i<- is melancholick ; 
 but it A\ ill be lesson to you. 
 
 Vivid. Nay, if it pain you — (he draws his chair nearer to 
 Jacques.) 
 
 Jacques, (after having seemed to collect his thoughts.) I was 
 not born to ave de happiness, for my moder die ven I vas a 
 vary little boy — good vile ago. I ave evince de talent for de 
 musiciue, and my fader encourage it ; at nineteen year old he 
 die also — vidout to leave me much money. An opportunity 
 offer hin;.self to go into Italy, and I take hold of him. I go to 
 Palenne. Palenne ! Palermo ! ah, my brain burn only at dc 
 souvenir of dat cite. 
 
 Vivid. Compose yourself, Jacques. 
 
 Jacques. It was at dis time I did acquaintance make vid dc 
 Count San Marco^man proud and rempli d'hauteur. He ap- 
 point me de teacher of his daughter. Oh, my friend, how was 
 she different to her fader ! Noting so beautiful never struck my 
 eye ; she vas von ange ! — she vas de beau ideal : you cannot see 
 one times vidout to love her ; — et moi, and myself, while six 
 montlis I am go every day to give her de lesson. I do not know 
 how it vas, because my passion made me almost mad ! mais, 
 one night we were alone — I found myself at her foots — I con- 
 fess my love — she did not seeks to fly avay from me ; for 
 Heaven— de bon dieu — have mark our two souls for de love 
 and de unite. 
 
 Vivid. You were happy ? 
 
 Jacques. Happy ! I vas almost to mad. Mais, one night — 
 oh, my friend ! one dreadful night — a knock came to my door ; 
 I say to de knocker " er.trez ! " A female wid a veil present 
 herself—it was Mariana ! " Jacques," she say to me, " my 
 fader vish to sacrifice me to a marriage detestable ; but I am 
 Italienne, and I love you. Let us this night fly avay — a vais- 
 seau go from here to England— come — viena ! " How happy 
 dat I was you can tink ; we went to part — we reach de sheeps — 
 de signal to depart is give — I press Mariana to my heart— de 
 tear of joy trickle in her eye. We sail for two days ; but vat 
 is den dat sheep dat cut de wave and ride wid speed behind us ? 
 {he rises and seems to show Vivid the sea, ivhich he imagines he 
 seei' he/ore him^ and towards which he moves his hand^ imitating 
 
 -ytk*'' -'^ 
 
IS 
 
 MONSIEUB JACQUES. 
 
 i^iililll 
 
 the motion of a vessel) Tiens, Vivid ! see you her, as she glide 
 on de sea? She make approach! she is here — la viola I 
 (Vivid makes him sit — a pause.) Mariana make a shriek and 
 fell senseless. It is de count — it is her fader, and his soldats ! 
 Dey arrest me in de name of de grand due — dey tie my hand — 
 dey carry me back to Palerme, and trow me in de prison. I am 
 try — I am accuse of de seduction — I am condemn — you under- 
 stand, Vivid — condemn — to de galleys — to de galleys ! 
 
 Vivid. Gracious powers ! And how did you escape ? 
 
 Jacques. One night de door of my prison opens ; somebody 
 eeize my arm and conduct me through the dark — place in my j 
 hand a purse and a letter— cettre lettre, mon ami, this letter. 
 {takes letter out and reads.) " Go — fly avay ! I will be upon 
 your heel as soon as I am able." Eh bien, I was transport 
 avay. Here is de gap in my histoire— dere is tree year of 
 which I know noting. I remember, dey puts great deal vater 
 on my head — puis, one morning, dey tell me to go away from 
 de h6pital where I ave been. I vas alone in de vorld ; I 
 struggle on to give de few lei5sons, ven Heaven send you near 
 to me. Oh, my friend, the bon dieu was good, for vidout you 
 I should be dead, (he lays his head on Vivid's shoidder, who 
 dashes away a tear.) 
 
 Vivid, {after a short pause.) And you have never since 
 heard of your Mariana ? 
 
 Jacques. Jamais! Never! While I was jeune homme — a 
 young man — I expect her as a wife. Mais h present, I look to 
 see her as a dear friend, a sister ; for she is now old like me. 
 But I know it — she vfll come ! she vill come ! Attendez ! 
 
 (he goes up and umtches at window, and looks anxiously out. 
 
 Vivid. And this is what I am to expect — affection without 
 hope ! Mariana loved him ; that thought has been the balm to 
 heal the lacerated heart. I must cease to think of her — she can 
 never be mine. Absence is my only safeguard. The situation 
 of clerk to a vessel for South America has been offered to me. 
 It will leavi; the docks to-morrow ; what if I accept it? (turns 
 kii eyes towards Jacques.) And can I then abandon him? Oh, 
 no— never ! . ' : . 
 
 Eiiter AsTOVio^ K. u. door. 
 
 Again! 
 Antonio. This is the room. Does Monsieur Jacques live 
 
 here? 
 Jacques. C'est moi, monsieur — it is me. (coming forward.) 
 Antomo. You ! (crossing to centre, and looking at him with 
 
 interest.) Monsieur JacqueSf my mistress requests to speak with 
 
.K 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 18 
 
 You will soon 
 my resolve and 
 
 Jacques- Tome? 
 Antonio. She wishes to know if it will be convenient for 
 you to see her to-day. 
 
 Jacques. Oui, yes, certamemeut ; whenever she likes to 
 
 please. 
 
 An roNio. Then she will come to-day — sfie tt'ill come ! 
 Heaven bless you, sir ! (he hows and exits at r. ii. door. 
 
 Jacquks. Those worda— dat man ! I have eeeu him some- 
 where. 
 
 Vivid. lie is the servant of my incognita. Are you aware 
 that thisyoung lady haa been here once before to-day ? 
 
 Jacquks. Vraiment ! c'est bizarre! Very strange, or rader, 
 -very natural ; sha ave hear of my musique, and she come to 
 take de lesson. 
 
 Vivid. Possibly. 
 
 Jacques, (gaily.) In all de case, my dear boy, dis is not but 
 some good for me. Mon dieu ! vat a figuration I look ! You 
 must lend me a coat, dat little chesnut coat. 
 
 Vivid. Willingly ; I'U fetch it for you. 
 learn who she is. (aside.) StiU wiU I keep 
 banish myself for ever. Exit door l. h. 
 
 Jacques. Quel malheur ! vat misfortune ! dat de blanch- 
 isseuse — de washwoman — ave not brought home my cravat. It 
 is always so ; ven you not vant den dey come, and on de 
 graiules occasion dey stops avay. To be sure, I ave only two ; 
 80 ven one is dry de oder is wets. Never mind ! (goes about 
 :it(i(fe^ dusting chairs, ^c, with his handkerchief.) Dis visite ave 
 jroduce a singular effect upon me. Suppose she should be 
 riche, as Vivid say, I shall perhaps be able, par sa protection, 
 to produce my opera. Oh, quelle joie it vill be to see my operi 
 perform ! No, I will not never part with him ! 
 
 Enter Sequence, r. h. door. 
 
 Skque. I haven't been long, you see. Now, touching tKe 
 Qctrture I made to you this morning. 
 
 Jacques. Your overture ? it is my overture. 
 
 Seqi'E. I mean the proposal which you agreed to. I have 
 brought you the money, ana a receipt in full of all demands. 
 
 Jacques. Ma foi ! it is true ; a fine note, new all over, and 
 A receipt. 
 
 Si'.QiE Take them, my friend, they are yours ; and though 
 I have the reputation, you will be be a man of note. 
 
 Jacques. Non, grande merci I I shall not take them, parce 
 que, becose I ave change my mind. 
 
 Si:(iUK. What, you want more money, I suppose — Crescendo 
 in your demand ? 
 

 !V. i 
 
 :i 
 
 II !i 
 
 II;' ■ I 
 
 I ifii' 
 
 iiii ? 
 
 :»-,. 
 
 r 
 
 
 m\ 
 
 14 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 Jacques. Non, I won't want none — I vont let my opera go 
 avay at all. 
 
 Seque. Mr. Jacques, be careful — I am not a man to be 
 trifled with. Reiueinber, you owe me three quartar'a rent, and 
 it is in my power to turn you into the street. 
 
 Jacques. I know it. 
 
 Seque. To seize your goods and sell them under your nose. 
 
 Jacques. I know it. C'est vrai, it is true, you can do all 
 dis, but you cannot tear from me my opera from under n\y nose. 
 You may throw me aray out of your house — eh bien, I nuist 
 looks anoder. I shall not complain so long as remain mo my 
 oj)era and my piano. 
 
 Seque. I shall sell that with the rest of the rubbish. 
 
 Jacques. You will sell my piano ! Qu'avez vous dit la ? 
 What you have say ? sell my piano ! You do not know dat 
 since six year it has support me in all de misere de most affreuse 
 — when for day to day I ave noting to eat. Ah, dat astonish 
 you — you dat ave de superfluity, while de pauvre nmsician 
 often vant a morsel of bread. Dat astonish you ! In de midst 
 of dat vant, dat misere, and dat hungry, I have forgot all, all— 
 l)ecose of my piano — and you have de heart to sell it ? Take 
 my bed — sell him ; but leave to me — oh, leave to me my piano ! 
 
 Seque. Pooh, nonsense ! it shall go ! (going towards piano.) 
 
 Jacques. I am old and feeble, but Heaven will give power 
 to this aged arm ; but should that arm fail to me, it must dat 
 day kill me ; but I vill never lose my hold, (he rushes to the 
 piano in despair—sinks exhausted — presses his head ivith his 
 hands — looks round wildly.') Ah, where I am? in Palernie! 
 Hush! 
 
 Seque. In one of his paroxysms again. 
 
 Jacques, (the orchestra plays the air of the piece — he listens.) 
 It is a sheep dat glide upon de water. She is come at last — I 
 fly to see her — Mariana ! Mariana ! (he rushes ojf b. ii. door. 
 
 Enter Vivid, with a coat^ l. h. door. 
 
 Vivid. (7wt seeing Sequence.) Here, my friend, is the — I 
 beg pardon, I have brought poor Mr. Jacques — 
 
 Seque. Some money ? 
 
 Vivid. No, a coat which I promised to lend him. 
 
 (places it on a chair. 
 
 Seque. Very strange that you can afford to lend coats, and 
 y\nt pay ' me your rent. This day I have made up my mind, 
 cither to have my money, or you both go. 
 
 VxviD. Turn the old man out? Impossible ! You do but 
 V 3t ; such a procedure — 
 
 jSeque. I dare say you'll make a speech about humanity, and 
 
MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 15 
 
 then talk very poetically about pity. I dont pretend to under- 
 Btand it. A man can't understand everything. I am contented 
 to })C acquainted with the sound of music and money. 
 
 Vivin. Poor Jacques ! — without a home — left to perish ! — to 
 be civst upon the cold world — and feeble. How much is the old 
 man indebted to you ? 
 
 Skquk. Fifteen pounds. 
 
 Vivid, (aside.) Fifteen pounds ! and they offered to advance 
 me thirty : in accepting it I save my poor friend, for some 
 time at least, from want, (to Skquknce, haiujlitibj.) Mr, Se- 
 quence, you will not dispose of a single article. 
 
 Seque. And who, pray, will prevent me? 
 
 Vivid. // — before the evening you shall be paid to the ut- 
 termost farthing. 
 
 Seque. The devil ! and I shall lose the opera, (aside.) But 
 you have so often promised, I would advise you to keep your 
 word. 
 
 Vivid. Leave the room ! 
 
 Seque. Turned out of the orchestra ! Take care, sir, you 
 Iceep your time ! 
 
 Vivid. Begone! Exit Sequence, k. ii. door. 
 
 And now to perform a last duty to poor Jacques. It is an act 
 which will not only solace him, but will enable me to drive her 
 loved image from my mind. She will soon be here ; I dare not 
 Bee her more, or farewell to my resolution. 
 
 Nina, (without, r.) Remain without, Antonio. He will 
 doubtless soon return. 
 
 Vivid. Heavens ! she here — escape then is impossible. 
 
 (goes up.") 
 
 Enter Nina, r. h. d. 
 
 Nina, (looking anxiously round.) Everything in this wretched 
 apartment interests me. (sees Vivid.) His friend ! I am de- 
 lighted to find you alone, Mr. Vivid ; I am anxious to have 
 some conversation respecting your friend. Monsieur Jacques. 
 
 Vivid. Of Jacques ! 
 
 Nik A. A circumstance of importance has induced this visit. 
 Is it not to be feared that any unexpected ne\vs may be too 
 much for his reason ? 
 
 Vivid. The evident interest you take in my friend — -pardon 
 dear madam, my curiosity — but it is dictated a!one oy the 
 deepest sympathy witli the misery and povertv which he en- 
 dures ; — at hi ; age to be reduced to the most irightful priva- 
 tions — 
 
 Nina. Gracious heavens! is it possible? (agitated.) Isil 
 come to thia ? Antonio 1 Antonio I ..-,.;. . . 
 
16 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 !!:■ ■! 
 
 
 Enter Antonio, r. h. d. 
 
 (she whispers to Antonio, who exits^ r. h. d., hastily.) Be satis- 
 fied, sir; I have both the will and means of serving your 
 friend. 
 
 Vivid. It is kind, very kind, madam ; but / shall this day 
 have the means — Heaven has unexpectedly sent them. 
 
 Nina. Youp noble, your disinterested conduct does honour 
 to your nature. 
 
 Vivid. My conduct I (aside.) Now is the moment, or all is 
 lost. I will fly to the captain, secure my papers, and pay this 
 heartless landlord, {to Nina.) Pardon, madam, but an affair of 
 imiM)rtance obliges me thus rudely to leave you. (looks off.) 
 'Tis Jacques! I will leave you : farewell, madam, (a.s/</e.) for 
 ever. Exit, r. h. d. 
 
 Nina. I dread to see him. Heaven grant me fortitude for 
 the melancholy task. And should all effort to save him prove 
 unavailing, I will consign myself to the holy cahii of a convent's 
 walls, and forget for ever my mountain home. 
 
 SONG.— " Pa/ermo's Bell." 
 
 When last I heard Palermo's bell. 
 
 How deep and hallowed was its power I 
 How sweet each tone the tale did tell, 
 Of bridal joy and death's dark hour. 
 But forced to roam 
 From kindred home, 
 I Bigh'd a last fareivell, — 
 To sun-lit bower, 
 And golden flower. 
 And dear Palermo's bell ! 
 
 WHh listless eye that land is seen ; 
 
 For far off lands my bosom burn'd. 
 Yet sigh'd to leave that long lov'd seen©— 
 Still early memory fondly turn'd — 
 But visions bright 
 As the fire-fly's light, 
 Of hope and peace doth tell; 
 For o'er each vale, 
 And hill and dald, 
 Shall sound Palermo's bell i 
 
 (at the end of song Nina retires np, B. h» 
 
 Enter Jacques, r. h. d. 
 ^ Jacques, (not seeimj hr.) Again I come back oloiw. («ci» 
 
 i 
 
JiONSrEUK JACQUES. 
 
 W 
 
 coat.) Ah, ah, de coat of Vivid ! Dis lady vill soon come, (he 
 ts ahnut to take off his coat, when he. sees Nina.) Ah, nion dieu ! 
 la violit ! dere she am ! and I ave not ave time to— mille par- 
 dons, madam, to receive you in dis negligo of de morning. 
 
 Nina. It is I rather who should aiX)loJ5d.se for this intrusion. 
 
 Jacquks. Comment, madam I (aside.) What a interest she 
 are ! Give yourself the pain to sits down, (he hatuls Nina ct 
 chair vith a broken smt., hut instanthj chanf/es it,) Maintenant, 
 will you descend to instruct me of de motive of your visit? 
 
 \l Enter Antonio, n. h. n., with n tray covered, decanter^ glasses, 
 
 S)T., which he lays on the table. 
 
 Nina. The business which brought me here will oblige me to 
 remain with you a very long time. 
 
 Jacques. Mais — tant mienx — all de better, madam. Vat a 
 sweet eye. (aside.) 
 
 Nina. And fearful that, did I not come early, I might not 
 find you at home, I did not take breakfast. 
 
 Jacques. Oh, dat always bad — you should not — jamais, 
 never go vidout your breakftist, it is always my system. 
 
 Nina. I have therefore taken the liberty to desire my servant 
 to bring it here. I hope you will not only pardon me, but will 
 partake of it with me. 
 
 Jacques. Madame! 
 
 Nina. We can, during the time, talk upon the subject that 
 brought me here, (to Antonio, icho has arranged the table.) 
 Bring the table down. 
 
 Jacques. I shall obey you. (going to the table.') 
 
 Antonio. Pardon me, sir, that is my dnty. (brings the table 
 down.) 
 
 Jacques, (who has pulPd up one of his stockings^ and buckled 
 his breeches.) Mon dieu ! Madame, I am quite confuse, (aside.) 
 Vat a pity it is not to be better decorated. 
 
 Nina. Pray be seated. Leave us, my good Antonio. 
 
 Exit Antonio, r. h. d. 
 
 Jacques. It is only to obey you, madam, for I am already 
 taking something, and I am no great appetite, (aside.) What 
 a large libs, (he looks at the table with voraciousness. Nina 
 sits and eats a little^ to encotirage him — aside.) If dat poor 
 Vivid was here, he vould also ave a breakfast ; but he is always 
 out of de vay ven anyting extraordinaire happen, (^e eats 
 ravenously. Nina Jilbf his glass with vxine.) You are too good 
 madame. (aside.) Vine ! vat it is a long time dat I ave it not 
 taste ! (drinks.) Dis to very good cotelett* ! a capital shop ! 
 very handsome vine ! I assure you, madame, dat I do not ave 
 riiie upon my table alvays — tings are not in a flourish wid me. 
 
18 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 Nina. And have you not tried to better your circumstances? 
 
 Jacques. Very often — several times. Ven I ave present 
 myself to ave do pupils, dey say — " vous etes trop vieux "— 
 *' you are too old.' Alors, den, I go to de maison of de poor 
 old peoples — what you call de working house — and dey mxy — 
 " vous etes trop jeune " — " you are too young " — so I find dat 
 I am of an ago most enibarra8.sing. What a magnifique pate — 
 what a capital lark ! Now, madame, am I able to know vat ave 
 procure to me de honneiur of your visite ? 
 
 Nina, (aside) Heavens! IIow to break it to him! You 
 must know that I am an entire stranger here — 'tis now two 
 months since I quitted Italy. 
 
 Jacques, (moving suddenly.) Italy ! You came from 
 Sicily? 
 
 Nina. A passion for music predominated from my earliest 
 youth ; I employ'd the most distinguished ma.sters, and was 
 making rapid progress, when circumstances obliged me to 
 abandon my studies and come to England. This morning, 
 chance conducted me here ; some pieces of MUsic which I 
 happened to see on your piano gave me the highest opinion of 
 your genius. 
 
 Jacques. Ah, mfldame, your compliments flattre me. 
 
 Nina. I wouH become your imjiil. (rising.) 
 
 Jacques. It shall give me pleasure to teach to you as well 
 my poor abilitie shall permit. 1 do not know why, but I cannot 
 help to take an interest in you, Dites moi, ma chere madame ! 
 vidout doubt you ave already compose several tings ? 
 
 Nina. As yet I have not attempted anything beyond the 
 merest trifles ; yet there is one I should like you to hear, but 
 that I fear to take up your time. 
 
 Jacques. Comment done ! it will be to me a great happi- 
 ness. I only regret dat my piano is such a poor box. 
 
 Nina, (crossiiig.) I tremble ! The subject of the romance is 
 founded upon fact—it really happend. 'J'he scene is Sicily. 
 
 Jacqes. (agitated.) En Sicile ! (he regains his composurey 
 and draws chair close to the piano.) 
 
 Nina. Listen ! (she uatches all his emotions.) 
 
 lis 
 
 ROMANCE.—NiNA. 
 
 A noble's daughter loved to madness 
 A stranger youth of low degree ; 
 
 They wed — (but 'tis a tale of Siidneas 
 Told throughout all Sicily.^ 
 
 Jacquks. (with surprise.) Told throughout all Sicily ? 
 
mces? 
 
 |)re8eut 
 
 IX "— 
 
 poor 
 
 s{iy — 
 
 M dat 
 [)ate — 
 fat ave 
 
 from 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 Nina* The wre pursues tlu- tniiint uuvidcn, 
 
 And soon, alas ! his stop tliey hear ; 
 The youth is csist, with irons hwlen, 
 Within Palermo's dungi-ons drear. 
 
 Jacques, (starting.) Within Palermo's dungeons drear. 
 
 "SisA. Still cheer thee youth 
 
 She watches thee I 
 Believe her truth, 
 She'll set thtt free. 
 
 19 
 
 Jacques, (looking Jixedly upon 
 romance ? 
 Nina. Listen to the second verse. 
 
 Nina.) Vat means dis 
 
 Dread surrounds him, gloom is o'er him, 
 
 Life to him no more is dear ; 
 When soon a mantled form before him, 
 
 Stands within his dungeon drear. 
 
 Jacques, (his agitation has gradually increased.) She stand 
 witliin liis dungeon drear? 
 
 Nina. " Fly ! thy path is free from danger," 
 Cries the maid, nor cries in vain ; 
 " This purse — this letter — take, in stranger 
 Climes we soon shall meet again ! " 
 
 Jacques. We soon shall meet again ? (Nina, as 1/ to calm 
 lis agitatiori^ turns the song gaily.) 
 
 Nina. Now cheer thee youth, 
 
 She watches thee-; 
 Believe her truth. 
 She seta thee free ! 
 
 Jacques, (seizing the arm of Nina, draios from his hosom 
 the letter.) Dis letter — look! see! it is here, here! Cette 
 histoire — dis histoire — it is mine! — de prisonier is me — de 
 dau<ihter of de noble is Mariana ! You know her ? Speak ! 
 speak! it is Mariana who ave send you to me, n'est ce pas? 
 Slie vill come herself? Oh, say me — say me, dat she villcome! 
 She has me promise. Oh, speak ! You reply not — you turn 
 av.ay your eye ! one word — one single word? Ven I shall see 
 her again ? 
 
 Nina, (impressively.) Never! never! 
 
 Jacques. Nevair ! Oh, mon dieu ! Nevair ! Den she is — tell 
 me not— (puts his hand b^ore her mouth.) Dead I Mort ! (his 
 
f ;! 
 
 i 
 
 
 30 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 head stinks on hln hosow — his frcnzif returns.) Hark ! do iiQtyuu 
 hear de sound of de bellV Stand avay ! do not make ao much 
 noise ; how can she die if you talk V (nc looks upsilcntli/^ as If in 
 prayer.) 
 
 Nina. Nay, Ix) cahn ; hear uie, I intreat. 
 
 jActiiTKS. Mariana comes to me no more. Vat I have to do 
 here now, but to die ? (he weeps^ his hands clasping his/ace.) 
 
 Nina. His reason returns. 
 
 Jacc^ues. Dead ! vidout to have seek to see me only once. 
 
 (he tears the letter^ which he throws doini. 
 
 Nina. A-Ccuse her not ; she would have forsaken fortune, 
 rank, parents, country ; but after your flight she waa closely 
 guarded, and her life melted away in tears. 
 
 Jacques, (picks up the pieces of the letter and carefully puts 
 theui into his hosom.) Pardon to her memory. Pauvre Mariana ! 
 she vas den very unhappy. 
 
 Nina. Oh, yes — and loved you. She at length succeeded in \ 
 obtaining the means of flight ; all obstacles were removed— 
 
 Jacques. And what prevent her? — 
 
 Nina. She died giving birth to a daughter. 
 
 Jacques. Grana dieu ! and dis daugnter — where, where is 
 she ? where is my daughter, my cliild ? 
 
 Nina. My father ! (she falls on her knees before Jacques.) 
 
 Jacques. C'estoi ! Oh, yes, my heart tell me — ma fille! my 
 child ! Ma chere enfant ! (he presses her in his arms.) Ah, if you 
 know how you look like her. Ah, now I not more wish to die. 
 
 Nina. Calm yourself, my father. 
 
 Jacques, (raising her up.) My child — my daughter — mine. 
 Ah, how she is tall — how she is beautiful ! Oh, if dis shall be 
 an illusion. Ma pauvre tete is so weak. I am not derange — 
 not mad, am I ? 
 
 Nina. No, no, dear father ! it is indeed your child, who will 
 never again leave you — who will soothe your grief into happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Jacques. Oui, yes ! (slowly.) We will yet speak of her ! 
 
 Nina. And now, away with want, away with poverty ! The 
 Count is no more 1 / am rich — you are rich, ray father. 
 
 Jacques. Kiche ! can it be ? Eh hien, tant mieux ! not for 
 me, but for him who has support and suffer wid me — my good 
 Vivid ! Oh, he is a good boy ! You do not know what a 
 generosite — what a fine heart he has ; no son could not have 
 do no more for me ! Oh, how he will be astonishment. 
 
 Enter Sequence, with a letter., r. h. door. 
 Seqve. My dear Mr Jacques, I have come to tell you — 
 
MONSIEUn JACQUES. 
 
 21 
 
 .Ta(<M''''*- 1^^^ ^ u\mt go iiwiiy from your lodgement. Oh, 
 very veil, I shuU leave your garret ro(jin. 
 
 Skciik. Oil the contrary, I've coiiio to say that you may 
 jstny Jis long jus you please. I'm paid I 
 
 .jAciiiKs. You are paid y (A/cA-.v a/ Nina.) , 
 
 SKfii'K. This letter will exidain. (^reads.) " Enelo^ed is tlio 
 aiii'tunt my <lear friend Mr. Jaecpies stands indebted to you ; 
 I will call and pay your demand on myself iu an ho'ir 1 sjiil 
 for South America to-morrow, a!id — " 
 
 Knter Vivid, k. h. door. 
 
 jAcgUKS. (rnnniiKj to and pressing his hand.) Ah, mon ami ! 
 let me shake you. 
 
 Vivid. (asiilt\) She still here I 
 
 jAC(ii'Ks, How ave you got all dat money? Mais ce n'ost 
 rien ; tanks to dis angel, I ave no vant of noting! I )is beautiful 
 lady — dis incognita, dat you speak to me about — she is nia 
 fille — my daughtor — my cliild! 
 
 Vivid, (asida.) Ilisdanghter! 
 
 SK(iUK. (k.) Ilis daughter ! There goes his head again ! 
 
 Nina, (takiucj thu hand of Hixcq^xjv.i^.) lie speaks the truth 1 
 I am his daughter. 
 
 Skqik. Is it possible ? 
 
 jAi.'QUKS. Yes, it is possible, Mr Lodging-house, (jio Vivid.) 
 Now we go all three to be haj)py. 
 
 Vivid. Alas, it is now too late. 
 
 jACViiKs. Comment! Too late ! It never shall be too late I 
 And could you tink to leave me, when you know that Mr. 
 Sequence was go to turn me out of his house ? 
 
 Skquk. Bless you, I respect genius too much — 1 am too fond 
 of music. 
 
 J.\c(iUp:.s. Oui ! — yes, so fond of de musique, that you vill 
 take away my piano? (to Vivid.) And you have sacrifio 
 c'veryting for me. 
 
 Vivid. I see you rich and happy — I have now no tie to bind 
 nie here. 
 
 Jacquks. But it is now my turn to jnake you happy. Vat, 
 you ave no tie to bind you here ? Ven I shall be older, who 
 shall support me, eh ? — has she de strength — dat dear child 
 dere ? Vid dis arm {shewing his left.) I can lean on her ; mais, 
 but dis toder arm ? Ah, tu n'as plus rien a faire ici ? you ave 
 no more tie to bind you here ? 
 
 Nina. Mr. Vivid, you must not leave us — you will not go ? 
 
 Vivid, {taking Jacquks' right arm.) Dearest lady, if you 
 command — 
 
 Jacque.s. Ah, voyez vous <ja ! how he is obedient to her ! I 
 remember — m.iis, motus — I shall say noting now — but by- 
 
22 
 
 MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 aiul-byc, pvcscnlly, T shall speak vid both of you. (t9 
 SKCiiKNCE.) Monsieur Setiiicnce, you perceive I am not dispose 
 to sell my opera, becosefor you see I am riche! 
 
 Si;iiUK. I am (U'liglited at your prosperity ; I am sure I hope 
 your opura will .succeed, {askle.) I'll go the first night and 
 hiss it. 
 
 .Jacqiks. Yes T an; riche. (Jook'uKj at Nina and Vivid, 
 fheu comes forirard.) To niglit, in the midst of my sorrow, I 
 touylit I hear from every side voices cry, "Brava! — " trcs 
 bieii I "' >Iais, malheureusement ! my head ave been some time 
 <U'rangc', an 1 jjcrhaps I ave only suppose dese tings. Am I 
 mad? Did 1 dream dat you was please, and satisfy? Oh, 
 assure me dat it vas not the ravings of— 
 
 POOR MONSIEUR JACQUES. 
 
 Sequence. 
 
 Jacques. 
 
 Nina, 
 
 Vivid. 
 
 L. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIKECTIONS. 
 B. H. C. C. L. 0. &• 
 
 Right Centre. Centre. Left Centre. Left 
 
 rACINO THK AUDIENCE. 
 
 Right 
 
 |H '1 ' 
 
I hope 
 It and 
 
 Vivw, 
 •o\v, I 
 
 -'' tres 
 time 
 Alii I 
 
 Oh, 
 
 THE DOWAGER 
 
 A COMEDY 
 
 IN ONE ACT 
 
 BY 
 
 CHAKLES MATHEWS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 little Toddlekins : My Wife' s Mother ; Patter v. Clatter: 
 lie loould be an Actor ; The Ringdoves; Ilumpbac/c'd 
 Lover; A Match .fo*- m Kiny t Two in the Morninff i 
 Truths ^'e if* 
 
 «««*^i«^«v<«^»y^ 
 
 LONI.'.-: 
 
 5>\MUEL FllENUn, 
 
 riTUMSIIEIt, 
 
 69, STRAND. 
 
 New Vo;k : 
 SAMUEL FRENCH &, SOX» 
 
 TUPLISHERS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET. 
 
 :m.--.^. 
 
THE DOWAGER. 
 
 Firi't Fafornud at il<£ Thtalre Royal lla'/markd, Bet. 8, 1848. 
 
 LORD ALl'KKD LYNDSAY . . Mr. Charles Matbi 
 
 SIR FRKDKRICK CIIASEMORE Mr. Holl. 
 
 EDGAR BKAUCIIAMP .... Mr. Brixdal. 
 
 SERVANT Mr. Ennis. 
 
 Tin^ DOWAGER COUNTESS OF 
 
 TRESILIAN Madame Yestris. 
 
 LADY liLOOMER Miss Charles. 
 
 MARGARET Miss C. Connor. 
 
 SCENE. — Lady Bloomer's Country House. 
 
 PERIOD.— About 1790. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 Lord Alfred. — Riding dress of the period, stone-coloured 
 coat, braided, with silver, drab great coat, with cape, 
 amber satin waistcoat, leather breeches, top boots, lace 
 cravat, high brown beaver hat and buckle ; powder. 
 
 Sir Frederick. — Same style of riding dress, green coat; 
 powder. 
 
 Edgar. — "Walking dress of the same period, violet and gold 
 breeches, white stockings, btickles : powder : cocked hat 
 and stick. 
 
 Dowager. — Silk travelling dress of the period, open robe, 
 demi-train, petticoat of the same material, lace handker- 
 chief on the neck, small cloak, velvet hat and feathers; 
 no powder. 
 
 "'/ADY Bloomer. — Striped silk dress of the same make; 
 •owder. 
 
 /m-lRGARET. — White muslin, with one deep flounoe, broad 
 dioiu'od sash ; powder. 
 
348. 
 
 js Maxbi 
 
 iL. 
 
 THE DOWAGER. 
 
 1 1 
 
 ESTRIS. 
 
 LES. 
 NX OR. 
 
 coloiued 
 th cjij)e, 
 ots, lace 
 ler. 
 'en coat; 
 
 and ii^old 
 ckod hat 
 
 len robe, 
 landker- 
 bathers ; 
 
 ! make; 
 
 s, broad 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 ^ Drnwing-Room, entircli/ open at the hack, leading to a 
 garden. An awning protects the windows from tht nun. 
 Doors 11. and l. 
 
 Lady Bloomek, e., and Margaret Beauchamt, l., 
 
 discovered seated. 
 
 Lady B. Well, my dear Margaret, are we to pass the 
 whole morning without exchanging a word ? What makes 
 you so silent ? 
 
 Marg. I was thinking of the agreeable party assembled 
 here during the past week, and regretting the sudden 
 termination of our festivities. 
 
 Lady B. It certainly was very provoking ; just as our 
 private theatricals, too, were about to begin ; but it could 
 not be avoided. The letter which amiounced the probable 
 arrival here, of my old amit, the Dowager, was a death- 
 blow to our merriment. 
 
 Marg. Is she, then, such a kill-joy ? 
 
 Lady B. A formal frump ; full, no doubt, of ridiculous 
 provincial prejudices. She was many years married to my 
 xmcle, Lord Tresiliau, a grave old Cornish nobleman, and 
 vegetated at the Land's End, under the shadow of his 
 dignity, until his death, two years ago, when business 
 took her to Germany. 
 
 Marg. Then where did you make her acquaintance ? 
 
 Lady B. My love, I havo never seen her; but she il 
 very rich, has no children, and, if I do but please her — 
 
 Maug. I understand. 
 
11 :;i 
 
 '! ! 
 
 ii] 
 
 I 
 
 4 THE PO WAGER. 
 
 Lady B. At her aire, and with her austere habits, slit 
 would look uj)oii oui- amusemeutK as frivolous, and I aiB 
 anxious to jcciivc her with all due rospect and etiquette. 
 
 Makg. Y(ni are quite right. Uitj/iiny.) It is a sad 
 Mccessily. 
 
 Lady 1j. I have wanu^d Sir Frederick Chascmore to be 
 on his good behaviour. Have you cautioned your brother 
 Kdgar ? 
 
 Makg. I have; but there's little danger of poor 
 Edgar's transgressing. lie is too timid and quiet, too 
 sentimentally devoted to you, to bestow a thought upon 
 ajiy one else. 
 
 Lady B. (rises.) Nonsense, Margaret! Your brother 
 h;)s now been neai'ly three months domesticated here, and, 
 in all that time has never uttered a word in the shape of a 
 declaration, nor have I seen anything in his manner, even, 
 to make nie believe that he loves me. 
 
 Maeg. That is because he has not courage t& 
 declare himself ; he is too sensitive ; a refusal would kill 
 him. 
 
 Lady B. How ridiculous ! I like a bold lover-^ 
 ardent and enterprising, impetuous, pressing, impatient- 
 one who will not be said nay to ; like your gallant, for 
 instance, Sir Frederick Chascmore. 
 
 Makg. Oh, don't talk of him ! He is too confident 
 of success to plea.se me, I like a respectful lover, full of 
 the poetry of gentle affection — sighing, nuising, doubting, 
 hoping, fearing — one who — In short, like your admirer, 
 my poor brother Edgar, 
 
 Lady B. Come, come, Margaret; now would you 
 pretend to deny that Sir Frederick Chascmore — 
 
 Maro. And would you, now, louisa, pretend to deny 
 that my brother Edgar — 
 
 Lady B. There, that will do. We won't attempt a 
 further examination of our silly hearts ; we are neither of 
 ufj likely to confess the truth, so let us turn to another 
 Buyect. 
 
 Marg. Agreed! And just in time, for here comes my 
 brother. 
 
 liADY B. Now shaU we be overpowered with iha 
 rattling volubility of his exuberant spirits. 
 
THK DOWASBm. 
 
 *l 
 
 Enter Edgar, slotvly, from the gard^nx^ c. l. 
 
 Edoab. Do I intrude ? 
 
 Maro. No, no, of course not; how can you be so 
 foolish, brother ? 
 
 Edgar. My dear Mars^ret, if you were alone, I should 
 not hesitate to join you, but — 
 
 Lady B. " But the sight of Lady Bloomer so t'riij;ilitens 
 me, that — " Thank you, Edgar, for your pretty oom- 
 plimont. 
 
 Kdoar. Now, pray don't misinterpret — How im- 
 lucky 1 am ! The fact is, I am foolishly bashful upon 
 certain points. I know it is absurd, but I — iasidr.) I 
 feel I am blushing up to the eyes at this very moment. 
 
 Lady B. You should take a lesson from your friend, 
 Sir Federick. 
 
 Marg. Oh, no! Pray don't give my brother bad 
 advice. 
 
 Edgar. I have watched him with Qwvy. In flood, 
 when I am alone, I feel resolute in my detorniinntion to 
 imitate him. I sally forth, a lion ; my boldness lasts me 
 to the very door — nay, I fearlessly turn the look, liias^- 
 nanimously enter the room, behold you, and — my courage 
 is nipped like a bud. 
 
 Marg. Poor Edgar ! 
 
 Edgar. I think I am a little less timid than I wi^s, 
 for I now and then catch myself positively f^azing at you. 
 
 Lady B. Is — it — possible ! 
 
 Edgar. Oh, yes. I have even remarked the colour of 
 your eyes. 
 
 Lady B. Ha ! ha ! ha ! You really are making won- 
 derful progess. 
 
 Edgar. There — you laugh. I've done. 
 
 Lady B. I regret that my gaiety shoidd so ruffle you. 
 I will leave you to compose yourself. T must prepare for 
 our expected visitor. Apropos, our neighbour, Lord Alfred 
 Lindsay, may ride over here in the course of the Tuorning; 
 we must contrive to givo him a hint, also, to restrain his 
 •ccustomed mirth. Adieu, Edgar, we shall s(7on meet 
 
THE DOTf AGBB. 
 
 again. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — but I beg pardon ; I will go and 
 laugh in the next room. \_Exii, door b. 2 b. 
 
 Edgar. Now, I'll just ask you, Miu-garet — 
 
 Mabg. All your own fault. I don't pity you in tha 
 least. 
 
 Fred, (without.) Edgar! Edgar! Where are you. 
 
 Marg. Here comes Frederick ! , 
 
 Enter Sir Frederick, /ram garden ; comes down c. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Aha ! the fair Margaret here ! 
 
 An unexpected 
 
 Fred. 
 pleasuj3 ! 
 
 Marg. ^ou have been playing truant, this morning. 
 Fred. Yes, I took horse early, and have had a delightful 
 gallop round the neighbouring villages ; breakfasted at a 
 picturesque farn-house, on brown bread, fresh butter, and 
 new-laid o^; _ ^ '^I'Jted with the jolly farmer, flirted with 
 his buxom wif^ ".'sfjed his pretty daughter, and cantered 
 home again. 
 
 Mat^g. Upon my v, or'^, sit', a very charming confession I 
 Frep. Ym, ^et how >>.«.'»g:crous it is to let me run alone, 
 and yet you won t t:;ke il;^ "uto Icading-striugs. Ah ! 
 you smile. 
 
 Makg. {smiles.) Do not mistake the smile extorted by 
 your absurdity, for approbation of yom- levity. 
 
 Fred. I mistake nothing ; you smile, and that is all I 
 ask. If I could but once lualce you lauyhy I should 
 instantly order the wedding gloves and bouquets. 
 Maug. Your courtship is a gay one, at all events. 
 
 Our marriage will be gayer still, I promise you. 
 Our marriage ! I laugh at the idea ! 
 You do ? Then it pleases you, and I triumph. 
 Nonsense ! There really is no talking with you. 
 I know it. You nuiy as well say '• yes," at once. 
 But I will say '' no." 
 
 Do — and I will prove that you mean " yes." 
 Marg. Then I will say nothing. 
 Fred. That's right ; silence gives consent. 
 Edgar, {aside.) Only hear them ! oidy heai* them ! 
 Fred. I am a happy man ! 
 Edgar. You are. Your intrepidity is matclilesa. 
 
 Fred. 
 
 Marg. 
 
 Fred. 
 
 Marg. 
 
 Fred. 
 
 Marg. 
 
 Fred. 
 
» TTTB DOWAGER. * 7 
 
 IHiat would I not give for half your hardihood with 
 Ijady Bloomer. 
 
 Fred. What ! havn't you popped the question yet? 
 
 Edgar. Popped the question! — how easy it sounds. 
 No, I can't summon up courage. 
 
 Fred. Well, some people are much too dilatory. Are 
 they not, Margaret ^ 
 
 Marg. They are; while others are much too pre- 
 cipitate. 
 
 Edgar. There — ^you hear what my sister says. 
 
 Fred. Pshaw! man, I am sure Margaret herself will 
 own that such timidity as yours is absurd. 
 
 Marg. Undoubtedly, Marfijaret will as freely own that 
 her brother is far too fearful of failure, as that Sir Frederick 
 Chasemore is far too confident of success. [_Exit r. 2 x. 
 
 Edgar. What say you to that ? 
 
 Fred. Say ! — that she loves me. 
 
 Edgar. Well, 1 believe she does ; but blames your 
 confidence. 
 
 Fred. Nonsense, she likes it. 
 
 Edgar. Eh ? Egad, I verily believe she does. 
 
 Fred. They all do. 
 
 EociAR. I'm afraid you're right. What will become 
 of me ? 
 
 Fred. Follow in my steps. 
 
 Edgar. I can't. Besides, the very thing you court most, 
 I most di'cad — a laugh. If she wouldn't laugh, I think I 
 could make her a declaration. 
 
 Fred. Well, listen to me, and I'll let you into a cecret 
 by which we shall get the laugh on our side. 
 
 Edgar. What is it? 
 
 Fred. Lady Bloomer has announced her expectation of 
 a visit from her aunt. 
 
 Edgar. Well? ^ 
 
 Fred. Her mmt, 1 say, the downier — hem ! 
 
 Edgar. Her aunt — I heiu* you. 
 
 Fred. And you believe her ? 
 Edgar. Why shouldn't I ? 
 
 Fred. \\Tiat ! are you so blind as not to perceive tht4 
 this is only a manceuvre of hers, to put an end to ont 
 festivities ? 
 
 ».JIj;;^,«ii.* 
 
t TRS DOWASIB. 
 
 Edoab. Why so ? the theatricals were of her own pro- 
 posing 
 
 Frkd. I know it; but — ^now, I don't wisk to alarm 
 you — but since the arrival of a certain agreeable neigh- 
 Dour of hers — 
 
 Edgar. You don't allude to Lord Alfred Lindsay? 
 
 Fred. I do. 
 
 Edgae. Mercy on me ! I have sometimes myself 
 fancied — 
 
 Fred. It is clear to me that, in order to pique you to a 
 declaration, she affects a greater interest towarfls himthau 
 rile really feels. 
 
 Edgar. What shall I do ? 
 
 Fred. Hear my secret. In order to clear the course 
 of troublesome spectators, she has invented an old aunt — 
 a starched, formal frump — and conjured her here, to 
 frighten us out of our mirth. Now, unfortunr^tcly for Ikt 
 plot, I happen to know that her real aunt, the Dowager 
 Countess of Trosilian, is not an old woman at all ; for 
 tliough nearly fourteen or fifteen years the wife of a 
 twaddling old peer, and buried alive all that time in one of 
 his Cornish mines, she was only sixteen when he married 
 her, and consequently must still be under thirty. 
 
 Edgar. Indeed ! Well, go on. 
 
 Fred. This, then at once betrays her deceit, and has 
 suggested my counterplot. She wanted to scare us with 
 an iinayinary aunt, I am going to give her a real one. 
 
 Edgar. An aunt I 
 
 Fred. Yes. Last night I despatched my man, Robert, 
 to London to complete my arrangements, and presently 
 you will see the old fashioned coach, the four long-tailed 
 gi'eys, and the gorgeous liA'cries of the dowagor countess 
 come rumbling up the avenue. 
 
 Edgar. Impossible ! Why surely you would not think 
 of— 
 
 Fred. AVouldn't ! I have. I expect them every 
 moment. 
 
 Edgar. But what object have you in view ? 
 
 Fred. First of all, a hoax — that alone would be enough 
 —but I have another. The aunt that I have sent for is 
 gay and lively, and will act any part that may assist us in 
 
 I 
 
1 
 
 THE I>OWAOKTl. f 
 
 eur joke. Suppose wc both affect to fall in lore with 
 hor, and so rouse the jealousy of our cruel i'air ones. 
 Wluitsayyou? 
 
 Kdgak. a capital idea ! But if I cannot nvike L)ve ia 
 earnest, I'm afraid I shall never be able to do so in jest. 
 
 l<'uED. Never fear, I will assist you; and when Lord 
 Allied arrives, I'll get him to give you a hint or two. 
 
 Edgar. What, my rival himself? He won't do that 
 But who is this pretended amit ? 
 
 1''kkd. Hush I — here come the ladies — not a word I I 
 must run to be ready to meet Robert when he conies, and 
 <>-ive him fresh instructions. Now I'm in my clement — 
 we'll have our private theatricals in spite of them all. 
 
 [_li!xit into (jar den, l. 
 
 IIdgar. What a madcap ! 
 
 Enter Lady Bloomek and Margaret, ii. n. d. 
 
 Lady B. A very pretty discovery, ti*uly ! 
 
 M.vRG. Oh, iiere's my brother ; where' s Sii' Frederick ? 
 
 Edgar. He was here this moment. 
 
 Lady B. Gone, I suppose, to pay his respects to the 
 dowager. 
 
 Edgar. Wliat ! is she arrived already ? 
 
 Lady B. Oh, Edgar, would you, then, have us be- 
 lieve you ignorant of her movements ? 
 
 Edgar. How should I be otherwise? 
 
 Marg. True — how should he be otherwise, {aside to 
 L\])Y B.) Let us conceal om- discovery of their plans, 
 aiul so turn the tables upon them. 
 
 LiDY B. A capital thought. 
 
 Eogar. Hiuk! I hear a horse — an out-rider jjcrhaps. 
 {looks out at arch to l. h.) No ; Lord Alfred Lindsay, at 
 lull speed, as usual ; off his horse, and up the steps at 
 stnde. What a flash of lightning it is. 
 
 Lord A. {without.) Take care of the filly, throw a cloth 
 over her, she's very warm. Ah ! Frederick, where are 
 ladies ? 
 
 Fred, {without.) You'll find them in the drawing-room; 
 111 join you there immediately. 
 
 LuuD A. Don't dlstui'b yourself; I kii0'.\- the way. 
 
1« 
 
 THE DO-W.VOTTR. 
 
 Mil 
 
 
 i'i 
 
 r: . ii'! 
 
 i ! , ' 
 
 Entnr Lonn ALFn^D, from garden^ t. 
 
 Lor.D A. Behold thcin here ! Ladies, your most 
 obedient ! Ed^ar. yours ! I've had a delightful ride — a 
 iort of morninj; I like — ^;rey and soft, no sun, no wind, 
 and tlie roads moist and pleasant, 
 
 L.VDY B. You have changed your opinion sii\ce wc 
 saw you last ; for you told us then that you likc>d a brilliant 
 Bun, a bracing wind, and the roads as hard as iron. 
 
 Lord A. And so I do ; I like both. 
 
 Marg. Nay,, I have heard Lord Alfred affirm that he 
 liked nothing so well as riding in a pelting storm, and 
 feeling the refreshing rain fall on him like a shower balh. 
 
 Lord A. And so I do. I like them all. I like every- 
 thing. 
 
 Lady B. A happy temperament. 
 
 Lord A. The world is new to mc, and I enjoy it. 
 Confined in a dreary old castle, under the paterntd Aving, I 
 knew nothing, till one day my father opened my cage — out 
 I flew, like an arrow from a bow, and never stopped till I 
 reached London. 
 
 L.VDY B. And were you pleased there? 
 
 Lord A. Pleased! I was transported, transfixed! I 
 knew not which way to turn me, I was speechless with 
 admiration. 
 
 Edgar, {aside.) I've been so many a time. 
 
 Lord A. Since then my life has been a round of delight; 
 everything is new to me and everything enchanting ! 
 
 Edg.vr. [aside.) Only hear him run on ! 
 
 Lord A. Let me be where I will, I've only to look 
 around me, and — Now here's a delightful abode ! Wood 
 and water — park and pleasure-grounds. 
 
 Lady B. Oh, the monastery you mean. 
 
 Lord A. How happy you nmst be in this sweet place. 
 At least, I never come here but / am. 
 
 Marg, I fear we cannot interj)ret that remark into tk 
 compliment, as you seem to be happy everywhere. 
 
 Lord A, Quite true— So I am. 
 
 Lady B. A most enviable state, indeed. 
 
 Marg. A.s well as a very rare one. 
 
w 
 
 
 
 THE DOWAOEB. 
 
 11 
 
 Edoar. (aside.) I wish I dared venture a rcraorlc. 
 
 Loud A. llare ! IIow cjin it be rare ? People have 
 ^,y^^^ — send them to London. The mere sight of tlie 
 d'asliinj]; carriages, the brilliant equipages, whisking IVoui 
 place to place, is gaiety ready-made in itself ; and then 
 the throngs of merry folks gadding to and fro, the l)ustlo, 
 the women — oh, the women above all ! It's a paradise I 
 
 M.Mio. Lord Alfred seems to be an admirer of ouv si'x. 
 
 Loud a. An admirer? An adorer! Fancy me in 
 London; my heart was drilled through and tlir()uu;h, 
 lik" a sieve. MjTiads of bright eyes sm-roundi'ig 
 „n. — thousands of women flitting before me, and .so 
 pretty— 
 
 Edc.au. Some of them. 
 
 Loud A. Some ! They were all pretty — all beautiful. 
 
 Edgab. Oh, all. 
 
 Lord A. All ! I say all ! Young and old ! 
 
 Edgar, {aside.) Well done ! 
 
 Lady B. Your admiration, I fear, is somewhat indis- 
 criminate. 
 
 Lord A. My weak point, I confess. The very sight of a 
 petticoat is enough — away goes my heart. 
 
 Lady B. Indeed! Come, Margaret, I think, under 
 those circumstances, we had better make our escape. 
 
 Lord A. Too late — it's gone already. 
 
 Lady B. Since when ? 
 
 Lord A. Since the moment I beheld i/ou. 
 
 Edgar, (aside.) A pleasant confession. 
 
 Lady B. [coqtio.ttinj.) How often have you said the 
 same thing to others ? 
 
 Lord A. Thousands of times ! And shall again, I hope. 
 
 Edgar, {aside.) Good! 
 
 Lady B. {piqued.) Upon my word, a dangerous cha- 
 racter. You seem to glory in your perfidy. 
 
 Lord A. Perfidy ! Not at all. I love the sex, but I 
 respect it. 
 
 Lady B. That is to say, if a woman really pleased 
 
 TOU — 
 
 Lord A. I'd marry her. 
 Edgar, {aside.) Pleasant. 
 La:.^! B Marrv her? 
 
12 
 
 THE T)OWAA.Fn. 
 
 t :i 
 
 M 
 
 LoET) A. To be sure. I'd marry thpm nil. I shonlfl 
 like to bo u Turk. To think that tlicre really are Turks, 
 ■with as many wives as they please ! I'd marry a wii'o 
 a-d;iy. 
 
 EixjAR. Good ; now, he'd like to be a Turk ! 
 
 Loll I) A. I should like to be everything. 
 
 Lady H. Your sentiments have, at least, novelty to 
 rceuHuiieud tluun. 
 
 KofiAU. {(fsiiia.) I must try and say somcthin<^. 
 
 M\R(;. Lord Alfred may well be hajjpy, since he pos- 
 sesses that whieh half the world might envy him, contLiil. 
 
 Loiii) A. Envy me ! Are there really disconlc iitij 
 people on this beautiful earth? Then there's only one 
 punishment I know for them. Send them to play chess, 
 m my father's old cnstlo in Scotland. 
 
 J^DGAa. Scotland! Scotland I Stay — does ho live m 
 Scotland? That reminds me of — 
 
 Lady B. What, Edgar? Come, let us hear ? 
 
 LoKD A. }^y'^^^^'^"^"- 
 
 EoGAii. {aside.) They're bantering. Eh? — hear — 
 what? 
 
 Lady B. What is it it reminds you of? 
 
 l'h)GAR. Did I say — I — dear me — I quite forget now 
 what it reminded me of. 
 
 Lord A. lla! hal ha! Well said, Edgar — an inte- 
 resting souvenir indeed! {all laugh.) 
 
 Edgak. {aside.) Good — a laugh! I've made mj'self 
 absurd, and now I'll go. 
 
 Lady. B. What! leaving iu3 Edgar? Well, no 
 ceremony. 
 
 LoKD A. That's right. No ceremony — I hati^ it! 
 Tliere are only two things in the world that I detest — cere- 
 mony and chess. 
 
 Edgar. And I, only one — a laucjli ! I have some letters 
 to write, and — not liaving much time to — I — {aside ) I'm 
 fiure I'm as red in the face as a turkey cock. 
 
 ^Exit iu'n gnrd'U,, L. 
 
 Lord A. What's the matter with your brother, ^Miss 
 Boauohamp? He seems absent and flurried (Mau(j.vui:t 
 npeaks ajjari with Lady B.) Miss Beauc- amp I 
 
THE DOWAGF"R. 
 
 13 
 
 Maho. I bcf? pardon. 
 
 Lord a. Am I dc trop f There sccma a mystery in 
 the house, to-diiy. Pray don't scruple to send iiu' away, 
 il' I interrupt any little tetc-a-tete, or — 
 
 LvPY I^ No — quite the rcN-^-rse — for Marj^an-t and I 
 have just Jij^reed to enlist you in our service. 
 
 Lord A. Charming! "NVhat's to be said? What's to 
 be done? Some hoax to execute? Nothing in the world 
 
 like 80 much. 
 
 Lady B. On the contraiy, it is to prevent one. 
 
 Loud A. Better still, but explain ? 
 
 Lady B. You are aware that I am in expectation of a 
 visit from my aunt ? 
 
 Maro. The dowager Lady — 
 
 Lord a. Tresilian. Good ! 
 
 Lady B. Well, it appears that our giddy fiiend. Sir 
 Frederick Chasemore, with what intent we know not, is 
 about to introduce an impostor h<>re in her place — an inex- 
 cusable jest, luckily confided by his valet to my maid, who 
 Tcry properly acquainted me with it. 
 
 Lord A. Oh, this is delightful ! 
 
 Lady B. You will not say so when I tell you who has 
 Vcn selected to represent my respectable .nint. 
 
 Lord A. Who? Who? Quick, let me hear. 
 
 Maro. No other than an actress from Lo' Ion. 
 
 Lord A. An actress ! Capital ! I know her. 
 
 Lady B. How can you tell that? 
 
 Lord A. I know them all. 
 
 Lady B. Indeed ! I congratulate you. 
 
 Lord A. Thank you ! But tell me who it is ? 
 
 Lady B. A soubrette from one of the London theatres ? 
 Scandalous ! 
 
 Lord A. From one of the Loudon theatres ! Glorious ! 
 
 Marg. And very pretty, too, by all accounts. Infamous ! 
 
 Lady B. What say you now ? 
 
 Lord A. Say? That the incident is delicious. "You 
 lave discovered the plot in time to turn the laugh against 
 them — so take my advice, retire to your rooms, caution 
 your servants to be out of the way when the caniago 
 •rrivcs, and leave the ta«k of getting rid *^f her to your 
 bumble servant. 
 
 . J>::^.*.it. .A ,* 
 
lii 
 
 Wm 
 
 J ^ ' ! 
 
 ■i I i 
 
 
 \i 
 
 14 
 
 THE DOWAGER. 
 
 Maiio. Exocllcnt! Suppose you were to affect to be 
 struck with her charms, and — 
 
 Lord A. I know — make love to her you mean ! Oh, 
 matter of course. 
 
 Lady B. Nay, nay, I really cannot sanction such a 
 proceeding. 
 
 Maro. Only to mystify her, you know. 
 
 Lady B. {aaide to Margaret.) And, at the same time, 
 to prevent Sir Frederick from — 
 
 Maro Hush ! 
 
 Lord A. Oh, very well, only say the word. If my 
 falling in love with her can be of the slightest service, pray 
 command me ; only give me a clear field, and I wager juy 
 head I win her before she's an hour older. 
 
 Lady B. Well, well, you have my consent But, now, 
 no imprudence ! 
 
 Lord A Trust to my generalship. Hark ! I hear the 
 wheels of a carriage ! Only let me beg of you to retire, 
 and I promise you a faithful account of what, I doubt not, 
 will prove my successful campaign. {Leculs them to the dour, 
 and kisses their hajids. \_Exeuntlji^^yY Bloomer a«t/ Mar- 
 garet, R. D What an exquisite adventure ! Who dares 
 talk of the dullness of the country, where such incidents 
 spring up ? But I must have a peep at our little actress. 
 I dare say I shall recognise an old acquaintance, {looks out.) 
 Eh ? — no ! — a stranger, and a pretty one, too. She's not 
 dressed in character — how's that ? Here she comes ! 
 I'll get out of the way for a moment, that she may find the 
 drawing-room as empty as the hall. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Take 
 care my little soubrette, you have a more difficult part to 
 play tlian you imagine. \^Exit l. 2 £• 
 
 Dowager, {heard without.) What no one to receive 
 me ! No one to announce me ! 
 
 > .■ ♦ 
 
 Enter Dowager, l. h. d. '' ' ■ ' 
 
 Not a soul ! Instead of my niece's country house, I must 
 have stumbled upon an uninhabited castle. Ha ! ha I ha ! 
 From the accounts I have just received of her and her 
 visitors, I suspect ray presence will not be ill-timed, and, 
 1^'th the insight which my informant has ^ven me into 
 
THE DOWAGER. 
 
 Iff 
 
 tho slate of domestic politics, a couple of years spent in 9 
 foreii^n court, and a woman's tact, I think I shall not feel 
 at a loss aniouj;- these London fashionables. 
 
 Mako. (l. peepin;/ in u. H. — aside.) I must have ono 
 puep, just to see what she's like. 
 
 DoWAG. (l.) Ah! there's some one at last. Come in, 
 chUd! 
 
 .Marg. {aside.) Child, indeed ? The impertinent crea- 
 ture ! 
 
 DowAG. Pon't be alarmed. I am — 
 
 Makg. The Dowager Countess of Tresilian ! Am I 
 ri^ht ? 
 
 Dowag. Quite right. But why that tone of irony ? 
 
 Marg. I say you are the Dowager Countless of Tre- 
 sihan ? 
 
 DowAG. I am. 
 
 Marg. Of course. Ha! ha! You perform the character 
 admirably. 
 
 Dowag. Perform the character ! 
 
 Marg. I will be candid with you. You are known. 
 
 Dowag. Am I ? 
 
 Marg. Take my advice. Depart at once, ere the matter 
 take a more serious turn. Lad>- Bloomer is much incensed 
 against you, for she knows all. 
 
 Dowag. Indeed! {aside.) How very strange ! And pray 
 what does she know? 
 
 Marg. That your visit here was preconcerted with that 
 mudcap, '^•■" Frederick. 
 
 Dowag. Sir Frederick! [aside.) Ah! this must be 
 Margaret Beauehamp. And who may Sir Frederick be ? 
 
 Marg. Nay, now, you need not affect ignorance — Sir 
 Frederick Chasemore — your friend., Sir Frederick. 
 
 DoAVAG. My friend! [aside.) What can this mean? 
 Here is evidently some mistake. Believe me, whatever 
 objeet I may have in presenting myself here, it can but 
 be one of perfect indifference to Sir Frederick Chase- 
 more. 
 
 Marg. Indeed! Mav I believe you ? 
 
 Dowag. Come, come, my good young friend, we must 
 understand each other better. Let me at once into the 
 Secret. You say you all know the motive of my visit ? 
 
THE DOWAOEK. 
 
 i < 
 
 MAUfi. Certainly — it was for a joke ; you thought to 
 hoax, to mystify us. . 
 
 DoWAU. I! Mercy on me I 
 
 Maik;. Sir Frederick is most to blame, after all, for it 
 appears it was he that brou;i;lit you here. 
 
 Do WAG. Oh, Sir Frederick brought me here ; audpraj 
 with what intent. 
 
 Makg. In the hope, no doubt, that with youi* amusing 
 talents, he should succeed in dissipating- the ennui which 
 has crept into the house since the threatened visit of the 
 iJowager, the terrible aunt, whose character you have 
 undertaken. 
 
 Do wag. Aha! I begin to perceive! Your gay party 
 has been broken up, then, solely on her account: This 
 aunt must be a most forbidding person. 
 
 jVIaug. a downright kill-jo)- ! 
 
 Do WAG. I thought a.s much ! 
 
 Makg. A methodical, country-bred bore, ignorant of 
 the usages o^ fashionable life. 
 
 DowACi. lla ! ha! Full of ridiculous prejudices, no 
 doubt ; whose rigid nmscles are too firmly knit, ever to 
 relax even into a smile. 
 
 Maud. Exactly! Ha! ha! And as to a laugh ! — 
 
 Do WAG. Ha! ha! ha! Oh! a laugh would certainly 
 "^e the death of her ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 (^As they are both lauyhing heartily^ Loed Alfred 
 advances between them, from his hiditiy place. 
 
 Lord A. Ha! ha! ha! Capital! 
 
 Marg. Iqj^j 
 
 Do WAG. J 
 
 Lord A. You arc enjoying yourselves, ladies. 
 
 Mar<>. Lord Alfred, how you startled me. 
 
 Do WAG. {aside.) Oh, the gay Lord Alfred Lyndsay. 
 
 Lord A. {aside to Margaret.) Miss Margaret, you 
 have stolen a mf.rch upon me ; you were to remain in 
 yoiu- own apartment. 
 
 Marg. My cm-iosity, I confess, led me — 
 
 Lord a. {aside to Margaret.) Allow me, then, to 
 conduct you — {^Offers his haiid, and leads her to the door^ 
 E. II. [Exit Margaret, e. h. d. 
 
 actn 
 I] 
 
 tho 
 
 all 
 
 bret 
 L 
 
 niim 
 
 part 
 
 filior 
 P 
 L 
 
TIIK T)0"WAGEU. 
 
 17 
 
 DoWAG. So. po ; I am a kill-joy, am I ? if^or.int of the 
 usages of fiishioiiablc life ! Very pretty, my kind friends, 
 vcrv pretty — but we shall see. 
 
 Lord A. {aside.) Now, then, to the attaek. Egad, it's 
 lucky I'm not afraid of a pair of bright eyes, for there's a 
 wajiigcry about those flashing diamonds of her's that Mould 
 make a coward quail ; fortunately, they are just the sort I 
 like. 
 
 DoAVAG. {aside.) I am curious to know this butterfly 
 par excellence — perhaps I may gather from him who it is 
 the}* tiike me for. 
 
 Lord A. Madam, your most obedient. We are alone, 
 so, with your permission, we will waive ceremony, and, in 
 two minutes, I feel certain we shall understand each other 
 perfectly. 
 
 DowAG. I trust we may ; for, at present, I must own 
 myself completely at fault. 
 
 Lord A. Come, come, my little saucy one (DowAfiKR 
 ilrairs up), you needn't trouble yourself to look dignified 
 any longer — you're a bad figure for the part. 
 
 DowAG. The part ! 
 
 Lord A. Yes, one sees at once that it is out of your 
 line. 
 
 DowAG. Out of my line ! 
 
 Lord A. Take mv advice. Stick to the soubrettes. 
 
 Do WAG. The soubrettes ! 
 
 Lord A. The chambermaids. I knt)w. you see. 
 
 DowAG. Better than I know myself, apparently. Who 
 am I tlien ? 
 
 Lord A. A charming woman, and a must pit^uante little 
 actress. Am I right ? 
 
 Dow AG. That others must determine, (aside.) So, so, 
 the secret's out : I must try and keep up my eharacter at 
 all events. Oh, I am an actress, engaged for the sou- 
 brettes ? 
 
 Lord A. Yes, the chambernuiids ; but to oblige the 
 manager. Sir Frederick Chasemore, have imdertaken the 
 part of an antiquated aunt, from the country, at very 
 short notice. 
 
 PoWAG. And "hope for the usual indvdgcnee." 
 
 L(>RD A. Exactly. You see I am acquainted with your 
 
18 
 
 THE DOWAGEB. 
 
 i w 
 
 ■ i ■! 
 ill ' ' 
 
 im 
 
 plot. Bnt you should have disguised yourself better. 
 You're not at all well made up for the part. 
 
 DowAG. Don't you think, then, that I look like a 
 crabbed, cross-grained aunt. 
 
 I-OED A. You look like an arch little devil. 
 
 DowAG. Sir! 
 
 Lord A. Oh, that air of dignity ! Ha ! ha ! ha ? No, 
 no, to have represented the Dowager, you should have 
 made youself an old frump, all bone and buckram — blacked 
 a tooth or two — worn green spectacles — and put on a 
 cauliflower wig. 
 
 DowAG. Ha! ha! {aside.) For an imaginary portrait, 
 mine is certainly not a flattered one. 
 
 Lord A. I told you we should soon understand each 
 other. So now the play's over, and you may go home. 
 
 Do WAG. Indeed ! 
 
 Lord A. Yes. Your part's a failiu-e. 
 
 DowAG. Not yet. 
 
 Lord A. It isn't your fault. You didn't know the 
 character of those with whom you had to deal. 
 
 DoAVAG. I did not indeed. 
 
 Lord A. And when you talk to people you don't 
 know — 
 
 DowAG. You can't tell how absurd you are making 
 yourself. 
 
 Lord A. I believe it. 
 
 DowAG. And I am certain of it. But now I know 
 what I'm about. 
 
 Lord A. Thanks to me. 
 
 DowAG. Thanks, indeed ! for what ? Why you would 
 strip me of all my acquired dignities — 
 
 Lord A. To leave you your own natural graces. 
 
 DowAG. And deprive me of my character of a great 
 lady— 
 
 Lord A. To restore to you that of a pretty one 
 
 DowAG. Shall I gain or lose by the exchange ? 
 
 Lord A. Gain, a hunched per cent. 
 
 DowAG. You don't like great ladies, then? 
 
 JiORD A. Oh yes, I do, immensely ! 
 
 Dow AG. But you like pretty ones better? 
 
 Lord A. Ten thousand times, as I will prova. 
 
THl D0WA61SS. 
 
 It^ 
 
 DoWAO. Ay, indeed ! How ? 
 
 LoBD A. By making love to you. '■ 
 
 DowAO. You are determined to lose no time, at all 
 
 events. 
 
 LoKD A. To be sure not ; I never throw away a chance, 
 life's too short There are but two sensations I know of 
 in the world — the being pleased, and the being bored. To 
 seek the one, and fly the other, are the great objects of 
 one's existence. Therefore I hate your lukewarm court- 
 ships. Love at once, marry at once — live quick, and die 
 suddenly, say I. What do you say. 
 
 Do WAG. Nothing. I have never tried any of those 
 experiments. 
 
 Loud A. What, have you never loved ? 
 
 Do WAG. Oh yes, often — 
 
 Lord A. So have L 
 
 Do WAG. By rote. 
 
 Loed a. Not by heart ? Then now's your time. I love 
 ffoti — that's half; love me — and that's all. 
 
 DowAG. Gently there. Our acquaintance has scarcely 
 commenced. Love must have time to grow. 
 
 LoiiD A. No such thing. True love never grows. Look 
 at Cupid himself, what a shrimp he is ; he has had plenty 
 of time, and yet he'll never be any bigger. People should 
 love at once, I tell you 
 
 DowAG. Before they know each other ? Apropos, you 
 have cunningly detected my character of soubrctto. and 
 I have answered all your questions. Now, sir, may I ask 
 you what part of the play you perforin ? 
 
 LoKD A. Me — oh, I — I'm a walking gentleman. 
 
 DowAG. Is that all ? Ha ! ha ! Your pretensions arc 
 sUght, indeed. 
 
 Lord A. They were so, but since I have seen you, I 
 have become ambitious, and have determined to change 
 my line. 
 
 Do WAG. Ay, indeed! What do you aspire to play 
 now? 
 
 Lord A. Smart servants. 
 
 Do WAG. Do you call that aspiring ? From a gentleman 
 to a valet is a descent. 
 
 Lobd a. Not when the acme of perfection is o waiting 
 
 *^.4.. ~:\i 
 
96 
 
 9m nowkGvn, 
 
 
 1 , li; i| 
 
 woman. The world is turned topsy tutyy, and so am I. 
 By Iloavcn ! there's a thrilling something in those eyes of 
 yours — a winning — something else — in your manner — and 
 a — fascinating — I don't know what — in your — altogether, 
 that makes me — I can't tell why — feel indescribably — I 
 don't know how. 
 
 DowAG. A most eloquent speech, truly; but it won't 
 do at all for the *' smart servants." Take my advice, 
 stick to the " walking gentlemen." But, a truce to this 
 badinage. i 
 
 Lord A. Nay, I am in earnest. ' , 
 
 Do WAG. In what ? 
 
 LoKD A. In my love for you. 
 
 Do WAG. Oh, of course ! I happen to be the last new 
 comer. To-morrow 'twill be some one else. . 
 
 Lord A. Oh! 
 
 DowAG. It will. The Dowager herself, perhaps, who 
 knows ? The old formal frump — all bone and buckram. 
 
 Lord A. I ! in love with her ? Absm-d ! 
 
 DoAVAG. Not at all. You will find " something in her 
 eyes, or a something else in her manner, and you'll find 
 yourself, yo\i can't tell why, indescribably, you don't know 
 how." Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, you "walking gentlemen " are 
 sad ramblers. 
 
 Lord A. Can't you be serious? . ^ 
 
 DowAG. It's out of my line; you told me so your- 
 self. 
 
 Lord A. Then believe me so, and hear me swear that 
 the impression you have made upon my heai't is no common 
 one. The new sensation that pervades my breast — 
 
 DowAG. Ay, there it is. Who was it offered a reward 
 for anew sensation? (Lord Alfred is about to speak.) Oh, 
 I know it wasn't you ; but perhaps, had you thought of it 
 first, it might have been. The court butterfly, roving 
 from belle to belle, with confessedly but two feelings in 
 your composition, the love of pleasure and the fear of pain, 
 you pass your aimless life in creating the entmi you fly 
 from, till your very successes become monotonous, and 
 novelty is a treasui'e beyond price, even though it wear 
 green spectacles, and a cauliflower wig. 
 
 lA)ii» A. This tone of ridicule — 
 
THE DOWAOER. 
 
 ss 
 
 Do>VAO. Astonishes you. no doubt ; it is not often that 
 your empty vows are so received, I know. 
 
 Lord A. I must confess it ! But, pshaw ! what would 
 you have a poor woman do ? 
 
 Do\VAG. I would have a woman reserve lier welcome 
 for real merit, her esteem for acknowledged talent, her 
 smile for the truly amiable, and her affection for him whose 
 life is glorious and useful. 
 
 Loud A, lam suiprised ! amazed! What is all this? 
 You are more than you appear. 
 
 DoWAG. And so, for your own sake, I trust, arc you. 
 
 Loud A. I am — I will be. I will be anything you 
 please. 
 
 Do WAG. Then be silent, for some one approaches. 
 
 Fked. {heard ivithout.) Eut I assure you it is no such 
 thing. 
 
 Lord A. Chasemore's voice ! Provoking interruption ! 
 
 Do WAG. Ah ! Sii* Frederick ! the inventor of this 
 pretty plot ; he must pay for it. 
 
 Lord A. The ladies are with him. {goes to meet them.) 
 
 Do WAG. It is now ray turn. The enemy is at hand — a 
 little audacity and the day is mine. 
 
 Enter Lady Bloomer, Sir Frederick, Margaret, 
 and Edgar, r. h. d. 
 
 Lady B. Your conduct is unjustifiable ! 
 
 Fred. It would have been, I own ; but ere the moment 
 for action arrived, the fear of displeasing you crossed my 
 mind, and I renounced the notion altogether. 
 
 Marg. How can we believe this, when before our very 
 eyes — {indicating the Dowager.) 
 
 Frkd. It is the truth, I pledge my honour ! 
 
 Do WAG. What! youi- sacred word of honour! Oh, 
 Frederick ! Frederick ! 
 
 Udy B. I Frederick! 
 Fred. Frederick! 
 
 DowAG. Nay, it is useless to attempt further conceal- 
 ment. Our plot is discovered. 
 Lady B. You hear, sir \ you hear. 
 
m 
 
 22 
 
 THE DOWAGER. 
 
 Fred. Our plot I 
 
 DoWAO. {to SiK FuKDERiCK.) Ycs, our plot — or youn^ 
 if you ir'dl claim all the credit. But have }(ju Iwigotten 
 it: Did you not scud for mc to assist you in mystifying 
 an " old frump of an aunt, and her coquette of a niece ? " 
 Those were your words. 
 
 Lady B. Coquette ! 
 
 Do WAG. And in exposing the opposite follies of a timid, 
 dull-puted sloth, who dares make love to nobody — 
 
 Loud A. {tiudyiny Edgjlb..) Hem! 
 
 Edgau. Eh ! Infamous ! 
 
 DowAG. And a flippant lordling, who is ready to make 
 love to anybody. 
 
 Edgar, {nudghuj Lord Alfred.) Hem ! 
 
 Lord A. Eh? Ah! Capital! 
 
 Fred. Confusion ! {to Lady Bloomer.) Madam, let 
 mc assure you — 
 
 Lady B. I will listen to nothing, sir I 
 
 Fred. Margaret ! I sweax — 
 
 Marg. Silence, sir! 
 
 Fred. Edgar! , 
 
 Edgar. Oh, for shame ! 
 
 Fred. Alfred! 
 
 Lord A. Oh, shocking ! Ha ! ha ! ha ? 
 
 Fred. But hear me ! 1 repeat I am ready to swear, 
 upon the honour of a gentleman, that I never saw that 
 lady till now. 
 
 Lord A. Eh ? WTiat's that you say ? 
 
 Do wag. What! does the presence of your noble friends 
 make you ashamed to recogiiise the humble acMpiaintancc 
 whose poor talents have so often dispelled your fits of 
 ennui — ennui brought on, as you assured me, by the vapid 
 society of those very friends, too ! Oh fie ! 
 
 Lady B. This is beyond endurance ! 
 
 Fri:d. Once for all, 
 ladv ! 
 
 Lady B. Lady, indeed ! I am thunderstruck. Sir 
 Frederick. Abuse my hospitality, introduce an impostor 
 here, to play a vile part beneath my roof ! I'll never 
 forgive it — never ! 
 
 Marg. Nor I! : - . 
 
 I disclaim all knowledge of the 
 
THE D0WA.OF,R. 
 
 9a 
 
 DowAO. Nor I ! It is a vile part, indoed : the worst I 
 oci- pliiyc'd, {to Sir Frederick.) You promised mo I 
 ihoiild liavc the cutire comedy to mysolf, whercus. I find 
 you !iave engaged a whole company to play all the priucipaJ 
 characters. 
 
 La in' B. Mercy on me! Do you take us, then, for 
 actr.'sscs ? 
 
 Do WAG. Certainly! Is it not to act a part, to pass for 
 what one is not? To sacrifice, for instance, the man one 
 really loves, to achieve the conquest of a coxcomb, for 
 whom one doesn't care a rush.'' 
 
 KnoAR. (aside.) That's the most sensible thing she has 
 mid yet. 
 
 Do WAG. Or to assume the simpleton, by witnessing 
 such conduct, and yet lack resolution to break from the 
 thraldom of a heartless coquette. 
 
 Edgar, {aside ) My face feels like a furnace ! 
 
 Do WAG. {to Lord Alfred.) Or to sigh, to die, and to 
 affect to breathe one's heart out at the feet of every woman 
 €iie meets. In what line do vou class the last character. 
 Lord Alfred? 
 
 LoKD A. It doesn't belong to the "walking gentlemen." 
 Ask your friend. Sir Frederick. 
 
 Do WAG. No, no; though he «'« a little fickle, we must 
 excuse him. Too well assured of the sincere afibction of 
 an artless girl, he seeks eternally for amusement, as a relief 
 from what he calls the over-strained sentiment of a love- 
 •ick child. .• 
 
 Marg. {crying.) The monster! 
 
 Fred, {to Dowager.) Madam! madam! you are 
 ruining me ! 
 
 DoAVAO. Why, what's the matter with the man? 1 
 thought I was obliging him. I'm sure I've done my best 
 to amuse ; but you don't laugh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! One 
 would really think we were acting a tragedy, to look at 
 your long faces. Well, well, I take my leave. I see you 
 don't like my sketches of character. 
 
 Lord A. I do. I glory iu them. I could listen to you 
 for ever. 
 DoAVAO Forever! Oh, you mean for hali-an-hour. \ 
 Lord A. Not at all. .... 
 
fl4 
 
 THB DOWAOEll. 
 
 i: - I 
 
 i|i 
 
 h 
 
 1 .1 
 
 DowAo. {to Lady Bloomer.) Madam, I thank you for 
 your liospitality, though I confess you have tiiken a siiiirular 
 mode of sliowing it. But I will not complain ; you do tho 
 same hy your love, {to Edoar.) What! stiU basliful, 
 Mr. l">l<^ar ? Courage, man ! Ask your friend, Lord Alfred, 
 to give you a lesson in gallantry, {to MARGAiiiir.) Miss 
 Jlargaret — mark me ! It is not always policy to let one's 
 love i)e too well known, lest it be lightly valued, {to Sir 
 Frkdf.rick.) Frederick, you will drop in and see me soon. 
 Come, give me one smile before I go, won't you ? You 
 were to die with laughter at the ridicule of your friends, 
 you know — ha! ha! ha! — and, after all, the most ridiculous 
 figure is — ha ! ha ! — yourself ! Mr. Edgar, you arc the least 
 dangerous of the party, therefore may I ask your arm ? 
 Ladies and gentlemen, pardon my ignorance of the usages 
 of fashionable life. I rashly imdertook the part of a (lig- 
 nifii'd old dowager, for which you flatteringly pronounce 
 mo Tuifit. It is my first appearance in the character, I 
 assure you; and now, having resigned it, I thankfully 
 resume my o\vn, and remain, ladies and gentlemen, your 
 most obedient, very humble servant — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 [^Extt with Edgar, l. h. d. 
 
 Fred. I'll not rest till I have this mystery cleared up. 
 Lady Bloomer — Margaret — excuse me for a moment, I 
 muftt follow her. \_Exit hastily, l. h. 
 
 Lord A. You saw she was afraid to accept my arm — 
 that spoke Tolumes! Oh, don't despair! I'm making 
 rapid progress, I assure you. [^Exit hastily, l. h, 
 
 Marg. Louisa! ) /i al j j\ 
 
 •Lady B. Margaret!} (*«^^ **«^^^-) . 
 
 Marg. How do you feel ? 
 
 Lady B. I don't like it at all ! 
 
 Marg. Nor I ! One would almost fancy they left us, 
 to follow her. 
 
 Lady B. {rises.) Do you think so ? I begin to fear 
 we have been very foolish. 
 
 Marg. Oh, Louisa ! don't frighten me ! It's too bad 
 ef Frederick, when he knows my affection for him. 
 
 Lady B. And of your brother, too, when he knows how 
 I love him. 
 
 Marg. Do you reallj ? 
 
 .1... /.»' '^'^ 
 
THE DOWAGER. 
 
 25 
 
 Lvnv B. Of course I do! ITow can you ask me such 
 a question ? And to be positively deserted in this 
 manner. 
 
 M.vua. And deserted i'or bueli a wowuu, too'. 
 
 Lady B. An artful — 
 
 M.vKO. Desijjfuinj^ — 
 
 Lady B. Impertinent — 
 
 Mau(;. ITj^ly— 
 
 Lady B. {embracitty her.) Z)o you think her uyly ? 
 
 Maug. Ehr Why — don't you? 
 
 Lady B. Me — oh — I'm afraid I don't, Margaret. 
 
 Marg. And I'm sure I don't, Louisa. I've a dn adful 
 iuis<i;iving th-it she's rather pretty. 
 
 Lady B. My love, the creature's beautiful. 
 
 Maug. So she is ; and {igreeablc, too. 
 
 Lady B. Delightful! 'The wretch! {crying.) 
 
 Mako. The monster! {crying.) 
 
 Lady B. But what's to be done? Arc they really 
 g(ine? 
 
 Makg. Oh, no ; to prevent the escape of this impostor, 
 I ordered the servants to secure her horses. 
 
 Lady B. Hark! Some one is coming — perhaps our 
 iiTal ! I will not submit to a second inters'iew with her, 
 I'm determined. Come to my room, and we will coutrivo 
 ■ome plan to win our lovers back again. 
 
 Marg. Yes, yes. Quick ! quick ! ■ 
 
 Lady B. Edgar ! Edgar ! why were you not bolder in 
 your wooing ? 
 
 Marg. Oh, Frederick ! Frederick ! why were you so 
 lold? \ Exeunt k. ii 
 
 Enter Lord Alfred, from the garden. 
 
 Lord A. Ha ! ha ! ha ! this is better than all ; carriage, 
 ■iorses, servants, all have disappeared, and so departure is 
 ■npossible. Matters are not desperate yet. But what a 
 'Grange adventure I I feel an interest in this woman, 
 Aat I never felt in any woman yet. Is she an actress ? 
 • what is she? No matter — I love her — love her 
 •Kioiuly; have told her so, and yet she ridicules me. 
 
26 
 
 THE DOWAOEH. 
 
 It 
 
 ■ii: 
 
 ml 
 
 But docs she really so ? Who can tell : 
 and I'm fuirly pu/zlcd for u solution. 
 
 She is a riddle, 
 
 J^ntcr Edgar cautiously from the garden. 
 
 Edgar. Alfred ! 
 
 Lord A. Edgar! you here? How's this, is the lady 
 gone ? 
 
 Edgar. No, Sir Frederick is now trying, at her request 
 to find her carriage ; and, in the mean time, as she said 
 nothiiiir, and I could find nothing to say, she made me a 
 curtsey, implying she would'nt detain me, and I made her 
 a bow, and left her. 
 
 Lord A. You did? Ye gods! what a man! And 
 why ? 
 
 Edoar. I wanted to ask your advice. 
 
 Lord A. Indeed ! 
 
 Edgar. Yes, you must know I am veiy unhappy. 
 
 Lord A. Unhappy ! I can't think how people can be 
 unhappy ! How d'ye set about it ? 
 
 Edgar. Oh ! there are plenty of ways ! I'll tell you 
 one. I'm in love. 
 
 Lord A. I know it. 
 
 Edgar. No you don't. 
 
 Lord A. AVhy, you've just told me so — and if you 
 hadn't, do you think all the world doesn't know it ? Pshaw, 
 man ! But you shall have my advice. You set the wrong 
 way to work, then ; moping and sighing will never move 
 the heart of a woman of spirit, like Lady Bloomer ! Why 
 don't you do as I do ? — run gaily to your love — talk, sing, 
 romp with her! Won't she chatter? chatter for her! 
 Won't she dance ? make her ! Won't she laugh ? damme ! 
 tickle her ! 
 
 Edgar. Oh, what an idea! I never could do that 
 13esides, you are mistaken in the lady. 
 
 Lord A. Mistaken! nonsense! Lady Bloomer is thr 
 fair object of your devotion. 
 
 Edgar. No, she isn't. It is true, I once loved jt 
 Ardently ; but I have done with her. I love another. 
 V Lord A Another ! . • • » 
 
 Wpgab. Hush! {tvhispers.) The lovely stranger yonder. 
 
riddle. 
 
 THF DOWAOER. 
 
 2r 
 
 bqucst 
 
 le said 
 
 |e lue a 
 
 ido her 
 
 .ind 
 
 Why 
 
 I 
 
 Loni) A. Who? Why, vou don't moim the — (points 
 of— aside.) This is as well to know. You lunaze me. 
 Why, you inconstant rogue, you're a i)ositive 7"^ >n Juan. 
 
 EiifiAR. No, no, you wronj^ me; on i\w contrary, I had 
 tht misfortune to be born timid. 
 
 Loud A. Timid I How very odd ! I'm not timid. 
 
 EixiAii. No, exactly. I dare .say, now, you wouldn't 
 be alhiid to tell a wonum you loved her. 
 
 LoKD A. Afraid ! lla I ha ! ha ! How is she to know 
 it, if you don't till her ? 
 
 Edgar. ITiat has often struck me. 
 
 LoKD A. You'll sav that your eyes can speak. 
 
 KnrJAii. No I shan t — I daren't look up. 
 
 Loud A. No I — why you cowai-d ! I dare ! But listen, 
 Edfj;ar, I must let you into a secret — you've a rival ! 
 
 Edgar. I know it. 
 
 Lord A. The deuce you do ! 
 
 Edgar. Yes — Sir Frederick. 
 
 Lord A. Ehr {aside.) Another discovery! I must be 
 cautious here. ^ 
 
 Edgar. Now my idea is this — to >^Tite to her ! A 
 letter doesn't blush, you know. I could tell her plainly 
 all I feel. 
 
 Lord A. You ruin youi'self at once ! {aside.) I mustn't 
 give him such a chance as that ! He may be eloquent on 
 paper ! A letter's so cold, so formal — you'll freeze her. 
 You musn't write — you must speak to her ! {aaidc.) And 
 then I think I'm quite safe. 
 
 Edgar. But I don't know how to be}jjin. 
 
 Lord A. Oh, a thousand trifles will afford you an 
 
 opening. The di-oppiug of her glove, her fan — anything 
 
 will give you an opportunity of showing your gallantry ; 
 
 and, once started, you will find the rest Ibllow, as naturally 
 
 ^ible. 
 
 oar. Shall I? I feel very courageous now. If I 
 tii ,ht it would last — 
 
 . -oHD A. Never doubt it — strike, while the iron's hot — 
 seek an interview with her at once. 
 
 Edgar {going towards garden, r. h.) I will — that is— 
 m go and t^ ink about it. 
 
 CCj fig, B. H., turns, and Exit into garden, B. h. 
 
28 
 
 THE BOWAOER. 
 
 As he goes out^ Sib Fkedkrick jiceps in^ b. h. 1 & 
 
 Fred. Is he gone ? 
 
 Lord A. All's safe. Hare you found the carriage? 
 
 Fred. No — I havn't even looked for it. 
 
 Lord A. How's that r 
 
 Frkd. I want your adviee, and quickly. 
 
 Lord A. You shall have it. 
 
 I-'rim), First, you must know, I'm in love. 
 
 liOUD A. A good beginning. 
 
 Margaret loves me in return. 
 A. Agreeable enough. 
 
 I want to be married. 
 
 A. Notning more natural. Why shouldirt 
 
 Fu KD 
 liOUD 
 
 Fred 
 Loud 
 
 you r 
 
 Fred. In vaui have I for months implored her to nanw 
 the ha])py day — till at last I have determined to hasten 
 her d(H'ision by afFeetiug a love for another. 
 
 Loud J^ Oh — affectimj a love for another — I imder- 
 stand. {aside.) The artful rogue ! He wants to deceive 
 me. It's lucky I was prepared for him. 
 
 Fred. Yes, and the person I have pitched upon to aid 
 that effect, is the very stranger who so provokingly claimed 
 acquaintance ^vith me to-day. 
 
 Lord A. You really did not know her then ? 
 
 ]'ri:d. I have already pledged my honor. 
 
 Lord a. I'm satisfied. (r/5/V/p.) And am convinced that 
 she is a person of rank. But how am I to help you in the 
 matter ? 
 
 FuEJ). Thus — as time is short, and I am unskilled in the 
 ai't of lady-killing, I want yo \r advice as to the shortest 
 method of jjettinur the credit of bi'ino: in her 
 
 good 
 
 graces. 
 
 Lord A. Oh, only the credit, eh ? You couldn't have 
 applied to a better person. Let me see — are you timid? 
 
 Fred. Not a bit. The women con ^lain I am toa 
 bold. 
 
 Lord A. (asiue.) A dangerous quality in a rival. I 
 daren't trust him with an interview. I'll fetter him. Yob. 
 must write to her. 
 
THE DOWAOEB. 
 
 29 
 
 Fbed. [gf^^ng.) I will directly. 
 
 Lord A. Stay! {aside.) His very rashness may help to 
 destroy him. On second thoughts, 'twill be better for 
 you to sec her. 
 
 FuKD. And T like that better. 
 
 Loud A. Yes ; a letter will delay you, and may put 
 her on her guard. One interview is worth all the litters 
 in the world. Attack her at once, while unprepared — 
 flu-stcr her — 
 
 FuED. And if she won't surrender at discretioH — 
 
 Lord A. Storm her ! 
 
 Frkd. I will, {going.) 
 
 Lord A. Above all, try and obtain some trophy that 
 you can show — snatch up a bouquet, a ring, a bracelet — 
 no matter what, and you have ostensible proof of your 
 victor}'. 
 
 Fred. That's a bold expedient. Have you ever pur* 
 loinod a trophy in this M-ay r 
 
 Lord A. Ever ! I've di-awers full of them. 
 
 Fred. Enough — I'll do it. 
 
 Lord A. {aside.) If that doesn't disgust her, I don't 
 know what will. 
 
 Fred. A thousand thanks. Excuse my mixing you ujk 
 in love affairs that don't interest you. 
 
 Lord A. On the contrary ; believe me, I take tho 
 liveliest interest in them. 
 
 Fred. You're very good. 
 
 Enter Edgar from r. garden. 
 
 Lord A. {aside.) Here's the other. 
 
 Edoar. Ah ! Sir Frederick I Well, is the carriage 
 forthcoming ? 
 
 Fred. No signs of it. {aside) Keep him out of the way 
 while I commence the siege. 
 
 Lord. A. {to Sir Frederick.) Yes, yes ; I'll take 
 care of that. 
 
 Edgar, {to Lord Alfred.) I've made up my mind — 
 ril speak to her, that is, if I dare. 
 
 Lord A. {to Edgar.) Never fear, man, your modesty 
 will please her. , .^ 
 
:i 
 
 
 il 
 
 W THE DOWAGXB. 
 
 Edoab. {to Loud Alfred.) Do you think so ? 
 
 Lord A. {io Sir Frederick.) You can't be too 
 pressing — she'll like your boldness. 
 
 Fred, {to Lojid Alfred.) I'm glad to hear that. 
 
 Lord A. {to Edgar.) Remember, the first step is the 
 difficulty. 
 
 Edgar, {to Lord Alfred.) Don't mention it. 
 
 Lord A. {to Sir Frederick.) Never mind how you 
 begin, but don't leave her without a trophy. 
 
 Fred, {to Lord Alfred.) Trust me for that — but get 
 rid of Edgar for me. 
 
 EdAIlr. {to Lord Alfbed.) What does Sir Frederick 
 want here ? 
 
 Lord A. {to Edgar.) Eh ? — Hush ! the fair one 
 approaches — leave me, and I'll prepare her to receive 
 you. 
 
 Edgar, {to Lord Alfred.) That's capital I 
 
 {going r. h. 
 
 Lord A. {to Sir Fpederick.) I've sent him away, 
 and you had better go, too, for I see her coming. 1 11 
 pave the way for you. 
 
 Fred, {to Lokd Alfred.) Excellent ! {going l. h, 
 
 Edgar, {rcfi/niing to Lord Altukd.) I say, you 
 rogue, if you can instruct another so well, what a devil 
 you must be when you are acting for yourself. 
 
 Lord A. Nonsense I — there — go, go. 
 
 [/s'xeV Edgar, garden r. h. 
 
 Fred, {returning.) Alfred, what do you say, shall I 
 make you a present of the ti'ophy to add to your 
 collection ? 
 
 Lord A. Yes, yes, you shall — but vanish, I tell you. 
 Phew ! a curious position I am in here. 
 
 lExit Sir Frederick, l.h. 
 
 Unter Dowager, l. h. d. 
 
 DowAO. (l.) So, it appears I am a prisoner. I 
 beg pardon, I tho\ight I saw your two iVieuds with 
 you. 
 
 Lord A. (r.) They were, madam, and they were 
 speaking of you. 
 
 J 
 
TRZ DOWAQSS. 
 
 at 
 
 DowAG. Of me ! And did you join them in their 
 eensure ? 
 
 Lord. A. Censure ! There was no ilauger of that : 
 they were confessing to me that they loved you. 
 
 DowAG. Loved me ! What ! both of them ? This is 
 too absurd ! 
 
 Lord. a. It is no less true, {crosses to l.) But here 
 comes one who will convince you better than I can do 
 I will retire, madam — my presence may be troublesome. 
 
 ^Exit, L. H. 
 
 DowAG. No, no ; pray do not leave me. He is gone ! 
 How very unkind ! His manner, too, is changed ! What 
 ean all this mean ? 
 
 Enter Sib Fbedebick, l. 
 
 Fbed. Madam, I have sought your carriage in vain, 
 and I cannot but rejoice m my failure, since by 
 detaining you here, ray happiness is prolonged. 
 
 Do WAG. Sir ! 
 
 Enter "EdqjlB, /ram Garden b. he s*ops short. 
 
 Edgar, {aside.) I am too late, of course. 
 Fred. This morning you laid claim to my acquaintance 
 —oh ! do not now reject it. I must be plain with jou, 
 for the moments are short and precious. Let me then, at 
 once, declare my admiration for you. 
 Do WAG. Are you mad, sir r 
 Fred. Raving ! 
 Edgak. [aside.) He is. 
 
 Fred. Take pity on me : I do not expect to be 
 accepted, but grant me the slightest mark of your favour ; 
 if only a smile, a look, and while I press this fair hand to 
 my lij)8. {attempts to take it.) 
 Do wag. Hold, sir! 
 
 {She withdraws her hand hastily, and, in doing so, 
 drops her handkerchief. Sir FRLOKRifK instantly 
 falls on his knee, and seizes it. Edu.vu at the same 
 time advances, falls on his knee, and sfize.s the other 
 end of it. The Dowager hursts into un immoderate 
 ft of laughter. Loud Alfred enters at the same 
 time, and Joins in the ladfjli. 
 
S2 
 
 THE SOWAGEB. 
 
 LoKD A. {aside.) My advice lias had its Intended 
 effect. 
 
 Do WAG. Oh, this is too ridiculous ! 
 
 FiiEn. The trophy's mine! 
 
 Edgar. I'll not part with it, with life. 
 
 LoED A. {advancing.) Then I must cut the gordian 
 knot, {takes the handkerchief from them^ and gives it to 
 the DowAGKR.) Madam, your handkerchief. 
 
 Do WAG. {receives it from him.) Rise, gentlemen, and 
 let this folly have an end. You have tried to turn the 
 tables on me, but you have failed. Now, a truce to our 
 hostilities. As it seems I am a prisoner, let me see if I 
 cannot employ the period of my captivity, in restoring 
 peace and happiness among you. 
 
 Loud. A. How will you sot about it ? 
 
 DowAG. That is my secret. You are all three dis- 
 eonteuc.a. Mr. Edgar is dying of jealousy, Sir Frederick 
 of impatience, and Lord Alfred — 
 
 Lord A. of Love ! 
 
 DowAG. No ; — of curiosity. Only afccond me weH, 
 and a skilful leech will restore life to all. 
 
 Edgar. Impossible! 
 
 Lord A. I would give the world you could succeed. 
 
 Frkd. What must we do ? 
 
 Doavag. Promi.se obedience in whatever I command. 
 
 Lord A. I aiu wilUng. 
 
 Frkd. And I. 
 
 Edgar. And I. 
 
 Do WAG. Agreed. I have your words. 
 
 All. You have. 
 
 DowAQ. Then I'll undertake the task. 
 
 Enter Servant, k. h 
 
 Lord A. Well, sir, what do yrn want? 
 
 Skrvant. My lady desires h compliments to Sir 
 Frederick Chasemore and Mr. Beauchamp, and requests 
 the pleasui'c of their company immediately. 
 
 Do wag. As I expected — a good beginning, {to Ser- 
 vant.) The gentlemen return their compliments to your 
 
THE DOTTAOFR. 
 
 «8 
 
 Ifs and buts ! Is this 
 
 your 
 
 niistross and Miss Margaret, and decline the honour of 
 waitinLC t>ii them. 
 
 Ldgak. j 
 
 DoWAG. They are on the point of starting, you believe, 
 for London. \_J^xit Servant, r.] Gentlemen, you yviU 
 not suffer me to utter a falsehood, I am sure ; so, quit 
 the house instantly, and contrive it so that your 
 cruel fair ones may see you depart. Then leave your 
 horses in the village, and slily return here on foot to 
 await further orders. 
 Fred. Yes, but — 
 Edgar. How if — 
 Do WAG. Hey - day ! 
 obedienqe ? 
 FREDi True ! Come, Edgar. 
 DowAG. Quick, then ! 
 Edgar. We fly to obey you. 
 
 [^Exit slowly^ hurried by Sir Frederick, l. 
 DowAQ. As for you, my lord — 
 
 Lord A. I remain, and nothing on earth shall move 
 me. I have wagered that I will not quit this spot until 
 I know to whom I have the honour of speaking. 
 
 Dowag. And supposing I had wagered that you she M 
 never know it ? 
 Loud A. In that case one of us must lose. 
 Dowag. And that will be you. 
 Loud A. Or you. 
 Dowag. Well, time will show 
 
 Lord A. Do you think then that a man, with a little 
 tact, cannot discover any secret that a woman would fain 
 conceal from him ? 
 
 Dowag. And do you think that a woman, with a littlo 
 management, cannot prevent a nan from knowing any- 
 thing of which she chooses to keep him ignorant ? 
 
 Lord A. Answer me truly, two questions, and I'll tell 
 you who you are. 
 
 Dowag. Only two ! As many as you please. But, 
 first, your reason for interesting yourself tbus about a 
 Btranger ? 
 Lord. A. Have I not already told you — what can be 
 
*w 
 
 84 
 
 THE DOWAOER. 
 
 hi 
 
 M 
 
 ll 
 
 'e 
 
 
 . I it 
 
 J ! 
 
 more simple, or more plain — I love you, and would 
 make you my wife ? 
 
 DowAO. Your wife ! The noble Lord Alfred Lyndsay 
 wed an actress I 
 
 LoiU) A. You really are one ? 
 
 Dow'ACJ. Oh, you shrink already — you fear to blot your 
 proud escutcheon. 
 
 Loud A. Not I, by heaven ! 'Twill be embellished. 
 
 Do WAG. Remember, my armorials must be quartered 
 with yours. 
 
 Lo RD A. They shall be so. 
 
 Do WAG. A tambourine and a dagger, with liarlequiu 
 and columbine for supporters. 
 
 LoKD. A. Yes. 
 
 Do WAG. No, no. Content with my lot, I would not 
 climb to your high station. 
 
 LoED A. Then I will descend to yours. 
 
 DowAG. Ila ! ha ! ha I delightful ! " This evening, 
 will be performed the play of Blue Beard — Blue lieard by 
 Lord Alfred Lyndsay, (his first appearance on any stage.) 
 There's an announcement ! 
 
 Lord A. Ha! ha! ha! Your lively fancy quite 
 enchants me. Ours is a merry courtship, in good sooth, 
 and hits my humour exactly. The questions I intended 
 to ask, I waive, and am content to believe you are what 
 you tell me. Now, then, to what is of infinitely more 
 im})ortance. I love you, and would wed you ; there are 
 the essential points thoroughly established. It only 
 remains for me to convince you that you cannot refuse 
 me. 
 
 DowAG. Ah ! that will be curious. 
 
 Lord A. Nothing more easy. My fortune is large 
 —pshaw ! you are not of an age to be swayed by motives 
 of interest. No ; it is only indispensible that you should 
 find a man whose disposition, taste, habits, and pursuits, 
 entirely sympathize with your own. Now, I am thy ^ very 
 man. 
 
 Do WAG. Eeally, you decide that point for me. 
 
 LoBD A. At once. 
 
 DowAQ. Do you then Icnow so well my tastes and 
 Habits? 
 
THE DOWA.GEB. 
 
 85 
 
 Lord A. No ; but I know my own, and they will bo 
 yourg, whatever yours may be. 
 
 DowAG. A most accommodating disposition, truly. 
 
 Lord A. Nay, put it to the proof. Arc you fond of 
 dress, company, noise, dust, crowds, and splendour? 
 We'll have matchless equipages, and dazzling toilet* ; 
 we'll be seen at every fashionable resort ; never miss a 
 Boir^e, or a ball ; dance from night till morning ; play at 
 «carte, and — 
 
 Dow AG. I have already told you that I love not such 
 liifjh pursuits. 
 
 LoKD A. Nor I. So far, you see, wo agree. 
 
 Do WAG. My happiness lies snugly at home in the 
 chimney corner. 
 
 Lord A. The chimney comer ! I adore the chimney 
 corner ! How well we agree, you see. 
 
 DowAG. Could Lord Alfred tolerate what is called " a 
 erood housewife ?^' 
 ^ Lord A. The very thing a woman should be. 
 
 Do WAG. A quiet, stupid, stitching animal ? 
 
 Lord A. The very companion I have sighed for. 
 
 Do WAG. That most dreadfiil of all bores — " a good 
 manager?" 
 
 Lord A. I doat on a good manager ! I fancy I see 
 her now, in her band-box of a house, counting the 
 snow-white linen, marking the towels, pickling, pre- 
 serving — eh ? 
 
 DowAG. Unfashionable accomplishments, my lord. 
 
 Lord A. The best accomplishments in a wife are, to 
 regulate her servants, and make her children's pinafores— 
 to cherisli her husband — prepare his dressing go>\ni — be at 
 the window to greet him as he comes up the street — 
 
 DowAG. The street ! Oh, no, thank you ; ho must 
 renounce town entirely — I'm all for the country. 
 
 Lord A, And so am L There's nothing like a country 
 Hfe. Oh ! how I enjoy the getting up on a lovely spring 
 morning, to see the sun rise ; the fresh walk in one's own 
 fields before one's breakfast of bread baked in one's own 
 avens — honey from one's own bees, and eggs from one's 
 own hens : then the superintending one's young plan- 
 
 ne 8 hunters — the croj)inng one's 
 
 Nations — the visiting one 
 
f,0 
 
 THE DOWAOEIU 
 
 ( r 
 
 im- 
 
 iifin 
 
 !l« 
 
 1 In 
 
 hounrls' ears — feeding one's pigeons, one's rabbits, one'i 
 ducks, one's pigs — oh ! it's delicious ! 
 
 DowAG. He's very mad ! 
 
 Lord A. In short, madam, there is nothing on earth 
 that I dislike — will you have me ? 
 
 Do WAG. Not so fast. I certainly admire many good 
 qualities in you, but — 
 
 LoKD A. But if my past life has been marked by any 
 inconstancy and frivolity, it is because I have never till 
 now found a woman who could really fix me. 
 
 Do WAG. How very embarrassing. 
 
 Lord a. You have already awakened in my breast the 
 noble desire of being useful ; follow up this good by 
 teaching me in what way I may become so. 
 
 Do WAG. {aside.) I'll teach him no more : I meant but 
 to give him a salutary lesson, and I fear I shall get one 
 myself. 
 
 Lord A. You do not speak. 
 
 Do WAG. {aside.) The pupil is certainly getting the 
 better of his teacher. 
 
 Lord A. Could I but make you know the sort of 
 affection I feel, you must love me in return, you couldn't 
 help yourself. 
 
 DowAQ. Indeed — I fear— 
 
 Lord A. What? 
 
 Do WAG. I fear — that is — ^I was thinking that we are 
 beginning not to understand each other at all. 
 
 Lord A. On the contrary. I was thinking we were 
 just coming to a perfect understanding. 
 
 Enter Servant, b. h. 
 
 i? 
 
 , What the devil do you want ? 
 
 Do WAG. He brings two letters : one for Sir Frederick 
 Chasemore, the other for Mr. Beauchamp. 
 Servant. Yes, madam, 
 
 DowAG. I was sure of it. You have orders to send 
 them, without dclav, to London ? 
 Servant. I have, madam. 
 
 DowAO. Give them to me. I can save you th$ 
 « trouble- 
 
THE POWAOER. 
 
 #t 
 
 I meant but 
 
 Servant. But madam — 
 
 Do WAG. Go! I will be answerable for them. 
 
 [/ilriV Servant, l. h. d. 
 I guess what these letters contain. 
 
 Lord A. You discover everything. 
 
 Do wag. And you nothing. 
 
 Loud A. I have discovered all I wished to know. 
 {tahinji her hand.) I am in earnest, nor will I suffer you to 
 jest witli me longer. On my knee I implore your pity. 
 
 {ktuels.^ 
 
 Enter Lady Bloomer and Margaret, r. ii., from 
 garden; and, at the same moment. Sir Frederick 
 and Edgar, l. h., frotn garden. All laugh «/ Lord 
 Alfred and Dowager. 
 
 All. {except Lord Alfred and Dowager.) Bravo! 
 Bravo ! Capital ! 
 
 Lady B. {advancing.) Bravo, my lord ! I congratulate 
 you. 
 
 Lord A. Congratulate me ? 
 
 L\i)V B. Your manner was really so tender that, had 
 I not remembered that the joke Avas settled between 
 us — 
 
 Lord A. Joke ! {remembering.) Ah ! 
 
 {makes signs to L\dy Bloomer. 
 
 DoWAQ. {aside.) A joke ! What is this, madam, pray 
 explain — 
 
 Lady B. Oh, nothing — merely a little plan arranged 
 this morning between his lordship and myself, in order to 
 revenge — 
 
 Loud A. Not at all. I arrangt'd nothing. 
 
 La d v B. But it would be too ungenerous to continue the 
 deceit — too cruel any longer to expose a woman to tha 
 sochietions of so dangerous a man as Lord Alfred Lyndsay. 
 He undertook to win your love, and then amuse us by a 
 faithful account of his success. 
 
 FuLD. {aside.) Capital! And gave me advice, too. hovr 
 to woo her. 
 
 Edgar, {aside.) And mo too. 
 
r 
 
 ; 
 i, , 
 
 i 
 
 ■i ^• 
 
 > i\' 
 
 THE roWAOEU. 
 
 Lord A. Madam, the words you hoard mc spcalc— 
 
 DowA(;. Are ivcii now f'orj;ottcii, sir! 
 
 Loud A. What must she think of me? 
 
 r)()WA(i. All is over, madam, and I {jfo ; but ere I depart, 
 I liave two letters whieh I promised I would deliver to 
 these j^entlomen. 
 
 (Silt FuEDKurcK L. c. and KDr.Aii l. contfi /onvard. 
 
 Lady ]J. u. <;. — aside to Mauoauet.) Our letters; 
 They were not gone alter all ! 
 
 ^Iauo. (ii.) I told you there was treaehery ! 
 
 Do WAG. (c.) Gentlenuii, you have- kept faith with mo, 
 and here are your rewards. These letters (^yives them.) 
 will assure you, better than I ean do, that you are loved. 
 My stratagem has succeeded. 
 
 Lady li. But who are you, then, madam ? 
 
 DowAG. Ask Lord Alfred, he undertook to gain the 
 affections of a woman he did not love, and to discover her 
 name. Is he doomed to lose all his wagers? 
 
 Loud A. No! By my honour 1 swear they shall not 
 be lost! This morning I was an aindess, useless being; 
 flitting here and there, idle as the wind it.self. A few 
 hours only, and my nature is changed. How ? By ;i 
 woman, and that woman a stranger, her very name 
 a mystery! That name I promised to make known, ere 
 I (piitLe(l her. Have I your permission, madam, to 
 pronounce it? 
 
 DowAG. Oh, certainly — what is it? 
 
 Loud A. Lady Alfred Lyndsay. (takes her Itand.) 
 Ah ! give but your consent, and I have spoken the 
 truth. 
 
 Do WAG. {aside.) I was not prepared for this I 
 
 Enter Servant, l. h. 
 
 Lord A. That fellow is determined to be the death of 
 mc ! What now ? 
 
 Servant. His Grace the Duke of Landwood recpiests 
 permission to pay his respects to the Countess of Trt siliaii 
 whose carriage he recognised at tha entranc« to 4^e 
 park. 
 
THE DOWAOEB. 
 
 39 
 
 e the death of 
 
 Lady B. What do I hear r 
 
 DoNVAO. {lauyliiny.) 'Tis well — admit his Grace, and I 
 will receive him immediately — with my niece's permis- 
 sion . 
 
 Lady B. Can it be possible? Arc you, indeed, my 
 aunt ? 
 
 All. Your aunt! 
 
 Loan A. I thought as much. 
 
 Do WAG. Ay, Louisa, your old formal frump of an 
 aunt. 
 
 Lady B. Oh, pardon I pardon ! Indeed, you took uh 
 by surprise ! 
 
 DoWAO. In future, have nothing to conceal, and sur- 
 prises will never be dangerous. But I have been almost 
 as much to blame as yoursflf, and am afraid tliat I 
 have somewhat compromised the venerabK- nanie of 
 Tresilian. 
 
 Loud A. You see, madam, you had better consent to 
 chanfjfe it. 
 
 DowAO. {smilmg.) Ah, not quite so fast. 
 
 Lord A. One camiot resolve too (piickly to bo 
 happy. 
 
 DowAO. There is such a thing as beinjjf too pre- 
 cipitate. 
 
 KuEJ). (l. c.) That was my fault. 
 
 Maug. (r.) It Avas a good fault, after all. It proved 
 vour ardour. 
 
 « 
 
 Loud A. And there is such a thing as being too punc- 
 tilious. 
 
 Edgar, (l.) That was my error. 
 
 Ladv B. It was an error on the right side. It marked 
 your delicacy. 
 
 DowAG. The groat secret is to avoid extremes, and 
 phcjsc the right moment to urge your claim. 
 
 Lord A. And that is now. Take my hand — and so the 
 comedy ends. 
 
 DowAG. Well, I believe it wdl be but poetical justice. 
 There it is. I should have known that the play must 
 end so. You see I cannot quite throw off my theatrical 
 jargon. I have been playing a part so long, that I begin 
 
I"! II 
 
 40 
 
 THE DOWAOSB. 
 
 i/* fnncy myself really an actress, ambitious only of you? 
 applauHe. i i^ 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, l^>^ 
 
 To-day, my friends hero {io the actors.) have conp^; 
 pclh^d the Dowager to play the actress — with the kin li.^ 
 saiK'tion of my friends here, {to the audience.) to-morrow ir^ 
 thu actress will play 
 
 "The Dowager." 
 
 II 
 
 (fartnin. 
 
 Dowager. 
 Sir Frederick. 
 Margaret. 
 
 Lord Alfred. 
 
 Ladt Bloomer. 
 
 Edoai. 
 
 ir 
 
 V. 
 
 J . 
 
THE MINOR DRAMA. 
 Na XXX II. 
 
 AVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 IN TWO A CT t. 
 
 Bloomer. |bV CHARLES DANCE. ESQ. 
 Edoab. 
 
 )0 TUB STAGS BIJSINBSO, CASTS OF CHARACTIU 
 C06TUMES, U£LATIVB I'OSITIONS, BTO. 
 
 NEW V R K : 
 
 «AMUEr, F-RENCH, 
 122 Namau Strikt (Up Staibi., 
 
'«ll. 
 
 Il'f 
 
 h 
 
 OAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Ro^ml Olpmpie, Park, IMt. Olifm/iU. 
 
 idmiral KiHjr»lon...Mr.W.FHrx*n. Mr (iilbArl. Mr. Nirkin 
 
 Lteut. King$toii R.r. •' C MalthuWC " Walcot. " Wakut 
 
 Short • Wyinnn. " Ilatnilton. " Vnnor;t. 
 
 DfHni§ " IlruUKliam. " K»»*ar.l. 
 
 Mr$. Pontiftt Mri. Orf(fcr. Mrs. Gill>flrt. IIr«. Tuthm 
 
 liMf Mitrtxmtr Mod. Vnstria. Mim Kom 'rdliin. Mi»t C'Urk 
 
 COSTUMES* 
 
 ADMIRAI, KI^'(•^4T(>N — IfnniUninn modern and nnval iiniruria, epsaVtUi^ 
 
 IT'ilil itrtpn of l:irn ilnwii llin Iroiunr*. 
 \ir:i!TKNANTKIM(JSr<)N. II. N — Unn.liomc mo.Jnrn nnvM uniforia kt. 
 dllUiCT— (Lniiitlord uf tin* Foiiiitiiiii, all'itrliiKMiili ]— liluck cual aad triN 
 
 flu'iirrd cut vtilvet-waiilcnul, wiiitn iipckrrcliicf, piiiiipN. 
 DKN'NIH — (Wailnr at ditln.)— W'hitn trommrn, liulF wuixicoaC, Itlua »frl|>' airi 
 
 tailod jnckot, wliita ueckerclunl'.— Aflur llio lint tcene, be wrara a black avn 
 
 iiiiil loiif.'-tndcd rout. 
 MIIH. I*(>\ TirKX.— A piirn ftatin polisii«>, lace cap and lappcla. 
 MISS MUHTIMEK— A w bito tuuidiu peluaa over a blue alip, blue flowers .■ ' 
 
 EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
 
 R, rapiiiid Rinht: L. LcfH R. D. RifthC Door; L. P. Left Do 
 fi E. Second Ent-aiicc; U. E. Upptr Entrance; M. D. Middle D<m\ 
 
 RELATIVE rOSI^'IONS. 
 
 R. inr^auH kighl; L. L^t; C. Centre; O. C. Right of Cemtrt I 
 Lgt vf CcHtrt. 
 
NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS 
 
 iniruria, epaaUtUiJ 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall at the Fountain Inn at Portsmouth. 
 
 OiNNis discovered asleep in a chair, l., with a napkin ^a 
 
 ?us hand. 
 
 Den. \ Talking in his sleep.] Thank you, Captain! ihauk 
 vou ! Ciotl bless your honour, and thank you a thousand 
 lifneo ! Upon my conscience, the anny's a fool to the navy 
 for generosity ! [After a pause.] Och, Colonel, and is all 
 this money for me t By my soul, the navy must knock 
 unrler to the army for {generosity, any way. [Bell, l. — 
 Waking.] What bell is that] [Bell] Oh, no huiry ; it's 
 only the travellers* roum. [Sleeps. 
 
 Enter Short, l., returning from market. 
 
 SJiort. How plaguy dear the fish is, ' ^ be sure ! Thai 
 won't do. While the fishmongers make mo pay such ras- 
 cally prices, I shall never be able to charge my cusioinors 
 above twice what I give! there's some infernal roguery 
 somewhere. \Secing Dennis.] Well, I'm sure ! this it 
 a proity time of day to go to sleep ! I'll indugo \iim with 
 an Irish wake. [(Joes close to hiin, and bawls in his ear.] 
 Dennis ! 
 
 Den. Coming. [Starts up and nearly hnnrhs Short 
 rWn.j Och! murder ! roaster dear ! '\» it yuu called out 
 Dennis 1 
 
 S/iort, (l.) It was. But you have nearly killed mo. 
 
 ])rn. (n.) Sure, I'm sorry it's asleep I was ; I wasquilo 
 bk>rkd up. 
 
 Sliort. And I was almost knocked down. 
 
 J>en. Sur#, I didn't go to do it. 
 
 Hhurt Huw did you come to do it ? 
 
PPT 
 
 i^ 
 
 NAVAL ENGAOKMENTS. 
 
 [Ac», 
 
 Den. There's not a jury in England that wouldn't saJ 
 my pushing you was accidental death. Arn't you my ma 
 ter ? and wouldn't my runnning against you be runniJ 
 against my own interest ? 
 
 Short. But what business had you to be asleep at elevetl 
 o'clock in the morning ? or, indeed, what business has J 
 waiter ever to go to sleep ? 
 
 Den. Ah ! master, now, don't be hard upon me. Surtj 
 the young gentlemen that dined up stairs yesterday, neve{ 
 went homo to their mammies till seven this morning, audi 
 it's the devil a bit (^ a. bed I've had. 
 
 Short. You doi» t say so ! did they all stay till seven t 
 
 Den. They did, sir. 
 
 Short. And were they drinking all the time ? 
 
 Den. They were, sir. 
 
 Short. Why, it was enough to make 'em all ill. 
 
 Den, You may say that, sir. 
 
 Short. A pretty penny it will cost their poor parents. 
 
 Den. It's to be hoped they're not very poor parents, sir. I 
 
 Short. Don't you joke upon such a subject, Dennis. I'm 
 quite shocked to hear of such young men drinking 8o| 
 much — without eating. 
 
 Den. Sure they'd the devil's own supper at two, sir. 
 
 Short. I'm glad of that, for so much drinking, without] 
 eating is bad lor every body. Did they order any break- 
 fast before they went ? 
 
 Den. Some coffee, sir. 
 
 Short. It would hare been belter for all parties if tlwvl 
 }tad had a complete breakfast; however, cnarge it as a 
 breakfast, and it may serve as a warnrng to them. Young 
 men who drink hard over night arc sure to pay for it iti] 
 the morning. 
 
 Den. Very truf. sir. Are you q«tt« sure I iHdn't hurt I 
 you, sir? 
 
 Short. Vw quit© sure you did. Has there been any 
 arrival while I've been out] 
 
 Den. Ve8» sure, sir. There's ould \dmiral Kingston ii 
 Nd. 8. 
 
 Shor\ Any body with him 1 
 
 Den. A young lady, sir. 
 
 Short \V'hal is she \ 
 
 Den. Whut is she i fiiith, she's mighty pretty 
 
bcttc II] 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 i didn't hurt 
 
 Short. I mean, who is she ? 
 
 Den. \Vho she is 1 that I don't know, fir. 
 
 Short. Have they ordered any thing ] 
 
 Den. They have, sir. 
 
 Short. What? 
 
 Den. A pair of horses, sir. 
 
 Short. [Laughing.] A pair of hoi-aes ? Did they order 
 fny thnig to eat ? 
 
 Den. Nothing but the horses, sir. 
 
 Short, Any body else come 1 
 
 Den. Yes, sir ; there's a young naval officer in No 14. 
 
 Short. Any body with him ? 
 
 Den. A middle-aged female ; supposed to be his mother 
 
 Short. What's his name? 
 
 Den. I don't know, sir. 
 
 Short. Has he ordered anything? 
 
 Den. Ho b.aa, sir. 
 
 Short. At last — what is it ? 
 
 Din. Ho ordered me to hold my tongue when I asked— 
 
 Short. Is your tongue any thing to eat, pray ? 
 
 Den. It's to be hoped not, sir; for I bit it once, and I 
 liidn't like it. 
 
 Short. Well, 1 can make nothing of you, so I shall go 
 Iniul sro what I can make of them. The Admiral is an old 
 Iciistoiner, and he must do as he likes ; but the younster 
 hliall cat something, whether he's hungry or not. 
 
 Den. Tiittt's right, master; make him eat something, if 
 hi s only just that you may put down upon paper that he 
 
 Short. 1 know what I'm *<x/«ift, Dennis. 
 
 Den. The divil a doubt of it, sir. You're not such a 
 1. nl !»s you look. 
 
 Short. Whereas, yoo, on the contra!' y, don't look such 
 a fool as you are. [Going. 
 
 Den. r*ong life to your gentility, master; for you're 
 r.ever behindhand at returning a compliment. 
 
 [ Exeunt at apposite tides. 
 
 Scene II. — A Ream in the same, ir/M c, doors, and doors 
 R. and L. 2 E., Mrs. Col. Puntifex amd Litir. King- 
 ion discovered ; the former at work on st-tUf, v., tmuil 
 v>rk-fahlc and /casket be/ore kcr • the latfcr b, c. f icing 
 
ll 
 
 I:. 
 
 I 
 
 
 II 
 
 1 ,' 
 
 , , , • . 
 
 NAVAL ENGAOEMEXTS. 
 
 •Ar.rl 
 
 the audience, with his legs across a chair, his hanik\ 
 crossed on the hack of it, and his chin resting on his hands. 
 The room isfurnished with ronnd table, R., covered witk\ 
 toriting matvi ial St books, portfolio of jyrints, vase ofjlou:] 
 ers, S^v. ; ^ffa, L., and chairs, covered with chintz furniA 
 ture ; the settee and two chairs on which Mus. PontifexI 
 and the Lieutenant are seated must be set in front o, 
 the second grooves, so that the third scene may close up\ 
 leaving them on the stage, with the tide doors as used uj 
 this scene, and painted to match the third, 
 
 Mrs. P. (c.) A penny for your thoughts, Kingston, dear. | 
 
 Lieut. K. (r. c.) They're not worth it. 
 
 Mis. P. Then you ought to bo ashamed of yourself, for] 
 you can't have been thinking of me. 
 
 Lieut., K. Indeed I was. [Rises and walks restlessly to\ 
 andfro.[ I never did itnow any thing so worrying, so! 
 teasing, so perplexing i:i my life. [Resumes his position. 
 
 Mrs. P. As /am ? 
 
 Lieut K. No, no ! not yo?j. 
 
 Mrs. P. A penny for your thoughts woir, Kingston dear 
 
 Lieut, K. ^ly dear Mrs. Pontifcx, I assure you, they are 
 not worth it. 
 
 Mrs. P. Now, Kingston dear, why do you call mo Mrs, 
 Pontifi.'X 1 It seems yvry formal to a woman whom you 
 are al)out to many. When the late Col. Pontifex — then 
 only Captain Pontifcx — was making his addresses to me 
 he always called me Selina. 
 
 Lieut. K. And Vll call you Selina if you wish it. 
 
 .V/.. P. Now, Kingston dear, that's very kind of you 
 — very. You're not annoyed with me for alluding to poor 
 dear Colonel Pontifcx, are you ? 
 
 Lieut. K. Who I I ? Oh ! by no means ; [Relapsing in- 
 to ihought.\ died at Gibraltar about three years since. 
 
 Mrs. P. [Rising, and coming to him.] Pm quite aware 
 of that, — but what on earth makes you mention it just 
 I1-7W, Kingston dear 1 
 
 Lieut. K. [Rising.] I beg your pardon — I was thinking 
 uloud. The fact is that my head is full of my approachini; 
 'i»ierview with my futiier, and 1 was wondering hew 1»« 
 w*uld receive — . 
 
 Mrs. P. How he would rcce've you I 
 
CKE II J 
 
 NAVAL KXOAGK.MENTS. 
 
 d 
 
 1} Lleiie. K. N<», no ! I have no fear about that. 
 ll Mrr. P. How he would receive 7ne, then ] 
 
 fjinif. K. No, not exactly you. 
 
 Mrx. P. Kingston dear, there's a mystery ; I nave 
 joiif'ht there was for some time past, and now I'm sure 
 
 it ; so don't attempt to deny it, but give me an expla- 
 
 ition, and a chair. 
 
 liifut. K. I beg you a thousand pardons. 
 [Gives her a chair ^ l. c, they *iV— Mrs. P. maJcea her- 
 self up to listen. — Lieut. K. relapses into thought. 
 
 Mrs. P. (r. c.) [After a pause.] Well — 
 
 Lifut, K. (l. c.) Are you speaking to mo ? 
 
 Mrs. P. Oh ! Yes, I was speaking to you, and I should 
 
 ink you very well knew what about; however, to pre' 
 Lilt the possibility of mistake, I'll tell you again. There 
 
 evidently some uneasiness in your mind about meeting 
 roiir father. You have always told me that you lived and 
 lilted with him on the best of terms, and therefore I am 
 xitind to suppose that the uneasiness relates in some way 
 to ine. We are within ten miles of his house, and, as we 
 us in the army, 1 demand an explanation. 
 
 Jjicut. K. Then, Selina, as we say in the navy, you mus* 
 liavft it; but it's very awkward — upon my life it is 
 ' .iifidc] How shall I tell her. [ Aloud. \ Vou know my 
 Ifatlier ? 
 
 Mrs. P. (r.) No, I don't know your father. 
 
 Lievt. K. (l.) No, I know ; but you know what 1 mean. 
 
 Urs. P. Well—go on. 
 
 Lieut. K. My father and I have eve: lived together, ai 
 I have often told you, on the best of terms. 
 
 Mrs. P. Yes. 
 
 Lieut. K. More like brothers, than father and son. 
 
 Mrs. P. Yes. 
 
 Lieut. K. With but one opinion, as it (vore, V ctwoeo u« 
 ipon every subject. . . 
 
 Mrs. P. Yes. 
 
 Lirut. K. No jealouBy — 
 
 Mrs. P. No. 
 
 Ijieui. K. No concealment— 
 
 Mrs P. No. 
 
 Jjieut. K. No mistrust — 
 
 Mr*. P. No. 
 
 
lU 
 
 NAVAL KNuAOKMKNTS. 
 
 (Anl 
 
 !5' 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] Confound her monosyllableg, 
 tlK'sn't lielp mo out in the least. [Alovd.] You have 
 idoji liow curiously w«ll we agreed. 
 
 Mr^. P. I ought to have a very good idea of it, fo> f] 
 repeat it often enough. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside \ It's of no use, I must bring it 
 snmt'how. [i4/oi*r/.] It went even to this extent — we hi 
 hut one opinion about marriage. 
 
 Mrs. P. And that was — 
 
 Lieut. K. That it was a point on which every per 
 had a riglit to please himself, without reference to the opj 
 ion of relation or friend. This was the very last topic wj 
 discussed two yeors ago, when I left England for Gibr 
 tar, where I had the happiness of becoming acquaint* 
 with you. Now, considering that I was just five-anii 
 twenty, and an only son, and that my father was a widowei 
 of five-and-fifty, with a largo fortune, 1 think our sena 
 ments argue considorable liberality on both sides. 
 
 Mrs. P. Well! I think they do, Kingston dear; aa 
 such being the case, there can bo no doubt that your fij 
 tlier will cheerfully consent to our marriage. 
 
 Lieut. K. No — exactly — but — 
 
 Mrs. P. But what 1 You're getting mysterious again 
 
 Lieut. K. Why, the truth is, that in some cases it is poi 
 siblo for people lo agree to well; and in giving each otii 
 a carte hlanrhe upon the subject of matrimony, there wa 
 one reservation — I can't help it, and so you must pardon m 
 — wo entered into an engagement that neither of us wa 
 to marry a woman of an ago unsuitable to his own ; tlii^ 
 little thinking into whose delightful society 1 was goingi 
 he thrown, 1, in a moment of indiscretion, ''greed to; and 
 if either broke the engagement, wo agreed 
 
 Mrs. P. You agreed to quarrel, I suppose 1 
 
 Lieut. K. Not exactly, but it i* awkward — isn't it ? 
 
 Mrs. P. I don't know that. Some people are moT 
 reasonable than others. / see nothing so very unsuitabli 
 \r. our ages. 
 
 Lieut. K. Nor I. — In short, T never thought about it. 
 
 Mrs. P. I nm not a giddy girl, to bo sure. 
 
 Lieut. K. No, t/iat you're not. 
 
 fUrs. P. Nor are you a decrepit fM man. 
 
 a€ut K. CertMinly n«»l ; and so if youMl put on you^ 
 
 I 
 
BCHC II.] 
 
 NA7AL EXGAGEMENTP. 
 
 11 
 
 )nnet, we'll order a chaise, be off at once to my dad's, 
 liid know tlie wfirst of it. 
 
 Mrs. P You're quite right, Kingston dear, any thing if 
 »citer than suspense. You always like to know the worst 
 )f a thing, that's the best of it. [ Exit c. d. 
 
 Lieut. K. Yes, we'll be off to my dad's, tell our story, 
 nrow ourselves upon his generosity — 
 
 Enter Short, l. s. e. 
 
 isk for his consent, and — [meeting Short] who the devil 
 ue you ? 
 
 s'/tort. Short, sir; master of this inn. 
 
 Lieut. K. Short 1 why you haven't been here long, Short 1 
 
 Short. No, sir; short of a twelvemonth. 
 
 Lieut. K. I thought 1 leniembered that I didn't recol 
 lect you. 
 
 slnrt. Would you please to take any thing, sir? 
 
 Lirut. K. Yes ! 1 am going to take myself off direi ily 
 
 Short. Then I should recommend a nice mutton cotelel 
 nr. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Impatiently.] Mutton devil! 
 
 Short. .As you please, sir, — bot devils are more con • 
 Imctily tdken for supper ; a nice mutton cotelet I shouV i 
 leav inr i/ou, and a broiled partridge for the lady. 
 
 Lieut. K. I haveu't time to wait. 
 
 Short. Then, sir, decidedly some cold chicken ar»d 
 llDtifTue. 
 
 Lient. K. My good frieiid, I'm not well. 
 
 Short. Oh ! I beg your pardon, sir. Y'ou wish for some 
 ifoup. 
 
 Lieut. K. I don't wish for any such thing. I am well 
 j enough in health, but I am fatigued — and bothered^ and 
 !()\v spirited. 
 
 Short. If I mis^ht suggest, sir, I should say there is no- 
 thin i; belter than a sandwich, and a couple of glasses of 
 clianjpagne, for any any one who is rather low. 
 
 I.ieu.. K, Then, my friend, as you seem rather hic, you 
 had bettor swallow them yourself. Order me a chai.so, 
 and n pair of horses. 
 
 Short. VV^here for, sir ? 
 
 Lieut. K. \ want to go about ten miles on the London 
 road; — to Admiral Kingston's, in bhort, I dare wiy jr)i| 
 li now it. 
 
w 
 
 12 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 !> • 
 
 , > Jii 
 
 I 11^ 
 
 ■Mi 
 
 m 
 
 fl' 
 
 I 
 
 t i" 
 
 " i 
 
 'I 
 
 [Ami 
 
 SJfort. Oil, yes! I know it, sir. Do i/ou know nim] 
 
 Lieut. K. I ou«;lit — lie's my father. 
 
 Short. You don't say ho, sir? then, sir, to see your (a. 
 ther, you needn't go farther, for your father is nearer than 
 yoa think foi 
 
 Lieut. K. What! is he in Portsmouth, tliis morning? 
 
 Short. He's in tliis very house. 
 
 Lieut. K, My father in this very house t Why, I haven't 
 «cen him for these two years. You have absolutely given 
 me a palpitation in the heart. 
 
 Short. Old sherry, sir, is considered an excellent thing 
 ♦or that. 
 
 Lieut. K. Now don't bother mo about old sherry, but 
 
 let*' the way to my father's apartment Or stay, tell me 
 
 the number of it. 
 
 Short. No. 8, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. Now, stand clear of the gangway, and I'll 
 ioon find it. [Fushet him aside, and exit, l. 
 
 Short. Let mo see — for 1 suspect that this encounter 
 will turn out luckily for mo. I'hey were all four going in 
 the Admiral's; — good I They can't all four go in one 
 chaise;— good I The Admiral and his son can't part the 
 moment they meet; — good! and the two ladies can't go 
 in one chaise, and leave the two gentlemen to go in the 
 other; — good! it follows, therefore, that they must ail 
 stop here and order a dinner ; — good ! very good ! 
 
 Scene III. — Another Room in the same — the Admiral's 
 two doors injlat, r. and l. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Openins^ l. d. p., and rushing in.] My den'- 
 father ! I am delighted to find — [ Stops and looks ahout.] No 
 one hero ? What an ass that landlord is ! — [Rushes ^ut 
 again, r. d. f.j 
 
 Enter, at another door, r., Admiral Kingston. 
 
 Adm. It's time wo were off ; or else that youngster will 
 be at home before me — [Goes to door of inner Roomj r. 2 
 t.f and knocks.] Mary, my dear ! Mary 1 
 
 Miss M. [ Within.] Coming, grandpapa. 
 
 Adm. [Comini^ away from the door. \ Psha ! I wish the 
 little baggage vir >uld 'eave off thaf silly custom of calling 
 ire grandjmpa. 
 
i^nt Illj 
 
 NAVAu E.\t.Ar.E.MKNr8. 
 
 .9 
 
 Enter Miss Mortimer, r. 8. e. 
 
 Miss. M. Here I am, grandpapa — What do you wantt 
 
 Adm. Why, my dear, in the first place, I want you to 
 loave off calling mo grandpapa ; now that we are going to 
 be man and wife. 
 
 Misa M. (r.) I'll try, but I think it will be very diffi- 
 cult ; [ have been used to it so long. You know, you 
 t:iu{T|it me to call you so yourself, when I was a little girl, 
 and Hied to sit upon your knee. 
 
 A(hn. (l.) That's very true, my dear; but that was 
 twelve or fourteen years ago, and it was a joke. 1 have 
 changed my opinion since, and now 1 think it's no joko. 
 
 Miss M. Well, just as you like, grand 1 mean, just 
 
 as you like, sir. 
 
 Adm. No, I don't like "sir," neither. * 
 
 Miss M. What then ? 
 
 Adm. Why, to say the truth, there is a little awkward- 
 ness about it. My christian name, as you know, is Theo- 
 dore ; but as there is rather more than the usual difference 
 between our ages, perhaps that would sound a little ro- 
 mantic. — Suppose you call mo Admiral ? 
 
 Miss M. 1 shall like that better than any thing, for I 
 hope you don't think that I am going to marry you, be» 
 cause you're rich. 
 
 Adm. [Taking /ler hand.] Delightful little creature ! 1 
 may flatter myself, then, that you are not induced to con- 
 sent to this step for the sake of my money / 
 
 Miss ilf. Oh ! dear, no ! 
 
 Adm. [Aside.] Frank, confiding soul ! — 1 can't deny 
 myse'f the luxury of hearing a fiirlher confession. [Aloud.] 
 yt)u marry me, then, my dear Mary, for my — 
 
 ]\liss M. For your rank, to bo Bure. 
 
 Adm. [Letting of go her, and anidc] Oh! confound tha 
 rank. 
 
 Miss M. You remember that I used to jead of Duncan, 
 Nelson, ll(»we, and Jarvis, until I always told papa that I 
 would marry an admiral; though, to be sure, I little thought 
 my words would ever com? true. 
 
 Adm. Well, my love, we won't pursue that subject anji 
 farther just nt present. My son has landed here this morn- 
 ing, fi'oir liJibrallar ; I have missed him somehow., and I 
 
i 
 
 14 
 
 NAVAL E.XiAUKMhN'lfl. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 stippose he lius taken a chaise, and gone post-liaste hoirii 
 tu 8ee tno. Your father has given me leave to take you 
 over, and introduce you to him ; so I have ordered hunei 
 to my carriage, and I want you to be ready in five minute^ 
 Miss M, 1 won't be two. I haven't seen my old play, 
 follow, Tommy Kingston, since he first went to sea,-^a 
 little bit of a midshipman. 
 
 Adm. He's only a lieutenant, now. 
 
 Miss M. I don't care a straw about his rank ; I like 
 him for himself. 
 
 Adm. [Aside.] I would change ranks with the young 
 dog, to have her say that of me. f^t/ouJ.] You must bear 
 in mind, my dear, that you and lorn are not of an age t« 
 bi? playfellows now. 
 
 Mixs M. Aren't we 1 Oh, la ! I forgot I was going tc 
 be his mother. 
 
 Adm. And there is another thing that I wish to mention 
 to you. I have a particular reason for not letting my son, 
 Lieutenant Kingston, see you, until after I liave had soino 
 conversation with him. 
 
 Miis M. La! grand — sir! — admiral! how mysterioui 
 you aic. If thoro's a secret, do tell it mo. 
 
 Adm. No, no, there's no great secret about it; only— < 
 come now, put on your things. 
 
 Miss M. I won't go till you tell mo what all this means 
 If I'm to be Mrs. Admiral Kingston, I ought to know every 
 thing that you know. 
 
 Adtn. Well, well ! you are to be Mrs. Admiral Kingston ; 
 and you ihall know — but it's rtjally nothing. I only want 
 to see my son first, to inform him of my intended mar- 
 riage — to prepare him for it — to break it to him, as it 
 were. 
 
 Miss M. Break it to him? what, do you think it will 
 ohock him ? 
 
 Adm. Shock him ! Oh, no ! 
 
 Miss M. Wilat then ] 
 
 Adm. Why, he might object to it. 
 
 Miss M. Has he any right to object to it ? 
 
 Adm. Ccrtamly not : that is, — not any natural right. 
 
 Mi»s M Well, then, it wouldn't signify. 
 
 Adm. \ Aloud.] The Uttlo baggage has got the weather 
 gago of rue. and she won't give nio a chance. \.\louiL\ I 
 
 Sitm. 
 
NAVAL KNGAGEMENTi. 
 
 15 
 
 Hoti't say that it wouUl sij^nify ; but he is my son, and car/t 
 you ijjKlerslatul that 1 would not willingly hurt his feelings. 
 
 Mi.f.i ^f. I don't understand any tljing about it, sir; do 
 v:ii expect that iio will want to marry mo himself? 
 r A'///». Want to marry you ? Oh ! I've no fear of that. 
 
 Mixs M. Well, he rnii^ht, you know ; — there's no know- 
 
 int?. 
 Ailm. \.'Uiilc.] E<rad ! it's possible that he might ; and 
 
 .hat's another reason for my seeing him first. 
 
 Miss M. I shall find out what all this means, some day 
 or other. You tell mo that you are as anxious as pos- 
 sihle to see your son, and yet you seem so fidgety at the 
 idea of seeing him, that you don't know what to do. 
 
 Adin. I fidgety at the idea of seeing my own son ? Come, 
 I like that ! 
 
 Ms,' M. (R.) Jnue..d you do, Admiral; fidgety and 
 nervous to a degree. 
 
 Enter Dennis, i.. f. 
 
 Adm. (c.) 1. nervous? and about meetmg Tom 1 that'i 
 rripital — that really is capital ! 
 
 Den. (l.) Lieutenant Kingston, sir, R.N. 
 
 Adm. [Jumping round.] Wlio do you say, sir? 
 
 Miss M. I say. Admiral — '• /nervous? 1 fidgety ?" 
 
 Jidm. Be quiet one moment, there's a good girl. [ To 
 Dfvnis.j What is it you say ? 
 
 Dvn. Lieutenant Kingston, sir, R.N., has been looking 
 for your honour all over the house. 
 
 Adm. Ho hasn't been hero ? 
 
 Dm. I beg your pardon, sir ; ho was hero a little ago, 
 and as he told mo there was nobody in the room, I thought 
 I'd come in and let you know that he couldn't find you. 
 
 Adm. Where is he now? 
 
 Den, Faith, sir! he's every whore at the same lime, for 
 he doesn't stop more than two minutes in one place. 
 
 Adm. Now, Mary, my love ! oblige mo by retiring to 
 your own room till I call you. 
 
 [Leading her towards the door. 
 
 Mist M, You shall own something or other to me bo- 
 lore I go, that I'm determined — aren't you nervous 1 
 
 Adm. Well, well ! a little — now, go in. 
 
 .V//JT M. Arcn'l you fidgety 1 
 
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 16 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 rAcTlHsccNK I 
 
 A(Jm, The least thing in life. There— go and — 
 
 Miss M. Isn't there a mystery 1 
 
 Adm. Yes, there ia Now pray go in. 
 
 Miss M. I kneio there was a mystery. 
 
 [Exit to room, r. b. b. 
 
 Adm. Waiter! — whatever your name is, — go in. 
 
 Den. Dennis, sir ! my name is Dennis. 
 
 Adm. Well, Dennis with all my heart — 
 
 Den. Oh ! bless you, sir, that's not a bit like it. Dennii 
 Magrath is my name ! 
 
 Adm. The devil take your name. 
 
 Den, The devil take my name, sir? Och, never, sir! 
 The devil's not enough of a gentleman to be allowed to 
 lake the name of Magrath ; though there's none of the 
 Magraths that isn't universally allowed to have a bit of the 
 devil in them. 
 
 Adm. Now, sir, hold your tongue, and listen to my or* 
 iers. 
 
 Den. To be sure, sir. 
 
 Adm. The young gentleman you spoke of, is my son. 
 
 Den. Your son 1 then you're his father \ 
 
 Adm. Do keep silence — 1 don't wish to see him here ; I 
 mean, not in this room. Go you, therefore, and find him 
 and tell him that I am not yet come back. 
 
 Den. May-be he won't believe me, sir; because he's so 
 mighty eager to see you. Hadn't I better go tell him that 
 you told me yourself, you wasn't here 1 
 
 Adm. Take your own way, but get him to his room, and 
 I'll follow him there. 
 
 Den. Consider the thing done, sir. [Exit, l. f. 
 
 Adm. It is a devilish hard case, that a man is to live to 
 the age of five-and-fifty with a fair reputation for courage, 
 and then to be, ail on a sudden, half afraid of meeting his 
 own son. [Exit, l. f. 
 
 [Miss Mortimer opens the door, r. s. e., arid, peeps out. 
 
 Miss M. It is astonishing how curious women are! 
 Here am I peeping out^ and I have no reason to give fot 
 doing so half as strong as that I was desired not. The 
 Admiral has sailed, and the coast is clear — there's no en- 
 emy's cruiser in sight, and I shall venture out. [Goes to 
 door, I., v., and listens.] I hear no one, — I'll open the dooi 
 [Opens 'it gently.] Gracious! there's somebody cciniiug 
 [Attempts to close the door, which Lieut. K. pulls open. 
 
Scene III.j 
 
 NAVAL EKGAGEMENTS. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Entering, l,] Don't shut the door, old gen- 
 Itleman ! I've found you at last — a lady ! 
 
 Miss J\f. (k.) a stranger! \ Turning away and aside.] 
 I remember him, though he doesn't remember me ; but 1 
 musn't appear to know him, or the Admiral will be angiy 
 
 Lieut. K. I beg you pardon-r-I fear you must have 
 thought me very rude, but 1 took you for Admiral Kings- 
 ton. 
 
 Miss M. It is the first time I have been so much hon- 
 oured, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. I mean, I took this for Admiral Kingston's 
 room. 
 
 Miss M. You were quite right, sir. He will return 
 immediately. I am about to retire, and if you will take a 
 chair, I have no doubt you will see him in five minutes. 
 
 Lieut. K. Nay, madam ! rather allow me to retire 1 I 
 couldn't think of causing you to leave your — to leave his 
 —to leave this room. {Kside.) Who the deuce can she be ? 
 
 Miss M. \Going.] I have only one word more to say, 
 sir; you will particularly oblige me, by not mentioning 
 to the Admiral that you have seen me. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] What on earth does that mean? 
 [Ahud.] One moment, ma'am, pray. Have I the honour 
 of addressing a relation of Admiral Kingston 1 
 
 Miss M. Not exactly, sir ! but 1 think / have. 
 
 Lieut. K' You have the advantage of me. 
 
 Miss M. ' Curtesy ing.] And I mean to keep it. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] How provoking she is. [Aloud.] 
 Excuse me, but you seem aware that I am the Admiral's 
 son ; you will therefore wonder at my natural curiosity 
 upon a subjeq,t which — in short — Madam — Is my father 
 married. 
 
 Miss M. Not that I am aware of, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] That's some relief. [j4/oit<Z.] Then 
 pardon my asking, are you here with him ? 
 
 Miis M. How can I be, when he is absent? 
 
 Lieut. K No — but I mean — is he here with you I 
 
 Miss M. The same answer applies. 
 
 Lieut. K There is some mystery. 
 
 Miss M. There is, indeed, 
 
 Lieut. K You own it? 
 
 Miss M And the Admiral owns it. 
 
 I: 
 
8 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Aw 
 
 Lieut, K. It must and shall bo cleared up. 
 
 Miss M. Will you promise me that 1 
 
 Lieut K. I will. 
 
 Miss M. Then you are a very delightful young maul 
 that I will say. [Going towards the door of her room, r.J 
 
 Lieut. K. And you're a most extraordinary young wo 
 man — that I must say. 
 
 Miss M. And so ends the first interview between Lieu 
 tenant Thomas Kingston, R. N., — 
 
 Lieut. K. [Eagerly.] And? 
 
 Miss M. [Curtesy ing.] His most obedient seiTant. 
 
 [Exit to room, r. s. e. 
 
 Lieut. K. A young lady in my father's apartments, whcl 
 knows him and knows me, but whom I don'w know, aTidi 
 who declines to tell me who she is ! I suspect the old! 
 gentleman is running a little wild. [ Takes a chair.] Well! 
 when one can't understand a thing, the best way is to siti 
 down quitely [Sits] and wait patiently for an explanation,! 
 [Jumping vp.] I can't stop here by myself! 
 
 [Exit, L. D. p. 
 
 Scene IV. — As 2nd. — The Lieutenant's Apartments^ at 
 
 before. 
 
 Adm. [Knocking without, and calling, l.] Ship ahoy! 
 Tom, my boy, where are you? [Entering.] Tom, you 
 rascal, where are you, I say ? 
 
 3Irs. P. [From her room, c.J Is that you, Kingston 
 dear? 
 
 Adm. [Starting.] Wlio the devil can that be ? 
 
 Mrs. P. [Entering, and speaking as she enters, c] I say, 
 is that you, Kingston dear? [Starts on meeting Admiral.] 
 Bless me ! 
 
 Adm. (l.) I certainly am Kingston, ma'am ; but I am 
 not so fortunate as to be dear to you, that I know Qf ! 
 
 Mrs. P. (r.) I beg your pardon, sir — 
 
 Adm. Don't apologise, ma'am, pray. [Aside.] She's a 
 very nice-looking woman ! 
 
 Mrs. P. I presume you are looking for Mr. Kingston? 
 
 Adm. Just so, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. P. Is ther^ any thing I can do for you when he 
 returns ? 
 
 Adm. You're very kind, ma'am. My j iincipal b-jsi- 
 Kcss with him is to embrace liim. 
 
 4S#-' 
 
crwK IV.] 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS 
 
 19 
 
 M-s. P. Sir ! 
 
 Adm. Don't b« alarmed, ma'am — I'm his father. 
 M;*. P. [Aside.] The Admiral ! What a nice-looking 
 an ! [Ahud.] You are aware, sir, that I had r.ot the 
 lonour of knowing you. Mr. Kingston will be hero, I 
 iarc any, in two ov three minutes. 
 Adm. I was rightly directed, then ; and these are hu 
 partments? 
 
 Mrs. P. If they were not, sir, 1 should not be here. 
 Adm. Indeed ! [^*?cZc.J That's very extraordinary ! 
 Mrs. P. [i4*j<fc.] I've made a foolish speech. 
 Adm. You will excuse the natural anxiety of a fathei ; 
 have not seen my son for two years, and after what you 
 lave said, it behoves me to ask a question which I trust 
 ■ou will see the propriety of answering candidly — are you 
 is wife 1 
 
 Mrs. P. No sir, I am not. 
 Adtn. Then, ma'am, I veiy much fear that you must 
 
 be 
 
 ^fra. P. [Interrupting 7iim, and curtest/ing.] Nothing of 
 the kind, sir, I assure you. 
 Adm. Will you oblige me by telling me who you are 1 
 Mrs. P. (r.) You must excuse me ? I think 1 hear your 
 son reluming. I really must beg to retire, although I re- 
 gret to own that appearance, at this particular moment, 
 is against me. I can't exactly explain why I can't explain, 
 but when you see your son, he will explain every thing. 
 
 [Curtfsi/s, and re-enters room^ c. 
 Adtn. (l.) Yes, ma'am, and <i/*-appearance at this par- 
 ticular moment is against you, too. A lady in my son's 
 apartments who refuses to tell me who she is ! and who 
 says if they were not his apartments, s/ie shouldn't be 
 here ! I suspect the young gentleman is running a little 
 wild. 
 
 Door opens, l. s, s., and Lieut. K. enters hastily, 
 
 Lieut. K. [Stopping on seeing his father.] What! Ad 
 miral ? 
 
 Adm. What! Tom, my boy! come to my arms, you 
 dog. [Lieut. K. runs to him — they embrace. 
 
 Lieut. K. (l.) And how are you, sir? 
 
 Adm. Hearty as a buck, my boy, thank you; hearty ai 
 
20 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 a buck, fresh as a four year old, and jolly as a sand-boy! 
 How has two years in the Mediterranean agreed wiihl 
 you ] 
 
 Lieut, K. Oh ! very well, sir. 
 
 Adm. So I see — so I see. You're looking famously,! 
 I thought you were gone home, and I should have been 'm 
 after you, if I had not heard accidentally that you were) 
 here. 
 
 Lieut. K. I suspect we have missed one another by be- 
 ing in the same house, sir. 
 
 Adm. Not unlikely, faith. But no matter for that now, 
 I have found you, and by George, I'm as glad as if 1 had I 
 found a large bag of money; — nay, more so; for I don't 
 want money, and I do want my son. [Shaking hands with' 
 him again.] 
 
 Lieut. K. You forget our old compact, sir. I am not 
 your son — we are brotners ! 
 
 Adyn. True, boy, true ; we are indeed, and always were, 
 more like brothers than father and son. No concealment— 
 
 Lieut. K. No restraint— 
 
 Atdrn. No evasion — 
 
 Lieut, if. No black looks-— 
 
 Adm. No disobedience — 
 
 Lieut, K. No harsh commands — 
 
 Adfn. Well, well, we won't compliment one another 
 
 any more. 1 believe we both went upon the right system, 
 
 and we can't do better than stick to it : and so get a chair, 
 
 Lieutenant places chairs.] sit you down, and let us have 
 
 a chat together upon the old principle. 
 
 Lieut. K. (l.) Without saying any thing about father 
 and son, sir, 1 must say I think it was a little curious that 
 any two men of such different ages as you and I are, should 
 have agreed so exactly upon every subject that could be 
 framed. 
 
 Adm. (r.) Well, I think it was. 
 
 Lieut. K, I remember that we both liked the same pur 
 iuits — 
 
 Adm. We did. 
 
 Lieut. K, The same amusements— 
 
 Aam. We did. 
 
 Lieut. K. The same people— 
 
 Adm, We did. 
 
NAVAL EN«AGEMKNTS. 
 
 21 
 
 Jjicut. K. The same things to eat and drink— 
 
 Adm. We did. 
 
 Liicut. K. And, what was more singular still, though 1 
 ^as an only son, and you were a rich widower, we even 
 
 rnjeti upon the subject of marriage. 
 
 \\dm. Eh? 
 
 Lieut' K. Why, we did, sir — didn't we ! 
 
 Adm. Oh ! yes — yes ; I believe we did. 
 
 Lieut. K. Believe we did, sir? Why, wasn't it under- 
 Itood between us, that neither was to make the slightest 
 )bjection, let the other marry whomever he might ? 
 
 Adm. [Aside.] Perhaps he'has forgot the other part or 
 Ihe agreement. [^Zom^.] To be sure it was — to be sure 
 jr was. \ Shaking hands with him, 
 
 Lieut. K. That is — provided — 
 
 Adm. [Letting suddenly go of him^ and aside.] Oh ! 
 {the devil take it ! he has not forgotten it. Can he suspect 1 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] The Admiral seems annoyed — he 
 [(an't have any suspicion, surely. 
 
 [ They both turn aside, and relapse into thought. Af- 
 ter a pause of mutual embarrassment, the Admiral 
 speaks. 
 
 Adm. Tom ! 
 
 Lieut. K. Sir, [Another pause 
 
 Adm. Tom ! — Why don't you go on speaking, Tom ! 
 
 Lieut K. I have nothing more to say sir. [Another pause. 
 
 Adm. Pray, Mr. Tom, what is the meaning of this suU 
 den awkwardness between us % 
 
 Lieut. K. I really can't explain, sir. 
 
 Adm. It never used to be so. 
 
 Lieut. K. That's just what I was thinking, sir. 
 
 Adm. I think it's a great pity. 
 
 Lieut K. So do I, sir. 
 
 Adm. [Aside.] I want to break my marriage tohira,but 
 [ can't yet. Pll tax him about that lady. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] It won't do to talk to him about his 
 marriage while he's in this mood. Pll ask him who his fe« 
 male friend is. 
 
 Adm. [Aloud and sharply.] Tom ! 
 
 Lieut. K. [Same tone.] Sir! 
 
 Adm. I won't bear this any longer. 
 
 Lieut, K. That's right, sir 
 
Iii 
 
 ■I- 
 
 i- 
 
 S'15 
 
 
 22 
 
 NAVAI. ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Aei 
 
 Adm. [Turning his chair ^ and, facing Lticat?^ Sir! 
 paid a visit to your apaitrnents in your absence, and theii 
 1 found a lady— 
 
 Lieut, K. [ Turning his chair and facing Admiral.] 8ir| 
 / paid a visit to your apartments, in your absence an 
 there / found a lady— 
 
 Adm. [Rises.] Sir! that lady refused to tell me wlii 
 hhe was — 
 
 Lieut. K. [Rises.] Sir! that lady refused- to tell 
 who she was— 
 
 Adin. Well, sir ! I shall set you a good example ; yo 
 won't explain and so I will. [Aside.] Now for it. [fiJ 
 suming their seats,] [Aloud.] You alluded just now to ouil 
 old engagement, that either of us were to marry any on^ 
 he pleased. 
 
 Lieut. K. I did, sir. [Aside.] What is he after ? 
 
 Adm. Well ! without further preface, I am going to b«| 
 married. 
 
 Lieut. K, You, sir! 
 
 Adm. Have I your free consent ? 
 
 Lieut. K. Oh, surely, sir; that was the engagement! 
 Provided — 
 
 Adm. Don't be in a hurry: I'm coming to that. I re- 
 member the proviso ; and 1 want you to rele|jse me froral 
 it. I am going to marry a young woman — 
 
 Lieut. K. A young woman ? [Aside,] Surely not the I 
 girl I saw in his room ! — Oh, I see, he has got some scentl 
 of my intention, and this is a pretence to try me. I must! 
 appear to consent. 
 
 Adm. Well? 
 
 Lieut. K. Why, sir, although I had, and indeed have a I 
 very strong opinion upon the subject, I admit there maj; 
 be a case in which particular prejudices ought to be' 
 waived. 
 
 Aim. Spoken like a man of sense. Tom, your voyago ! 
 as improved you every way. [^*j<ie.] That difficulty ia 
 
 ■oon got over. 
 
 Lieut. K. I'm glad you think so, sir. [Hesitatingly.] !'» 
 j^oing to be married, too, sir. 
 Adm. You ? Pooh ! nonsense ! 
 Lieut. K. Fact, sir, on my honour. 
 Adm. Well, with all my heart. 
 
 Who is the girl ? 
 
NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 2S 
 
 ^■eaf.] Sir! I 
 ce, and theii 
 
 dmiral.] Sir| 
 absence 
 
 tell me wn 
 
 Ito tell 
 
 ample ; yn 
 for it. [ni 
 t now toouil 
 rry any one| 
 
 ifter ? 
 going to b«| 
 
 iLieut. K. She is not exactly a girl, sir. 
 
 lAdm. Why, you're not going to many a boy t 
 
 \jjicut. K. No, sir; but it's curious enough — I was jual 
 
 lewing up my courage to ask your consent to my mar- 
 ling a lady some fifteen years older than myself — 
 \Adm. Were you, really! [Aside.] Zounds, he can't 
 
 »an the woman I saw in his room — Oh, no, the young 
 [seal is shamming, just to see what I will say ; but I'll 
 
 sappoint him. [Aloud.\ I quite agree with you, Tom, 
 iat there may be a case in which particular prejudices 
 ight to be waived. 
 
 Lieut. K. Sir, you are liberal to a degree. [Shahng 
 indi with him — aside.] I had no notion he would have 
 iven way so easily. 
 
 Adm. And now, sir, as I have led the van in the way of 
 cplanation, perhaps you'll follow in the wake. Who i« 
 le lady in that room 1 
 
 Lieut. K. That is the lady, sir. 
 
 Adm. The lady ? Why, is there but one lady in the 
 
 mm 
 
 Lieut. K. Only one that I'm going to be manied to. 
 Adm. Come, nonsense, nonsense 1 you're joking. 
 Lieut. K. I assure you, sir, I never was more serious ; 
 [he lady is the widow cf the late Colonel Pontifex, and 
 jillhough, as I said, some fifteen years older than I am, she 
 is a very charming woman, and a most delightful com- 
 anion. We came home in the same packet ; but 1 first 
 et her two years ago at Gibraltar, where she was con- 
 idered the most attractive woman in the garrison. 
 Adm. Very likely, sir ; but the most attractive woman 
 t Gibraltar is sure to be superseded the moment she ar- 
 ives in England. Tom, Tom, you're going to make a 
 oodle of yourself. How often have I seen youngsters on 
 ervice in the colonies commit this folly. They come out 
 fresh from England, and make a joke of every woman 
 they see ;• by degrees they grow more civil to them ; until; 
 at last, they select one from the flock for particular atten- 
 g^^.] 1*11 llion, and because she is the best tht/e, they flatter them- 
 Belves she must be the very best every where, and so marry. 
 
 f They rise, 
 Lieut. K. Well, sir, it can't be helped now ; and so, at 
 rl? I you hare no intention of marrying yourself, I hone yr.u 
 
 ngagement | 
 
 hat. I re- 
 3e me fromi 
 
 ly not the 
 jome scent 
 e. I must 
 
 )ed have a 
 here mav 
 ht to be 
 
 \iT voyage 
 ifficulty ia 
 
 

 24 
 
 NAVAIi 4:N(i.\GUMENTS. 
 
 [h 
 
 Adm. VVlmt do you moan, sir? Didn't I tell you thai 
 wag going to bo married? Didn't you see a young 
 in Tny apartments? 
 
 Litut, K. [Laughing.] My dear sir, you can't mean 
 herl Why, she must be tliirty years younger than y 
 are. 
 
 Adm. And suppose she is? if* there mustbeadifferei 
 in ages, it's far better that the wife should be younger. 
 
 hieut. K. Something younger, yes ; but fifteen years 
 der is better than thirty years younger. 
 
 Adm. I disagree with you, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. 1 differ from you, sir. 
 
 Adm. I shall have the dutiful attention of a dau^ht 
 combined with the affection of a wife. 
 
 Lieut. K. While I shall find united in one person, t 
 fond wife and careful mother. 
 
 Adm. Careful grandmother ! you'll be nicely henpecki 
 if you marry that widow, depend upon it. 
 
 Lieut. K. Very likely, sir ! and you marry that gi 
 girl, and you'll get your highly respected wig most ca: 
 fully combed, 1 promise you. 
 
 Adm. Your wife will never let you out of her sight. 
 
 Lieut. K. Your wife will constantly let herself out 
 yours. 
 
 Adm. You'll be wretched from morning till night. 
 
 Lieut. K. That's my business. — You won't know 
 qaiet moment. 
 
 Adm, That's mine. 
 
 Lifut. K. Well, sir! you may break our engageme 
 if you will, but I'll never give my consent. 
 
 Adm. Nor I. 
 
 Lieut. K. Just now you said there might be cases-— 
 
 Adm. And so did you, 
 
 Lieut. K. I beg your pardon, sir ; I said a case. 
 
 Adm. And so did I. 
 
 Lieut. K. I was alluding to my own. 
 
 Adm. I was alluding to my own. 
 
 Lieut. K. Well, sir ! it appears that Ave can't agree upoi 
 this subject, and so we had better part. 
 
 Adm. By all means, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. Good bye then, sir. 
 
 \Going towards inner rttem, ti. 
 
 'rav, 
 
 m 
 
:c^ 
 
 »:1V.] 
 
 NAVAL ENUAGEMENTS. 
 
 25 
 
 ter yvem, a 
 
 Adrn. Good bye, sir. [Going lowarxis the outer door^ L.j 
 'raVi go to your widow. 
 Lieut. K. And you, sir, — to your boarding-school miss. 
 
 Enter at the tame time, from c. d., J\Irs. PorUifex, and 
 from outer. Miss Mortimer, l, s. e. 
 
 ^fiss M, (l.) My dear Admiral ! What is the matter] 
 
 Mrs. P. (r. c.) Kingston dear! what is the matter ] 
 
 Adm, (L. c.) Let mo pass, Mary. I won't stay here 
 mother minute. 
 
 j\liss M.. [Checking him.] Nay, sir— 
 
 Lieut. K. (r.) Pray, stand aside. I wish to leave the 
 lioum. 
 
 Mrs. P. [In an imploring tone.] Kingston dear — 
 
 Aufn. [Mocking her, and aside.] *• Kingston dear ;" she'll 
 [make me sick. — Come, Mary love, come ! 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside.] *' Mary love !" — Well done-, old gen- 
 Itleman. \ 
 
 Mrs. P. Never mind I it's for you to give way — he's 
 [your father. 
 
 Miss M. Consider, sir ! and make some allowance for 
 [your son. 
 
 Mrs. P. Speak to him, or he'll be gone. 
 
 Lieut. K. Admiral ! 
 
 Adm. Well, sir i 
 
 Lieut. K. Don't go. 
 
 Adm. I will. 
 
 Lieut. K. Stop ! \^CJoming down, 
 
 Adm. I won't. 
 
 Lieut. K. Well, sir! do as you like; — [CrosaettoAdm, 
 and brings him down.] but there are ladies in the room 
 and 1 presume you won't like them to report that we have 
 behaved unlike gentlemen. 
 
 Adm. (l.) Well, sir! what do propose? 
 
 Lieut. K. (r.) Why, as if seems that an introduction 
 must take place at some time or other, had not it better be 
 (lone at once 1 
 
 Adm. With all my heart. 
 
 Miss M. Now, come, sir, that's quite right. 
 
 [Takes hold of his arm, and tries to walk him down 
 towards the centre; he edges her off to side opposite 
 the others. 
 
tA 
 
 NAVAI. ENGAORMENTS. 
 
 [Act 
 
 Lieut. K. [Taking Mrs. Pontijvx's hand, putting k 
 across, and looking the other waij.] Selina ! allow me 
 prrannt you to niy father? — Admiral Kingston ! 
 
 [She cvrtsfyt.] 
 
 Adm. [Bowing, but not looking at her.] Ma'am, yoJ 
 most obedient ! [ Turns atoay and looks al pictures as 
 introduces them.] Mary, my love ! that's my son out then 
 —Lieutenant Kangstou ; Lieutenant Kingston, this id Mi« 
 Mary Moitimer. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Starting.] My little playfellow 1 [Running 
 and shaking hands with Jier.] How dull I was not to rfrl 
 member you. 
 
 Adin. f Uneasy.] Mary! '• 
 
 Mrs. P. [ Uneasy.] Kingston, dear ! 
 
 Adm. That will do. 
 
 Mrs. P. That's quite enough. 
 
 ]Miss M. goes to Adm., and Lieut. K. to Mrs. P. 
 
 Lieut. K. You ladies haven't been [Gets to B.] intn^l 
 duce to each other n&u?.— -Miss Mortimer 1 allow me to vy\ 
 troduced to you Mrs. Pontifex — my intended wife. 
 
 Adm. Faugh ! 
 
 Mrs. P. " Faugh," indeed ! 
 
 3iiss 3L [To Mrs. P.] Take no notice of it. 
 Lieut. K. (r.) Mrs. Pontifex ! Miss Mary Moitimer ! 
 
 Adin. Yes, ma'am 1 my intended wife ! 
 
 Lieut. K. Absurd ! 
 
 Miss M. (l. c.) " Absurd !" 
 
 Mrs. P. [b. c, shaking hands with Miss M.] Nevel I 
 mind what he says — I'm very happy to make your ac 
 quaintance. 
 
 Miss M. You're very kind. 
 
 Adm. It will be rather a short acquaintance, I suspect 
 
 Mrs. P. I hope not, sir. 
 
 Adam. Then, ma'am, you had better cease to encou 
 rage my son in his folly. 
 
 Mrs. P. Folly sir? 
 
 Miss M. {soothing her.) Don't be excited. 
 
 Lieut. K. Come, that s pretty well, governor: conBidei 
 iiig the outrage that you are going to commit. 
 
 Miss M. Outrage ! Mr. Kingston ? 
 
 Mrs. P. {soothing her.) Pray, te calm. 
 
 Lieut K. Don't call me Mr. Kingston, Mary. 
 
CNC 
 
 1 I 
 
 NAVAL KNGAGKMKNTS. 
 
 21 
 
 to Mrs, p. 
 'o B.] intrn 
 }w roe to vy 
 wife. 
 
 .1 
 
 timer ! 
 
 il.] Nevel 
 your ac 
 
 I suspeci 
 to encou 
 
 condidei 
 
 jidm. I say, ilo; and don't you call hor Mai-y. 
 
 Mn. P. {fo Miss M.) Don't let us bo annoyed whatever 
 y say, and then we shall have some chance of their i'ul* 
 
 viii;^ a good example. 
 
 Miix. M. An excellent plan j they may say what they 
 
 e for nie. 
 
 Ijieut. K, There's something perfectly ridiculous in tiie 
 
 lion of a man's marrying a little chit, young enough t'> 
 his grand daughter. 
 
 Miss M. •• Little chit," and *• grand-daughter !" That 
 
 rather too much to bear. 
 
 Mrs. P, Now, you promised that you wouldn't mind 
 
 ything they said. 
 
 Miss M. Yes I but there*s a medium. • 
 
 Achn. I should say, it was infinitely preferable to a 
 umpery boy's mariying a woman old enough to be his 
 :and mother. 
 
 Mrs P. {screaming.) Ah ! Who is to bear that, I should 
 ce to know 1 
 
 Miss ill. Now you said you would. 
 
 Mrs. P. Very likely, my dear ! but there is reason in all 
 ings. — Kingston dear! I shall leave the room, and I 
 quest you to come with me. 
 
 Enter Short and Dennis, d. l. ii. 
 
 Adm. That's the most sensible proposition I have heard 
 
 t. Mary, come with me. 
 
 Miss M, {looking lack at Lieut. <K.) I shall have greal 
 
 easure, sir, in leaving the society of the rudest young 
 
 an in Portsmoutli. 
 
 Lieut. K. {going to Iter.) Nay, Mary, I had no inten- 
 
 Adm. Go away, sir. Come along, lov^. 
 
 [As they are going out at the door, l. e., Short 
 
 goes to Admiral with bill of fare, 
 Sliort. Won't you please to order dinner, sir ? 
 Adm. No, sir ! [Shuts door in his facet 
 
 Mrs. P. Come, Kingston dear. 
 
 [He goes to her — i^iianT folio tes him, and as they are 
 
 going through the door-way, 
 Short. Won't you please to order dinner, sir 1 
 Lieut K. No, sir ! \S,h\fts c. f^qor in lii^fnct 
 
ill i 
 
 
 28 
 
 iTAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Acil 
 
 Short. They are all mad ! 
 
 [Returns to door l. h. d., and as he is going out — 
 
 Den, {who has followed htm.) You had bettei order tlij 
 dinner yourself, sir, 
 
 Short, No, sir I [Shuts door in hisjai 
 
 Den, I'll not be out of the fashion any way; bo 1*11 1 
 something ho myself, bounce out of the room, and baii 
 the door in my own fare. *' Dennis !" " Sir to youj 
 Will you order dinner ]" No, sir!" 
 
 END OP ACT I. 
 
 ACT. II. 
 
 SCENE l.^As Scene Ut. Act Ist.^The Hall in 
 
 Fountain Inn, 
 
 Enter u. Denins, cautiously. 
 
 Den, Master, dear ! botheration I the more I searchil 
 for master, the more I misses him. [Ezit same way A 
 
 Enter l. h. Short. 
 
 Short, Surely I heard that stupid follow Dennis, calliJ/^^ {g g^ 
 me— Why, there he is ; Dennis! I X)cn. 
 
 Re-enter Dennib. ^®^** ^^ 
 
 • 
 
 Den, And it's there you are at last, master dear ; no Den. 
 I'd be mighty glad if you'd just tell me where you'i 
 been to 1 
 
 Short, Where have I been % nowhere. 
 
 Den^ By the powers 1 that's just what I thought, for 1' 
 looked for you everywhere. 
 
 Short. The way not to miss a peraon is to remain io tl 
 same place. 
 
 Den. Then I won't easily miss you again, sir ; for 1 
 not leave my present place in a hurry, you may dopci 
 upon it. 
 
 Short. Well, what have you found out ] 
 
 Den. Nothing, sir. 
 
 Short. What did you want to tell me then 1 
 
NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 :<o 
 
 ng out^" 
 ttei order i 
 
 wr in Ms fad 
 ,y; BO nil 
 tin, and ba 
 Sir to yottij 
 
 HaU tiiti 
 
 re I searchi 
 t same way 
 
 tennis, callin 
 
 r dear; no 
 vhere you 
 
 )ught, for 1 
 
 remam iq 
 
 sir ; for 
 may dopci 
 
 Ven. "Why, sir ! I wanted to tell you that I've get noth* 
 jng to tell you ; and there's some information in that. 
 
 Short. Useful information, truly 1 
 
 Vcn. Well, then, 1 declare it's no fault of mine, I'm 
 stilling to serve you through thick and through thin ; but 
 if you will have the doors of this respectable inn so ama- 
 zingly thick, it's quite impossible for the most attentive 
 waitei to hear what people's a talking about on the other 
 aide of 'em. 
 
 S/iori. The doors are thin enough ; it's your head that's 
 too thick. 
 
 Den. If I thought that I'd have it shaved once a day 
 
 Short. Neither the Admiral nor his son has said a word 
 more about the horses they ordered, I believe 1 
 
 Ven. Not a word, sir ! they have both been in their 
 rooms ever since, talking away like fun to their ladies; but 
 for all 1 could catch, it might as well have been Hebrew 
 they were speaking. 
 
 Short, [aside.) To send such a noodle as this to listen, 
 is to risk the character of my house without getting any 
 information in exchange. (Aloud.) Now Dennis, listen to 
 me. 
 
 Ven. Yes, 8\t\ \ Going. 
 
 Short. Never you listen to any body again. {Seeing that 
 le is going.) Why don't you listen to me, you rascal ] 
 
 Den. You told me not, sir; beside, sir, listeners seldom 
 hear any good of themselves. 
 
 Short. Go along about your business. 
 
 Den. Ah ! now, don't call it business ; you're such an 
 elegant master, that my business is my pleasure. 
 
 Short, You're a humbug. 
 
 Den, I'd rather hear you say that than think it, any 
 day. 
 
 Short. Now get away ; there's one of the ladies coming. 
 
 Den. {looking in opposite direction.') So there is suits 
 enough ! 
 
 [ Turns to go off the same way he comes on, and encoun* 
 ters Miss Mortimer f r. .entering. [Short turning 
 to go off, L. encounters Mrs. Pontijex, entering. 
 
 Short. I beg your pardon, ma'am ! Exit l. 
 
 Den. I ask your pardon Miss. Exit R. 
 
 I The ladies approach each other, both seeming rat hot 
 confused. 
 
 
 't I 
 
no 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Aci t.^BScCK 
 
 Miss p. (l ) [After a pause.] I am happy tc nav^mj 
 you, my dear. I was just coming to knock at your dooi 
 and ask the favor of a few minutes conversation with you 
 
 Miss M. (r.) How very oda ! 1 was seeking you, wit!i| 
 the same object in view. 
 
 Miss P. That's curious enough. 
 
 Miss M. Isn't it 1 
 
 Miss P. It is indeed 1 
 
 Miss M, Very. 
 
 Mrs, P. [After a pause.] Well, my Jear ! what was it| 
 you were going to say ? 
 
 Miss M. Upon my word, when I left ihy room I thouglnl 
 I knew ; but popping upon you so suddenly has put it| 
 quite out of my head. 
 
 Mrs. P. I think I can guess ; and moreover I stroi\glj| 
 suspect that our motives in seeking each other are veH 
 similar. You feel with me the pecnliar awkwardness ol| 
 the circumstances under which we have first met ? 
 
 Miss M. Indeed, I do. 
 
 Mrs. P. And you would be glad if, by laying our heads 
 logether, wo could devise some plan to relieve that 
 awkwardness 1 
 
 Miss M. Indeed, I should. 
 
 Miss P. It seems that the Admiral and his son never 
 had a dispute in their lives till now. 
 
 Miss M. Exactly. 
 
 Mrs P. I must Fay, I think that the Admiral is a little 
 unreasonable ; because, after all, I am but fifteen years 
 older than my Kingston. 
 
 Miss M. Well 1 and I am but thirty years yoiwigerthan 
 mine. 
 
 Mrs P. Yes, my dear; but look at the difl'wrence be 
 tween fifteen and thirty. 
 
 Miss M. I do ; but look at the difference betwcn a 
 woman and a man ; you know that a man ought to be a 
 good many years oJder than his wife. 
 
 Mrs. P. Very likely my dear; but when you are my 
 nge, you will have learnt that men are not always what 
 they ought to be. 
 
 Miss. M. Why are you going to marry Lieutenant 
 Kingston 1 
 
 Mrs. P. That is rather an abrupt question : but it is at 
 
 k 
 
1 
 
 ngr our headsl 
 relieve thai 
 
 IS son neverl 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 81 
 
 11 events fraxtk, and I wiJl frankly answer it. We were 
 hrown a great dearl into eacb other's society at Gibraltar, 
 e paid me much attention ; be became ill and I returned 
 hat attention ; be recovered, expressed his wish to maiTy 
 
 e, and 1 consented. 
 
 Miss M. And do you think he still wishes to mairy 
 ou ? 
 
 Mrs. P. What an odd girl you are ! Certainly I do, or I 
 
 ould release him from his engagement in a moment. 
 
 Miss M. Well, that io very good natured of you, though, 
 I must say. 
 
 Mrs, P. Now perhaps you'll tell me why you are going 
 bo bo married? • 
 
 Miss M. With pleasure. I always said I would marry 
 n admiral : and papa wishes me to marry Admiral King- 
 ton. 
 
 Mrs. P. Well, as matters seem to be settled for both of 
 s, the only rational way is to make the best of them ; now 
 |I want the father and the son each to release the other 
 loin his engagement, and to be friends as they ought. 
 
 3Iis8 M. 1 don't think the Admiral will ever forgive 
 Tom. 
 
 Mrs. P. Tom ! my dear % 
 
 Miss M. I beg your pardon ! we were playfellows as 
 hildren, and 1 have never seen him since till to-day j Lieu- 
 enant Kingston I mean. 
 
 Mrs. P. I should say that Lieutenant Kingston haa far 
 more to complain of than his father. 
 
 Miss M. 1 can't say I see that. 
 
 Mrs. P. However, my proposition is that you shall go 
 [and endeavour to prevail on my intended to forgive nia 
 father ; while I see whether I can't induce your Admiral 
 have some compassion for his son. 
 
 Miss M. I'll try it, with all my heart ; but he was very 
 rude to me an hour ago, you remember. 
 
 "^Jrs, P. My dear child, don't talk about that; remem- 
 bt. the Admiral's rudeness to me. 
 
 Miss M. Well, I shall do my best. [Crossing h. 
 
 Mrs. P. And the best, as they say, can do no better. 
 
 Miss M. [Stopping and turning.] Mrs Ponlifex. 
 
 Mrs. P. [Stopping and turning.] My dearl 
 
 Mtss M. Don't you make too much love to my Que oW 
 Gnglish Admiral ; or else I shall bo jealous. 
 
 ■^:iu^ 
 
1SI 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Aci II 
 
 Mrs. P. I'll take care. And I say, my dearl 
 J\hss M. What say you ? 
 
 Mrs. P. Lieutenant Kingston, if you please; not Tomll 
 
 [Exeunt severally^ n. and l. 
 
 Scene. II. — As Scene 3rd, Act 1. — Sette and two chairtl 
 
 as before. 
 
 The Admiral discovered walhing up and down. 
 
 Aam. This is a confounded mess, and I don't see mH 
 way out of it. It's the fii-st disagreement that Tom and ll 
 ever had, and 1 must own that 1 never felt so uncomforta>| 
 ble in my life. [Knock at room do9r, e.] Come in. 
 
 Enter Dennis, l. 
 
 Ddn. Are you alone, sir 1 
 
 Adm. I am, and wish to be left alone. 
 
 Den. In course, sir. I'm a waiter, and it*8 my duty tol 
 attend to your wishes ; but by the same token it's my dutyl 
 to attend to every body's wishes; and a lady has sent me to| 
 you with a message. 
 
 Adm. I 'm sorry it's not a gentleman, for I feel moii'i 
 Btrously inclined to shoot somebody. 
 
 Den. It would shuit the lady if you could see hernow.lmy onl 
 eir I 
 
 Adm. What is she ? 
 
 Den. Why, sir, you see some names is hard to remem- 
 ber easily ; but I should say the lady's name is Mrs. Hali- 
 fax, or Paddywhacks. 
 
 Adm. Don't you think it was Mrs. Pontifex 1 
 
 Den. I don't think at all about it, sir ; because I'm sure 
 of it. 
 
 Ad?n. Beg her to walk in. 
 
 Den. [aside.] " Beg her to walk in ! I wonder did he 
 think she was going to ride in Exit L. 
 
 Adm. What the deuce can she have to say to me ! 
 
 Re-enter Dennis, l. conducting Mrs. Pontieex. 
 
 Den. [announcing.] Mre. , that lady, sir ? 
 
 Adm. Leave the room, sir. [Exit Dennis l.] Madam 
 mce more your most obedient. Permit me to offer you a 
 chiuv. [Places one fox l. h. and another for himself at 
 ^i.st:inr£ Com if. 
 
[Aci II 
 
 :eni: II.] 
 
 NAVTAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 33 
 
 ; not Tom! 
 /, R. and L, 
 
 i two chain 
 
 i doion, 
 
 jn't see my 
 : Tom and 1 
 uncomforta' 
 3 in. 
 
 ] H Mrs P. JL.\ "Wo have been introduced to each other, 
 
 (Imiral ICingston, under circumstances of a very unpro" 
 ising nature. 
 
 Adm. [r] Most unpromising, ma'am ; most unpromising. 
 Mrs. P. It would give me the sincerest pleasure, if, by 
 ny means in my power, I could set matters straight be- 
 ween you and your son. 
 Adm. I dare say it would, ma'am. I can easily undsr- 
 laiitl that. 
 Mrs. P. Will you be candid enougti to tell me exactly 
 hat you mean] 
 
 Ad/n. Why, ma'am, as I em speaking to a lady, I would 
 ather leave my meaning to her own penetration ; but this 
 3 no time for overstrained delicacy. 
 
 Mrs. P. On that point, sir, at all events, you will find 
 hat we are agreed. 
 
 Adm. Well then, ma'am, to be plain with you, I can easily 
 nderstand your readiness to set matters straight between 
 e and my son ; because your so doing would lead to your 
 arriage with a good-looking, good-for-nothing, gentle- 
 anly young rascal ; with the Queen's commission to his 
 ack, and the prospect of fine fortune in his front. 
 Mrs. P. Self interc' an, then, you consider to bo 
 ;ee her now,|niy only motive ? 
 
 Adm. Why, ma'am, to pursue the candid line; I imagine 
 
 [there can't be any violent love on either side ; when tlie 
 
 gentleman is only five-and-twenty, and the lady is— — 
 
 Mrs. P. Turned of forty, sir ! don't hesitate, we are 
 
 pursuing the "candid" line, you know. 
 
 Adm. Madam, I must own that you have anticipated 
 me. 
 
 Mrs. P. And I shall beg leave to do so again, sir, for I 
 Boe that you want my assistance. There is a native warmth, 
 a kindness about your heart, sadly at variance with the 
 
 my duty to 
 
 it's my duty 
 
 as sent me to 
 
 I feel moii'l 
 
 to remem* 
 is Mrs. Hali< 
 
 ;? 
 
 use I'm sure 
 
 nder did be 
 
 HiXit L. tone of severity which you are endeavoring to assume 
 
 tome! 
 
 NTITEX. 
 
 sir? 
 
 L.] Madam 
 1 oflTer you a 
 
 iviiclf at 
 
 towards me. 
 
 Adm. [forgetting himself. \ Ma'am you are very good, 
 [recovering his tone] but you are very much mistaken : I 
 nave by no means a kind heart. In short, you can't pos- 
 sibly know any thing about my heart. 
 
 Mrs. P. Why, sir, I have listened to its praises fro?n 
 vour son for hours together. 
 
 
84 
 
 NAVAfi ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Actl 
 
 li'i 
 
 I I! 
 
 
 Adni, \aaide\ Bless his hoaitl bless his Iieiit I [Aloud, 
 It would have been much better if you had never listeneij 
 to any thing my son said. 
 
 Airs. P. You are of opinion that 1 have entrapped youj! 
 Bon into a promise of marriage, solely because I hoi 
 to share the fortune he expects from you — 
 
 Adm. Madam ! you have said it. 
 
 Mrs. P. You think that I have no real regard forhkl 
 happiness; but that I virould force myself, at the price oi 
 thar, into connection with an ancient and honourable! 
 family — 
 
 Adjn. I never contradict a lady. 
 
 Mrs. P. In this case, you would have done her better! 
 justice if you had. 
 
 Ad7n. Can you make that appear 1 
 
 Mrs, P. With the greatest ease ; I came here hither inl 
 the hope of inducing you to consent to a marriage whicli 
 your son had, to use the mildest terra, persuaded himself, 
 would make him happy. From that son's description o| 
 you, I had expected to find you kind — 
 
 Adm. Ah 1 
 
 Mrs. P. Affectionate — 
 
 Adm, Ah 1 
 
 Mrs. P. And generous. 
 
 Adm. Ah ! 
 
 Mrs. P. Instead of which, it seems you are harsh — 
 
 Adm. Ma'am! 
 
 Mrs. P. Unfeeling. 
 
 Adm. Ma'am ! 
 
 Mrs. p. And unrelenting. 
 
 Adm. Ma'am ! 
 
 Mrs. P. We are pursuing the "candid" line^ you know, 
 gir, by agreement. 
 
 Adm, Yes, mr^dam, but you needn't cross the line. 
 
 Mrs. P. Wei?, sir, to prove you, at all events, that y«i 
 have done me injustice; to show you that 1 have a real 
 feeling for your son, and none for his fortunfe, I am wil 
 ing to make a great sacrifice. 
 
 Adm. What 1 to take the boy with half his money, 1 
 suppose ? 
 
 Mrs. P. No, sir; I resign all pretensions to his money 
 
 Adm. \drawing his chair nearer to hcr.\ What's that you 
 say. madam. 
 
% 
 
 [•^inBscciiE ii.j 
 
 It I [Aloudi 
 ver liate!i(j| 
 
 •api)ed yow| 
 use I hoT 
 
 gard for hJ 
 the price oil 
 honourable! 
 
 e her betteil 
 
 sre hither in! 
 riage which 
 dcd himself, 
 iscriptioD oi 
 
 harsh — 
 
 you know 
 
 line. 
 Ls, that yo\i 
 (have a real 
 
 I am will 
 
 money, 1 
 
 lliis money 
 I's that vou 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 85 
 
 jifrj. P. And, rather than prolong an unhappy difler- 
 ftnce between a hard-hearted father and a persecuted son, 
 I also resign all pretension to his hand, and release him 
 from his engagement. 
 
 Adm. [drawing his chair quite close to her.] "Would it be 
 too much trouble to say that again ] 
 
 Mrs. P. Not at all, sir. Rather than prolong an unhappy 
 difference between a hard hearted 
 
 Adm. [interrupting.] I don't mean that part. 
 
 Mrs, P. I resign all pretensions to his hand, and release 
 him from his engagement. 
 
 Adm. Ma'am you are a most a extraordinary woman. 
 
 Mrs. P. I am glad you think so (rising.) and now 
 
 Adm. No, no ! sit down, sit down, pray ; it is just pos- 
 sible that you may have done me some injustice; so sit down 
 pray, {she sits.) My dear madam, you have surprised me, 
 my dear Mrs. Pontifex, I may say you have astounded 
 mc : and though you have called me harsh, unfeeling and 
 unrelenting, I do assure you that I am not actually de- 
 serving of either of those epithets. I'm not easily driven, 
 hut I don't like being outdone upon a point of generosity; 
 I won't accept this resignation of yours until I know 
 more about the matter. I'm not a stock, nor a stone; 1 
 love my son, you think I don't, but I do — I love that boy 
 dearer than my life ; yes, madam ! dearer than my life, 
 hard-hearted as I am : and sooner than see him wretched, 
 I'll consent to his marriage, forego my own, and jump 
 into the sea, (Rises.) 
 
 Airs. P. And now, my de^r sir, I beg you to forgive all 
 that I have said ; for you are indeed the kind, good, libe- 
 ral, and warm-hearted being your son has always descri- 
 bed you to% be. 
 
 Adm. That boy is a boy of ten thousand, ma'am ! 
 
 Mrs. P. He is indeed : and such being the case, you 
 will give him your hand, won't you 1 and bid him forget 
 the momentary unpleasantness that has passed. 
 
 Adm. Ma'am ! my hand shall be at his service for two 
 purposes ; I'll first box the young rascal's ears for being 
 impertinent to his father, and then I'll give him such a 
 grip of friendship as a British sailor has ever ready for his 
 lAte enemy upon the proclamation of peace. 
 
 Mrs. P. This is indeed charminor : shall we go to him? 
 
 !iU 
 

 
 i: 
 
 3G 
 
 NAVAL KNG.\«KMt:NT$. 
 
 tASTII 
 
 Adm. [Talcing her hand.] Not yet! Now don't be jgl 
 such a liurry — I want to talk with you a little more — yonj 
 must know that I am getting quite fond of you. 
 
 Mrs. P. I'm 8ure, sir, I am very much flattered. 
 
 Adm. Not at all, not at all ; it is your own merit — yoml 
 own attractions which have in so short a time converteiil 
 tn antipathy into a predilection. 
 
 Mrs. P. I'm quite delighted, sir. 
 
 Adm. Tom loves you, I suppose ? 
 
 J^lrs. P. I believe he does. 
 
 Adm. I don't wonder at it ; he would be a precioujl 
 fiol, and very unlike his father, if he didn't. You musn'! 
 be annoyed with me f )r my frankness, but I tell you venj 
 plainly, that [ never was so taken with any lady upon 
 first acquaintance in my life. 
 
 Mrs. P. Annoyed, my dear sir? Why, to please you 
 the first wish of my heart. 
 
 Adm. You don't say so ? 
 
 Mrs. P. Next to that of pleasing your son. 
 
 Adm. Ah ! hang that Tom ! those sons are always iij 
 one's way : well, well, say no more about it — he's aluckj 
 dog — but you're too old for him — you are indeed. 
 
 Mr.<i. P. Don't say any thing about that, sir. 
 
 Adm. My dear, I must — candor — you know — candol 
 — you're a charming woman — but, by George, you're to( haven 
 old to marry Tom. 
 
 Mis. P. I suspect that I am not the only person in thi 
 room who is about to marry one much younger than — 
 
 Adm. Now, don't mention that. 
 
 Mrs. P. Candor — you know, sir— candor. 
 
 Adm. Now, pray don't — I confess my folly — I don' 
 know how it came about — I almost wish, fof her 8ak( 
 that it had not come about — she's a dear, good girl. 
 
 Mrs. P. You would say so again, if you knew all. 
 
 Adm. All— What is all? 
 
 Mrs. P. She is at this moment, I believe, with you 
 son. 
 
 Adm. With my son ? What the devil for? 
 
 Mrs. P. For the same purpose that I came to you-ljut r< 
 to reconcile ycu to each other ; as I have prospered i 
 well, the work is mere than half done. [Going. 
 
 Adm. Don't let us go just yet. 
 
LA:Ti|H^^^,^cni.^ 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMEN.8. 
 
 37 
 
 Mrs. P. N*yi sir! Why delay, when good is to be 
 
 [Joiio ' 
 
 Adtn. I d.in't know-*-I*m in no hurry; that's all I know 
 [—but IV ©hall bo as you wish — every thing shall be asyott 
 
 » ish. 
 
 Mrs. P. [Goin'T.] I'll lead the way then. 
 
 Adm. Nay, my dear ! let me offer you an arm. 
 
 Mrs. P. Oh ! with pleasure. 
 
 [ Takes tt. Walking across the stage with htf» 
 
 Aim. \Sto'p]ping.\ I wish that dear little girl that I'm 
 Igoing^ to make ant»odle of myself with, were your age in- 
 ifitead of her own. 
 
 Mrs. P. It would be better, I must admit. 
 
 Adm. And I can't help wishing, for your sake and 
 [Tom's, that you were of her age, instead of your <>wn. 
 
 Mrs. P. That would be better also, I admit. 
 
 Adm. You are as candid as you are handsome. 
 
 Mrs. P. My dear Admiral ! 
 
 Adm. My dear madam ! [Exeunt l. 
 
 Scene III. — As Scene 2d, Act \st — Set us before."^ 
 
 Enter Lieutenant Kingston, (c.) 
 
 Lieut. K. This is a pretty business ! and what to do, I 
 haven't the most distant idea. My father won't give me 
 nis consent, that seems very clear ; what on earth does ho 
 mean to do 1 Where the deuce is Mrs. Pontifox gone 
 to ? and what the devil do you want ? 
 
 [ To Dennis, who knocks and enters, l. 
 
 Den. I want you, sir — that is to say — no, sir ! it isn't me 
 exactly, that wants you, but it's another lady outside. 
 
 Lieut. K. What lady 1 
 
 Den. The young lady, sir, that was with tho old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Lieut. K. Miss Mortimer ? 
 
 Den. I believe that's her cllristian name, sir 
 
 Lieut. K. Did you say I was here ? 
 
 Den. I said I didn't know whether you was or not, sir, 
 jat I'd ask you. 
 
 Lieut. K. Show her in. 
 
 Z)e/t. I will sir. \Et%ii., 
 
 Lieut. K. What's in the wind now, 1 wonder? 
 
2h 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 lAfi ill 
 
 Re-enter Dennis, l. conducting Miss AIoatimbk. 
 
 Ihrt. The lady, sir. 
 
 LituL K. Dennis ! 
 
 J)en. Coming, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. Leave the robm. 
 
 J)en. Going, sir. [Exit, 
 
 Lieut. K. Won't yon nit down ? [Movet sefte doum tot 
 
 Misn M. Thank you! [Sits at the extreme end of ik\ 
 sette.\ I wisli for a fow minutes' conversation with you 
 perhaps, you will sit down also? 
 
 Lieut. K. (l.) If you wish it — certainly. 
 
 [Sits at opposite extreme end. 
 
 Misft. M. (i-.) We parted children ; we 'meet again 
 •inder very peculiar circumstances. 
 
 Lieut. K. Very, indeed, madam ! 
 
 Miss M. •♦ Madam?" 
 
 Lieut. K. Certainly ! one must practise respect to one'i 
 mother you know. 
 
 Miss M. True ! I forgot ; it is very distressing to me] 
 to have witnessed the first disagreement you ever had with 
 your father, -and to feel that I am in some measure the 
 cause of it. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Getting a little nearer to 7ier, and ax liespeah 
 the gets a little nearer to him.] Your sentiments do equal 
 honour to your head and heart — Madam. 
 
 [They both get back to their places. 
 
 Miss. M. 1 am truly glad you think so; I am most 
 anxious to see you reconciled to each other, and if you 
 retain those quick and generous feelings which used to 
 actuate you as a boy — [During this they again approach 
 
 each other.] I am sure that you will readily assist me 
 
 Sir ! [ They get back to their places. 
 
 Lieut. K. Yes, madam. 
 
 Miss M: Now that your first surprise is over at finding 
 that I am going to be marry|d to your father, I should like 
 you to teil me candidly what you think of me. 
 
 Lieut K. 1 think you so altered, that it is no wonder 
 I did not recognise you. I think you more beautiful than 
 I ever dreamt you would grow up to be ! 
 
 Miss M. I didn't mean that. 
 
 Lieut. K. But [ did though — [checking himself.] Ma'am 
 
tint 
 
 III.] 
 
 XAVAL KNCAGEMEN'iB. 
 
 39 
 
 OATlMBft. 
 
 spect to one'il 
 
 Misf M. I want to know what you think of marrying 
 tie Admiral ^ . . . 
 
 Lieut. K. I think it is one of the moat preposterous 
 linf^s I ever heard in my life : I think I have got a very 
 lilly old man for a father, and that I am going to have— 
 ritli the greatest respect — a noodle for a mother. 
 
 Miss M. Sir, you are very polite ! 
 
 Lieut. K. Well, I can't help it ; for upon my sou), 
 Ijaiy — ma'am, I mean — it's too ridiculous. 
 
 Miss M. You look through a glass of great magnifying 
 )vver at other people's faults, and reveree it to peep a 
 ^our own. 
 
 Lieut. M. ^That's a very fine speech, I dare say ; but I 
 Jon't exactly perceive the application of it. 
 
 Miss M. No! Why, what do you imagine people will 
 ly about your marrying old Mrs. Pontifex ? 
 
 Lieut. K. [Getting up and walking about.'] Hollo ! am I 
 ^oing to be laughed at ? I can't bear that — and I won't 
 )ear it — and so you may tell people. If the men laugh at 
 le, they must take the consequence ; and if the women 
 lugh at me, I'll shoot their husbands, sons, brothers, fa. 
 lers, and uncles. 
 
 Miss M. Dear me ! Why, one would think you were 
 le whole navy of England, instead of only a lieutenant 
 
 it. 
 
 Lieut. K. I won't bear it, I'm determined ! 
 
 Miss M. Well, well; sit down, a pretty dear — sit down 
 ipon the same sofa with it's ma — and it shan't be laughecf 
 
 Lieut. K. [Sitting down.] Now don't Mary! don't ma'am, 
 f there is one tningthat I hate more than another, it ij 
 idicule ; deserved or not, I feel just the same. 
 
 Miss M. It is a pity that one so sensitive should have 
 xposed himself to it, but I won't say any more about it; 
 f I have vexed you forgive me. [ Offers her hand. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Getting close to 'her, and taking it.] Oh • 
 nad&m ! [D — n madam ! I can't say it any more, and 1 
 ^^on'tj Oh, Mary ! now you are, indeed, like the frank 
 nd affectionate child 1 once knew you. 
 
 Mis* M. You musn't call me Mary — Tom, 
 
 Lieut. K. Not when you call me Tom ? 
 
 Miss M. Did I call you Tom 1 I beg your [lardon 
 
10 
 
 NAVAL R.ifGAGKMKNTs. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 Lieut. K. Djn*t apologize : it ptits me in mind of oj 
 times. 
 
 Mi'jis M. Do you know where Mrs. Pcnlifox i^? 
 
 Lieut, K. Nevermind her just now. 
 
 Mtsa M. Oil ! hut I must ; she's with the admir&l. 
 
 L'tem. K. Whnt ! are you jealous 1 
 
 Miss M. Not til o least. — Are you 1 
 
 Lieut. K. No ! 
 
 Miss M. She seems tome to be a very delightful W(J 
 man. 
 
 Lieut. K. So she is ! so she is ! Oh ! that she i* ! I cei 
 tainly wish, for her sake, that she was something ne>\rt{ 
 my own a^e — yours now, for instance. 
 
 Miss M. I'm afraid that wish will grow upon you. 
 
 Lieut. K. What is she gone to the admiral for? 
 
 Miss M. To ask him to consent to your marriage ; an 
 / came to ask you to consent to his. 
 
 Lieut K. I can't do it ; it goes against my conscienc«| 
 
 i Rises, 
 
 Lieut. K. 1 cannot — I fael that I cannot. 
 
 Miss M. That which must be — must be : why theJ 
 should yu refuse to make the best of it? Come, Lieu 
 tenant Kingston, for my sake — come — Tom— for Mary'j 
 sake, consent, 
 
 Lieut. K. For your sake, Mary, I will consent to any| 
 thing. 
 
 * Miss M. [Rising.] Come with me then, at once, and let nJ 
 see you on your old terms with your father. 
 
 Lieut. K, Not this moment! there's no such absoluti 
 huny. I think I have consented too soon. Mary, sij 
 down and persuade rne again. 
 
 Miss M. No, no ! it must not be : and you must lea\ 
 off calling me Mary^ 
 
 Lieut. K. Well, if it must be so ;— for the last time 
 least, Mary, take my arm. 
 
 Miss M. Will you hold your tongue about Mary, Md 
 Tom? 
 
 [ Takes ?us arm ; and is going forwards l. d. Enter tl 
 Admiral with Mas. Pontifex leaning on his arm- 
 the others separate hastily^ and in confusion. 
 
 Adm. I thought I informed you, sir, that I was aboi'j 
 to be married In that lady ? 
 
larnage ; anj 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMtNlB. 
 
 J,icHt. K. You (lid, sir. 
 
 Adm. And uruler those circiimplances, do you t'.iii.k H 
 )roper or decent that I should find her flaunting about 
 riih her arm tlirough yours ? Look at me, sir, and an- 
 nver mc ! 
 Lieut. K. (n.) I am looking at you, sir. 
 Adm. (u) Well, sir! 
 
 Lieuf. K. And 1 want to know whether you think it 
 )roper or decent that I should find that lady flaunting 
 il)()ut with her arm through yours ? 
 
 Aflm. Pooh, pooh ! nonsense — you foolish monkey ! 
 I'ou're not going to be jealous of your father t 
 Mrs. P. [l. c. To Admiral.] Now — my dear sir — 
 Lient. K. Why noti when you arc jealous of your son 
 Miss M. [n. c. To Lieutenant K.] Now be calm. 
 Adm. The fact is, sir, that I am particularly pleased 
 ith this lady. 
 
 Lirut. K. Sir, you do me great honour. 
 Adm, She has done you great honour in condescending 
 io care about such a — such— a— 
 
 Miss M. Very agreeable young man as Lieutenant 
 Kingston, R. N. 
 
 Adtn. Oh, what! he has been doing the agreeable to 
 ^ou, has he ? 
 
 Miss M. The fact is, sir, that I am particularly pleased 
 |ivith this gentleman. 
 
 Mrs. P. Kingston, dear! what have you been saying to 
 Miss Mortimer? 
 
 Lieut. K. I have only been endeavouring to make myself 
 Icceptable to my future (ahem!) mother-in-law; 
 
 Adm. [Aside.] Confound the word — how ridiculous it 
 founds in his moulh ! 
 
 Mrs. P. My dear Miss Mortimer, you remember, no 
 loubt, the terms of our agreement, and the objects fur 
 r'hich wo undertook to see the dear Admiral and his 
 son ] CE 
 
 Miss M. [Aside.] The dear Admiral ! \Aloud.\ Per- 
 fectly — you were to obtain a release for his son from the 
 ['dear Admiral," and I was to obtain a release for the 
 idmiral from " Kinp^ston, dear !" 
 Mn,, P. [Aside] Kingston dear! 
 Miss M. [Aside] She doesn't seem to lik« it herself. 
 
 tMt j> ■- -.'i . 
 
r 
 
 11 
 
 IfATAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 jActU 
 
 Mrs. P. Have you succeeded % 
 
 Miss M. Ask him. 
 
 Lieut, K. I have promised to obey her wishos in al] 
 things. 
 
 Mrs. P. [Aside.] Indeed ! 
 
 Miss M. Have you succeeded ? 
 
 Mrs. P. I refer you to the Admiral hi nself. 
 
 Adm. I must own that I strongly incline to comply wit|] 
 any request of this lady's. 
 
 Miss M. [Aside] Really ! 
 
 Mrs P. Our course,, then, is obvious. "We have beei 
 the unintentional causes of the first differeiice between } 
 worthy father and an excellent son. In the peculiar 
 circumstances under which we are about to become 
 members of that family, it is our first duty to remove thai 
 difference. The goodness of both their hearts has been 
 shown in the readiness with which they have listened to 
 our j'acific overtures, and I now call upon you, Kingston 
 dear, to extend that hand which your father is eager to 
 receive in his. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Running to his father.] My dear sir! 
 
 Adm. (l.) My dear boy, 
 
 Lieut. K. (l. c.) I'm heartily sorry, eir, that we should 
 have disagiecd for a moment. 
 
 Adm. You can't be more sorry than lara, my boy : noj 
 more glad that the little squall has passed over. 
 
 Miss M. I am delighted to see you again as you shouU 
 be. 
 
 Mrs. P. And so am I ! 
 
 Adm [Shaking hands with Mrs. P.] I'm sure you an 
 —worthy, excellent creature, I'm sure you are ! 
 
 Lieut. K. [Shaking hands with Miss M.] I'm sure yoi 
 are — ^charming, delightful creature — I'm suie you are ! 
 
 Adm. There — that will do, Tom ; now come hither, I 
 wrant to speak to you. You ladies will excuse us for two 
 minutes, I'm sure ? 
 
 Miss M. Oh ) ceainiy, sir. 
 
 Mrs. P. Come, love I 
 
 [Miss M. takes her arm, and they retire ujf stage, look 
 ing over prints, Sfc, at ta:le a. 
 
 Adm. I say, Tom — 
 'tieut. K. Yes, sir. 
 
" 
 
 jAcTli^^cEPein ] 
 
 NAVAL ENGAiit.MKNTS. 
 
 4a 
 
 Adm. Tom, I say— * 
 
 Lieut. K. Yes, sir. 
 
 Adm. \Bawling.\ D—n it, sir, I say, Tom ! 
 
 Lieut. K. Aye — aye, sir. 
 
 Aihn. That's the way to answer me — that sounis like 
 U-i times. Are you in good humour? 
 
 Lieut. K. Never better, sir. 
 
 Adm. That's right. 
 
 hieuty K. Will you allow me to hope that the serenity 
 [ft, your mint] is perfectly re-established 1 
 
 Adm. Perfectly. Now look here — [coaxinglT/.] What 
 [the deuce could ever make you ihinK of marrying a woman 
 [fifteen years older than yourself? 
 
 Lieut. K. What the deuce could ever make you think 
 I of marrying a girl thirty years younger than yourself ? 
 
 Adm. I tell you what, master l^m, you have contracted 
 a vile habit of meeting a question with a question. 
 
 Lieut. K. I don't wish to annoy you, sir. 
 
 Adm. I didn't say you annoyed me sir, I said it was a 
 vile habit, and so it is : come — come, let me see you return 
 to your senses, and renounce this silly match. 
 
 Lieut. K. Silly match, sir — silly match ? 
 
 Adm. Now, you said you were in a good humour, 
 
 Lieut. K. So I am, sir — go on — say what you like— 1*11 
 take it all in good part. 
 
 Adm. Now, own that's a silly match — ha ! ha! 
 
 Lieut K. Any thin^ you please, sir — ha ! ha ! 
 
 Adm. Just fancy you and your wife twenty years hence 
 — you still a young man, with straight back and elastic gait, 
 walking — thus ; [crossing n. and hack l.] and slie, with 
 stooping shoulders and hal^palsied head, toddling by your 
 side — thus. [Laughing.] Tom! Tom! it's too ridiculous! 
 people should marry those of their own age — 1 always 
 told you so. 
 
 Lieut. K. [ With a forced laugh.] The picture you have 
 ('/ravvn, sir, is funny enough I must own — attend one mo- 
 ment while I sketch another. — When a certain younc: 
 lady shall have reached the age of forty, she will still 
 retain her firm step and handsome features, and will walk 
 •long the admired of i\\\ beholders — thus ; [crosses l. and 
 hack R.] while a certain Admiral, then turned ofseventVt 
 ffith one hand on his stick and t'other behind his back. 
 
 
 I 
 
 II 
 
 N 
 
 I? 
 
 
rtAN'AL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 FAcT ill 
 
 f.] keep up with her as best he may — flusf Sir, sir! m 
 
 «» ridiculous ! people should marry those of their ownj 
 ge--l always told you so. 
 
 Adm. (l.) Or, if there is a difference, the man should b^l 
 the older. 
 
 Lieut. K. (r.) Well, sir, it's of no use to talk, the thitifi 
 is settled, and you have consented. 
 
 Adm. (r.) So have you, if you come to that. 
 
 Lieut. K. (r.) I don't consider that I have done any suctl 
 thing, 
 
 Adm. Nor I neither. 
 
 Lieut. K. Do you mean to deny your words, sir ? 
 
 Adm. Can I do better than follow your excellent exam 
 pie, sir ? 
 
 Lieut. K. Very well, sir : then there seeras no chancel 
 of our agreeing ? 
 
 Adm. Not the slightest. 
 
 [They Jlounce fro n each others and turn up the itagtA^ 
 Mrs. p. and Miss M. at same time come dovi 
 centre. 
 
 Miss M. (r.) Now here is a pretty business — they have] 
 quarrelled again ! 
 
 Mrs. P. (l ) Oh ! it's quite shocking, my dear f 
 
 Miss M, Much good you seem to have done by youii 
 iaterference ! 
 
 Mrs. P. Come ! I have done as much as you have, at a'll 
 events ! 
 
 Miss M. Yo'i pretended that the Admiral had cod 
 Ben ted — 
 
 Mrs. 1 . "Pietended," Miss Mortimer! pray be a X\ii\ e^^^^e y 
 more guarded in your expressions. "®'' '-" 
 
 Misi M. J suspect you have not said half a dozen wordi "^o^'^^by i 
 to him on the subject. 
 
 Mrs. P. A line out of a copy-book, Miss Mortimer— 
 
 Miss M. What's that, pray ? 
 
 M^s. P. "Suspicion ever hauntp the guilty mind. 
 
 MissM. Another — 
 
 Mrs. P. What 1 
 
 Miss M. " Old ago is querulous". 
 
 Mrs. P. "Saucy girls are very rude." 
 
 Miss M. Widow Pontifex, you are insulting. 
 
 Mrs. P. Spinster Mortimer — ditto. 
 
 tt 
 
 Adm, 
 
 Miss : 
 vents! 
 
 Lieut. 
 
 Mrs. . 
 irould gi 
 
 Lieut. 
 'iUier ; I: 
 
 Miss 
 ••<linu d 
 
TAcT ill 
 
 c^zlU- 
 
 NAVAL EFGAGEMEN'fS. 
 
 [They Jlounce up centre of stage — Admibal and LiiU* 
 TENANT coync down at the two sides at same time. 
 Adni. \ Aside.] Dear me ! dear me ! the ladies are quar- 
 llirig, now. 
 
 Lieut. K. [Aside R.] If the women get to loggerheads, 
 ere's an end of everything ! 
 
 [Bjjthis time the Ladies have returned — Mrs. P. on the 
 Bide of Lieut. K. and Miss M. on the side of the 
 Admiral. 
 Adm. [jTa Miss M.] My dear child, I'm sorry to see 
 is. 
 
 Miss M. Don't call me child, sir; if I'm to marry a 
 an as old as you are, I wo'nt to be called a child, at fill 
 vents. 
 
 Adm. (l.) Very well, miss. 
 Miss M. (l. c.) Don't call me miss. 
 Adm. For shame, my dear. 
 Miss M. Don't call me, my dear. 
 
 Adm. [Aside] Oh, dear ! Oh dear ! what have I undertt 
 en 1 
 
 Lieut, K, [r. To Mrs. P.] I'm really quite vexed, Mr& 
 ontifex. 
 
 Mrs. P. (r. c.) Don't Mrs. Pontifex me, sir. 
 Lieut. K. Is this the temper which I thought so perfect 1 
 Mrs. P. Your obstinacy is enough to spoil any temper 
 n the world. 
 
 Lieut. J£. You are many years older than I am, and 
 lUght to set a better example. 
 Mrs. P. That's right, sir ! insult me because 1 was born 
 V be a litt'6 '^fore you ; but I needn't wonder at any thing you do, 
 fter the manner in which you have behaved to your 
 ozen wordi 'o^'^^y ^"^1 excellent father, there. 
 
 Adm. Madam ! I'm very much obliged to you. 
 Miss M. For abusing your son 1 that's good taste, at all 
 lyents ! 'm sure a better young man never existed. 
 Lieut. K. That's very kind of you, Mary. 
 Afrs. P. If you had a proper respect for your father, you 
 fo\i\d give way to him in every thing. 
 
 Lieut. K. I have the highest possible respect for ray 
 liner ; but ho shall never marry that girl, if 1 can help if. 
 Miss M. A truly affectionate father would overlook a 
 •i^linjf defect in so admirable a son. 
 
 Sir, sir ! id 
 r their own 
 
 n should U 
 
 k, the tbiiifl 
 
 >ne any suctl 
 
 Is, sir? 
 silent exam 
 
 3 no chancd 
 
 > the 8tagt-A 
 come dom 
 
 — they havJ 
 
 irf 
 
 ne by youi 
 
 I have, at a'l 
 
 al had con 
 
 jrtimer— 
 
 nind." 
 
«6 
 
 'NAVAL ENUAGEMENTS. 
 
 [Act 
 
 Adm. I lovo my son, Miss Mortimer as a father oua' 
 but d ■ n me if* I consent to his marriage with that ladi 
 And now as we seem at any rate to understand one ani 
 ther about a misunderstanding, nothing j*«raains for 
 but to order my carriage and go home. Jlere, waiter 
 
 Lieut. K. Stay, sir ! as I know not when or under whi 
 circumstances we may meet again, I crave your permt 
 sion to take a proper and respectful leave ®f my futui 
 mother-in-law. 
 
 Adm. Be it so ! Mary, take leave of my son ; and yo 
 madam, as there is no difference between us, will perhai 
 not refuse my parting good wishes. 
 
 [Mrs. p. goes to Adm. and Miss M. to Lieut 
 Miss M. (r. c.) It's very disagreeable to part again, j 
 as we have met after so many years of absence. 
 
 Lieut. K. (r.) It makes me wretched to think of it. 
 
 Adm. (l.) Believe me, Mrs. Pontifex, I part with tlii 
 greatest reluctance from a lady, for whom a very shoi 
 acquaintance has given me the most sincere tjsteem am 
 regard. 
 
 Mrs. P. (l c.) I assure you, ray dear sir, the regret 
 mutual. 
 
 i.am. Farewell, then, madam. [Taking her hand. 
 
 Mrs. p. Farewell, sir. 
 
 Lieut. K. [ Taking Miss M.'s hand.\ Farewell, old play' 
 fellow. 
 
 Miss M. Farewell! 
 
 Adrn. I presume you are to be my daughter-in-law, and] 
 I therefore offer you a father's blessing. 
 
 [Kissing her forehead. 
 
 Lieut. K. M.ther-in-law, accept my dutiful regrets al 
 leaving you. [Kisses her forehead. 
 
 * Adm. Once more, adieu 1 [ Takes Mrs. P. in his arms. 
 
 Lieut. K. Mary ! 
 
 Miss M. Tom ! [He takes her in his arms. 
 
 Adm. [Looking over Mrs. P.'s shoulder.] Lieutenaui 
 Kingston ! 
 
 Lieut. K. [Looking over Miss M.* 8 shoulder.] Sirl 
 
 Adm. What the devil are you obout, sir ] 
 
 JAeut. K. What are you about, sir? 
 
 Adm. Sir, I hardly know ! 
 
 Lieut. K. A thought strikeii ra**^- 
 
 \AcH 
 
 llit 
 \Ad\ 
 Lie] 
 >mai( 
 
 Adri 
 
 mH 
 
 (art 
 
 ie till 
 
 ice. 
 
 Licii 
 1 
 
a father ouirl 
 e with that \li\ 
 rstind one ai 
 r«niains for 
 ^ere, waiter! 
 1 or under whi 
 3 your perm 
 3 ®f my futui 
 
 son ; and yen] 
 IS, will perhap 
 
 I M.to Lieut, 
 part again, ji 
 nee. 
 
 hink of it. 
 
 pait with tU 
 
 I a very shor 
 
 I'e tjsteem anj 
 
 ', the regret 
 
 ng /ter Jiand, 
 
 kvell, old play.| 
 
 er-in-law, and] 
 
 ler forehead. 
 iui regrets all 
 herfurchead, 
 in his arms, 
 
 m his arms, 
 1 Lieutenau; 
 
 '.] Sir J 
 
 lilE Hi 
 
 NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 41 
 
 MJ;». What is it. ^ l, . 
 
 \Ueut. K. Do you find yourself comfortable 7 
 Udm. Very. , 
 
 \jjieut. K. So I do; then suppose we change wives, and 
 imain as we are. 
 
 \Adrn. It's all m the family ma*ara : what say you ? 
 Mrs. P. My dear sir, I told you that the first wish of my * 
 krt was to please your son : my next to please you. 1 
 \e that his happiness is concerned, and I consent at 
 
 ice. 
 
 Lieut. K. My dear Mrs. Pontifex, what shall I say to 
 
 u? 
 
 Mrs. — . Say, "thank you m<»mma," and be a good boy 
 
 r the future. 
 
 Lieut. K. My Mary won't object. 
 
 Miss M. Well, 1 don't know that I shall. 
 
 Adm, Why, Miss Mary ! what has become of your reso 
 
 tion tomaiTy an admiral] have you forgotten Duncan 
 
 elson, Howe and JaiTis ! 
 
 Miss. M. [Giving her hand to Lieut. K.] They were 
 // lieutenants once, sir. 
 
 Ad7n. Come then, let us all shake hands upon this new 
 argain. 
 
 Miss M. [Giving her hand to Mrs? P.] Forgive m^^i 
 ross question. 
 
 Mrs. P. Forgive my crooked answer. 
 
 Adm. Tom, my boy, I'll make this lady as good a hus» 
 and as I can. 
 
 Mrs. P. And this lady w^ill be happy to be the means 
 
 restoring harmony between a good father and a son 
 hom she will never cease to regard. 
 
 Adm. Mary ! 
 
 Miss M. Aye, aye, sif. 
 
 Adm. I have resigned the command of you to my first 
 eutenant there. 
 
 Miss M. Sir, I shall do my best to obey his orders. 
 
 AAm. After all, there's nothing like sticking to the rules 
 )f the service ; you are scarcely more than a twenty gun 
 essel and have no right to be commanded by an admiral; 
 nd now ring the bell. [Lieut. K. rings. 
 
 Lieut K. i say sir, don't you agree with me that people 
 iliould marry those of a suitable aure ? 
 
 I V 
 
\ri 
 
 ,4^...u_ 
 
 i I 
 
 1 
 
 
 a 
 
 NAVAT. ENOAGEMENTl 
 
 (Acf! 
 
 Adm. T always said so ! 
 
 Lieut. K. You did, and so did I ! 
 
 Adm. That you did, I must admit. 
 
 LiRUT. K. embraces Miss M. — Admiral emhrat^ 
 Mrs. p. Short and Dennis enter l. at tame 1^ 
 ment and stare with astonishment. 
 
 Dem, [ To Short.] As they say in a sharp frost, it's fin 
 embracing weather, sir ! 
 
 Adm. Landlord ! 
 
 Short. \ Advancing l.] Dinner is quite ready, sir. 
 
 Adm, Why, I didn't order it ! 
 
 Short. No, sir — but I somehow felt sure you wouU 
 vant it. 
 
 Adm. Well ! as it happens, we do— and so, the battli 
 being over, the crew shall go to dinner. Let me, howeve 
 first hope to obtain an acknowledgment that there is nJ 
 exception to the golden rule [Britania*s rule,] that "Naval 
 Engagements," led by a British Admiral end backed bJ 
 British hands, must prove successful. 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT Tfll 
 FAL'L OF THE CURTAIN 
 
 SHO&Tr DbK5IS, 
 
 Li BUT K. Mis« M. Mm P. ADMitA>| 
 
 «.] IbI 
 
 7WI Ulll. 
 
mmmmt^^mmm 
 
 re you wouM 
 
 RS AT Tflf 
 
 i 
 
 ■ • 
 1 
 
 
■<*r; 
 
 'ft' : 
 
 'm' 
 
J< 
 
 LcikI 11 
 
 AVill 
 
 to 
 
WOOING ONE'S WIFR 
 
 \ s. 
 
 a iFarce, 
 
 IN ONE ACT. 
 
 JOHN MADD18()N ]\IORTON, Esq., 
 
 AUlHOU OP 
 
 Lnul 1110 Vive i^Itillin!<i', Throo Cuckoos, Mj Piei;imift lictsy, AVIkii' lli'it'i} 
 
 AVill tlit'ri''s i\ Way, Jolm I)<il)l)s, A Most UiMvairaiitaldc Iiitni^iiui, (iuiuj 
 
 to the Derby, Ymii- Life's in l}aii','or, Midiiiu'lit Wateli, 11 \ .iiiil (ox, 
 
 TiuiniK'teV's Weddiiiif, Done on Both bules, rooi I'illicoddy. Olil 
 
 Ijoue^ty, ^Omii; KntrUnid, Kin^'iiiid I, .My NVitV's Secttml I loor, 
 
 Wlio'dotliey take me lor .' Doulile-Bedded Hooni, MiUimi^' 
 
 lioliilav, Weddiuu' 15reiikl"a>t, Irish li'/er, Attie Sto.j, 
 
 AVIio's tliu Coiiii)oser i AVIio's my Husband .'' 
 
 Slasher and Craslier, I'rinceior an lloiir, Away 
 
 with Melamholy, Waiting' tor an Onniihus, 
 
 Betsy Baker, Who Stole the Pocket-Book .' 
 
 Two Boniiyeii^tles, l''roniViHa<j:c to Court, 
 
 Jjaiti ;• (Irimsliiiw, Baijshuw, and Bradshinv, 
 
 Bi!,'hts aiidWron;;3 of Women, Sent 
 
 to the Tower, Our Wife, Brother 
 
 Ben, Take Care of Dowb — , 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 
 LoNuox : J New Yoijk : 
 
 S A M U F. L F R E N C H. \ SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 PUBLISHER, I PUBLISKiaiS, 
 
 8 9, S T R A N D. I 122, NASSAU STREE P. 
 
' 
 
 I 
 
 Ml i n wooiNtJ one's wife. , ,, 
 Ji 1 I / f f ^* 
 
 First prrfonnr.d at the Royal Olympic Theatre (under 
 
 the Management of Messrs. RonsON & Emden^, 
 
 on 2Ut October^ 18G1. 
 
 .T'K cijbaratttrs. I 
 
 •J 
 
 MAJOPt KAKL VON WALSTEIN... Mr. 11. Neville. 
 
 BAUON MULDOUF Mr. G. Muukay. 
 
 COUNT MUFFKNIIAUSEN Mr. Houace Wigan. 
 
 MAX {a Servant) Mr. Franks. 
 
 BARONESS MULDORF Mrs. Leigh Murhay. 
 
 GERTRUDE Miss Hughes. 
 
 Baro!?.— -Drab long coat, faced with black velvet and trimmed 
 ■with lace, (the sleeve with large cuffs reaching only to the elbow,) 
 showing sliirt sleeves ; laced cravat ; full habit shirt, ovci 'uinging 
 the trunk breeches, which are of black velvet ; high black pei-uke ; 
 broad black velvet shoulder sword-belt and rapier ; black boots ; 
 broad brimmed hat with drab feather. 
 
 Count. — Crimson velvet coat, white satin breeches, silk stock- 
 ings and buff shoes, with white satin ties, auburn peruke, laoe 
 •cravat, &c. 
 
 Majou. — Scarlet coat, trimmed with silver and faced with blue ; 
 blue trunks, broad blue sword-belt, rapier, brown peruke, buff 
 toots, moustache, and lace cravat. 
 
 Max. — 8latccoat; trunks, trimmed with black; slate stockings, 
 and buff shoes. 
 
 Baronk-ss. — Brocade, open dress, with short sleeves ; stomacher, 
 Tvhite satin petticoat, ana full curls. 
 
 Gebtuude. — Green velvet riding coat, trimmed with gold Uce ; 
 pink or amber satin petticoat, hat and feather. 
 
 ,»^;nta.<ti ?■{;;■ 
 
.HM! V - ' 
 
 (M 
 
 Ml t!( 
 
 H 
 
 WOOING ONE'S WIFE! 
 
 Scene. — A well-furnished Room at an Hotel; door in c, 
 with entrance from R. u. E. ; door at l. 3 k. and l. 1 e; 
 doors at r. 3 E. ; at l. c. a French window with halconj/y 
 [practicable)^ a fire place [with fire lighted^ R. 2 E.) 
 table., R. c, chairs, <^c., ^c. ,,, ^,^^[ y„, 
 
 , Baroness seated at table and reading. Clock strikes 6. 
 
 fi 
 
 Baroness, [closing her book arid rising) Six o'clock and 
 not yet arrived ! What can possibly detain them ? 
 
 Count, [without, r. u. e.) Up stairs, you say? I'm 
 obliged to you. 
 
 Baroness. That silly conceited cousin of mine, Count 
 Muffenhausen. [to Count ivho enters at c.,from r.) Ah, 
 cousin ! [holding out her hand to him) is that you ? 
 
 Count. Well, upon mature consideration, I think I may 
 venture to say, it is. [kissing her hand) 
 
 Baroness. Pray take a seat. 
 
 Count. All things considered, I will, [sits l. of table) 
 
 Baroness. Well, any news? Our good king, the Great 
 Frederick is still with the army^ I suppose ? but I forget, 
 you arc not in the army! 
 
 Count. No, not quite— I mean, not at all; the f^ct is, 
 wlien I found that my king, my beloved king, was partial 
 to that sort of thing himself, I felt it wouldn't have been 
 becoming in me to cut him out, so all things considered, I 
 determined in the handsomest manner possible, to have 
 nothing at all to do with it. 
 
 JiAuoNKss. Ha, ha! Let's change the subject. 
 
 Count. Upon mature deliberation, suppose we do. I 
 don't know if you agree with me, cousin, but this said 
 
 J 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 city of Konlngsberg, strikes me as being the dullest and 
 most insipid locality in the whole Germanic Confederation! 
 
 Baroness. Well, do you know, cousin, I've been 
 gradiiiilly coming to that opinion for the last five minutes. 
 {cJu'cking a yawn) 
 
 Col NT. Well, all things considered, that's about the 
 rudest thing I've heard for a long time ; but, joking apart, 
 1 assure you it required all the esteem that I feel for your 
 excellent husband Baron Muldorf, to induce me to leave 
 Berlin, and accompany you here to Koningsberg. 
 
 Bauoness. I'm sure I didn't ask you. 
 
 Count. No, you didn't exactly ask rae, but a week ago 
 you told me you had received a letter from the Baron, 
 announcing his probable arrival at Dantzic in a few days ; 
 to which, you added, that you should like of all things to 
 give him an agreeable surprise by meeting him on the 
 road, only that a lady couldn't travel alone. Now, all 
 things considered, I looked upon that as a pretty broad 
 hint tiiat you wished me to escort you. 
 
 I^AkONESS. No such thing ! for I had already secured a 
 travel ling companion in Mademoiselle de-de- de Lin dcnbcrg. 
 [aside) Dear Gertrude ! I'm always forgetting her borrowed 
 name, [aloud) And between you and me, cousin, I am 
 half inclined to believe, ail things considered, and upon 
 mature deliberation, {imitating Count) that it was chiefly 
 on her account that you 
 
 Coi NT. No, no I [aside) I wonder where she is. [aloud) 
 T think you said the Baron had been absent for 
 
 BAi;f)NEss. More than three years. He accompanied 
 the embassy to Naples, which left Berlin at that time, ia 
 the capacity of entomologist. 
 
 Cor NT. En — to — ? 
 
 l>Ai;o:;Ess. Mologist ! 
 
 ( '( »i NT. Oh, ah ! [aside) All things considered, I haven't 
 ihe nu).st distant idea what that means, (aloud) Well, here 
 have \\c been for three entire days at tne principal hotel 
 in Koningsberg, and still no Baron. 
 
 Bauoness. But he will certainly arrive to-day. 
 
 Count. But, cousin, you were speaking just now of 
 your friend. Mademoiselle do Lindenberg — she's a fine 
 young woman. 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 in 
 
 Bakuness. a most charming person indeed ! » - " 
 
 CuuNT. Yes! I say, cousin, don't you think it's time 
 I was married? 
 
 Ba HON ESS. Why, at forty-five I certainly think you 
 might venture. 
 
 Count. Ah ! then there can't be any vert/ great risk at 
 forty-four J and if you would only just speak a word in my 
 favour. 
 
 Bakoness. To whom, pray? 
 
 Count. Can't you guess ? 
 
 Baroness. Not I ! 
 
 Count. Then, all things considered, perhaps I'd better 
 tell you ! Mademoiselle de Lindenberg ! I adore her, I 
 idolize her, in short, upon mature deliberation, I rather 
 like her. [rising and crossing behind to glass over Jireplace) 
 
 Baroness. Well, your selection is certainly creditable 
 to your taste, [aside) but rather unfortunate, considering 
 that she is already married^ but that is her secret, and I 
 must not divulge it. 
 
 Count. Then that's settled; you'll take the earliest 
 opportunity of expatiating on the amiability of my dis 
 position — the variety of my accomplishments, — the — no, 
 all things considered, my personal appearance speaks for 
 itself. You'll then extol ray gallantry ! let me implore 
 you to extol my gallantry. By the way, is there anything 
 in the world I can do for you? [aside) I particularly wish 
 her to extol my gallantry, [aloud suddenly) Shall I read 
 you the Dantzic Gazette of last week? [taking paper from 
 his pocket) 
 
 Baroness. No, no ! [rising and going, l.) 
 
 Count. Yes I will I [aside) She shall extol my gallantry. 
 (sits, R.) Here we have it! [reads) "Dantzic, October 4th. 
 We daily expect to have to announce the arrival in this 
 port of our ambassador and suite from the court of 
 Naples." 
 
 Baroness. You will doubtless find my husband's name 
 among the passengers. v 
 
 Count. Exactly, [reading) "Among the illustrious pas- 
 sengers we find the name of l^aron Muldorf, also that of 
 Major K. Von W " K. Von W ? let me see- 
 yes — it must be, no ! ah ! can it be — no, perhaps it's — 
 
 ir,- s ■; 
 
6 
 
 WOOING one's wipe. 
 
 ; 
 
 no! Well, all things considered, I don't know who 
 
 it is. '' Ati\il3 , ! 1 h 
 
 Baroness, {aside and smiling) I do ! 
 
 Count, (reading) "Major K. Von W , whose ex- 
 traordinary marriage by contract, under royal command, 
 nearly three yearg ago, excited so much attention among 
 the fashionable circles of Berlin." 
 
 Baroness. Yes I surely you remember ? 
 
 Count. I can't say I do I probably I was too young. 
 
 Baroness. What! three years ago? {theii/ rise and 
 advance) Then thus it was. On the very day of the 
 departure of the embassy, to which the major was diplo- 
 matically attached, the king expressed himself anxious to 
 reward his past services, and concealing his royal intentions, 
 he demanded, and of course obtained the major's signature 
 to a blank paper. The major took his departure for Naples, 
 where, in a few weeks afterwards, the aforesaid paper 
 followed him, but it was no longer a blank, it had become 
 neither more or less than a contract of marriage^ duly drawn 
 up and attested ; and under the major's name as one of the 
 contracting parties, there appeared that of " Gertrude Von 
 Steinberg," the youthful widow of a distinguished officer, 
 whom the major had never seen, but whose birth, beauty, 
 and fortune were unexceptionable. 
 
 Count, (r. c.) And now it seems, that the major is 
 returnirig to claim his wife, for I suppose she is his wife. 
 
 Baroness, (l. c.) Unquestionably! for on the very day 
 that the lady affixed ^er signature to the contract, the king 
 himself, as the major's proxy, led her to the altar of the 
 royal chapel, and the ceremony was then and there 
 performed. 
 
 Count. Ha, ha I a most extraordinary adventure indeed ! 
 but isn't Mademoiselle de Lindenberg visible to-day ? and 
 if not visible — why not visible? 
 
 Baroness. For the best of all reasons, she's not here ! 
 
 Count. Not here ! well, all things considered, I think 
 you might have mentioned that before. 
 
 Baroness. Unexpected business compelled Mademoi- 
 selle de Lindenberg to leave Koningsberg yesterday, for 
 Dantzic. 
 
 Count. For Dantzic? Upon mature deliberation^ 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 7? 
 
 accr, 
 luty, 
 
 I've important business there myself. Good morning I 
 (going) 
 
 Baroness. But I expect her to return every moment. 
 
 Count. Oh ! then all things considered, I'll stop where 
 I am. {about to seat himself) No I won't, I'll go and meet 
 her. Don't be offended at my leaving you — don't forget to 
 impress upon her the excessive amiability of my disposi- 
 tion; and above all, extol my gallantry. Let me implore 
 you to extol my gallantry. Good morning. 
 
 Exit hurriedly^ at c. to R. 
 
 Baroness. Ha, ha! poor cousin Mufifenhausen, if he only 
 knew what I dare not tell him ; but no ! Gertrude was 
 determined to form her own estimate of her husband's 
 character before she made herself known to him ; hence, 
 her sudden departure from Dantzic yesterday, on hearing 
 that the embassy was hourly expected ; and now, she is 
 doubtless snugly seated in the same diligence with the 
 major, who little suspects that his fair travelling companion 
 is his own wife. Ah ! here she comes. 
 
 Enter Gertrude, c.from r., in travelling cloak and hood, 
 which she hastily and impatiently throws off. 
 
 Well, Gertrude, you've returned at last — but how is it 
 that you are alone ? 
 
 Gertrude, (l.c.) Oblige me byrestraiuingyourcuriosity 
 till I've laid in sufficient breath to gratify it. 
 
 Baroness, [very calmly) Be it so ! [sitting doirn, and 
 quietly twiddling her thumbs) 
 
 Gert. Well! — instead of sitting down and twiddling 
 your thumbs, — which is the most irritating thing in the 
 world to me, I really think, under the circumstances^ you 
 might condescend to shew a little impatience ! 
 
 Baroness, {very quietly) I am — all impatience I 
 
 Gert. You look like it. 
 
 Baroness. Ha, ha I Come, tell me ! — where are the 
 gentlemen ? 
 
 Gert. {sulkily) I left the men busy with their baggage, 
 
 and made the best of my way here — in the rain ! I am 
 
 rather surprised you haven't noticed how wet I am! 
 
 (shaking her dress) ^,^^,^. , .^ ^,f 
 
 , Bahoness. Ha, ha I -/ ,t;)* 
 
8 
 
 WOOING one's wife. 
 
 .7. 
 
 Geut. Don't laugh ! If T ever see so much as a smile 
 on your countenance for the next three months, I shall be 
 reluctantly compelled to cut your acquaintance. 
 
 Baroness. Come, Gertmde, don't be ridiculous ! Some- 
 thing has happened ! 
 
 Gert. [solemnly) You may say that I 
 
 Baroness. Come ! let me hear what it is ? 
 
 Gert. Then prepare for a shock! 1 have made an 
 awful discovery 1 
 
 Baroness. Where? 
 
 Gert. Tn the diligence, {very solemnly) 
 
 Baroness, [imitating) You don't say so! Ha, ha I 
 Concerning whom? 
 
 Gert. My husband. 
 
 Baroness. I see ! [smiling) You didn^t find him quite 
 so handsome as you expected — eh ? 
 
 Gert. Oh, the wretch h good-looking enough ; but I'm 
 dreadfully afraid that he's — that he's 
 
 Baroness. What? 
 
 Gert. (in an undertone) A little wild. 
 
 Baroness, [luith affected concern) You don't say so ! 
 . Gert. It's a melancholy fact: he's very naughty, indeed! 
 (rer?/ solemnly) He made love to me in the diligence! 
 
 Baroness. Well — surely there's nothing very improper 
 in a man's making love to his own wife! 
 
 Gert. But you forget that the man didn't happen to 
 know I was his wife ! 
 
 Baroness. True; but finding himself in a public carriage 
 with a young and pretty woman, he naturally entered into 
 conversation. 
 
 Gert. [abruptly) He never once opened his lips. 
 
 Baroness. Oh I Then perhaps he occasionally stole a 
 glance ? 
 
 Gert. He kept both his eyes shut the whole journey. 
 
 Baroness. You don't mean to say he was asleep? 
 
 Gert. No, 1 rather suspect he was wide aivake^ for 
 {again in a very mysterious undertone) he squeezed my 
 hand in such a way ! 
 
 Baroness. Well, even that might possibly have occurred 
 hy accident. 
 
 Gert. Yes, but I don't think it could occur Jive times 
 
WOOING 0Xi:8 WU'E. 
 
 9* 
 
 by accident! yes, five times! Oh, if he hadn't been my 
 husbcaiid ! {instinctively moving her Jingers as if in the 
 action of scratching) 
 
 Bakoness. By the bye, tallying of husbands reminds- 
 me of mine ; what was the Baron about ? 
 
 Geut. Oh, he was asleep. 
 
 Baroness. Dreaming of me^ no doubt. 
 
 Gert. Very likely, for he snored most dreadfully. 
 
 Baroness. And now, of course you mean to make 
 yourself known to your "naughty" husband ; and after a 
 short conjugal sermon on your part, and promises to be a 
 good hoy for the future on his part, you'll bring this little 
 domestic drama to a conclusion, with the brief but pathetic 
 words, "Come, hubby, kiss and be friends." Ha, ha ! 
 
 Gert. I beg leave to say that I've no intention of the 
 sort ; I'm determined to wear the mask a little longer, and 
 when I'm convinced that my husband is a good-for-nothing 
 fellow, as I'm sure he is, and that I am a poor, betrayed, 
 miserable wife, as I flatter .-lyself I am, [crying) then I 
 WILL bring the drama to a conclusion — and a terrible one 
 it will be. [tragically] 
 
 Baroness. Ha, ha ! I see you've made up your mind 
 for a bit of tragedy. 
 
 G ert. Yes, and therefore you must allow me to keep up 
 my character in the farce. So remember I am Mademoiselle 
 de Lindenberg till further orders. Hush ! 
 
 Baron, [without) This way, my dear major, this way. 
 
 Baron Muldorf and Major von Walstein enter at c. 
 from R., in travelling dresses. 
 
 Baroness. My dear husband ! 
 
 Muldorf. My dear wife! [embracing her) Let mo look 
 at you. She's prettier than ever ! Another kiss, [kissing 
 her again) 
 
 Major, [aside) Really, that sort of thing looks very 
 comfortable — at a distance. 
 
 MuLD. (to two Men who enter at c. carrying packages) 
 Holloa, holloa ! Mind what you're about ! 
 
 Baroness. What have you got there ? 
 
 MuLD. I flatter myself, one of the most valuable col- 
 lections of reptiles ever yet made. I've got such a spider 
 for you, my dear — as long as that ! {measuring at least 
 
il i' 
 
 i 
 I 
 
 ! I 
 ■ I 
 
 16 
 
 WOOING one's wife. 
 
 hdlfayard — ^Aen fo Men) Gently with tliose lizards! I'm 
 very particular about my lizards — take them in there I 
 
 Enter Mkn with package^ c. from r. 
 
 And now, my love, allow me to {to 2nd Man) 
 
 Zounds — mind wliat you're about ! You don't know the 
 treasure you've got in your hands — it's myyoung crocodile. 
 (Men frightened^ and about to drop the j^f^ckage) Don't 
 be afraid — he's not alive ! I stuifed him myself. Go 
 along! Ma-s follows the other , l. 3 e. 
 
 Now, my t^eav^ ; I was going to say, allow me to present 
 to you my excellent friend, Major Karl Von WalsteinI 
 
 Majok. {to Bakoness) Madam, I am proud to — to — 
 [suddenly recognising Gertrude, who is close to Baroness 
 — aside) Zounds ! My travelling companion in the dili- 
 gence! {turnirfc a.:i"'i\<i suddenly and hiding his face with 
 his hat) i..u.;;:,^v. . ./ 
 
 Gert. [aside) The <v.*!tch ^aw me! ; '* 
 
 MuLD, {to M.A.iovC\ Wk -it'-' the matter, Major? - 
 
 Major. Nothir.^. Tha*- i', ■' adde^ after another glance 
 
 at Gertrude) — it's sue! — ;t'c O' .i^'edly she! 
 
 ■' MuLD. [to Baroness) As I was saying, my dear, 
 
 this is Major Karl Von Walstcin, equally distinguished 
 
 in the camp and in the cabinet — a soldier, and a 
 
 Major, {aside to him) That'll do ! ';' 
 
 MuLD. Whose acquaintance, strange to say, althougli' 
 attached to the same embassy, I had no opportunity of 
 making till the very day of our departure from Nai)lesl . jj 
 Baroness. Major Walstein, you are most welcome.. 
 (Major bows) And now, my dear husband, permit me, 
 in return, to present to you a very dear friend of mine — 
 Mademoiselle dc Lindenbcrg. (pointing to Gertrude) 
 
 MuLD. {bowing) Mademoiselle — I — [looking at her andt 
 starting — looks at her again — then aside to Major) Major!' 
 Major, (pretending to be looking at pictures on the wall) 
 Well I 
 
 Muld. Look there I 
 
 Major. Where ? {looking in opposite direction) 
 Muld. Don't you remember? ' "''"' " , 1 :« 
 
 -• Major. What? '\' '"' . | § 
 
 Muld. That lady? ' " 
 
 Major. Which lady? '^'^ 
 
 \ 
 
-'^ 
 
 wool NO ONES WIFE. 
 
 11 
 
 .ffr 
 
 K 
 
 »»' 
 
 MuLD. Pshaw! (aloud, to Gehtiwdh) Mademoiselle! 
 Surely, I can't be ini.stakcii I Had not we the pleasure 
 of your society in the diligence ? 
 
 Gert. [with pretended surprise) The diligence? Oh, 
 true! I think I remember! 
 
 Major, [aside) I'm horribly afraid she does ! licr.l'y, 
 this is excessively awkward; but perliaps she won't 
 recognize me. [suddenly catching a severe look from 
 <jrERTRUDE) Zounds ! — wliat a look ! I'd give a trifle to 
 be well out of this. I never felt so thoroughly uncom- 
 fortable in all my life — never ! 
 
 MuLD. I must beg to apologize, Mademoiselle, for 
 having been so ungallant as to fall asleep in the presence 
 of a lady; but, doubtless, my friend the Major here 
 
 Major, (very quickly) I was asleep too — very fast 
 asleep ; indeed, I never recollect being so excessively fast 
 asleep in all my life — never! 
 
 Gert. [satirically) Major Walstein certainly did not 
 impress me with any favourable idea of his conversational 
 powers I 
 
 Major. No — I never do talk in my sleep. The fact is, 
 the long sea voyage — and then the journey — and the dust 
 — and the heat — and — [aside) I had better hold my 
 tongue ! 
 
 MuLD. Well, Major, I am surprised at you! You, 
 ■whom I have so often heard quoted by the Neapolitan 
 ladies as the pink of politeness — the very cream of 
 gallantry ! 
 
 Major, [aside to him) Hold your tongue — do I j 
 
 Gert. [aside) So — so — husband of mine I 
 
 Muld. That an old married man like me should in- 
 dulge in an hour's nap, is excusable; but you 
 fine, smart, dashing young bachelor — 
 
 Gert. A bachelor? 
 
 Major. Yes — I am a bachelor — and, I presume, so are 
 you. I mean, that hearing you addressed as made- 
 moiselle, I naturally infer that i 
 
 Gert. That I «m a demoiselle? — exactly so! (Major 
 and Gertude salute each other profoundly) 
 
 Baroness, [aside) This is really becoming original; 
 but for Gertrude's sake, it must not be carried too far I 
 
 -you, 
 
 a 
 
12 
 
 WOOING ONL's wife. 
 
 MuLD. Come — suppose we think about something to 
 •cat — I'm as ravenous as a shark I Talking of sharks 
 reminds me of my young crocodile — I'll go and take a 
 pct'i) at him — I wouldn't have the lovely young creature 
 injured for the world. Come along, ray dear! Adieu, 
 Major, for the present I 
 
 Uaroness. (to Gertrude) Do oblige me by giving 
 the necessary orders for the supper. 
 
 MuLD. Come along. Allow rae I (offers his hand to 
 Baroness) Exeunt j l. 3 e. 
 
 Major, (after a little hesitation) Allow me ! (presents 
 his hand to Gertrude, who makes him a very low curtsey 
 and goes up to c, stops and darts a severe look at him^ 
 then exit, c. to R.) Zounds, what a look I I've offended that 
 lady — it must be evident to the meanest capacity that I've 
 offended that lady ! But how the deuce was I to imagine 
 that — ? I took her for a milliner, or a milliner's assistant, 
 and consequently, as a matter of course, I — I dare say it 
 was wrong — very wrong, but it's a habit I've got. She's 
 pretty — very pretty — in short, so pretty, that I should 
 probably fall over head and cars in love with her, if I 
 wasn't occasionally troubled with a sort of a kind of an 
 indistinct recollection of having been already married, 
 sometime or other, somehow or other, to somebody or 
 other. Ah ! (sighing) What a peculiar way some kings 
 have of rewarding their subjects. Look at tne! J came 
 in for a slice of the royal favour — and what was it ? I 
 was coolly informed three years ago that I was married — 
 that I actually had a wife without being in the slightest 
 degree aware of it ! Married by proxy to a woman I had 
 ' never seen — and never wish to see. Pshaw! I'll have 
 this absurd marriage annulled I And if the king won't 
 do it, I'll at once retire into private life, and leave his 
 majesty to govern the country himself. We'll see how 
 he'll like that. B-r-r! (shivering) How cold I am! No 
 wonder. I'm standing in a wet coat all this time. Here, 
 Max! Max! 
 
 Enter Max, cfrom tu 
 
 ' -la my room ready ? 
 
 Max. Not quite, major I 
 
WOOING ON 1:8 WIFK. 
 
 1 •» 
 
 Major. I muHt sec tliis MadenioisoUc de Llii(lo<rl)eig 
 again, if it's only to ask licr to forgive me for liuviiig — 
 but as I said before, liovv the deuce was I to know — I 
 have it I I'll tell her it's a habit I've got. Uhiva-ing 
 agnin) Oh, I can't stand this any longer! [to Max) Dring 
 mo another coat ! 
 
 Max. I havn't began to unpack yet, sir. 
 
 E.rit^ c. to u. 
 
 Majok. Then make basse about it. She surely will 
 fori!;ivc me. I'll plead for pardon with sueli warmth — 
 Kucli — Oil, tliis won't do at all! {taJcim/ off his coat) Here, 
 Max, j)ut this coat to the fire, and bring me another — 
 make liaste! (flhiging coat to Max, who re-cnlrrs^ c. 
 from K.) I believe every man is at liberty to make 
 himself at home at an hotel — so here goes ! [scats himself 
 close to fire and begins to poke it) This is what I call 
 comfortable! [putting his feet on the Jiob, then takes the 
 bellows and begins blowing the fire) 
 
 Enter Gkutrudp, c.froni 11. 
 
 Gekt. [looking about) Not here? Ah! [seeing Major) 
 
 ^Iajok. [singing as he blows the fire) La, la, hi, la, la I 
 {siuhlcnl// perceives (tEKTRUDE, jumps up^ and hides the 
 bellows behind him) Mademoiselle — I — [keejung up a suC' 
 cession of bows — aside) A pretty figure I must cut ! 
 
 CrERT. (l. c.) Allow mc to retire 
 
 Major, [quicklg) Not on my account I beg. [putting 
 out his hand with the bellows — hast/lg puts it behind him 
 again — aside) Confound the bellows ! [not knouu'/tg what 
 to do with bellows, at last fiings them under the table) 
 Permit me, mndenioisollc, to apologise for tliis — rather 
 peculiar costume — but tlic fact is — it's a habit I've got. 
 [aside) Or rather, a habit I havenU got. Why the deuce 
 dcH'sn't Max inai<c haste with that coat I 
 
 Gert. No apology, sir, I beg, the costume is rather 
 becoming, ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Major, You're very kind ! [taking his gloves off' the tcd)le 
 and putfing them on unconsciouslg— sees (Jerihude smile 
 — drags gloves off' again, and tries to cram them into his 
 coat pocket — reco'lccts he has got no coai on, and fiings 
 gloves on table) , ,, - ; i . 
 
 8 
 
 m 
 
 •I 
 
 i 
 
14 
 
 wool NO onf/s wife. 
 
 C.iKRT. (aside) x\fter ftll, it's only my Imsband ! (aloud) 
 TIk! wcntlicr lia.s certainly been very warm to day. 
 
 Major. Very — quite oi)j)re8sive I (shivering again, tlini 
 aside) Why the devil doesn't he bring that coat! (aloud) 
 Do you propose remaining long in this room — I mean, in 
 this city, mademoiselle ? 
 
 Gkut. It is quite uncertain, sir. 
 
 Major. Just my case, (aside) I'd give a trifle for that 
 coat I 
 
 Gi:rt. I may remain in it a few days longer. 
 
 Major. 8o may I. 
 
 Gkrt. And yet I may leave it to-morrow. 
 
 Major. Just like me. 
 
 Gkrt, Which road do you take, sir? 
 
 Major. Yours, medemoiselle. (aside) I'll kill that 
 fellow, if he doesn't bring that coat. 
 
 Gi:rt. For my part, I shall probably embark for a 
 foreign county. 
 
 Major. Fond of travelling? My case exactly! 
 
 Gert. Most likely for Kamstchatka, sir. (severeh/) 
 
 Major. I've serious thoughts of settling there myself. 
 
 Gert. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Major. Don't laugh, mademoiselle ! (aside) I'll go it a 
 bit, and warm myself, (aloud) Mademoiselle, I see it all, 
 you have discovered my secret, {striking his hand violently 
 on his breast — aside) I'm getting warmer ! (aloud) You 
 have discovered the all powerful motive that would have 
 induced me to follow you even to Kamstchatka. though, 
 I assure you, I had no serious thoughts of settling there 
 ■whatever, (aside) I'm getting decidedly warmer 1 (aloud) 
 In short, madam, a motive that — excuse these tears. 
 (feeling for his coat pocket) I say, excuse these tears ! 
 (suddenly remembering he is withont his coat — aside) Why 
 the devil don't he bring that coat! 
 
 Gert. (aside) Well, it isn't every wife who has such 
 desperate love made to her by her husband ! 
 
 Major. But no! these tears shall «o^ flow ! Oh! when 
 I first saw you in the diligence — that fatal diligence, 
 where, intoxicated with your beauty, though upon my 
 soul, I didn't know who you were — I repeat when I first 
 — I can't go on I tears choke my utterance — I say tears 
 
 - ''s 
 
 '1' 
 ■ 't 
 
 .4$ 
 
WOOING ONK^S WIFE. 
 
 15 
 
 ! (aloud) 
 iiy. 
 
 '/(fhi, then 
 ! {aloud) 
 mean, in 
 
 c for that 
 
 kill that 
 rk for a 
 
 'rch/) 
 e iiiyKclf. 
 
 11 go it a 
 see it all, 
 
 violently 
 '■id) You 
 lild have 
 
 though, 
 ng tJiere 
 
 [aloud) jj 
 ic tears. 
 D tears ! 
 le) Why 
 
 las such 
 
 i! when 
 Hgence, 
 pon my 
 n I first 
 ay tcai-s 
 
 [feeling again for his coat pocket — aside) Will that 
 
 fellow never bring that coat; (snatches GiAi'mvin:' a hand- 
 kerchief out of her hand and wipes his eyes) 'Tis past! 
 when I say it I allude to the paroxysm ! [trying to put 
 handkerchief into his coat pocket) I beg pardon, (restores 
 handkerchief to her) And now, since you arc insensible to 
 the pangs 1 feel — pangs that — that — in short, pangs— all 
 that remains for mo but to seek out some obscure comer 
 — droop my head and die ! — a pleasant existence, ma'am ! 
 
 Gkrt. (aside) I could annihilate the mau with the 
 thunder of my indignation ! [aloud) Perhaps^ sir, when 
 you are a little calmer. 
 
 Major. Calmer 1 I never shall becalm again! My 
 heart's in a flame ! my head's in a blaze — (aside) I'm 
 getting quite cold again ! (aloud) Ah — when you are near 
 me can you imagine that I can be cool ! (aside) Where 
 the devil is that coat, (aloud) But I see how it is I I have 
 a rival ! something tells mo I have a rival. {ve7'y violently 
 — aside) I'm getting warmer again ! 
 
 (rERT. (aside) A rival ! Thank you, husband, for the 
 hint! Now for a tiny bit of vengeance I (aloud) Oh, sir 
 — I don't — I can't deny that there i^ oiLe— that — that — 
 (with pretended modesty) * 7 ' ,.' 
 
 Major. That you love ! I'll kill him ! ! ' 
 
 Gert. One that I am about to marry ! My pa and ma 
 insist upon it ! 
 
 Major. I'll kill your pa and ma! I'll kill your grand- 
 father ! grandmother! aunts! uncles! I'll destroy the 
 whole family rathev than see you married t:) — to — what's 
 his odious name ? 
 
 Gert. (aside) True ! What is his odious name ? 
 
 Count. (W/Aom^) Very well; you needn'ttrouble yourself I 
 
 Gert. (aside) Ah ! (very quickly) Ilis name is Count 
 Muffenhausen ! 
 
 Major. Count who ? 
 
 Count, (without^ r. u. e.) I know my way up-stairs! 
 
 Major. That's he ! that's his voice ! I never heard it 
 before, and I'll swear to it again ! 
 
 Gert. (aside) There'll be a frightful disturbance! 
 (aloud) Oh, sir, we mustn't be seen together — consider 
 . tjour peculiar costume. 
 
!■! 
 
 u 
 
 .V 
 
 WOOING ONKS WIFE 
 
 Major. Pcculiai? Oh, true I yes I (^aside) Sixteen coats, 
 the very leant, mul eaii't get one ! 
 
 (Jkkt. Retire, I be^ ! 1 implore I 
 
 Ma.iou. I >vill ! I'll go in here! {goes to door, r. 1e.) 
 , (iKUT. That's my room, — you can't go in there! 
 
 Ma,(«ui. Don't say I can't, or I ivilU 
 
 (iKKT. Here's this balcony I make haste, {throios open 
 window, L. c, showing balcony without) 
 
 Ma.iou. Very well! {going to window and suddenly 
 stopping) Holloa I it's pouring with rain I 
 
 Gi:uT. Nevermind! make haste I 
 
 Major, (aside) A man with sixteen coats obliged to 
 stand under a water spout in his shirt sleeves ! — pleasant 
 {goes out upon balcony, closing window — then suddenly re- 
 opening it) You don't happen to have an umbrella ? {dis- 
 appears again) 
 
 Enter Count, c.from r. 
 
 Count, {wiping his coat as he enters) There's no mis- 
 take about this I 
 
 Gekt. Dear me, does it rain? i 
 
 Count. "Well, all things considered, I should say it 
 does — rather ! 
 
 Gek r. {aside) Well, there's a gentleman on the balcony 
 that requires a little cooling ! {aloud) But it seems to have 
 ceased ! 
 
 Count. Of course it has ! It didn't rain a drop while I 
 
 was in the house — it began to rain the moment I left the 
 
 house— kept on raining while I was out of the house, and 
 
 left ort' raining as soon as I got into the house ! but how 
 
 J is it, mademoiselle, that I didn't meet you on the road? 
 
 jj (Jkkt. I rode back ! 
 
 Count. I walked back ! 
 
 Gkut. That accounts for it ! 
 
 Count. Well, all things considered, I should say it does! 
 ^ Geut. (r. c, aside) Now, then, to try and excite my bus- 
 band's jealousy ! {looking towards window, and in a loud 
 and commiserating tone to Count) Dear, dear, what a state 
 you arc in to be sure ! 
 
 Count. {c.,aside) My Cousin the Baroness has evidently 
 been speaking to her about me ! {aloud) I am in a state 1 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 17 
 
 Gert. You look as if you were wet through! {with 
 retended concern) ^ 
 
 Count. I feel as if I was I but the firo of your eyes will 
 ^o«n dry my garments I (aside) That's not bad ! all things 
 •onsiclcieJ that isn't at all bad! (aloud) But don't be 
 ilarined, mademoiselle, I'm not a rheumatic subject — bo- 
 sides, I've desired the waiter to bring me a dry coat ! ( )li, 
 [mam'sellc, the angelic sympathy you have evinced for my 
 Idamp state, induces me to hope that the time has come 
 to speak out! 
 . i:kt. (aside) Now it's coming! I hope he's listening I 
 \(loi)kin<j towards window — then aloud) 1 beg your pardon, 
 ' sir, I (iidn't exactly hear I 
 
 Count, (aside) I'll try again! (m a louder tone) the 
 time has come for me to speak out I 
 
 (ii;kt. (pretending not to hear) I see how it is — you've, 
 got a cold I * 
 
 Count. No I hav'nt ! 
 CiKKT. Then, why speak so low? 
 
 Count. Low? — (aside) I'll try again ! (shouting) The 
 time has come for me to speak out ! 
 GmiT. (speaking verij loud) That's better I I can Ljar 
 
 * • 
 
 lUNT. (aside) All things considered, I should think 
 bi.. could ! (aloud) and may I venture to hope? 
 
 (ii.HT (putting her Jiand to her ear) Sir? 
 
 (j)UNT. (shouting) ]\lay I venture to liope.-' (aside) 
 She's liard of hearing! 
 
 (JicuT. (aaide) Now that he has fully answered my 
 purpose, I must get rid of him ! 
 
 Count. You won't doom me to despair? (tendcrlg — 
 Gkkti'.udi: again puts her hand to her ear) You won't doom 
 me to despair? (shouting at the top of his voice — then 
 aside) I shall crack my u})per notes presently I 
 
 CrKiiT. Oh, sir, excuse my faltering accents (screaming 
 out) but — 
 
 Count (aside) What can she mean by screaming out 
 in that way ? (aloud) Sparc yourself tlie rest ! and may I 
 inform the Baron ? m.ay I speak to him about you know 
 what? (tenderly — Geutkuui: again puts her hand to her, 
 ear) — about you know what ! (shouting) *■ ' 
 
 m 
 
j 
 
 i i 
 
 , W. i 
 
 18 
 
 WOOING one's wife. 
 
 T 
 
 Gert. Yes, yes I now got 
 
 Count. I fly! (aside) Well, I little thought of marry- 
 ing a (leafy ! [bowing] You'r most devoted I 
 
 Gert. Sir ? [same action) 
 
 Count, [shrieking) Your most devoted I (aside) I 
 shan't be able to speak for a month! Exit, c. to r. 
 
 The Major immediately re- enters from window— at the 
 same moment Waiter enters at c. with the Count's 
 coat on his arm. 
 
 Major. Thank ye (taking coat and pushing it on) 
 
 Waiter. But, sir — sir — 
 
 Major. It's all right! go along! (putting Waiter 
 out at c. 
 
 Gert. (aside) I know he's heard every word! he's 
 perfectly pale with fury ! 
 
 Major. — So, Mademoiselle! — not a word! I've heard 
 every syllable ! yes, in spite of the cautious undertone in 
 which you both spoke ! 
 
 Gert. (aside) Undertone! why Ae must be deaf ! 
 
 Major. You love that man ! I mean that Count 
 Stuffin — something or other ! 
 
 Gert. I never said I did I 
 
 Major. But you're going to marry him ! 
 
 Gert. Well, sir! he liappens to be the first gentleman 
 who has proposed to me ! 
 
 Major. No such thing ! / propose to you — I'll marry 
 you to-moirow — to-diiy — any day in the week — every 
 day in the week ! 
 
 Gert. (aside) The monster ! this is too much ! 
 
 Majok. (siiddodi/) I mean I would if I could! (aside) 
 I must not ^o too tar ! (aloud) I repeat, I would if I 
 could — but the king is a foe to marriage ! — the tyrant ! — 
 he contends that a good officer ought to be perfectly 
 satisfied witli a mother — the despot! Jiut I'll appeal to 
 him, provided you will delay this hated marriage with 
 Count Muilin — Stuliin — you know! — for there's nothing 
 so appalling — I say appalling as an ill-assorted marriage ! 
 
 (tkkt. (with intention] locally one would imagine you 
 spoke from experience ! a widower perhaps ? 
 
 Major. I wish I was! 
 
 m 
 
wooixG one's wife. 
 
 19 
 
 of marry- 
 
 (aside) I 
 itj c. to R. 
 
 w—at the 
 e Count's 
 
 t on) 
 
 Waiter 
 
 3rd! he's 
 
 vc heard 
 ertone in 
 
 eaf! 
 
 it Count 
 
 mtleman 
 
 marry 
 -every 
 
 {aside) 
 
 vu if r 
 
 rant ! — 
 orfoctly 
 ])eal to 
 ?e with 
 jothing 
 rriage ! 
 inc you 
 
 Gert. {aside) There's a bnite I 
 
 Majok. {recollecting himself) No, of course I didn't 
 mean that ! — because, luckily, I'm not married ! I say 
 luckily — because, what is marriage? An imposition!— a 
 trap baited with a few sweets in the foreground, and lots 
 of bitters in the background! Look at my friend the 
 jBaron, for instance — three years absent from his wife — 
 comes home — hopes she's pretty well — embraces her — 
 all comfortable enough, I confess — but where, where are 
 his affections rect% placed? On his wife? No; on his 
 young crocodile ! 
 
 Gert. {aside) There's some truth in that ! 
 
 Major. I'll give you another in.stance ! {aside) my 
 tI own ! {aloud) A friend of mine at Naples, three years ag<», 
 was shamefully, barbarously entrapped into a marriage — 
 a marriage by contract — with a woman he had never even 
 heard of— a widow! — probably old enough to be his 
 grandmother ! and ugly as a Gorgon ! 
 
 Gkkt. {aside) I shall do something dreadful, I'm sure 
 I shall. 
 
 Major. Poor devil — if you had only heard him groan 
 whenever the old lady was mentioned — I've seen the poor 
 fellow turn perfectly blue ! 
 
 Gert. {aside) I shall assassinate him presently, I know 
 I shall! it's lucky for him I haven't got my scissors ! 
 {aloud) Oh, sir, your description of the wedded state 
 «j. **" frightens me! 
 
 ]\Iaj()k. T! •■■ invent any excuse to delay your marriage 
 with Count Stuflin— Stuffin — there is something else, but 
 I can't remember it ! 
 
 liAiioNESs. {without, door l. u. e.) Very well, IJaron, 
 you'll find me with Mademoiselle de Lindenborg! 
 
 Gert. ]\ly cousin ! oh, sir, leave me I 
 
 Major. On one condition — that you grant me another 
 interview — there {pointing ojf] c. to n.) at the cud 
 of the corridors! I can easily scale tiie window by 
 means of the trrllis work from the garden ! in t(Mi niiwutes 
 I shall be at my post, and that handkerchief {pointing to 
 one in Gertrude*s hand) dropped from that balcony 
 (pointing to balcony) we'll tell me that you consent to 
 hear me — and then will devise some means of defeating 
 

 fl 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 t 
 
 s 
 
 
 )P 
 
 I"- 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 fl 
 
 20 
 
 WOOING one's wipe. 
 
 the pretensions of this odious Count Muffin — Guffin— 
 Stuffin — I forget the rest of him ! 
 
 Geut. Well, but {about to protest) 
 
 Major. Thanks, thanks I I am your shive for ever I 
 
 Runs outy c. to u. 
 Gert. (ImitattngY^ I am youp slave for ever !" Surely 
 never did husband adore a wife half so much, and yet if I 
 were only to speak one word — one little word, he'd turn 
 blue again ! but I won't \ no — its too amusing and 
 (sighing) too agreeable \— [suddenly) and yet he's a 
 shocking man — a very naughty man indeed ! 
 
 Enter Baroness at door l. u. e. 
 
 MuLD. Well Gertrude — I suppose the grand discovery 
 has taken place, eh ? 
 
 Geut. Not a bit of it! No! I'm still adored — 
 idolized ! and by my husband too ; he has no young 
 crocodile to stand between me and his affections I 
 
 Hauoness. Then why not confess the fact? 
 
 (lEKT. Because the fiction is too agreeable I 
 
 J^AKONKss. Then you love him? 
 
 Geut. Yes, that I do — a little ! 
 
 l^ARONESS And you think he loves you? 
 
 ({i:kt. Think! Think f — Be good enough to look out 
 of tluit window and tell me what you see ? 
 
 Baroness, (going to window) It's so dark I can scarcely 
 see anything! 
 
 Geut. Then I must contrive to make you hear some- 
 thing. Will you oblige me by giving a little "ahem? 
 
 l^AKONEss. Certainly ! [turning towards balcont/) Ahem ! 
 
 Major [loithout) Aliem ! (Baroness starfa back) 
 
 Geut. Don't flatter yourself! — that "ahem" was'nt 
 meant for you. 
 
 Baroness, [looking out of window again) Now I look 
 again I think I can see 
 
 Gert. A man? exactly I but bless you, that's nothing 
 to what you shall see ! Now, be good enough to drop 
 your liaudUiTrhief out of the window. 
 
 Baronk.ss. Tliank you ; I'd rather not. 
 
 (Jert. Then take mma. [throwing her handkerchief to , 
 ihe Baroni:ss, who drops it out of the window) Is it gone ? ; 
 
woiNo one's wife. 
 
 21 
 
 Baroness. Yes ! 
 
 Gkkt. Well — the man picks it up? 
 
 Bakoness. Yes! 
 
 Gekt. Tlic 7nan devours it with kisses? 
 
 Bakoness. Yes! — and — "what is he about now? he's 
 making fr.intic endeavours to climb up the side of the 
 house. 
 
 Gert. Is he? then it's time / took a peep ! (going to 
 window) Yes! there he goes up the trellis work— step 
 by step — gently, gently ! one — two — three — down he 
 goes; but he'll try again! I thought so! one — two — 
 three — four — down again! Once more? I knew he 
 would ! ha, ha, ha ! 
 ^ Baroness. What does that mean ? 
 * Gert. It means Baroness ; that it is'nt ever)'' man who 
 would clamber up the side of a house at the risk of his 
 neck for the sake of five minutes' conversation with his 
 wife ! you'd never get the Baron to do it, unless you had 
 his young crocodile in your arms to tempt him up ; ha, ha, 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Baroness. Now, I see your plan — you mean to bring 
 your husband to your feet. 
 
 Gert. Exactly ! 
 
 Baroness. Then, suddenly discovering yourself — 
 
 G ert. Overwhelm him with my reproaches ! 
 
 Baroness. Crush him with your indignation. 
 
 Gert. Annihilate him with my , but lor! there's 
 
 the poor man hanging on by the treUis work all this time ! 
 llrt ! iia ! ha ! Buns off^ c. to R. 
 
 Mlld. {icitfiout) Pooh ! don't talk nonsense, sir ! 
 
 Enter Baron from door, l. 2 e. 
 
 Baroness. What's the matter, Baron? 
 
 i\IuLD. I don't wish to alarm you, but from present 
 appearances I think the chances are that your cousin 
 MufFenhausen will soon have to be measured for a straight 
 waistcoat. He rushed into my room just now like u Avild 
 man, upsets my lizards — hugs mo in his arms — sits down 
 on my young crocodile, says he going to marry Made- 
 moiselle de Lindenberg — that he's perfectly aware of her 
 little infirmity — mumbles out something about laying iu a 
 
ill 
 
 n 
 
 WOOING one's wife. 
 
 stock of ear trumpets — asks my consent, and then rushes 
 out again ! [noise without) Ah ; here he comes; just look 
 at him I 
 
 Enter Count hurriedly, v. from r. 
 
 Count, (seem^ Bauon) Ah! {grasps liim by the arm — 
 
 then aside to him in a hoarse cracked voice) You heard 
 
 •'hat I said just now about Mademoiselle de Lindenberg? 
 
 MuLD. (l.) Halloa! you've lost your voice ! 
 
 Count, (c, aside) I knew I should ! {aloud) I retract 
 every word I said — I apologize for embracing you — I beg 
 your crocodile's pardon for sitting down on you — I mean 
 your pardon for sitting down on your crocodile — I don't 
 want yourconsent! and to think that I wanted to marry her t 
 
 Bakoness. (k.) Her? Who? 
 
 Count. Deafyl 
 
 Count. Yes! a certain demure young lady, who thinks 
 proper to make assignations in dark corridors, with indi- 
 viduals of the opposite sex 1 
 
 Bakoness. [aside and anxiously) Ah ! 
 
 MuLD. What the devil are you talking about? 
 
 Count. I was walking in the garden just now, when I 
 thought I heard a cat climbing up the trellis work — but 
 it wasn't — it was another sort of animal coming down I — 
 and down it did come ! — upon my head I — on the top — 
 with a flop ! — it was a coat ! 
 
 MuLD. A coat ? Was that all? 
 
 Count. No — the coat was inhabited — there was a man 
 in it ! 1 grappled with him, and in the deadly encounter 
 that ensued, I wrenched off one of his 
 
 l^ARONESs. Mercy on me ! 
 
 Count. Don't be alarmed! One of his buttons — here 
 — here it is. [taking button out of his pocket and examining 
 it) EhV No — yes — it's one of mine ! 
 
 MuLi). Ha, ha, ha I Fie — fie. Count I 
 
 Baroness. Fie — fie, cousin ! 
 
 Count. Pooh — don't be absurd I He not only robs me 
 of my mistress, but actually purloins my coat to press his 
 fiuit ! This a case for the police, (going) 
 
 
 .* 
 
 fi 
 
 t-. 
 
woo I NT, O N i: S W I FE. 
 
 23 
 
 nberg ? 
 
 MuLD. {pulling him hack) Don't be absurd ! 
 
 Bakoness. [aside) Tliis is what I dreaded! In less 
 than an hour, tliis adventure will be the talk of the City! 
 "What's to be done? Yes — I must betray Gertrude's 
 secret; but it shall be to her husband^ and his ingenuity 
 must do the rest! [hurrying to tablf, and writing rajiidlg) 
 
 MuLD. Now, take my advice; walk quietly home, 
 swallow a basin of gruel, and go to bed. Go along! 
 
 Count. I won't go along ! 
 
 Enter Max, l. 2 e. 
 
 Waitkk. The supper is on the table ! 
 
 ]3ar<)ni:ss. {rising, and hastily aside to Waiter) This 
 letter instantly to Major Walstein — not a moment's delay 
 quick ! Giving letter to Max, who exits, c. to R. 
 
 MuLD. Well! Adieu for the present, my dear Count I 
 Ha, ha! 
 
 ]Jau)ness. {taJcing^li:LDORr's arm) Ta — t.i, cousin! Ha, 
 ha! Exeunt, l. 2 e. 
 
 Count. Prettily I've been taken in ! But who is this 
 free and easy individual who presumes to cut me out? — 
 in my own coat too ! And yet — I might, peri.aps, turn 
 the tables on him yet! That would be a triumph. Ah 
 — here comes the lady ! 
 
 Enter Gertrude, c.from r. 
 
 Gert. {looking behind her as she enters) Now, if I can 
 but regain my apartment unperccived. {seeing Count) Ah! 
 
 Count, {aside) I'll go it! {tenderly to Gf.ktuude) 
 
 Lovely and accomplished {aside) 1 forgot slic's deaf I 
 
 (in a very loud voice) Lovely and accom})lished creature ! 
 
 Gert. {alarmed, and looking abmit Iter) Sir ! 
 
 Count, {aside) She's afraid we shall be overheard ; 
 and yet, it's no use speaking in a whisper to her, ])(>or 
 soul. Ah ! I have it. {begins talking very rapidly and 
 very energetically to Gertuui: with his fingers) 
 
 Gert. What does the man mean? 
 
 Count. Mean? {repeating the action with his fingers 
 still more energetically) That's what I mean! {suddenly 
 seizing her hand, and in a very loud voica) I love — I 
 adore you — I lay my fortune at your feet — that's more 
 
'■ i. 
 
 v.' 
 
 li 
 
 If '■ 
 
 34 
 
 ,1. 
 
 WOOING UNi: S WIFE. 
 
 tlmu t'other chap can do I lie hasn't got any — the very 
 co:it oil Ills back don't belong to him. In ten minntcs, 
 my travelling carriage will be in readiness — you under- 
 btand — not a word-- liush ! [seeing I^akoxess) 
 
 Enter JJauonkss, l. 2 i:. 
 
 Gkut. [who has been staring at Count in asto7iish)nent) 
 The man's mad ! 
 
 CoLNT. Cousin — sudden business calls mc away, (aside 
 to CJKiiTKUDi:) Make haste and pack up. (aloud to 
 Bakonkss) Say good-bye to the Baron for me. Made- 
 moiselle — your servant. 
 
 (buics to Gertrude — stops again at door, c, and 
 begins talking again very violently icith his fingers 
 to her) Exit, c. to u. 
 
 Bauonkss. Gertrude — what does this mean? 
 
 Gi:uT. [seriously) That your cousin, /lip Count, has 
 thought proper to insult me — that he has di\L^d to propose 
 an elopement — and in terms which 
 
 Bajioness. Which should not surprise any woman who 
 foolishly makes an appointment in the corridor of a public 
 hotel with one 
 
 Gert. What do you mean? (anxiously) 
 
 Baroness. That the Count is fully aware of what has 
 taken place ; and that, being naturally of a very commu- 
 nicative disposition 
 
 Gert. I see it all. I shall be compromised. There is 
 but one thing to be done — this very moment I will confess 
 everything to Major Walstein — [icith affection) — to my 
 husband. 
 
 Enter Muldorf, l. 2 e. 
 
 MuLD. (as he enters) Ha, ha, ha I these diplomatists 
 are certainly long-headed fellows. Ladies, I have some 
 news for you, which I flatter myself will astonish you as 
 much as it did me. What do you think? it turns out 
 after all that Major von Walstein 
 
 Gert!'^^^* [(««^"^"«^^) ^^^^'^ 
 
 MuLD. Ts not Major von Walstein I 
 
 G ERT. (aside) Mercy on me ! (staggering) 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 25 
 
 Baroness. Impossible ! 
 
 MuLD. I dare say it is, only he just happens to have 
 told me himself, and I presume he knows k( niething 
 
 about it. 
 
 ]^\;iom:ss. [eagerlj/ seiztncj one r>/*BAU()x's arins) Speak! 
 
 Okkt. [scizinr/ tJic otiicr) Cio on! 
 
 Mri.i). Well, it scorns that ■svben the embassy uitlidrcw 
 fidiii Naples, Major von Walstein was instructed to remain 
 tlicrc incog. Consequently, in order to deceive the Xc.ipoli- 
 tan Government, another individual was temporiirily in- 
 vested with the major's name and title, and he did return 
 with the embassy, while, as I said before, the i'ca/ major 
 remained behind. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 (lEiiT. {aside to iiAJiO'sr.as) What! what will become of 
 mc ? {falling into a chair unseen by Muldorf) 
 
 Baroness, {alarmed and suddenhj) Baron! 
 
 MuLD. {starting) What's the matter? 
 
 Baroness. She has fainted, don't you see ? Run, run I 
 (Mui-DORF bewildered starts off towards c.) Not there. 
 
 MuLD. {trotting about) Where? where? 
 
 Baroness, {pointing to r. 2 e.) There ! you'll find salts 
 — sal volatile — run, make haste ! 
 
 I\IuLi)ORF runs outat top of his speed, l. 3 e. — 15 \ roness 
 7'uns to Gertrude. 
 Gertrude I Gertrude ! 
 
 Gert. Oh, Baroness! itisn'ta dream then after all. That 
 dreadful, odious man, that I allowed to kneel at my feet, 
 for a whole minute and a half, he's not my husband after 
 all. If T were to see him again, I should die witii shame 
 and confusion. I must leave Kbningsberg this very night, 
 this very hour. 
 
 Baijonkss. It's your only course, a few -words with my 
 husband and I will return, in the meantime be pacified, 
 —all may yet be well. 
 
 Hurries out at door ^ t,. 3 e. 
 
 /.'..'/»',' Ma. loll, r. front i!., and leans' negligently against the. 
 dtiorwa//-, smoking a cigarette. 
 
 Oi'AiT. Now to prepare for my immediate departure. 
 (turns and sees Major) It's he again. 
 
¥ 
 
 ill 
 
 I I 
 
 ^ 
 
 26 
 
 wooiN(} oxi: s win:. 
 
 ^Faior. ( jivflnulhifj to sec her) All ! your parrlon 
 inadciiu>i,<(!lU', its m Iiaint I've got, hut if you ohjcct 
 
 (Ji:iiT. {coh/l>/) It's pnrfcctly iiulilVerciit to mo sir. 
 
 Major. {t/n-(>iv/ii(/ ((tcd// c/'t/aretlc, (hen as if suddenly 
 rerollectinfj) Uy-tlic-bye, they tell me supper is ready! 
 will you peiinit inc? {'iff' I'ing his arm) 
 
 Gekt. Don't eonie iieiir me, sir! 
 
 Major. Ileydny ! here's a eliungc ! pcrliiips yon will 
 condescend to explain the — (taking apinrh ofanujf) the — 
 eh? 
 
 Gekt. {angrilg) Sir, I have just been informed that you 
 have dared to present yourself here under an assumed 
 name I 
 
 Major, [aside) So, so I n >w my good, plotting, clever 
 little wife, it is my iwrnl [aL aid and carelessly) Oh ! then 
 you know 
 
 Gert. The Baron has told me everything. 
 
 Major. I'll never forgive him for blabbing, (aside) I 
 knew he would I (aloud) In that case, I confess I am not 
 Major von Walstein! but what of that? 
 
 Gkrt. {indignantly) What of that I [to Major, who 
 advances towards her) Keep your distance, sir! 
 
 Major, (quietly) Why should I? In resuming my own 
 character I am still inspired by the same feelings, the same 
 hopes, the 
 
 Gert. [with dignity) Sir, you are addressing Major von 
 Walstein's wife ! 
 
 Major, (quietly) What of that? If it is so, and of 
 course you ought to know, all I can say is, that I am sorry 
 for the major; very^ poor devil ! 
 
 Gert. Oh sir! why did you assume his name? 
 
 Major, [with quiet emphasis) Why did you discard it? 
 
 Gert. I was deceived, I thought 
 
 Major. That I was your husband ! and consequently 
 a fitting person to be made the victim of a plot. 
 
 Gert. I was to blame, much to blame. 
 
 Major, (quietly) It is not for me to criticise your 
 conduct, mademoiselle, I should say, madame, I merely 
 wish to justify my own ; and it is but natural that my vanity 
 shoidd be flattered, at finding that a married lady, calling 
 herself mademoiselle^ should take the trouble of going all 
 
WOOING one's wife. 
 
 2f 
 
 the way to Dnntzic for tlic pleasure of rid'in;:; back in the 
 same diligence with mc ! [smiling coinplaccntly) 
 
 GicKT. [indijnantlij) No siicii thing, sir! I went thero 
 on husiness. 
 
 Ma.ioh. [smiling) True, Dantzic is a commercial city; 
 and thorcfoii' I presume, it was the same spirit of com- 
 ni( rcial enterprise that lately induced you to favour mo 
 with your charming society for a good quarter of an hour 
 notwitlistiinding the y;r'rv/^/rt?'//^ of ntij costume \ you per- 
 ceive 1 am merely justifyitig myself, or I might allude to 
 other little interesting incidents, such as the dropping of 
 a certain handkerchief from a certain window. I am 
 perfectly aware that the cus'tora is oriental, hut 
 
 Gkrt. Sir! You might shew a little generosity. 
 
 Majou. As I observed before, I am justifying myself; 
 but r have done — and — now — [taking GIi:i:tkude's hand- 
 kerchief out ofhispocket and wiping his cjics with pretended 
 emotion) now that we are about to part for ever 
 
 (iRRT. Yes sir — for ever; [suddenly sees her hand- 
 kerchief, and snatches it out o/Majok's hand) 
 
 Major. Allow me to acquit myself of a commission — 
 a painful commission, {taking a small morocco case out of 
 his pocket) This portrait, madamc, of your good, confiding 
 husband — poor devil — which he intreated me to place in 
 the hands of his dear, constant, devoted wife. 
 
 Enter Cov}iThurriedli/,c. from R.,in cloak^ travelling cap, Sfc» 
 
 Count, [hastily and aside to GERTKUur)Arc you ready? 
 the carriage is waiting, [seeing MA.Jor) Who's our friend 
 I wonder? [aloud to /</m) You'll excuse me, sir, but I and 
 my niece have along journey before us — haven't we, niece ? 
 [aside to her) Call me uncle, [aside) I forget this is a deafy. 
 {beginning to talk to her violently with his fingers) 
 
 Ma-ior. Then before you go sir, oblige me by delivering 
 to your niece this miniature of — her grandmother. 
 
 Count, [aside) Grandmother, I don't believe she ever 
 had one. (takes immature from Major and gives it to 
 Gertrude) 
 
 Gert. [looking at miniature — then pushing the Count 
 violently aside) My dear, dear husband, (throwing herself 
 into Major's arms) 
 
28 
 
 WOOINf} ONE S WIFE. 
 
 fl 
 
 I :l 
 
 Ma.iou. My dear, dear wife ! 
 
 Count. Husband ! — wife ! — poo — poo, that's all wrong ! 
 
 Entrr IMuLDORF and Bakonkss at door^ h. 2 e. 
 
 ]'ai:<)Ni:.ss. On the contrary, cousin, it seems to mc to 
 be all right — what can be more natural than for husband 
 and wife to indulge in a conjugal salute? 
 
 Count, (h.) llu.sljand and wife ! 
 
 Uakonkss. (c.) Yes! allow me to present to you, "Major 
 K. vt)n W., whose marriage by contract under royal com- 
 mand three years ago witli Gertrude von Steinberg, the 
 youthful widow, et cetera, etcetera," for further particuhars, 
 I refer you to tlie Dantzic Gazette of last week. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 {crossing^ l. c.) 
 
 Count. Well, upon mature deliberation, I really must 
 say that all things eousidcred, you might have told me this 
 before. 
 
 Geut. Nay Count, for then we should have had to drop 
 the curtain on our little domestic drama in the very tirst 
 scene ! 
 
 Count. ITow so? 
 
 Geut. Ijecau.se it would have quite upset my plot. 
 Namely, to ascertain if 1 was loved or not. 
 
 Count. True ! {to Major) for then I never should have 
 
 dreamt of sueiug her. 
 
 Major. And I had lost the happy chance of wooing her. 
 
 {kisses Gertrude's hand) 
 
 ■Count. 
 
 GEimtUDE. 
 
 Major. 
 
 BxitONESS. 
 
 MULDORP. 
 
 Curtain* 
 
 Printed by Thomas Scott, 1, Warwick Court, Holbonu 
 
sail wrong! 
 
 L. 2 E. 
 
 ms to me to 
 for husband 
 
 ^ou, "Major 
 royal coin- 
 
 cinberg, tlie 
 particulars, 
 ila, lia, lia! 
 ossing, l. c.) 
 
 really must 
 
 told me this 
 
 J had to drop 
 ic very first 
 
 my plot, 
 1 or not. 
 
 should have 
 ■ sueing her, 
 ' wooiug her. 
 iude's hand) 
 
 MULDOKF. 
 
 borm 
 
I .1 
 
ill): 
 
 [ 
 
 i \ 
 
HEI 
 T 
 
n 
 
 I n\ 
 
 n 
 
 I ij 
 
 in 
 
 DO 
 
 1 I 
 
 El,\, 
 
 AN OPERETTA 
 
 IN ONE ACT. 
 
 V\.RITTEN AND COMPOSED FOR 
 HER EXCELLENCY THE COUNTESS OF DUFFERINS PRIVATE 
 THEATRICALS. GOVERNMENT HOUSE. OTTAWA, FEB.. I875. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE LIBRETTO, 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK A. DIXON. 
 
 OTTAWA: 
 
 PRINTED BY J. BUREAU, Sl'ARKH STREET, 
 
 nctwffiii «>'Ci>nnor 1 Hank .<trcct><. 
 
7 
 
 
 ? ' 
 
 DUAMATIS PERSONyE. 
 
 THK MAIUK (»F ST. I^KIKUX, 
 
 CMIAKLKS DUVAL, an KuKlisliiimn, 
 
 MONSIKUU IIOIJILLKT, Hla.ksmith, 
 
 riKllllK, Apprentic.' 
 
 CUMTKSSJ-: I)K iJKArDltV, H Royalist, (lisK'»i'*«'<1 as Ma.liu.i. 
 iJanic, Dri.'ssiimki-r, 
 
 MAHIK, Ni«'Cf of MooHicur BoiiilKt. 
 
 (JtiKlarnn's, PfMiwmts, iSlucksniitlis, &»-. 
 
 TVir ncent! tx laiJ in thi tittle Jireton ViUaije uf St. liriau. Coxluimf: 
 in the time 0/ the Consul ale ^ eir. 1800. 
 
T II F, 
 
 MAIRE OF ST. BRIEUX 
 
 lsV«7/r outside the rillaye of St. Brieux, in iirittidii/, trood, 
 irith riew of the sea at bach', B,acl;8H>ith'.'i (^<>tt«f(/e tintl 
 Forge L. ArtisVs easel R. U. E. Liyhts ujf. The lilt i eh- 
 iiinith with his apprentiees workiinj at anvil L. Vitlat;er>i 
 lit hark and round forge. Chorus <(s Curtain mo. 
 
 cuonvH. 
 
 \V(ul\, lu'otliers work, while the riuidy atnms yield ; 
 Work, ln'otliers work, the heavy hammers wiehl. 
 X(»w is the moment when the vietory must lie wmi, 
 Woik, 1>r<>thers work, and the Uihour will he <l(>ne. 
 
 Kl^XMTATIVK .^' ARIA 
 
 ]{LA<KSMITH. 
 
 Ileal- tlie IteMows ereak and eiy 
 To the sparks tliat quiet lie. 
 In the fori^e tire, dim and low. 
 Waiting: idlv in the jrlow. 
 
 otr 
 
 away ! away ! away 
 
 Aiul, like hoys let out to play 
 
 On 
 
 Mune Slimmer 
 
 holid; 
 
 »V 
 
 Ont tiiey leap towaj-d the sky, 
 Sprimjfinii; thr<>n«i:h the chimney hiicli, 
 With a I'oar of wihl desire; 
 Leaiiinuc hi^fher, iii^her, hi^hei". 
 And the iron in its hed, 
 Wakes to life of i^lowiiiir red. 
 Now the work lKMu>ati» <tur Mows, 
 ShajK'd and fashiv)ned, ever grows. 
 
CIIOUUS. 
 
 •oi» 
 
 1: 
 
 m 
 
 Striki', Id-olluM's, sti'ikc ! while llic ruddy atoms yit'MB/.;,!* 
 Strike ! Iirot Ihm's, strike ! the lieavv liaiuiiiei-* wield. ||on 
 Now is tlie iii:)inent when the victory must l>e w<ui, 
 Strike ! l»;"other.s strike ! uncloui' lahours will be done. Wl^iri; 
 
 HLACKS.MITirs S()N( 
 
 Otliors niav talk ot'tlieir Icarninii* and wealtli, 
 
 Of their ancestors, honours and rank ; 
 I^ut for me I liad rather huvo comfort aii<l health 
 
 And contentment, that own half the hank. 
 Jve a home that is ha|>|»y, a wife wiio is dear, 
 
 In liie villai;e I've many a friend, 
 I've a meal for tlie j)oor, and a cuj> of ^ood (dieer. 
 
 Anil it may he a ti'iHe to lend. 
 Vi^v M hlack^mith's life is the life for mo, 
 
 ivouifh anil i-eady, honest and free; 
 Tiiouiih the hand mriy he black, it'.> the haixl ol 
 
 man. 
 
 And the dirt's only outside, deny it who can I 
 
 Let Honaparie bi-ai:: ot his ifloiy and fanie, 
 
 AVith battles I've nothini;" to do ; 
 And ^loi'vs at best but a battledore ,ii:ame, 
 
 Thoui^h 1 Iov(^ the hold '* i*ed, white, an<l blu*'. 
 And if ever a foe should juit foot on our land, 
 
 And set up the standai-ds of war, 
 We'll sec if tins dii'ty old bhudvsmith'y hand, 
 
 Can't show them the way to the tlooi", 
 Hut a bla(d<smith's life is the life for me. 
 
 MaI 
 
 Ivlieul 
 Lniiij 
 lii.llv 
 
 I'll- 
 Ma 
 Vw 
 
 <||i>\V 
 
 Ma 
 
 1»IK 
 
 |\vidi 
 
 Ih'i'U 
 kind h 
 [iK's 
 Ma 
 ivrv 
 i'n 
 irtt 
 [Hii.nl 
 liiii) 
 M; 
 Ict'i'ta 
 liiot 
 Klin' 
 
 N 
 
 l*ouiih and ready. honcNt an<l tree ; 
 Though the hand maybe black, it's the hand ol .; 
 
 man, 
 And the dirt's oidy wutside, deny it who can ! 
 
 Hlacksmitii. — Now then, my lads, be otl' with you 
 o more woid< to-day. If it is u holiday, why, let* 
 
o 
 
 jti-oj) il. T say, and when ^-ou'rc tired of'danc-ini]: yoiril 
 L| ;i drink of wine round the oM fori^e. i)()nt toi'i^et. 
 lExt'int b'illiUjfrs U. rlweriiuj.) \ must i^o and invite his 
 loiioin* tiie Maii'e to dinner, and see what's in the cel- 
 |:ir. ( Exit L. Enter Marie from house followed slotcbj hi/ 
 irrrc.) 
 
 Makie. — I toll you Pierre I shall just dance with 
 liom I <*hoose — thei'e! and as fo!* Monsieur !)uval. the 
 iiaii^e I'ln^iishinan as you rail him, he danct's splcn- 
 idly, just for all the world like Punchinello. 1 eoidd 
 Ijiiicc all day with him, and 1 will too, if you teasi> mo, 
 here : 
 
 PiKKHE. — liut Marie, eomo now. (eofurinyh/.) 
 M AKIK. — 1 wont ! 
 
 'iKiUJK. — This I'cllow, this monsieer l)uval ! no one 
 <ii(»\vs who he is, or what he is, or what he is afler — no 
 o(l I'll 1)0 hound. 
 Makik. — He's an Artist. 
 
 I'iKHRE. — You're a woman. / helieve he is |)J^^l(inlr 
 til these (Miouans, he's a spy, a conspirator, why, he's 
 •II htdo-inii; these thret^ wet'Us j»a>t with your unclv 
 I lu^ has not done a picture hi^'^er than a spade yet. 
 lilt's manaii-ed to tui-n all your sillv little heads tl-Miich. 
 Marie. — Mv head is not sillv Sir. Vou said it >vas a 
 'i-y ]»rctty liltK' hea<l once, (pn'tcndini/ to crij). 
 
 hvi 
 
 
 'IKK UK 
 
 T\ 
 
 jci'e now, < 
 
 lont 
 
 <-r\ 
 
 Mi 
 
 I. le. 
 
 It 
 
 IS a very 
 
 ivtty little head, and J dont like to see it on thi.> 
 
 jiii'lishman s 
 
 shouhler 
 
 There ! J>ont dance nith 
 
 lliiin Marie. / dont wish it. 
 
 Makie. — (sarciuiirdlli/) 0\\\ yo?/ dont wish it. That 
 (vrtainly is an excellent I'oason. Rememher Sir, we are 
 liiot mai-ried yet, ami not likeh* to be, there's iminv a 
 -liji' twixt the cup and the lip. 
 
 I \ 
 
 qVAHllVAj I)UF:T, (Mane and Pierre.) 
 
 J/. 'Twixt the ciij» ami the lij), 
 
 There is many a slip. 
 
 As many a lover lias found. 
 

 
 6 
 
 P . Thore'H a in'ovcrl) as ^ood, 
 
 If it's well iiiMk'rHtood. 
 'Twixt 1\V() stooln ynii fall lo tlic •^rciund. 
 
 M, Two st 1*1 lilts' to my l)ow 
 
 I cliooso, Sir, lo show. 
 
 In fact, 1 tliiiik that is too few. 
 
 P . In love Miss, you're told 
 
 T(» 1)0 otr with' the ohl. 
 
 Before 3011 are on with the new. 
 
 M. Your wish then I'll ohev Sir, 
 
 (Cnrt8Cj/in(f) And hid you now «;ood day Sir, 
 I've notiiinu: more to say Sir. 
 Good (lav, ii:oo(l day, ^ood day. 
 
 (Goinr/ off.) 
 
 P. very well then, <^o Miss, 
 
 Be oft' to your new heau, Miss, 
 Sinee vou will have it so, Mih«. 
 Good day, i;ood <lay, good day. 
 
 (Exit Pivrre li.) 
 
 Makik. — I*oor Pierre! I do reallv love him, hut one 
 ma}' as well have some fun hefore mai'riage, one ^el-* 
 so little after. Then this stranuer is so niee and he dor> 
 (lance SO heautifully. Ah! here he comes. 
 
 (Enter DuvaL L. U. E.) 
 
 I)l'VAL. — Ah my ]>ret.ty Marie, what have you heeii 
 doing to |)oor I'ierre. I j)assed him just now und In 
 looked as IdaeU as ten thunder storms. 
 
 Mauik. — Nothing. We were only playing at Pi'o 
 verhs. lie does'nt want me to danee willi you at tin 
 fete to (lav. 
 
 Di:v.\L. — Not danee! Indecnl y(ui shall though, il 
 Pierre goes into a straight waisteoat on the spot. Hni 
 I sa}' Alarie, I want you to do something for me. 
 
.\fM(lK.--\V(«ll? 
 
 l>i VAi.. — lliivoyour iincl«ys hiack niarc sa<l<IU'<l aii<l 
 I sonu^ one out to soo il" tluMV aro any lu'ws of that 
 
 .('II' 
 
 \,\<j^ raco 
 
 1 toi<l voii about over in Kn^^lund. 
 
 Maiuk. — An<l you are ffoin^ to givo me a tliousand 
 Itnnn's, it'yonr horse wins ? 
 
 I)iVAi-. — Yes. I will too. 
 
 Mauik. — I'll i^o and send some one ort' <lire('tly. A 
 thousand iVanes ! Wiuit fun! Wont 1 tease i'ierro ! 
 
 (Exit into hou.sc.) 
 
 l)i;VAL. — (Comin</ front, tnkes a small hcttiju/ hmk from 
 l,;s porkrt.) ;i an<l"4"is 7. and;") is 12. 12, IS, lill. Ii'm. 
 1. aiKJ 1 is 2. Yes, that's a cool 2,0IM) L stand to win 
 this l)erlty if only the Count can «;o the pace. {Jfi' talus 
 ,1 Utter fnnn his pochrt, another t/rojm on to the (/round, nwh) 
 • Uonoured Sir, — The ('onnt is all ri^ht. It will l»e a 
 
 .. u... )),.. h. I see, a tou<i:h thini;, hut he's hound to 
 lio;it. Honey cant stay. Youi's respectahly, Bkndioo 
 HiioWN." Short hut sweet, Jicndi«i" Brown! I woiild'nt 
 lu'(l<re a farthiiii;-. It'.s iieek or nothiiii; this time, and no 
 mistake. If Hony doe.s'nt foun<ler I shall. (Sees the 
 \leftrr on till' (/round.) Hullo! thei'e's that letter I have to 
 jiv(! to " .Nfadanie Harrie, J-)ressinaker," (turns it urnir 
 
 he. Well it' 
 
 niriou.sli/ in his hands,) w'hoewv siie may i»e. »eli its 
 none of my business. Uncle sends me ovei" here, pays 
 all exj)enseH. Xo (juestions asked. Jiut it w odd. The 
 mysterious madaine, has to say to me " Silk is risin«(." 
 And then 1 hand my letter to the mysterious madame, 
 and exit l)uval. A u;o<m1 deal of mystery. I must ^et to the 
 lioltom of it. Well I wish silk would rise soon, and 
 ilu'ii hey for Kn;.?lan<l once niore. I hate this Trance. 
 It always reminds me of cousin Mary and our old bout- 
 iiiif (lays before that confounded Freiw hman ran away 
 with her. i think she cared for me a little then. I 
 know J loved her. llei^ho that's ten yeais a^o : ten 
 wars witiiout a woi-d I'rom lier, she must be (lead, at 
 any rate she'w dead to me. 
 
8 
 
 WJIITK AND I»IXK. 
 
 Fl<>atin«ij down the I'ivor slow, 
 
 Xo one l»y, none to Hpy, 
 Wo togethor Itoatini^ i^o, 
 
 Dainty cousin >ray and I. 
 
 All my sense hewiidei'M, flies, 
 
 Cousin May, the little fay, 
 With her roi^uish hazel eyes, 
 
 Laui^hs at what I sa}'. 
 
 And the sun eomes shinint^ down, 
 On the fair, soft golden hair, 
 
 Sun shade ])ink and muslin gown, 
 Fairy Mary sittinu; there. 
 
 " (Shinin*:: sun and M'anton wind, 
 
 l-iver stay so all the day, 
 Leavini^ me would he unkind, 
 
 Happy me ! " — f say. 
 
 But slie only hlushin<!: eries, 
 '' Charley tie!" [(Miarley's T.] 
 
 And to catch the rushes tries, 
 As the boat drifts slowly by. 
 
 Besting on my oars T think, 
 Do you k]K)w I love you so ? 
 
 Do you lovo me, wliite and pink ? 
 Is it yes... or no ? 
 
 (Goes up the sfatje and sits at easel. Jl, C. Enter tJ\ 
 Maire and BJachsmith, the Maire irith his hands full 
 papers.) 
 
 Mayor. — News ? yes indeed my dear Monsieur Boiii 
 lot (rreat news. Most important news, but you woiil 
 not understand it if I were to tell you. You're a go*" 
 follow, a very good honest sort of a fellow, but y<»| 
 
w. 
 
 
 n<i. 
 
 I] 
 
 ? 
 
 . (^- Enter fl\ 
 hdnds full 
 
 oiisiour Eon 
 '>nt yon won 
 You'ro a if(», 
 
 How, I tilt V( 
 
I 
 
1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 Ir 
 
\nlll 
 
 
 
 Id'iit mnU'r>lainl tlicsc slnlc inatti'i-s? ('oino ii(>w 
 
 .dull I try to t'Xjdain to yoii. 
 
 |{i, \(K!SMiTii. — Woll, I (lout know. I'm a tliirk-licadctl 
 .Hit o| a man Iml I mii^lit ti'V t<> lake it in. i;-n on I 
 
 .M.woii. — Woll, Wi'll, look luTi', tliis ('mint <U' l'rovt»n- 
 |(('. who osca])0«l over to Kn^land, in tlio Im^; troiildcs, is 
 liiviiiLC with his IVionds in France, to upsot Honapai'tc, 
 ;iii(l tako tht' thi'oiie. 
 
 Ml ACK.s.MiTii. — rpset the little e<»rporal ! not he ! 
 
 Mavou, — \V(dl,he is tl•yinl,^ and what's more they are 
 tryiiiii: lu're in Brittany, here in St. Hrienx, here, wheri- I 
 ;im the Mairc! These despatcdies tell me that there are 
 |)c'(>|de in this very plaee whoare in regular eommiiniea- 
 lioii with Paris, and they can't find out how it's done. 
 Listen ! 1 havt' ordei's to ari'est and search all suspicions 
 cliaracters. ( Lo<>k>i nit (\ and noJ.i .sif/tiifiriint/i/.) 
 
 Mt-ArKs.MiTii. — Why yon dont say that he {Maj/or 
 
 h'xh (U/ahi.) liloss me 1 should never have thought it. 
 
 .Maikk. — ( Whisj)i'n'M</) We must searcli his hagi^atc*' 
 t(Mlav. 1 waiM-ant we shall tind somethinic I'cside nii^ht- 
 taps. I never likeil the i'ellow. 
 
 Mi.Acics.MiTii. — 1 did. 
 
 Maikk. — Vou ! hut then you're not so accustomed to 
 jilols iia 1 am. 
 
 TLOT Tino. 
 
 l/ilac/ismit/t, Duval and the Main.'] 
 
 .Mai RE. 
 
 H 
 Tl 
 
 ere a i» 
 
 ilot ! 
 lot 
 
 lere a p 
 Whatever is the reason ! 
 
 I'll be shot, 
 
 If they're not. 
 Always hatchin;j: treason, 
 
 a} 
 It's ahsurd, 
 
 But 
 
 poll my W(U'< 
 
 I. 
 
 It's more than 1 can hear, Sir 
 
]() 
 
 If 
 
 . 
 
 Ij 
 
 ijl 
 
 you ^^o, 
 
 I)o\vii Ik'Iow 
 
 SU'O 
 
 Tis'nt liottiM" ihv'ro. Sir. 
 
 {T(ik>'» /JliK'k.tfuilfi'M iirm Hfn'ou/ilif,) 
 
 [Sfi<>/,rii.'\ I tin nsMir*' you fliat wliat willi i«iiii> 
 r<ls <'iii(l i;-('ni|jirin>, pickiiockt'ts, j)|()ts and stray \t\ir-> 
 
 niaiMlais. iM|i<«ts ami |ii'o(laiii ilioio. |.»^i rluMivn. or^j 
 ^riii'K'rs, iiiolM and mad Miinlisliiiicii. 
 
 Why I'd ratlu'i- Ik' a iMonkoy tliaii a iiiair»' sir. 
 
 IM \.^i.. \,il fun/, (*.] 
 
 I wish von would iTo ! 
 
 Maihk. 
 
 Hut I'd liav(f you to know, 
 ^riial I'lu uot at all slow, 
 I «un |>i(d\ out a npy. 
 Willi a ^laiiri- of my oyc, 
 .\ ikI tako a man in, 
 Ki'om Kis toes to his «'hin, 
 And I'oMnw his nose. 
 WIm'I'i \ ri- it ijoos 
 
 fh'V.M.. \J'oiitiiiii ihiini front. ^ 
 
 < )h. hot her vouf noso. 
 
 And yoi!i- chin aiid your loos, 
 
 ^\ MUK. 
 I)! V.VI,. 
 
 .lust listi'U to mo 
 
 I'm tlu' Mairc, Sir, you >«•»• 
 
 Oh liddlo-do-doc ! 
 
 {Si 
 
 Hl^ 
 
 F« •rl 
 for dil 
 d'aniii 
 till I 
 
 It foU 
 
 1 do : 
 is not 
 
 HiACKs.MiTii. [Ai'doin'titaUfi.^ 
 
 llo's I ho Mairo Sir you ^•t' ! 
 
n ii'-rvtiUMfi/.j 
 Witll ,UMlii> 
 
 I stray \i'\<r^. 
 
 Il'l'h. o|<j;;(i 
 
 ir sir. 
 
 Hero a H]^y. 
 
 There a spy, 
 PIotlinjLC, Sir, and scheming, 
 
 Ni^ht and day, 
 
 ]*ra'|)s 3'()u'II 8uy 
 Surely I am dreaming: 
 
 You mistake, 
 
 I'm awake. 
 Oh, you noed'iit stare, Sir, 
 
 Listen now, 
 
 This is how, 
 Thin is how 1 tare, Sir. 
 
 For hreakf'ast, ihey ^five mo u little plot well peppered; 
 lor dinner, a hraee of conspiracies, served <i At maitre 
 (I urines; with a tine l>i^ rehcllion, devilled, (or supper, 
 fill I dream of l>lundcrl»us>es and hot water all ni^iit lon;r. 
 It tould'nt he worse if I lived on pins and needles. Ah, 
 I do a.ssure you, my dear Monsieur Houillet, for /<w tail 
 i>i not 80 bad as mi/ talc — that 
 
 ^li'i/S.) 
 
 I'd rather he a monkey than a Maire. Sir. 
 
 Mich a i;oo<| naturcd young iciiow io<». la-ai im-. m-.r 
 iiic ! what a world ! 1 must i^o aiid have a glass r 
 wine to ludd nivscif tooothcr. 
 
 (^."7 in fit hou.sc.) 
 
 IMVAI-. — {(it htirl: still fxu'titimj) What an «dd |»cp|Hi 
 |i<'l it i.s, not a iia<i little man it he wcrc'nl --{uU :i 
 I'onipous little wietrh. {//urns fi> hiwstff. Hntcr Af" 
 '<nnr liiinli' L. S/n romes >i(ivii. Dunil ,^iiH </»>rs on 
 »(ii/inif. At tiist shi l>tirsts imt lnniihmq. Ihtvcl tiirts */;>. 
 
 l>rVAl.. — A thousand ]>ardons Mjidanu'. I'm sure. I 
 lid'nt know I iind an audience. 
 
 M.li». H. — It is I who am in fault Monsieur. The 
 iidienee should not have hmirln^d. {iii<H/<) It's my 
 ittesseiigcr. he tUn'> not reinemher me. (atouil) Mon- 
 veiir is an arti'.t I pre^ume 
 
 iMx.M No Madame, no. di.Hitli) ,M\ dressmaker 
 §•>( H guinea ' III give her a elianee. (iiltmd itn<( with 
 
p 
 
 M 
 
 ■ 
 
 I tii.'' , ritti^ in i 
 
 :i i-f i " 
 
 
 i t1 < iVmIT' «. 
 
 .111(1 |)M|<)\N Ills l|l>.Si>, 
 Wln'ITVlT it iiui's 
 
 h« \ .M. \f 'omin(/ iloii n front. ^ 
 
 I 
 
 . 1 
 
 i iAi\\^t <• I 
 
 \Imkk. 
 
 I>l V Al. 
 
 < III. <»ntlu'r yoiii noHc, 
 
 Ami V'Mir ell ill aii<l yom too?*, 
 
 ,hiM listen to \\\v , 
 
 I'm tlu' Mairv, Sir, yoii >\'r 
 Oh ti«l.ll<w|,. .Nn> • 
 
 lii.ArKMMi'til. [AiKtUhj './ ; 
 
 Uv > th<- MaiiH> Sir \ou s^* ! 
 
 VAI. 
 
 II! K 
 
 \ \l. 
 
 . Dm 
 Maui 
 
 ill s< 
 to I 
 
 <t li. 
 
 m\\ x\ 
 
 IlK' ! NN 
 
 wiiio t« 
 
 I>rv 
 |ii)l it 
 
 |HI|M])0 
 
 f'H(iin</ 
 
 bi V 
 
 'li.i'iit 
 Mm 
 
 ; mlii'i) 
 
 llK'S.'«t'I 
 
 ^irlir i 
 hi V 
 i"r a u 
 
 W \ 
 
11 
 
 rvAT 
 
 I UK 
 
 And :i clattri'. willi yum- imtlci" 
 
 And 
 
 >oiii' t'ussiii<ir and Noiir \\nrr\ 
 
 And your liiii-ry and y(»m* fluiTy. 
 
 As if you jrallv wt-rc tlio irroal Moirnl ! 
 
 Tlu'^f words to nu' ! t(» ine, tin* Maiiv ! 
 Witii ra^co I <lioUt', • icai- Jnv liair. 
 
 «,<<•■< '• I 
 
 \ \I. iV IW-ACKSMITH. 
 
 With I'Mifo lio clndxcs, ]\v tears his liair ! 
 
 . />ur,i/ (jucs vfi hack, and sits at tasr/.) 
 
 IMaiuk. — Tliat's a daniifrous follow, ht''> lull ot'|doi«.. 
 
 Ml SCO it in his oyo, lie's u consjiifator. Kanc}', sprak- 
 
 b to nus tlu' Mairc'ofSt, Hricux, in that style ! His 
 
 I.LTi^Ji.irt' nnist Ik' searchi'd. I'll i;o and soe ahout it. 
 
 |Hi,A(Ks.mitm. — Well who would \\u\o Ihoui^dit it ! 
 
 ncli a i;ood nalmcd yoiin;;' follow loo. I)oai" mo, doar 
 iiu' I what a wtuld ! I niusl t^o and ha\'o a iciass of 
 \\ino to hold ni\ soil" to^iolJior. 
 
 (e.vit into house.) 
 
 IM VAI.. — (at Ihlrl; sf'/f f^fiftflfiff) What an old popptf 
 
 I'ot it is, not a lia<i . nan if in- woroiil >uoh a 
 
 |'<'in|M>us lit '»• wrotoh. ( H>nns to hiwsf/f. Knt*'r Ma- 
 
 himr Harrir I,. Mhr rtmie^ dowrr Dura! st>li (jots nu 
 
 tii/inif. At last i*hr hursts out fa'i'/fti'u/. J>ural starts ufi. 
 
 hrVAi.. — A thousand pai-tjons Madaino, Ini suro. I 
 
 'lid'nt know i had an audimoo. 
 
 Mai». H. — It is I who am in faidt .Moii«^i»'ur. Tin' 
 
 iidionoo shoid«l n<»i hnvo iauixhoil. (asiitr) It's my 
 
 iiiossoniroi', ho doos not romomluM- n»o. (ftkHkff) \h'ii- 
 
 Noui* is an ai'tist I |»|'o^unlo. 
 
 IKn A} . — No Madame, no. (as'<ti » My dressmaker 
 
 '»• a Lfuinoa ! 11! i^ivr hor a ohanrt-. i ttloud an<' inth 
 
12 
 
 nnp/KLsi.s) Tlio fact is tiwit I'lii a kind of'silU ir.ci'i'li 
 ii'jivclliiii^ ill silU. 
 
 Maha.mk H. — IimUmmI, I am vorv mncli inton'Mtnl 
 
 aif 
 
 IlMV 
 
 |mai>. 
 
 Idiv^ 
 
 silk mvsi 
 
 If. 
 
 M.xh 
 
 \)\ \\\. —((isit/f) 1 (lioMLrlit SO. 
 
 Mad. \\. -(iiHirliedly.) I hear it sai<l llial in Kii^laiJ I'' ^' 
 
 silk is i-isin^. 
 
 Mm' 
 
 A 
 
 Mai>. 
 irtt'tl V 
 
 |)l V 
 
 Mad 
 
 liKK'. 
 
 hnitiiu 
 
 DrVAli. — ((wdf.) My drossniakcr-! ((i/oini,) MaiianAl 
 I |H'rt(.M'tly uii(K'i'staii<l. I have the liomuir to jdjiil i>i va| 
 this h'tler IVoni my um-h» in yourown fair hands. (^'/VMinM;. 
 /i ffrr, (ts .s/n f(t/,is if U, (((f(ini>ts to h'ss Inr hmuL ^lic trim M M>- 
 iliuoi's it IkisIHij with tut (Oiijri/ </latfr, and (jnvs itjt hthM !>' v 
 rnuliiKj letter.) Ii'h' ^I 
 
 Di'VAh. — ll'm, well, for a dressmaker. I must say sli| 
 is a eharmiii:^ creature, looks like a (jueen, and tal 
 like a duchess, has the voice of a syren, and the hand 
 
 an aiiu'cl, and afoot like a fairy, and, and Ilnn 
 
 mi' if Ini not in love at tirst sii^hl ! Odd thoiiirh ! 
 faiu'V. I have seen her somewhere hetore. I know tliii 
 voice as well as my own. Where ? I must have u tal 
 \\ ith this mvsterinii> dressmakrr. Madamu ? 
 
 •Mak. I^ — .Monsieur ! 
 
 I)i VAL. — Shall I hvdii vou to read >'our letter? 
 
 M.M». W. — 'I'haiiks, no. I can read very well. I 
 read you a sentence to show you, (/'rw</.s) " Thou:,' 
 rharh'y ." 
 
 I>iv\i,. — (Miarlev ! <loes lie mean mi'? 
 
 .Mad. M. — Oh yes, Charley's you! Oh, you need im 
 !'iiiid, your umde and ' are old friiuuls. 
 
 l>i yvi . — Are you ! 
 
 Mai>. li. — (re<t«h) " Thoui^h Charley does not undei 
 stand our hiisiness, he is a gentleman and m 
 trusted to hehave as such 
 
 I'll 
 ('a^ 
 
 ml 
 
 M 
 
 ( Piirititj her ritiiUm/ .she looks him full ht the 
 hryAL.--! he;^ a tijousand |»anloiis, .Maila 
 
 rude, iiut \'ou are no dressmaker. 
 
 Mai>. II. — {hn((/hin<f) Ah, you are not (|uit 
 
 yot. Come, nevtM' mind. I for^i^ivi^ you. I i 
 
 in} friends. No, I am not u dressnnd<er, hut 
 
 name husiness as your uni le. 
 
 \y ')o 
 
 satcl; 
 
 
 fare.) 
 
 
 
 line. 
 
 1 w:. 
 
 St 
 11 
 
 I' recoverctj 
 
 
 Hue w« 
 
 ' shal 
 
 
 ! am 
 
 in t!ii 
 
 
 
 
 1) 
 
18 
 
 illc mere) nil 
 ill I i'r«',sjt(| 
 
 IMVAL.— Silk? 
 
 \\.\iK li.— Silk. 
 
 jM v.vr.. — I wisli 1 wi'Ti- ill tlu' ssiinr l»u^in«'ss. 
 
 M.\i». W. — IVrliaps you may lie iH'torc loni;. IJiii It'll 
 
 Tvo I 
 
 toiMi awuv in Vixns on 
 
 liiisii 
 
 ICSS. 
 
 ' ill Kii;,H.iil IMVAL.— Silk? 
 
 '"A) Mai I :i II 
 
 <»lir to |,|;|, 
 
 liamis. ( (;,, 
 
 f/'X'.S HJI Ixh 
 
 must say sli 
 '11, and ijilk 
 I tlic iiaitii 
 
 11.11 
 
 tlioiiufli I 
 i know tliiii 
 
 .Mai>. H. — Silk, C'Ci'tainlv. llav'nt vou found it ratliiM* 
 ill/ 
 
 jiivAL. — l>ull ! Tlu'i'c'." nothiiiir («» <lo, litorally no- 
 liiiiC. Ivr sj'l llu' whole placi' l»y llie ears tlioii^li. 
 
 Mad. W. — You «|uam'll<' 
 |)i VAL. — Noltody to «niarrel with, except that t'ussy 
 |t|i' Nfaiiv. 
 Mai>. IJ. — Poor little Mairo. I know him well. We 
 
 V Ljreat tVienils, he and 1. especially he Well, you 
 
 iiled with all the villaife helles. ofcoui'se. 
 hi VAL.— No one to flirt with except Mari»', here. 
 Mad H. — Mario ! Oh Monsieur leave pi'elly Marie 
 l(»iie. Tiioso simple country daisies wtuit heai* Irans- 
 
 K 
 
 liave a tjilfiantin^. She in only u <laisy ^ou know, not a rost'. 
 
 ONLY A DAISY. 
 
 tier? 
 well. ]| 
 " Thou- 
 
 >u neeil no 
 
 not iindci 
 y '»e safel'j 
 
 ne. i \v;h 
 
 rec(f»verc< 
 
 H' we shal 
 
 ani in tin 
 
 ( >nly !i Uaisy, indeed, 
 IMucki'd from its stem for the wliim of an hour. 
 Cast on ihe path as a vailu»de>s flower, 
 
 Left t ht're lo dii" as a ui'cd 
 
 Love and trust n»ared its lu'ad. 
 Up from Ihe fbnteri.iu; lap of the L^round. 
 Into the hri^ht, happy world it hud found. 
 
 Now, the poor l>aisy Ik dead . 
 
 "Pis hut a Daisy has died : 
 Slrollini^ down luroutrh the l*aik one ilay, 
 lie, the youn^ .Sir from the Hall, caim- thin way 
 
 JMucked it, and threw il aside. 
 
 >Jtty Imd it hei.-n hut a rose. 
 Delieale, sci»nted, iVrHsan sweei. 
 
 ' 
 
 ■ 
 
!il 
 
 II 
 
 14 
 
 W(»ul«l it luivc Iniii >(> sjkI nt in\- feet ? 
 
 What 
 
 l^* a 
 
 Da 
 
 ls\ 
 
 W 
 
 ho I 
 
 <lin\v.s 
 
 Nad \\v hut JMNt Um it lie 
 May hi", soiiK' <hiy fht'i-t' lia<l cuino lo the phic 
 (>iu' w lin would caic tni- its iiiiiocriit trra< 
 
 o 
 
 TaUi' lo lii> heart the '* day 
 
 H V\V 
 
 \(' 11) > I 
 
 rc«.«.iii; 
 
 ■ colli' 
 
 .lcli\ 
 
 A ) 
 
 «• day 
 .riiiir 
 
 (/hiriny thr Stm;/ Ihival hns htm attcnUi'ehi iratchiiif/ her.) 
 
 DiVAi,. — Maihnnc I t'cM 1 sure I havi^ noon you holoiv 
 ^'(»ui' voicf. when y(ui sinif, hriii^s huidv iui'inoi'i<'s t, 
 WW. Ila\ f \'ou vwv 
 
 .Mai> li. — .Moiisii'ui" yoji luusl \o mistakfU. I cai 
 UNsuri' y<»u tlial .Madanu' Uarric. lMt'ssinakt>r. never hjc 
 the pleasure of nu'etiiiix .Mr. Charles Duval till tin 
 nionniiu:. Shi' is however, (duirnied to have that |»U':i 
 sure now. ( .)/«//.v.s d low ntrlcsji,) Now you inu>4l iri' 
 See, all the twirls ai*e daiudni; yonder on the irreen, aii' 
 wonderino^ wliere theii" new hi-au has hidden hiujsi'lt 
 They will he «|uite jeahuis of iiie. (/iiut/hiioj.) 
 
 Div.M,. — I shall hee you a^ain soon then ? 
 
 M.\l». H. — Ves, Ves. (^uite soon enoui^h. (Jo. i^o. 
 
 lM\'.\l,. — (lood hye then, Madair.i', lor a whoh- hal 
 lioiii", (»r ten ndnuti's. (A.v'dc.) I'll make it five it |io 
 silde. I'm (»vei' head and ears in love with that wom.i 
 already. 
 
 {hJxit L. r. IC.) 
 
 Mai*. H. — Ah Master ( 'harley, you neai'ly reeoi«fni>r 
 me. thou<xh I am not much like th<> eousin Mary < 
 ten years a;;<>. How handsome he iias;jrown. I wondt 
 if he has fnr<^otten me ! Well, we shall M*e. I'm my ow 
 mistiess now at all eventK. (7'(/Av.s hitrr oui (iml irtuls it 
 (ihu'ioii^ news I — {nwh.) *'A11 arrangements are eon 
 plele this time, and hefore hui^i^ Kranee shall wee tli 
 Meiii-^de l\s ai^ain wav«» in the hroeze. ( 'nmmnnicate lli 
 t'lii'losed |dans to otir friends in I'aris. ^ Our woman 
 wit will tind .m safe w«y." Safe way. indee«l. ( /.tnuj/iini/. 
 Ye* (Im ';i^(mkI Maire of St. Hrieux, little dreams wini 
 
 {Ihiriiitf 
 
 »' llUlllH 
 
 Ma IKK 
 
 nirm^il 
 vy, a 
 iiir (dm 
 •MAn. 
 all ha' 
 
ts 
 
 <o Ml»lii^nii:4:ly riu'wai'ds lollris IVoni '* MadMiiio W. 
 
 iv>«imal<cr, t<» Ijci- sislt-r in Paris liv hi 
 
 inu> 
 
 lie plarc 
 ac(» 
 
 i/i.v /ler.) 
 
 I yoil l)«>ioiiJ 
 nu'iiiorit's tn 
 
 I', lu'vei' Ini 
 vai till till 
 
 Vt' tliat |tl(;i 
 
 >ii must l:<' 
 o u:ri'('ii, ah' 
 (U'li liimscli 
 
 ) 
 ? 
 
 (lO. J^O. 
 
 wiioic ii.ii 
 
 I five it |Mi« 
 tliat woiicii 
 
 r. /.;.) 
 
 >iii Mary « 
 I woiiilc 
 I III my nw 
 Hi</ 1 * this If 
 \\> an* roll 
 lall set' til 
 iitiiicat(> III 
 II!- wiunaii 
 Ijiiitiihihi) 
 
 ct 
 
 >< nwii piiva- 
 •iirior, with tim most ('^|»«'cial care that iht-y >liall 
 liciivorod hi'lint' aiiytiiini,^ else, what a >orvi('t' he is 
 iiii; lis, ami '.vhat a ridicuhjiis old i::oosf Ik- is. ( AW..s 
 /. ) Ah. tlu'ir tht'y arc, (laiicini: away, as ha|i|>y as 
 •day is loiiir. I am so happy too tliis l.iii^hl ;;lad 
 •iiiu: time. I could damo invsidf. 
 
 SF^RIN'i SoNti. 
 
 Spriiii:- time i^ here, so tjlad >o dear. 
 
 Sweet Miiiiiy season (»f' youth and of love ; 
 Klowers ijfi-ow hri-^'ht in the iflad Minliirht ; 
 
 KartI 
 
 I is as laii" as the heaven ahov 
 
 eams win I :ill have to run away, (/^rrfnois to <jn „i\ I,.) 
 
 Love while you ean. Since love Iteiran. 
 
 Spring is the season to woo and to wed. 
 Take then your day now while voii niav ; 
 
 Love time is past when the sj'.rin^^ time luis Med. 
 
 Siimim>r soon flies, an<l Aiitinnn last dies; 
 
 Spriiiir is the season tor |>lea>ure and n)i»"th : 
 <'hill is the cheer wImmi -a inter is n«'ai' ; 
 
 r.dd ^n»ws the heart with the i-oldness of earth. 
 
 Youth fair and jray will hasten away, 
 Hcaiity Hit's ott'cm a wild hird's win«'', 
 
 Love will not stay, seize then today, 
 
 No one can tell what the morrow inay hrini,'. 
 
 ilhirinii th« laal the ham the Mnirf. fuu re-^titrrrJ, R. /ol/oir^,/ l>»i 
 i/ilanne, and has fucn glnndin;/ hark, hf conwn jorward houiH;/.) 
 
 Maiuk. — Ah, churmiui; widow Barrie. so von hav«' 
 turned to us at last to make the ninhtinu^de^ die of 
 vy, aind tantalise our poor Inudielor lieartM with 
 iir charms. 
 
 .Mai>. li.— Now, if you are i^oiui,^ to talk nonscns*'. I 
 

 Maiuk. — (/Kistt'li/). CiiU'l widow! Imt pray doiit 
 (shr, ntiinis.) I shouM ho porfiu'lly content to ho ton; 
 tietl nil inv lift' if i nnu;ht onlv look at you. (Shr mm 
 iitnjji Ij, titjiilii.) All slay. {She stnj)s.) I ivally conM 
 help it, no ont^ can help payini^ you coinplintents, vi 
 Unow. (Shr mores ofi' H(/(tin.) 
 
 Mad. H. — I HOC I shall real!}* have to ^o, 
 
 ^Faiuk. — (lood «^raeions wliat am I sayini^! come Iuk 
 I hav'nt seen yon lor thi-i-e weeks, yon know. Sa\ 
 Is there anything I can do for you in Paris, my comii 
 is just startin<;. 
 
 />• 
 
 /; 
 
\m\y (lout J 
 
 f to ItO toilcru 
 M. ( S/w iiiih\ 
 
 •oally ('(Mild 
 pliiiK'nts, vi 
 
 uf ! come lt!i( 
 
 l\Ho\v. Siiv 
 
 iH, my I'oiiii, 
 
 ') No, thin 
 today. (I 
 poi'liaps vi 
 
 ' sisjci'^ |{ 
 
 w liuad-dri 
 
 17 
 
 col irriNC hCKT. 
 
 [Tiu' Mnii'f Mild widow l»airit'.] 
 
 i'aii- widow, I 
 
 itnrard <'a</ir 
 i/'/jroachtfi ,\ i/. 
 
 /'. prs///*',] All luTc i( I'omt's ! l^itfum/.'^ o-ood liyr ! 
 
 /. I... I... in I'act. llial is, voii ^cc I... I. 
 
 r. />. [nsi(f^^.^ hear inc. ijoor soiil. lu- .•* rrall\' v« in* 
 
 [sl.y. ■ 
 [^iilnu(l~\ What is il ? Anytliim^ that I ran do ? 
 
 /. All, that's ju«,( it ! (Uiiujulshiniih/.) AIi, il y«Hi 
 
 on!\ knew ! 
 
 r. /)'. Knew what ? (aside,) I do. yon drradfnl Koii-. 
 
 matter, it 
 
 (taht'A wii 
 i to .Madaii 
 
 civ OM Vdl 
 
 • ♦ 
 
 aine hIioji ; 
 
 {aaiih.) Ilow handsome she is, w liat a 
 Mairesse she would make ! Here ;^(»e> ! 
 {iihud.) Kair Widow... I . 
 
 am(> sliop : 
 
 !(f\ L. U. E 
 
 is done. 
 
 derat( 
 
 e yu 
 
 w. (tahesh 
 II IV {h> 
 
 v. Ti . Why, that i-. wliat yon said hefori' ! 
 
 I/. I'air Widow Harric, here njion my knee [/.;«'//.>] 
 
 ir. /». I*iay dont, noii'II Lfi t the ciani[), and then 
 
 [you'll >(•(• ! 
 
 I/. I love yon widow ! (asiifr.) 'I'lnrc it i> ont Hat . 
 
 If. /)'. Oh love! 'Phaf's all '/ Von'M soon ijet over that. 
 Such voiithliil maljidies u«Mr hesi f'ortifot. 
 
 I/. I know I am not still a >onth 
 
 r. ji. 
 
 3 
 
 You're not I 
 
 - • m : 
 
I 
 
 i ( 
 
 4- 
 
 M. 
 
 18 
 
 Niir liait«lMiiii(' a> I iin('<I to le, not (|iiiti> 
 
 Hu- 
 
 ll'. Ji. TjH)!! luy \v(»nl J really think you'iv ri^Hit 
 
 M. 
 
 [In fil'/iir (tiul iUsjttratiitnJ] 
 
 Oil liowitrliini; Widow, 
 
 Set', I never «li(l, oli, 
 
 Never sncii a woniaii <li<l I see. 
 
 \\\ li. Siitli a silly Maire Sir, 
 Is, 1 taney, rai't^ Sir. 
 As the one that's niaUin^ love t(» nie. 
 
 M. Chai-niin^ Widow liarrie, 
 
 Sav that voii will niarrv, 
 Say that yon will marry, nnirry nn-. 
 
 11 '. li . <'urtsr}/in<j, 
 
 Thanks, I'd I'athei" stay sir, 
 
 As I am today sir, 
 
 And Would rather, thaidv you, sin;;le he. 
 
 J/. Say yes, yes, yes. 
 
 ir. fi. Say !io, no, no. 
 
 .V. Ah ei-utd Wid(»w, can you ti*eaf uu» so ? 
 
 -led 
 
 ft 
 
 M-ll NNe 
 
 <t. n 
 
 iv*. 
 
 W. li . No, no, no, no. 
 
 {Exil MiiiUtuif li. J..) 
 
 ^f.^!UE. — The Maire of St. Ihii'ux retusi-d hv 
 dressmaUei' ! ir!n,well. Oh. she cannot mean it ! Tisi 
 
 Iiossihie ! There's sonu' mistake. iV-rhaps shethoui;!: 
 was only jokinii'. I*erhaj»s she «lid'nt ! Never inin'l 
 I'll pay you oft' for this my lady ! 1 know ! Ill pr» 
 tend thai I've luid iid'ormation that she is eoneernn 
 
 \\1 
 
 r 
 
 Tl 
 A 
 A 
 W 
 
 Ih 
 A I 
 At 
 Ar 
 
 W 
 
 W 
 
 w 
 
 Jh 
 
 A I 
 T! 
 
 Tl 
 
 I'l 
 A 
 I' 
 V 
 
 Kilter Mo I 
 ind H'im 
 
I 
 
 V . 
 
 i»e 
 
 () 
 
 me />'. J.. 
 
 it ! Tis'i, 
 
 W tlioUi-l 
 
 COlICi 
 
 1!) 
 
 lliis jilot :iii<l Oiiit I shall Itc nl»li;r,M| to imvf iu'i- 
 ir-lixl aiitl M-arclH'd. Tltat will tViirlil«Mi Im'i- mikI 
 
 H'll W (' S 
 
 hall 
 
 s<«i» 
 
 I't'i'liMps sjic wont (h'spiso tin* Miiii-*' 
 s\. \W\vi\x thou, thoiijt^'h hv is not 4|iiit(> so v<»uni( Ms he 
 
 TIIK OLDISH MAX. 
 
 Tis hard to ho an " oldish man " 
 Who wants to chanu:!' his lilb. 
 'Tis hard to hit upon a plan 
 To ^ot a |)rctty wile. 
 
 Tho jidly days whon wo woro yotini^ 
 Ami rattU'd round tho town, 
 And redo and dancoil, and Iov(m| and siinij 
 Woro whon thoso iiaii's woro l>r(»wn : 
 
 Hut now thoy'ro just a tiitio ^^ray 
 And I'vo^n-own hrown instoa<l 
 At halls, ojrls lilv(> nio host away 
 And say I danoo liko load. 
 
 Wo iiad no aohos ov pains or ifroans 
 Nor indi;^ostion then ; 
 Wo iiovor know that wo had Ixuios, 
 Wo niori'v youn;,nsh inon. 
 
 JJut n<iw (In- htdlos havi' <)tiior hoaux 
 And oth(>r flirts to Ian 
 'I'hoN' dont tan nio, for no ono knows 
 Tho wrotohod (ddish man. 
 
 I'ni ju>t as youni; as ovor now, 
 And danoo I'm suro I ojin. 
 I'm not disposo<l 1o mako my how 
 I'm not an oldish man. 
 
 (/Cxii }hirc, K.) 
 
 Ill ,„ ^nru.wnrr,n.) 
 
 »lM'0l'nri '^"'''■^''/'"'/'f'"* f>fn«*' rum/imj (rai/ with hreiiil, Homln^ir/teH^l.iUe /-A.//* 
 'in<f wine, shf i>ut9 if 'hwu iinH urtit taUc.] 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 

 ' K *• -' 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.2.5 
 
 50 
 
 Ilia i2-5 
 13^2 
 
 .ii lllitt 
 
 1.4 
 
 2.2 
 [ ZO 
 
 1.6 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 iV 
 
 \\ 
 
 % 
 
 V 
 
 IV" 
 
 ^ 
 
 <> 
 
 % 
 
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4^ 
 
 
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20 
 
 Mauik. — Wlia< a delicious i\i\y tliis lias hoon to 
 sure ! I've (laiUH'd tour limes witlj uioiif-iieiir hiival. im 
 I'ieri'c is as jealous niid sulky as possiMe. Oli i 
 ('hai'iiiiiii;' I Poor iellow, I must maUe it up a_iaiii 
 tiuTt' will 111! pistols and Itluiidoi'husses in the c; 
 and that will never do. What a happy _i;drl I am tn 
 su»"e to have some one to love me so despt'i';ii<' 
 ( ,s/«_7.v. ) 
 
 PKASANT S()X(i. 
 
 A liKle jteasant u,ii-l am I, 
 
 A simjtie villai!;e maid, no more; 
 
 All day 1 siiii;; vithout a sij^-h, 
 
 No (roiihlcis pass m\' cottai;'!' door. 
 
 l''or all thiuii's love me. so 1 sini;', 
 * Bi'cause my lieart is ever nay ; 
 
 J hear the n'lad hirds eai-ollinii', 
 I know I am as irlnd as thev. 
 
 I would not (dianL:,'e my simjde stale, 
 Foi* all the (duirms of life at eoui't ; 
 
 I woidd not live amoni;st the i;'reat, 
 For all their ]>ride so dearly ho(i;;ht. 
 
 A little fun, a little dance, 
 
 A soMij: to eheer jnv dailv task, 
 
 Thesunnv skv (dsunuv France, 
 A little love, is all 1 ask. 
 
 ( A'.iitV into /mtixf, A j 
 
 {Enter rirn't', J.. L\ h\) 
 
 At close 
 
 Uiiii ente.i 
 
 Black 
 
 There miss ! You've done it now. This is the Inst til 
 the W'vy lust time. Four times f<he danced with hi 
 four times, and 1 asked her n«)t. Oh, .Marie, Mar 
 how can you ho so cruel to oiu? who loves you 
 <l(^arly ! ill^oaway, ^o otf to sea. and then j>erh;i 
 she will I'ememher her poor old faithful lover, {jsinyi' 
 
 PlERH 
 Bioks dt } 
 
 Hi.Arh 
 
 •,ii<:;liHhi 
 
 <)U kn< 
 I have 
 it of sp 
 
^i 
 
 '•{'Oil T') i 
 '■ l>iival. Ill] 
 •l<'. OIm 
 
 i|> a^-jiiii 
 II I he c.'i 
 I I am to 
 <l<'Sj)('i':itc 
 
 •t ; 
 
 L-Il(. 
 
 fO hnll-^'- A 
 
 u' last (ill 
 1 Willi liii 
 
 YOU'LL TIIIN^K OF MM. 
 
 l)cai* love, despite youi* ei'Uel words, 
 
 I know yoiii' lioai'l i> true, 
 You cannot help l)iit love nie, wweet. 
 
 So dearly 1 love yon. 
 Imh" 1 am yoiii-s, and you ai'e mine, 
 Tlioni!;h sea.s may roll between, 
 An<l other stars may on me shine; 
 You'll think oi" wliat, has been. 
 When J am lai- away, deai", 
 
 Fai-, I'ai' away at sea, / 
 
 When dark night follows day, dear. 
 Ah, then j-cni'll think ol" Tue. 
 
 You'll say whate're his faults may Ih> \ 
 
 He ever loved me well. 
 True hearts lU'e worth a woman's smile 
 
 The ]>oarl out-lives its shell. 
 And you will call, and 1 shall come, 
 
 Sly darliHi;', baek again 
 To that swTet side, my own sweetheart, 
 Which now I leave in pain. > 
 
 When I am far away, dear, 
 
 Far, far away at sea, 
 When dark night follows day, dear, 
 Ah, then you'll think of me. 
 
 Al cloHf of sontj he u gohvj off R. when the }ftnrej BlacJaoiuth and 
 hiiie enter from house carn/ing DuvaV » port manteuu ^ which the// xtt 
 
 'ICil C] 
 
 IJlacksmitii. — Hullo ! Pierre, lad, where are \(»u off 
 
 FiKKRE. — 1? Oh I was only going for a walk, (jlldn'r 
 '/hs (It him, he turns mcay.) 
 Hi.ArKSMfTH. — Well, stay. We're going to search that 
 
 n'ie, Mai'il'iigliHhmaii's baggage while he's away at the dance. Do 
 • es yoii oil know, he is a rank cons])iralor ! Why, we might 
 len ]K>rh;i ill have been murdered in our beds ! ]*utVed out like a 
 'r. (.s//t^^s. '>t of sparks ! What a monster ! 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 22 
 
 PrKHiiK. — (To Marie,') There ! I told you ho ! an(lj§lAiHK. — ^| 
 Avonld'nt believe lue. Now, wlio was i-ight ? 
 
 rO liT ^[ AXT r. All Q U AIITETT K. 
 
 Quick, quick, before be comes back, 
 Quick, quick, o])cn bis pack, 
 Pick the b)ck or turn the key, 
 We shall see what we shall see. 
 
 Maiue. Stand ])ack, <j;ood people, I'm the Mairt; 
 Of course it's 1 must see what's there. 
 
 (ICneels on one knee be/ore portmanteau, C, the rest slandin; 
 hieelint/, R. & L. of him.) 
 
 Coats, waistcoats, linen, that's all ri,i;ht. 
 What's this ? Here's something* tied up tigh 
 A lady's portrait, done in chalk, 
 An empty bottle, and a cork (smells hottle.) 
 Contents, bail' oil, in all his boots ! 
 A pistol, so 1 thought, he shoots. 
 A brush and comb, a box of ])ills, 
 A toothbrush and a pile of bills, 
 A pii)e, a picture of a horce, 
 A piiir of spurs, and whi]), of course, 
 A lad3''s slipper, I declare ! 
 And why, what's this? [opens a ln?\/e br< 
 paper parcel. ] Some locks of hair ! 
 
 LACK SMI 
 
 ave iin 
 
 \\\ ! {thrf^ 
 
 [aiue. 
 
 s, my fi| 
 
 That'* 
 
 ihaiice. 
 
 iiispirac 
 
 on the <I 
 
 ;tt's thcil 
 
 oiiish tlh 
 
 s indeed 
 
 uitrv bu 
 
 : thing. 
 
 illO at 
 
 y tluit's 
 
 ris at on 
 
 ^JARIE.— 
 
 ^Iaire. — 
 nights, ^ 
 iiy stran 
 federate 
 11 have 
 uinff. 
 
 (jii 
 
 All. 
 
 A book, tine books the fellow reads ! 
 
 Toluicco and some famous wee^ls. 
 
 Upon my word a very good cigar, [puts cigar 
 
 his pocket'] . 
 At last, here are his papers, [pulls out packet] 
 
 Ah !... 
 
 (Exeunt 
 \kr MadU' 
 
so 
 
 
 aii'l \ 
 
 )1'0. 
 
 'e,^t .staudi'n 
 
 I lip tio-Iit 
 I'ottle.) 
 
 23 
 
 \\\\\v.. — Now then I'll tr:uisla(o tliem for you. 
 LACKSMiTii. — (adiniriniihj.) AVhat a tine tiiiiiii- il is 
 liive ail education, to l»e sure. Why I can't even read 
 n\ ! (Jlwy all (/athcr round the Jfairc.) 
 [aire. — (reads). " The count is quite safe, " Ah here 
 s, my fi'iends ! I thoui>}it so ! The count is quite 
 
 >: That's the Conite de J^i'ovence ! '' JJonv has'nt 
 
 liimce. " That's lionaj)ai'te ! hei-e's treason ! here's 
 
 Mispiracy ! " Put all the money you can lay hands 
 on tliC old liorse. He'll win !'' '• Old horse, " indeed ! 
 iit's tlieir way of hidiiiii; tlie real names. '• AVe'll 
 
 mish the country ])um[)kins " the country hinnp- 
 
 s indeed ! That's me ! me! Wesliall see wliether the 
 iti'v l)um])kins wont astonish you. " ft will he a 
 tiling". There's a pot of money in it. We shall land 
 00 at least, if it's kept dark. " 10,000 ! Wliew ! 
 IV that's an army ! He must be arrested and sent to 
 is at once, this iceneralissimo of eons})irators. 
 \Iarie. — Arrest Monsieur Duval ? 
 Iaire. — Of course ! rei'ha])s, tlioui^h, on secon«l 
 uii'hts, we had better wait till night. There are so 
 my strangers in the crowd to-day. They may be his 
 ifed(M-ates. I sus])ect that dressmaker is in it too. 
 11 have her searched. Hush, don't say Ji woi'd. She's 
 
 ((?'</e 
 ir! 
 
 br 
 
 '(fii 
 
 fits cigar I 
 -ket] . 
 ^t packet] 
 
 >n 
 
 iiintr. 
 
 a 
 
 HUSH." (Quartette.) 
 
 Hush ! hush ! liusli ! hush ! 
 
 J)on't speak so loud. 
 Hush ! hush ! hush ! husli ! 
 Beware the crowd. 
 Arrested he, 
 It's clear, must be. 
 The secret keep 
 Till he's asleep. 
 We'd better go. 
 
 Go, go, go, go. 
 
 {Exeunt in different directions. Blacksmith carrying portcmantcau, 
 kr Madame Barrie L, U. E. she looks back L as she enters.) 
 
 ir 
 

 24 
 
 .M.\i»K. B. — How verv odly t\\v Ma'nv looked atjlvn. 1*. 
 JiiNt now. J wonder if lie Ims diHCOvei-ed anythini;. m [{(.ion ( 
 that's impossiMe, Besides, 1 can do anytliinii; I plo uvai-.- 
 with liini. I llnnk I'll tell Cliai'Iey wlio'l am tlioii^l ]aI). B. 
 nii.i;'iit want a friend. Ali, liert^ he eoinct^. {Knfir 
 val IL) Monsieur Diivai ! 1 want to ask 3-011 a (^iiest 
 
 Duval. — A dozen if you will. 
 
 A[ai>k. II. — Would yuu do nie a sei'viec ? 
 
 DiVAL. — Certainly. I wish, Ihoujjjh, you would 
 me who you really are. Vou arc not a dressina 
 Come now ! 
 
 M.MiK. 1). — AVell, you'll ]»romise that yotill ni-ver 
 any <mc. (Beckons /lim r/otic.) 1 am. (Aside.) Sh:ill 
 Xo I wont ! (Aloud.) I am, Sir, (fr/ti\</f(rin<j.) 
 
 l.)r VAT-. — (Emjer/y.) Yes? 
 
 MAt>K I). — A woman ! 
 
 I)i VAi.. — (aside) l)isa[)})ointin.i;" ereatui-e! (kI/, 
 Madame that is ([uite enoui;-li, you may cojumand 1 
 
 Mah. B. — (Asi(fe.) he's cliarming 1 really must ti 
 him. (Aloud.) I'll tel! you really who I am. 
 
 l>i VAL. — I know ! a woman ! and my uiu 
 
 friend. AVhat do you want me to do ? 
 
 Made B. — 1 am the Comtesse de Beaudiv. 
 
 IH \AL.— (Startii.) The Condesse de Beaudry I tl 
 vou must Ite 
 
 ^L\i)i; 1). — Vour cousin ^lary, who has rememhc 
 her cousin Charley hotter than ho her, in spite oj' 
 >ears. 
 
 l)i VAL. — Whv Mav ! vou <lai"lini!: ! I''ancvmv not w 
 iiMiisinii* vou. Bnt 1 did tiiouii-h. I said I had seen ^ 
 befoi-e, di<rnt I ? [fries to fake her /land — she erodes /n. 
 
 y\.\\). B. — (iently, cousin Charley, you must 
 memher that 1 am no loni>;ei* the kitten yoii use^ 
 play with years ago, hut a stjud sober widow. 
 
 hrvAL. — Oil vou are a widow! 
 .Ma!>. B. — Ves, my uiiha]>]\y married life en<led s 
 \ears ago in those tei'i'ihle davs of the l^evolution. .\ 
 no wonder v<>n <Iid not recoifuise me ! I have (diaiii 
 sa<lly grown old and })Iaiii. 
 
 IMVAL. — You're more ehai'min<x than ever ! 
 
 VAL.- 
 
 mge vol I 
 
 liAl), *B. 
 
 iiicate<l 
 I) has loll 
 cv all hii 
 icar in Fj 
 »rvAL. — 
 lAn. B.- 
 ti'i' day c 
 irvAL. — 
 I all aloii! 
 I A I). B. 
 spring t 
 III the wii 
 
 KoUiJir 
 
 Thr 
 (iav 
 
 Ami 
 Am 
 
 Jhit 
 Wit 
 
 Wit 
 
 To< 
 
»la'<l ;ilM|\i». I). — I ! wliy I \v;i-< a waslu'i-woinaii all llii-(»ii^l> 
 
 Ihiiii;-. mijcjo-n ofTorroi-. 
 
 iiii" I iiKpicvAL. — Ami a (ii-cssmaUtM- now. 
 
 11 th()iii,'l§l|.\i,. \\, — AikI du' Cointossc (1(> lU'andry ai-aiii soon. 
 liVAi-. — All, \vi' sliall SCO al»out thai. Voii may 
 inL;o your iiamo. But wliy did you iiovcr writo us ? 
 l.\i». H. — From jxditical reasons. I liavt* ncvoi- coni- 
 licatod with aiiv <>f ouj* t'aiuiiv except vour uneic, 
 1 has lonii; ago foroiven mo my chiiKh'stiiio inanMaiic. 
 I'V all helieve me to he di-ad, ludeed, I daic not 
 loar in Pranee undei' my own name. 1 am an out-law. 
 
 VAi.. — .\n outlaw ! 
 [ad. li. — Yes, hut I shall not l»e so loni;". thei'e ai'e 
 ter day eomini;-, meantime 1 work and wait. 
 tiVAL. — Tlien you ean feel lor me who have loviil 
 I all ah)ii_ij and waited lor you all these yeai's. 
 Iau. I). — Oil, we ai-e hoth youni;' yet. This is still 
 ^pi'inii; time ofour lives. Where would youi- love 
 M the winter. 
 
 (J'Jntir 
 a (juevt 
 
 W(Mll(| 
 
 Iressniii 
 
 11 never 
 
 '.) Shall 
 
 ^) 
 
 3! (alo 
 mmaiK 
 
 must ti 
 
 mv uiu 
 
 rv ! ti 
 
 nemhe 
 »ite of 
 
 V not vc 
 
 seen } 
 
 (li.lcS III. 
 
 must 
 u use.j 
 
 (led s( 
 
 KMI. 
 
 A 
 
 chain 
 
 K'()r;(;ii iu^ktimk axd tifk simmxc-timk. 
 
 Throuii'li hud-time and the s|)rinjj!;-time 
 (Jay youth and hajvpy I'ino- time 
 
 While vou and J are younii*. deaj* 
 Then love is sweet : 
 And flowers are never faded. 
 And lives are never shaded, 
 
 And hearts are never wrnui;-, dear, 
 Wlien lovers meet. 
 
 ihit when eomes frost and blow time, 
 Witl) stoi-m and sleet and snow time, 
 And you and I grow" old, <iear, 
 And cares come fast. 
 With neither sun nor flowers 
 To cheer these heai'ts of ours 
 
 Through wintei" dark atid cohl, <loar, 
 AVill your love last ? 
 
 
' 
 
 p 
 
 26 
 
 Diictfa. 
 
 ^■ 
 
 I Wwi ) 
 
 wlu'ii cuiiK's I'l'o^t and Idow time 
 
 ( Y<'s ) 
 Willi storm Jiiid sK'i't and siiow-tinu', 
 AikI yoii and I urow old, ^Wi\\\ 
 And cait's foriic fast ; 
 Willi noil her sun noi* llowers 
 To ( licer llicsc Ijoarts of* ours, 
 
 Tln'ouiijli wintor dark and cold, dour, 
 \ Will you I' love hist, } 
 I .My love will last. \ 
 
 [At the chiKC (if thf Ihult a iiolc is f/irmrn out of (he coUoiitt win'ii, 
 /ti/ia at their fret . Diiral fur/cK it ii/i.] 
 
 DrvAi.. 
 U.M). B 
 
 hUVAL. 
 
 linic'w I'eJ 
 (I rntu bt 
 Mad H. 
 II last. 
 Duval 
 anks U) 
 Mad. B 
 Duval. 
 
 I. I IX'LC 
 
 t? 
 Mad. I 
 [>u^h. 
 Duval. 
 
 |)i VAL. — What's this ! (readn). " f>ont apix'ar t.o 
 any not leu. hut you avc uatclu'd. The -Maire is ;;(i 
 to have yo'i and niadame ai'ie>ted and seai'elicfl. V' 
 IViend Marie "' 
 
 .M.\n. \\. — Seai'idied I [d.vdc^ he's found me out ! 
 
 i)i VAL. — Arrested 1 This must he a joke. 
 
 Mao. P). — Xo it is'nt. 1 know ! It's all my fault, 
 have u'ot \<)U into ti-ouhle hy talking with you so nui 
 
 hrv.M-. — Vou ! how ? 
 
 .Mam. H — Well I may as x/ell tell you eveiytlii 
 That letter was from the ('omte di' Droveiiee. 
 
 Dival. — And vou ai-e ? 
 
 .Mad. P,.— Dreeisely !... 
 
 DrvAL. — Have you i>'ot that letter with you ! 
 
 Mad. B. — My own part 1 have ; the enclosure 1 > 
 off to Paris Ion;;' ai^o, that is safe ! 
 
 DrvAL. — Uow '} 
 
 Mad. B. — The .Maii'e was so ohlio-inir as to send 
 his own courier witli it. {lauijIdiKj.) 
 
 |)rvAF.. — (lnii(/hiih/,) I sec! woman's wit against 
 world ! I»ut ^ivo me that letter. 
 
 Mad. ]}.— What will you do with it? They will 
 you. 
 
 T W.trr«=^WT1tf^^ the i 
 
 \'V yoi 
 minien' 
 
 Mad. 
 ju're ha 
 I ask m< 
 
 Mairk. 
 ,111 to(> r 
 
 DrvAii 
 
 Maihk. 
 ii»Ui;"h I 
 
 Mad. 1 
 
 DUVAI 
 
 ;N[aihk 
 id proii 
 
 I disirui 
 
 on wit! 
 aluahle 
 turned iii 
 li,od»t s 
 amtcss 
 \h, you 
 ua-niak 
 uaniaki 
 iini of 
 
 t'f Iicr.] CousiH Mary, tell**inC' Imay ho])e ! ^j ^,, 
 
n 
 
 (Di'VAi,.— I'll eat it. 
 \l.\D. K— Kat it! 
 
 l|>'jVAL.— Yes, why not? (j,oi/>f.s to tahh) Jfcre 
 n^'w reat' 
 
 ever 
 
 ' time 
 iiiic, 
 
 V. 
 
 ly. ^ I'll make a saivlwich of it. {Hits at table 
 II must have improved since I saw 
 
 7 ruts bread.) 
 
 I.Mai> B. — How yo 
 
 til last. You iia<i no taste lor literature tl 
 
 icn. 
 
 man of letters now. 
 
 J>UVAL — At all events I shall bo a 
 [anks to your hrii^ht e^'es 
 
 Mad. \\.- {OJeriii'j buttur on a huff..) Hutter. 
 
 \)\J\\\..—{Not seeiti'j If.) No it isn't. (Sees butter.) 
 ii. I l-ei,^ pardon. (Takes butler.) Is anylxxly cminir 
 
 Mad. n.—(LooJcu>,j of, L.) Not yet. Make ha.ste 
 
 ou^h. 
 
 Duval. — I saj-, Cousin Mary, tell me I may hope. 
 
 »i)eai' to Ha' • I • I . 
 
 ;....:. . Wt''" y*'" ■' saiwhvirh, \.y\\(\ I c.-mnoi jtarneiiiari \ n- 
 
 iiiinend thotn, tliey'i'e veiy toui;!). 
 
 .Mad. R. — All, my deal" monsieui' le Maire (lauihin<f) 
 
 here have voii heen liidinL;: vourseil ? Y'ou nevei- came 
 
 ;i>^k me foi' a danee. 
 
 Mairk. — 11! i^ive you a dance ])re-ently. madame. and 
 
 111 too mon>ienr. (fo Ihiral) 
 
 DrVAii. Thanks', hut T dont dance >lo\v dances. 
 
 Maihe. Xever fear, the one I '])i"opose will he fa>t 
 
 iioUii:h foi- y^ur taste, (vnfohh praclaviation) 
 
 Mad. n. — (A.'iide to Duraf.) lie means nnschief. 
 
 |)IVAI.. — (Aside) Old porcupijie ! let him ! 
 
 Maihk. ( Reads.) "a most danujerous i-on>ipirat«»r 
 
 , , Hiid i>i-onounced Rovalist is known to he now somewhei-e 
 
 losure I nI 1- • 4i • 4 . ui • ■ 
 
 1 disjruiM' on the western coa-^t. She is in eommuniea- 
 
 inii with the Comte de Provence, and prohahly ean-ies 
 
 aluahje ]>apers. See that all suspicious persons are 
 
 inmcd lately arrested and closely scar(dK'd. She has a 
 
 lii^ht seal- on her left ai-m, and hei- real name is the 
 
 omtesse de Heaudrv." (Made Barrie gives a slight start.') 
 
 \h, you turn i)ale, Madame Barrie ! Widow Barrie! man- 
 
 a-makei". from Paris! Ohlige mc. Madame Barrie. man- 
 
 , • ,, , -..amaker, from Baris, hv uncoveiinu' that charminii- left 
 
 "r*-> ^ irm of vours, (he tries 
 
 ngover tl;t,,jrmrs it.) ko \ so! 
 
 Mad B. — Sir. vou are rude ! 
 
 d, dear, 
 
 (/ll'it/f; iri/iili 
 
 aire is ^-ni 
 relied. \' 
 
 no out ! 
 
 my fault, 
 you so uiii 
 
 evcr\-tlii! 
 ce. 
 
 'Oil ! 
 
 ^ to send 
 against ! 
 'hev wil 
 
 irm of yours, (he tries to take Iter hand. She hastily 
 
 'ill "i. £ ^ I I 
 

 \ »•! »A ^,, 
 
 t i * • 
 
 ,1. i 
 
 * { 
 
 
 \. 
 
 • »' V 
 
 CI 
 
 \1.M>. 1 
 
 prvAi. 
 (1 l<>nu,| 
 iv t liin 
 \I.M». 1>.| 
 
 1)1 10 of l| 
 
 IM VAI,. 
 
 icorii. 
 
 vatlv. 
 
 V . 1 1. • . \ I l.l«' I ••! ) . 
 
 anv iioticu. Iml yoii aro watflied. Tlic .Maiiv is <;in 
 to liavt' NO'.i and madamc ari'ostcd and scai'iduvl. \ 
 IVltMid Mai'ii' ' 
 
 .Map. I*>. — Si'arfdK'd ! [/^vV/^] he's tnaud mc out ! 
 
 .1)1 V A L. — Ari'ostcd 1 This must lie a joUe. 
 
 Mad. H. — Xo it isiit. 1 know! h'> all inv t'auli. 
 
 have ,ii:<)t yon into ti'ouMe hy talUint:; with you >o niii 
 
 1)1 val. — Von ! how V 
 
 ;M \i,. ii__\Vell 1 may as well tell you every tlii 
 
 That letter was from the Conite de Provenee. 
 
 Hi NAT.. — And vou are ? 
 
 Mai.. F,.--l*reei>.dy 1... 
 
 l),vvi.. — Have you ii'ot that letter with you ! 
 
 y]^]), B. — My own part I have ; the enclosure 1 > 
 off to Paris Ion-;- ai;o, tiiat is .safe ! 
 
 J)i val. — How ? 
 
 Mad. H. — The Maire was so ohli<;in.i;- as t<» send 
 his own eoiiJ'iej" with it. {laui/hiiKj.) 
 
 J)rvAL. — (laa</fiinf/,) \ see! woman's wit against 
 woi'ld ! l>ut ^ive me that letter. 
 
 Mad. 1^.— What will you do with it? They will 
 
 you. .. 
 
 Til' v a t; . "I 'l l Vl[{V ^^f(if{tT'(T'^<ui.<7inch, puUiuilthc h 
 (c/ilrh she (fiirs hiiii.^cuutLuUiilif, insflftrr'^^ t 
 
 tu her.^ ('ou.siH Mju'v, tell me I ifmy hope ! 
 
 
 l\iifcr thi' 
 iiii'iilli/y sfii 
 
 ]>i VAi-.- 
 or vou 
 
 iiiimend 
 Mad. B. 
 licre hav 
 i ask nn- 
 Maiuk.- 
 .11 too m< 
 
 DtVAti. 
 
 Maihk. 
 
 [lOUlidl I'ol' 
 
 Mad. B.- 
 
 |)t:VAi-.- 
 
 Maihk. 
 
 iid pronoi 
 
 disguise 
 
 on with ' 
 
 :ilualde ] 
 
 rimed iat(' 
 
 ,ight sea 
 
 Diiitcsse < 
 
 ,h, you ti 
 
 la-maker 
 
 lamaker, 
 
 •m of yf 
 
 a /)(!/'( ni'S 
 
 ,Mad H. 
 
27 
 
 |K-;ir n> III 
 
 i\' is ^-(li 
 •lio.l. V 
 
 c out ! 
 
 iiv fault. 
 
 >U >0 IHll 
 
 13 vol 
 
 vtlii 
 
 m ! 
 Axvv 1 > 
 
 to soml 
 :i gainst 
 ivy will 
 ag^the h 
 
 \\\\K n.---P('rlia|»> ! 
 
 |)i \\i,. — \'(\ cat tit'ty ii'ttors, all stitl pai'diincnl. a 
 
 I'd loiiii', willi that f'oi' a rolisli ! l''ort uiiatcly lliis is 
 
 v thin paprr. Tlu'ii tiu' silk lrii>int'ss ? 
 
 \|aI). 1). — l'^ tho iH'storatioii of flic I'iii-htful lirir lo lliu 
 
 rone of rraiH'c. the ^'ointc <l(.'. Provence. 
 
 [)rVAi,. — n.v .love, tlicii I'm an active partiici- in the 
 
 cei'M. (^/ii'./ins t') (•((!.) I'm swallowiim' the prolil^ 
 rcatly. 
 
 Eiifrr t/ir Miiiir^ llliirhsiitith nn I /\'''rrr. A. Diirnl hmrs to Ihr .Vnirr 
 icii/li/^ Htill f'lhiii/,] 
 
 hrvAi,. — My (leaf nioiisieur Ic Maire. allow inc to 
 
 cv yon a san^lwicli, ti'iic, I cannot pai-liciilai'ly ic- 
 
 iiimcnd tliein, they're very touuli. 
 
 \l AD, B. — All, my deal' monsicMir le .Maire {Idn/hiii'/) 
 
 litie liav«> you been iiidini;' youfself ? Y(»u nevei' came 
 
 i:isk me for a dance. 
 
 Mai UK. — I'll «::ive you a dance ]>resently. madanie. and 
 
 II too monsieur. ( to Duval) 
 
 hrVAh. 'riiaiiks, hut I dont dance slow dance*. 
 .Mairk. Xcver fear, the one I ' pro])<)-e will he fa>t 
 muiidi for y^ur taste, (vhfohh prochimaHhn ) 
 .Mad. I). — (Aside lo Duvaf.) lie means mis{diief. 
 hiv.M,. — (Aside) Old porcupine ! let him ! 
 Maihk. ( h'eads.) " a most dan<i;erous consjiiralor 
 d |)ronounced Royalist is known to he now soiiKAvhere 
 diso-iiisc on (he western coa«^t. She is in communica- 
 )\i with the Comtc de Provence, and prohahly carries 
 lualde pajiers. See that all susjiicious persons are 
 imediately arrested and closely searclied. She ]ia> a 
 light scar on her lel't arm, and her real nanic is tlu' 
 nmtcsse de Heaudi-y." {Made Barric (/ires a s/i'jfif start.) 
 ,h, you turn ])ale, .Madame Barric ! Widow Barrie! man- 
 la-maher, from Paris! ()hli«;e mv. .Ma<lame Barrie. nian- 
 lamaker, from Paris, by uncoverinu' that (diartninii' left 
 
 III of yours, (he tries to take her hand. She liasi'hj 
 
 i/ovcr t^if/tdrau-s it.) So ! so ! 
 
 .Mad p. — Sir. vou are rude ! 
 
2ft 
 
 M \iin;.— ( 'liuniiiiii;' wi-l »\v ! ruxMiialiiii^ \vi<|(>\v I v 
 \vo)''.;'iil \vv\ rivil In im- jiiht now. it's iiiv im 
 (/iiiiii.s) " S:iv vi'-, \i's, vi's." 
 
 .M.\i» li. (/utnts) '* S;iv no. no, no."' I rcfiiM'. him 
 >ic'iii'. (\'i'lainl\- not ! How daiT voii I Voii insult n 
 lii't'inix' I am only a niant iia-niaki'i', as you know vci 
 wt'll. Ir i wi'i'f tliis ('ounics^ olyours I warrant \ 
 wouM sjM'aU <liiriM'fnlly. What I do I look likt 
 Countess? IndtHMl ! { irti//;s acro.ss thr stdijc uni/nircfiilhi 
 |)u I Npcak like a ('oiniti'ss? {tifx-ahn;/ rtxirscli/.) Ila\ 
 till' aii's of a ('oiintoss ? No monsieur. I am <»iif oC 
 Ix'oplc. .May all ( 'ountt's.st's j^t't thoii' (le>(M"ls, I .sa\. 
 
 .Maikk. — i.s/nirfi/ ,ifi'/ sdrcdsliiutUji,) \ ov\ wi'll, w; 
 MadanK'. I il call onr of tlu* jkojjIi' to c.xamim.' v^' 
 ((Joes up harl; and hn'kons off. Jj. ) 
 
 .M.\i». II. — {iisit/(. In Dui'dl) Xi'vi'r IVar, I can in 
 na,i;'c my inaro Capital tun is'nl it? 
 
 I)rv.vi,. — ((tfi'hin Well I (lont know, v</u'vo i-'ot a li 
 jiim|) to s!t, lake it steadily, yivc Ijoi* lici- jioad. 
 
 .M.\i>. I). — \jhsl(lr~\ Not I ! I always i-idc on the cm 
 You'll s(H' what a s|»lendi(l hand 1 ha\i'. 
 
 [Ihiriutj till- lorri/diiiif ukiJcx^ Iht chorux lutx /iccnjiliiif/ in L. I'. I\.\ 
 
 AIai>. li. — [^Tur/u'/Kj to the chorus and i/ttcrru/)fin<j t 
 Mitirr who is ijointi to spiu(l;'\ Friends, our o-ood Mai 
 calleil you to hear a little sonjj; whi<di he wants lue 
 sin^- to you. [iisidr to Md'/t"] You'd hottei- listen. 
 
 TIIH .MAIJ^K OP ST. IJfUKrx. 
 
 A Maire ol'St. Hrieux, so rnv storv u'oes, 
 
 Was hut tivi' foot four when he stood on his toes; 
 
 lie was si.\ty-nine, an'l he wore a wi^, 
 
 Hut thougli ho was little, his wislies woiv hii;-, 
 
 He was tired, he said, of a haelielor life, 
 
 lie wanted a nurse, hut lie wisiie<l for a wife ; 
 
 How sl»all r many? and what shall 1 (h)? 
 
 AVha' shall I do?'s;ud the Maire of St. Brieu.x. 
 
 (Jallant and ix'iy '>nt he wandei'i^l to eoui-t, 
 (^uite ii'i'esistihle too, so he thought : 
 
 \u\ his n 
 i> i-ye's 
 liciimat 
 MliMia 
 I'll liny 
 
 jirctly 
 III! the 
 (• vowe 
 i charm 
 Mild'nt 
 ic'd ha\ 
 IK I a ga 
 Midd'nt 
 
 !• fell oi 
 lit' wido 
 W'ooini: 
 liruid a 
 I thaidv 
 Siudi a 
 Thank; 
 Althoui 
 
 I Pin ill'/ t 
 r aUi'ididii 
 
 .\r.\iiiE. 
 
 at u|)oii 
 i)st ridi 
 .\Iai). I 
 at an}- 
 the hi 
 ere wit 
 (led tiii 
 yalists 
 .Maiuk. 
 Mad. 1 
 
 .NfAIltE, 
 
21) 
 
 widow I V 
 
 's MIV tiii^ 
 
 rtifiiNO. nil 
 (XI iiisiilt > 
 
 II l<llo\V Vcr 
 
 ^van'juii \ 
 look lil<," 
 
 t/ii/nirt'/iillfi 
 
 n <»!K' oj' tl 
 (x, I >;iv. 
 
 well, \V;i 
 camiiK' y>'< 
 
 1 can iL 
 
 V(> i^ot a hi 
 
 ead. 
 
 i)li the ciir 
 
 // A. r. /•;.] 
 emipfinf/ ti 
 Li'ood Ma 
 vaiits nil' t 
 istcii. 
 
 t<»cs 
 
 ^! 
 
 X. 
 
 wa-^ oM, lu' was ii^ly, ami >illy as \v»«ll, 
 |i«l lii^ iiaiiu' \i was, — Ah, would voii like me to tell ? 
 
 eves tlu'V Wi'iit ill. lull his (ciMli they wcit out ; 
 jliciimalics lic'd iiad, and a tuiu'li of the /^(uit, 
 |^lll^la iK'sidi'-i, and llio lie iIumIoi'cux : 
 iiiiMiy old man wuh Mio inairo ol'Sl. Urioux. 
 
 |ii'f(ly yoiinu; widow catuc trax'Iiii;;: lliat wa}', 
 iii| the inayoi'fi'll in love, lit>ad and cars in a day; 
 I' vowcil that III' lu'vor had si'iMi snch a one, 
 icliarniini;- a widow, not, imdiM- tlu' sun: 
 
 iild ii( she. woiild'nl s!ii> niai'i'N- a .Maii-e V 
 
 c 
 
 ic'd have silk>. an<l hrocades, and line salins to wi-ar. 
 in! a n'allanl i;-ay hiishand. if not very now, 
 'uld'nt she niari'v the niaire of St. jiriciix ? 
 
 I' fell on his kniH's with a i^i'oan, tlii'n hi' sin-hcd — 
 lit' widow looked down witli a laiii;-h, thi'ii rrplicd : 
 Wooing and cooiniij at'e out of youi- lino 
 lii'Mol and |)hysio ai'o not, sii-, in niino; 
 Ihank you, kind sir. hut I'd vathor not wed 
 i( h a funny old man with no hair on his head ; 
 Thank you, kind sir, hut I can'l marr}- you 
 Althou«^-h j'ou'rc the gallanl, gay .Mairoof Si. lirieux. 
 
 Piiriiii/ this song the Maire has been verif uncu.y/j trying to attrncl 
 r iiUt'tition. At its close he brings her to the front.) 
 
 M.MRK. — .My <loar Madamo 15arj-io, a funny stoiy 
 ;tl ujton my word. Jfit wore true now it would he 
 ost ridioulou.N, 
 
 Uad. B. — Suoli a .silly old man wus'nt ho ? to lhiid< 
 U any pretty wonian would marry him. lie wouM 
 the laughing stookofall Tai'is if the story got out 
 ore with his name to it, partioularly when it was 
 (led tiiat he has legulai'ly hecn forwarding letters to 
 yalists in Pari.s from the (Vmite do Provence. 
 
 -Maire. — What ! Those letters of yours were 
 
 Mad. B. — Pj-ecisely. 
 
 .\rAiRE. — And you are I'oally \}\\s T'omtesse ! 
 
II' 
 
 30 
 
 (luri-ab 
 
 '(jii 
 
 Mail Tl— r ivallv nm. Comol Shnll T tell tlios,> irrll'*'"'' 
 folks nil about it ? •'"'•' '*' 
 
 Maiiie.~W!iv I shall l.c i-uiiuMl ! m^' • ^^ 
 
 :^rAi.. H.— Most coi-tainiv. |MAniK.-| 
 
 Maiue. — They Avould make nothing of. (il/rz/.r^; .sM'j 
 
 of r/uillotine.) ' 11''^'''^ '"I 
 
 "Maj). B.— Oh ! nothing, f see we shall iinderslJ J-^',^^''-'" 
 
 one anotliei" pert'eetly. |\i'^ 
 
 ^Iaike. — Alhnv nie toadmire youi* cleverness. .>rji(l:uii "^\'V'" 
 
 the game is yours, hut, (aj/peahnr/hj.) You Avont 
 
 hei'<' ? 
 
 Mai>. U. — (Arc/lb/.) Wliat ! tired of the ehaiMuii 
 
 \vi(h)\v BaiM'ie alrcadv ! 
 
 (Crossps to /htm/, lilackmith comrs foriranf) 
 
 JiiiACKSMiTii. — I say, wliat about this ai'i'est 'r* 
 .Maike. — It wout eonie otf. It's all a niistalve. 
 
 JJlaokmith. — l^ut, Monsieur le Maire 
 
 ]\Ia!I{E. — (^an you kee]) a secret ! 
 Hi,.\('KS.MiTir. — Like an anvil, 
 
 Maihe. — {Tahinij him hi/ the (inn.) You'i-e a lln 
 (^BlackiMnith. stnrtn.) And I'm another. Shake han<i 
 
 ( Thnj .shahe hands, and Bhirlamifh (jors har/,- hohiny ]mz:li 
 Enicr Marie, running, viil( fefftr.) 
 
 Maiuk. — Monsieur Duval ! nionsieiii' huval ! licit 
 your letter. 
 
 T)uVAi,. — (T<>I;rs if liaafihj and fears if open. read. 
 
 " Ilonoied Sir. All right! The ('ount u'on in 
 canter. 1 told vou Bony could'nt stav. Conic ovei' 
 
 11 not vc 
 )i-ni[i Ion 
 ' course 
 ways a I 
 av'nt coi 
 one k 
 ie|) the s 
 Tiro (jirU 
 litre a ten 
 
 Mada 
 Ducal. 
 
 lOKUS. 
 
 lit 
 
 (iarli 
 Hail 
 Ti»e 
 Hail 
 
 <juick as possible. Vm on Tom Tiddlers' ground, lici 
 picking up gold and silver as fast as I can. ^^^ ' 
 
 Yours, 
 
 BENDKJO BbH)\V.\." 
 
 Thai 
 Tak 
 
 (tslde.'\ . 
 The 
 
imdoi'siai 
 
 81 
 
 1 (j^,^^, ,, ■Hurrah ! JJi-avo ! the Omnt h:is won the Derh^' ! 
 (/tv round shakiii) hands.) Two tliousaiid i>(>uii(ls 
 lour ! Ilurnih ! 
 Maire. — What's tliat ? Tlicii you're not a Con.spii-a- 
 
 l)iVAL. — Conspii-ator ! I ! AVhy, oi' course not. 
 
 \1aikk. — And " J^onv " and the "Count" are ? 
 
 l)iVAL. — Horses ! What else should tliev he ? 
 <; ^fadaiJ-^'-^*'^'^- — (J'oni'uKi front, aside.) It strikes me tlwit I 
 wont 'v,tl" '"'^ ^^^'.^ niucii uidike one mysell' {Makes signs, of 
 irin<j long ears.) AVhat a mess I Iiave made of it ! 
 eharniiJ' ^'^xi''-'^^ he's a liorse joel<ey. These Kni;lishnien 
 ways are, when thev are not ni'i/e tiiihters. ^Vell, I 
 av'nt committed myself, forlunateiy. [7c> audience.'] 
 one knows what an ass J am, except you. You'll 
 it'|» the secret, wont you ? \_hums.] •' Say Yes, yes, 3'e>." 
 Tuo (jirls advance from ehorus with wreatlis of roses, theg 
 kiee a wreath on his head.] 
 
 I) 
 
 d? 
 
 akc 
 
 re a fod 
 ike hand 
 
 'iing pnzzh 
 ill ! Iieri 
 
 >en. reail. 
 
 woji ill 
 nie o\'ei' 
 
 FINAL CJIOEUS. 
 
 Madame B. 
 Duval. 
 
 IIORUS. 
 
 Maire. 
 
 Marie. 
 Pierre. 
 
 Blacksmith. 
 
 'Und 
 
 )VV\. 
 
 Hail ! hail ! hail ! liail 1 
 Hail to his honour tlie .^^aire of vSt Brieux. 
 
 (larlands we hrini;- and roses we strew. 
 Jlail to his Honour tlie Maire of St. Bi'ieux, 
 Tiie Araire of St. Brieux, tlie Maire of St. lirieux, 
 Jlail to his Honour the Maire of St. Bj-ieux. 
 
 ilAIRE. 
 
 Thaidvs, mv i^rood friends, for tlie honour vou do, 
 Take, ])ray, the thanks of the Maire of St. Brieux. 
 aside.] If his proceeding's these folks oidy knew, 
 Thev wt>uld'nt honour tlie Maire of St. Jh-ieux. 
 
 I 
 

 Duval. 
 
 J)oar M()nsi(Mir K> ^faiiv. thoiioli yoii pick oiil a 
 And sec tlii'<»ii<»-li a plot witli that wondcilul eve 
 Come iny deiir sir, now, lictweeii Jiie and yoii, 
 Arc you so clever, friend Maire oi' 8t. Hrieiix ? 
 
 Blaoksmitii. 
 
 If 11 
 
 Shel 
 
 Moil 
 
 She 
 
 So J 
 
 Thi 
 
 What it all means is more tlian I know, 
 Blacksmiths of course are thick headed and slow,] 
 All that I've learnt, why I lono- a,n() knew, 
 / ani the ass ; you're the Maire of St. lirieux. 
 
 IIOHIS. 
 
 PiKUHK. 
 
 Please Monsieui' le Maire I've a seci'et to te 
 
 Makik. — \_P)drmci fthn hacL] 
 
 Will you he quiet ? I'm not very well ! 
 
 i'lKKl?K. 
 
 Say tljat you'll marry me, then, if I «lont ! 
 
 Mai{ik. 
 
 What sir ! you force me ! Ah, well then, I. wont 
 
 PiKUHK. — [t/oea towards Maire, i<he pnlls him bach.] 
 
 Ves I will ! there's my hand. If I do inarrv \'on. 
 Dont you tell tales to the .Maire of St. Brieux. 
 
 W n> ( » w B. — [ Arch ly. ] 
 
 " Pair widow I " — yon know the rest ; 
 l^ray never mind, 3-011 did your hest ; 
 Xext time vou ask sav somelhinii- new, 
 rjallant <i:av bachelor Maire of St. Ihieux. 
 
 Maike. — [to audience] 
 
 What an escape I have liad to i»e sine ! 
 Once J get clcai', I'll not try any nnn-e, 
 
 Hal 
 
 Garla 
 Hail 
 The > 
 Hail 
 
 Entered 
 tlio Dtpart 
 
'•Ill ;i v| 
 'ill OVf. 
 
 you, 
 ^I'iciix '! 
 
 II \. 
 
 f ((» tcl 
 
 I ! 
 
 onl ! 
 
 woni 
 
 •J 
 
 33 
 
 If I had married a woman like that, 
 
 She would have led me the life of a cat, 
 
 Moi-al : — a widow is hest left alone, 
 
 She'll have her own wav, and von will have iiohe 
 
 So should a widow seem eharmiiiLi: to you. 
 
 Think of the fate of the Maire of St. l^rieux. 
 
 n<]slo\vi'"«»KUs. 
 
 Hail ! hail ! hail ! hail ! 
 ITail to his Honour the .Maire of St. HriiMix. 
 
 Garlands we hiMni:; and I'oses we strew. 
 Hail to his Honour the Maire of St, Brieiix. 
 The Maire of St. Hi'ieux, the Maire of Sf. lirieux. 
 JIail to his Honour the Maire of St. Hrieiix. 
 
 C U I{ T A I N 
 
 '".y yon. 
 
 'IIX. 
 
 Kntekeu according to i\w Act of the Parliaiiiciit of C'nin<la. in 
 flic Department of Agriculture, by Frederick W. Mills. 
 
Autht 
 
A STORM U A TEA CUP. 
 
 H SdDmsIDIIIEIPlPil, 
 
 IN ONE ACT. 
 
 BV 
 
 BAYLE 3ERNARD. 
 
 Author of " His Last Legs," '' 7'/te Farmer's Story," ''The 
 
 Man about Town,*' "Lucille," " The Mummi/," 
 
 efc., ffc, life. 
 
 LoNnoN 
 bAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 rUBLISUEB, 
 
 89. STRAND. 
 
 New Yors • 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SO!^, 
 
 • FUBLISHERS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET. 
 
' 
 
 i 
 
 w 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 Firtt Performed at the Royal Princess's Theatre, on Monday, 
 
 March 20, 1854. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 Mr. Felix Summerly .... cj Mr. W, LACY. 
 
 Mrs. Felix Summerly Mrs. W. LACY. 
 
 ••Their Respected Parent" Mr. CHESTER. 
 
 "Their Jewel OF a Servant" .... Miss VIVASH. 
 "The Hansom Cabman " Mr. BRUSH. 
 
 ScRNE— A VILLA NExVR LONDON. 
 7~iwp— 1854. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 Mr. Summerly.— Claret Newmarket coat, light waistcoat, sage* 
 coloured trousers. 
 
 Mrs. Summerly. — Grey silk morning dress. 
 
 Jane. — Cotton gown, cap, &c. 
 
 Cabman. — Usual dress. 
 
 Parent.— Blue coat, white waistcoat, nankeea trousers, wliite neck- 
 cloth broad brim bat. 
 
 Time— 30 minutes. 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP 
 
 Scene I. — Parlour of a Villa near London opening on a 
 garden at back. Chhmiey jnece, R. H. A door leading to 
 an inner room, R. ii. A Table laidfor breakfast, c. — R.H., 
 on chairs, an open carpet bag, and round the room corded 
 boxes, carpet bags, brown paper parcels, ^c, in confusion. 
 L. H., on chair, an open portmanteau. " Their jewel of a 
 Servanf* discovered laying breakfast. 
 
 Summerly and Mrs. Summerly are heard outside, R. H. 
 
 SuMJiERLY. Jane, Jane, breakfast ready r 
 
 Jane. Directly, Sir ! 
 
 Sum. Letitia, Letitia ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, Felix. 
 
 Sum. Five minutes to ten! half an hour, remember, to get 
 fo the docks, and at eleven we start ! 
 
 Ue enters, R. d., loaded tvith cloaks, paletots, ^c, umbrellas, 
 fishing rod, hat case, which he puts on sofa. 
 
 Sum. Jane, has the tailor sent ? 
 
 Jane. No, Sir, not yet. 
 
 Sum. Man brought a telescope? 
 
 Jane. No, Sir, he hasn't. 
 
 Sum. (l.) Nor a box from the printsellers ? 
 
 Jane. No, Sir, there's nothing. 
 
 Sum. Well, that will do. No time to be thunderstruck! 
 Breakfast, breakfast! {Uie goes off by B.. Ii. door, he puts 
 doicn things') Confound those fellows ! I said ten at latest 
 — told 'em that the boat was off at the half hour— but they 
 
 
 
 hs: 
 
 111: 
 
 )M 
 

 ill 
 
 4 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 leave everything to the last, out of spite, I really think, at 
 seeing other folks happy. Preeious sharp run tliough — to 
 start for the Rhine at half a day's notice — hadn't a thought 
 of it till three o'clock yesterday, when Woolet came up to 
 roe, and said, in that charming frank manner of his, " S»im- 
 merly, what do you say to taking my leave ?" " Your leave, 
 Sir," said 1 — I always "Sir" a senior. "Yes," he replied, 
 ''I'm olF, you know, to morrow, and it's exquisite weather, just, 
 the thing for a trip." " You're joking, Sir," said I. " Not 
 at all ;" he replied, "I'm perfectly serious, and there's a 
 reason I should be ; I've got some law business to keep rac 
 in town which may cost me some hundreds if I'm out of the 
 way ; so what do you say, will you take my leave and let me 
 Lave yours, and I don't mind allowing you my extra fort- 
 night?" Now, there's a noble fellow ! I said done, of course 
 — was off at once — ran over to my banker's for a letter of 
 credit — then home to Letitia, and told her to pack ; and 
 packing we were till nearly daylight this morning. But what 
 a capital fellow to throw in his fortnight. I'm off for two 
 mouths. Well may London boast of the Adamant Fire 
 and Life Assurance Company, when that company is en- 
 nobled bv such a chief clerk. Far removed be the dav when 
 we shall have to pay his insurance. Sad, sad, will be the 
 hour when his amiable widow claims her 5.000 pounds ! 
 
 Mrs. Summerly, {comes from door, n. ii., loaded with a 
 dress, boots, and dressing case) Why, Felix, have you finished ? 
 
 Sum. Yos, except breakfast; packed all but myself. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, it's quite useless ; I shall never be ready. 
 I've a load of things yet, and not a cranny to put them in. 
 {crosses 'oeldnd to \iortmanteau L. ii.) 
 
 Si.M. Oh, nonsense, love, nonsense! all you want is a 
 little extra decision. 
 
 Mrs. S. Not at all: what I want is a little extra port- 
 manteau. 
 
 Sum. Well, {sits at r. of table) you work away and I'll 
 pour out the tea. Jane, Jane, are you coming ? 
 
 Mrs. Summerly {busijiny herself^ l. it., at her open trunJc. 
 Janb runs in loith tray, containing teapot, eggs, ^c. 
 
 Sum. 'Pon my soul, you're a quick one ! talk of the tele- 
 graph when you're to be had — post come in yet ? 
 
 Jane. No, Sir, it isn't, {back of table) 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 5 
 
 Sum. Well, where's tlia ham? That's not come in cither! 
 You don*t call this your general delivery, (holding up plalr. 
 Jane run8 offbi/'R. li. door. He cracks egg, pours out tea) 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) No, no, it's no use, it's no use; I sliall 
 ruin that dress — eh ? There's his bag, not a quarter full yet, 
 with its mouth gaping open as if it asked to be fed. (//ots to 
 B. 11.) His handkerchief at top — the very thing for my 
 boots — now they're sure not to be crushed ; and here's room 
 for my desk between his trousers and waistcoat ! 
 
 Sum. Letty, are you ready ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, in a moment. 
 
 Sum. Ah, I knew all you wanted was a little decision ! 
 
 !Mrs. S. (giving desk a push) Very true, a little decision. 
 
 Sum. Everytliing gives way when it comes to a push. 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside) I hope not in this case! 
 
 Jane enters with telescope and box of cigars. 
 
 Servant. Telescope, Sir, and a box of cigars. 
 buM. Cigars ! bless my soul, quite forgot them, and what 
 fchouJd I have done without them ! (takes knife and opens ho.r) 
 
 Exit Jane e. door. 
 
 Mrs. S. And now for my break Jiist. (sits l. of table) 
 Sum. (jumps up) Yes, the old sort, and what an odour 
 they've got ! a positive bouquet — no cabbage leaf liere — no 
 tincture of logwood. All honor to Ealeigh, benefactor of man, 
 who puts so much good into every one's moutli ; but where are 
 they to go ? carpet bag's full : tliere's her portmanteau open, 
 just room I see for these and the telescope, (crosses, to if puts 
 tiem in) Yes and my railway library, my shilling's worth of 
 history, horror and fun, Eugene Sue and the Wandering Jew — 
 who knows, perhaps I may meet him ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {turning) Why, Felix, what are you doing ? 
 Sum. Packing away my cigars. 
 Mrs. S. On the top of my dresses } (jumping up) 
 Sum. Why, my love, they won't hurt. 
 Mrs. S. That box will destroy them. 
 Sum. Then we'll dispense with the box — there fragrant 
 shower, (empties box into trunk then throws it away) 
 
 Mks. S. Well, but cigars are not eau de Cologne, and they 
 may make people think that I smoke them myself; they're a 
 horrible habit, your only bad taste ; your cigars, as you know, 
 Are always provoking me. 
 
 >1 
 
1 
 
 
 g A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 Sum. And yet the poor things are the mildest HavannaVs. 
 But I say, sec my telescope — bought it last night, and gotthc 
 maker to oil it tliat it uiip;ht come out at a sling, (throm 
 it opeuy Mus. S. dightly starts) There's a fine fellow, carries 
 as far as an 84 pounder. 
 
 Mns. S. And looks something like one. 
 
 Sum. No matter the distance, makes everything plain. 
 
 Mrs S. Then I beg that you'll use it when you look at the 
 >vomen. 
 
 Jane returns from R. with parcels 
 
 Jane. From the tailor, if you please, Sir, and a shop in 
 Cheapside. {^oes off again) 
 
 Mrs. S. More parcels, Felix, why where are they to p;o? 
 
 Sum. To Germany, I hope. (Mrs. S.goes up to table and 
 gets a cup of coffee, then comes forward again) 
 These are our best treasures, I didn't forget them though my 
 time was so short ; look here, Letty, here — here's a hand- 
 book, my darling, {opens parcel) 
 
 Mrs. S. (l.) a handbook ! 
 
 Sum. a handbook to tell us all we're to see — roads, cities, 
 and pictures ; inform us of everything from the price of a 
 cutlet to the style of a Raphael, {putting it on table) 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, that is a treasure ! 
 
 Sum. And a pocket vocabulary in German and English, 
 with questions on every conceivable subject. I've learnt 
 already how to say "How d'ye do," and bring us some 
 dinner, " bringen dass mittags mahl," bring in the beef. 
 
 Mrs. S. I see. 
 
 Sum. Not at all hard, it's so very like English, {reads) '* wie 
 biefinden sic sich," that's how dy'e do, or how do we find 
 you ? we befinding, quite English — don't know what sich is, 
 suppose it means such. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, Felix, well. 
 
 Sum. Then here's an auxiliary — a map of the Rhine that 
 would make a stair carpet ! There's a spread of knowledge, 
 {throtcs it out) with the river winding down it like a worm in 
 a bottle, {gives map to her) 
 
 Mrs. S. Why, with all these companions, we might as 
 well stay at home, {folding map) 
 
 Sum. And here's something more. 
 
 Mrs. S. Good gracious me! 
 
 Sum. My coat for the steamer ; it may come on to blow hard. 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 7 
 
 you know — you go below, I stop on deck, to have a chat with 
 the Captain and a friendly cigar — we pace the plank together 
 puffing away like a couple of funnels, (puts on hat and caat^ 
 ^c, crosses l. afid r.J There's a suit of armour tomake araaa 
 weather proof! — Who's to be frightened in such rigging as 
 this ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Why whoever looks at you — but now let's finish 
 breakfast ! 
 
 Sum. Yes! Yes! to breakfast, {throws off coat , sils at 
 table) The fly'll be here at the half hour? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, to a minute. 
 
 Sum. And your father's going with us? 
 
 Mrs. S. He is, to the Docks. , 
 
 Sum. And some friends are coming in. 
 
 IMrs. S. The Browns and the Simpsons, just to shake 
 hands. 
 
 Sum. Kind of 'em really — excellent people. They seem 
 to be as pleased as if they were going themselves ; and if they 
 arc delighted, what should I be ? Oh, Letty ! Lctty — I don't 
 think I could be happier if Woolet had popp'd off and I was 
 at the head of the office. 
 
 Mrs. S. And would that event please you? 
 
 Sum. Officially, of course, love ! {half turns chair) One's 
 income and spirits are like gas and a balloon — as one 
 enlarges t'other rises {turns wholly to front — spreads himself 
 out, ij-c.) Bui a trip up the Rhine, the enjoyment of all 
 others I've panted so long for — have talked and have dreamt 
 of — with its fine German wines and its old German songs. 
 learnt one last year (roars out) 
 
 " Be blessings on thp Rhine, 
 The Rhine, whereon the grapes arc growing !" 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, Felix I 
 
 Sum. The Rhine ! 
 ear? 
 
 Mrs. S. No ; but you'll give me one. 
 
 Sum. And then to go with you, love — every year 
 we've been somewhere during the two we've been niar- 
 mavricd — first into Wales then to Boulogne ; but this was a 
 treat above all to partake with you — to share the inspiration 
 of its scenery, its climate ; to drink in by your side, love ! — - 
 (I'll take some mure tea !) — to drink in by your side its poetical 
 
 What's the matter — ^have I got a bad 
 
 I 
 
8 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 beauty. {sJie puts a roll into his hand) You, whose affection 
 has made my life such an Eden; whose sweetness, whose 
 kindness — (sugar, my darling !) — have turned a wild scape- 
 grace into a being all quietude, mildness, and— - 
 
 Mrs. S. Milk P 
 
 Sum. Thank you, love — thank you ! Yes, Letty, yes, it's 
 a proud recollection that our happiness has been a stream 
 that has flowed on unruffled ; all the world to each other, 
 we'd nothing to wish for, confiding as we have done with 
 the most perfect reliance. 
 
 Enter Jane, d. R. with a letter. 
 
 Janj:. a letter, if you please, Sir ; but I've had such an 
 accident {behind table) 
 
 Sum. An accident! {turning to her) 
 
 Jane. Yes, Sir, in ray hurry just now, I upset the ink, 
 and running to the ham, Sir, the letter fell into it I 
 
 Sum. What, into the frying pan ? 
 
 Jane. No, Sir, the ink. (holdini/ it by corner) 
 
 Sum. And now is served up with appropriate gravy — a 
 nice ailair, certainly — international postage, an epistle from 
 France, with our own kitchen stamp. Exit Jane, R. d. 
 
 Mils. S. From France, Felix! 
 
 Sum, Yes, but plague take the girl, the ink has run over 
 both the post mark and name — left nothing but " — urn- 
 merly, sincerely." 
 
 Mks. S. And don't you know the hand ? 
 
 Sum. Can't say I do. 
 
 Mrs. S. And you're expecting no letter? 
 
 Sum. None from abroad — ^your lather expects one — he 
 wrote to my friend Hooker, who lives at Bourdeaux, to send 
 him some claret, and has had iic leply. 
 
 Mils. E. Well, th«n, let me look, {takes it) This writing's 
 a female's. 
 
 Sum. Certainly like it. {tiirns^ helps himself to ham, eats) 
 
 Mrs. S. But the post mark indeed is — {blotting it on table 
 L. H.) and yet, that's a B and an O and a U — Boulogne. 
 Why, Felix, this letter's for me ! 
 
 Sum. For you, love! 
 
 Mrs. C. For me, it comes from Jane Morrison ! — she's 
 at Boulogne, we met her last year there ! 
 
 Sum. Jane Morrison ! 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, my old friend and schoolfellow, who's there 
 v\illi her brotiier. 
 
 Si .m. Oh ! ah! Witii her brother! (sfopa cnthig) 
 
 Mrs. S. (going io open it) No, I'll read it after ijrcalvfast, 
 or when I've done packing, for I've a world still to do, and — 
 {puts it in he?' pocket) 
 
 Sum. You won't read it now, then ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Why, I can ^ness what it's about ; she lias all 
 sorts of nonsense to tell nie of new comers, perhaps of our 
 acquaintance —there now. (clearing corner of table for con- 
 tents of pocket) I've fniished breakfast, and, as time is on 
 thv- wing, let me linish the portmanteau, [fihe leaves tahle for 
 her trunk l. — he remains at table with lii>i knife) 
 
 Sum. (aside) There— with her brother I 
 
 ]\Ius. S. Why, Felix, you monster, you've not only put in 
 your horrid cigars, but see the gloves you have put in too, 
 and this lot of books, when I wasn't looking. Oh, I'm a 
 luck of a wife to indulge you this way. 
 
 Sum. There — with her brotiier! 
 
 Mrs. S. (/«m/(^) Why, are you going to sit there all day y 
 
 Sum. Why, I haven't done breakfast, I'm so hungry this 
 morning — seem to smell the sea air, and this ham is so good 
 that — (eiting quickly and lookiny doicn) I say, my love, you 
 haven't put by that letter because I'm in the way ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {turning) What, Felix ! 
 
 Sum. I say — because I'm here. 
 
 Mrs. S. Because you arc here? 
 
 Sum, Yes I 
 
 Mrs. S. And do you think I have any secrets? 
 
 Sum. Why I can't say you have had. 
 
 ]\Irs. S. And am I going to commence now? 
 
 Sum. Well, I really don't know, but — (he eats anddrinks^ 
 making a great clatter) 
 
 Mrs. S. Why, Felix, what's entered your head ? (advancing 
 to table) 
 
 Sum. Some ham, but this moment, and famous it is. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, this is really too good. 
 
 Sum. (clattering) What, the meat or the question ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, I've no time to laugh, but what can make 
 you so stupid 1 (she returns to trunk) 
 
 Sum. (aside) Time enough to compliment. 
 
 k 
 
 
10 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 Jane appears at door, 
 
 Jane. (r. h.) Mrs. Andrews, if you please, Ma'am, bag 
 brouLj;ht you wliat she promised. 
 
 Mrs. *S. (l. II.) What, the mantle? 
 
 Jake. Yes. Ma'am, and hopes slie is in time. 
 
 Mrs. S. Why the excellent creature made it up for her- 
 self to 2;o abroad in this summer, but illness preventing, she 
 brings it to me. Now, Felix, you shall see it, and say if it's 
 not a most charming invention. 
 
 Sum. (aside) I hope it's the only one. 
 
 Serv. And she says, if you please, IMa'ani, that you prj- 
 mised her the key of the enclosure whilst you were away .'' 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, certainly, ccrtahdy — I've got it in my pocket, 
 but it's so frightfully crammed, wliat with letters and packets 
 and all sorts of things — no — I must turn them all out. 
 {enqdies her pocket on the table) Yes, there it is, I'll take it 
 myself — but you needn't stop, Felix, you can pack away and 
 I'll le back in an instant, {she goes off behind the table with 
 
 Jane) 
 
 Su-M. {turns letter over with his fork) Comes from Jane 
 Morrison. "Well, I suppose that's the fact ; and yet 
 it's very odd that that brother of hers writes just such a 
 scrawl— that Captain, combund him, who's also Letty's old 
 friend, and used to call every morning, and give her his arm, 
 whilst I was compelled to pair off with his sister ; they must 
 have walked ten miles a day up and down that long pier. 
 Now I fancy I can see his very face in this letter, 
 {spikes it with his fork, and holds it up) his wretched 
 white look {turns ichite side to the audience) and his black, 
 dirty raoustachios. {turns inked side) It can't be from 
 him, of course not ; that's nonsense — and yet really his 
 impudence was a something so great, — that I should just 
 like to, — open it — yes, open it — if my honour's concerned ; 
 but then it's concerned two ways. Not exactly the thing to 
 break open a letter — What, not a wife's ? Isn't all that's 
 hers mine ? haven't I law on my side ? Yes, but not honour. 
 Honour would say it's a dirty, contemptible, pitiful thing to 
 break open a letter — an act that no gentleman could ever 
 commit. True, replies Prudence ; but ends you know some- 
 times justify means, and if peace is at stake — Pooh, pooh, 
 exclaims Honour, no ends whatever can justify wrong. Come 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 II 
 
 conic, vejoins Prudence, there's self-preservation ; if n pistol 
 were aimed at you, you'd knock it aside. Tliis letter's a 
 pistol and aimed at the heart, and do you menu to say we've 
 no right to discharge its contents? Prudence has it all 
 hollow {rises), hasn't left Honour a spindle to stand on, and 
 so having conclusively settled the matter. I — (he is ahot't to 
 break the seal when Mrs. Summeiily returns in the jacket .• 
 he puts the letter hehind him) 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, Felix, it's on, and how does it look? {t/irns 
 round) 
 
 Sum. (l.) Look — why — why — 
 
 Mrs. S. Why what's the matter — nnyiliing awkward."* 
 
 Sum. {aside) About one of us, certainly. 
 
 Mrs. S. I see you're not pleased, though you dont't like 
 to say so. 
 
 Sum. Pleased! I'm delighted — think it's hiirhly be 
 coming. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, it's wonderfully comfortable ; and now to 
 lock up — you've finished what you were about? 
 
 Sum. Why. no, not entirely. 
 
 Mrs. S. What wasting your time still ? now evervthiiig's 
 packed, I see — you've been wanting to o^jcn something. 
 
 Sum. Letiy ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Ah, you have now — you have — it's always in 
 this way that work gets behind, {his hack is turned to 
 audience ; he shakes the letter) 
 
 Sum. Behind! 
 
 Mrs. S. But there's no standing still, (goes itp to c. tadk) 
 These matters of mine must go back to my pocket — letter?^ 
 keys, scissors — 
 
 Sum. {aside) I must get rid of this somewhere ; pitch it 
 into her trunk, {(jetting up to it, L.) 
 
 IMus. S. Eh! whv. wherc's Jane's letter? Felix, have 
 you seen it } 
 
 Sum, {making ap'dch at her trunk, turns) Seen what? 
 
 !Mrs. S. Jane Morrison's letter — do you know where I 
 put it ? 
 
 Sum. Why, how very absurd to ask that question of me. 
 
 ^Mrs. S. Why, I must have laid it somewhere; I thought 
 on the table. 
 
 Sum. Then, on the table you'll find it — ou the table, of 
 course — 
 
12 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP 
 
 I -.1 
 
 Mrs. S. But, you see, it's not on the table, though Tni 
 sure it's in the room ; perhaps it's under the table — help me 
 to move it — now, do help me to move it, Felix, {he crosses 
 in front to l. of table) Why don't you take both hands ? 
 
 Sum. (r. of table) Where's the need if one's enough — if 
 one hand will do ? (keeping letter beJdnd him with one hand, 
 Jane enters with paper parcel and sees it) 
 
 Mus. S. No, not a sign of it. Oh, Jane, have you found 
 it — that letter that came this morning, that you dropped in 
 the ink ? 
 
 Sum. Yes, Jane, have you found it ? 
 
 Jane. Why, isn't that it in your hand, Sir? {down, r.) 
 
 Sum. My hand ! 
 
 Jane. Yes, Sir, which you're holding behind you. 
 
 Mrs. S. Behind you ! 
 
 Sum. Bless my soul, so it is ! Exit Jane 
 
 ]\Irs. S. And so, Mr. Felix, you were hiding it, were you? 
 
 Sum. Why, certainly, Letty; I — {gives letter) 
 
 Mrs. S. And merely to teaze me, when our time is so 
 short ; you're a nice person, really, but I shall be even with 
 you ! {advances L., puts letter hi h^r pocket) 
 
 Sum. Then ycfu'rc not going to read it ! {advances, u.) 
 
 Mus. S. To read it! whv, Felix, you're wonderfullv 
 anxious — I begin to think you're in love with Jane Morrison. 
 
 Sum. In love with her ? i 
 
 Mas. S. Yes, for you were very attentive, you know, at 
 Boulogne — you were her constant companion. 
 
 Sum. Because you were every day snapped up by the 
 Captain. 
 
 Mrs. S. The Captain! 
 
 Sum. Who had also the honour to be your early acquaint- 
 ance. , ,. 
 
 Mrs. S. Certainly. 
 
 Sum. And who now, perhaps, writes about old recol- 
 lections. 
 
 ]\Ius. S. And do you think this letter's from him .•* 
 
 Sum. Well, if I must be explicit — 
 
 Mrs. S. Then— now all's explained— you're again so ab- 
 surd as to be jealous cjI" that person. 
 
 Sum. .Jealous ! — I deny it. I despise a jealous man ; and 
 should doubly despise myself to be jealous of him, an ell'erai- 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 13 
 
 nate puppy, who was my utter contempt — a disgrace to the 
 army, where, at least, we want men. 
 
 Mrs. S. And wliich, Sir, in his case, possesses a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Sum. a gentleman, indeed, who puts scent in his hand- 
 kerchief ! • : r 
 
 Mrs. S. Who is my old acquaintance. 
 
 Sum. And was to have married you. I can't say it's a 
 compliment that I was preferred to him. 
 
 Mrs. S. And you're making me doubt whether it's proved 
 nn advantage. 
 
 Sum. Oh, I dare say ! — pity you lost him — but whatever 
 your feelings, I hope you'll respect mine. Jealous of him, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And yet if I retract, I don't see that you gain 
 by it ; for that takes away the sole excuse for your rudeness, 
 your conduct to the Captain, which everyone wondered at. 
 Oh, if I had so acted towards one of your friends, what a 
 storm would have followed ! 
 
 Sum. Well, and so you did act. Only a twelvemonth 
 ago, your conduct was infinitely worse to Miss Hooker. 
 
 Mrs. S. Miss Hooker ! 
 
 Sum. Miss Hooker — and merely because, as her father's old 
 friend, I went down to Streatham to dine there on Sunday. 
 
 Mrs. S. (energetically) Miss Hooker is a vulgar, illiterate 
 being, who hasn't one claim to the name of a lady. 
 
 Sum. She's a generous, excellent, well-disposed girl, who 
 has it in her power to make any man happy. 
 
 Mrs. S. Then I regret very much she didn't try to make 
 you. 
 
 Sum. And perhaps so do I, Madam — perhaps so do I. 
 
 Mrs. S. And, if she had, I would have given full praise 
 to her talents. 
 
 Sum. Which you praise enough now, for you're dying of 
 jealousy. 
 
 Mrs. S. I jealous of her ! 
 
 Sum. Yes, of her. Madam, of her. 
 
 Mrs. S. Defence, in such case, T should think degradation ; 
 and now, Mr. Summerly, you believe that this letter has 
 been sent by a person in whom I encourage a secret attach- 
 ment? 
 
 Sum. I regret to confess it. {with a long sigh) 
 
14 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 ;. i: 
 
 ,,, l. 
 
 Mrs. S. Which letter, m consequence, you expect me 
 to open? ^ , 
 
 Sum. I expect you to open. 
 
 Mrs. S. Then, Mr. Summerly, you had better be seated, 
 Sir, for I must tell you you're very likely— to wait ! 
 
 Sum. You will not ? 
 
 Mrs. S. I will not. If you can insult rac so much as to 
 indulge this suspicion, on you shall devolve the further shame 
 of disproving it. 
 
 Sum. Oh, very good ! — ^just as you please, Madam — 
 grand manner certainly of hiding your fears — of saying, in 
 fact, you're afraid to convince me ; but I'm happy to tell 
 you there's not the least need, for I can guess its contents ; 
 and, if you like, you shall hear them. 
 
 Mrs. S. (ffoes up l., brings doicn chair, and throws herself 
 in it) Oh, with all my heart ! 
 
 Sum. He begins, then, in this way — "My adored 
 Letitia !" 
 
 Mrs. S. {turnmj to him) Mr. Summerly ! 
 
 Sum. Shall I go on } 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, if you like ! {turning aicay again) 
 
 Sum. " My angel of angels — I learn that your husband 
 Las obtained his yearly leave, and proposes a tour." 
 
 Mrs. S. Now, how should he learn that } (turning round 
 to him) 
 
 Sum. Well, he imagines it — just the same thing, {she 
 turns away again) " Where is your destination ? — let me 
 know by return of post, that I may instantly follow you ; or 
 is it not possible to persuade the good creature to come to 
 Boulogne, — as you did come last year — where my sister, of 
 course, would engage his attention, whilst — 
 
 Mrs. S. {turning round to him again) And vou've the 
 audacity to say he could write such a letter } 
 
 Sum. I strongly suspect it. 
 
 J\Irs. S. And that 1 could receive it? « 
 
 Sum. I regret to say ditto. 
 
 Mrs. S. {rises) Then, Mr. Sununcrly, you must feel that 
 I no longer deserve the name of your wife, aud that our 
 duty is to part, Sir. 
 
 Sum. Well, Madam, to part. 
 
 Mrs. S. And that, on the instant, without a moment's 
 delay ! 
 
 S; I 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 15 
 
 Sum. Without a moments delay - 
 
 Mrs. S. So, it's fortunate this discussion has taken place 
 now, since it will save you the intended expense of my 
 journey ! 
 
 Sum. Fortunate, indeed — it saves money and character! 
 Jane looks hi from door 
 
 Jane. The cab's come, Sir. 
 
 Mrs. S. Then send it away again ! (Jane lools sur» 
 prised loithoiit moving) I am not going. 
 
 Sum. You are not, but I am; tell it to stop. (Jane 
 disappears) Do you think I mean to lose a long-treasured 
 enjoyment because you are not with me ? No, Madam, no, 
 I bhall go to the Rhine, if I go there alone — you can stay 
 here ! The tradespeople, of course, will supply all you want, 
 and — 
 
 Mrs. S. And so you think I will stay here — moping all by 
 myself, whilst you're flying about as gay as you please ! 
 No, Mr. Summerly, if you go to the Rhine, Sir, I shall go 
 to Paris ! {goes to L.) 
 
 Sum. To Paris! 
 
 Mrs. S. To Paris! Aunt Martha offered to take me not 
 ten days ago, {returns to c.) and I shall send her a note 
 instantly to say I consent. 
 
 Sum. {pausing with vexation) And would you. Madam, 
 with no better guardian than an invalid old aunt, expose 
 yourself to all the temptations of Paris } 
 
 Mrs. S. Temptations, Mr. Summerly, are in the heart 
 not the eyes ! 
 
 Sum. Would you hazard your reputation, your priceless 
 repute, by conduct that the kindest could not fail to condemn ? 
 If you have no respect for yourself, have you none for my 
 feelings — for the name of my wife. Madam ? 
 
 Mrs. S. And so I am to value what you throw away. 
 However, don't fear. Sir — however provoked, don't fear I 
 shall be wanting in respect to myself, and now, as time fhes, 
 we'll separate our luggage, and then you can take your 
 course — I can take mine. You start to-day, I start to- 
 morrow, {she goes to her trunk l.ii.) 
 
 Sum. Of course. Madam, of course ; and the result, as you 
 say, will indeed be a saving. All I shall want now is my 
 bag and a hat box — just lock 'era up and call in the man — 
 and {he goes to his bag r.h.) a few things of yours, Madam 
 
 St ip* 
 
 H i 
 
16 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 H^i ii 
 
 — your boots, and your hair-brushes, and your trumpery 
 parcels (he throws them out on thejloor) 
 
 Mrs. S. And a few things of yours, Sir, your books and 
 your gloves, and your horrid cigars {throws them out, then 
 loose cigarSy then (/rasps a bmidle)^ or rather dead cabbage 
 leaves steeped in a tanpit (throws the bundle^ which he catches) 
 
 Sum. Ilavannahs ! Ilavnnnahs, Madam ! Two guineas a 
 pound! That's the last blow; after that, would a worm 
 even want spirit to wriggle ? No, that has nerved me, and 
 now, Madam, we separate {grasping his bag and hat-box^ she 
 clasps a band-box and parasol) 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, Sir, we separate. 
 
 Sum. Wide as two continents. 
 
 Mrs. S. Wide as two continents. 
 
 Sum. As Asia and Africa. 
 
 Mrs. S. With a desert between us (Jane loolcs in 
 agahi) 
 
 Jane. Mr. and Miss Johnson and all the Simpsons, if 
 you please. Sir. 
 
 Sum. Our neighbours — very well, you'll see them, of course, 
 as you're going to stay, and you can explain to them, say 
 what you like as to %ohy you're deserted, but as my time's 
 limited, I shall be off. 
 
 Mrs. S. Indeed you shall not. Sir — Jane, leave the room— 
 (Jane exits) leave me to explain, why should I have to en- 
 dure that disgrace more than you, or indeed half so much ? 
 A.S this step is your seeking, I desu'e, Mr. Summerly, that 
 you explain all yourself, and if you won't go to them, you 
 must at least see my father. 
 
 Sum. Your father? 
 
 Mrs. C. Of course, he will be here in a minute, and he, 
 I presume, will require an explanation. 
 
 Sum. (aside) Well, that's true enough. 
 
 Mrs. S. And one, let me add, that will prove satisfactory. 
 
 Sum. (aside) But that gains my point, that must make her 
 reveal. Well, Madam, well, if I must tell our friends, if you 
 force me to accquaint them with this shameful necessity, I 
 must have my credentials, I must furnish both to them and 
 your father the proof. 
 
 Mrs. S. The proof! 
 
 Sum. That letter you've got. Madam, that letter, if you 
 please. 
 
Win' i 
 
 A 
 
 STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 w 
 
 Mils. S. Oh, very well ! 
 
 Sum. Which, awkward as it is, you see — must be 
 surrendered. 
 
 Mrs. S. Indeed, Mr. Summerly, that letter is yours. 
 (draws it lorth and extends it) 
 
 Sum, That's not the right one. 
 
 Mrs. S. My aunt's, I beg pardon ! {returning it, disengages 
 another) 
 
 Sum. Be certain this time — ^just be sure it's the one (she 
 draws it out, looks at it) Well, Madam, well ! (extends his 
 hand for it icithoiit looking) 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside) Why, now I look again I've a very great 
 doubt, that I'm almost convinced this is not her handvviumg. 
 
 Sum. (aside) I knew I had fixed her— I was sure she 
 wouldn't give it. 
 
 Mrs. S. And yet there's a B, and an O RD — why, this 
 is not from Boulogne, this comes from Bourdeaux. 
 
 Sum. Bourdeaux? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes ; where I don*t know a soul ; it's not for 
 mCj after all ! 
 
 Sum. Not for you ! 
 
 Mrs. S. No, Sir, so take it, and welcome ! (shejlings it on 
 the stage and goes, l., he takes it np) 
 
 Sum. Well, really, how very odd ! 
 
 Mrs. S. {toith bitterness) And now, Sir — {returning to 
 c.) I wish you joy of your valuable proof, with which you 
 can enlighten your friends as soon as you like. 
 
 Sum. How exceedingly awkward ! 
 
 Mrs, S. This grand demonstration of your generous 
 charges— this ample excuse for its manly results ! 
 
 Sum. What a plaguy position ! {aside) 
 
 Mrs. S. And as your time's so very precious, so ex- 
 ceedingly brief, perhaps you'll adjourn to our good friend's 
 at once, though without your credentials — with only a letter 
 from a girl at Bourdeaux. At Bourdeaux! 'jvhy, isn't it 
 there where the Hookers live ? 
 
 Sum. The Hookers ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And their excellent, well-disposed daughter, IMiss 
 Betsy ? • 
 
 Sum. {aside, (jravehj) She does. 
 
 Mrs. S. Who offers such a proof of her taslc and pro* 
 
IIR 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 :i!i 
 
 priety as to address an old lover who's been married these 
 two years. 
 
 Sum. {aside) Confound it! I hope not. 
 
 Mus. S. This model of a woman — this modern Prise 
 Maiden ! 
 
 Sum. (aside) She's deuced romantic! what if it should 
 be so? 
 
 Mrs. S. And now, Mr. Summerly, perhaps t/ou'll read the 
 letter ? 
 
 Sum. (aside, gravely) Not for a hundred pounds ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Perhaps you'll be so good as to show tlic beauty 
 of confidence — confidence, the source of domestic felicity! 
 
 Sum. (he picks up her hoots from floor and begins bruskiug 
 iJiem) Well, of all the fairy coverings that ever graced woman's 
 foot — 
 
 Mrs. S. Never mind ray foot, Sir! {pulling Jiim up and 
 round to her) Look in my face ! 
 
 Sum. And such bijou as these to be covered with dust! 
 
 Mrs. S. Which you hope, on the contrary, to throw in 
 my eyes ! Do you mean. Sir, to read it ? 
 
 Sum. {polisJwig boots with coat sleeve) Now really, my 
 darling, this affair's so absurd ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Absurd, Sir ! A letter that's sent by Miss Hooker! 
 
 Sum. Who's a positive ninny — the greatest fool in the 
 world ! 
 
 ]\Irs. S. Then the greater brute you to encourage hci 
 feelings. 
 
 Sum. {getting angry) Encourage — I deny it ! 1 don't care 
 a pin for her. 
 
 Mrs. S. Say rather for truth. Sir! When you talk in this 
 manner, you know you'd have married her — were st(>pped 
 by a quarrel, and were so base to me as to keep it all secret. 
 
 Sum. {loudly) Silence, Madam, silence ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And now it's quite clear you're as loving as ever — 
 
 Sum. As loving ! 
 
 JMrs. S. And this tour up the Rhine was, after all, a mere 
 scheme to get over to France and drop down to Bourdeaux. 
 
 Sum. Well, there's no standing this ! rather than this I'd 
 break open a mail bag ! Jie throtcs down the boots, seizes the 
 letter and is about to break it open, when her 
 
 Respected Parent enters at back. 
 
 Par£nt. Well, Letty ! well, Felix ! 
 
A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 19 
 
 S. Oil, here's rav father ! 
 
 In time, then — good time? 
 
 S. To hear its contents. 
 
 To hear it— to read it ! My dear Sir, here's n 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 Sum. 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 Sum. 
 letter. 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, here's a letter ! 
 
 Sum. "Which I wish you to read. Sir. 
 
 Mrs. S. Which I wish you to read. Sir ! 
 
 Sum. Which your daughter insists is intended for me. 
 
 Mrs. S. And my husband has said is intended for me. 
 
 Sum. So do you be the judge. Sir. 
 
 Mrs. S. Ay, do you be the judge. 
 
 Sum. I demand the ordeal. 
 
 Mrs, S. And I abide the result. 
 
 Parent, {opens letter^ an enclosure falh out) Why, it isn't 
 for eitJier of you ! 
 
 Both. For neither ! 
 
 Parent. For neither ; this letter's for me ! 
 
 Both. For you. Sir } 
 
 Parent. For me; it's about the claret I ordered. 
 
 Sum. The claret! 
 
 Parent. From Hooker's, who's ill — lost my address — so his 
 wife has enclosed his reply to yourself, {he turns away io 
 read the letter ; they pause in confusion, then look at each 
 other) 
 
 Mrs. S. W^hy, Felix ! 
 
 Sum. Letitia ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And — and — is it then possible — 
 
 Sum. That all this tornado — 
 
 Mrs. S. Has actually arisen — 
 
 Sum. From nothing at all ! 
 
 Mtis. S. From nothing at all ! 
 
 Parent, {advancing) And so you've been quarrelling — 
 actually quarrelling at a moment like this, when you've most 
 cause to be happy ! when the boat starts at 1 1, and — {he looks 
 at his watch) it's past the half hour. 
 
 Sum. It is, Su*. 
 
 Parent. It is ; so throw on your things— we'll put in the 
 luggage. Here, Jane ! Cabman ! Jane ! {he seizes bags, 
 parcels^ ^c, and the Jane and Cabman entering do the 
 same, and go out with them to the back and return till the room 
 is cleared) 
 
20 
 
 A STORM IN A TEA CUP. 
 
 Sum. Then, Letty, my beauty, here's your mantle and 
 ugly, (tying shade on bomiet) 
 
 Mrs. S. And, Felix, my darling, here's your hat and your 
 wrapper. 
 
 Sum. But these dear little boots — I must find room for 
 them! 
 
 Mrs. S. And these darling cigars — they'll go in my 
 reticule ! 
 
 Parent, {returns from outside at back) Now, are you 
 ready ? for we are — come along. Exit. 
 
 Sum. Very good, quite ready, come along, Letty. Stop — 
 just a moment — only to say a word — a word to some friends we 
 leave here, (they return to the audience) We've scarcely a 
 moment, as of our course you perceive, but before our de- 
 parture, we just wish to say — 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, we just wish to say — 
 
 Sum. That as people often quarrel about nothing at all— 
 
 Mrs, S. About nothing at all — 
 
 Sum. At the time of all others, when they ought to be 
 happy — 
 
 JMrs. S. When they ought to be happy — 
 
 Sum. If they'd just take the trcubie to begin by enquiry— 
 
 Mrs. S. And add to enquiry a little belief — 
 
 Sum. They'd not only save themselves needless vexation — 
 
 Enter Respected Parent at back. 
 
 M'RS, S. But what is as valuable, public respect. 
 
 Parent, {at back) Are you coming ? 
 
 Sum. Come along, Letty. {they run off) • ' . 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
SCHOOL. 
 
 aantle and 
 
 it and your 
 
 id room for 
 
 go in my 
 
 V, are you 
 Exit. 
 y. Stop — 
 e friends we 
 i scarcely a 
 tie our de« 
 
 ing at all— 
 
 ught to be 
 
 enquiry- 
 vexation — 
 
 % Comebj, 
 
 IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 By T. W. EOBERTSON, 
 
 uhnr of *' Society," '' Play;' " ILme," "Caste;' "David Garrick;' *' For Love;' 
 
 •' Ours;' etc , etc. 
 
 FIRST PERFORMEl) AT THE PRINCE OF WALES'S THEATRE. 
 LONDON, UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF MISS 
 MARIE AVILTON, JANUARY 16, 1869. 
 
 TO VUICU IS iJ>CXI> 
 
 ■ 
 
 IdKSCRIPTIOX op THR costumes — CAST OF THE CHABACTER8 — BH* 
 TRANCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PER- 
 FORMERS ON HIE STAOE, AND THE WHOLE 
 OF THE tJTAGE UUSINESS 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBllSHERi 
 
 NO 33 ]U)SK STREET. 
 
i^ir 
 
 2 
 
 tlCUUUL. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Prince, of W'lilfs^ Thmti-r, 
 L(>ndi)\i,Jan. 10, ISUO. 
 
 Jack royntz (Comedy Lend) Mr. lUNcnorr. 
 
 Boiiu i-'urintosh (Cliiiructor Comedy).. Mr. Uaiii:. 
 
 Mr. Kriix (f.'omcdy*) Mr. F. O lover. 
 
 Dr. .Sutclille (Old Man) ......Mr. Addi^cn. 
 
 Lord liuiiufoy ( WiilkinK aent,lcmftn)..Mr. Montaoce. 
 
 Viiu,:lmii (I'tility) .Mr. K. lIiLi.. 
 
 U'llii (Juvcnilo I oiacdy Li.'iul JlisaC Aduison. 
 
 N.'iomi Tij'liu (Juvi'tulu Coiiiwly Lc'ud).Mi.s.s M. Wilton. 
 
 y\v^. .^ittclifT.; (Old Woraun) Mrs. U. White. 
 
 lyiurti (I'tility) .• Mis,s rmMi-s. 
 
 Tdly, Mdly, Clara, K.tty j ^y.j j,,^, llATTiN.cto. 
 
 Ucttic (u Child) Miss Atkins. 
 
 ^yaUacV» riifalrt,] 
 York, MarvU \h,\i 
 
 Mr. Lkkteu Walu 
 
 Jlr. Cil.vul EB I'lSHJ 
 
 Mr. J. II. SronnT 
 Mr. .loH.s (.iiLiiKr.:! 
 Mr. Owen JIaiil.^ 
 
 Mrs. Claba Jesni>J 
 Miss Effik (ikum 
 Mrs. Vebnon. 
 
 TIME OF PLAYING-TWO HOURS AND FORTY MINUTES. 
 
 SCENERY (English). 
 
 ACT I. (no chanf^p).— .\ ffladc in ii Forest, in 4th prooves, hy Himlieht, middll 
 the at'ternoon. Sky and tree sinks, and tree borders, ^'iew on tint oi iiiuxs-ct 
 tish pond, and church in diMtauce. 2d e , rai.sed hank, cDvered with earth-cloth, 
 strewn with moss and flowers, reached from I e level, by slopiiif,' bank. Set nJ 
 to be used as seats, l. and li. A rude rocky seat at foot of set tree, l. r., 2d L'nJ 
 
 ACT II.— Interior in M trrooves, with view of pirden in 4th grooves. School-rJ 
 
 Door. 
 
 Chairs. 
 
 ♦ #• 
 
 Bookcase. 
 
 Desk. 
 
 Closed : 
 
 Q * 
 
 ' * 
 
 : ts: 
 
 IJookcase, not practicable, c, on f., flanked by windows ; n. window to be half j 
 from below, shades to them. Two glolx>s at l. window. M:ir)s on r.. wall. M 
 ancient Greek, or of Minerva, over bookcase. Two long dusks and se Us. i,. si'Iij 
 of desks to open. Arnv-chair to small desk, up «., and Ave haudaonu; chairsj 
 side. Dark, plain patterned carpet down. 
 
 ♦ Can be played by the Low Comedian, but requires serious handling throua 
 
SCHOOL. 
 
 8 
 
 ^(TS III. and IV. -The «amp,only thiM'Hect in Act til., is inooiiljifht (limfliKht, 
 i: ), uml in Ad IV., biigUt Huii-liKht. hchool-y.inl in 5th Ki"<)vts. 
 
 U'dllacVt Thealrr,: 
 Vnrk, March 16, Id 
 
 Mr. Li'HTK.Il W.VLLij 
 Mr. CllAUl KH I'lCHf 
 
 Mr. J II. Stodpu'J 
 Jlr. John (iii.nKr.T 
 Mr. Owen Maui. 
 
 Mrs. Claka Jknm\| 
 Misa Kfkik (iKUii 
 Mra. Vkrnon. 
 
 »Trec. 
 
 I Gate. 
 
 •-4 
 
 imo-li(jht for Moon. 
 
 Arch, 
 
 .-8 
 
 Swing 
 
 13. 
 
 rY MiNirrEs. 
 
 • • • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 • ••• 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 hy Himlipht, middlj 
 
 oil tlill OI UiUXS-?! 
 
 (1 witli carth-clolh.l 
 
 pjiiiii,' bank. Sot pj 
 
 t troo, L. c, 2(1 pro] 
 
 1 uroovos. Sc1ioo1-k| 
 
 Windov. 
 
 Closetl I 
 
 k: 
 
 2 • 
 
 o • 
 
 flat, forest lantlscape, with village church (same as in Act I), t.. 4th prooves. 
 LU set, ten feet high, with a gate in it at c, having the old-fashioned largo 
 le balls on the cap of the gate-posts. Bolt on the gate front, to move. 3d grof)vos, 
 Ijic of trollis-work, very open, with a vine growing scantily over it, an<l up 
 kind frame-work, connecting it with the set wall. L. side open. A bower in 
 |ii(l (iroovcs. A swiii'j, to work with a man's wmglit, l. c, line of 2d E. 11. 1 and 
 set iiouse front witli practicable steps (B.), leading down from door in 2 K. Bc- 
 Jthe stairs, a little garden-bed (A.), covered with vine leaves and stalks, and hav- 
 (a couple of pumpkins on it. The sinks are tree boughs. Set tree, 7-. 4e., has a 
 fh .strong enough to enable Bicaufoy to lift himsell up and snpimrt himself by 
 I look over wall. 11. proscenium e., is open. Three stools and a chair on stage, 
 
 window to be half 
 |iT)S on li. waU. !'■ 
 Is and sells. I., sit: 
 handsome ehuii's 
 
 Is handlmg throui 
 
 COSTUMES (Englhh present day). 
 
 s roYNTZ.- (,\ young gentleman of the day, languid in movement, imemphatic 
 in liis accents, lounging in his walk). Lon;; inoustaclie. Ad 1. • fshooting suit 
 Df velveteen, cutaway coat, dark vest, Itiecfhes, leather leggins, eyc-fibiss. 
 Enters with a gun and usual appendages. I.ow-crowned hat. Watch, chain 
 md channs. Cigai'-case with cipars, aiul mat<'hes to light. Silk handkerchief, 
 3no color, fancy. Act II.: Black pants, with iron-gray stripe, black roat : hair 
 carefully dressed, moustache not so rough as in Act I., eye-glass. Act III. : fame, 
 Ritli long English cavalry officer's over-coat, reaching to nud-leg, and fatigue 
 of same. Cigar-case. Act IV.: Walking dress in gray tweed, low-crowned 
 elt hat, cane ; e; is with his pants rolled uji at the Ixjtton. 
 
 !api 
 
 1: 
 
 
 
I ! 
 
 \ 
 
 4 SCHOOL. 
 
 Beau Fahtntosh.— (A man of about sixty, nged more than his j'cars by fa»{\-i 
 all the Ads but the lust). Diiik liiiir, curlwl, eyebrows dark, inipcriul ilark-': 
 unnaturiiUy hif^h color and whitonei^s of face. Ncrvou.st\vitclun!rs in Ins!. 
 inability to walk steadily; symptoms ot aiiproacliiiijj stitlness and lainenq 
 one leg; very near-sighted, yet hesitating to betiay this defect by usinj; .isn 
 glass, often dropping it alter he has taken hold ot it lor use. Ad I. : (li , 
 •with black band, worn jauntily on one side ; light vest and punts, eye -.] 
 dark coat, cut in the present lashion for young men ; liandsomo scarf ami i. 
 pin, ring ; watch and chain ; cane with tassel. Act 11. : Black suit, lii^ht ; 
 Act 1 V. : Complete change, supposed to be his real-.self, unassisted by nit 
 White hair, light-brown imperial; wrinkled li..ce, black hat, black coat,;| 
 vest, light jjants. 
 Mb. Knt'x.— Ilair rather long behind, and straggling down into his eyes, bushy| 
 brows ; smooth shaven ; malevolent aspect, yict 1. : Black suit, low-cut 
 colored stockings, black hat with deep black band. A book for him to- 
 with. Ad 11. and Ad 111. : White vest, black coat, white tie, dark-gray {-J 
 A large white mark as made by chalk on the back ot his coat, high upoil 
 Bhoulder. Ad IV. : Same as Ad I. 
 
 Dk. hCTCi.ii'FK.— Black suit, white tie. Hat, except Ad IT. 
 
 Louu Bkaufoy. — (This name is pronounced " Bn-/war" a la Frnncaise). Jloustij 
 Ad 1. : Miootiiig suit, low-crowned, black, hard felt hat, leggius ; gun and:. 
 trappings of sportsmen; cigai'-case. Ad II. : Black suit. Ad 111. ; Fiook-j 
 buttoned up, hat. Ad 1 V. : stylish black suit, white ve.st, white camelHaoi] 
 coat breast. 
 
 Vavouan.— (Fauintorh's Valet). Black suit, rather old style. Make up old. 
 
 Two FooTMKN.— For Act T. dark livery, and for Ad IV. in long drab coats andj 
 banded black hats, white gloves. 
 
 Two Gamkkkkpkus.— Leggins, guns, game-bags. 
 
 A TioEU.— In blue coat, with the usual leather strap for belt, buckskin bree< 
 top boots, black hat with gold band. (Being only to walk on to help form| 
 ture, he may bo dispensed with, at discretion of Stage Manager.) 
 
 Bella.— riain dress. Ad IV. : Handsome white satin dress, ana bride's attire,| 
 
 Naomi.— Short dress of girls of fifteen (if the performer's figure is petite', i 
 stylish; red petticoat, dress taken up in loop.s. Ad III.: In white; 
 mantle, wliile handkerchief, knotK-d loosely round her neck. Her last eiitd 
 has jacket and hat on, carries a small bundle. Ad IV.: Same as first 
 or nuiy diange at pleasure 
 
 Mrs. Sutcliffe.— Gray hair. Ad I.: Dark dress over dark petticoat, dark bod 
 dark gloves. Ad II.: Showy, old-fashioned patterned figured silk dress, ^aj 
 House-dress, black lace mittens. 
 
 Lai'ha and other School Giuls— In ordinary di'esses ; plenty of ribbons on in A^\\ sW^. 
 Change for Ad IV., at pleasure. 
 
 rnOPEJlTTES {See Scenery). 
 
 ACT I.— Baskets, books, garlands of flowers and leaves for School GinLS ; boo) 
 Kurx ; small book for Bf.i.la ; two explosions ready u., as for guns, deadoiit 
 if in the distance ; table ti fold up, throe chairs to fold up, cloth, luncliLur, 
 eervice for three, wine-bottles and glasses, basket tocaiTy tliem in; a pa 
 largo india-rubbers. Ad 77. -Bowl and ba>ket partly filled with green \^ 
 pod ; iieiioils, slates, pens, pai)er, books on desks, it. and l. ; a clothts-l 
 Ad 7//.— Three stools, chair; a piano is to play a waltz ofl' ii. ; bell to ring < 
 ^ct 71'.— The stools and chair as before ; pumpkins on garden-beds, K. ; Ic 
 chest on castors for rolling u., as for carriage approaching. 
 {For SvNorsis, etc., see last page.\ 
 
f 
 
 of ribbons on in M 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 - ACT I. 
 
 |ENE. — Wood tn 4.th grooves. Sunlight effect. 
 " Ceiieieiilola " Overture. 
 
 Overture : Rossini's 
 
 over School Girl ; seated, stonding. rtrlining, forming picture, about t' e 
 \itiTjc, \st E. Bi-:li,a, book in IkuuI. st'induiy by set tree, l. c. Naomi, 
 \ silting itp, on bank, k. c, front. Lauka l. front, on bank. 
 
 tLLA. {reading). "Then the two elder sisters stepped into a beautiful 
 ii, and drove r<F to tlie kings jiaiace ; leaving poor Cinderella all 
 'r lo return to her place in tiie chinniey-coriier, where she said : ' I 
 
 but she soblied so tiiat she could not speak any further. Then 
 
 Kliinther {ch>ldi'<hlij reverently) who was a fairy." 
 MY. A fairy! {el'isp^ her hands, looks up tn awe.) 
 )Mt. I wish my {fodmother was a fairy I 
 ILLY. So do I ! 
 L. S ) do all of u> ! 
 
 om. Be (piiet, ijirls ! Go on please, Bella. 
 
 L. (ira'is). " Who was a fairy— s-iid : ' If you will be a good yirl, 
 sliill 1^0 ' Bill Cinderella said : ' I cant go in these iikhy rat^s.' '' 
 L Poor thinij ! 
 
 ')ui. If I di In't have nice dresses, I sliould die ! 
 ;l. (j-eidi). " Tiie:i her godmother mad'? her go out into the sanleu 
 
 i>ti'!i in a pumpkin, which she took and scooped out the inside " 
 
 riY. Wis it nic? ? {the Girl next to IIftty sdrnces her pi'iyfidly.) 
 ^:l. [re fit). "Scooped out the inside, leaving nothiiifT but the' rind, 
 
 1 s!i^ turned into a beautiful coach, gilded all with gold ! " 
 |ll Oh' {delighted) 
 
 >oMi liravo, pumpkin ! That teas '' some pumpkins " 
 
 ILL. 'Sh ! 
 iL. (}.)on, Bella. 
 Ll. (reida). " Then the go.lmother went to the mouse-trap, and took 
 
 .X mice, all alive ' 
 
 J.vt.Mi {in dis/'fs/). IJjh ! I hate mice! 
 
 IvuiiA {yatvns). I don't know how it is, l)ut fairy tales ahvay.s make 
 >lee,»y ! Ah ! ( frdls a4eep on l. froiit hank. ) 
 
 ii;l {reuls^. " When she touched them with lior wand, thoy liu'ned 
 l^i.K flue d;ip])le-gray horses." 
 :.L. Oil. my ' 
 
 l''L. " And with lizards she matlo the runiiing-footmen, and with the 
 Jpkin seeds sonii' to stand behind the coach, six feet high." 
 \iL. Six feel! ub, myl 
 
r^ 
 
 !i I 
 
 w 
 
 6 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 Bel. (reads). " But poor Cinderella sat cryincf in the corner, looK 
 at her poor raised gray dress, and said : ' But 1 can't go to the baiji 
 thes(? riiijs ' — wlien tln^ fairy touclied her with lier wand, and her rj 
 turned inlo a niauniiicent ball dtef^s." 
 
 All {in ecstdsij). Dear nie ! oii ! 
 
 Bel. (reads). " Covered all over with the brightest jewels ! " 
 
 All. Oil! 
 
 Naomi. I should Mk*^ to be {jodmothered like Uiat ! 
 
 Bel. (rtads). • So Cinderella got into the ooach and drove ofT — .' 
 
 Maomi [iinitdtcs flourish of a staye-driver'a horn in the old driving/ duA 
 Tan-tr.-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra ! " 
 
 All. Hush ! silence ! Go on, Bella. 
 
 Bel. (reads). " As soon as she arrived at the palace, the king's 
 came out to receive her at the door." 
 
 "AIiL. Oil ! I should like to see a kind's son. (nil nvirwar assrtit.) 
 
 Naomf. Pooh : he's not diticent IVom other men, only that he has(^ 
 crowns to his head. 
 
 Til. (solemnly). And often no soul. 
 
 All. Oil! 
 
 Bel. (reads). " And asked her to permit him to lead her to the dance] 
 
 ]MiL. Ah ! 1 should like to dance wiih a prince. 
 
 All. So should we all ! 
 
 Bel. " I or the prince had fallen in love with her " 
 
 All (doahlfuihi). Oh ! 
 
 ISAOMr. And why shouldn't he ? I suppose princes fall in love like 
 (linary folks. 
 
 Mil. Only it is much better. 
 
 Til. Bella, wiiat is love i* 
 
 Mil. Oh ! 1 don't believe even you big girls can tell what it is. 
 
 Naomi (laftihi). Pooh ! everybody knows what love is. 
 
 Mil. What is it then? 
 
 Kaomi. It is — ii is — who bas got a dictionary? (Xi.h laugh, ha, ha, ha 
 You'll find it there. 
 
 Til. And my sisier says that is the only ])lace where you will find ii 
 
 Mil. And my faiiior says it is all moonshine. 
 
 Naomi Then how bright and mellow it must be. 
 
 Til When it is at its full. 
 
 Naomi, li is always at that. • 
 
 Mil. Bui what is love 1 
 
 Til. No one knows. 
 
 Naomi. When it comes it brings nil its own story, like a new teacli 
 who briims with him all his own books. 
 
 Til. We have a music-m.ister to teach us music — why don't we haw 
 a love-mas'er to teach us love.' 
 
 All. Ah ' why not .' 
 
 Naomi. Love is not !ik(> ti' oir'aphy .nnd the use of globes — love is a: 
 "e.xtia." Somebody says love and fortune come to us when we sleeji 
 Ask Laura what love is. 
 
 Mil. (shakes \,\vr.k). Lama, what is love ? 
 
 Lau. (sltepdy lifts Iter hi'd. star s round). Am I not truly thine own 
 (fl// titter.) 
 
 Enter, n. 2 e., Mus. Sttcliffe and conns dou-n to c. v/// the Ginhs rise an 
 form two rou'/i, tnc each side of her, 
 
 Mks H Well, young la lies, what i tli*> r:inse of all your raerrimeul 
 what ha» led lo bu ;^eneral an exhibition of hil.iiity 1 
 
:e, the king's J 
 
 lier to the dauc 
 
 .11 in love like cJ 
 
 ACT I. I 
 
 fAOMi. We have a question to ask you. 
 
 Mil. Ves ; what is love 1 (Mrs. &dtclifpb is amazed.) 
 
 ^LL. What is lovel ^ 
 
 liiT. Ves. wli.it is love? 
 
 Mrs, S ixt't miners). "What is love 1 " really, I— I—Oh! (m relief) 
 te is tlio Doctor ! - 
 
 icr B. 2 E., walkiny uith umhrella used fts a cnne^ Dr. Sutcliffe. Sa- 
 lutes all the GiULS by liftmg hat.* 
 
 Mrs. S. Doctor, 1 have had the most extraordinary question proposed 
 
 Indeed, my dear ? 
 
 liiit' 
 
 llu. S. 
 
 ll!Ki>. Wliut is love.' {eagcrlij.) 
 
 IliKX. Yes, \vh;it is love ? ' ** 
 
 1)K. S. Wliat is love 1 {gravchj) The cuneiform inscriptions on the 
 
 Ibvloiiic Uiarbles {the (jikls turn away dwij)pouit('d) having only 
 
 coiiily been deciphered, I will conliiie myseli to the comparatively 
 
 )H' modern ideas on the subject prevalent among the ancient Greeks. 
 
 ^ve was known to them as Eros — but there were three separate Eroses. 
 
 llie tirst place liie Eros of the ancient Cosmogony, whom Hesiod men- 
 
 ^iis in his works, known hence as the Cosmogonic Eros. Hem ! Sec- 
 
 (lly. (Girls arc disgusitd, and talk omouy thousdvis. Mrs. S. folds 
 
 V- jiiittds, and half shuttiny her eyes, Itstuis cfunpl'iceutly) There was the 
 
 }()s of the sages, who maintained iL was only the personification of au 
 
 lMil).st!Uitial essence, and this was called the Pliilosophic Eios. Hem ! 
 
 Ill lasliy, tliere was the Eros of the degenerate Greeks, who said errone- 
 
 ^,,lv — erroneously, that theirs was the tirst of the Eroses — the parentage 
 
 Kios. 
 IMk.<;. S. {wakes vp. couyhs). Ahem ! 
 [Pit. S The parentage of Eros — (Mrs. S. yires him a look) Ah ! the 
 |iienta<ie of Eros — hem. hem ! is doubtful. The generally received idea 
 IS tliat lie was the son of Zeus— that is, Jupiter — and of Aphrodite — 
 
 lal is, Venus 
 
 LMus. S. {coughs). Hem! 
 
 Dk. S. So that he would be both son and grandson of^of — (Mrs. S. 
 Us at him meaningly. ILc starts) I beg pardon my dear, {aloud) That 
 
 I love! I mention this because — because {quickly) I am about to say 
 
 more on the subject, {faint chuckle to himself.) 
 Naomi. 1 know what love is ! (All start, and Dr. S. and Mrs. S. are 
 
 \rrfi>d.) 
 
 .Mi:s. S. Bless me! 
 
 Dk. S. How forward the child is! 
 
 Naomi. Yes. {draws Bblla to her) I love Bella and Bella loves me, 
 Dii'l you, Bella 1 
 
 Dr. S {relieved) Ah ! right, for we all love Bella. Indeed, who 
 mid help loving her? (Mrs. S. expresses distaste to what is being said) 
 "'xlne.ssand atJ'ection must always command the good opinion of those 
 
 loiuiii US. 
 
 Naomi {aside to Bella). Don't he talk like a copy-book! 
 Dr. S. (/o Bklla). I suppONO yon biongiii the girls hero to perfect 
 lieiu in their botanical siiulies .' 
 
 ^. 
 
 "' \ 
 
 
 n 
 
 hA 
 
 our merrnneutJ 
 
 ►(iiiii.K. Dii. S.* Mus. 8.* OiiiLH. 
 
 «■ ♦ ♦ • ♦ • 
 
 Mii.i.Y.* Tilly.* Lai:ua.* 
 
 l^AOUI;* *B£LXwA. 
 
W I 
 
 H SCHOOL. 
 
 NA.OMI (aside). To lie in clover and sifjli for hearts-ease ! 
 
 Mrs. S Young ladies, if you have sufficier*'; reposed from yourstn 
 \n the woods, we will proceed in another direction hefore returning] 
 resume (rtir self-imposed tasks, {nil the Gikls forin a Ime, some in pat, 
 others pliyDiij with (jarlands. They siny " Come away, elves ! " or a smd 
 achool-girVs chorus, and go slowly off i,. 2 k. Bella at the end of the In 
 hastily returns to wake up Lmjha, fallen sleep again, and exit with LacrJ 
 L. 2 K. The song ts continued diminuenilo after exit of all.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {on Dr. S.'s l.). Really, my dear Doctor, you will per.>^isi:i 
 commending?, absurdly praising up that yirl Bella — it's settinj; a bad ej 
 ample before all the young ladies. A most pernicious example ! 
 
 Dr. S. Poor Bella ! does not she more than they require words 
 cheer and praise ? she is that sad social anomaly, a pupil-teacher. Alas! 
 Besides, Bella it so pretty and so young. 
 
 Mrs. S. {querulously). Ah ! that's it ! so young I Cruel Theodore. 
 
 Dr. S. My dear ! 
 
 Mrs. S. To remind me of my early years! {affected sobbing.) 
 
 Dr. S. That is \ery far from my intentions ! (Mrs. S. takes seat hy\ 
 c. tree.) 
 
 Mrs. S, You are forever dwelling on the fleeting and unsubstantiji 
 charms of youth. 
 
 Dr. S. {coughs). Ahem! 
 
 Mrs. S. Ah ! as if I do not lemember five-and-thirty years ago i 
 
 Dr. S. You are coiitinually dinning it into my ears— so I am not likel| 
 to forget it. 
 
 Mrs. S. It is cruel of you. 
 
 Dr. S. Because I danced three times with a pretty girl. Surely thirty! 
 five years of conjugal devotion should obliterate 
 
 Mrs. S. We had been seven years married, then. 
 
 Dr. S. Surely you would not imagine 
 
 Mrs. S. Not for a rairmte, but then — ah, me ; we are getting old to 
 gethei'. 
 
 Dr. S. I can't help that! It cannot have been so heinous a crime J 
 to earn a life-long penalty — the paying attentions to a pretty girl — undel 
 such circumstances: the host was hospitable, the negus was strong, an| 
 the young lady's conversation exhilarating ! Come, {seated beside Mrs. 
 on her r. ) you won't be hard on Theodore 1 Don't be hard on Theodon 
 {takes her hand affectionately.) 
 
 Enter, r. 2 e., eyes bent on open ^'■■ok in hand. Mr. Krcx, coming doicn, r. ^ 
 
 Dr. S. {rises). Well, Mr. Krux, so you are enjoying the beautiful 
 day ! 
 
 Krux. No, sir, I am enjoying this beautiful book. (Mr. and Mrs. S 
 comi' down, l. c.) 
 
 Dr. S. Ah! what is it? 
 
 Krltx {hollow vnce). Ilervey's Meditations on the Tomb. 
 
 Dr. 8. Oil I rather incongruous I 
 
 Kr.ux. Not to my taste, sir. The green meadows, the shining waters 
 the bloom of the flowers, twittering (»f the birds, all these smack of mor 
 talitv. and lend my thoughts to the grave. 
 
 Mrs 8. Good gracious! 
 
 I)i; S. They don't do anything of the sort to me. They send my 
 thoughts b.Tok to the p.TSt 
 
 Mrs. S. Not to thirty-five years a.20, Theodore 1 
 
 Dr. S. Not to ihirty-flve years aao ! Certainly not lolhirty-fiveyear.^ 
 »go— lo thiity-four or to thirty-six year."*, my dear, but we -won't say lo 
 
ACT I. 
 
 9 
 
 |irtv-/ft<' .' Come along, my love. (Mrs. S. takei Dr. 's orm) We will 
 ll intnule on your in^piritiiifi; meditations, Mr Krux. {faxnt chuckie, 
 Lcj 1 can't bear prigs. lies a prij^. Come, my dear. 
 j [Exii with Mrs. S., l. 2 e. 
 
 |];,;l-\ {alone, contanptuoualy). Up^^tarts ! 1 hate those people! 1 hate 
 J()sl lu'ople ! 1 hale must things, {starts as if he smv a worm on the 
 foumi, stamps and grinds supposed worm under his foot) except Bella ! 
 heu 1 J'ee her 1 feel us [f~ {hesitates /or word) — as if 1 could bite her I 
 toks L. 1 E.) Oh ! here she is. 
 
 xnd unsubstand 
 
 v]. Surely thh'tyl 
 
 re getting old U 
 
 They send nm 
 
 Enter Bella, reading book, crosses to ^. 1 B. * 
 
 Krux. Bella! Bella! {Bella, stops and turns at &, c.) Where are you 
 
 ruel Theodore. ■""" 
 
 Bel. Going to fetch Mrs. Sutcliflfe's overshoes. 
 
 Kkl'X. Slay one moment. 
 
 Bel. I was told not to loitei. 
 
 Kkl'X. What are you reading 1 
 
 Bi:l. F;iiiy-lalcs. 
 
 Kuux. .-Vli ! {■'■neering ) 
 
 Bi:l. AVIial's your book 1 
 
 Kiu-x. Ilervey's Mediiations, a difierent sort of literature. Come, sit 
 
 uii. {thcg sit by L. c. tree, he on her lift ) 
 
 Bel. {reads). " Tlie kind's son (hen came and sat beside her. lie \vas 
 
 most handsome young man, and his conversation filled her with de- 
 
 KiuTX. Bella, what a beastly world this is. There's a question I 
 laiited to ask yon. 
 
 'Bki,. You must bo quick then. 
 
 KuL'X. Bella, Mr. and Mrs. ►SutclifTe are getting old. 
 !Bei.. They are not, gittmg old ; Ihey are old. 
 
 Kuux. And thorofore will soon die. 
 
 Bi:i,. {starts). What a dreadful thought! 
 
 Kkl'x. We are all worms ! So are Mr. and Mrs. SutclitTe. All men 
 |ii«L die some time. The Doctor and Mr. SutclilFe cannot escape that 
 Ite, 
 
 Bel. But Mrs. SutclifTe is not a man. 
 
 Kuux. She ouuhi to have been. The Doctor and Mrs. SutclifFe are 
 ?uijig old, and may be soon exi)ected to die. Then they cannot carry 
 |i the school. Who is to carry on the school 7 
 
 Bel. 1 don L know. 1 don't like to think about such things. 
 
 Kiiux {unctuouali/). /do. 1 repeat, who is to carry on the schooll I 
 111 liic only resident master. 1 am known to all the parents and to the 
 
 lll.li.s 
 
 Bel. Alas, yes ! 
 
 Kucx. And I hope, loved by them. 
 I Bel. No! not loved ! feared. 
 
 Kurx. {placidly). It's the same thing in schools. Bella, you are 
 la'iii'd 
 
 Hel. Oh. no. I'm not, 
 
 Kiu'x. Yes. you are. So am I. You understand, too, all about the 
 
 icht'ii, ninking of pies and puddings, washing and doing up liueu. You 
 [o nil orphan ] 
 
 Bel Yes, an orphan, {s-tdiy.) ■ 
 
 Kuux. So am 1. You have no relational 
 
 Bel. No!. 
 
 'J 
 
 i- ■'f- 
 
10 
 
 scnooL. 
 
 KRUxt. No more have I. Yon li.ive no friends 1 
 
 liEL. Oil, yi'S. [smihs atid herjdce losts tU sad expression) The Do 
 and iMis. Siuoliire, Uie people in iho vill.ige 
 
 Kuux. Oil I I (lon'l connL (hmt ! 1 have no frien<l3. 
 
 liKL. No ! noi one ! 
 
 Kiiux. Wlieii Ml. and Mrs. Sutddfe d— d— ^o / why should nol 
 keep on wilU llie school ? 
 
 Bel. Wei 
 
 Kuux. Yes, we; you and I. I am capable — so are yon. You cftij 
 numa^^e Ihe girls — I ct)uUi niaiiaye ilie boys. Tliink bow pleasamj 
 would be to niake money loyoLlier. [nibs Ins /lands {.irougly mid stailti.t.t 
 We could lake in llie pupils, and ti-acli ibem and correct ibem^l slioui 
 like lo correct the boys ! We should make more money if we got luij 
 ried. 
 
 Bkl. {shrinks away). Got married ? who get married ? 
 
 Kk..- 'Ve — you to me — I to you ! " Mr. and Mrs; Krux, ColleJ 
 Hvu.se ! {as if reading off his book (over) Bella, 1 love you! 
 
 Bel. (_rises). Oh! {to r. c. front ) And on such a nice day, too ! (KRrl 
 comes to c.) To suppose that the good Doctor and Mrs. Sutciitl'e cdJ 
 die and leave us ad that love them so much ! Don't touch me ! {to u j| 
 
 Kuux. {apnealingly). Bella! 
 
 Bi:l. Oh' yoM bud man! to talk of death and raaniage and su{| 
 
 awful J 'iUr'S 
 
 Kklx {< I J' f i'o Bc;lt,a). I j)roposed it all for your good, Bella ! al 
 fo;' your ;4*-'>d. Yon w<'r, t go and leli the DocLoi', and gel me into U\i[ 
 b!'*. vi.l yo\i7 Yoi; >vr ^ t will you, Bella 7 {very humbly ) 
 
 l?Ki.. 1 "'!( I'll if y ■. ;,.•, ptiii.se never lo mention such a subject apai:! 
 
 Kkl'x. ill 1 1, e ».i} '..t'> to it. Bella, lake vnur oalh— lake >oi( 
 oalh, won't you 1 
 
 Bkl. No! 1 will give you my word. To think of our kind benefa(| 
 tors dying ! Oh ! {covers her face uith her hands for a second) Oh I }'. 
 wicked man! 1 wonder something don t hap{)en to you. (erjdosion as q 
 ^un. off It. u. E.) There! Oh! 1 wont slay with you any moie. (^rM«s (j!J 
 n., proscenium E. ) 
 
 Krux {calls off v..). Bella ! where are you going 1 
 
 Bkl. {off). To fetch the overshoes ! 
 
 Kuux {to R. c). A bad girl ! she will come to no good! Ungrateful 
 riltle beast. 
 
 |H^'.''.| 
 
 J A. 
 
 \Vn '. 
 
 Km 
 
 'ntcr, 
 \ 
 di 
 
 IJnter, r. 2 E., Lord Beaufoy, gun finder his arm, looking round.) 
 
 Krux {osule, looking nff\ r. 1 E.). Reject my ofler — refuse the lionorl 
 would have done her ! What is she, alter all ] (-nly a i)auper. a dependj 
 aiil on the charily of others. Ah ! I fear she will never end well. (LoRif 
 Beaufoy comes dou-n c.) 
 
 Beaufoy. I say, my dear man, have you seen anybody pass here iij 
 the Wood I 
 
 Kuux. A young girl with a book 1 
 
 Beau. No ! an old gentleman with a servant. 
 
 Enter, r. 2 e., gun under arm, Jack Poyntz, '^"nyes down L. c. 
 
 Jack {aside, cycmg Krux). What a mangy-looking cur. 
 
 Beau. J;ick. are you sure this is the place we appoinled for lbenieet| 
 
 Jack. yes. (/00A4 l. 2 s-) For here he cometi. 
 
AC' 
 
 11 
 
 ssion) Tlie Dc 
 
 titer, L. 2 E., Grooms a)id Tickr. n-h,. . /f tabic c, and spread it, and place 
 
 three scuts. 
 
 ly should not B Jack {tvalks up to Knvx meaiiitiffl!/). Good morning 1 
 
 yon. You cor. 
 Ih)\v plcasain; 
 iiffii^ ami sltdlt,., 
 ^l llieni— I slioin 
 y if we got my 
 
 ? 
 
 s; Krux, ColleJ 
 
 you ! 
 
 day, too! (KRrl 
 
 i. lSiitciit!e c(M.l 
 
 ich me! (to k T 
 
 an iage and sucj 
 
 •good, Bella! 
 yet me into tixj 
 
 /) 
 
 a .subject anaiJ 
 oath- take yod 
 
 n- liiiid benefaij 
 second) Oli I yi 
 . ( exjiloston as c\ 
 ' moie. (jruus i4 
 
 od 1 Ungratefc 
 
 ktnp round.) 
 
 use the lior.or 
 nper. a depend 
 Mid well. (LoRi 
 
 ly pass here ii 
 
 down L. c. 
 i for the meet 
 
 [wo Game-keepers enter r. 2 e., and remain there at ease, leaning on guns. 
 Kiu'X. Ciood mornin!4, sir. [licit ii., proscenium e. 
 
 \)i(ir, L. 3 E.. tvilh affected gouthfal skip, Beau Farintosii, on the arm of 
 
 \ VAl'fJUAX. (iKooM.S end Tior.K retire ap to L. ii K., and stand at case, 
 
 during meal. Fauintosu crosses to c, stands puzzled, then goes to Jack. 
 
 t 
 Far. Arthur, my dear boy ! so happy to .see you. How well you look 
 -yev ves— how well ! slad to see you . Kli, eh ( 
 
 Jack {qnicdg). Mr. Farintosh, my mununa had not the honor of being 
 Jour sister. 
 
 Fak. Mv sister ? Eh. oh ? oh ! Yes, yes ! My siirht i.s so— yes, yes. 
 \ti> Udaufov. skilc'S his h"ivl) Arliiur, ylad to see you lookiiiu so well ! 
 fes. ves ! How am I ^ {thinks he heard the question, but don t know tvhich 
 j.kt'it Tarns from one to t/nothir) Thank vou ! never boiler in my 
 fff! Sound coiisiiiuiioii, all llie faculties clear, yes, yes—never better 
 1 mv lile ! ( pl'ii/s with his ege-glass, his haul shaking uerrouslg.) 
 Ukau. I look the liberty of biin<4inu' down an old friend wilh me, to 
 iiMcipalo in youi- perniissioii to slioot over your lands. Permit, rue, 
 ii(l<\ .Ml-. Jack P.)yiit/.. Jack, Mr. Percy Farintosh. (the usual salutes). 
 Fau. Poyni/ I ell.' Poyniz! Poyni/ ! of the Worcestershire Poyntz / 
 Jack. Yes. 
 
 F-vii idctit/hfed, sh rkcs Jack's hand). 1 knew your iirnndfather, sir ! I 
 ii'.iii y(Uir father; he was my second in a duel, jusl afler the Battle of 
 yes, yes ! oli ! oh! sit down, sit down. (Bkaueoy nods to the fr- 
 iii.s lo intimate theg arc not wanted. Thcg e.reutit h and R. 2 K.'s. Far- 
 .sr'>su takes seat c. of table, Bkaupov on his h., Poyntz on his R.) 
 15i:ai;. {rises). Well, uncle, ^lla^l I help you to anything? 
 Far. No! tnanks — not liiniz before dituier. 
 
 IJkau. {serves Jack. Jiti^iness of preparing to eat and drink). You were 
 m; up when we came down so early. 
 
 Far. No, no. Karly to bed, late up — that's my motto. Ha, ha I ray 
 nolio 
 
 Hkau. \our m!\u siave us the permission to shoot, and we left word 
 aIkto you would liud us. 
 
 Far. Vausihan informed me. (Jack -eats sofuriouslg as to attract Far- 
 NTosu'.s attenttoa) Slioot as long as you like. The hares want thinning 
 Mil— ihe /jrt/r.s— ha, ha ! {ege-glass up lo regard Jack.) Eh. eli I you seem 
 lo have a good appetite, sir 1 
 Jack. Tolerable. 
 Far. lis quite a coiufort. 
 Jack. Very. Its my principal talent. 
 Fai: .\n enviable one. 
 
 Jack .Viid very convenient, at table. Am I in the way? If you say 
 BO. the luii'-heon and I will leave you alone ! 
 
 lU. By no means, uncle ; .Jack is my oldest friend and the most 
 [woithy of the title. 1 suppose it is on the old subject. 
 Jack. The old subject ? Not death 1 (drtnks and eats.) 
 Far. No, marriage 
 
 k 
 
 u 
 
 )l- 
 
 
I 
 
 i. t 
 
 ! i 
 
 ii ' 
 
 12 
 
 SCHUUL. 
 
 Jack. Ah ! family troiiMos, I see. I really iieedn't adjourn with 
 luiu'li ? {miil:(s )H'irtinrnf pluyfidly tts if to carry table and all ojf n. ) 
 
 Fau. \V..|1, Mi.-Mi. -I 
 
 Jack, royntz. 
 
 1''aii. TliiiiiU yon. Mr. Poyni/., Poynfz, yos. yes! My nephew and! 
 are at |()i;;;<'i|i('uil> Iiocjuim! 1 wish liiiti In iii;irry. 
 
 Jack {votiinj). Hard! but home uncles are hiie that. (Fahintosu /«() 
 at him (iijhust.) 
 
 Far. 'I'iieii you uover wore married ? 
 
 Jack. No I hut 1 have liceu once in (luarantino for ten day.s, oflTMal!; 
 
 Fak. I have been married. 
 
 Jack. There, 1 have the advantage of you. I am the sinnrlest yoimj 
 n)an po.ssihle. f>pen to competiiion, No ohjections to any amount tl 
 money, (Fakintosii «^^>ts ^?< Inm.) 
 
 Ukau. {sinilts). Von mustn't mind Jack, uncle. It's liis way 
 
 Fail {(jravdy). My wife died when wo were young, ilad she iive 
 I miuiit liave been a diliciiMit man. 
 
 Jack {'Irilij, holf osnii). Dead — most likely ! (Farintosh starts nn\ 
 looks tit /mil "III'.':.'//. .Jack iliinhs calitdi/ ) 
 
 JJKAU. 1 1 i^ a nicliinciioly >lory. 1 fancy I shall get along with it fastpr| 
 than llie l>c;iu. \'ou must know that my micle's son was rather will 
 and in soin<> \v:iy displeased him, .so that they parted. He married ani 
 took his wifi' abroad. 
 
 F\vR. Wiiiioui consulting me. 
 
 Bkau. WIicip he died. 
 
 Far. Poor Fied ! before I could see liim and show how heartily i| 
 forgave him. {(motion.) 
 
 15i;au. Since then, the wife and n child disappeared, beyond the abilityl 
 of the keenest researches to discover. 
 
 Fau. 1 would give thousands to hear of them! 
 
 Jack. Try the second cohnun of the 'J'.nus. You will have shoals ofl 
 applicants to — ' Wantkd to Adopt, an heir to the pioperty of a gentle-l 
 man of good fannly and large means." But why seek fiu'ther than onl 
 this spot 1 Here you have " a fine, healthy, respectable child, with uoodl 
 aj)petiie and expensive habits already laid on. N. B.— No objections to| 
 travel, or to go in single or double harness." 
 
 Far. You are facetious. (7'o Beaui-'oy). Your friend has a singularl 
 humor ! 
 
 Bkau. Which son)etiiues runs away with him. 
 
 Jack. An<l sometimes floors him when he least intended to give it | 
 rein. ' P'akintosu tirr,p!s tin- iijiolniiy irilh a nod and smile.) 
 
 Fai:. L'M me 1i;iv(' your opinion on the subject. 
 
 Jack. If noi loo a'l sii ii-e. 
 
 Far. In plain words, 1 want Arthur to marry. 
 
 Bkau. And I as plainly r^'fuse. 
 
 Far. You are such a sinyuiar man. 
 
 Bkau. And theretbre reipiire such a singular wife. 
 
 Far. I feel distressed at your apathy. What was man invented for| 
 but to marry 1 
 
 Bi;At'. My dear uuole, I have not the least objection, but I really can-l 
 not accept the couuteifeit. when I know it is not the genuine note. 1 1 
 shall marry when I can find a woman. 
 
 Jack. Oh ! there's f^^nty about. 
 
 Beau. I mean a real woujan. 
 
 Jack. Ah! flui't's different. And what do yon mean by "a real| 
 woman 1 " Give the party the particidars ! " Name vour age, weight anc^ 
 color." 
 
ACT 1. 
 
 13 
 
 idjoiirn witli ij 
 <i II of II) 
 
 y liepliew and] 
 
 ;.FaKIXTOSII IfM 
 
 I clays, off Malt; 
 
 ' siuslest yoiinj 
 -any ainouni 3 
 
 lis way 
 Had she iire 
 
 ;tosh starts aA 
 
 )nij with it faslcrl 
 ias lalher wiljl 
 le married auj 
 
 how heartily 
 yond tlie abiliul 
 
 liave slioals o(l 
 ty of a {ientle-l 
 utiier tliaii onj 
 lild, with yoodl 
 o objections tol 
 
 lias a singular 
 
 nded to give ii 
 
 invented for 
 
 I really can- 
 uine note. I 
 
 by " a real 
 ;<^, weight ani^ 
 
 BEAr. Well, I don't want one of l!io n^nulallon pattern, whom, lost in 
 Icniwd, you cannot tell tr<im ilu' liundied others similarly adorned. 1 
 
 lowilK-Myle. {iiiitintKj, vtUd. nffn- led tone) '' i love ])iipa I love niamma ! 
 lam kind to my little sisters and broilicis ' I i^o to chmcli on t^mlday • 
 
 tct ij(" tf rliuMtla est II H limn / (J/i, iiiun l)rtii, ijiicUv jiAif p> Ute jjonpee est 
 
 iff iiiinfill* i/Kt Inn uppdUc un uvtri ! C'tst it nioi, toute a moi, stutfinenl 
 
 iiM f (fli. >»!>• (Hill*- V" '■''"« e'f>* hulls et (jriiciviix I Mun. wn pmeutM !" 
 
 Fak. Di'Voil lioai liiiit ' lis protiine— jiioiiine — <iinie profane ! 
 LIacK ('■Jt'i'i F.MM.Mosii ciijar-cdsi). Do you ? 
 
 Fak. No ! Thanks, 
 [Jack {liyhts cigar). Ah! 
 
 Far. Do you ? 
 
 Jack. 1 do everything. 
 
 Far. How you must enjoy life ! 
 
 .Iatk. I leave iiothins to be envied by a Caligula. A fellow is so 
 ?uceiily comfortable when he has no intellect. 
 
 Fais -Many people lind it so. Arthur, your opinions are flat blasphe- 
 |s —blasphenjy ! V«s, yes! How can you journey though life without 
 
 )\viii(,' down to the representatives of beauty \ 
 
 IJkau. Beauty! \Vh;iL is beauty'? Something bought in bottles and 
 
 i 1 til with a brush. 
 
 Far. {aifhitst). Don't you believe in beauty 1 
 
 ViV.w. S'es, but ncjt in paint. 
 
 Far, Paint ! 
 
 Heac. Paint ! shall I promise to clierish a jilaster cast? Shall I love 
 \y\. iutiior a living fresco.'' Slmll I take instead of a yoimg wile, an old 
 
 ■'■■>■/ III not make ''the wife of iiii/ bosom,' one who.se own are not 
 
 ;:i>rant of Manunaiial Halm ! Spices and pii:nHMits are for ti:yj)tian 
 Minimies. not for breeders of (lesh and hiorxl. Shall I dwell with a crea- 
 
 e who is oiip built-up lie i* (Faimntosii is (inidztd, and ktfpi tnjiuff to 
 
 'irrupt) I choose men for my triciids, who do not ttll ^ lie ; am I to 
 jl.nosi. Women friends who ad them ? 
 
 Ja( K. Wiiicli means tiiat when vou are (iflv. vou will niarrv vour 
 lok' ( Faui.nto.'^h tiiri'S from Bkaukov and stares at Jack, nir/i his ltp$ 
 nr I hi open, in ijreat horror) Because she does not wear pearl powder when 
 III acijve >ervice. 
 
 Ueal'. Ihanl; you ! tlic charms of my wife shall be warranted to wash. 
 
 Jatk. Vou mean, not to wash olf. 
 
 Far. I am shocked. 
 
 Hk AU. So I don't want to marry. 
 
 Far. Oh ! marriage is one of nature's proudest attributes! Eh, eh? 
 t^" yes. 
 
 IJuAU. Then aaain, .some women —hem ! feni'drs would attempt to de- 
 troy gallantry and chivalry by a call for etpiality with man. What is 
 "iiiality with man ? having your coats made by a he-tailor instead of 
 til by a she-dress-maker ? What pleasure in man and wife brint: meas- 
 red together by the same hand? Oh' the felicity of niaFohin<i up to 
 Ise polls wiih the being on voir,- aim who is sure to vote for the very 
 ;.'iilidale who'u you most detesied. (Farixto.su is amazed and motes rcst- 
 '<!'/ on his .*r 't from one to the of/er.) 
 
 .Iack irdinli/). I agree with Voa there, (pours onf a al'ss lei.virebf) A 
 if'inan would sell her vote for llie ])rice of a new f^wHOM .' X«> ! Man 
 s the nobler animal, has the sole aiid proud prifflese of disposing of 
 lis vote for {drinks) beer! {jhoytonnce in English gti/le, affectedly, ''^Q- 
 h ! ") 
 
 Beau. Bah ! give me simtdici y. I am one of the old school. 
 
 Fab. (rises and leans hi* hi"^'- '>« fntfi^ "r fhc uvtcl i^f^y^ct-cf old aeniU- 
 
 i . t , 
 
 I 
 
 |l:!i 
 
] i 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 men making a spcrrh at fnhir). And I mil one of tlie nnw ! (live mo tU 
 Monv. iii-tiljcial charms. piirclKtsfil |K'rr»*(;lit)iis. (jtr/ro-foilrftr — in short. t;j 
 iliz.itioii. i do iiuL so(> why Ixmiilis ciiiiowtMl with iniinortiil souh sIk, 
 not repiii' the ravage;* of TiiiH! niih tlu' appliuici's oi'ait! {nsinni-i y 
 aelf-^'ihsfi'd.) 
 
 IJrvu. Vci-y \w\\u hiiL y«»nr ai'miment dops not manor with me. 
 
 .J\ric What does it m iLUm', any how ? Wliat does anythiny ma 
 {d'-tiih-s ) ;it't'M- (1 inner ] 
 
 Kai{. All iiur. your loMiirIvs aio atlieistical ! Eh! yes, yes. Allioi^J 
 cal! 'rh!*y rt^iuind nu? of the Wo ks of IJurko (siif//it jtftusr) anrl Mm 
 Tom I'-iinn, Voltau'e. ami o'licr pcisons beyond tlio .social pale. V* 
 yes ! .VrLhur, I have fonml a most atUactivo purii lor you -an licire.vs. | 
 
 Uraq. Oh, I don't want money. 
 
 Jack. Not w.uit money ! {spenlc^ <io animntolh) ihnt Faiji.ntosii j,v ,?';■ 
 tied) You c)u<jiit lo be j)lioloiirait'ie 1. The man who does not wa 
 money (MijiiL to bi» put in an albintj and kept there. 
 
 Far It is Miss Naomi Tiulic, a We>L Indian heiress, a young lady, 
 fortune, witliout father or ujoihcr. , 
 
 Jack- Without father or iiiother, especially no motiier ! It'sa gorgeod 
 tliini; mider suclj circinnsiano(«s. matrimony. But wi»y oiler lhi.s \.k> i\ 
 tliur \ .Vrthiu" don't want it, luit 1 do, 
 
 V \\\. Siie is stay in .J at a school close by, kept by an ohl college-cliiiij 
 of mitie : They are ij'>in^ lo liive a — an e.\amination soon, and that «1 
 be a capital occasion l'>" \.\\'\\ i yo:i over to see tlif heir.'ss — to — eh ' 
 see liie heiress — ii;i. h i ! ye>, yes ! Kh ] oh! Her guardian is one ^j 
 my ohiest friends. (All r/.^i?.) 
 
 Deal'. I don't care lo .see her, but I'll go with you. 
 
 Enter, L 'J k , Sr.ilVANTS, r^v before, to remove tnhle and seats. The three //J 
 tleinen lo the front, Jack sees to fits yun, ami goes up K. and ojf, n. 2 e| 
 leisurely 
 
 Far. Arthur, what is your friend rroing to do ? eh ? 
 
 Beat. Kill a biid wit'i a b'll.et. Oil ! iie'.s a wonderful sliot. 
 
 Enter, l. 12 e., Vauguan. 
 
 Vmi. VauLzlian ? ehl Vauilim? (VAj'tiUAN* co'n>n to hi in and off'(i\ 
 his arm) Tliat's riglit. Arthur, l)e punctual to dinin'r. Mucli plea.sd 
 Willi your friend. He. he ! singularly facetious ! ((joesup u , ajftcted sla\ 
 ping walk) Au revoir, my boy, au revoir. 
 
 [Exit on \ wciixs's arm, u. 2 E, 
 
 Beau, (alone). Make tlie acquaintance of a youniz lady, all bread aii^ 
 butier and boarding-.school ' Not if I know it ! True, in this case, i 
 moliier-in-law I No mother-in-law ! Oh ! no mother's gentle accents- 
 " Is this the place, sir, to which my daughter lias been beguiled froii 
 the fold ? Come home, my lamb, coua h<>me ! " By Jove, she mia 
 go home for me ! Then the female friends — always at her elbow, with sii; 
 gestions as to where your house is deficient in just what everybody el 
 makes it a specialtv to ])ossess ! Then horself — if you correct her, y< 
 are a mass of contradictions — and you are obstinate — that's when yo 
 do not let luM- have her own way. (rci'/g for shot, r. 2 e.) Then tin 
 WoiTy of quetM- sensations; there is always a pain somewhere — a fir 
 sinking or a swimmins, a floating or a dartimi. or a shooting -fs/;f)< f;i 
 R. 2 e7 Beaufoy turns up c. to lookup u. 2 k. Hiream of Bclla hhc/Nao 
 
aCI' i. 
 
 15 
 
 iv I Givp nift chl 
 effr — ill short, t] 
 iioitiil souls s||( 
 ill 1 1 (^>t'.ituint'i ,t I 
 
 or wiMi me. 
 uii}'Uiiij*j ina 
 
 es, yes. A(liPi<:j 
 
 jinnsr) and IIt| 
 
 !i»ci;il pul*'. V| 
 
 .•<m — an hoiieM,] 
 
 Kaiuntosii is sh 
 lio dues noL wa 
 
 , a young lady (\ 
 
 ' \ It's a gorjjeii 
 y oUer this to .\l 
 
 old colIpfTe-cliiifJ 
 oon, and thai «■' 
 rt'ss — lo — ell .' 
 uardian is one oi 
 
 /*. T/ie three on 
 1. ami of, R. 2 £J 
 
 ful shot. 
 
 him aud of at 
 
 Miicli plea.st'j 
 
 U , "Jfeetvd a/.(//| 
 
 \ arm, n. 2 R. 
 y, all bread aii( 
 in this case, i; 
 ;entlo accents- 
 
 beyuiled froi: 
 Jove, she mi si 
 elbow, will) siii: 
 
 everybody el? 
 
 orrect her, yoi 
 
 laL's when vi 
 
 |2 K.) Then "tin 
 
 pwhere — a flo; 
 
 O\\\\a~{shot ('l 
 GLLA WH^/NaoM 
 
 \lfr, n., proscenium e., Hkm.A, rrosshiij to exit l., proieenium b. In cross- 
 in;^, drops one shoe ojf at r. c, exit L, 
 
 |B'=!A17. {fomea down c). Ah ! ThrMi llieie is the brother ! the brotlier 
 ilie ;iii'l whom you are spootiiiin — panienlarly if she is hkt» him. The 
 Liii^lii will coiiK* upon you liiat lie niii^hl have been she — and s|u> niiyhL 
 )vf been he. No ! Lovcis a sp»'ci(>s t>t' lunacy, of which inarriaue is iht» 
 lai^li!. waisl-coat ' {m irirlJ.imj to and fro. (nnrhrsshne. loofis doicn) Whal's 
 lis? {tdkrs shoe vp) Ashoo! A Woman s sImh* I no! a child's shoe ? no! 
 fjijiTs shoe— a pietty lillle shoe. Il inii^l b jony to a pi«'ity liltle foot, 
 ](" Now, what could l)rin2 a yonnn ii''' •"''» llii" wood for the jiurpose 
 losiiiij her slioe 1 I wonder whom it belongs to 1 (looks u.) 1 should 
 ke to find out the owner, {fjoes up.) 
 \{Voiri' of Bkij.a, k). Numiiiy 1 
 '(roiff o/ Naomi, R.). Belial 
 
 ■ LLA runs to c , from l., proseeninm r.., Naomi runs to c, from u , pros. k. 
 
 I Naomi a}id Bklla. Oh ! {Ilietj einhmee, as if erh'insted hif running.) 
 
 LNaomi. Oh! my nailing 1 thought I should never kee you again. 
 
 |i;U horrid cow ! * 
 
 [iSkau. {iisvIi). They are both young girls, and not bad looking. 
 
 jliKL. 1 ihoULsht. 1 should have died. 
 Ukal'. {comes doun, S'dulcs). Ahem ! 
 
 INaomi (to IJklla). Tills is the cenlleman that shot the cow. 
 
 1)i:l. Oh, sir, many thanks. (lii:Ai-i'ov •>• confused, hides the shoe hehind 
 h:< k.) 
 
 J Naomi. Yes, sir, you saved our lives — accej)t o'lr thanks. I was pass- 
 L the lii'ld when I saw Bella. She saw me and I ran to meet her— — 
 JDi;l. When the gi-eai u:^Iy cowf ran after me • 
 
 Naomi. And you shot it ! 
 
 HiiAU. {inniizcd). I siiot it ? 
 
 Ijkl. And I ran away for fear of being trampled to death. 
 
 Naomi. Oh, sir, but for you we miuht have lost our lives. 
 
 BicAU. Are you sur^ you have not lost anything else? 
 
 Biol. No. 
 [Naomi {saddcnhj and quickbj lifts her hand to her hack hair. Innocently). 
 
 Unter, ii. 2 k., Jack. 
 
 Bfap. Ah ! I was in hopes that you had. Jack,-^ was that you fired 
 
 ist now? 
 
 Jatk. Yes. 
 
 Bkah. 'What have you got there ? Birds ? 
 
 .Iai'k {hidds up onrshocs). No, boots ! [conies do'cn c.)'| 
 
 1>KAU. (lood uracious nie ! does it rain boots about here? 
 
 Iai K As 1 was strolling aloii^. I saw\) two youiia uirls runninu away 
 
 •111 what the iiewsj)apeis call an '• infuriated animal.' I tired and 
 
 *ror omission of ,\(t II. aid horo : " Poor Mr. Krux, the bull tos.seil Iiiin as high 
 tlic trt'o.s I 1 h<)i)u Uo'U come down ajraiii I " 
 
 tlnsort lor omission of Act II., '-Who Witscbusinu'poor Mr. Knix, turnctlund " 
 
 :Ja(I£. Naomi. Bf.i.la. Bi;.\i.fov. 
 
 il :,AOMi. 
 
 Jack. 
 
 Beacfot. 
 
 Bella. 
 
 i i 
 
 
 i .mi 
 
 i 
 
 h For omission of Act TI . iuseit, •' That sulky fellow in the inky coat and- 
 

 16 
 
 snnooL. 
 
 down dropped tlio pnrsjior dead, out of coniplimonL to my shootinq, 
 Walked up to the .s<;iMie of sluu^litcr, and socuiod this booty. At ti 
 8i«lit 1 tliounliL llie) belonycd lo the defunct, but of course, Ihati 
 iiupossi-bull. 
 
 NA«»Mr Then, sir, it was you wlio shot the cow ? 
 
 Jack. Vc-as, 1 shot thn cow. the cow was a hull — but llial is a deijj 
 
 Naomi {ilihiihted). Vou, and not this jientlernan ? 
 
 Jack. 11 a bull is shot, what does it matter wiio shot him— particulJ 
 ly to the bull"? 
 
 Bkau. {('Side, repnrdimj Bklla). I wish I had shot him. ConfoiJ 
 Jack, what luck he always has. 
 
 Jack {hohh up orcnhois). And now to find an owner for these trophJ 
 from the field of war. 
 
 Bel. Oh ! they're mine. 
 
 Jack (amfizni.) ) ,. 
 rrificil.) ) 
 
 urs ! 
 
 ]>i;au. {_hoi\ 
 
 IJia. Ye.s, that is, [ was fetching them for Mrs. Sutcliffe. 
 
 liKAu. {((ikrs s/iots from Jack fo lunid (hem to Bella). Then {latig}\ 
 lighdi/) Mrs. Sutditlf's fof»t is — is rather large? 
 
 Ja(!,<. Mrs. Siilclille, who keeps the school Ijere ? 
 
 IVAo.Mr. Yes, wo nre her jiupiis. 
 
 Bi;i-LA. Not exactly. I am a pupil-teacher. 
 
 Beau. IIow irjieiesiins^ ! {holiis up shoes) If these are Mrs. SutclifliJ 
 this cannot be hers too f 
 
 BivL. Oh! that s niitie. (s/iou:', tip of font for a second.) 
 
 Beau, {^deivjhtcd). Yours I (Jack aud ^kosn exchange timid glancH\ 
 am so glad - lo restore it. 
 
 r>Ei,. Oil, thanks. I did not know I had lost it. I must have \i 
 rin)iiin<r away from the cow. (in inkiixj shoe, touches Beaufoy's ' 
 both sfiirliiif/ sli'ilitlg) Tliank you very much, {puts shoe on.) 
 
 Jack {to Naomij. May 1 know whom 1 have the pleasure of r 
 
 ins '■ 
 
 Naomi (hfrshfulbf). My name is Naomi Tighe. 
 
 Jack (nsidr). Naomi ! 
 
 Bkau. {to Hell a). And your name ? 
 
 Bel. Bella. 
 
 Bkau. Ah! • 
 
 Jack {medning NAom' a red petticeat). Ah! this is what attracted 
 bull. 
 
 Naomi. You mustn't look at m \ I can't bear to be looked at. 
 
 Jack. IIow sji i>ular ! {to U\-.avi\>\, irho looks out;/ at Bella) This isj 
 very young jjirl that your uncle was speaking of. 
 
 Beau, {htttcrl'n. Bo yun think her liandsomel 
 
 Jack. Not bad — lor an heiress! And the other? 
 
 Beau. ChaiiningI 
 
 Bki- You will please not leli Mrs. Sutcliffe anything about it — forj 
 is nervous and it miiiht do her harm. 
 
 Naomi. Here comes the school. 
 
 Beau, (to Jack.). Let tjs retire. 
 
 Jack. No. J^et »is stop and see them fake their gallop. 
 
 Enter, l. 2 e , nl! the Si iiool Girl'<, crossing i:t exit, R. 2 K.,/o//osiY(fl 
 I)r and Mrs Sutcliffk. Naomi and Bella follow them oJ-'R.if 
 Bella going with dou-n-e/isf ii/es until she reaches the entrance, u:\ 
 she suddenl;/ turns to see Uewfoy. but perceivitig that he is loohiii^ 
 her, she dnps her ri/cs ami <.rits m. 2 E. Enter, l 2 E., Krux,*/o 
 
Acr H. 
 
 17 
 
 ) nij' shootint!. I 
 booty. At fi-j 
 f comae, tliati 
 
 ut tlial is a deij 
 
 >thiin— particiil, 
 
 t him. CotifoiJ 
 
 for these tiophj 
 
 iliflb. 
 
 a). Then {laugk 
 
 re Mrs. Sutclifll 
 
 t}(fe itmiii fflauciil 
 
 I must lmv( V^ 
 Bkaufuy's 
 on.) 
 
 ;asure of •' 
 
 Ithfre to scowl a Bbaufov. Ukai'Foy follows, step for ttep, Bblla, ttlt 
 \ht reachet the 'Id <jroove$, whne hv xtop.t, loo/art^ eaijeriy ajter Bella. 
 
 SLOW Cl'KTAIN. 
 
 t 
 
 Chauije of TiihUdu for Encore. 
 
 *vfr Beaufot in 2 e.. at H. c , //"/ r>f, hokmg R, ; Jack bendin;; for- 
 Iwanl on riylU leg, bent luUf-lcnieliny, Iwktwj^ wUU his hand shidUotg ht$ 
 [tt^ts, ofR. 2 E. KttUX li of. 
 
 QUICK CUUTAIN. 
 
 Lapse of Enjht Ihitjs. 
 
 If.— Tlio T\ hole of Act II. cim bo lott out in case of need, as for a Roneflt nijfht 
 I., r (;;i»Hf. It will miToly li;iv(« to bo iuUIl'<1 that Mtt Kitrx w.ts iittin kcil by 
 111. wliicli rai' iit BiCLi.v iiril N \omi lie will then tiitii ;if the tml ot .Vet I., 
 t. lilt crinlii'il, t'tc. Mr.i,i.\ will jritcr ami ho will ouhr \\vv lu lnush hiiu otf 
 [iiuiltul uf loaves, Si;o will rotti«c, usjujf tlif buaiuw.t!, uud wuida ot clyac ol 
 U. I'ictiuo with all m. 
 
 Gmils. • 
 
 * ♦ * * *r)R S. 
 
 Bead* *.Mrs. S. 
 
 Jack.* Kuux.* *Bella. *NAOiii. 
 
 riiat attracted 
 
 ooked at. 
 ?f,lla) This is 
 
 about it— for 
 
 op. 
 
 . 2 F.., followed 
 <iv them off R.i 
 the entrance, «i 
 hat he ts lookm 
 
 .' r II. 
 
 SCENE. — Sr/inol-ronin in Zil grooves. 
 
 wer Bklla, seated, up U., hi/ window facinq n., with htsket of peat in 
 i in her lap, putting the shelled peas on the tn/ile before her tnto bowl, 
 
 EL {iings). ''Tiieie is no one I Iovl' but tlifP." 
 
 Enter, r []■ u , to lean in at wtuUoWf Naomi. 
 
 EL. Nummy ! 
 
 AoMi. What are you doing, Bella!' 
 KL. SlielUniT peas. 
 AiiMi. What else 'f 
 KL. Thinking. 
 
 Ao.Mi. Tliiiikinfj of tlie over-shoes? 
 i;i,. Only a littk^, only a little. All ! (sighs.) 
 
 viiMi. I have been (Ireainiiisr all night long, and W( ke up feeling 
 ' liy.sterical. 1 have been trying to walk it oH'in tlie shrubbery, but 
 10 use> 
 
 KL. I don't know that we are old enough to think of such things. 
 .\o.Mt. Tin eighteen. How old are you 1 
 KL. I don't know. 
 
 AOMi. I knew two girls who where married wlien they were nineteen— 
 people have .such luck ! How's thi.s 1 you are not dressed fur the 
 pauy's coming 1 
 
 T'- 
 
 *• 
 
 f 
 
 \l 
 
18 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 Ill ! 'i 
 
 Bel. I have got my Sunday s fiock on. 
 Naomi. Now, you know you can liave anything you want of mi; 
 {rcprodc/i/nili/, cuts peas ) 
 
 liiCL. WliaL are you (i()in;j! ] Oh. Uipy are not nice. 
 
 Naomi. Ve.s, they are — when nobody is looking. Oh 1 [ExU^ k. d. j. 
 
 Enter u. d., Mrs. Sctclikfe. 
 
 Mrs. S. Wiiat are you doing there, Bella 1 
 
 Bel. Sliellini4 peas, ina'ani. 
 
 jSlus. S Shelling peas in the schoolroom 7 
 
 Bel. They are so crowded in tlie kitchen. But I can take them awj 
 again, (prepares to remove boul atid basket.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {comes doan r. c. a little). It. is nearly time for Mi. FarintJ 
 nnil his friends to be here. 1 bhould like to inspect the school hej 
 Where are.^he young ladies ? 
 
 Bel. {risis). If you please, here are the young ladies, {hands off', 
 bowl and basket at u. L».) 
 
 Enter. K , n.. School Glia.s com>ug down r., nttd across front to take plncn\ 
 Mrs. S. at c , fxainiiHS cueh icitk her ei/e-i/l iss up, stoppuKj ant/ iv/iosc 
 praranee is not lo her tustc. Each curtsey hjore her u)tdjust afttr in 
 have passed her. 
 
 Wkvty enters R. D., and comes dotcn. Mrs. S. stops her. 
 
 Mrs. S. We have a question to put to you, my dear; what are yj 
 
 gonig to answer .' 
 
 Hex. {all in a breath). They cut. ofT liis head and put liim in prison] 
 Mrs. S. They put him in pri'-nn and cut otf his head. That will 
 
 very nicely, indeed. (Hetty yors l. to her place, muitcay of back row 
 
 desks. ) 
 
 Enter, r. d,, coming dotrn same as others, Naomi. 
 
 Mrs. S. Miss Tiiihe, you have been crying. 
 , Naomi. No, I have not ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Eh \ [stm-iUd) Vou should say, "yon are mistaken." 
 
 Naomi. So you are ' (goes to seat h., front desk, front end) 
 
 Til. {^next to Naomi) Ciying! In tears] 
 
 Mil. ( front eml of burl: de.sk). Tears, of course. She couldn't cry ( 
 cumbers, could she? (Naomi turns to have a wrangle with her. Jiasiu 
 — Some girls are eating cake on the sly, others reading books, drawing 
 slates, etc.) 
 
 Nao.mi {to Milly). Mind your own business ! 
 
 Enter, r n., sleepily, Laura, coming down r. 
 
 Mil 
 
 Nam 
 
 >AU 
 
 Til. 
 Nai>: 
 Uru. 
 Mks. 
 
 titer, I 
 
 Bead 
 
 Jack 
 Du. 
 V. {us 
 Dr. 8 
 Nao.m 
 Fa It. 
 • e.i? 
 Dr. S 
 Far. 
 
 U'llllt' lo 
 V chat 
 ',s. I ha 
 T. and 
 
 <! lioiio 
 
 Ukau. 
 
 .Iack. 
 
 Far. ] 
 
 ])u. S. 
 
 Far. ] 
 . ''livil 
 
 ba. u. 
 
 Mrs. ^ 
 
 Far. ( 
 s, wher 
 
 Dfj S. 
 
 .Mrs. g 
 
 15 KL. I 
 
 Jack ( 
 lit' old 
 Bkad. 
 iiiples \ 
 Dk. S. 
 
 Mrs. S. Laura ! last asain ! 
 
 Laura {yatcn.s and pats her hand lazily up to her mouth, languidk 
 Somebody must he la^t, I suppose! {goes to sicond seat in hick fow. /iMBklla. 
 frout end, and ts sleepy, elbow on desk, etc.) \E.eif Bella, r. nw "« his 
 
 Mrs S. {faeis girls). Young ladies, lli'" i is be merely a preliminaBi^lKS. S 
 examination, serving as practice to the oi,e inleinled lo be iield iluiiBH you \ 
 
 • he month. Mr. Percy Farintosli. a friend of the Doctor's, has done" 
 
 ♦ he honor to be accompanied by his nephew, my Lord Beaufoy, 
 owner of half a coinity. 
 
 Naomj {quickly). Which halt? 
 
ACT I. 
 
 l;i 
 
 Miii- ('i'ltckly). And wiiicli couiiiy 1 
 
 Kaomi. I^ lie a real lord? 
 
 Mks. ."5. A real lord ? ut course, my child. 
 
 >AoMi. But a rttil real lord { 
 
 Til. {<isi(h' to (he (jiuls). 1 wonder wLal a lord is like 1 
 
 .Naomi Fle^ll aii«l l)i«)t)d like any other luan. 
 
 iMiL. C'nly more • blood. ' \^btU, o/^ R.) 
 
 iMicb. Si. tJilence in Llie class. Here is ihe comi)auy. 
 
 * ,1 
 
 1 lake them av 
 
 ,es. (Jiauds off ; 
 
 f«/?r, B. D., Jack, Beaufoy, Farintosh and Doctor. Naomi tries to 
 attruel Jack s «itu Ukalfoys attention. 
 
 Bkat. (/o Jack). That's the 
 
 Jack. 
 
 The one that hud the 
 
 cow young lady, 
 allack ot bullock 
 
 Dii. S. {to Mas. S.). My love, allow me to present to you Lord Beau- 
 [)v. [usual salutes ej:chan//<(/. GiiiLS u/iispo) That s Lord iieaufoy. 
 
 '[)R. S. Mr. Percy 1 arintosh. And Mr. I'oyiUz. 
 
 Nao.mi {qi'icUi/, aside). I'oyn'z ! Poyiit/. ! {units it on her slate.) 
 
 Fab. {to Da. tJ. ). Might 1 take the liberty to addte.ss a few words — 
 e.i ] Ves, yes. (Jack uud Beaufoy, k. c, Mdud.) 
 
 Dr. S. With jileasure. 
 
 Far. {goes l. c, a/e-fjloss in plnij, rims aUmp up and doun front of desks, 
 I ihlc to distinguish the GiRl.s). DeliiiliU'ul. delghttul. (Ja( K cud Beai;- 
 
 iv chut nitk Mu.«;. S and Da. S., lookimj round) My dear youn;.; la<iif>! 
 
 > ilianks to the kind pel mission of my old and endeared friends, the 
 I. and Mis. SutcliHe, thac 1 am emboldened to express my thanks for 
 [le honor of paiticipatinjj in this— this 
 
 Beau. Inspection — ? 
 
 ack. Review 1 
 [Fak. Yes, yes. In this inspection, review — eh, eh 7 
 I Dii. kS. K.Xiiminaiioi!. 
 
 Far. Kxactly. In tiiis examination. I regard it as one of theproud- 
 
 ife 
 
 "■rivileyes ol my iii_ 
 
 hii. vj. '^ '"les Fauintosh's hand). My dear friend. 
 .Mr.s. S. {takes r AKiNTosn's hand). Dear Mr. Faiintosh. 
 Far. {resu.nes speeeh) 1 fed like one who .-lands in a parterre of flow- 
 s. where the colors are audible and tlie perfume is — is visible. 
 Dr S. Very graceful. 
 .Mr.s. S. ISo poetical. 
 Hkl. Like Ton) Moore. 
 
 Ja(k {aside). Broken-winded, (/o Beaufoy, >Hf'(f/<i«y Miis. Sutcliffe) 
 iiic old girl, that. 
 
 Bi: AU. {to Jack). The girls are not so pretty as 1 expected by the 
 iiiples we have seen. 
 Dk. S. How is that, Bella is not in ber place "^ {uneasy.') 
 
 Enter, k. d., coming down n. , tiniidly, Bella. 
 
 Bi:lla. I am here, sir. (Beaufoy rn-ounizis her ivith pleasure, half turn- 
 y ui his ehair.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {after whispering uith Du. S., to Faki.ntosu). Mr. Farintosh, 
 ill you permit me to iiiCodnce to vuu .Miss Tiglio 1 
 
 •*Mi!S. !^. 
 
 • IM\.. S 
 
 • 1- AU. 
 
 " JU:au. 
 
 ■ icalcd. 
 
 ••Jack. 
 
 
 
i 
 
 s 
 
 ■■I 
 
 20 
 
 scuooi,. 
 
 Far. (rises). Ti^jhe— Tiylio ! \ps, ye-.i. (runs dmvn c., and turnittg jl 
 takes Bella by the hand) My dear Miss Ti;^lie. most happy. I am verri 
 well known to your guardian — very well known. 
 
 Mrs. S. I beg panloii, Mr. Faiinto.sh. {comes Uown c. ani looks /f-frrelA 
 at Bklla, who IS confused) is That not Mis.s Tighe. Bella, Low con: 
 yon .' 
 
 Dr. S. {comes down r, o., nnd takes Brlla'.s hand, to prevent Mrs. .>-] 
 sending her ant of the room). Genllemen, this is our best pupil. Bella, in 
 child, yo lake yonr accusl'Hne 1 j> a;-* at tiie ln^ad oi" ihe cla.ss. 
 
 Jack {almost claps his h'lnds. Bli.\UFoY is pleased, and tvhispers to lh\ 
 S., who nods. Mas. S. resumes her scat, disgusted. Bella seated upper eiM\ 
 front desk.) 
 
 Nao.mi {forgets herself, raps on table, half aside). Bravo! (All /oc/A sJ 
 N.\oMi, wJio pretend-i it tvis not she who .<:po'u'.) 
 
 BiiAU. (/o Far). Attractive yirls, nnc e 7 
 
 Far. Deliiihiful, de-lii^ht-ful 1 (asile) Can't distinfjui.sh a feature ! 
 
 Dr. S. Hem I {raps on d sk for silmee) We will besin with Ancieinl 
 History — hem, Ancietit Histoiy ! (Farixtosii throws up one leg on tA 
 other and nurses it. Beal'Koy looks at Bella. Jack exchanc/es sale gl'imif 
 With N'.\o.M[.) 
 
 .Mijs. S. Doctor, as wo are rallnr late, ami tluMlinner will bepunctuaiJ 
 perhaps it, may bj as well to condense as mncli as possible this pie-l 
 liminary examination. 
 
 Dr. S. Very well, my dear Jnst what [ was about to do. {aloud) Wei 
 will bi^izin with llonian History, {faint charkl-) Roman History. (TilliI 
 rises) Undei- whatditie.ent forms were the Rnnans sovcriiMl ? 
 
 Til. First there Wi're the Dictators or Kin^s, then the ('onsuis, tlieii| 
 the Triumvirate, th'n the Dn'^Jibiiii— (.«//* cont'wrd ) 
 
 Kar Wonrle ful I (Mrs .S tiu-as to hnix smding, silf -satisfied. ) 
 
 Dr. S. t'" "<'•'■'' <»iRL). .Vlter iiomnlus had become the ruler, did hej 
 not form a species of private araiy ? ■ 
 
 Girl {rises). There were tiireo liuudred young men who attended bin 
 oil all occasions, {sits.) 
 
 BiiAU. {asi ie to Jack). A sort of Li f.»- guards. 
 
 Jack {to Beau). Without boots or breeches ! 
 
 Beau. Cool to fight in. 
 
 Jack {same). And convenient in fording rivers. 
 
 Dr. S. {to ne.i-( Girl). In the reign of what King was it that Belisariu 
 fought ? 
 
 Girl. In the leign of Justinian. \eir 06!. 
 
 Dr. S. {to ne.rf CnuL). Who was Belisaiius ? 
 
 <liRL, A famous general, who coiuiuered large territories for his cour.^ 
 iiy. 
 
 Du. S. Mention how he was lewarded] 
 
 Laura {sleepib/). They deprived liim of his dignities, (MiLLV/;oJw/i/ 
 hr eyes) and put his eyes out ! 
 
 Jack. That must have been done by a committee of the period. 
 
 Bead. Hence originat<^il the practice of " going it blind." (Farintosij 
 IS greallif amused b;/ th" Gikl s ans rer.) 
 
 Du S W»> will now iiiv • our attention to Englisli liistory. {turns n\ 
 To English History. Hem! In what gn.rmeiils were the ancient Druiii 
 clothed I {.some of the (iiUL.s titter and then look prrternitarallu soleini 
 Beaukoy //;/rf Jack exchange smUes. .Mrs. S. touches Dk. S 's arm meni{ 
 iuglij) No ! that is not e.xacily what I niean^to say. No, no, no! Wlii 
 1 did mean to say was, wlien was the ceremony of marriage first soleiiicj 
 ized in churches? 
 
 All {theQt\iMi% rite). In the reigu of Iletiry the TliirU. {ait.) 
 
ACT ir. 
 
 21 
 
 ! (AiiL look sil 
 
 that Belisariu 
 
 ;s for hia coud 
 
 MiLLY pointi 
 
 BEAr. {aside to Jack). They all know that. 
 
 Jack {name). And all single girls, too! Frightful! But how the 
 
 rcj)ruc qui m/inbus tliey renieiuber it all, I can't understand. 
 
 Ukal'. It sail a cian». 
 
 l)ii. S. By whom weie the Britons conquerod ^ 
 
 Naomi. Tlioy never were conquered. They would sooner die first! 
 s/,;.,« l/ii: t'lhlc.) 
 
 Jack. A girl of spirit. (Farintosii is dcUghtcd, and Beaufot has to hold 
 
 ,,,! ill urn from (jomg l ) 
 
 1)K. S. in whobe reign was the American Declaration of Independence 
 la ie ] 
 
 Mil. In therei-n of .July the Fourth ' (.Vll Intgh. Fari.ntosh rmhfn to 
 
 ., to slmke Milly s hand, but Bkaufoy follows and brings him biick to 
 'i,y'ittr pl'ice.) 
 
 Di:t- {rises). In the reign of George the Third, {sits.) 
 
 Du. S. Naiue the principal leader, general and prime spirit of that re- 
 oliion. 
 
 fiiRL {rises). Oliver Cromwell. 
 
 CiUiL {rises). George Wa-Iiington ! 
 
 I»u. S. Stale what resulted to him 7 
 
 II KT. {stands vponchi.ir). They cut ofThis liead and put him in the dark 
 ooni, where lie was fed ou bread and water till he i)iomised to be good ! 
 .((,'*■ dow». Fauixtosii n<sh''s across as before, andis brought back iy Bkap- 
 I'V. After sitting, he is about to get up once or ttvice again, unable to repress 
 i< (iiiinxonenf. General laughter. ) 
 
 Ini S. {cnughs, and sponges his face tcith handkerchief). We will now 
 iiect our attention to— to asironiony. Astromony, gentlemen. How 
 u is the moon from the earth 1 
 
 Naomi {looking at Jack; inattcntivelg). It depends upon the weather! 
 inks) ;\h! 
 
 Du. S. Bella, my dear ? 
 
 Wv.h {rises). Tlie mean distance of the moon from the earth is 236,- 
 47 miles. 
 
 Fau Good gracious ! (ege-glass up to admire Bklla.) * 
 
 lii; S. { pleased). 1 told you Bella was our best pupil. What is the 
 iiiiueier of the moon. 
 
 I>i:l. The apparent diameter of the moon varies, but her reaJ diara- 
 ler is 2.14-1 miles. 
 
 Fau. Immense! 
 
 Naomi (^o Tilly). Why do they call tlie moon her*? 
 
 Til. Because she is a lady. 
 
 Naomi. Why a lady ? 
 
 Mil. Because she has a sun. 
 
 Naiwmi. Then the iiioi • sliame for her to be out so late o' nights. 
 
 .Mil. But consider her age. 
 
 I'K. S. (to Bella) And what is her magnitude 7 
 
 hi-.L. About one-fiflh of that of the earth, (sits.) 
 
 Fau. Stupendous! im-men.se I Tlie asiionomical knowledge. of that 
 ouiig ?4dy is perfectly fabulous— yes, yes, fabulous. 
 
 Enter, n. n., Kuu.x, coming to Mrs. S. 
 
 Krl'x (rrbispers to Mrs. S.). The dinner is ready, ma'am. The ser- 
 !it did Tiot like to ooine up to inform y<)U. 
 
 Mrs. S. My (h'ar Doctor, we will not proceed any further at present. 
 le mu.->ical portion of the exainiiia'ion will take place in the drawing- 
 Join after diuner. (Gibls rise) .Mr Krux, {whispern to Krux) Mr. Farin- 
 
 \(t 
 
IT 
 
 I 
 
 I I 
 
 Vi 
 
 ! B 
 
 22 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 tosh's friend h.avin<T bronrrht a fripnd, i!ure will be one more at labj 
 than wo expected lliere would be, so tli.iL if you would not mind— . 
 {smiCcfi. ) 
 
 Knvx {aside). I see. {aloud, cringmgly) Oh, don't mind me ! I am ■! 
 
 no COMSO'llUMlCP. 
 
 .Mks. S. (Jii, I know how rrnod you are! {to Gikls) So, until afie;j 
 diiintM-, VDii will lesuuic yuur .studies. 
 Fau. (Jiiarniing. 
 
 Beaufoy looks at Bklla. Farintoph (livm Jus < rm to Mrs. S. and exvl 
 with her, R. n., /ass >/(/ Ins /nn/d to the CJlULs. .Jack tnul Dr. S. ixeuiA 
 same. Du. S. tntrlns liKAfFoY, nho rouses himself from looking A 
 Bl^LLA, R. Oh! (tnd exila 11. D. * 
 
 Mil. I am so j^lad they are jzone. 
 
 Til. So am I. (Girls /"»/7//, t(dk, e.rcln)ifje hooks noisily) 
 
 Krux. Tiiey will tiine without me. And such a jiood dinner, too. 
 had kept my appciitp. {/dotid) Silence, ladies ! {Girls laugh.) 
 
 Naomi (lnr>/s to Milly). Shc'.s (rot my slate-pencil. 
 
 Mil. I liain t ! 
 
 Naomi. You have! 
 
 Mil. {quirkl!/'). I hain't, hain't, hain't ! 
 
 Krux. Silence ! do you hear.'' Miss Laura, take your elbows off Ih 
 table. Heads up ! If you cannot keep your eyes open in daylight, yoj 
 had better can y your head to the {)ump, 
 
 Naomi. To which pump ? {All Imu/h.) 
 
 Krux. {tiems to go up c, shotes his c/i/dkcd beck. All laugh.) 
 
 jMil. Ila, ha! he's been powdering himself for dinner. 
 
 Til. No, it's flour, lies been kis.sing the cook. 
 
 Naomi. I ])ity ihe cook ! 
 
 Krux. Are you all mad 1 (scotch) Do you .see anything in me to laujl 
 at ! {sees chalk, siKirliin.hi) Who pul tli.it on '\ (rt'lls) Bella, i^o and get iJ 
 a brush ! U») you not hear me 1 (Bi:lla rises, slouii/, piiiifniiy, hij an ej'om 
 Bring me a brush ! (Bklla sloulg croises and exits n. n , ashamed, GiBiT 
 mivmur.) 
 
 Kkux. Silence! What's the heisht of the Chimborazo mountains? 
 
 Tilly. Four hundred miles — 1 mean four hundred yards i {sits.) 
 
 .Krux {to Naomi). Ib)W high are the Chimborazo mountains. 
 
 Naomi. I don't know. 
 
 Krux. Then you mu.st learn. 
 
 Naomi. 1 can't learn, {sits, aside) I could cry ray eyes out to be at dij 
 ner with him ! 
 
 Enter, n. n., with brush in hand, Bella, coming down to l. c.'* 
 
 Krux. Ah ! there you are. Bella, come, brush me. 
 Bklla (s'oivhj lays brush on disk). I can t do that. 
 Girls. What a shame ! 
 
 Krux. Silence ! Don't you know wlio you are 1 
 Bkll.\. I ;im not a servant ! » 
 
 Kki'x. Vou can shell peis — then, why not brush coats 1 {thumbs inr\ 
 arni/ifil'S, hnuyhti/y) i)o you know ir/io I mu / 
 
 Naomi {rises). Y«)u aie a b.'asst ! Bella is here to teach ladies and 
 
 •Krux. 
 c. 
 
 Bf.li..^. 
 L. c. 
 
 iJAOMI. 
 
 MlLLY. 
 
ii «- 1 1 > 1 . 
 
 23 
 
 out to be at (!ii 
 
 hniHli blacksnards ! Girls, don'i let, ns put up with hia imi>i dence ! 
 uH the Girls seize slates and books, awl KuL'X puts up his arms, coica iny, to 
 .1,1(1 his face.) 
 
 Enter, r. d., Dk. and Mrs SuTciiiFFE. Picture, 
 
 Dr. S.* *Mrs. S. up R. 
 
 GtULS. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Bella. * 
 
 ♦ 
 
 ^ Krdx.* *Naomi. *Millt. 
 
 curtain slow. 
 
 huge of Tablein for Encore. S'tme except Dr S. has eoine dotvti to R, c, 
 and drawn Bella to hiin, his arm round her fat her It/, 
 
 CURTAIN. • 
 
 n 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 [pie of Two TTows. Gnrdenx in Ath grooves. Gas down. Moonlifjht 
 ready, R. u. E., disrorer Bkal'koy o)i s/ool, r. c, burud in thoityht, 
 facing R. Tiano, Innli/ tune plained ojf R., at intervals. 
 
 >i AU. {drramilt/). By J*>ve, this is an awfully pretty |tlac8? rustic, 
 >'ly, full of setouity ami all the rest of i . Alii oveiytliiiiLr is so «lif- 
 ciil fiotu wiiit it is in tiio city. Wli.it aio larue cities, ufier ;ill, lint 
 ;;.):n:M-aLit)us of bricks ami uiorlar .' While llie counliy is luiule up of 
 autl llowers, (husitifmy bet wen each word) aud fruit,, and l)Uils, 
 l—ihng pause) inushroouis, aud truffles — tridlles, uud — all tliat sort of 
 114 ! The shootiu!4 is be;u':\ too, iu tlie country! That dinner was 
 ill' awfully jjoo I ! So, it is eifjht liuti<lre<l— eiizlit luuidied and s<)in(>- 
 II,' uiiles t<) the moon — I forget the odd hiunlredsaud thousands. Ali ! 
 •<) .\ siiiiiular liitle trirl that I {walks about Icisurcbj) Fresh as nature 
 
 h , (/iii-din-hi'd) and innocent as — luoss. I wonder who she is .' t^he's 
 lillerent from the— hem ! persons one sees at Paris an<l Vierwia, and 
 
 !' ■luenilous tiizer lilies one tneets in town. <>h, sini|>licity ! sweet, 
 .uiiciiv. how shockintily you aie iieulecled in this I'.Uh century ' She 
 I'l seem to bo a pujul like the other younu ladies. I dont think 
 I'll of that Miss Naomi Tiiihe— ah I uncle will he awfully disappointed 
 liii there, {ferls in pockrt) Oil! Jack has irot. my ciiiar-case. I'll go 
 I him. (loR., proscini'nn r.., nrari*/ runs "gainst Hkli.x.) 
 
 Bki-la eafrr- n., proscenium K., Jug in hand. 
 ?KL. Oh! 
 
 ii;AU. I be2 vou" pardon (s"lafei.) 
 
 KL. Ah ' you nearly made me drop tbeju;,'. {evmcca great ncrvoutneis 
 III the hands) 
 \r\v. I am so .sorry. 
 Jel. Oh! it is of no consequence, (to l. c.) 
 
 ^ <^t 
 
 I 
 
24 
 
 SCUOOL. 
 
 Brap. (c). Mny I ask wlie:e you ar<» goino ? 
 
 IJfi,. Cook used inoio inilk iliaii she expecteil for dinner, and T- 
 
 IJkau. Are izoiri:: I'o;' iiMrc. And were \mii not aiVaid to go alone'! 
 
 Bkl. Afraid ? ll is only across the iii".; i<>\v. 
 
 IJicAU. I tliouulil they l.ad tlie tnilk ihok? convenient in the coiintr 
 cai lied it ahoul in cow.s, No, no, 1 don't mean that! {ir.ugha confm 
 I niean, 1 tlion^lit they kept it on tlie pieniises — drew it up in a hut 
 out of tlie \v<'il. 
 
 Bi:l. Milk out of a well 1 
 
 Bkap. Oil, no! tiiai's water. To be sure, waier. {laughs) ButtlieJ 
 
 , things do {Tt»t mistaken for one another, and mixed up sometimes. M 
 
 barrnsscd) But why did they not send one of the servants.' 
 
 Bkl. Oil, they are al! so busy, and I was doinii nothin;^. 
 
 Beait. Ah ! you find it ijuusiny.' 
 
 Bkl. {fiinthi). No, my lord, I am not a {)upil here. 
 
 l4j<:AU. Not a pupil ? 
 
 Brl. No. iny ionl. Mrs. SutclifTo took me in here out of charity. 
 
 BiCAU. (iifts liiK hfii). (J-d ble.ss Mrs. SutcliU'e I 
 
 \iv.h. And to ]>Iease the i)»retor. 
 
 JiKAU, {lifts hdt). T ftiean (lod bless the Doctor. 
 
 Bkl. They are Ik)i1mii<'<' il an kind to me, and I owe everything! 
 have in the worM to ili<.",n 
 
 Brau. Do your father and mother approve of this? 
 
 Brl. Alas! I have no fatlier or mollicr. 
 
 Bi:au. An orphan ? 
 
 Bkl. Yes. 
 
 1^1 AU. Ah ! what an interestinir uirl ! 
 
 Bkl. I never knew niy fa: her. My mother died in the village closeil 
 wlien I was youn<(. Mrs. Maish, a uood woman of the place, took 
 and hrouiiht njo u|>. 
 
 Bkau. Does she live 1 
 
 Bkl. No ! Mrs. Marsh died wlien I was eight years old. 
 
 BK^L^ Confound the gjood people— they always die. I suppose it| 
 to UL'ike room for the bad one.^. 
 
 BicLL. That was my fiist sorrow. Then I came here. 
 
 Bkait. You are an excellent scholar. 
 
 Bi;l. I liave trird hartl to learn, so that I shall not be a burden to 
 one when I j^row up 
 
 Brau. You niusi have some favoiite among; the school girls ? 
 
 Bkl. (until s ami lit r face hrii/h/ms). Yes, Niiuuny ! 
 Bkau. " Nunnny ! " Wiial a singula'- name. 
 
 The Mooulitjht is gradually Irt cjj. ^rxf up high, L. 2 R., and graditaUg to en\ 
 
 tvlioli' ot' 'Id and '->d K.'.-i. 
 
 Tlie best girl in school. 
 
 a. < 
 
 \f 
 
 ,i.. ■ 
 |h;AL'. 
 
 II w 
 
 KUiat 
 
 tr<i 
 
 I. 
 |i \r. 
 
 'i. I 
 
 ^1 
 
 (1 
 
 i;irl('' 
 in.. i<'^ 
 ■rful 
 |i;.\L'. A 
 
 : 1.. 1 .. 
 
 -..u- N 
 
 know 
 
 livi.lel 
 
 .... U<' 
 
 W 1/ 
 
 h/i ijrout 
 
 Ihi-d i 
 
 Brl. Oh. I mean Naomi — Mi.->s Titrh*^. Tlie best girl in school. Bieny to 
 Bkait. She is rich ? totiethe 
 
 Bkl. Yes, and she is as good as she i.s rich. So only fnncy how mm ^^ into 
 money she must have? She, too. i.-> an orphan. IVrhaps th.'^t is there ila.^h 
 son why we have such a liking for one an<>iher. l-'or.we are very dift« iil^v ba 
 ent in some thiiigs, sii(> js veiy rich «nd I — {pause) am not. ! ' " 
 
 Bkait. Not rich I (I'sdi) U*\\ these great natures niisunderslar "t'd to 
 theni^^elves. 
 
 Bkl. Oh ! I have qnit.o foraotien my errand. 
 
 Bkau. Never mind ii Let the tnilk get iisfif. T mean, is it far fm 
 here to the moon ? No, 1 don t mean — I meant ia it far ti» go for ti 
 
ACT 111. 
 
 25 
 
 nner, and T- 
 id to go alone i 
 
 t in ».lie count' 
 
 it up ill a liijc 
 
 ughs') But the; 
 ) sometimes. (J 
 nts ' 
 
 iin;,'. 
 
 at of charity. 
 
 we everything! 
 
 f.i. Only across tlie Hold, 
 
 sv. Tiiiiis a i)ity ! All ! may I so with you ? 
 Mv lonl. iiN so n)ii<li lioiibN' !^ 
 
 vc. <'!'• <lf*iii'- !'*>' '"'*' "''"^ aWoiit li«M(» is so jiure tlmt it h n j>lf>a- 
 
 ';,» walk \vitti it. ( j/rn'n'rcs /lis )nislit/,e.r/>iickli/\ 1 nii'an {.snttits con/us- 
 |\\liai a lovely iiiulit 1 iii»' uiuoii is so briglii ! How far did you say 
 i> lioiu tltis daii< spot to the nioou i 
 
 I. lio»j,847 miles 
 |i At.'. Thai's a j-reat way oil". 
 
 L (jihnjfttUji). Isn't it kind of the moon to shine down upon us 
 
 Mioli a distance ? 
 
 Af. N't. '11 all I liie erass is so soft and pleasant, that tlie muun 
 
 1 no! help herself. Will you let me cairy the Juu 1 
 
 ;, Uii, niy lord, so mueli trouble 
 
 M'. Oh. dear, no ! 1 should like il above everything. (/^Ava ^»j?) 
 
 ' ou allow me to otter you my arm 1 
 
 ;, I don't like to 
 
 \L'. Voii sh'Mi.d hot concfive dislikes so suddenly. 
 
 : (ih. it i-i ii"i liial, but— {7W/ii. sofH;/, sfrt/o's nine. Bella on 
 Irrov's ariji */o//.s /ma up c. 'fh(>/ look at t/nir shudow ) 
 
 • . What long shadows the moon casts. 'J liere I am. 
 
 w. Aiid there I am. 
 
 !.. So tall, so hiijh. 
 !•, 8o are you. 
 r.iii not so tali as you. 
 
 .;■. Vet you aie nearer the skies! See! {nions a little aside) we 
 luiriod a^ain. 
 
 I.. (f/'])s to Bratfoy's side). And now we are joined together. 
 (I'lt'ul tlnniis. shadows ; are they not? 
 y.xv. And j)leasaiit. when they lie he/ore us. 
 
 KL. I ol'ten wonder what they are made of, and what they mean 1 
 ;:.\f No one knows, except poets —and painlers — and — /«r< ;•.« — and 
 
 know everything; and wiiat they do not know they t'eel. See, we 
 hviile 1 again. 
 
 I,, {hiia tonrhcd the jug icith hr hand) Nay, the ju'i unites us. 
 
 kv \tin!n-lijbHtS'iiUii). Only for thiMiio nent. (Ir'ds her up tit d., 
 
 'i <iiily for tlie moment. (<'.<// iri'li l<t:r.i,.v mi Jiisurin n., in stl Jiut in 
 \lh (jrooves.) 
 
 rr, K.. proscenium k., smoking ngi-r. Jack Poyxtz. in ftitigue-rap onl 
 \sul'licr\t orerco'tf, Crosnes, seats himself in siriihj, L., and sluulij swings 
 JiiiHS'lf. Piono heaid off it., as biforr. 
 
 VK. Jolly nice tiirls. these. That Miss Tighe is a girl of spirit — 
 
 lifd into that infernal tt-acluM" like a i;ood 'nn, (piile light, too! }>jic 
 
 lietiy too I I Wonder if she is clev er ? The two things don't ofli'ii 
 
 together. When nature makes u I'H-iry woman sin? puis nil the 
 
 into the slion-wind<»w. 1 Icel as .sii:inue in such a (piiet letit^at 
 
 (Ia.->h of biaiidv in a glass of milk. My short stay in tln>se female 
 
 |nt;y barrack.s u akos me fetd like jioiag to cliuich when a fellow isn't 
 
 1 > it ^S'hat's the (piotation .' Ah! tiiey who came to court, re- 
 
 ifd lo pray." 
 
 ti\ K. 8 E. , v'i'h hir hands held up ovir hi'ad, with her white cloak all 
 1 is it far froB ''"'" '"'" '"' '' "'"^ .sJionuitrs. so cs to a/.pear about six feet iall^ Naomi. 
 r tt» "o for til ^'^^ cornea to opening m ihiniyrooius sit, and cries : Booh ! 
 
 Iack {re>'y quietlg). TI^vo's a gliosi. ( ui the ton*' of one snin'm/). " IIim-o's 
 
 village closelj 
 e place, took 
 
 )ld. 
 I suppose ill 
 
 a burden to 
 
 girls 1 
 
 iraduollif to f(t\ 
 
 II SchoC)l. 
 
 nncy how niiii 
 th.^.t is the re 
 are very diff«| 
 
 )t. 
 niisunderstf 
 
 I 
 
 
26 
 
 SCUUUL. 
 
 1^ li 
 
 I, I 
 I 
 
 some fiui ! " This is really intere.stiiiij. I am fond of gliosis— pa- 
 liiily gliosis in pellicoats. iliim I [ninrk solnmili/) If vou are the (1p|,v 
 spirit of any lale liienil: cunit' hack l<i iniDini nie thai you have W\ 
 souje money — i)iay, mention it at once. 
 
 Naomi {drops hff IiuhUs and discovers herself. Comes down c. ) Wi 
 yon fritjlitened ? 
 
 Jack. Oil! awfully! {rises.) 
 Nao.mi. Wliat are you doint^ there? 
 
 Ja(;iv. Usiny up my fiiend's ciyars. Pity you were not my frier. 
 
 Naomi. Why 7 
 
 Jack. To liave one. 
 
 Naomi. Fie! {liint/hint/li/) I have been in tiie slirubbeny, friylit 
 the yirls — but it was very slow work. 1 would ratliyr slay and lalic 
 you. 
 
 Jack {(osscs ciyar aside). I am so flattered. 
 
 Naomi. Oh, if you tallc like that, 1 sliall run away, {^exit, d., m/ 
 groove se Pause, re-enter) Don't you come after me ? 
 
 Jack (k. c). Not for worlds. 
 
 Naomi (conus down c). I r;in~i make you out at all. 
 
 Jack. Why not 'i 
 
 Naomi. Why. you .speak truths as if they were fibs, and fibs as if 
 trutlis. I lilve to iicar you lalk. 
 
 Jack {hows). The libs or tlie truths 1 
 
 Naom:. Uoth. Have you ever been married ? 
 
 Jack. Nmer. 
 
 Naomi. Wliat are you ? 
 
 Jack. Notlii; ^ It's the occupation I am most fitted for. 
 
 Naomi. Oli, you iuu>t be snnielhing ] 
 
 Jack No, 
 
 Naomi. What were you before you were what you are now ' 
 
 Jack. A little boy ; — but I j^nt notliiiii: for it not even biiche<l. 
 
 Naomi. Mr. Farintosh was sayinsj at table that you had been in 
 army. Were you a horse-soldier or a foot-soldier ? 
 
 Jack. A foot-soldier, a very loot-soldier. 
 
 Naomi. And that you were in the Crimea 1 
 
 Jack. Ya-as. I was then? 
 
 Nao.mi. .\t the B;iiile of Inkennann? 
 
 Jack. Ya-as. 
 
 Nao.mi. Then why didn't you mention it? 
 
 Jack. Not worth while. There were so many other fellows there, 
 
 Naomi. Did you li<jht 1 
 
 Jack. Ya-as, I foujfht. 
 
 Naomi. Weren't you frightened 1 
 
 Jack. Immensely 
 
 Naomi. Tiien why did you stay? 
 
 Jack. Because I hadn't the phu:k to run away. 
 
 Naomi. Did they pay yon nmcli tor fi'jhtinifl 
 
 Jack. No. But then I diiln't d<-) much fiyiitiny, so that I was 
 with them in that respect ! 
 
 Nao.mi I wish I was a man ! 
 
 Jack. I don't. 
 
 Naom!. Wliy not ? 
 
 Jack. I much prefer you as you are. 
 
 Naomi. Now, if you talk like thai, 1 shall run away! 
 
 Jack {cnrekssly). Don't. The world is so large that a diamond 
 easily be lost in it. 
 
ACi' ill. 
 
 •27 
 
 of gliosis— iia- 
 )u art' llit» (U-; \ 
 I you havo Ic; 
 
 ?s down c. ) We 
 
 o not my frier.; 
 
 ibbon^-, fn\'lit(* 
 r slay and talktj 
 
 , (^exit, D., in f-i 
 
 ? 
 
 , and fiha asUij 
 
 ted for. 
 
 are now ' 
 ev«Mi biiclipd. 
 u had been in I 
 
 Naomi {aside). Lovrly ! per-fecl-ly lovely ! {d'tspa /ter hands in tcsturi/) 
 [re M>u f'»'«"l t*' H'iifiiii:,' f 
 
 |.I\Vk. Va-as. Miiidiin^. 
 
 NauMI. L>id you ev.T lead Otiicllo ? 
 
 .1 At K. Va-as. IJi.i 1 liniiL lluiik il nice roadinij for yourig ladii s. 
 
 XalMI. Uilit'llo i<'i«l Ut',>deuiona of ilie danj^ers he had i)as.>ed and 
 \e billies he liad \\«>ii. 
 i.lA( K. Va-as I (Kiiflid was a niuu'tT ntid did md mind brayyiiig. 
 
 .\a..\ii. llut il niiist have bcrii pleasaiil lor lii'Mioinona, 
 [.Iaik HiMiiph! a l)l:icii UH)l<-out. 
 
 Nadmi. Lik«* looking at yciii- iiiisband throui^h a pieceuf suioked ylass. 
 
 Jack. As it he were a planet 
 
 Naomi. Or a luavruhj boihj. (loo/cs touhrli/ at Jack.) 
 
 Jai K. Shall we lake a walk ! 
 
 N.\<'.Mi. 1 d«mi like lo 
 
 Jack ("Jfcts arm). Oh ! you will find it yo easy. I arn not t(»o UiU. 
 
 «'»wo I'lat/s. K.) 
 
 N.*«>Mi. So, 1 like to look up to you. - Tell niL- if I lean on yuu loo 
 kucii. 
 
 J.\cK. Oh ! I can carry a good deal d weii^hl in that way. Are vipu 
 [>mf(iitable ? 
 
 Naomi. Ves. your shoidder doos eaj)itally as a head-rest. 
 
 [Xaojii on Jack s ann cwils h., proscevinm v.. 
 
 En(tr, D., in set /hit, DiiAUKoy utnl Bella, uithjiuj. 
 
 Bel. We are .^oon back. 
 
 Bkal'. I am .^oi ry to .say, wo nre. 
 
 I!kl. Let me deprive >ou of the Jug. 
 
 r>KAL'. And must you go and leave me now 1 
 
 1>KL. 1 must— but 1 will be back again. 
 
 Enter, r., cumiitrj down r., Krl'x. 
 
 Bel. If you will slay there, you will see nie presently. 
 Beal'. (/* about to yiccjuil to Bklla. ulun he sus Kaux./o/rf* jug into 
 [r.rx's hioiih) lleie, you'll do. Cany that into the kitchen. 
 Bella. Oh. my lord ! {eoiifased) I — I wont be a uiinule. {takes Jnp 
 fello\V3 thereMv,,,! Kuux. and yans ojf k, jnoseniiHai li.) 
 
 Bkal'. I beg paidou. Vou are 
 
 Ki;ux. Kru\, my lord. 
 
 Bi;au. I u'.istook vou in the dark for 
 
 i> that I was 
 
 t a diaiuond 
 
 Kufx For one of the female .servants. V^ery natural I A fine night, 
 ^y iurd ? 
 
 Bkap. Yes. Good-night! 
 
 Kki'x. GtMid-nighl, my lord. (Bkaukoy In ma from hiai, he goes up h.) 
 il {m hate, exit, u. 3 li., seuwliuy). 
 
 Enter, k., proscenium E., Bella. 
 
 Bkap. I am so glad you are lelurned. 
 Bkl. I made ail the liasit* I could. 
 r.i:AU. The shrubbery runs all around the garden 1 
 Bkl. It do««s. my lord. 
 
 Bi:au. Will you "'ke my ana again 1 Will you think of me sometimes 
 ^heu 1 am far av t 1 
 
28 
 
 hCUUOL. 
 
 ill 
 
 1 
 
 III 
 
 •ATF' 
 
 i'l! n 
 mall <| 
 
 in vol 
 ' Art 
 
 h'lf A 
 
 ui pi 
 
 L-1-'»Y) 
 ilK.-lilKI 
 ii" sclvl 
 Tli"\| 
 
 ■ 
 
 nil VO 
 
 1 
 
 ' Art 
 
 1 
 
 1 h.(f r 
 
 ■ixs S 
 
 1 
 
 fui P 
 
 1 
 
 AfF'»Y) 
 
 lli:i,. Oil, yes. Tlioro is no one, nftrr a Hrsi interview, with wlj. 
 liki'il till' cunversfuiun so niucli. Von aio ihe fir.il 
 
 JJi L TIk' liisl lord 1 over luiew. 
 
 lii:.\f. Ami you llie lirsl Utile lady that ever I cared for. (ff"in(/iu. 
 JUella. Kkux (i/ijiiins, u. '6 E., spi/ini/) 1 bliull be very s>aU wlicn 1 
 awav Iroin lieie io-nij;lil. 
 
 liiL. 'S>ni * 
 
 IJkau. V'-.n. 
 
 Bkl. Why .' {l/iti/ cxi'ioit L., prosccnunn ¥..,u-/itie Bella is luokuxj up\ 
 ausutr lo lit) ijiiistiou.) 
 
 Kitux {nois iloun \K. ond io c). AVIieie's Mrs. SutcliHel " My l^- 
 indeed ! lie utistouk ni<> in ihc dark lur a lumalc hurvanl ! Waii a I 
 We shall see, we shall see I [Rum off, u. '6 i 
 
 . Enter, R., proscenium E., ScuooL Girls, Laura, Tillv, etc. 
 
 Latra. Where is IJcII.'i ? 
 
 Til Willi l.oid lifimtoy! odious Utile flirt! Why, when one lia)| 
 lord, he oiiyiil in he divided up anionysL the lest of us. 
 
 Enter, L. 3 e,, to opounj c, ami down c, Milly. 
 
 Mil. Gills! {\hh come to c) 
 
 All. What? 
 
 Mii.. Ilu.sh 1 {bill strikes ten) Here she is ! (All (fo to l. front.) 
 
 Enter, l. 3 e., cni.sxnuj to exit, R 3 e., Ijklla on Bkaufov's arms, eachlo^ 
 
 iiiij 'U the otiicr offeAioudtily. 
 
 Laura. Well, the;e, 1 never! 
 
 Til. Nor 1! 
 
 Mil. Bui 1 should like to ! The imi)udence of thai Bella ! 
 
 Enter, L 3 e., nnd coming to c, Knux, looK-ing oficr Bella. Enter, i 
 K.. Naomi, on Jack s (trm. When thty come to c, Jack pushes Kk[| 
 J'Onf, oitt of the U'lii/. 
 
 Ja( K. Take care ! thank you ! (crosss ^ofXi< tnVA Naomi, r. 3 e., Kk; 
 sloirti/ folio us them off. sume.) 
 Til And them, too ! 
 Mil. You mean tlu'y four ! 
 
 Enter, r., proscenium e.. Dr. and Mrs. Sutcliffe, followed hy Farimo; 
 putt.ng on his yiovis, in his overcoat. 
 
 Dr. S. Oh ! stop to li;ive a Li'n^s of sherry and a sandwich. 
 
 Far. I cannot. This leiiei torn uiy lawyer is most important !* If 
 drive over at once. I shall he ;il»i' to ;.>el my thing's toijether and c.T 
 the niiihl tra'ii. Yes, yes, on ihis may depend the most imporlanl i uu. An 
 of my life Let me thank yon a<iain for the most charminij and insin 
 tive day I have spent in this place. Eli, eh 1 
 
 Ill ha, 
 
 *' Da. 8. 
 
 Mrs. 8. 
 n. c. 
 
 Fab. 
 c. 
 
 G1BL8. 
 
ACT iir. 
 
 lew, with wlJ 
 
 for. (f/i'iH// 1 t,j 
 ry saU wIumi li 
 
 A is look I) I tj II}, > 
 
 iV ? " My l.,ri| 
 ml ! Wiui a 
 inns of, K. '^ i\ 
 
 Tli.LV, lie. 
 
 when uiio liaj| 
 
 l.I.Y. 
 
 ) L. front.) 
 s (inns, each h 
 
 ella! 
 
 Jack nnd Bracpoy enter n. 3 k., and come down. Jack down r., 
 
 ■ 4rF"V down c.) Goo(l-nij?1il, and wish riu> inatiy liappv rofiirns. 
 L/ 11. , 'v^'H '/</'f</<,«^ Jack. To Jack i ,\ii ! Aitlmr. n\w wo;.i wiiii yo\i! 
 lliiill ukft tlio carriai^e, so you and your liitMid c;iii waMi over tlio 
 Ih; is fill.', and -y.'s, yos. Apropos, (lifv icli mo that Mr. Puvnt/. lias 
 i:i [layitiii mirkod alUMitioiis to tho iu^iress— fdi. nli ' Misfi Tiyli«, 
 liu you liavo beoii neslocliiiir for n Miss Mclla. Arlluir. .,m-/j— ye.s,' 
 
 ' Artliiir, I reu'ard snoli cotidiicl as liiuhly roproiiPiisible ~ (i/wVA no 
 \ hut rh'tnifc of tonf to kinlhi one) fJod lilcss voii I 
 lliis S (<oJa(;k>. .\t any tiinp, Mr. Poyntz, most iiappy to s«'»« you. 
 ^AR I'oynt/- \ Mr. Poynt/, ? All I {goei to c. and m>'fts IJeaufoy.' To 
 u'FoY) 1 iK.'od not say tli ii my hox is at your scrvicn any time you 
 
 iiK.-Iiiied to coinf down to shoot here. Apropos, of sh<M,riiin, hf, he ! 
 kf school gills havM woiidtM fill eyes ' they see everytliiny— just like 
 ' Th.'y lell mo that A-iliiir has I.een i»ayin<; all hisaltentions to (»iie 
 y\ Miss IJt'Ila— he shouldn't do that, should he ni>w .' 
 
 rx c'lh-ra R,, 3 E. nnd Vaithuan n., proscenium E., eomimj to c.,* behind 
 
 All. 
 
 wronnr of him, vory wronn t [fjncn to 1)r S and tak<s his hnndx, to 
 
 S.) .My dear Mr SiUclitri', luanv thanks for your entertainment of 
 
 liy. Hy the way, one word. Theodore is not well. He <lrank too 
 
 li \vine at diiiniM- ! (y[\i<..>inl l)\i. A. cTrhrn'/c fiorri/i',l looks) much 
 
 ^aach ! 1 have been waichiiij; iiim. He is lireakin^j fast. Von must 
 
 liiieat cireof iiim or w.; sh.ill lose him. (tnrna l. \' auc.iia.v nt his 
 
 >lh')u\ KuiT.K on hiH It'f!) Voiinii la<lies, cool-nisiiit ! (/</>.« his h<ii) 
 
 vi' the thanks of a m:in old enough to he the father of .'inyhody 
 
 "II <>>:ce[)ting my good friends, the Doctor and .Ms. SuN-lille" He, 
 
 /"'.v.? KiuTx'.j '?/•//<) Vau^lian. have you ordered the carriage round 
 
 !'• il lor .' (perceire/t his error, tiikea V Wdiws' A itnn) £ — 1 heg pardon, 
 
 Ivo.'i. The dark and — and —quite so. 
 
 LA. Enter iff" '"'''''''' ^- 2 E., and remiins L. among the Girls, who express vexation 
 K pushes KkI "* ''^'■• 
 
 •^vrtir! Qod bless you very much ! I declare I feel quite young 
 
 . K. 3 E. Kk;B' ■ ''^' '''"^ ' {skippinj up .c on Vaui;uan'8 arm) (luile young. \(tt h, 
 ' (i I )(l-hy! 
 
 1. <it)od-iiiglit. 
 
 !C (fo IJkaim'oy). Arthur, {they m-et up v. Kni'x whisper to 
 
 S who displn/s 'i.niz-iuenf mid horror, 'in I looks nt Ukavfoy Jierceli/) 
 
 , r ■'!!■ I am sur,irisi'd at v<iur paving vour attentions so opeidy to that 
 
 bl/ FaKINTO.=| |;,.|,,^ .».-,. I J 
 
 \.M\ Have I behaved so very badlr 1 
 K. Oh. awful I Do whatever yuu like witli a giil, but don't get 
 '"^''- IiiA-d ab )ut. 
 
 'ortant !* IJal-. Humph ! not my doctrine, 
 her and f'.Tl,.|< Ah. vmi belong to liie old Sut >/rical schoo\. 
 important i^xv. And vou to tho modern cvnical. 
 ig and iiibtru 
 
 1L8. 
 
 •Vm-ohav. * 
 
 I)l(. «. * * 
 
 MiiH. S. ♦ Fau. 
 
 Bkaiik. * 
 Jack * 
 
 * Kiiux. 
 
 » 
 
 * OinLB. 
 
'40 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 I 
 
 .Jack. It/s Fnustaiul Marguprito ovpi- njinin. 
 
 Bkaii. I know where to look for the Mf|»liisioph<»le«. 
 
 Jack. Oli ! .Mophislopholcs Im* 
 
 13k\u. Ii is uuiH'ci'ssuiy. llu <« so ahoady. 
 
 Enter Rklla, i, , but the fJiRLS tiini mr ay from her. f>hc ia confuted. 
 
 How am yoM jiotlina f>n with the lieircss ? 
 
 .Jack. Sh** talks iiko a rroldliiicli. 
 
 IWCAU. llfH", jiivc iiic ii ciiiiir. (Jif nmf ,1a(K li^'ltt rirjar.^.) 
 
 Jack. Doctor aiitl ladies all, ji'od-iii'jhl, ! 
 
 1{kait. 1 echo my iVicnd. (lood-niyiit ! {anidr, lookinij at \\\.\,\.\\\ 
 though I think /^ may say, oh rrinir ! 
 
 I /•)>// nrm in nrm vith .Tack, n. x>i v. 
 
 Mhs. S. (/oKnux). Aro you qiiile snro of what yon ar*? .sayitii;, .M-.| 
 Krii.x 1 
 
 Kui'x. Ask her! {nvcer) Site always sp-aks tlip truth. 
 
 MltS. S. {on \\v.\.\.\ roinrni/ ir/f'>r(ion/i/fl;/ to her ai't<).* Oh t I never'] 
 Don't t(»noh mo I (IJ|.;r,I,A i/mps hn- oiitstn Ir/inf /mn'/, iisfi»iis/i,il) or VMhcr 
 
 jjivc nie your hand. What do I see I a riny on your tinker ! Then iii]| 
 all ti ue 1 'JVIl me, where did you get it ? 
 
 lly.h. Lord DiNUifoy yave it to nie. 
 
 All. Lord Heawt'ov ? 
 
 Krux {<'linclditiif\. 1 fold you! 
 
 Mas. S. Vou have been waiehod during your outrageous pronienail 
 with iiim. 
 
 Kni'x {(tsi'h'). Well watched. I did that. 
 
 Naomi. What if she did ? Tiiere s no harm in thai! I was walkin.'l 
 and talking willi Jack. 
 
 All. .Jack ! 
 
 Mii.-s. S. Silence, Miss TiL'he. I will attend to you in the inorniii.'| 
 As for this d(>{)raved <riri 
 
 Dii. S. Mv dear ' 
 
 Mi!S. S. Silence, Theodore! 
 
 Da. S. {merkly). Yes. niy love, 
 
 Mas. S. {rtsfs). V'oung ladioK, you may retire to your dormitories, 
 
 GiaLS {niurutio). 0\\^ {■lud cross to r., cur fsri/) Good-ni;;lit ! 
 
 Ijkl. Oh, girls! won't you say good-night to vir ? 
 
 Mas. S, Dont dare to addre.s.s them ! Abandoned girl I Don't daiv 
 to approach any of the young ladies, [Exeunt (Jihl.s, J4. 
 
 Naomi, r,, mnkcs n face nt Knrx and snijs i>t disauxt : Baa-ah ! Exit, /m' 
 %ng her hand to Bklla, n,, prpxrcmitm k. 
 
 iNIns. S. Hu.ssy ! to attemj)t to bring shame upoti thi.s r^ ••'>n 
 house. George will take you over to the slalion in the ni 
 to London ; there you will find shelter in the house of nv .mtl . 
 Stanton, for one month. IJy thai time, you will have founi: situai 
 somewhere — for only a tnoiilh, remember. 
 
 Du. S. But my dear 
 
 Mas. S. Silence ! 
 
 Dn. s" 
 
 •Mrs. S. 
 Fiii'x.* 
 
 a. c 
 
 'Bi:ll.\. 
 
 *GmLs. 
 
 *Xaomi. 
 
 L. 
 

 ACT IV. 
 
 81 
 
 <? IIoUl yniir foncuo! (finuhf) Tln» pupils fir*» no lotirrpr here, 
 
 1 »<// sjpi'iik 1 ((/>v;ir.» lli;i,LA ^* hnn ti'tnlirhi) Hflli. liiv ilrnr cliiUr 
 
 n>l; yon ii l'<'\v (|iiosli(>iis. Difl Lord iJeiiufoy giv« you that ling] 
 
 (voii'i' rfio/cri{ inf/i (firx). Y»!S. 
 S Atifl why (h(l lio i;ivf» it to you 1 
 
 All ! I cairi It'll you that.. 
 X. Th«»io, iIh'IC I [ttnnitiurj!/ ) 
 
 S. ( »»(M.s('.s to Kiii'X). Out <>♦ my sinht or I shall strike yoti. (Knnx 
 l(. otf n., proscenium v..) M 'Uii, my child! {rtdirtin to Hkll.a) did 
 H.'iiiitoy say lluil he lovnd you 7 
 
 L \rir'/ f'"iiifli/\. Yes I (Ixiu:^ her head, rtnd, as her hmul is up to her 
 m<j at ItKiiLtiH'^ to rvpriss lur sobs, her lips tuvoUnUarily kiss the ring.) 
 
 (II.. 
 
 rATK. n. \)l K 
 
 aro sayijiH. }i| 
 
 ous prouHMiaii^ 
 was walkiii.'l 
 (lit^ moruin: 
 
 I ! Don't dill" 
 
 Ut (I1KI..S, K. 
 
 .Ii ! Exit, A(.<- 
 
 [Iks. S. I said so ! 
 ;;. S. Good heavens, what of that? It is very easy to love Bella. I 
 lit'i', for one I 
 [liis. !^, Oh, Doctor ! {ajfected horror) Tako mo in ! I shall faint I 
 
 S Yon avH too har.sh and ciuel on IJclla. 
 \W^. S (Hi, Theodore, you love mo no longer! 
 
 S, No ! I mean yes. (Muh. S. sobs and exits n., proscenium v.. Dr, 
 [/■„//')(/•» her; soothiwjly) My love, my love, I didn't intend— («// 
 
 K., 
 
 'iiiitin 
 
 E.) 
 
 5kl ( c, (done, tearfullii). Is it so wrong, then, to love him — to wear the 
 
 lliJil he yave nie .' If 1 tlioiijiht so. 1 — (ijisture of (joint/ to Jlmrj the 
 
 au'iji — stopf) No! it .seems to give me couiaae to hiave the world. 
 
 [i 1 must go from here ! 1 ujusi leave you, dear home — the only home 
 
 lave ever known — with all the kind tVifMids. the servants, llu» play- 
 
 niy kind benefactors ! forever! (Hi! what will l)ec<»iiie of me in 
 
 liddii - all alone, without a friend in the world 1 Alone ! alone ! alone ! 
 
 ilirs ittvat/ in sobhimi. I 
 
 lAii.Mi \<ippe(irs It. in n. 2 1:., sit flit). No, Bella, no! not alone! 
 
 )fvs doirn stairs, R., with bun tic, her mantle and h'tt on) I will g(» with 
 
 iieri/ animatcdl//) We will yo to^etlK-r! 1 have fourteen j)oiinds in 
 
 J purse, and we will live with one another! NotiiiiiL; shall separate u.s 
 
 death do us part! {/alls un Bklla's uick, both sobbing.) 
 
 Beaufoy is seen cliinbinr/ tree, n. c to look over wall. 
 
 CUnTAIN. 
 
 Lapse of Six Weeks, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 f^ame as Act TIL (lis up for nmrntng sunlight effect. Overture 
 to curtain rising, a livclg dance. 
 
 vmrr. seated R., Naomi, thoughtful. Mii,i,y viih skippmg-rope, Tilly 
 fuitigiiig, Ukt' y m swing, GiKLS rdiitig hoop and pl'iping tag, etc. 
 Some walk abi arm round waist, off and on h. aide. 
 
 Mi, {(inna n Sulky again,. Nunnny I Why aren't you playing ? 
 
 A MI. 1 doll nnt t'l 
 I II.. She is thi i-jg of Bella 1 (All laugh) It is just six weeks today 
 Ice she was gone. 
 
 1( 
 
 V! 
 
 \\ 
 
32 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 ,iB»; 
 
 '4 
 
 ■in 
 
 Naomi {ahenfli/). Poor Bella ! (pausf) I wonder wliere he Is 1 
 
 Gjuls. Jli' is J 
 
 N-voMt. lie 1 She ! How could Bella be a he 1 
 
 Mil,. For luy i);irt, I am ylad she is gone — a liLllo stuck-up Ihiii". 
 never liked her, did we, girls i 
 
 All. No ! never ! 
 
 Mil She was always so {roody-iioody and stupid ! 
 
 Til Oh ! now, 1 thouj^hl her Loo cuiiiiiiii^ ! 
 
 Naomi. Vouro a pauk «)f iiauulity. uiii,natet'iil tjirls ! after all the sm 
 she has done for you and all the black marks slie let you oil, too ! 1;. 
 Hke siniekiiii^ all your laces ! 
 
 Mil l*ooh ! {ndcinis) V'oii are not amontj little blackamoors in 
 and I should like to .see you smack my lace ! 
 
 Naomi. Vou shall feel me <lo it if you don't take care ! (^w-//; , 
 thrc'itruinij movcinnt mul .Mii,!,ii' lifts her skippiny-rope iii dtfciu'e.) 
 
 Laura {slcrptli/). I liked li.dia! 
 
 All. Vou! Ua ha ! Why.' 
 
 Laijua. Ves, because she always jzave me her bread and butter. 
 
 Mil. .M;iv be she'll want it now where she is, the little upstart! [ 
 
 R.) 
 
 GiULS. 0!i ! there's breakfist. 
 
 Naomi. I won't go in to breakfast. Ive got a headache, and Mi 
 Sutcliire say-; I may stay out h 'le and take iln> I'lesh rir. 
 
 Til. The f.-e^li air for bi-eaki'asL l'(tor Uiinij ! (sttMoih/) (>li. ^i: 
 here comes Beila. i Nao.mi jninpa up to her feet oikI loo/cs round e<ujerbj]. 
 
 All {liHfih). Ha. hi ! 
 
 Naomi. Wii a a shame ! [(iiULS exeunt u . ,>roseinntm v.., I'liiijhni^i. 
 
 Lait"\ (aj/«<'.« /« Nao.mi). Nn'ermiMl tiiei:- v.e.^rs II'MV — {un/oifti 
 piece of prp'!r soleinu'i/) here is a gnu- lio.) f -r .\ on ! (Nao.mi throws »7 
 Laitra. w'io exitu slowlii r., proxmi'im k.) 
 
 -Nao.mi ['done, at a) I wish I was a mi m ! I don't see what use gii: 
 are ! 1 hate girls -boys are so uiucii m );e maidy I (ffons ciitltort^'i/ //n .• 
 {ookinj scfu-ehin.df/ nroi;i I hi')', i^ne^ ilio.i iinl tt/cs si'at on sf>t{, r o 
 Lookn ron'i I, c lulii'H'i'.if dr niu i t:'i' fri ii /fr b >so n, looks up stritfj/if or'-- 
 heal, (IS if nfriiid of soinebxlif hriny erm in the trees to ■catch her. It i-U\ 
 •' My dear, dear Na );ai ! " {liu/ht in h/v-ri-tl deHf/hf) " Mv dear, d-^r 
 Naomi I " (s'vn-' I iw/ ,) I reil that s )^)1'mm that [ cm hardiv gH on uii 
 the rest of it. '• .My dear, dexr N i)ini ' " Chesses '■^" •) " I have hesit.u 
 whethr-r to write to you so so )ii agun or not." W'ul noineM-^o I as ii 
 girl could ever hav.3 too m itiy K)ve-ipt,(,.->r-i. '•!•'•.• v mi see. mvlov- 
 (Innht as before) How well h» expresses hims 'If ! II .\ ^piiie nn aut'i.r 
 '• [ liiouglit it would be better t\ r m* not, to pursue (lie eorresp tiideiic^ 
 Willi tilt, the approv.i' of your guarda is. i-i v,>n a,.,, s) youn ^ ' '• ,^ 
 yomij;: Jac'.v is always diigiu: that in mv t'.iee ! p-opIe"c.Tn't^b« biir 
 growii-iip cii they? I wish I was .-is .,! I ns Mrs Sutcliae ! then !i 
 coulihiL say i was too young. (rer/<) { oalie 1 o-i M.-. Knrint(>sli. hml 
 the pi) )r old B.vui his h-^'u serif)Usly ill— so serjoiislv tlnl his life w,v 
 <lesp lire ! on. I came again when he w.-^.s -.etter. and while in his liousf 
 had tlie fo tune to meet on » of you • giiar<lian«. I took the c!nn-e. nM" 
 obtained an iiitro lueiiou. I improved the opporinnity, so th;it ih • j 
 g Mitlemin has invited me to dine with him." I wish 1 was mv guardim 
 H> Wi>n't understan<l him. It re(|uires a great deal of inteiiiiience Mn.i| 
 good ta>l,e to appreciate Jnek. (Joing to dine with mv .Ta"«k 1 Oh 
 ireidv) '■ I have ieaint nothing further about vour friend Bella. Sh« 
 left the house in London three rluys alter Ihm' .arrival and Mrs. S(,ii;loi 
 IS of Ih" opinion that siie has hot £>oi.e lo ;i .situalion." P.t.ir Beila' 
 '• Mv friend. L«ml Beauloy has al.so disappea;cd So doarest " Tf 
 
 ;in2 tol 
 
 Kl.l' 
 (' >• 
 
 ills b;il 
 u yoal 
 U .vill 
 
 if ixrit\ 
 
 .!.'■ iiy 
 
 .iiii'i 
 
 It' life 
 ; s 10. 
 
 .\rK. 
 
 ACK. > 
 .U'MI 
 
 ',mj n. 
 fro'in I 
 <. Ja< 
 
 \<-K. .' 
 
 .\(iMI. 
 
 P'luts lei 
 
 [l\CK. I 
 
 \oMt. 
 
 A' K. 
 
ACl IV. 
 
 33 
 
 iere lie is ] 
 
 uck-iip thiiid. 
 
 aftorull the Slid 
 ou oil, tou ! ij 
 
 'l-'ickainoors 
 
 ' care ! {mid] 
 i defence.) 
 
 •'Hid butter, 
 t-le upstart! [\ 
 
 "Inche, ami m 
 
 i(h)ily) OIj. qitj 
 round e<T(/erh) \. 
 
 'H K., I'llHjIllKij, 
 U>.\1I throH-S It; 
 
 what nso (tji 
 mtti'ft^'if /m ,• I 
 
 p slt'iiiffht or''.: 
 ''> >if>-. It ^/,|| 
 ■M\' dear, <l->a{ 
 11 \' -T't on wi 
 lave lie.sit.u*! 
 
 i^-yin I as ;|i 
 
 ife nn aiit'io' 
 frespoii'lciic" 
 yoiuijf ! " S 
 
 (M'l't be bi)' 
 lit!' ! fbeu !i, 
 ■'nrititosjli, \)v\ 
 I! 1 1 is life \v.v[ 
 ' ill Iiis hoiisel 
 '' I'll m-'e. hmII 
 
 > fliijf 111-. m1! 
 
 mv ifii'irdiiii 
 ''iiiiTonce ani!| 
 
 ■Tacic ! Oil 
 P.ella. SIpI 
 
 Mis. Sfaiitoi;! 
 
 osL J, 
 
 ling to an end ! I've a mind u> be^iu it all over aifuin " So, dearest, 
 ;,,| ii() aiid be informed of all tlit* news of the money market, of bides 
 
 ;ai|i>vv. coch'Hcel, and uray sliiniii<»s ' Ilo .s|)eils cochineal \vi;b 
 
 li.». IJni litve is .superior lo o thouraphy. I love him all the more 
 '1 1 is bad >peliiiiu. ( r.- ds) '' De.iiesl, ibe tirst lime I >a\v you 1 ionkeil 
 III vuii >viih adnuiaLion, because I kiimv ynu were so rich but wlicn 
 
 , /villi that niijbt, I was tilled w.ui iuvi' " 1 dun i like that! 
 
 Li lias Mitiney yoL to do with it \ Can umi thousand pounds wiiie love- 
 tisiike this 1 Can ten thousand pound.> yo out to iiie Crimea and li^lii ? 
 \u (icite-dij) Can ten thousand pounds put Ids arm round ynu and 
 Le/t' vou ! {yravtly) No, il couldn't. " iJu 1 1 love you fondly, lieaiiv, 
 [oit'illy ! {kisies leHer) Without you, I nm like a sail without a snip If 
 Viiiiii be so iiappy as lo please yoiu" miardians. the conduct of my 
 hje life siiall prove that I love you fur youi.self alone."' [^neorly cri/ing) 
 kt s real poetry, {iiipes her eyes) " Vour fond and faithlul Jack." 
 i(l)iHg.) 
 
 Jack t<hoics his head above set wall, at c. 
 
 IvrK. Naomi ! 
 
 AuMi {sf'irts). What's that? {hides letter.) 
 Iack. Naomi I 
 
 Ia<i.\ii {titrn.s). .Tack! {nsr.<>) Oh! {nois to n. t» f. an I lets in ,1 \CF, 
 tiiKj D. 0/xn. Tliey coine tlmvn. N.nomi, twice, cm onbf just rcstinin her- 
 ' from emhracDti) .Jack, when he is not lookinri. They take siatn, c., on 
 A' Jack nn Naomi's \,.) 
 
 AiK. Ah I [pl'iys with his c"»e.) 
 
 Kao.mi, Well, i^v) on ! {paw^es — mutual embarrassment. Jack r'lls dmrn 
 \]viuts leys) Have vou no news to tell m(> ? 
 
 UK. I had loads to toll you, but wIumi I see you. I forgot. 
 
 \!Mi. I was ureannn.j of yon last lULdit. Do you ever dream of me? 
 
 A" K. Often, but 1 did not yo lo sleep all last nij^bt, 
 
 AnMl. No f 
 IIack. No ! r heard that old Fnrinfosb was better, so T look the niiiht 
 jin down to Ids .«;bootiii<: box. in h^ pes that I nii^ht see vmi ai.'ain. I 
 mid he was comiii:j over boie. but I distanced bitn. ami v^bilf I was 
 litinij outside, I thought y ni'ulit as well look ovei and bee if you v-ere 
 
 irp 
 
 |\w>\ti. .Xn.l r wn». .nn.l T I't v,> i:,. Y.-n a;v wtdl .» 
 
 Vm'K. Nov.m- beifpr. \,„| v,,ii ' 
 
 IN AOMi. I am^ ipiifo „.en. thank vm. 
 
 j.rvrK. I don'i mind the Kiss of sleep b'lf tnv btivrr from Faiintns;h*3 
 
 K'iVod me of Ply J, p,->l;f^,v| too. 
 
 N'voMi. Not li}i(j vour breakfast ' T br;ve not bad mine ! 'What "^vmpa- 
 
 Li • . 
 
 [•^Nf^K IT'iw |pv'» fliov all bp''»M 'i M"f s'p(>n — since 
 
 V\"Mt Since R->!ln went away ' Ob Mrs. Su'c'idb ba*J b"en very ill, 
 1 til" Doctor is in a dioadful state. II» is aii'jrv with Mr. Krux, for 
 
 lif^ard him snving to bitn {gravely, iu horror) d-a-m. damn ! 
 
 Jack. Tromondon^ ! 
 
 Naomi Did vnu cpf* niy Grnardians? What did they tliink of it? 
 
 Jack. Tbcv are )>otb " city " men — tbey can't think ! By the way, 
 vou kmnv how old you are ? 
 
 Naomi. Ei'ihleen. 
 
 Jmms. No! vou nre nemriy twerdv-one You «ee. you were so for- 
 
 ■ttil that yj>nr "inrfli.ms \vpr.> i>uz7.'e'l wIhmo to «cnd vioi to scliool ; 
 M to do so here they suppressetl part of yotu" a;;e. and dec \jted you 
 
31 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 Naomi. What a shame ! to "ivindle a poor girl out of three vearsoil 
 her hio. 
 
 Jack. T couldn't fiiul out anything more about poor Rplla. 
 
 Naomi. Poor girl ! But only to think of her noi having wr'lten to rotBl 
 — not even a .single line, {thoucihtfullij) 1 think it puy.s better to put aij^ 
 your love on a man ! girls are so deceitful, while men aie quite the co!i.| 
 iraiy. 
 
 Jack (ronffkn). Hem ' there are men, and individuals. 
 
 Nao.mi. Jack, fjoH will be (iluinis good to me? 
 
 Jack (takes krr h'Oidn). 1 have proniiscd. 
 
 Nao.mi {UglUlif). I should like you sometimes to bo bad, so thaill 
 coul<i have the pleasure of forgiving yon ! 
 
 Jack. I dare .say 1 can accommooaic yon ! 
 
 Naomi. Jack, why are people in love called spoons ? {risen.) 
 
 Jack (vises). Because they are so often carried to the lips, {about 
 embrace Naomi.) 
 
 Enter, r., proscenium e., Kkux. 
 
 Iks. S. P^ 
 ;i,M- awav 
 
 .;■ S H.M 
 
 KS, S. V. 
 mip.iit, to N 
 
 R., pr<' 
 
 » 
 
 Krl'x. Oh I ♦ TIow do you do. sir ? I hope I liave the pleasure 
 seeing you well, {jxiim') I am (piite well, thank you. 
 
 Jack {contempt uohsI;i). I did not ask you. 
 
 Krux. Ah ! but you meant to. 
 
 Jack. 1 was coming ovor to .«;po the Doctor for Mr. Farintosh, as 1 px 
 pei'ted we would here meet together, and finding the Liatc open 
 
 Krux The gate ope'\ ? now who could have oj)ei,ed the gatel 
 
 Naomi, The cat! 
 
 Kri!X. The catl 
 
 Naomi. Yes, the cat ! {to Krux, holds nut her crooked fingers like clam 
 That I keep to scratch out spies' eyes 
 
 Jack Announce to the |)octor that Mr. Farintosh will arrive shortlr 
 
 Kiiirx. J I em ! he has already arriveil. 
 
 Jack {to NaomO. You will hardly know the old Beau since his .sick 
 
 ness. He acts and dresses like any other old gentleman, and looks all lb ' ",,' "^ ' ! 
 ....... • " I'- 111'* g"ea 
 
 better lor it. 
 
 AR. ii.ipp: 
 
 iv-t h in Is 
 lere. Kl 
 wli > is noi 
 Ifstregiil 
 
 'drs her h( 
 S)* M; 
 ,.) iieLhiii 
 
 s III tny prt' 
 for two da 
 
 iijo'l man. 
 I have la; 
 
 I fop. will 
 
 .iTs. Mv 
 /« ir'th Fa I 
 \-: I Irivi 
 \ 'Ml O 1 
 ■■i ff'r hail i\ 
 \\i. M\' ilei 
 ■I her oul- 
 
 IM. 
 
 Enter, n., proseetttHm a., Dr. S. ami Mrs. Sittcmppe. 
 
 la'.v. I con 
 
 (*"j!' si'fnifii'i 
 
 \\\ ills wi 
 
 iiil'i retire 
 
 Jack. Ah. Doctor, and my dear Mrs. Sutclinfe. I am glad to see yo^v,. d his ere 
 
 that, she i 
 to th" 
 u<i ioik^) Y< 
 ii^lii, ut» the 
 ?— .o the cr 
 "fiiiiors, in; 
 
 •■. \l is B(>11; 
 I iiiiisL h; 
 
 V were mv 
 have chil<l 
 iilea of th 
 
 again. T was sent on before Mr. Farintosh. 
 
 Kttrx t And the unte being opened by the cat 
 
 Dr. S. nwl Mrs S. Bv the cat 7 
 
 Jack. Yes -of course not. I mean that I found th" interesling anini 
 nulside, so Chat 1 opened the gate 
 
 Kiinx. From the inside ? • 
 
 Jack. No. not exactlv that. The fact is. as I was lifting the anini 
 over the wall— you see— I - I saw Miss Tighe, and~(/<'"i//i» confusrdh 
 ha. ba ! von ktiow 
 
 Naomi. I opened the gate. Mr. Krux, you can shut it. (Kri'x ihk 
 p. it) K 1 
 
 Dr. S Mr. Povniz, we received all your kind letters, (shakes Jack t,, ,ne! p 
 hnnd^ How can we thank you sufKciently for all your inriuiries about il tthich have 
 fate of that poor girl "? i' from om 
 
 I'MSO ? go 
 
 'Krcx. 
 
 , R. O. 
 
 Hit. B. 
 
 Jack.* 
 
 Mrr. H. 
 
 Naomi.'^ 
 Jack. 
 
 Naomi 
 L. O. 
 
 I I- re ? 
 
 .. .< Tiien 
 Kii- is'iiun 
 ' II' "t toll v 
 
 •Dii. H. 
 
Acr IV. 
 
 35 
 
 ree vearsofRnR^ S. Poor cliild! I shall never cease to'reproach myself for having 
 
 : iier an' ay. 
 
 )i; S ilere conios Mr. Fa ititosh. 
 I'tfon tonyBMi;-; '"^ Vou can remain, .Miss Tiuhe. Mr. Fariritosh has flom?thing 
 ^r to pill iMiiai''^''^ ^'' y^"- 
 lile the o^tL 
 
 r B., proxceni'im e.. Faui\to«5ii. with the steady though ijifi m gait 
 of an old iiuni, and stooping a little. 
 
 1) SO tbaill 
 . {about 
 
 pleasure ( 
 
 >sh, as 1 px] 
 
 KM) 
 
 itel 
 
 » like clavA 
 ive shortlf 
 
 hi 
 
 S MCI 
 
 vrj. Happy to sop ymi a^ain. my oM fi jciul^. Mr. Poyntz, d»'lii.'htod. 
 
 ;v,t h'lni'i with Jack. To .Ia<k. asi'fi i It appoars thoio has het'ii trou- 
 
 ,\\erc. Kli, oil I Olio of llie y<>iiii<,f hidifs has jzone away with soiiio 
 
 li ) is nol a youiiu laily. H»», ho I Snoh " accidonts will happon in 
 
 I ii-ilie^iilitoil -" solio'tis H<', iio ' (/'? Naomi) My doar Miss Ti<jjlu», 
 
 )/.r,? iier hand) your suardiaii.s soiid their best loviv {to 1>k. »S. mid 
 
 \n. S )* My friends, I rt-jjiet to find you in di^iross, Imt I believe I 
 
 ' >.i iiotliiii^j to iiit'orin you of which will tnako yoii t'ornot your sad- 
 
 III my present joy. I have b'oii very ill siiicf I last saw you. and I 
 
 for two days within the shadow of death. I locovoied, but I ios«»a 
 
 lio 1 Mjan. I never enji)y''(l life more than now, for 1 know what il 
 
 I hivo laid ilowii the i>ir-do;i of my foHios. I thouulit myself a 
 
 •;j f'^\). whoii I was nothitin hut an old fool. 
 
 : S Mv doar ohl friond, I coni^ratulalo you I (Jtr and .Mus. S. shake 
 
 !< infh FaUINTOSU. ) 
 
 "v!! I have found my son's child (general emotion.) 
 '\u or it must be so beautiful to have a father! (FAHiNTosn 
 
 an I ippri'cia 
 
 tivrbj.) 
 
 'a:;. M>- ilear (•hild, you shall see our meeting; for my lawyer has 
 • 1 her out — she is here. 
 
 !, II'MO.' 
 
 >. S Tiion you have brought lier wii'i you 7 
 [ui (s''iinin I'in / with histc to speak all he has to saif 'it n>ii\). N-n-no ! 
 
 linir anini; 
 
 the aiiini 
 
 C0»fl4Sf(li\ 
 
 \nrx sh: 
 
 il:es Jack 
 > about tl 
 
 I ii"t tell you I Whit a suipid ohl fool I ani. lo bo >ii 
 
 Ah! 1 
 
 lero 
 
 oovs a iri J, ii^^, jTieat and Joyful surprise to you all I My son -lied rihroad 
 
 Mi-x. 1 ooiiifi-atulate you. (Jack pashca Kkux to \.. front, ani sunajs 
 (•III-: si'iaff inthi ) 
 
 \i5 His wife, my dauuhter-in-law, rettirned to Enclfi"''. l"it. ^ho 
 _.; into retiroinent, under the iiamo which poor Fieil ha<l a»siim»'d last, 
 to see yo v.i ^l his creditors. She rotainod the name, nn<i it was as .Mis. Moun- 
 ;hat she died, leavinif her child, my som Foi's child, my urand- 
 1 to th? charily of strangers. (Mrs. an I I>u. Sptcmffk exchimir 
 iv/io)ks) Yes. she died in the villaL'o close by, ami a iioo<l woman 
 .'ill uit the child under her name, till she <Iyiti<x, left, her to y.iur 
 -lo the caro of you. ( ^» l>ii. S.) nn I of you. (to .Mrs. 8.) her kinil 
 ■'tii;tors, luy old ('olIe^e chmn, my old sweotlihe.ail I Bless you ! 
 il is Bella Marsh that i seek. This is iho supreme mom -nl of my 
 I must have sei'U her wlien I was here last, but .-imotiL' so many, 
 I wore my eyes to do"? Ah! you will understand niy joy, if ever 
 liave rhiidren, tliou'jih, I sujiposo. vou have lonu since uiven over 
 i'iea of that ' Eh, oh "! Bella Mush ! my urand<-hiid. Bella ; tiive 
 to lue! pnMluce lior at once. Lot her rest wiihin ihe.^«! old arms 
 ivliich have been pillowed li-r poor father'.s boyi>h he. id. Hh. oh? 
 U from un^ to the o/h'i- of rh^rrartcrs, pet ;>h'xed) Ah! she is not in 
 I'liisft ' ^one out { oli. let her be sent for at once ! 
 
 •Db. 8. 
 
 Miw. S. 
 II. c. 
 
 FAn. 
 
 Jack. 
 
 rAOMi. 
 
 I., c. 
 
 Krux. 
 
36 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 Dr. S. My old, old friend ! rrilm yourself; we feel for you 
 
 Fau. KIi, eh 1 She is not — not (tinahle to speak.) ' 
 
 Naomi '\lets him rest upon //crV Not dead 1 
 
 Fau. No. uo ! No, no! Tliank Heaven ! {fnlis upon stool, c.) TI13 
 Heaven! Whal tlieii ? tell me. tell nje where i.s sh(; 1 
 
 Kuux. If no one rKse will s|(('ai<, 1 will I In telUn^ you of the far; 
 one of llie young ladies of the school having departed for Lnmhn, 
 Doctor omitted to mention that the iianx* of the party was that of 
 jter.son you seek — it wa.s Bella Mar.sh — or rather, your grandchild. Be] 
 Karintosh ! 
 
 I AU. {leaps at Ivnux ami grasps his throat). You lie, you dns I 
 throttle you ! I'll have your life! (.Jack releases Krtx an I helps Fa;] 
 iNTo.sH to seat, as before) It's not true — it s not true. My dear .. 
 friends, say it is not trgc. {to Naomi) My child, you speak ! 
 
 Dk. S. My dear friend, it may not !>♦> a.s had as it looks. 
 
 Fak. Ah ! I have found her but to llnd her lost ! {buries his faee in 
 hands, sobbing) Ah, ah ! {sits up, trembling) The name of the — the nu 
 the rrrrtch f You may tell me. I can hoar it now. 
 
 Kiax. Lord lieaufoy ' (Fauintosh starts as 1/ shot, and bows his ht\ 
 as if broken in body by the second biow. Jhll off k.) 
 
 Kri'X '/jrj/s I), in p. Enter Beatfot. 
 
 
 
 jit.'ii.i' 
 111!-: AT 
 
 Iai-k. 
 
 |;i.Ar. 
 
 fl-misllf 
 
 ■■I'll 
 
 ;,■ W.l 
 
 if'V 
 
 (if .1 
 hnnl II 
 
 fetch 
 
 lli!- li:'\V 
 
 \\n\h } 
 
 111!- »ll(l 
 
 ;sli. w 
 1. :l.e } 
 liiiiike u 
 
 !i(il lea 
 ' iluur h 
 
 
 [iL. Oh, 
 
 IllC 
 
 f< up c, 
 .ude of 
 Bi;aui 
 
 Krux (retires down l. ). Lord Beaufoy ! 
 
 All. Lord Beaufoy ! 
 
 Br..\L'. {off'ers hand to eneh in sueeession as he names them, hut all ^^n \\owsi 
 aloof) Ah, uncle I The Doctor I Mrs. Sutcliire ! Jack! (Kurx nifftt ]^)^i\ \ 
 his hand, but Bkaukoy d»es not even notice him.) 
 
 Dr. S. {stirnly). My Lord Boaufoy, I hlieve that you, and you alniie 
 can tell us the whereabouts of Be, la Marsh.* 
 
 Naomi {sobbing). My poor Bella! 
 
 Kkux {aside). A most improper younu person ! 
 
 Bkau. {aside). I see! {aloud) The whereabouts of Bella Marsh ? Hem 
 Yes, 1 admit that 1 know where she has been since she left here. \y Beau 
 
 Dr. S. Vou admit it, and you — {I'fts hisrane.) j^, j Lj^ 
 
 Fau. Let me talk to him. You di<l not kn<>w that my lawyer li:ii s\nyu, 
 found out that (dijfiriilly in speaking) Bella is my uiandchild ] 
 
 Beau. Your pardon. You forj^et that your lawyer is also mine. I v 
 informed of it as early as you. Plus. S. 
 
 I'ar. {dispirited). And you feared that I would leave her nil my pn» ^\^,,mi. i 
 peiiy and accomplished her ruin out of reveiiixe ■ 
 
 Bkau. Hii;u! 1 hardly understand you. When Bella left that hou 
 in London, I was iL'uorant that she was not Bella Marsh. 
 
 Fau. {quiekly). Then all can be repaired I am rieli ! 1 eannot la^ 
 lony- the will shall be in yuur tavor ! Lei me prevail upon you to marij;,..^p ; 
 
 lier 
 
 Bkau. Impossible. I am aliea(ij, married. 
 
 A LI,. Married ! 
 
 Far. Secretly ? 
 
 Bkau. Secretly, (smiles to himself.) 
 
 Fau. My punishment J My punishment ! 
 
 OiRLa. 
 
 • • • 
 
 • Fau. • 
 Mns. P. ♦ 
 ♦ Dr. 8. 
 
 • Be.\u. 
 
 .T.\eK. 
 * Naomi. 
 * Knux. 
 
 L. 
 
 )i:ai' .> 
 shiiLe 
 
 r dear B 
 III, S. '1 
 iii.s. S. 
 
 ■AU. M' 
 
 I if it h 
 i.il me. 
 
 to le; 
 I'c on \v 
 lihisho] 
 ,ei's f. 
 
 ^Ai>MI. 
 
 Kf imjly 
 
 u. C 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 37 
 
 r you- 
 
 Jatk Lord Beaufoy, from tliis nioiuoiit ends our iiilercour.se. My 
 t.'inpt /"or yon is too <\ov\> To; iill«>ianoe. 
 ]i,r,\v- -All! you'il ai»olo«j:i/i • I'ui tluil ! 
 \xcK. { firrcfl!/). Apoloyi/o! 
 
 i'.KAr. V«'s ! and liosoiry tliat you said it! (Jack of^ex up i... playing 
 
 ,„„,</(/ with his (line) I aiu a lilt!*' p.l a loss (<> undfistiiini sucli a re- 
 
 )iu)U htrt'. {^to Jack) I iliouiihi you wero u (.'yiiic, and loason^-d lliat 
 
 r,' was no act in tiiis lilV which could he of tli<' slii:hle>t coiisc^jucnce. 
 
 ^V !3rT<i,trKi:s) As lor you, what have you <:ol lo conipiain ot I the 
 
 (.•« (if a <h'iH'ndent, wlio paid by drudf^ery lor beinjr so ] I'ciia is not a 
 
 vanl now, buL has ihtMU 1 She does nol answer hells; siie rinj^s tliein ! 
 
 fetches and carries I'or nobody. And you uncle, suipri.-^e nie with 
 
 ii;i ii.'W-louud repentance ! you never let Ihe chikl's po.ssibie misery 
 
 inib vour Iranciuillily till ot late ! Is it that you want a nuise for 
 
 v:: old au'e who will not !♦ ipiirt; wayes ! As Ioiik as she was plain Bella 
 
 >li, what u)attere(l her lile ' Now thai she is found Lo be Dt lia Faiin- 
 
 ji, ihe ;;;raiidchild of the ricii I'ercy Farintosh. you would endeavor 
 
 iiiiiko uji for the neglect of the la>l twenty years I 
 
 iR. .S. (tjcitd^!/). Lovd Beaufiiv. ll.eie aie h-ilies pieseiit — yet — if you 
 
 iiDi leave — Ihouiih 1 am an old man. by Jove ! Ill conduct you to 
 
 ' duur by llie collar. (j-oUutg suuiul us of cunwijc uppnuichimj heard u., 
 
 Enter, r., proscenium e., Tilly uud iiio (iirl8. 
 
 Til. Oil, Mrs. Sulcline, there's stich a splendid carriajje coming up to 
 house. 
 (Kut'x nf(f \'CKV. I will ti<i, an<l with no need to be conducted. liuL before I go, 
 
 im' ^ 
 
 stool, 0.) Til] 
 
 >u of the far; 
 for Londoh 
 was that of 
 
 grandchild. Be 
 
 , you do^ : i 
 
 : (ini hilps Faj| 
 
 . My dear 
 
 ^1k! 
 
 ks. 
 
 •jV.v his face in <j 
 
 f the— Iho iiL 
 
 itid bows hts h( 
 
 (<»>H, hut nil iu 
 
 ■ I 
 
 and you alii;* 
 
 .Marsh f Hem 
 I here. 
 
 d? 
 <o mine. I \> 
 
 eft that hon< 
 
 f( up c, opnts D. iVi F., enter Two Footmf.n. who plnre thnusrlres . - eaeh 
 ude of c. K., in third groove set. Tian Bella, whose hand is taken by 
 Bkaufoy. 
 
 y Beaufoy. 
 E\i.!,. LadvBeaufoy! 
 uy lawyer hni ^-^..^j, \\^\\^\ 
 
 ]\:\v My wife, (to FAHTNTOsn) Your rjrandohild. (Bella is embraced 
 >• shaues hands with the prnicip.d chnracttrs* 
 Rliis. S. (emhracts Bklla) My favorite pupil, 
 r all my pu; ^^i,mi. Please pass her round ! I wari't to Ui'^s her. {einbrnces Bella) 
 lit'ar Bella ! I am so hai)py to see you ayain. 
 
 M;. S. The scene is one of real love, it (^uife reminds me of the past — 
 iJKs. S. Not of thirty-five yeas aiio. Theodore? 
 AK. My dear Arthiu', how could you be so cruel 1 
 !kac. Well, really my reception was of a nature lo make me harsh, 
 :i if it had not been by those whnm 1 thoutiht least apt lo mis\in<ler- 
 i.il me. Let it pass. In brief, the lirsi thin^. after I had induced my 
 . to leave Mrs, 8ianton's. I married her — n(»l without much reluc- 
 (' on her part. But I wanted that lo be done which not even au 
 lihisliop could tuido. Judye then of m Joy when, on calling at my 
 vol's for news ol' you. I luund that I had married my cousin. 
 »A>iMi. Yoiu' cousin 1 {puzzitd. qitickiij Of course she is your cousiu. 
 :.f' ;>//////) And cousins cf/>< marry !* Ah! that's a real comfort. 
 
 caniiol la; 
 1 vou to man 
 
 m. Dr, S. Mrs. 8. 
 
 R. O. 
 
 Bella. Far. 
 c. 
 
 Bkac. Jack. 
 u. o. 
 
 Naomi. 
 Krdk. 
 
 ) 
 
38 
 
 SCUOOL. 
 
 ■Ift 
 
 Bkad. Ami, as oiio does not yot .such ('crasioiis often in life— I 
 have wanto 1 lo prove you. {s/tckcs hands inth thv Hutcmkkks.) 
 
 Bki.. {to Naomi). Vou imisl oouu; ami .spcml llie liolitlays wiili u, 
 
 Nao.mi. VeM. ami u»? will look at all your new lliiiiys Logetlier \ (. 
 pits It IJklla, (III I liiricfs Uei-la'.s iincuUoii to Jack.) 
 
 BKii. I a:n ^o^l■y lo liuve caus'.'l you anxiety ami trouble, my \Vi. 
 frieniU. 1 would have lold vou all ; but when 1 wanted to write. 
 lord 
 
 Ukau. Ah ! Arthur ! 
 
 liKii. Air.hur would insist upon my silance. 
 
 !)'{. S W.'ll, thi^ end ciowns tin' work. 
 
 Miis. S Well said, D.)cior. But. 1 alway.s knew that your desi 
 (einhr^rrn l{|.;i;t.A) would be a liii^h one. 
 
 Jack [in i{;;\u.). I ask your jiardon. 
 
 Naomi. I'iiats ri:4ht. 
 
 iJiiAU. {I'ltiifhimj). I lold you that you would be sorry for wlmi 
 said. 
 
 Bkl. (of(')'8 Kiiux her hand.frunldij). Mr. Krux, I am sure thai 
 wish in; every hajipiness ? 
 
 Kuux. Kvery hai»pines>, Mis.s IJtdla. (' m/f/cs lowly.) 
 
 Naovii (t'lrfli/). Miss Bt'Ila ! And ke«'pin:^ your hat on when youi 
 addressiuu! Lidy Beaufoy! 
 
 Kkux. U't/c's iiif kit ami bows low) I bei^ your pardon, Lady Bt'au; 
 
 Dii. S. Mr K nx, if you would lik<' to take your usual walk, di 
 lei a!iy regard toi- ii.s de[)iive you of that pleasure ! 
 
 K«i;x. Tnank you, Doctor, (r/or.s up v., takes his hat ajf and bows to'. 
 
 l>. in fJ 
 
 Foo I'MK.W.) 
 
 Nao.mi. Jack, do vou love mo ? 
 Jack. Devo ■ 
 
 [I-xit, 
 
 Naomf. Yes, I know I Then ruu after Mr. Kiiix, and give 1 
 irashin^. 
 Jack. Witb pleasure. 
 
 [Krit, liisnrdij, i». 
 
 iitJ 
 
 in tl 
 
 Enter, u., i)rosccniam v.., all the Girls, precided by Milly, tvho reads i 
 
 book in her hand. 
 
 Miii. (yoini^ up r. a little, reads). ' When they came back fioin 
 weddini^, Cinderella fjave her sisters each a palace to livi? in, ami 
 soon afterwards inirriel n ililenieu of tho court. Ami she and the pnj 
 lived a liap|>y life forever afterwards."* 
 
 Naomi. Oh I it's just like the story. Here's th^ prince ! and Iho 
 ria;»e — ami (/'>j/i.\s '<Mjiui,.s, laaijhiniily) the onvious sisters! and — (' 
 up painpki'i. U., ant yon up to Foot.MAN, holds up puaipkin) who wi 
 ever think that this could crow into that ! (puts down pumpkin vp r. 
 
 Fak (lauyhinf/). If this is the fairy-tale, what am 1 1 
 
 Naomi, (foaiin/ down, c ) Vou are the {fodinother. 
 
 Bkau. Kuowinn my wifes taleit for fairy narratives, T have brui 
 her souieihiiiLj which could only lu presented on this spot. 
 
 Bkl. Oh! another piesent ! 
 ■JVll [as Bkaui'oy discovers what he holds). A pair of ylass sli^jpersl 
 
 Mil. Oh, how nice ! 
 
 •nini.8. 
 
 Mrs. R. 
 
 
 Mii.i.v, 
 
 Dit. S. 
 
 Fab. 
 
 I'n.LV. 
 
 Naomi. 
 
 
 B. 
 
 n. c. 
 
 a. 
 
 Bulla. 
 
 Beau. 
 
ACT IV, 
 
 Enter, n. tn p., Jack. 
 
 Naomi {to Jack). Did you do iLl 
 
 Jack. Ves, , 
 
 N.\()Mi. Tlioroujzhly ? 
 
 Jack, lie said 1 did. 
 
 F.vK. V<'ii see hi)\v t,'t)()tl thoughts {jenninaie.into fjreat dp*»dH. 
 
 l)K. .S. lint tlie .seed must lali oa the m'liial {jrouiid. Your nophf\v> 
 aiiiip is notably a ii''»';it oiio. Ho is above all, a true •jeulieiuaii, Lliaii 
 
 Inch there is no liner thing in tlie world. 
 
 Fai;. 1 be;; your paidon. Tlieie ia a tiiier. 
 
 Da. S. Wliat is that.' 
 
 Fau. a true lady. 
 
 Dr S. Aye. But then, {fflancin;; at Mu.s. S. ) to the making up of lliat, 
 hero iimst 2<» so many exceHeuees that the combiialion is rare. There 
 DU>t be intelligence. 
 
 F,K. Virtue. 
 
 I»H. S. Birtli. 
 
 Fau. Good breeding. 
 
 Dr S. Courage. 
 
 Far. Honor. 
 
 Miis. S. And above all, School, {all form picture."^ 
 
 FooT.MK.V 
 
 ♦ ♦ 
 
 Girls.* . za . < 
 
 Laura.* jJ 2 :^, ri 
 
 TiLLV.* 
 
 -: ? 1^' 
 
 < < :i, 
 
 ci C5 :*, ;^; ^ 
 
 ******* 
 
 ♦GiRL.S. 
 * llETTr. 
 ♦MiLLY. 
 
 lELLA in seited, c, opkI Bkaukoy kneels on one knee to put on her //«? <jl<isn 
 slippers. T/te nt/iers Ion/: at (liix cit/re t/>uup, except J ACK ninl N\oM(, 
 wfto luuk (U tueh ot/nr, 
 
 Mn»ic, the Piratet' Chut'im, " Tl»e KnchantresiS." 
 
 CURTAiy. 
 
 STAOK Dm EC rwxR 
 
 It. TiK.'aiiH Rii?ht of Stnt^o, facin;? tho Auflicnci' ; I... Tx-ft ; (\ CentTO ; R. C. Richt 
 I'tiitri'; Im. <". Left of Ct'iitro. D. F. IhMir iii tlx- Fl:it, or Swiir riumiii:.' m in** 
 
 kUa-kof tho Statue; (\ I). F. (Y-nfro Door in tin; Flat ; II. D. F. Hijrlit I»-M.r in 
 
 M I hit ; L. ('. F. I^>ft DiM.r in thu Flat ; It. I). Ki^jbt Door ; I.. I). > *n lJ,M,r ; 1 K. 
 
 ir-t F.ntnmcf, 2 K. Second Eutriincc ; \J. IC. TrpiH-T Entrunc- ; I, Jur3U, First, 
 
 1 (Hill or Third Groove. 
 
 n. r. c. !,.(■. I,, 
 
 tkJT The rcadci' i;i supixKicd to be upon thu Stage faciui; the uudicuce. 
 
 I, 
 ■i 
 
i 
 
 !l 
 
 in 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 SYXOPSIS. 
 
 TtTK first not opons with ft woml srono, discovorini? th(» femaln wcholarB nttf^r. ; 
 Hi) "Colif^o ll'jux'," on„':i«<'<l 111 li.st''uiii^' to the story of CiadcroUa, rial t: 
 1iu.ik by Bklla, h cliaiity HLMolar uii'l an oipli.ia of ua'.;iio\vn puri'iiis Tiio 1' 
 jnls, L)f. :iml Mi.i. Sitclifkj:, uiiu r in llu' inildL of ft ui.sviussioa as to wl.at Li,. 
 T.K' \M- lanfic but kind-lieurtcd j)r<'Ct'i>tor vainly oiideiivora to ^ivn a dc-diii iomi 
 tunder pas.iiou, alter wiiicli tiie (;irLi ijiws otf the 8lai?u, wlicu Kuux, a hyiKjcn 
 uudor toacinT, makoa Ids apixaruiicc II" t'lieountfrs Bkli.a, wlio liasrtlun. 
 oblaiu ^lr'^ Suxclifk.'s ovorshot!-*, proposri niurriiitfc to \n'V aud in iudinuunily 
 jectod. Shortly aft4;r Loud Beadkoy and .Iack I'ovntz enter uikju the k-; 
 enjoy a yiHirtsmaii's breakfast, at wliich they are joiuod by rAKiNiofH, a euj.i 
 nuate<I lM>au, wlio urpes upon his lordship, who islikowLso hisneplicw and lieira;; 
 ent, the propriety of nianyin^ Naomi Tioiik, au orplmned \\'cy,\ Indian l.-rr 
 then at the mij^hborini,' school, whioh proixj-a' tlie notileraan i-esolutoly ri;i. 
 Bklla, flyinj»froin au infiiriatcl bull, chasinK her und Naomi, drops otm of her .-U 
 whie': i:< picked up by Bkaifoy. Tlio bull is shot by I'iy^tz, who thereby mi, 
 the acipiniutauce of Naomi, wiiilo Ids lordship bocomes enamored of Bella. 
 scooul ac'. , wliich can bo Hupprcs^ol as an episode, Himply Rivos a school «.x:im: 
 tiiMi, at teuded by the Br.\r, Bi:Ai;Knv und Poyntz. Tin; lliinl act is devotttl tc 
 ncfi lontal meeting of Bklla arid Beaufoy, and of Naomi and Toyniz. i in- i.- 
 iti lul;n' in .1 mooulijjht stroU, ,sei)arately i:i the course of which BeaL'*'OY pres-: 
 Bella with a riu?. The walk anl iutorviyw is watched by Knux who reports i 
 his principals, in consequence of which the charity pupil is banished the si lioo!. 
 period of hix weeks elapses, durin;- the course of whieli BeaO rABiNioHH is taktc 
 and lies .ilinoiit at; tiio |x)iut of death Ipou recovery, lio learns Bell v to It 
 daughter of his only son, and poes to tlie school to cliim her as liis heiress and ijnu 
 child. In the garden he encounters BoYNrz, who is elandestinely visi;in«: N.\ ic 
 charged by her wi!h the orr:\nd ots-ekin? tidiutfs as to tlie diiKippearanct; of L- 
 scliool-girl friend. FAiiiNTOsn oxjicrienc'sinlonse di-sapmiintmcnt at the unwelcon 
 expulsion of his newly-found ut I'ldc lil 1. wli'ii Loi:i> Bi.aufoy app< ars andexj! 
 that she has eloped at hi.s solicituion. Ilia moives and tiieir eonsequtnces an n. 
 construed until Bella ivturus arnont? lior former schoolmates, and fs unnouncul 
 I-Ai)Y BEArFOY, whereupon the play closes with the i)re.sentation, by his lordsliip, 
 ti pair of glass slij>i>t'rs to his bride, thus practically terminating tht- atory of Ciu'! 
 ella, witli the narrutiou of which the comedy commenced. 
 
NCholara attcn 
 rella, real fr ,; 
 i.-a;a Tlie Viv 
 lui lo wLat l- 
 a dclini inu 
 H!X, a Kyixjci 
 
 lO huH IltUrt:' 
 
 I ia iudiKuunilT:: 
 uimu the k. : 
 
 NTOf H, a BU[ . 1 
 
 cw ami iK'ir;:; 
 js! Indian !;ti; 
 resolutely nil. 
 [)H otm of her ^i^j 
 ho thereby 
 d of Bella. 
 I scliiKtl ..x.im. 
 ct is devoted t(. ■ 
 
 lYNIZ. 'ih«' \t,' 
 
 IU:AUiOX j)res' 
 
 who reports i: 
 
 hed the bi hnol. 
 
 INTOHH is tukiD 
 
 1 Bulla to be 
 heiress iintl u'lir. 
 y ^isi!in«^ N.\ 
 ippearanc<; of k 
 fit the unwtlojr 
 
 ars and ex I ! 
 eqntnooH an n. 
 
 1-- iiiiiiounrK; J 
 ly his lordsliip. 
 
 fltory of Ciu'! 
 
 A HAPPY PAIB 
 
 (|u ©njiual CDiiuiitlla, 
 
 IN Om AQT. 
 
 «T 
 
 8. THEYRE SMITH, 
 
 TiONDON : 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 PXTBLISHEB, 
 
 •9, STBAKD. 
 
 New York : 
 SAMUEL FRENCH k U*?^ 
 
 PUBLIfl"KBS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET 
 
 .-^j> 
 
A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 Ftrat performed at the St. James's TJieatre (under ih 
 Management of Misa Ilcrhert,) March 2, 1868. 
 
 OHAIIACTERS. 
 Mb. SoNEriON ... Mr. W. Farren. 
 Mrs. Uoneyion • • • Miss Herbert. 
 
 Co-stumos of tUo day. 
 
 Time in performance — Forty minutes. 
 
 I'liOrERTlKS. — Two nnwppapors, some Icitcrs in envelopes, 
 nml roses foi* ^fr. Iloiicytoii — fire in fire-place— breaks 
 fast laid for two- yav of honey— books and ornameutg ou 
 
A HAPPY PAIR/ 
 
 SCENE. — A hr.'nJifist room eIr/jantJi/ furnislieil — Ireah' 
 fdH on the ttihle at n., Jlrcplaco al biich in Ihe ccntrt 
 Large window^ L., sofa n., iuhh l. c. door$ n. u# b. ani 
 
 L. 2 E. 
 
 i^n/t,'>* Mr8. HoNEYTOy. 
 
 Thoro, Fcvclinand'a not down yet! How late ho is. IVt 
 had sorao bruakfast, tor I was so hungry I could wait no 
 loiif^cr — written two letters, been twice mund the garden, 
 aiui gathered tbeso roses on purpose lor him. {iahis some 
 ihrcad from a wor/:-ho.c and bojins to tic them together') 
 There was a time, five months ago, when ho used to give 
 me bouquets and not I him. That was before we were 
 married, of course. There seom3 to bo some dreadful 
 principle in human nature, some horrid law, that the 
 man must pay the attentions before marriage and the 
 woman afterwards ; and the men have the best of the 
 liaigain, too. for I am sure in my most coquettish moods 
 I never recci^od Ferdinand's attentions, then, with a 
 hundredth part the coldness with which ho receives mine 
 now. O, there's been a sad falling off in him, a sad 
 falling off, a gradual decadence, a decline and fall in his 
 affections like a thermometer in an incroasi^ig frost. 
 There! (JiohUnj up the boiipid) Don't they look nice 
 
 * Tho AuMiorwislios it to bo distinctly nndoratood that "A Ilappy 
 Pair," tii published in Now York, bv Mr. Dewitt, is a mere Ainorican 
 adaptation of tho proaont pieoe. tfc* incidenta generally arfl closely 
 followed, but the dialogue is marrcl and mangl^ in so shamelesi u 
 failiion, that it becomes u question which is the more unjustitiablo, tho 
 theft of the title and incidenta, or the libel upon the Aatkur, implied is 
 putting hia name upou the title pagou 
 
A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 now they're tied togi^thor? How beautifully tlioy liar- 
 inoniHO ! (), the liappy lluwers, that don't chaii<;o their 
 tint and becoiiio something' quite dillurcnt direotly thoy'io 
 coupled, lis human creatuies too often do direetly //« v'/v 
 tied to^'cther — I'icasant (lowers that can be united in this 
 way without all harmony bcin^ lost, ihit I won't think 
 of our union, LVnly'sand mine, in this melaneholy fashion 
 Perhaps he's only ft litllo put out about something — [ 
 will still be cheerful, and happy, and lovinj^, and in time 
 ho mubt come round nj^ain, and bo as nice and allVe. 
 tionato ns ever, Our bfo shall not bo so unlike the 
 llowors but that it shall bo still conh ur Je rosv; if a 
 woman's love can mako it io. And he's quite a darling; 
 after all. O, (Inniinj to Hut table) here are the Icttcr.v 
 Let me see {looL'uxj at tJicm one afdr the other) For 
 Ferdy, IYmiIv, Ferdy, mo, Ferdy. There they nro all 
 ready for him with tho ro.sea a-top of them ; and there's 
 his chair (pns'Jiliiif (in ca^ij chair fo the tahlt')^ and there's 
 his footstool ('/(I'iiirf it an aifcctionate i>at)y and there are 
 the newspapers, so now for my letter. O from Florence, 
 of coui'so (opriis if) with a few lines from Kitty too. Now 
 then, Florei;co first. — "Own precious darling oi' a Con. 
 stance" — dear afl'eetionato girl — "just returned from our 
 tour in Spain — Spain is the most beautiful " — 'm — 'm— 
 *m — O it must 1 e lovely 'm — 'm — 'm — O how charming 
 *m — 'm — 'm — Ha, ha, ha! just fancy — 'm — 'ra — 'm— 
 " tell you more when we meet. I will come and stay with 
 you as soon as you like — give my lovo to Ferdinand, and 
 believe mo" — ah, the dear girl. " P.8. I picture to myself 
 your perfect bliss with Ferdinand, my heart tells me that 
 you are indeed a happy pair." (saillij) Does it tell you 
 true ? (ijaili/) O, of course, yes, yes. Now for Kitty. 
 *' Dearest Con. I have only time for three lines. I saw 
 your last letter to Flo : and I am sure you are not happy." 
 What! Fm certain 1 never said so — " gather this generally 
 from your note." I detest people who gather things 
 generally. " Now, darling Con., this unhappiness can only 
 spring from one cause, your husband — married unhappi- 
 ness ahvaj's does spring from that one cause, the husband. 
 I need not pause to tell you that I have felt cortaimfrom 
 
A nAPt»t PAlft. 
 
 I 
 
 wic firsfc tliafc yoar Ferdinand, whom, aa yon may re- 
 nitrnbor, I did not rejoice at your marrying — '* (No ! she 
 wauled to marry him herself) " — that your Ferdinand 'm 
 — 'm — would turn out a tyrant, a brute, but let mo en- 
 trrat you to crush anything of that kind at once. 
 Directly he shows tlie cloven-foot, stamp upon it. Prompt 
 resistance is the only thing. HoM tho mirror up t<j his 
 tyrannical nature by treating him exactly as ho troata 
 you. By our long friendship I beseech you, l)y our 
 sistcrlj affection, hy all your hopes of happiness, don't be 
 bullied " — (underlined dreadfully) ; " but bo moat careful 
 nut to let him suspect that you have been instigated to this 
 course by anyone, and as you love me, darling Con., don't 
 relax until he's quite subdued." But I don't love her after 
 Buch a letter* — it's shameful, positively shameful. Try- 
 ing to sow discord between husband and wife. I forget 
 my duty and my love ? I — Oh Kitty, I couldn't have 
 believed it of you. (going as if fo tear it) No ! tcaring'a 
 not bad enough, {walking i)i'ompthj to the Jire-placc) It 
 deserves burning by tho hangman, (jniusing) No ! I 
 won't burn it yet — I'll — I'll — Hero comes Ferdinand! 
 Perhape, I'll show it him. (puts letter in her pocket.') 
 
 Enter Mr. Hoxkyton, l. d. Ho comes surlily to tho front. 
 
 Mrs. H, Well, dear, (/io walks across to the window) 
 Well, my love, (he looks up at the shj) Breakfast's quite 
 ready, my darling. (Jie yawns tremendously) What will 
 you have ? {he pokes the fire) There are your letters, 
 Fcrdy dear. 
 
 HoxKY. (grunts) Oh ! (tosses the roses into the slop-hasiti 
 and taJces up the hdters) 
 
 Mrs. H. O, Ferdy, I gathered those roses for you 
 myself, and got my feet so wet walking through the 
 dewy grass. Ye.s, I did, though somebody used to tell 
 me onco that my foot was so light it wouldn't brush the 
 dew off a daisy. 
 
 HoNRY. (coldly) What a fool somebody must have 
 been — once. 
 
 Mrs. H. (playfully) Why, my darling, you used to 
 lay SO before we were married, you know. 
 
 'I 
 
f 
 
 A HAPP7 PAIR. 
 
 H«»VET. Have I ever said so ^iuce wo were married ? 
 
 Mrs. H. I don't think you have, indeed. 
 
 HoNKY. Very well, then. It's plain I've repccted of 
 the falsehood, so you needn't throw that in my faco 
 again. 
 
 Mrs. H. Why, my own Nandy didn't think I meant to 
 reproach liira. No, no {risinj and going towards him with 
 the roses) let me put it in his button hole (^taking hold of 
 his coat) and ■ 
 
 HoNKY. Constance, for goodness' sako don't paw rao 
 about. Will you have the kindness to give me a cup of 
 tea, and not play the fool? I do very positively 
 decline to be dressed out with flowers like a maypole, or 
 a ritualistic church at Christmas-time. 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside) 0, he's crosser than ever to-day. 
 (povrs out tea and gives it him) Won't you eat anything, 
 love? 
 
 noN«:Y. O, no, don't bother me to eat. Mayn't I even 
 have my own appetite to myself ? I abominate having 
 my meals forced down my throat as if I were a con- 
 founded cannon. 
 
 Mns^ H. (sitting down and sipping tea) I've had a letter 
 from Florence Hayland, dearest. ( i pauso) Such a de- 
 lightful letter. Shall I read you some of it ? (he takes 
 up another letter) Shall I, Ferdy ? You were so fond of 
 Florence, yon know, (a pause) Shall I read it, Nandy ? 
 (he opens his letter — she rcad.-t) " ]My own precious darling 
 of a Constance — " 
 
 Honey, (to himself) Oh, Gibson's found me a pair of 
 horses at last. 
 
 Mrs, H. Did you speak, doar ? (continuing) " Wo have 
 just returned from our tour in Spain. Spain is quite 
 the? most, beautiful country you ever beheld. Tho land, 
 scapes are of the most gorgeous colours, being princi* 
 pally •• 
 
 >ioNEY. (to Imisclf) " Coal black," eh ? 
 
 Mrs. H. (to him^ VVhat, dear? (a pause — she continues) 
 "Tho pastures extending in rich luxuriance for mileSf 
 l-^veall " 
 
 HoNBre ('o hinmlf) " Been fired." Hum I 
 
» 
 
 A HAPPY PAIR. 7 
 
 Mn?. il. " A. id tho monntains nro nono of them " 
 
 IIoNKY. (to hinisrlf) "Less tlifiii sixtceii hinds hij^h." 
 
 Mns. II. (/o liiin) Kh, lovo ? (reads) "Tho people are 
 voiy curious. All tJic men hove " 
 
 Honey, (to himself) " Stringh.ilt slightly." Don't like 
 that. 
 
 Mns. H. (fo him) No, dear, of courso not. And just 
 li.,tt'n to this, (reads) " All the women go abo^it with 
 
 HoNKY. (to himself) " One white stocking en the near 
 hiiul leg." 
 
 Mrs. H. (to him) What did you say, love? (a pause) 
 Isn't it a strange country, Fcrdy ? And thcr* she say.s — 
 oil, here — " I vill come and stay with yoi as long as 
 ever you like. Give my lovo to Ferdinand, and ■ ■ " 
 
 HoxKY. What's that you're reading? 
 
 ^[i?s. H. Florence Hayland's letter, dear ? 
 
 Honey. And what docs she say about coLiing to stay ? 
 
 Mrs. H. That she will come as soon as C7cr we like, 
 BO I'll write ut once and tell her 
 
 Honey, Not to come. 
 
 Mrs. H. What, Ferdy P 
 
 IIi)NEY. Tell her not to come. 
 
 !Mrs. H. O, Ferdy, and you used to like her so. 
 
 Honey. Do you understand mo? — tell her not to 
 come. 
 
 Miis. H. But, my dear, after inviting her so warmlj 
 
 IIoNEY. You must put her off warmly, too, of course. 
 Bo as affectionato as you Itko by lettoi' — gcxnlneas knows 
 you've affectionato terms enough at your command. 
 
 ^Irs. H. But you promised at our marriage, you know, 
 tliat she should conic 
 
 Honey. Oh, mitrriago promises go for nothing. 
 
 Mns. H. (vi prime h fully) Do they ? 
 
 Ho\KY. V/hy, don't they ? You promised tooboy,yott 
 know, but it seems you nc^ver meant it. 
 
 iMns. H. Oh, Ferdinand, I lid und I do. 
 
 lIoNEV. Then obey. 
 
 Mng. JI. Whatevei you direct, of courflo — I'll write at 
 cr.co (exit J torroKfully, i,. door 
 
 Mo.NKY. S(;arcely £iur, pp^baps, tliut last msiauatiou oi 
 
 i 
 
 ,1 
 
 I 
 
 B—Mww B — ra w 
 
8' A BAPP7 PAIR. 
 
 mino. She docs the lovo and ohoy bii.sinesa io llio lottoi 
 — tco much a great deal. Siinplr sickens mo with it. 
 (riachiufj across the iuhli;) Ha, a lly got into tho honey! 
 What ! you vould go in for .sweats, sir, would you ? llow 
 do you like it now, eh ? Souit'thincr too mui.-h of this, I 
 fancy. Look at tho ytoor wretch, all glnod up together, 
 log tied to leg and wing to wing, as vainly trying to 
 move easily and naturally in his sweet bondage, as a 
 married man, confound it ! Ha, ha ! I can sympathi.so 
 with you, sir — I understand your feelings perfectly. 
 What am I but a mi.scrable lly in the matritn)nial honey, 
 pot? Upon my soul, this perpetual billing and cooing 
 like a couple of confounded doves — this everlasting 
 pigeon English, a.s tho Chinaman says, of dears and pets, 
 and sweets and darlings, is worryiijg mo steadily and 
 smely to an early grave. Its all very well when one's 
 <?.()urting, and, for, say a week, ])erhaps, after marriage— 
 /)ut to drag all this sweet staff into your everyday life, 
 to suppose that a mail's ordinary oxistenco is to be for 
 ever garnished with loves and <!•) !•>, and bPsses and 
 ki.sscs ! — 'gad, you might as w«Il provision a campaign- 
 ing ari^ with Kverton toffeo ! Pah, I must have a 
 cigar to take the sweet taste out of my mouth. ^Fy vital 
 Kjjark can't stand this much longer. Where the dickens 
 arc my weeds? Faith, if this sort of thing is to go on, 
 the next <jueslion will be — where are hm-s f Oh, for a 
 tittio spirit, a littlo resistance even ; a little less troftol* 
 and a littlo more— 
 
 Entt'i- Mas Hoxevtox, t.. d<x^r^ 
 
 Constance, where's my cignr-caso ? 
 
 Mhs. H. Hero darling, on tho \»i,Mitclpi(H><v. Shall I 
 pick one out for my own Nandy ? 
 
 HoN'KY. (to audu'ucr) Nandy ! My namo*a ¥Vrvliunnd, 
 you know ! 
 
 Muh, H. And shall I light it for him. a.s I used totU^? 
 
 HoNKV. (f^y irnhntce) Oonfound it! {J iirioudt^) Wul 
 you give me thoso weeds V 
 
 Mns. H. (hi a8toni'sh}}f'^}tt) ¥in\\y\ 
 
 HoNKY. Fe?dy now. Pii^^e take it, Q(;?nstancei> mu&t mj 
 
A HAPPY PAIB. 
 
 poor name ft! ways cither drop it3 tail like a tadpole, or 
 lose its head as if it li:id boon guiUy of li^ jl trcaaoii ? 
 Must it always como limpiiif,' iuUt tho worlt, with only 
 half its mcmboffs about it like tho statno in fjcicester- 
 bqiiiiro ? 
 
 Mils. 11. A few months ac^o my Ferdinand would not 
 have spoken to his Constance in thi^^ cruel — cruel way. 
 
 IIoNKY. My Ferdinand! I don't know Mrs. lloneyton 
 whether you arc do.si<^nedly insula iiijr^ mo by spcakin'^' of 
 me a.s if I were some one else a rrvcnt distance oil", by 
 utterly i^norinp^ my presence in your itnniedi:ito ueiijfh- 
 hourhood, but let me tcil you that it is a fi<^urativ'c way 
 of cuttinp^ mc dead in my own house wlii^'h annoys mo 
 excessively ; do you understand ? — which "^unoys mo 
 ixeossively. ^ 
 
 Mus. H. Very well, dear Ferdinand, — Fll not do it 
 a^'iiin — I'll try to recollect. 
 
 Jlo.vnv. (ast'df) Still treacle ! Linked swcet!i-»;H long 
 drawn out. 
 
 (lentint/ hini'i'lf, L. ; she stands at tahio, c, h<'hi.) 1 him. 
 
 Mils. IF. Feidiiiand ! (no answer) Ferdinand! (no 
 aii-u'ii') Ferdinand ! 
 
 H(»VKV. (i')Kiifiiig thorn on his fin jcra) Ye.s, now Fm 
 curious to know how lonj? you intend to «?o on repofi^i!v.f 
 my name as if you were some eccentric ghost in a h:iuutod 
 h MifaO. That'rt tlireo times. 
 
 Mas. H. I was trying to fittract your attention as I 
 wi>,lnd U) ask you a qoi.stion— — 
 
 iloN'KV. ile <j'.iiek tin-;. ]>'(':i.>.u; my rigur's waiting. 
 
 Mas. II. Why did yon marry me, Ferdiuand 'r 
 
 HoNKY Ha ha! e'a ! 
 
 Mas. H. \Vliy dnl you marry mo? 
 
 IfoNi.Y. W'liy did r mar y yon ? ha. ]»a ! (»•*'•«'''"/) Oh, 
 you showed soili.^tiiHitly that you wished it — {s'rolliiij to. 
 I'-frds the (too,) — th;U I did it — (xfrihi.i'j a w I'l-li) — 'j))n 
 my Word, merely to oblige you; merely to oblige ytm, 
 by Jove ! (e^i* di*»tf l. 
 
 Mas. If. (xtartiug up) It'g Mt true — it's — it's — M 
 tiroadliil .story. To oblige mo' vrhf n be beg'/ed and 
 prayed with tears in his eyes tluU I'd \/\ty kim ; when ho 
 «^ent dow;i un his knees on tl>e gravel waH^ ioo^iiig m 
 
 I f 
 
10 
 
 A HAPPT PAIR. 
 
 ridiculous but such a darling, and vowed ho couldn't live 
 without mc; when ho talked nlx)ut early graves and 
 blighted hopes, and blew first hot and tlun cold, riiving 
 now of fires and then of frosts, his poor Iieait nlwiiys 
 at one end of the thermometer or the other, iill — till— 
 and all to oblige mo ! It's a dreadful story. I've spoiled 
 him. I've killed his love for mo, as an over careful mother 
 may kill her children, by too much cherishing. I lon^'ed 
 to make my love the sunshine of his life, and now I find 
 tho weeds have grown and not the flowers. O dear Kitty, 
 thanks, thanks for your timely letter. As my aifeution only 
 repels him, I'll try what coldness and disdain will do. 
 I'll tako a leaf out of his book that shall make him de- 
 test hia whole library: I'll pay him back in his own coin 
 till he cries out for a reform in tho currency. I'll be 
 *rodden on no longer without a struggle. The worm has 
 turned at last, tho worm has turned, (reti'lh)/ tho. Icth ,> 
 fuimonati'ly) •' I have felt certain from the first that your 
 Ferdinand would turn out a tyrant . entreat you to cru.sli 
 anything of that kind at onco . . directly ho shows tho 
 cloven foot, stamp upon it . . by our long fr'<Midship, by 
 cur sisterly aflVction, by all your hopes of happines.s, 
 don't bo bullied." I'll try it, I will try i^:, but only for a 
 short time. If it should fail, I will return submi.ssively 
 lo my duty ; bi.t if Kitty's piau should succeed, I'll— ^I'll 
 give her — oh, I'll give her such a bracelet. It in rt do- 
 licato game I am going to play but surely I cannot lo.so, 
 as 1 am playing ftu* love — only for love. (IIoxky oitt- 
 aiihh.v. !•:. " Wiiillius.") There bo's coming. Can I do it? 
 Yes, I will. Farewell my alfection for a short time (with 
 a loving look loicurds tho door) ; my lovo puts on its mask 
 and — (chawjiu'j her ccprcssionsuddaiili/)^ — Now I'm ready. 
 (seats herself at writituj-tallv^ n.) 
 
 Enter lln. IIoxkytox, door i.., wearing a wide-awalce hat. 
 
 HoNRY. Wiiifrins! confound it! where's WhifTins? 
 Tlio groy raaro has got loosu aiul there's not a groom to 
 be seen about tho place. Provoking being interrupted 
 in one's weed in this way — wiioro's VVhidlns, d'you hear. 
 
 Mfis. H. It'i not my phico to know whoro WhilBns it. 
 
A flAPPy PAIR. 
 
 11 
 
 fl 
 
 HoNKY. (uulh a ho7c of some gurprisr) It'a your place 
 to know where everything is that yonr husband wants. 
 
 ;Mim. IJ, Then I ought to know whoro his manners 
 nro, for ho wants them woefully. 
 
 lIoNKY. What do you moan Mm. IToneyton ? 
 
 Mrs. II. Tako off your hat, sir, when you enter a room 
 vihvYO your wife is sitting. 
 
 lIoNKy. (aghast) Upon my life tlie grey marc 7ms got 
 loose indeed (asuh — after a movirut removes his hat) 
 
 ^Jns. 11. (asl'lo) Oh, how a.stoni.shcd he looks jwor 
 darling. There he has — bless you, Kitty. 
 
 llo.vKY. («cvcrihj) Constance, I lind sumo difScnlty in 
 nndprstandiii"^ 
 
 Mrs. 11. The candour of that confession is tho only 
 part of it likely to surpri.sc any one who know.^ you. 
 
 JfoNi:Y. Do you remember to whom you're speaking ? 
 
 Mj»s. H. Distinctly. It doesn't follow that I musfe 
 forfjfet you because you so constantly forget yourself. 
 
 Honey. Don't reply to me in that way. 
 
 ^Ins II. Don't speak to mo in that way, then. 
 
 Honey. Speak to you ! must I remind you onco more 
 that it is for you to obey ; that that's in tho marriage 
 Bcrvice ? 
 
 Mrs. II And must I 
 
 IIoNKY. Hold your tongue, madam. 
 
 ^fns. II. Piirdon mo! (n\<iiig qmcJclij and curtsey iuf) 
 tliat's NOT in tho marriMge service. 
 
 lIoNKY. (asi'Jr) Confound it! How — liow abominably 
 — pretty she looks, llut of conrse this nnist not be sub- 
 iiMtled to (jalotiil) Constanro I 
 
 Mrs. II. (J'or<j<i/tii>j) Yes, dear, {as ho titnis sharply) 
 Well, nir. 
 
 HiiNKY. Mrs. Honeyt.on, T am unable to account for 
 your most cxhfiordinarj beluwionr. Let me tell yoa 
 Constance, thnt i]\v duty of a wile 
 
 iMas. H. Now look here, sir? I won't bo lectured — I 
 tiitnply won't be lectured, so you're only wasting your 
 hrcr.th. I'm sick of your sermons; yonr eternal preachco 
 ~ preach ec. Why, I n)ight M well ImYO boon married 
 to a Low Chuioii curate. 
 
 I 
 
13 
 
 A BAPP7 PAIit. 
 
 HoN£T. I wish to gooducsu you had boeii| thooi to any. 
 body but mo. 
 
 Mrs. H. Wondciful ! wo think alike for onco. 
 
 Honey. What ! Do you mean to say that you regret 
 your marringo with mc ? 
 
 ]^^ns.II. And if I did say so, have I dono anything but 
 imitato you ? And if I imitate you, of couiso 1 muut be 
 right. 
 
 Honey. Oh, you flatter mc, ma'am. 
 
 Mks. H. Just 60 J imitation, they say, is the sincerost 
 flattery. 
 
 HoxEY. Well, Constance, I never expected to heart' is 
 from your lips. 
 
 !Miis. H. No ! Why it must have been quite a pleasant 
 surprise. * 
 
 Honey. Take care, ma'am, take care ; you're playing 
 ft dangerous game and may make a mistake. 
 
 Mas. H. I've not in this case, at any rate, fof Jidu't I 
 follow my partner's lead ? 
 
 Honey. But suppose it was alia joke, Mrs: Uoncyton? 
 
 !Mrs. H. What sir, your marriage ? 
 
 HoNKY. No, by gad! that was no joke; there was 
 nothing to laugh at in that, 
 
 Mas. H. But it doesn't follow that you didn't intends 
 joke because there was nothing iu it to laugh at, you 
 know, Mr. Honeyton. 
 
 Honey, (aaidc) How confounded sharp she if.i, blosa 
 her — I mean hang her; I mean— (rt/oja?) Why will you 
 pervert every syllable that comes out of my mouth ? You 
 change the meaning cf my words — - 
 
 ^Ina. H. Well, any change in them must bo for the 
 better, that's one comfort. 
 
 Honey. Change! I can tell j'ou there's such a thing aa 
 giving bad change for a good sovereign. 
 
 Mns. H. And what reprcrents the good af^vereign, sir, 
 if yo>i please ? 
 
 Honey. The affection that pours from my lips, ma'am 
 —the undcbased currency of sincere love— the undipped 
 money of devoted aitachmcnt. All this is— — 
 
 Mjm. H. The mere worthies! coinago of your brain. 
 
A HAPPT PAIR. 
 
 13 
 
 Attempt to recall ono affectionate word of your uttering 
 tliis mornlnjj — one — ono thrcojUMiny piece, even, of 
 siuccro love — ono sinj^lo coin wliicli will not rin:^ falno 
 and deserve to bo nuiled to the counter as a warning 
 to bad hubbands. 
 
 lioxKY. (a^ide) it striked mo I'm getting the worst 
 of it. 
 
 Mas. II. No, sir; tho circulating medium of your 
 ftffection is any tin ng but a golden mean, and tho noted of 
 your lovo-langun^'-o are drawn on the bank of Inelegance. 
 
 IIo.NKV. Mrn. Jloncyton, it is useless prolonging this 
 un&eemly bandying ol: words, lor nio to sot my wit 
 Kgainst u woman's would bo cowardly, to arguo with 
 lur absurd. Wit and argument in my cq^o are quite 
 out of place. 
 
 ]M:js. II. And so they ought to be, considerir<» what 
 ^lu)ckingly bad scrvanls Ihry'vo been to you in the 
 present instance. However I'll relievo you, for a time, 
 of my deteslcd presence. 
 
 HoN'KY. Dete.stetl ! Constance, when you know that I 
 worship — (asiJe) What the dickens am I saying? 
 
 ^Ih8, II. (i(fii(h') There shall bo diamonds in that 
 bracelet, Kitty, (alnwl) Well, sir, I didu't quito catch 
 the end of that remark. 
 
 IIoNKV. Perhaps it had no end, ma'am. 
 
 Mils. II. NoLhiuff moro likely, sir; fcwof yourrcmarkx 
 hiivo. 
 
 Honey. (iuA'J Confound her ! 
 
 Has. II, Well, good morning, ['m going a drive. 
 
 IIoNKY. No you're not; at h^ist, not in my carriage. 
 
 Mns. H. Oh, 3'ou'ro going to m:J;o tho carriage a 
 Vehicle for tyranny, now, are you ? 
 
 Ho.N'KY. Tyranny is not a word fur a wife to UbO to 
 her husband, let mo remind von. 
 
 Mrs. H. Not to a "ood hns\)and, I know. 
 
 HoNKV. Then you imply that 1 am a bad one? 
 
 ^Ins. H. Ask yoiu- consciein'o, sir. 
 
 HoNKY. I shall not trouble my conscience about ihe 
 matter, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. H. I wish then your conscicnco would trouble 
 
 le 
 
 ti 
 
 il 
 
 • ; 
 
u 
 
 A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 you about it. But that inwnrd monitor hoa, I fear, long 
 einco forgotten ita duty. 
 
 Honey. Ha, ha ! In imitation of my wife, no donbt. 
 
 Mns. U. And for tho same reason, perhaps, long-con- 
 tinued neglect. 
 
 Honey. Why, what tho phnguc — confound it! you'd 
 provoke a saint. 
 
 Mns. H. Possibly ; but the present co .>ipany, you know, 
 affords no opportunity for the exercise of my talent that 
 way.| (howi)ig slirilUhj ami moving towards door, L.) 
 
 Honey, (dsidv) Hnnf]^ it! this is getting rather un. 
 pleasant. To be on these terms with the wife one adores 
 is — is — I'll speak calmly to her, quite calmlj. {(uniing 
 towards hi'r juH at she Cidls of.) 
 
 Mns. H. Oh, Whiflins, order mo tho carriage. 
 
 Honey. How dare you, you insolent woman ! How dnro 
 
 you defy me to my face, you, you (^i-itshcs towards 
 
 her—she havgs the door and leans her lack against it.) 
 
 Mns. H. Don't make an exhibition of yourself before 
 tho sciTants at any rate, Mr. Honeyton. Don't let them 
 overhear their master, whom it is their place at least to 
 try to respect, giving way to unseemly fits of rage, and 
 using language only lit for liillingsfj^atc or St. Giles'. 
 
 Honey. Upon my honour, now, 1 — I — but (snatching 
 up a ncwsimper and ilirowing himself into a chair) it's 
 ridiculous my attempting to argue 
 
 ^Ins. H. (taking uj) another paper and sitting down) So 
 ii seems, indeed ! 
 
 Honey, (aside) Hang her ! (aloud) What have wo got 
 Here — (reads) — *' Matrimonial Squabbles!" Ha! ha! 
 
 Mns. H. (reads) " Harbarons Conduct to a Wife! Out- 
 rageous Cruelty !" 
 
 Honey. (rcadf>) " Incomi)atibility of Temper I" Oh! of 
 •joursc ! 
 
 ^Mns. H. (reads) " Prisoner a brutal looking fellow !" 
 Ah ! just like thcni all ! 
 
 Honey, (rendu) " Witnesses called to prove the infer- 
 nal cruelty y>inctis('d by tliis woman towards her unfortn- 
 Aato husband!" Just ho' tho old story. 
 MxB. H. (rcad*^) " Poor victim deposed thai b«r Lqa* 
 
f 
 
 A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 15 
 
 band struck her on tlio lica^ witli a poker, exclaim- 
 
 me— 
 
 JIoXRY. ()va(?>) '* Forty sliill in j:;8 or one mouth!'* Hope 
 tliey p;ivo her tlio month. Thoydid! Uuppy, happy 
 man ! — for n viont/i. 
 
 Mns. II. (rrals) "Penal scrvitudo for seven years!" 
 Servo Ijitn right, the ruHian. 
 
 lloxKV. (rcjlcdici'li/) Wci*o it not for tho protoctin^j 
 arm of tlio law, somo husbands would surol/ long to 
 change condition with tho brutcb. 
 
 Mas. H. (/u tho SLuno tunc) Which, in tho case of somo 
 husl)ands, wonld bo no cliango at all. 
 
 HoNKY. So you call wo a bruto now, ma*am. {starling 
 up) Well, if anyone had told mo yesterday that my wife 
 would ever behave to mo liko this, I'd have crammed the 
 lie down his audacious throat. 
 
 Mns. II. (ditUlc) So would I. Oh, Kitty, Kitty, it's 
 all your doing! 
 
 Honey. If anyone had said to mo tl at my — my Con- 
 stance was nacreJy acting tho alfectionutc wife ; that lu-r 
 lovo was all a sham 
 
 ^Irs. II. (imdc) If ho goes ou liko this, I can't keep 
 it up — I mnst give way. 
 
 lloNEY. That sho would forget her vows of aCfectlon 
 and olx?dienco, and casting her duty fi-om her, throw 
 all her sweet womanly nature to tho fanr winds ■ 
 
 Mns. II. I deny it ; it's a vilo slander — I deny it, 
 utterly. 
 
 Honey. What's the good of your denying it when tho 
 facts speak for themselves ? Whorols tho duty which, as 
 a wife, you owo to your liusband ? 
 
 Mas. II. Paid, sir — paid, long ngi>— ten times over— 
 and no receipt given for it. 
 
 JIonky. Pooh! Xjovo and duty aro not to bo looked 
 u\Mm as mere marketable articles ; you'd make a regular 
 debtor and creditor transaction of it, I suppose; so much 
 payment for so nnioli lovo, aa if you bought it at a 
 gi-ocer's ; or worso still, perhajjs, money down and pay 
 your own carriage, as if you dealt at a co-operative atoiti. 
 
 Mas. U. Iq your proiout insolent niood| let ii^a4visf) 
 
 I! 
 
 
 
 As 
 
 I 
 
16 
 
 A HAPP? PAIR. 
 
 you to draw yonr illuatrati'ons from somo source more 
 conpfcninl ilmn Uio Civil scrvioo. 
 
 lIoNKY. All viiry fine, ^Im. Honoyton, no doubt, but if 
 an a)>poal to lovo and duty falls unregarded upon your 
 car, I liavo no resource but to take my staud upon my 
 authority. 
 
 Mns. II. Your autlio^Hy ? (mappuir; Icrfingi^rs) That 
 for your authority ! Thus I trample upon your authority. 
 (ntainping^ and Imppcning to cnmc down on Uia tocif) 
 
 HoNKY. Confound it, Con.slunco ! (hopping about) Do 
 you imaj^ino that I carry my authority in my feet ? 
 
 Mils, 11. (ai^idc) Oh, his poor toes! (aJnwl) Somewhoro 
 in that quarter I siipiwso, as you are taking your stand 
 upon it. 
 
 lIoNKY. !Mrs. Honoyton, do you know where such con- 
 duct as this of yours is likely to drive me ? 
 
 AFns. 11. (iisith) O, whutevcr'rf he going to say now ? 
 (aloud) To the chiropodist's, sir ? 
 
 IIoNET. To tlio Divorco Court, madam. 
 
 ^Irs. II. (<(sidc) O good gracious! (aloud) Very well, 
 Rir — to the Uivorco Court be it — Honoyton r. Honoyton 
 by all means. But don't say I drove you there; don't 
 say that, you Blue Beard, you ! 
 
 HoNKY. Ha ! ha ! if you think that the mention of that 
 oriental hero is calculated to annoy me, you're mistaken. 
 'Gad, no ! it's a compliment rather. Ah ! what a man 
 he was — he knew how to stop a woman's tongue. 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, by cutting off her head — a nice way, 
 truly. 
 
 Honey. Mrs. IIoi¥3ytou, upon my honour, I believo it 
 is the only way. 
 
 JMrs. 11. Well, in case you should feel incKned to 
 ado])t it, you'll pardon me if 1 retire. 
 
 HoN'KY. One word, ('onstanco. How long is this sort 
 of thing to go on, j)lease ? For if this is your way of 
 treating me, why the plague did you marry me ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Why did 1 marry you ? Why, you showed 
 ao distinctly that you wished it, (vumicking lUui) that I 
 did it meroly to oblige you — merely to oblige you, by 
 Jove I (latighing^gocs of l. door, imitating Honbyton'« 
 matmer — dropping tlie Utter,) 
 
A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 17 
 
 IIoNRT. Sho liatl nio tbero, I confess; sho cortainiy 
 Imd mo thoro. But wluit m\ utrocioiid — what u direct 
 fjilsrhooil. If ever thero WRs a case of mutual affection 
 in tliis world it was our's. Why she wns over head and 
 pars, over bomict and chignon, in love with nie ; and, for 
 my part, I — I — It occur.s to mo, do yon know, that I'vo 
 been a fool rather. While she wa.s good and loving I did 
 not apprcciato it — I mthor rejected it, iii I recollect 
 riijhtly 1 compared m3'self to that fly in the honoj. 
 What a confounded ass I r.nist have been ! A fly in tho 
 honey, indeed! (Innl-iuj fi>r /Ac litstcf) l»y Jove! the 
 poor wretch has tumbled info tho liot water now. {^picklug 
 it oui) Faith, my friend, there are worse things than 
 lioney, ain't there? And haven't I done just tho Fame: 
 quarrelled with my lioney and got into hot wafer as well ? 
 (pit'lcinj "p the rost'. und kissiwj if) I'll go back to tho 
 honey ag:nn. (stirJ:lu'j if in hit coat) I'm just as much 
 
 in love as ever I was, and I'll what's this ? {taking 
 
 lip Kitty's Irtfrr) Kh ! O, a letter from Kitly JIayland ! 
 Slio never told mo she'd heard from Kitty. I always 
 liked Kitty; she's a. sweet girl, (avu/.s) " Dearest Con." 
 K\\ ! hang it ! what tho dickens ! (vcads to cmly then ronda 
 if i!<jniii) Oh, very well, Miss Kitt}'. Pernicious littlo 
 mischiet^- maker ! I always detested tliat girl ; hated her 
 like poison from tho first. Ah! by Jove! I see it all. 
 So Constance's behaviour was — [ understand — all a pieco 
 of acting, ch ! That makes* it (juitu another matter — 
 never do to allow such a piece (jf trickery as that to bo 
 successful. }iy Jove, I'll fight her at her own weapons. 
 Vou sludl SCO tho ctigineer hoist with his own petard. 
 I'll act fho loving huai'>and till .she throws off her mask, 
 and then — Hero sho comes, {pockets the letter— she enters 
 L. ihior.) 
 
 Mns. ir. (aside) I've dropped Kitty's letter somewhere 
 and oh, if ho should have found it. 
 
 lIoNKY. (aside) I mustn't be too gushing all of a suddoa 
 (nloudy venftivelif) You appear to be looking for sumo 
 thii>g, Constance. 
 
 Mns. H. Yes — I — Kitty Hayland's letter ! (cautiously 
 ipitii a 9ide look at him) rv^>-*X'ye dropped it somowbere. 
 
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 18 
 
 A HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 Hon FY. Oh ! yon didn't tell me you had a letter from 
 her — I hope she's well, the dear girl. 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside) It's all right; and he looks less cold 
 than I have seen him for a lot^c^ time — and he's put my 
 roses in his button-hole, too. Victory ! 
 
 Honey. Let me h%\p you to look for it. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh no, I couldn't think of troilfoling you. 
 
 Honey. Time was, Constance, when you wouldn't have 
 called my help trouble. 
 
 Mrs. H. Time was, when you wouldn't have thought 
 it so. 
 
 Honey. I don't think it so now, dear. 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside) Dear! That is an advance. Oh, if 
 he should see this letter, it would ruin aVl. 
 
 Honey, {gazinrj at her fondly) Constance ! 
 
 "Mrs. H. (aside) I wonder whether I dropped it out 
 ^f my pocket, or Vrhat. (searching in various parts of the 
 room.) 
 
 Honey. Constance, (aside) Hang it ! why doesn't she 
 attend ? 
 
 Mrs H. (aside) Perhaps I left it upstairs after all. 
 
 Honey. Constance ! (aside) Confound her. 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, you know it's quite a matter for specu- 
 lation how often you are going to say that ; that's three 
 times. Are we to have any more of it ? 
 
 Honey. This treatment at your haids — hands that 
 ought 
 
 Mrs. H. There, sir, you need not abuse my hands. 
 There's nothing to find fault with in them, I'm sure. 
 Ton can't complain of your luck in that respect at any 
 rate. You've thrown si^es and ought to be contented. 
 
 HoNET. Constance, I may have been to blnme in the 
 way in which I've treated you; I may have eeemed cold 
 and neglectful — - 
 
 Mrs. H. You don't say so, sir. 
 
 Honey. Don't speak to mc in those icy tones, Con- 
 stance ; I may have been wrong, but don't trample upon 
 me when I own it. Remember, as Sh&icespeare 6ays, 
 that the poor beetle that you tread upon 
 
 Mils, H. Well I neyer ! calling my feet beetlecroshen 
 
2 HAPPY PAIR. 
 
 19 
 
 now. {scaling "herself on sofa, n., and spreading her dress 
 over if) Go on, sir, pray go on ; {asidc^ ono or twa 
 other such speeches and I shall drop into his arms. 
 
 IIoNEY. (asidc^ Two minuter more o£ this and I sliall 
 smash Ihe furniture, (aloud) Siill determined to mis- 
 understand nio ? {idacing a fuoidool near her, after vainly 
 hying to find room on sofa hy her) May I sit here at 
 your feet ? 
 
 Mrs. H. You can sit wherever you like, of course. 
 (aside) It's his proper place, as I'm giving him such a 
 lesson. 
 
 HoNKY. (looJcing up at her and sighing) Ah ! (aside) 
 Nothing like a sigh to start with, (siglis) Ah ! 
 
 Iliis. H. (aside) How he's sighing, poor di':rling ! 
 
 Honey, (sighs) Oh ! 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside) Oh dear ! But I musf; hold out a 
 little longer, (aloud) May I ask what those uighs are the 
 prelude to ? 
 
 Honey. Constance, I want to say three words to yow. 
 
 Mrs. H, Gracious ! is everything to go ia threes this 
 morning ? Three repetitions of my name, three sighs, 
 and now a speech of three words. 
 
 Honey. And it is so then, and I have indeed lost the 
 affection that was my chief earthly treasure. The glory 
 is departed from my life, and the love that I had 
 regarded as pure metal is but electro-plated after all — 
 the jewels but worthless stones — the diamonds thoso 
 peculiar to Bristol. 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside) I'm going, Kitty; I'm going. 
 
 Honey, (aside) Still unsoftened! IJang it! I'll— 
 I'll shed a few tears, (aloud) Emotion such as mine may, 
 perhaps, only excite your scorn ; you nifiy sneer at theso 
 drops as unmanly, but the anguish of the heart is in- 
 sensible to scorn and derision, (rising and walking to the 
 fire-place) O, my widowed heart! O, my Constance I 
 Mine no more ! 
 
 Mrs. H. No, Fcrdy, oh no, no. Your's still — your's 
 elways. O, forgive me! It has been all pretence, all 
 fibam, all — (rushing towards him.) 
 
 Honey, (holding out the letter) Permit me I 
 
 Mbs. H. (yoUh a screavi) Ah ! 
 
 
 !■ 
 
 IU 
 
20 
 
 A HAPPY PAIE. 
 
 Honey, Jnst so ! Miss Kitty Hayland's very facetious 
 letter. If yon will glance over it again you will find one 
 admonition which yon have scarcely attended to as in 
 prudence you ought. Don't let him suspect that you 
 have been incited to this by anyone else, and don't relax 
 until he's quite subdued. I think I'll have a weed, 
 (strolls to 1 he door y lohistling softly ^ ^^ See the conq^ucviiii] 
 hero comes.'*) j, 
 
 ^fns. H. (just as lie gains the door') Stop, sir ! 
 
 Honey, (stopping) Kh! 
 
 Mns. H. I confess that this letter was what induced 
 mo to treat you as 1 have done. 
 
 HoNF.Y. Yes, thanks! Happened to have discovered 
 that for myself. A confession when all's known deserves 
 an absolution when all's forgotten, (she tears up the letter 
 and ihroivs it into the f. re.) Oh ! that's ungrateful ! that'a 
 imprudent! Why tear up your table of rules? 
 
 Mbs. H. Because I need them no longer; because I 
 have that to guide nio which is above rules; because my 
 rceistanco ^Yill need for the future no supporting hand, 
 no directing voice — henceforth it can walk Avithout aid 
 from anyone. You have destroyed the poor phantom of 
 opposition by raising the very principle itself. This 
 morning I was a mere puppet, an actress speaking 
 another's words, moving by another's direction, but now 
 I speak my own words, I stand on my own ground, and 
 BO standing, I defy you. 
 
 Honey. By gad ! this is a different sort of thing, 
 indeed. 
 
 Mrs. H. When I said I married you for anything but 
 love, that I took you out of compassion only, I said what 
 was false, what was utterly false. I married you for love 
 — real, sincere, ardent love. When I said that I regretted 
 my marriage with you, that I wished my hand had been 
 given to another, I said what was false again. I had 
 never regretted it, never for a single instant. When I 
 spoke of neglecting my duty, of disobeying your wishes, 
 I was acting, trying to clieat you ^into believing me un» 
 dutiful and disobedient. 
 
 Honey, (soothingbj) Yes, never mind j you did it M 
 ♦fell, you—— 
 
^ facetious 
 ^'i" find one 
 ^^ to as in 
 fc that vou 
 don't relax 
 7Q a n-ccd. 
 
 tr ! 
 
 ^t induced 
 
 discovered 
 n deserves 
 ?> fhe Idl'T 
 '"i! that'a 
 
 because I 
 'cause my 
 '"g hand, 
 thout aid 
 antoni of 
 f- TJiis 
 speaking 
 but now 
 "ud, and 
 
 f thing, 
 
 ing but 
 lid wJiat 
 for Jove 
 ^gretted 
 id been 
 I had 
 Hi en I 
 wishes, 
 He un* 
 
 lit id 
 
 A HATPY PAIR. 
 
 21 
 
 Mrs. H. It was all a sham, all put on. I would not 
 li.ivo disobeyed you really, for a kingdom ; but now I've 
 done Avith duty; I cast obedience to tlio winds — and the 
 love of the girl and the love of the wife — (falling upon 
 ilie sofa and covering her face) Ob, where are tliey — 
 where are they ? 
 
 lIoxEY. This is the real thing past all denying — my 
 confounded coldness and ill-temper have borne their fruit 
 at last, (to audience) You know I've been a fool, and a 
 brute, I have — I — I— Constance, Constance! I've been 
 mad, cruel, wicked, auything you like ; nothing's too bad 
 for me. Pitch into me, do — get up and abuse my head 
 off — do anything — I own all my faults. I've neglected 
 you, treated you coldly, used you abominably — I seo it all 
 now ; but, upon my honour, I'll be different for tho 
 future. AVon't you believe me ? 
 
 JFrs. H. How can I believe j'ou, when ■ 
 
 HoxiJT. Of course, how can you when I've been such a 
 vilJain ? How can I make you believe mc — how can I 
 prove to you — Will you believe me if I get some one to 
 auawor for me ? Come, now — will you? Now, then, (t/y 
 uiidiencd) who'll go bail for me — who'll promise and 
 vow no end of things in my name ? Will you ? I give 
 you my sacred word of honour I'll be a model of a hus- 
 band for the future. 
 
 Come, say you will, say you'll assist me, do — ; 
 The welfare of this house depends on you. 
 If you'll but back me up, I must succeed — 
 If you condemn me, we're condemned indeed. 
 But if my faults you'll throw 3'our mantle o'er, 
 I win back all I've lost, and something more. 
 Mns, II. (coming down to him^ T take your bail; (to 
 OAulicnce^ I've — many thanks to you — 
 Played for a liusband's love, and won it, too; 
 Put I'd another purpose, truth to tell. 
 To win your favour. Have I that as well ? 
 How shall I learn it, Ferdy ? 
 
 Honey. Well, suppose 
 
 Xou put it to the verdict of the rose, (handing her a rose) 
 
22 
 
 A HAPP? PAIR. 
 
 Mns. H. Oh, yes; what fun — now then, " amused oi 
 teased "— 
 
 (pulliuy tho leaves off one h/ one') They're pleasec!, tlioy're 
 
 not, they're pleased, they're not, they're pleased-^ 
 Tlioy're not, they're— (2:'(«hsi?)_7) 
 
 Honey. Well, proceed ; you can't retract ; 
 
 "Why don't you finish ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Daren't, and that's tluo fact. 
 
 I simply daren't — I can't then, I declare, 
 Turn the last leaf and read the verdict tliere. 
 I'll to tho fountain-head, come weal, come woe— 
 (Jo audience') Have we your favour ? Answer, yes or no J 
 
 Honey, 
 
 Mrs. H, 
 
 L, 
 
 CURTAIL 
 
 EXPLANATIONS OF THE STAGE DIIIECTIONS. 
 
 Tho Actor is suppoeert to faco tlio Auilionco. 
 D. B* C. C. D. D. L. C. 
 
 B. U. B. 
 
 SCENE. 
 
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 L. 8 E. 
 
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 K.lB. 
 
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 t.2S. 
 
 Si. IB. 
 
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 R. B. C. C. 1.0. 
 
 AUDIENCE. ^^^ ...^,..^ 
 
 ir Li'f. Centre whercvcrthc scone maj bo k2e i:i>l.t 2i».i Kntvaiuo 
 
 1 1 K Left First I'ntranco d l c Door Left Ccnti e r. S e 1 ii^l.t .nd >-'"»' '"co 
 
 r 2 K Loft -na I'.iitrauco o < 't"t>o " '' ^';'^"U '?» ^ . Vii' 
 
 « » Lo.'i Third Kntitin<f -iti^'it » « ^^o*" '''*>'''* '''^^"»'» 
 
tUlK 
 
 LOAN OF A LOVER 
 
 £1 Uautielnllc 
 
 BT 
 
 J. Pv. PLANCHE. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " liemt'rf'to^:' " /'V/Zc.? of a Nlrjht;' " Or'iat to the iW/," " Captain 
 
 of the Wdl'Ji.,'-^ ^^ iSj:iiehoili/ ^/ve," '♦ ^1 Cabinet Question^'* 
 
 •• The Irish Pod;' " ,Si>riiiff Gardens,'' " T/ie Jmohiic^*^ 
 
 " The Pride of the Market;' " The Jenhimca^" 
 
 •* MyAerioiu Lady^" ttc, «C*c., tOc 
 
 Ind Kiitiaiuo 
 !r(l Kmriiico 
 
 I'PIKl- LtUlTiC 
 
 lOJTDON : 
 
 BAMTJEL FRENCH 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 «9, STRAND. 
 
 New Tork : 
 SATIUEL FRENCH & SON 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET. 
 
 m 
 
t irsc performed ai the Royal Ohjutinc Theatf*e^ 
 on Monday, September 2^)1 li, 1831. 
 
 Cliuractcrs. 
 
 CAPTAIN A^IERSFOKT Mw. J. ViNrxo. 
 
 PETER SPYK l\\x. Kkklky. 
 
 SAVYZEL ,,..,.#',,.. Ml!. AVii.LiAM ViNJNO, 
 
 DELVE I\rK. WvMAN. 
 
 GERTRUDE Madame Vkstris. 
 
 ERNESTINE ROSENDAAL ... Miss Eitzwalteb. 
 
 sj\j\A f<u\/\ w* vv^/^/v/^-^w^/^/v*y^/^/v■«■v'vv^/v\/^* 
 
 Amcrsfort. — A military undress. 
 
 Peter.— V\n\\\ square-cut coat, largo buttons, trunk brccchoa, 
 •tripod stockings, shoes and *-acklcs, and broad-l<rininied hat- 
 
 Swyzcl. — Delve. Ih'ul. 
 
 Ernestine. — Modern walking dress. ' 
 
 Oertnuk. — I'lain but ni»at peasant's dress. 2n'.l Drcsa ; \VljiU 
 ■atiu and veiL 
 
 ^- V^ **■*'*-•'"* '*-" ••^rt 
 
 TiiMC in llepresentation — 1 hour and 20 minute*. 
 
f^ The passages between inverted commas are somctdnes omiiMI, 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVER 
 
 ScFNi:. — Gardens of a Villa on the Canal^ near Utrecht. 
 The tower of the Cathedral is seen in the distance. In 
 K. corner of th.c Garden^ overlooking the Canal, is a 
 i^umnter IIousc^ in the Dutch tasta. 
 
 Enter Swyzel and Delve, l. 2 e. 
 
 SwY. Do as y?ii'ro bid, and no reflections. Don't you 
 know tlic mistress is tlie master ? 
 
 JJi:l. ^V'oU, but now really, Mynheer Swyzel — to put 
 out the orange-trees before the wiilte frosts arc over — is 
 that common sense ? 
 
 SwY. Wliat have you to do with common sense ? 
 Nothing at all, or you would not pretend to liave moro 
 tlian your mistress. It is Mamzelle Krncstinij's pleasure 
 to turn the orangery iiito a ball-room, and turned it must be. 
 
 Dkl. ]}ut the trees will die. 
 
 8wv. Let'em dio, then — that's their business; yours is 
 to clear the place out, according to order. About it with- 
 out more words ! If she told mc to fling all the Schiedam 
 in the cellar into the canal, I should do so, without hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 Dkl. You'd fling yourself after it, I'm sure. 
 
 SwY. Not when it was mixed with water, you rogue ! 
 or while the baron has money enough to buy more. Come 
 — to work ! to work \ or you'll not get the room icady by 
 midniftht. 
 
 Del. O, my poor orange trees — they'll die, every quo 
 of them ! Exit Delve, l. 
 
 Swv. Silly fellow, to trouble his head about what does 
 not concern liini. If his cmidoyers take no care for their 
 own interests, why sliould he lidget about them ? IIo 
 hasn't the slightest notion of service ! Ah ! here's Peter 
 Spyk. 
 
 a2 
 
THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 
 
 t -1 
 
 ! K 
 
 Enter Peter, r. 
 Well, Peter. 
 
 Pet. Good morning, Master Steward. 
 
 SwY. So, you've been to Amstcrdtun, to buy cattle, 1 
 he.ir? i^jf 
 
 Pet. Ay, and fine beasts they arc too, blaster Steward: 
 Ut, talking of beasts, how do you finid yourself to-day? 
 
 ou were rather poorly 'w\\*)x> 1 left. 
 
 SwY. Oh, I'm better, thank you ; but I'm not so yount:; 
 as I was thirty years ago — I find that, Peter. All ! 1 envy 
 you, you rogue ! Three-and-twenty — stout-tinibcred — 
 light-hearted — and rich, I may say; for old Jan Spyk, 
 your fiither, left you a pretty round sum, I take it ? 
 
 Pet. Why, it might have been less, and yet woitli 
 having. Master Steward. 
 
 SwY. AVell, and why don't you get a >Yife now? All 
 the girls in the neighbourhood are pulling caps for you ! 
 
 Pet. Why, I don't know ; they do look at me, some- 
 how, but I'm not smitten with anybody in particular. 
 However, I don't wish to prevent them — they may fall in 
 love witii me, then I can choose, you know. 
 
 SwY. Well, perhaps that's the best way. 
 
 Pet. Yes, I tiiink so ; as Gertrude said to me, the other 
 day, you don't love anybody in particular, Peter, so you 
 can look about you. 
 
 SwY. Gertrude — what, our Gertrude ? The simpleton 
 that has the run of the house and gardens, by permission 
 of the baron, because she is the orphan daughter of his old 
 bailiff, and who is alwaj's so mighty busy, doing nothing 
 at all, by w ay of carninj the living allowed her 1 Is she 
 your counsellor ? <?> 
 
 Pet. Oh, she and I gossip now and then, when we 
 meet. She's a sort of relation of mine — my brother-in- 
 law's aunt stood godmother to her. 
 
 SwY. Well, that is a sort of relation, certainly. 
 
 Pet. And tlieu, you see, simpleton as she is, she has 
 now and then an idea, and that's the only thing I want — I 
 never have an idea. It's very odd, but I never have what 
 you can really call an idea — of my own, that is — for I'm 
 quick enough if a person only just — and yesterday, now, 
 I saw her but for two or three miuutcS| and I'll be hanged 
 
»»y cattle, I 
 
 '1' 'Steward ; 
 ie If to-day? 
 
 ^t so young 
 Vh! Icnyy 
 tiinbcrcd— 
 J'lii S])yk, 
 ! it? 
 yet worth 
 
 low? All 
 for you ! 
 '10, some- 
 particular, 
 fiay fall ia 
 
 tlic otiicr 
 31", so you 
 
 simpleton 
 erinissioii 
 of his old 
 f nothing 
 ' Is she 
 
 vlien M'o 
 other-ill- 
 
 she has 
 rt'ant — I 
 ve what 
 -for I'm 
 Yt now, 
 hanged 
 
 THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 5 
 
 if slic didn't give mc a capital idea! and that's wliat has 
 brought mc licrc this morning. You've a captain Amcrs- 
 fort staying here, liaven't you ? 
 
 SwY. Oh, yes ; one of our young lady's score of lovers 
 —and the best of 'cm, too, to my mind ; but she's too 
 capricious to make up hers, lie's a fine fellow — hand- 
 some, clever, gallant 
 
 Pkt. And landlord of the fine farm of Applcdoorn— so 
 Gertrude says. 
 
 SwY. Ah ! and you want to ho his tenant, no doubt? 
 
 Pr.T. AViiy Gertrude thinks 
 
 SwY. Wt-il, slii''s right there — it's a pretty property; 
 but tlu-re arc .several farnicrs otlcring. 
 
 Pi:t. So she tells me ; but she says that if you were to 
 Bpcuk to the captain in my favour 
 
 SwY. AVcll, she's right thf-rc, too. If I were to 
 speak 
 
 Pi:t. And will you ? — will you. Master Steward ? I've 
 A keg at home of the finest flavour, which I should be too 
 happy 
 
 SwY. Pshaw ! pshaw I you know if I do anything it's 
 never with a view to benefit myself, Peter ; so send mc the 
 keg, if it will serve you, and we'll sec what can be done 
 about it. 
 
 Gertrude, {without) Mynheer Swy zel ! Mynheer Swyzel 1 
 
 SwY. Here comes Gertrude. 
 
 Etiter Gertrude, running^ r. 
 
 Ger. Mynheer Swyzel ! Mynheer Swyzel I 
 
 SwY. Well, don't bawl so — you young baggage ! What 
 do you want I 
 
 Ger. (out of breath) You're to go directly — I've been 
 looking for you everywhere, to tell you — there's Peter 
 Spyk! 
 
 Swy. To tell mc that ? — why I know that ? 
 
 Ger. No ; to tell you — to tell you — how d'ye do, Peter? 
 Are you very well? 
 
 Pet. Ay, ay ! 
 
 Swy. Will you tell mc what you mean to tell mc ? 
 
 Ger. Law ! I'd almost forgotten — I'd run 80 fast. How 
 well Pctei: looks this morning, don't hg ? 
 
 m 
 
 
 !' i 
 
 i 
 
 HMPI 
 
6 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVEIl. 
 
 IP 
 
 .y. ' 
 
 Rwv. Do let Peter alone ! nnd tell me who wants rac— 
 and what for. T.s it tlio v.'ino for hroivkfast? 
 
 (h:n. Yes, that's it; ytni've j^ot the keys of the cellar, 
 and the baron wants some of tiic best Moselle, to giv^. to 
 Cn[)tain Amcrsfort. 
 
 '* French A ir. 
 
 Geu. Well, but ninkc more linsto about it. 
 Master wants to treat his guest. 
 
 Bwy. Oil, I'll jilenso liiip. ! never doubt it; 
 Of li's wine you know the best. 
 lie shall own that down liis throttle, 
 Such hiis seldom found its way. 
 
 Ger. {nndc) Tlicn you'll pet hlni up a bottlo 
 Of what yuu chink every day. " 
 
 Exit SWYZEL, R. 
 
 Ger. {aside) An old rogiio, I'm sure ho is ; and ho 
 always snubs me and scolds mo. So docs everybody, in- 
 deed, except Peter. Peter never snubs mc, at any rate ; 
 but that's because he hardly ever speaks to me. Now 
 only look at him at this moment I tlicre he stands, puffing 
 aAvay with his pipe, and turning up the whites of his 
 eyes, Now, what can ho bo thinking aljout ? — that is if 
 lic is thinking. Suppose it's about — {aloud^ and taking 
 Jwld of his arm) — Peter ! , ; 
 
 Pet. Eh ! — Oh ! you're hero still, are you ? 
 
 (tkr. (aside) How civil! (aloud) Yes, I am here 
 still ; and, if 1 had kept still, you'd never have known it 
 seemingly. What arc you thiidcing about so deeply ? 
 
 Pet. Thinking about? Why, I was thinking about 
 Mother AVynk's tavern, where I breakfasted this morning. 
 
 Ger. AVliat an interesting subject I 
 
 Pet. Katlicr. Tiie old vrow worried my life out with 
 **Why don't you got married, farmer Spyk?" — "Why do 
 yon live alone in that old house, like an owl in an ivy- 
 bush? — " Why don't you take a wife ? You've got money 
 enough to keep one, and you are your own master : you've 
 only to please yourself." 
 
 Ger. Well, and haven't I told you so over and over 
 again ? 
 
 Pet. Well, so you have ; and I do think if I should 
 get the Appeldoorn Farm, I'll sign a lease and a contrao*- 
 the same day. 
 
THE LOAN OP A MVER. . T 
 
 Gi:n. But, if you don't get the farm, what docs \t sief 
 nify? — you miglit many all the same for that. You've 
 c.iongli without, You nccdu't wait — that is, if you like 
 anyI)ody well enough to many them. 
 
 Pi:t. Ah, but then I don't know that I do. Now, who 
 is tlicve, in youi* opinion, that wonld suit mo. 
 
 Gi:r. Oh, don't know. I dare say, if I wcvc to 
 clioosc, I eoukl name somebody. 
 
 Pkt. Well, but let's sec now. To begin with tiro 
 neighbourhood : — I know all the girls here, and I am 
 BUic I can't say — {suildcnlij) — What d'ye think of Mary 
 Mocrdyke, to begin with? 
 
 Ger. Very bad, to begin with, and much better to have 
 done with as soon as possible, JShe is the worst tempered 
 gill in all Utrecht, and as tall as the tower yonder — a 
 great, gawky, sulky thing, just like it. 
 
 Pet. Ah, well, I don't think she would suit mc. — 
 But there's her cousin, Judith — she's very good-nature d 
 
 Ger. Ah, Judith's a pretty girl, if you please, and very 
 good-natured, as you say, — perhaps a little too good- 
 natured. 
 
 Pet. No, really — humph ! — I shouldn't like that. 
 What d'ye say to Anne Stein ? 
 
 Ger. Everybody says she's a great coquette. See her 
 on a Sunday, that's all ! or at a dance at the fair I She's 
 always changing her partner. 
 
 Pet. Oh, if she's always changing her partner — well, 
 they can't say that of little Barbara ? 
 
 Ger. No, because she is lame, and can't dance at all. 
 
 Pet. That's very true ; poor thing, she's lame, so she 
 is. Well, I declare, then, V^row Wynk herself? , 
 
 Gr.R. Old enough to be your grandmother. 
 
 Pet. And Rachel, her daughter? ^ ' 
 
 Ger. She's engaged to young Maurice. 
 
 Pet. The devil ! Then I must go farther a field, for 
 there's nobody else that 1 know of in this place. 
 
 Ger. Oh dear ! oh dear ! how blind he is, to be sure. 
 
 Pet. Ah! — stop! What a fool I am never to have 
 remembered 
 
 Ger. Well, who?— what? 
 
 Pet. AVhy, that to-morrow will be market-day here, 
 
 
 i< '^:1i 
 
i I 
 
 8 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVER. 
 
 nnd thai tl:crc'll be plcn'y of pretty girls, from all the viN 
 la,i:;cs rouirl about — so I can choose, Avitiiout Ihc trouble 
 of a jourri/y. 
 
 Dutch Air. 
 
 PiiT. To-morrow will be markct-d.iy, 
 
 Tlic streets all thronged with lasses gay, * 
 
 And from a crowd so great, no doubt, 
 ►Sweethearts enough 1 may pick out. 
 In verity, verity, &c. 
 
 Geu. Be not too bold, for hearts fresh caught 
 Arc ne'er, I'm told to market brought; 
 The best, they say, are given away. 
 Nor left to sell on market-day. 
 In verity, verity, &c. 
 
 Pet. Well, at any rate, I'll take my chance of to- 
 morrow. J3ut yonder's mamzellc and some o- the gentle- 
 folks, so I'll go anil hear what tlic steward has done for 
 me. Good-bye, Gertrude. I say, mind, if you can find me 
 a nice little good-tempered v, ife, I'll make you a present 
 the day I'm married, and you f-hall dance at tlie wedding. 
 Exit Peter, k, singing " In verity, verity," &c. 
 
 Ger. Now isn't It provoking? He can think of every- 
 body but me ; and unless I were to say tt^ him, jilnmp, 
 "Peter, will you marry me'r" — and then, if he !-honld 
 say, " No !'' oh, I should die with shame and disappoint- 
 ment. dear! dear! how vexatious it is ! And it'a 
 not only Peter, but nobody seems to thiidc me worth 
 marrying at all — nobody ever says a civil tiling to me of 
 any sort ! I never had a sweetheart in my lif •, and I do 
 believe that's the reason. If I only had one to begin 
 with, I shouldn't wonder if thoy swarmed afterwards. 
 
 ''A Tempkto Friouhhlj)." 
 
 I don't think I'm ugly ! — -I'm only just twenty — 
 I know I should make a most exeellt'iit wife ; 
 
 The girls all arounil me have lovers in i>li'nty, 
 13ut I not a sweetheart can get for my life I 
 
 It isn't because I'm not worth a penny. 
 
 For lasses as poor I've known do/, mis to win ; 
 
 That I should have none and the others so many, 
 I vow and declare it's a shame and a sin! 
 
 Itetires up the stage sobbing 
 
 Enter Ernestine and Captain Amerseout, r. 1 e. 
 
 Amer. Why, you proposed the ride yourself, Ernestine. 
 
1 the viN 
 '. trouble 
 
 THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 
 
 t 
 
 ;c of to- 
 e gcRtle- 
 donc for 
 I find me 
 I present 
 wedding, 
 ity," &c. 
 
 of cveiy- 
 , plump, 
 c ^liouid 
 ppoint- 
 And it'a 
 Avortli 
 o me of 
 md I do 
 
 o 
 ids. 
 
 begin 
 
 sobbing 
 
 1 E. 
 
 racstine. 
 
 Ern. Perhaps I did ; but I've changed my mind. 
 
 Amer. AVill you walk, then ? 
 
 Ern. It's too hot. ^ 
 
 Amer. By the side of the Ciuuil — under the trees ? 
 
 Ern. By the side of the oaiial? I wonder you don't 
 propose that I should tow the passage-boat. 
 
 Ameu. I shouldn't wonder if 7/ou proposed something 
 equally extravagant. For myself, I liavc done — I shall 
 suggest nothing else. Please yourself^ if possible, and 
 y';u will please me. 
 
 Ern. Now he's out of humour. 
 
 Amer. No, not out of humour — but you are the most 
 capricious creature ! 
 
 Ern. Well, well, sir, if you are tired of your allegiance, 
 renounce it at once. I have plenty of slaves at my foot- 
 stool who will serve me with oriental obedience ! 
 
 Amer. If they really loved you, they would not en- 
 courage you in your follies. 
 
 Ern. My follies ! How dare you talk to me of my 
 follies, sir? Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue, 
 directly I There's Gertrude, and I want to speak to her. 
 Gertrude ! {calling.) 
 
 Ger. Yes, mamzellc. (dn/ing Iter ei/cs, and cuhyoicinir.) 
 
 Ern. What's the matter, Gertrude ? you've been crying. 
 
 Ger. Yes, mamzellc. 
 
 Ern. And what foi*? Has any one vexed you?— some 
 faithless swain, jwrhaps? 
 
 Ger. Oh dear no, mamzellc ! I wish it was -but that's 
 not possible ! (bursts out afresh.) : 
 
 Ern. How d'ye mean — not possible, child? 
 
 Ger. Because I haven't got a swain of any sort. 
 
 Ern. Bless the girl ! What! no sweetheart, at your age? 
 
 Ger. No, mamzellc. 
 
 Ern. Then, perhaps that's what you are crying about ? 
 
 Ger. Yes, mamzelle. 
 
 Ern. Silly wench ! you ought to rejoice at it rather ; 
 the men are nothing but plagues, (Sertrudc. Lov rS^ 
 indeed 1 there's not one worth having ! 
 
 Ger. I — I wish I had one though, ju t to try. I was 
 just saying to myself iL was a shame tint some young 
 women should have a score, and others noue at all 
 
 mmmmm 
 
 1 
 
10 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVER. 
 
 Amer. (r.) Tlie girl is right enough there. It is a 
 shaino that some young women shouhl have a score, ami 
 hold out equal hopes to all. 
 
 Ekn. The sooner you lessen the number of mine tlio 
 better, then. I could manage to spare even the gallant 
 Captain Amersfort — and — a capital thought I as you seem 
 so concerned at tlie unequal division, I'll transfer you to 
 Gertrude. 
 
 Ger. Law, mamzelle, you don't say so? Will you, 
 really ? 
 
 Amer. Ernestine ! — what folly I 
 
 Ern. I'm quite serious. As you have no admirer, 
 Gertrude, and I have so many, I'll give you one of mine. 
 
 Gi:u. Oh, but I don't want you to give me one, mam- 
 zelle ! li you'll only lend me a beau — ^just to encouraLje 
 the others. 
 
 Ern. Ha ! ha ! ha ! delightful ! That's better still !— 
 you hear, sir, I am not to give you up altogether, though 
 you deserve it ; I shall only try your obedience ! AVe 
 command you, therefore, on pain of our sovereign dis- 
 pleasure, to pay all proper attentions to our handmaid, 
 Gertrude ; you are her beau till farther notice. 
 
 Amer. Ernestine, are you mad ? 
 
 Ern. Mad or not, you will obey mc, or take the conse- 
 quences ! I wont be charged with folly and extravagance 
 for nothing ! (aside) llemember, I have promised my 
 father to decide this day in favour of somebody ; if you 
 hesitate only, you arc excluded from all chance ! {crosses, 
 r.) Gertrude, I lend you a beau — on your personal 
 security, mind ! 
 
 Ger. Oh, you needn't be afraid, mamzelle — I'll take 
 the greatest care of him — " and, besides 
 
 JDntch Air^ 
 
 Geiu Tliink not I tlie lieart would keep 
 
 I'm content to borrow ! • . ' 
 
 . JSee, if I don't have a heap, 
 
 To pay it from to-morrow, • • 
 
 Money, money makeg they lay— 
 
 The job is to get any ! 
 And lovers grow like money may, 
 
 D&iT. Oh, yes t one fgol makes many l* 
 
THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 
 
 11 
 
 Ern. {to Amersfort) One step, {incl you lose me for 
 ever! Exit Euxf.stine, r. 1 e. 
 
 Amer. flo himself^ Tliis passes evcrytliiiig ! I am a fool 
 indeed, and love her like a fool, or I would never bear-— 
 
 Ger. Only think ! I've got a beau at last — and such a 
 beau — an officer! — a fine, young, handsome officer!— 
 What'll Peter say to that? 
 
 Amer. And while I thus humour licr caprices, she 
 returns to the house to flirt with that puppy, Amstell, or 
 that booby, Blankenberg ! 
 
 Ger. But he takes no more notice of mc than Peter 
 himself ! 
 
 Amer. I will not endure it ! I will foll6w her, and — 
 
 Ger. Stop! stop! you mustn't run away — you're only 
 lent to me, you know — and if I should lose you, there'll 
 be a pretty business ! (taking his arm.) 
 
 Amer. (laughing in despite of himself) Upon my word, 
 this is too ridiculous ; So, you really look upon me as a 
 oan, do you ? 
 
 Ger. Yes ; and I don't choose to be left alone. My 
 stars ! Peter could do that. 
 
 Amer. Peter ! — who's Peter ? I thought you said you 
 hadn't a sweetheart in the world ? 
 
 Ger. Nor have I. 
 
 Amer. Come, come, no fibs ! You've betrayed yourself. 
 This said Peter, isn't lie a sweetheart. 
 
 Ger. No, I don't think he is — at least, I don't know. 
 What do you call a sweetheart — one whom you love, or 
 one who loves you ? 
 
 Amer. One avIio loves you, of course. 
 
 Ger. Well, then, I'm right — he is not my sweetheart ; 
 but I am his, for I Iqve him dearly I 
 
 Amer. AVhat a candid little soul ! And so you really 
 love Peter dearly, though Peter doesn't love you? But 
 are you sure he doesn't love you ? 
 
 Ger. I don't believe he ever thought about it 
 
 Amer. Is it possible ! AVhy you are very pretty !— • 
 {aside) Upon my soul, she is uncommonly pretty — I 
 wonder I never noticed her before ! — {aloud) And so 
 Peter has never thought about you? 
 
 Ges. N( 
 
 ■€ 
 
 ■i -^ Am 
 
 m 
 
 ■n 
 
¥'M 
 
 ft- 
 
 ' ( 
 ;ll 
 
 X f 
 
 THE LOAN OP A LOVEll. 
 
 **Fciiit Vuuhlkr:' (Music puLlislied.) 
 I've no money; so, you sec, 
 I*cter never thinks of iiic — ^ 
 . • I own it to my sorrow ; 
 
 Oh, could / grow rich, anil he 
 He reduced to poverty, 
 What sweet revenge 'twould be for mo 
 To marry nim to-morrow ! 
 
 Peter's thought almost a fool — 
 You have profited by school — 
 
 Wit from you folks borrow ! 
 Peter's plain — you handsome, gay ; 
 But, if you were both to say— 
 '♦ Will you have me, Gertrude, pray ?*• 
 
 I'd marry him to-morrow ! 
 
 A.MER. There's love ! — there's devotion ! What cliarm* 
 ing frankness ! — what innocent enthusiasm ! By Jove, if 
 ahe wasn't so fond of another, I should bo almost tempted 
 — if it were only to punish Ernestine! I — I — (aloud) 
 Confound that Peter ! — almost a fool — he must be a 
 downright idiot not to fall head over ears in love with 
 
 such a sweet, dear, bewitching [catches her round the 
 
 waist ; and is about to kiss her) 
 
 Peter Spyk enta^s with Swyzel, r. 2 e. 
 
 SwY. I beg your pardon, captain, (both stop short — 
 Peter staring at Gertrude) 
 
 Ger. {aside) Oh, hid, there is Peter 1 
 
 Amer. What the devil do you want? 
 
 SwY. Only to introduce Peter Spyk — an honest young 
 farmer — who desires to be your honour's tenant. 
 
 Amer. Peter Spyk ! What is this the Peter ? 
 
 Ger. Yes, that's Peter Spyk ; and he wants to rent 
 your farm of Appeldoorn; and I am sure you can't do 
 better than let him have it, for he's as good a farmer, 
 and as honest a young man 
 
 Amer. If you interest yourself for him, my dear Ger- 
 trude, that is sufficient. Swyzel, come here, {aside to 
 kini) I am much interested about this girl ! — I've taken a 
 great fancy to her ! 
 
 SwY. AVliat, to our Gertrude? — to that pcior simple 
 thing? Well, I thought just now you seemed rather — - 
 eh ? You're a terrible man, captain ! What will mam* 
 zelie say? 
 
THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 
 
 19 
 
 Ameb. Oil, it's all in pure frlcndslilp, I assure you ; 
 but come this way, nnd tell jiic all you kuow about her. 
 (^aloKcl to Petkr) I'll speak to you presently, young man. 
 
 Amkksfort aJid Swyzel C7iter the summcrhousc^ r. u. e. 
 
 Geu. Peter, you'll have the farm ! 
 
 Pet. No, shall T, though? Well I thought he said 
 something like it ; and because you asked him, too ! I 
 say, you and he seem great friends — he'd got his arm 
 round your waist ! 
 
 Gek. Had he? oh, yes, I believe he had. 
 
 Pet. Well, now I've known you ever since you were 
 tliat high, and I'm sure / never put my arm round your 
 
 AVilist. 
 
 Geh. No, that you never did! But, then, he's my 
 Ewcctlicart ! 
 
 Pet. Your sweetheart? — yours? What, the captain' 
 P.sliaw ! you're joking ! 
 
 Ger. Joking! indeed I'm not joking I What is therft 
 BO strange in ' ^ ay? 
 
 Pet. Why, in the first place, lie's mamzellc's sweet- 
 heart ! 
 
 Ger. Not now. 
 
 Pet. What, has he left her for you? Why, what can a 
 rich officer like that see in a poor servant girl ? 
 
 Ger. Don't be a brute, Peter! If you can't sec any- 
 thin gt to like in me, it's no reason that others should not. 
 
 Pet. INlc I — oh, that's a different affair; Ijccausc you 
 and I, you know, there's not so much difference bct\Yecn 
 UP, and — oh, by-the-bye, talking of that — I've been 
 thinking of what you said to me, and I wont wait any 
 longer — not even till to-morrow — I've fixed upon Ann 
 Stein. Her mother was here just now, on some business 
 with old Swyzel, and something was dropped about my 
 having tlic Appcldoorn farm ; and Swyzel says, she gave 
 hiin a liint that her daughter, Anne, was very fond of me, 
 find that decided mc at once, 
 
 Ger. It did? 
 
 Pet. Oh, yos; because, where a woman is really fond 
 of one, you know — So directly Pvc settled with the eap- 
 Uiu about the tarra, I'll ycvst off to widow Stein's, and— 
 
 mm 
 
14 
 
 THE LOAS OP A tOVER. 
 
 I 
 
 mi 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 1'! 
 
 : 1 i 
 
 lii ^. !! 
 
 ;!i' ^ i; 
 
 1 |i! : ' ! 
 
 1; 
 i 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 well, what's tlic matter -vvitli you, Gertrude? Wliy, yoil 
 •re crying:; ! 
 
 Ger. ^N'otliing — nothing ! I wish you may he happy- 
 that's all, Peter. 
 
 Pet. Tiiank ye — thank ye ! It's very kind of you {>i 
 cry for joy about me, I'm sure — and I won't forgot iiiv 
 promise. 
 
 Enter Amersfort and S^vyzel, from the summerhouse, 
 
 SwY. You ean't be in earnest, captain? 
 
 Amer. I tell you there it is, in black and white ! Pul 
 a wafer in that {giving a note) and send it immediately t 
 my lawyer's, as directed. 
 
 SwY. {aside) Two thousand crowns to portion off 
 wench like that. 'Gad ! she won't want a husband long, 
 
 Exit SVVYZEL, L, 
 
 Amer. {to Peter) Now for you, farmer. I find then 
 are writing materials in the summerhouse, so we can— 
 
 Ger. Stop ! stop ! — one word. 
 
 Amer. What is it? 
 
 Ger. {leading him apart from Peter) You are m 
 beau, you know, and you're to do everything I bid you ! 
 
 Amer. Of course. 
 
 Ger. Well, then, I bid you refuse the fiirm to Peter Spyk 
 
 Amer. Refuse ! — why I thought you said — 
 
 Ger. It doesn't signify what I said ! — I've changed m 
 mind ! I suppose I may do that as well as your fim 
 ladies I You're to obey me ! — Mamzcllc Ernestine sai 
 so ; and I don't choose you should let Peter have tb 
 farm ! {spealdncj the last five words loud enough for Pete 
 to hear) 
 
 Pet. {aside) " Let Peter have the farm ! " 'Gad! she'i 
 giving me a famous lift with the captain ! 
 
 Amer. Well, if you don't choose, he shan't have i 
 certainly : and I'm not sorry, for I don't think he deserve 
 it. And now, listen to me. I mean to help you to 
 gOTjd husband, and, in return, you must assist me ii 
 a little plot. I can't stay to tell you now ; but meet me 
 in half an hour's time at the aun-dial yonder. May 1 
 d«p9nd upon you ? 
 
 Grd 
 Am 
 
 Tlierc 
 bii>iii(| 
 Tei 
 
 Snv- 
 
THE LOAN OF A LOYKK 
 
 15 
 
 y be liappy. 
 
 nd of you to 
 I't forget iiiv 
 
 immerhoiisc, 
 
 white ! Put 
 nmediately to 
 
 portion off a 
 iisband long, 
 
 it SVVYZEL,L 
 
 I find then 
 we can— 
 
 You are nijf 
 I bid you ! 
 
 Peter Spyk! 
 
 changed my 
 fis your fine 
 ncstinc said 
 3r have the 
 hfoi" Peteb 
 
 'Gad! she's 
 
 I't have it, 
 he deserve 
 p you to a 
 Bsist me in 
 |ut meet me 
 3r. May 1 
 
 Gr'R. That you may. 
 
 Ami:u. Enough! Now, master PL-tor Spyk, foUow m^ 
 There's no occasion for writing : wc can settle tins 
 business in two words. 
 
 Vet. (aside) The farm's mine! [to Gkutiiudk) I owe 
 you a good turn for this ! Kxit^ icitk Ami.ksiout. i:. u. E. 
 
 Geu. Indeed you do. If Anne iSteiii marries him now, 
 I'm mistaken in the family altogether. 
 
 Enter Swyzel, l. 
 
 SwY. I've sent Delve with the note; but I've made 
 up my mind. I'm not a young man, certainly ; aiid I 
 had no idea of changing my situation ; but two thousand 
 crowns will suit me as well as anybody in the world, aiul 
 po here goes — there's nothing like being first in the field. 
 [aloud) Gertrude! (icrLrude! — come hither, Gertrude ; I 
 want to say a word to you in j)rivate I 
 
 Geu. To me, master steward ? (asidr) dear, now 
 he's going to scold me for soniethiii,-^-, I'm sure. A cross 
 old patch ! 
 
 SwY. Come here, I tell you! Nearer — d(tn't be afraid 
 — I'm going to propose something for your g<<od, my dear I 
 
 Geu. (aside) "My dear I" Bless me, how kind he's 
 grown all of a sudden. 
 
 SwY. I've known you a long while, Gertrude — from 
 your cradle in fact. I knew your poor dear father and 
 mother, and I always had a great affection for you ! 
 
 Ger. You, Mynheer Swyzcl? — I'm sure you ncvr 
 showed it, then. O 
 
 SwY. May be not — may be not ! I was afraid of spoil 
 ing you, as a child ; but now, you know, you arc grown up, 
 and very nicely you have grown up — [ see it more and 
 more every day — and in short, (iertrude, I've been think- 
 ing that, as I am a bachelor, I couldn't do better than 
 marry a good pretty girl like you, whose character and 
 temper I have watched the growth of from an infiint. 
 
 Ger. You — you. Mynheer Swyzel, marry me? 
 
 SwY. AVhy not — why not? — if you liave no objection. 
 I'm only fifty-five, and a hale, hearty man for that age. I 
 have saved some money in service, and — 
 
 Ger, But X havou't ^ doit iu the world ! 
 
 mmmm 
 
^' 
 
 16 
 
 THE LOAN OP A LOVER. 
 
 ! 11 
 
 ' 
 
 SwY. Ncay ; nay! you arc riclicr than you think for! 
 
 Glu. Eh? 
 
 SwY. In cliarnis — in yoiitli and beauty ! — 
 
 Geii. (aside) So— so ! Iicro's a real, tlowiniglit sweet* I 
 heart at last ! — and old Swyzcl, too, of all men in the ^vol•l(l! ! 
 I shall die of laughing! 
 
 Swv. (aside) She's silent ! — she hesitates I The two 
 
 thousand crowns arc mine ! 
 
 " Dutch Air. 
 SwY. My cars witli sweet con.sentmcnt hk-ss ! 
 Oeh. (aside) The iiioou must, surely, be about full! 
 {idoadj I don't say nu — 1 don't say ijc8» 
 
 SwY. Alack ! that's rather doulitful ! 
 
 Gkk. What px'oof liave I you mean me fair? 
 Your sex is of deceit, throughout, full. 
 
 SwY. Upon my honour, I declare ! 
 
 Gkk. Alack ! that's rather doubtful ! " 
 
 Gkr. (aside) Here's Peter a coming back. If I coiilil 
 manage — (aloud) Besides, that isn't the way to swear 
 yo'j love a body — you should go down on your knees ! 
 
 SwY. There! — there, then! Charming Gertrude, on 
 my knees, I swear eternal love and constancy! 
 
 Enter Peter, r. u. e. 
 
 Pet. Halloo! — why, Mynheer Swyzcl, what arc you 
 doing there ? 
 
 SwY. [scramhling up) Confusion 1 (aloud) I — 
 nothing — only kneeling to — (aside to Gertrude.) Don't 
 say anything to that fool. Come to my room as soon a3 
 you've got rid of him. Exit Swyzei^ l,. 
 
 Ger. You here again, Peter? 
 
 Pet. Here again! — I believe I am, too; and just as I 
 went away. Would you believe it? — Captain Amersfort 
 won't let me the farm, after all ! - 
 
 Ger. Dear me ! — you don't say so? 
 
 Pet. ITc wouldn't hear a word ; and, to make matters 
 worse, old widow Stein, who saw me talking to him, waited 
 to hear the upshot; and, when I told her, she as good as 
 gave me to understand that I wasn't matcli enough for her 
 daughter, and that Anne herself liked GJroot, the miller, 
 much better thau she did me \ A coc^uette '. — you said 
 
 bIic ^v| 
 
 I know 
 I more 
 
 i K "^' 
 I do 1| 
 
 love t^ 
 
 Pi 
 
 (I Ell 
 
 llko, ml 
 Pe'i 
 
 fancy 
 
THE LOAN OF A LOVETi. 
 
 17 
 
 u think for! 
 
 iiri^'lit sweet, 
 ill the woiMli 
 
 s I The two 
 
 )ut full ! 
 
 If I could 
 ty to swcar 
 i" knees ! 
 ertrudc, on 
 f 
 
 at are you 
 
 ud) I- 
 
 '^) Don't 
 vs soon as 
 
 just as I 
 Amcrsfort 
 
 c in at tors 
 ni, waited 
 good as 
 g'ii for her 
 le miller, 
 -you said 
 
 jlic was a coquette ! — and you were quite right. I don't 
 
 know how it is, but you're always riglit! — you've got 
 
 Lore .sense tlian all of 'cm put together; and, for the 
 
 Latter of looks, why there's the captain vows — and, talk- 
 
 jiiig of vowing, what waa rdd Swyzcl about on his knees? 
 
 I do believe he was vowing, too ! 
 
 (.ii:u. Between you and me, he Avas vowing all sorts of 
 love to me I — and he wants me to marry him 1 
 
 Pr.T. Marry him ! — marry old Swyzel ! — and will you? 
 
 Gi:r. I don't know! — what do you think? AVould you 
 like me to marry him, Peter? 
 
 I'i:t. Not at all ! I don't know how it is, but I can't 
 fancy your marrying anybody — that is, I never thought of 
 your marrying anybody ; and, now I do think of it, I 
 thiidc — 
 
 (JER. Well— what? 
 
 Enter Delve, wilh a note, l. 
 
 Del. Oh, Gertrude, here you arc ; here's a note for 
 you. It's very particular — they gave mc a florin to run 
 all the way ! 
 
 Ger. a note for mc ? — who is it from ? 
 
 Del. The clerk at Van Nickcm's, the lawyer. I took 
 a letter there for the captain, and, as his master wasn't at 
 home, the clerk opened it, and wrote this answer to the 
 captain, and then scribbled that for you, and begged mc 
 to give you yours first — and so I have j and now I must 
 find the captain. Exit Delve, b. 
 
 Ger. a note for me? Nobody ever wrote to me 
 before ; and if they had, it would have been no use, for I 
 can't read written hand. You can, Peter ; so pray open 
 it, and let's hear what it's all about. 
 
 Pet. (opening and readi)i^l " Mamzclle." Mamzelle, 
 to you ! 
 
 Ger. Go on — go on. 
 
 Pet. " I have loved you above all earthly beings I" 
 
 Ger. Bless us, anl save us! 
 
 Pet. " I dared not disclose M\y passion j but, belieye 
 inc, my affection was equal to my silence." 
 
 (ri^R. Then it was great indeed I 
 
 J 
 
t 'III! 
 
 Ilii 
 
 !l 
 
 18 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVER. 
 
 Pr-T. " I lifivc at Icngtli summoncfl courage to address 
 you, and if the oHVr of my Imnd and fortune" — aiiuthcr 
 proposal ! — who is tlic f< How that writes this? 
 
 Gkij. Van Nickcm's clerk, Delve told }on. 
 
 Pet. Yes; here's his u^-ly luinie, sure enough, at tlic 
 bottom of it — Simon Sne(!k ! 
 
 Gku. Ah ! if I rceoUeet, lic'a rather a good-looking 
 young man ! 
 
 Pkt. Why, you don't nioau to 
 
 Gi:k. Surely he's better than old Swy/el ! 
 
 Pet. Well! but what docs it all mean? Everybody 
 "wants to marry you. 
 
 Geu. I can't help that — can I? r»ut I shan't be in a 
 hurry; I shall do as you do — loidc about nie ; perliaj)3 
 somebody may ofler that I should like better, {clack 
 strikes) llark ! that's two o'clock ! — and I promised to 
 meet the captain at the sun-dial yonder. Good bye, 
 Peter; and mind, if you can find nic a husband that I 
 should like better than any of these, I'll make you a 
 present the day Pm married, and you shall dance at the 
 'wedding ! 
 
 {goes out singing " In verity," &c., in imitation oj 
 Peter's manner at his exit, u. 1 e.) 
 
 Pet. {stands staring after hcr^ luith the note open in his 
 hand) W^ell, when she talks of Anne Stein always 
 changing her partner — she's oflf to meet the cai)tain now , 
 and yet she says to me, " if you can find me a hnsbaml I 
 should like better !" — the idea of Gertruilc having a hus- 
 band! — a little girl, that Avas only a baby the other day, 
 as it seems to me. I womler if she'd like me better; 
 because if she would — I want a wife myself —and I don't 
 know why I didn't at first. Hut there goes tliat cursed 
 captain, running like mad to meet her! — 'Gad I I beuin 
 to feel that I don't like it all ! Why can't ho keep to his 
 fine ladies, and let the others alone ? I don't go and 
 make love to jMam/cllc Ernestine, do I? ^^'llat busincs,* 
 has he to talk a pack of stuff to Gertrude, and turn the 
 poor girl's head? He'd better mind what he's about, 
 though — I can tell him that ! If he makes her unhappy, 
 I wouldn't be in his shoes for something, for 1 .sh^ulci 
 break every bone iu my own skiu ! 
 
 l0( 
 
 n 
 
 p 
 
 fro 11 
 >v;u 
 1 
 Ith 
 
• • •» • »-0% 
 
 r.rt 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOTER. 
 
 19 
 
 to address 
 J) ,1 
 
 ugli, ut tlic 
 Dod-looklng 
 
 Everybody 
 I't be ill a 
 
 G ; pci'll!lj)3 
 
 tor. {cloclc 
 romlscd to 
 !Jnod bye, 
 uid that I 
 dvc you a 
 iiec at the 
 
 nitatlon of 
 
 open in his 
 ill ahvayg 
 )taiii now , 
 iiii.s]);md I 
 iiipj a Jiii.s- 
 oth(>r iV.iy^ 
 10 better; 
 lid 1 don't 
 lat cursed 
 I be^iii 
 f^ep to iiis 
 t i;-o and 
 t bu.sIiie.-7 
 
 turn the 
 i's about, 
 unhappy, 
 
 1 .shouJd 
 
 Euter Dni.vE, n. 
 
 Du.. "What's the matter, Master Peter? — you don't 
 look best plcapod. 
 
 I'l/r. Wi 11, I jiavc bee^i j)leascd better. 
 
 1)i:l. Anvthinf' in that note? 
 
 pKT. Thi.s note ! — no. This is the note you brought 
 from Van Is'ickeni'.s. There's that young rogue, Sneek, 
 wants to marry Gertrude. 
 
 J)el. To marry (lertrndel "Well, now, do you know, 
 I think lie might do wor.se. 
 
 J'kt. Might do worse '? — I believe he might, too I 
 
 ])i:l. CJertrude's by no means ill-looking. 
 
 Pet. Ill-looking? — she's very pretty. 
 
 Del. Well — yes — I think she i.s, — and very good 
 tempered. 
 
 Pet. The best humoured f^onl in the -world ! 
 
 Del. Do you know, Master Peter, if I thought there 
 was any clianec of our living comfortably together, I 
 shouldn't mind making up to Gertrude myself. 
 
 Pet. You ! — you be hanged ! 
 
 Del. Hanged! — what for, I should like to know? I 
 question now if I couldn't afford to marry as well as 
 young Sneek — he doesn't get much out of Niekem's 
 |)oeket, I'll swear I 
 
 Pet. AVell, you needn't trouble your head about it, be- 
 cause you shan't have her ! 
 
 Del. Why, farmer Spyk, what have you to do with 
 it ? — suppose I choose, and she chooses, you're neither 
 her father nor her mother. If you put my blood up, I'll 
 go and ask her at once I 
 
 Pet. And if you do, you'll put my blood up — and then 
 I shall knock you down ! 
 
 Del. Knock me down ! Donncr and blitzen I 
 
 Pet. Don't provoke me ! — I'm getting desperate I — 1 
 mean to marry Gertrude myself, if she'll have me ; and 
 I'll fight anybody for her, with fists, knives, pistols — 
 anything I 
 
 Enter Ebsestine, r, 
 
 Ern. Heyday ! heyday ! what is all this noise about— 
 and threat of fighting ? 
 
20 
 
 THE LOAN OP A tOVER. 
 
 III,!' 
 
 |i^ 
 
 in::;i-h 
 
 Del. It's farmer Spyk, hero, nnd please you, inamzcllc; 
 ho threatens to kii«jck iiic down it I go n-courting to 
 Gertrude — and all in an honest way, too. 
 
 Krn. To CJertrude! AVIiy how long have you taken 
 this fancy into your head? ^ 
 
 Pj:t. Why, not five minutes, mamzcllc ; and ho has tho 
 impudence to set himself up aiiainst me, "wlio have been in 
 love "with her — more than half an hour! 
 
 Ern. And where is the fair ohjcct of your contention? 
 — what docs she say to these sudden passions ? 
 
 Pet. I'm waiting to know Avhat she'll say to mine — but 
 she's a plaguy long time witli tho captain, lie's the oidy 
 rival I'm afraid of; she seems deuced fond of him — and ho 
 raves about her ! 
 
 Ern. [alarmed) Tic docs! — {recovering herself ) ]]ut, 
 of course — I desired him. 
 
 Pet. You desired him, mamzclle? 
 
 Ern. Yes; I commanded him to make love to her! 
 
 Pet. Well, he wjut be broke for disol)edicnco, thoi — 
 that's all I can say — for he docs make love to her most 
 furiously! I caught him myself with his arm round her 
 waist, this morning, and I dare say its round itnow, if tho 
 truth was known ; but I can't see for that beastly holly- 
 bush. Dr.i.vi: steeds out behind^ R. 
 
 Ern. AVhy, where are they, then? 
 
 Pet. She was to meet him at tho sim-dial, and I saw 
 him slinking through the trees yonder ; and just now I'm 
 almost certain I caught a glimpse of them at tho end of 
 that walk. 
 
 EuN. [aside) I don't like tliLs neromit ; I'm afraid I've 
 acted very sillily. I repented ot" tho IVeak almost as soon 
 ns I left them ; but my pride would not suft'or me to 
 return. The girl's pn-tty — very jjretty — and if Amcrs- 
 fort, enraged at my Ir.ditVerence, should, out ot »rerc 
 spite — sueh things havo happcne.l — Oh, dear! I do not 
 Jike it at all ! 
 
 Pet. There she goes ! — there shw gocsi 
 
 Ern. With the Ciii:tahi? 
 
 Pet. No, by herself — and tYierc's Delve after her aa 
 hard as ho can scamper ! I'll follow — I'll — no, I can't — I 
 can't move — I — I feel very ill — my head spins round like 
 a top ! Here comes 4hc captain. 
 
 cl 
 
Tiru I^AN OF A tOVEIi. 
 
 SI 
 
 EiiN. Amorsfortl I am ready to sink 
 
 1*i:t. Don't — don't, ni;iiii/.olle — for I've no strcncrtli U 
 
 catol. vuii ! 
 
 Enter AiiKusrouT, r. u. e. 
 
 Amhu. (aside) Slio h licrc — noAV for (lie trial ! — [aloud) 
 JMadcinoiscllc 10nic.>^tiiio, I canio to .seek you. 
 
 Kkx. Indeed, HJr; and for >\ liat purpose? I thought I 
 had dc;:>ired you to pay your nttcntioud in another quarter 
 for the present. 
 
 A.mi;k. It is in perfect accordance with that desire that 
 I have .sought this interview. I am anxious to express 
 my gratitude for the blessing >vhieh you have so unex- 
 peetedly bestowed upon me. 
 
 J''i;\. What do you nuan, Kir? 
 
 Amkh. I mean, Mamzelle Ixosendaal, that the heart you 
 treated with so much indillerenee has been accepted by 
 one of the most lovely and amiable of your sex; and that, 
 in the alVection of ({crtrude, it has* found a balm for all the 
 wounds you had .so wantonly inflicted on it I 
 
 ]'i;t. There !— there ! i told you so ! 
 
 Ki;n. Upon my -word, .sir ! — and you have the assurance 
 to make this confession to me? 
 
 Amkii. AVhy not, Mademoiselle? AVe are not masters 
 of our affections, and, therefore, I will not reproach you. 
 But ran you be surprised that I should be weary of loving 
 one who did not love me? or that, stung to the quick by 
 your contempt, I .should be more sensible to the kindness 
 and sympathy of another? Gertrude i.s lovely I 
 
 Pet. (l.) She is ! — she is ! 
 
 Amer. The sweetest tempered — the most frank and 
 affectionate of beings ! 
 
 Pet. Too true !■ — too true ! 
 
 Ameu. The possession of her heart is a blessing mo- 
 narchs might envy me I . • 
 
 Pet. I shall go mad! 
 
 Amer. And monarchs have inatched with maidens 03 
 lowly born, and far less deserving ! 
 
 EuN. (c.) Enough! — enough, sir! 
 
 Pet. No, it's not enough ! lie can't say too mucb 
 %bout her I — she hasn't her equal upon earth 1 
 
 w 
 
i r 
 
 I i 
 
 
 22 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVEH. 
 
 AMi-rK. You arc rlulit, fjirnicr; ami I tliauk you for the 
 honest wanntli ^villl wliicli you justily my clu»ioc'. 
 
 {crosses and oj/crs his hand) 
 
 Vet. Your choice ! Don't toufli mo I 
 
 Amkr. My sweet bride — my afHanced wife — Madame 
 Amcrsfort sliall thank you in person ! 
 
 Pkt. His wife! INIadamc Amcrsfort I Cruel, faithle.-s 
 Gertrude ! 
 
 Ami;r. Faithless ! — why, did you ever propose to her? 
 
 Pi:t. No ; but I meant to do so I Oli, dear ! 
 
 EuN. Your wife? — your wife? — and you really intend 
 to marry this orphan girl ? 
 
 Amhk. I have desired my lawyer to prepare her mar- 
 riage contract, which shall be signed this evening ! 
 
 Pkt. Oh! 
 
 Ekn. Not in this house, sir 1 I Avill not be insulted to 
 that extent ! I go this moment to inform my fatiu'r. 
 
 Ameii. The 13aron Van Uosendaal is already inibrmed, 
 and approves of my intentions ! 
 
 EiiN. Approves I — wc shall see, sir ! — wc shal! see I 
 
 «' Air—" The ChaUen^jc" 
 
 Ekn. Such pcrndy was never known — 
 1 joy in its unniaskiiijj. 
 
 PiiT. O Geitriule ! you've ii licart of stone, 
 A I To break a heart so true ! 
 
 Ameh. Why, had slic promised you ? 
 
 Pet. No, there l»er falsehood's shown I 
 
 Bo bent was slie on jiltinji,- nie, - 
 
 fc>he could not wait fur asking. 
 
 Ameu. Well, there with 3'ou I must agroo. 
 t^ueh falsehood ne'er was known. 
 
 EuN. Tis wcllr— 'tis well, sir, wo shall see, 
 Such falsehood ne'er was known.'' 
 
 Exit EUNESTINE, R. 
 
 Amer. (aside) Yes, yrs, my fair tyrant, your father is 
 in the plot ! I think we have you now! (rdtuuJ) Well, 
 my good friend, I must say I pity you extremely — you 
 have lost a model of a Avife ! 
 
 Pet. Don't— don't ! 
 
 •4)iER' But where is she? — where is m^ adored Gertrude? 
 
IHE LOAN OP A LOTER. 
 
 23 
 
 Enter Gertrude, r., 3 e., dressed as a bride, 
 
 A.MKR. (inalics s/)/))s fo her not to spralc, and points at 
 Pi:ti;h, icfio sfan(fs in an attitude of comic despair^ icith his 
 back towards tltem) I must hasten to fiiul her — I cannot 
 l)ear to be an instant fVon^. her sight ! Oh, Peter ! — Peter 1 
 wliat a treasure has escaped you ! 
 
 Exit Amkrsfokt, u. 1 E., exchanging signs with Gertrude. 
 
 Pi:t. [soliloquising) Escaped inc, as if I was a mad dog ! 
 — and it was an escape for Gertrude ! An escape ! — and 
 I iiave let her escape ! AVcU, ■well, she won't be Madame 
 Swyzcl, nor Madame Sneek ; and that rascal Delve hasn't 
 got iier — that's one comfort ! Comfort !— I talk of com- 
 fort I — I sliall never know comfort again I Uii, Gertrude ! 
 — Gertrude! 
 
 («i:n. [advancing) Did you call me, Peter? 
 
 I'l/r. llah! what do I see? There's a dress — a wed- 
 ding dress ! It is I — it is I 
 
 Gkh, It is — it is a very beautiful dress, as you say, and 
 I don't wonder you start to see mc in such a dress ; but, 
 as the britle of a captain, you know 
 
 Pet. It fs true, then, you are going — going to marry 
 Captain Amorsfort ? 
 
 Gi:r. Ah! he has told you, then? Well, I was in 
 hopes of giving you an agreeable surprise ! 
 
 Pi:t. An agreeable surprise ! 
 
 CJeu. Why, are you not delighted, Peter, at my good 
 fortune ? 
 
 Pet. Delighted ! 
 
 Geu. Only think — a poor orphan girl like mc, whom 
 nobody loved, and nobody eared about 
 
 Pi:t. It isn't true! 1 cared about you — I loved you— 
 doated on you ! 
 
 Ger. You, Peter ! — you ! Mercy on me ! And why 
 didn't you tell mc so then? 
 
 Pr/r. Because I didn't know it myself then ; but I tlo 
 now, Gertrude — I do now ! 
 
 Gi:r. Now ! — now that it is too late! 
 
 Pet. But is it — is it too late ? You are not married ycl? 
 
 Geu. No \ but I have promised 1 The contract is or« 
 
24 
 
 l-HiJ LOAN OF A LOTllR. 
 
 dered, and this beautiful dress was bought by the captain 
 on purpose. You would not have me behave so shame- 
 fully to one who loves mc so dearly ? 
 
 Pet. But I — I love you dearly ! ' 
 
 Ger. Ah I if you had but said so an hour ago ! But 
 you thought of everybody but me ! 
 
 Pet. I know it — I know it ! But then nobody thought 
 of you, and now everybody does ; and it proves to mc 
 that you — you are the only girl in the world that I ought 
 to marry : and if you wont have me, I — I know what 
 I'll do. 
 
 Ger. Dear me, Peter, what ? 
 
 Pet. I'll fling myself into the canal I 
 
 Ger. Nonsense I 
 
 Pet. You see if I don't, then. I'm not desperate till I 
 take anything in my head ; but then nothing can turn mel 
 
 " Air — " Take care of the corner." 
 
 Pet. I rush to my fate, 
 
 And my funeral straight- 
 Way shall follow my latest transgression I 
 
 And in the church-yard 
 
 It shall go very hard, 
 But it meets with your bridal procession i 
 
 AVhen my coffin appears. 
 
 You will melt into tears, 
 And your friends in your grief will be sharers. 
 
 Ger. O yes, not only I, 
 
 But my husband will cry — 
 •♦ Stand out of the wav," to the bearers I 
 
 Pet. Lavghcd at I" I'll jump over the wall, here, into 
 the canal, before your face I 
 
 Ger. Indeed you shan't ! Peter, don't be a fool 1 
 {irying to hold him) Oh dear, he will I Murder I — help I 
 
 Enter Ernestine, s. 
 
 Ern. "What's the matter now ? 
 
 Ger. 0, mamzelle, help mc to hold Peter — ^he wants to 
 «?rown himself I 
 
 Ern. He is sillier than ever I supposed him, if he 
 would drown himself for so worthless a person ! I 
 wonder you are not ashamed to look me in the face ! 
 
 Geb. I'm very sorry, mamzelle. I know you only 
 
THE LOAN OF A LOVER. 
 
 « 
 
 le captain 
 >o shame* 
 
 igo! But 
 
 Y thought 
 vcs to me 
 it I ought 
 low what 
 
 rate till I 
 . turn me! 
 
 srs. 
 
 ere, into 
 
 a fool! 
 -help I 
 
 vants to 
 
 , if he 
 mxi\ I 
 c! 
 u only 
 
 lent me a lover ; but how can I give him yon back if ho 
 wont go ? 
 
 Ern. Cease your impertinence ! Your simplicity is all 
 affected ! 
 
 Ger. I'm sure mamzelle, if the captain will only con* 
 sent, I'll give him up with pleasure ! . 
 
 Pet. You will?, 
 
 Ern. You will ? Hark ye, Gertrude ! Don't think 
 that I care the least about Captain Amersfort — his be- 
 haviour has entirely destroyed any little affection I might 
 have had for him ; but, only to vex him iu my turn, if yor 
 will promise not to marry hie*— 
 
 Pet. Do, dol 
 
 Ern. I will settle a handsome income on you I 
 
 Pet. There, there 1 r 
 
 Ern. Tell him you do not love him ? 
 
 Pet. Yes, yes ! , . . ' 
 
 EuN. That you love another — anybody 1 
 
 Pet. Yes, me ! — I'm ready to be loved I 
 
 Ger. {aside) I see him ! — now's the time — {aloud} 
 Well, mamzelle, I believe it would be only the truth — 'i 
 liave a great respect for Captain Amersfort, but I cer- 
 tainly do not love him — and perhaps I do love somebody 
 else ! {looldng at Peter.) 
 
 Pet. Oh, Gertrude I 
 
 Enter Amersfort, unseen hy tJiem^ R. u. e. 
 
 Ger. But how can I consent to make him wretched ? 
 If there >viis any chance of your making it up — if I 
 thought you still loved the captain, and would make him 
 happy in the avowal ! 
 
 Ern. AVould that decide you ? ^ ^ r • 'l\ 
 
 Pet. Oh, do, then! — do. (fo Ernestine) li 
 
 Ern. What would you have m« say? 
 
 Ger. That you forgive him, and are willing to marry 
 him, if I give him upl 
 
 EuN. Well, then, I am willing ! 
 
 Amer. {advances, r., and takes her hand) Aud so ftSi 1 1, 
 
 Ger. (l, c.) And so am I, ai ' 
 
 p£i (<•*> Hurralil 
 
 i -^^ , 
 

 20 
 
 THE LOAN OF A LOVEB. 
 
 Ern. (r. c.) Captain Amersforl here ! This was t 
 plot, then I 
 
 Amer. Own that it was to secure your happiness, 
 Ernestine, and you make mine for ever ! 
 . Ern. Well, I believe I deserved this lesson. 
 
 Pet. And I'm sure I did ! 
 
 Ger, You've made your mind up, then, that I shall 
 marry you now ? 
 
 Fev. To be sure I have ! 
 
 Ger, Well, as you say, when you once do take a thing 
 in your head, nothing can turn you, I suppose it's useless 
 to say " No." There is my hand, dear Peter ! 
 
 Amer. And I suppose I may let him the farm now ? 
 
 Ger. If you please, captain. 
 
 Amer. And give him the two thousand crowns thai 
 I desired Van Nickem to settle on you as a wedding 
 portion ? 
 
 Pet. Ah I then that's why young Sneek— but nc 
 matter I 
 
 Finale. (Trio from " The Challenge,'^ 
 
 ^ y is mine ! jt^ > ii mine ! Let the stars work their will 
 
 If our patrons approve, nothing now can go ill ; 
 But the lover we lend must with them make his way. 
 Or our dealings will end with the devil to pay. 
 EuN. Should they not befriend us ? 
 I will hope for the best, 
 If one kind friend will lend us 
 His hands to move the rest. 
 Will you as? j, 
 
 No, do you. 
 Geu., fto audience. ) Do you like it ? 
 Pet. Say you do. 
 
 All. Oh happy hour ! O joyous night! 
 Our patrons share in our delight." 
 
 g>° \ IS mine 1 ^^ X is mine ! Let the stars work their wlU ; 
 
 Since our friends have approved, nothing now can go ill ; 
 The lover we lent has with them made liis way, 
 And their smiles of content dl our toils overpay. 
 
 (dortaitt. 
 
 Gvi. 
 
 - Pet. 
 
 ilflUUVOBV. 
 
 uvr;iTi». 
 
 OEBTRDDB 
 
 rETBft 
 
Ill's was a 
 Ji'ippiness, 
 
 at I sliall 
 
 ko a tiling 
 t's useless 
 
 1 now ? 
 
 owns thai 
 . wedding 
 
 —but nc 
 
 tbeii* will 
 
 OUR WIFE; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ROSE OF AMIENS 
 
 A COMIC DRAMA 
 
 W 
 TWO ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MADDISON MORTON. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 Friend Waggles — Three Cuckoos — My Preciotis Betsy — Where 
 there's a will there's a way — Jo/ui Dobbs — A most umoarrantable 
 Intrusion, — Going to the Derby — Your Life's in Danger — 
 midnight Watch — Box and Cox — Trumpeter's Wedding — -Done on 
 Both Sides — Poor Pillicoddy — Old Honesty — Yoting England — • 
 King and I — My Wife's Second Floor — Who do they take me for 
 — Double Bedded Boom — The Milliners' Holiday — Wedding 
 Breakfast — Irish Tiger — Attic Sto7'y — Who's the Composer — 
 Who's my Husband — Slasher and Crasher — Prince for an Hour-~ 
 Atomy with Melancholy — Waitirig for an Omnibus — Betsy Baker 
 ^Who stole the 2}Ocket-book — Tzoo Bonnycastles — From Village to 
 "^oxert — Grimshaw, Bagshaw, and Bradshau>-^Rights and Wrongt 
 Y" Wo ficn — Sent to the Tower — 8^0. S^c. 
 
 a 
 
 lieir will ; 
 
 rETBK 
 
 Mm 
 
 BAMUBL FRENCH, 
 
 PHBLISHBIt, 
 
 86, STRAND. 
 
 New Touk: 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 ruBLisuKns, 
 122, NASSAU STREE1. 
 
I#>l 
 
 OUR WIFE ; OR, THE ROSE OF AMIENS. 
 
 First performed at the Royal Princess's Theatre^ 
 An Tuesday, November 18</j, 1856, 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 MARQUIS BE LIGNY, 
 (Captain of the King^s 
 Guards) 
 
 COUNT DE BRISSAC, 
 f his friend J - - - 
 
 POMARliT - 
 
 DUMONT 
 
 FIRST OFFICER - 
 
 SECOND OFFICER 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Ryder; 
 
 Mr. David Fisheb. 
 Mr. Harley. 
 Mr. Raymond. 
 Mr. Terry. 
 Mr. Collett. 
 Mr. Daly. 
 
 ROSINE, {Pomaret's 
 
 DauqhterJ . - - Miss Carlotta Lecleecq. 
 MARIEITE, {her cousin) Miss Murray. 
 
 SCENE— AMIENS. PERIOD— 1634. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 De Ligny. — 3viS cloth Charles II. jacket, scarlet and gold trim- 
 ming ; ivhite gauntlets, crimson velvet breeches, yeliow boots, 
 black hat and white feather, red ribbon ; steel neck piece, 
 sword-belt and sword, ruffles. 
 
 BuissAC. — White cloth jacket, silver buttons, green and silver 
 trimming ; green velvet breeches, cream coloured boots, spurs, 
 crimson and gold sword belt, sword, black hat, white feather, 
 white ribbon, ruffles. 
 
 PoMAiiET. — Black full jacket, red facings ; black breeches, blue 
 stockings, black shoes and red tie ; brown curled wig, drab 
 hat, black feather. 
 
 DuMoNT. — Brown jacket, black breeches, black boots, sword^ 
 black hat. 
 
 Officeus. — Blue velvet jackets, breeches, black boots, hats, 
 feathers, swords. 
 
 GuEKrs. — Various coloured. 
 
 Messengek. — Dark drab velvet jacket and breeches, trimcaed with 
 black, black hat and boots. 
 
 llosihT.. — Pink silk tabbed jacket and skirt, blue trimining; pink 
 hat and blue trimming, shoes. Second Dress, White silk, 
 trimmed with blue. 
 
 JIahriette. — Blue silk, cherry coloured trimming, blue hat and 
 cherry trimming. Second Dress, White silk, cherry trimming, 
 shoes. 
 
 Guests. — Various coloured. 
 
^MlEIJS. 
 
 EB. 
 
 OUR WIFE; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ROSE OF AMIENS. 
 
 'J. 
 
 ECLEECQ. 
 M. 
 
 gold trim- 
 ^llow boots, 
 leck. piece, 
 
 and silver 
 jots, spurs, 
 ite feather, 
 
 'ches, blue 
 wig, drab 
 
 ts, sword, 
 
 ots, hats, 
 
 imedwith 
 
 ing; pink 
 hite silk, 
 
 ; hat and 
 rimming, 
 
 — >*'i' S « ®< < ^ 'T^ 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE. — The Interior of Pomarefs Shop, very hand- 
 somely Jitted up. A counter at l. h. of the stage, on 
 which are silkst rihhons, gloves, perfun^es, ^c , Sfc. Door^ 
 C. — window each side of door, showing the street beyond. 
 Doors, R. H. 1 E. and r. h. 2 e. — door, l. h. 2 e. — a 
 violin hanging near door in c. 
 
 At the rising of the curtain, several of the King's Mtrketeers, 
 in the brilliant costume of the period, enter c. Tht 
 Musketeers striking on the counter. 
 
 IsT Musk. Shop ! — Shop ! — Shop ! — I say ! 
 Musketeers. Yos. Shop ! — Shop ! — Shop ! 
 
 Enter Mariette, hurriedly, at door r. h. 
 
 Mart. Dear' — dear! what a clatter to be sure. (rts<u».) 
 King's Musketeers, I do declare ! They're the best cus- 
 tomers we have, {running up c) Now, noble cavaliers, 
 what can I serve you with? Gloves — silks — ribbons — 
 laces — perfumes ? You've only to ask for what you waut, 
 ^y the money, and there it is. (to Ist Muskexesb.) 
 
 Wbttt 
 
 may you require, tir i 
 
■Hi 
 
 r ".J 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Actl. 
 
 1st Musk. (l. n.) The fair Roslne. 
 
 Mari. Oh! {to 2nd Muski:teeb.) What for you, 
 sir? 
 
 2nd Musk. (r. h.) The fair Rosine. 
 
 Mari. {aside.) Rosine I tlic article is evidently in ^roat 
 ro(|uc'8t. {aloud.) ]iut my cousin — " the fair Rosino," as 
 you call her — isn't up yet. {goes to the lack of counter.) 
 
 1st Musk. Then I'll wait till she is. 
 
 MusKETEKRs. Ay, ay! we'll wait till she is. 
 
 {the MusKETKKiis separate and seat th^mselveit. 
 
 Mart. As lonj^^s my cousin Rosine chooses to servo in 
 the shop, / shouldn't sell a pair of gloves or a yard of rib- 
 bon in a month. I pity their taste ! 
 
 (a trumpet sounds tvithout. 
 
 1st Musk. Hark! there must be news astir to call us 
 to horse at this early hour. 
 
 2nd Musk. It is reported that the Cardinal dc Richelieu 
 is about to take command of the troops, and compel the 
 S])aniards to raise the seige. 
 
 1st Musk. Well, we must away, fto Mariette.) We 
 fihall soon return ; but, remember, though our purses are 
 well filled, not one single livre will find its way into Maitcr 
 Pomaret's pocket, unless his pretty daughter, the Rose of 
 Amiens, is here to serve us. Exeunt Musketeers, c. 
 
 PoMARET. (r. — ivithout.) Dou't toU me ! The shop's 
 full of customers! I'm sure it is — \feel it is ! Where's 
 my wig ? I can't find my wig ! It's all right — iVe 
 got it ! 
 
 He enters door r. h. tj. e., hurriedly putting on his coat. 
 
 Mari. You've found your wig I see, uncle? 
 
 Pom. Yes ; and Mhere d'ye think it was ? You'll never 
 guess. On my head ! It's a positive fact — my wig was 
 on my head ! {crosses l. h.) 
 
 Mari. {tvith pretended astonishment.) You don't say so ? 
 
 Pom. 'Pon my life I'm serious. Such a very out-of-the- 
 way place for a man's wig to be, isn't it ? But we've had 
 customers here — eh, Mariette ? 
 
 \" Mari. Yes, uncle — a whole regiment of the King's 
 Vlusketeers. 
 
Actl. 
 
 t for you. 
 
 ly in groat 
 oslnc," as 
 'ounter.) 
 
 hvnselven. 
 o servo in 
 ird of rib- 
 
 h tvilhout. 
 to call us 
 
 Kicholicu 
 )mpcl the 
 
 :te.) We 
 lurses are 
 to Master 
 le Rose of 
 
 lEEKS, c. 
 
 le shop's 
 
 Where's 
 
 fht—lVe 
 
 his coat. 
 
 '11 never 
 wig was 
 
 say 80 ? 
 ;-of-the- 
 've had 
 
 Act 1. OUR WIFE. 5 
 
 Pom. Noble fellows! they draw their purse-strings as 
 freely as they draw their swords. 
 
 Maui, (b.) Yes, but when the sword's out the scab- 
 bard's empty — purses ditto. 
 
 Pom. Holloa ! Mariette ! Marlettc ! holloa ! This is my 
 ghop, not yours — my business, not yours. Be good enough 
 to remember you're my uncle — I mean that I'm your 
 niece. Well, and what was the article most in request 
 this morning with the gallant Musketeers ? 
 Mari. {sulkily.) One that I couldn't supply them with. 
 Pom. I wasn't awai>e we were out of anything. What 
 was the article ? 
 
 Mari. Cousin Rosine. Not a single purchase would 
 they make because she wasa't here to serve them. Isn't it 
 absurd ? 
 
 Pom. Absurd ! On the contrary, I consider it flattering in 
 the highest degree. Ever so many customers actually walk 
 out of my shop with their money in their pockets because my 
 daughter isn t here to wait upon them ! — It's intonsely 
 gratifying. And so you wdpld think, if you were a father 
 — which you are not. 
 
 Mari. Of what use am I in tile shop if I can't sell any- 
 thing ? 
 
 Pom. Not much, certainly ; but you're ornamental to 9 
 certain degree ; you look well behind a counter — at a dis- 
 tance. I don't wish to flatter you ; but you're not repul- 
 sive. Besides, it's no fault of yours that Rosine happens 
 to put an extinguisher on you. If you'd been my daughter, 
 instead of my niece, you'd probably have been apjiandsome 
 as she is. 
 
 Mari. Well, if admiration can make a young woman 
 happy, Rosine ought to be ; she has a sweetheart for every 
 day m the year. 
 
 Pom. Yes, she has only to pick and choose — the whole 
 town adores her — the young Count de Brissac in parti- 
 cular. 
 
 Mari. He's a charming, delightful young man ! 
 Pom. So he is — so he is ; but we should prefer a mar- 
 quis. Our original intention was not to let ourselves go 
 imder a duke ; but weVe come down a peg. 
 
 Mabi. I suspect we shall have to come down a good 
 
6 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 " * 
 
 IL 
 
 
 many pegs. 1 sliould have thoiiglit that if a mercor'g 
 .^uglitor even coiulesceiidcd to many a eount, she'd liave 
 the hcst of the bargain. 
 
 Pom. Nothing is too good lor llosiiie Slie was actually 
 the subject of conversation at court the other day. IJut, 
 ncverthelesss, I must condescend to attend to business — not 
 that there's much doing, for the Spaniards arc in possession 
 of nearly the whole country round. But I must be off; 
 and if any more customers should come, detiiin them till 
 llosine makes lier appearance. You can chat with them— 
 or flirt with them. 
 
 Mari. Flirt with them ! I like the idea. 
 
 Pom. I thought you did, that's why I mentioned it. 
 Here's my violin left out again. Some accident will hap- 
 pen to it ; do put it away in the case. 
 
 Maui. No, uncle — it is left out for Monsieur Glissade. 
 lie is coming to give llosine her lesson this morning. 
 
 Pom. Well, take care it is not broken. Exity c. andn. n. 
 
 Mari. So cousin Rosine has added another to the list 
 of her victims — the Count de Brissac. There goes another 
 of my admirers. This is the sixteenth time, at least, she's 
 put my nose out of joint in the last three months. Oh, 
 here comes the count. 
 
 Etiter Count de Brissac, c. from r., hurriedly. 
 
 Your servant. Monsieur de Brissac. {making a very low 
 (urtsey.) Your servant, Monsieur de Brissac. f following 
 De Brissac, who looks hurriedly about the stage.) 
 
 Bris. {iiot noticing her.) Thank ye, my good woman. 
 
 ISIari. His good woman ! 
 
 Bris. Just my luck! Whenever I come, there's sure 
 to be nobody in the shop. 
 
 Mari. Nobody ! Well, I rather flatter myself I'm some- 
 body — at any rate, I'm not nobody. 
 
 Bris. (r.) Of course you're not nobody. But how is 
 it, Marictte, that I find you alone in the shop, eh r 
 
 Mari. (l.) Perhaps it's because nobody's with me ; 
 but never mind, I can serve you with anything you want 
 Shall I show you the last new fashion in ribbons, or lace, 
 or gloves, or perfumes? 
 
Act. 1. 
 
 OUR vnvE, 
 
 n some- 
 
 l?;<r8. No, no — I don't want any scents, (impaticyithj.) 
 
 M\Ri. f aside. J I'm not so sure of that. 
 
 B'''s. Tell me, my good Maiiitte, do you think that the 
 flail' which is consuming mo is likely to moot its reward 
 bc'cri' I'm entirely burnt out? Does Rosine retiirn my 
 Jiff <'i'()n? Does snc ever witlidraw herself — within herself, 
 ns II .crc — and gazing intently upon nothini^, as it were, 
 I'xcl liin in tremulous accents, " Oh ! De Brissac ?" or does 
 glu' ever give way to a frantic flow of tears, or an insane 
 paroxysm of laughter? 
 
 -Ma HI. Yes; she was in cunvulsions of laughter yestor- " 
 (lay morning, when your long sword got between your 
 hliort legs and threw you down on your nose in the 
 mud. You certainly did cut a very ridicidous figure — 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Burs, (forcing a laugh.) Ha, ha! But hark! her fairy 
 footstep strikes upon my ear. 
 
 Mari. She's got her creaky shoes on. {crosses n. ii.) 
 
 liius. My good Mariette, if you could suddenly 
 renuMuber that you*ve something very particular to 
 do that would call you away to some other part of these 
 extensive premises, you've no idea how much you would 
 oblige me. 
 
 Mari. I understand. You want mc to go. 
 
 Burs. Oh dear, no — I only don't want you to stop. 
 {taking her hand and leading her towards l. side.) It really 
 grieves me to part with you; {still leading her towards 
 side.) but if you will go, (giving her a push.) of course I 
 can't help it. {pushing her out and closing the L. h. door.) 
 She comes ! the idol of my heart approaches ! {retires c. 
 
 Enter Rosine, door n. 1 e, 
 
 RosiNE. How late I am this morning, to be sure ! Half 
 past nine o'clock, I declare ! My dancing master, Mou- • 
 sieur Glissade, will be here directly, and I haven't prac- 
 tised my last lesson once. He'll be so angry, {looking 
 rou7i(l, but not perceiving the Count.) I 9te papa has left 
 his violin. There's no one here to see me ; why shouldn't 
 I rehearse a little by myself.* I will. Let mc see ; the 
 first thing Monsieur Glissade does is to take his violin ; 
 (Count takes the violin.) he then makes me a very low bow. 
 
I 
 
 ii 
 
 8 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 i 
 
 
 I'.t'i 
 
 (imitating,) which I return with a very gracioui curtsey ; 
 {eurtsayiny.) and telling ine to turn out my toes, he strikes 
 up a preparatory flourish, and tlic dancing lesson at once 
 begins, {putting herself in attitude — the Count giving a 
 Jluur sh on the violin; she turns and sees the Count.) 
 Monsieur lo Corate ! Oh, have you been here all the 
 time ? 
 
 Bkis. (l.) I have. 
 
 RosiNE. (b.) And you never said a word. 
 
 Bris. I couldn't — I was speechless with admiration! 
 The beauty of your person — the swan-like elegance ot your 
 attitude {imitating.) kept me dumb. But you were about 
 to practise your dancing lesson. Let me be your draifiug 
 master — you doubt my ability ? 
 
 RosiNE. No! Kilt I'm afraid yo»i ytrnt't be strict 
 enough. 
 
 Bris. I '/111 — I will. {asi^^.J As this will probably be 
 the only le Json I shall ever give her, she shall have enough 
 of it — she .ihall dance till sl*.e drops, f crosses to r. h. — 
 aloud.) Now then, begin. 
 
 [a dancing U^2*^n is the*' gone through hy Rostne, tvhich 
 
 ultimately becomes a pas de deux — the Covi^T playing 
 
 and dancing at the same time.) 
 
 Bravo ! bravissimo I {banging the bow violently on the back 
 
 of the violin. J And now suppqse we begin and do it all 
 
 over again. 
 
 RosiNE. Not I, indeed. 
 
 Bris. Oh, Rosine, why are you more insensible than 
 this unhappy violin ? Why don't you yield to the violence 
 of my passion ? When — when will you name the happy 
 day that makes me yours — I mean makes you mine — I 
 might say, makes us ours ? Recollect, I've been dying 
 for you for the last six weeks, and I really can't kftcp on 
 dying much longer, 
 
 RosiNE. (l.) Monsieur de Brissac, you say you love 
 e? 
 
 Bris. (r.) I do — to a degree bordering on insanity. 
 
 RosiNE. Now listen to me. Although I'm only a mer- 
 cer's daughter, I am not without ambition ; consequently, 
 I choose to put a certain value on myself. 
 
 Bris- To do you justice, you do. 
 
Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 h 
 
 strict 
 
 KosiNE. Ii' *hc first place, then, I will mnrry no man 
 who is not of noble birth. 
 
 JJius. fpruudly.J I am a De Brissac ! 
 
 KdSiNK. But that's not all. Hu must also be young, 
 rich, and tolerably good looking. 
 
 Buis. I am young, rich, and tolerably good looking 
 I may say very tolerably good looking ! 
 
 KosiNE. But that's not all. I must have a splendid hotel 
 in Paris — a noble chateau in the country — a profusion of 
 beautiful diamonds — and a magnificent coach and six. 
 
 {crossing to u. ii. 
 
 Bins. You shall have a coach and sixteen. 
 
 IlosiNE. And above all, he must become my husband 
 with the full approbation of his noble family ! 
 
 Bris. Of course! I've already got the consent of my 
 two aunts and my grandmother, and that's all the family 
 I have. 
 
 llosiNE. Indeed ! I thought you had a father ? 
 
 Bris. Eh ? Yes ! by-the-bye, so I have ! I quite forgot 
 my father ! Then, adorable Rosine, with these conditions 
 fulfilled, you will be mine ? 
 
 Rosine. Why, Monsieur le Comte, I cannot, of course, 
 but feel flattered by such proofs of your aficctiou, but then, 
 you see, there arc so many other fine gentlemen — who say 
 they adore me quite as much as you do. 
 
 Bris. But, of course, you don't believe them — you 
 can't be so utterly, so hopelessly insane as to believe 
 them. 
 
 Rosine. Why shouldn't I ? 
 
 Bris. (vehemently.) Why shouldn't you? Why 
 shouldn't you ? She says why shouldn't she ! Oh, Rosine ! 
 Rosine ! Why did fate and my friend the Marquis de 
 Ligny ever bring me into your presence, by bringing me 
 into your shop ? 
 
 Rosine. The Marquis de Ligny ! ^ ,^^ 
 
 Bris. Yes ! You must have observed him ! 
 
 Rosine. {aside.) Heigho ! I'm afraid I have, (aloud.) 
 Oh, yes, I think I have seen him ! a short, stout, elderly 
 gentleman — isn't he ? 
 
 Bris. No, no ! A remarkably fine man, a different style 
 of beauty from mine! but nevertheless very handsome. 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 1. 
 

 m 
 
 iit 
 
 1; 
 
 
 10 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 I once had the good fortune to save his life, and we've 
 been bosom friends ever since. 
 
 RosiNE. ftvith interest. J You saved his life ? 
 
 Bris. Yes, from a watery grave! we were walkin;^ 
 together one day, on the banks of the Garonne, when liis 
 foot suddenly slipped, and he was as suddenly precipitatt d 
 into the torrent. '* Can you swim ? " said I. " No ! " said 
 he. " That's unlucky," said I. " Very ! " said he. " Can 
 you y" said he. " Yes," said I — and instantly plunged in 
 after him, clothes and all ; I seized ray drowninp: fric nd 
 by the hair of his head — unfortunately it came off in my 
 hand. 
 
 RosiNE. His head? 
 
 Bris. No! his wig! Nevertheless, I grappled with 
 him again, when I was suddenly seized with the cramp, 
 and should inevitably have gone to the bottom if the 
 Marquis, who by that time had recovered his presence of 
 mind, had not supported me in his arms, and brought mo 
 safe to land — and that was how I saved his life. 
 
 RosiNE. I should say that was how he saved yours. It 
 was a noble, generous action, indeed ! 
 
 Bris. No — no! I only did my duty. But it wasn't to 
 talk of the Marquis that I Oime here — ^but of you — of me— 
 of us. I have written to my aged sire for his consent to 
 our marriage, and I expect his answer this very day. 
 
 Enter Pomaret, c. from l. with an open letter. 
 
 Pom. (c.) And here it is. 
 
 Bris. He consents — say he consents, and I'll embrace 
 you ! I'll embrace you several times. 
 
 Pom. You shall judge for yourself — I will read your 
 aged sire's letter, verbatim, (readi.) " Monsieur Pomaret, 
 my son informs me that he is enamoured of your daughter, 
 and earnestly solicits ray consent to his raarriage. How 
 can I possibly object to a young lady of whom I know 
 nothing." 
 
 Bris. (i.) There's a sensible father for you. 
 
 Pom. {reading.) " I therefore leave the matter entirely 
 in your band*-— merely observing, that if the marriage 
 
Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 11 
 
 Bhould take place, you will inevitably spend the remainder 
 of your days in the Bastile." 
 
 RosiNB. (b., alarmed.) The Bastile! Oh, how 
 dreadful. 
 
 Buis. Oh, dear, no ! not at all ! Besides, {to Pomaret.) 
 as you are evidently sinking rapidly into the grave, what 
 can it possibly signify to you where you spend the brief 
 remnant of your wretched existence ! And then, think of 
 the unspeakable satisfaction of sacrificing yourself for 
 your daughter's happiness. 
 
 Pom. (c.) True ! I never thought of that. But you 
 see, being a man of domestic habits, and not caring to 
 extend my present geographical knowledge, I had just as 
 leave stop where I am. Strange infatuation, isn't it ? 
 consequently, Monsieur le Comte, you will oblige me by 
 iust'intly removing yourself from this domicile and never 
 shewing your face here again. 
 
 llosiNE. (r.) My dear father ! This is absurd. 
 
 Bris. (l.) Of course its absurd! you barbarous old 
 savage you must be joking. Renounce Rosine ! never ! 
 Leav3 your shop ? never ! If i can't remain here as your 
 (laughter's lover, I'll stop here as your customer — Ila, ha ! 
 I've got you there ! As a shopkeeper you can't refuse to 
 serve me. {takes a chaity and seats himself in the middle of 
 the stage — Pomerat goes behind counter.) Therefore, 
 worthy man, bring out everything you've got, and one 
 at a time. I'm not in the slightest hurry ! First, we'll 
 begin with the glove department. (Rosine goes to the 
 hack of counter.) My intention is to try on every pair 
 you've got in the shop — that'll take about six weeks ! Now 
 hen, you contemptible shopkeeper, are you going to 
 cep a customer waiting all day ? Where are your gloves ^ 
 
 oduce your gloves, {violently.) 
 
 Pom. I'm out of gloves. 
 
 Bins. Very well — then I'll stop here till you've got a 
 fresh supply. 
 
 Pom. No, no ! I find I have got a few left, (presenting 
 a parcel of gloves to Brissac.) 
 
 Bris. {turning over the gloves.) These ? Pooh ! pooh ! 
 These won't do at all. {tossing the gloves about on the stage.) 
 Now let me look at your ribbons, {suddenly to Pomaret, 
 
tm>^. 
 
 12 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1 
 
 lii I 
 
 \\\ I 
 
 ■■I I 
 
 v>ho is advancing.) Let me look at your ribbons, /'toy 
 ffiolentlyJ) 
 
 Pom. Oh, lud! VLQre^'RoBiinQ. {handing box of ribbons to 
 BosiNE ) 
 
 RosiNE. {shewing ribbons to Brissac.) Here are some 
 Tery beautiful patterns, Monsieur. 
 
 Bkis. {assumifig a patronising tone and manner.) Tliank 
 you, friend Poraaret, you've got a very pretty dauglitcr I 
 takes after her mother I presume ? I must trouble your 
 delicate fingers to pin these various coloured ribbons to 
 different parts of my dress, in order that I may judge of 
 the effect. 
 
 {while RosiNE is pinning on the ribbons^ Brissac /hisses 
 her hand repeatedly. Pomaket tries to inter/ere, but 
 gets his Jingers pricked. 
 
 Pom. There — there ! that'll do ! iFcry well ! and now, 
 perhaps, you'll — ^pointing to the door. J 
 
 Bris. Go? oh dear no! I haven't half done yet! I 
 intend being stuck all over with ribbons from the crown of 
 my head to the soles of my feet ! ha, ha, ha ! ftrmm- 
 phantly.J And what's more, I won't budge from your 
 shop till I am ! Ha, ha, ha ! {again laughing triumphantly.) 
 
 Pom. Oh ! you won*t, won't you ? Very well ! (calling.) 
 Mariette ! Mariette ! 
 
 Enter Mariette, running^ L. 1 E. 
 
 Mari. Yes, uncle ! 
 
 Pom. You'll be good enough to wait on this gentleman, 
 and stick him over with ribbons from the crown of his feet 
 to the soles of bis head, (crosses behind'RosiNE — talies her 
 arm under his.) I'm much obliged for your custom, sir, 
 I'm sure ! the more money you spend, of course — the 
 better for me ! My daughter and I, sir, have the honour 
 to wish you a very good morning ! We shut up shop at 
 four o'clock, sir, but if you shouldn't have completed your 
 numerous purchases by that time you'll find Mariette here 
 the first thing in the morning, and if you should be 
 writing to your aged sire, perhaps you'll mention that I've 
 taken his hint about the Bastile. My daughter and I, sir, 
 once more have the honour to wish you a very good morn- 
 ing. 
 
re are some 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 18 
 
 RosiNE. f aside.) Poor young man, he docs look so very 
 fiheepish ! 
 
 (PoMARET takes Rosine off^ inaldng a very low and 
 obsequious how to Brissac, door^ r. 1 E. 
 
 Bris. (kisses his hand to Rosine, till she disappears.) 
 She's gone! perhaps for ever ! fffoes l. h.) And tliis is 
 the work of the man who calls himself my father, fwalldng 
 to and fro. J 
 
 Mari. ftvho has beenfolloiving him about, with a hunch 
 of ribbons in one ha7id, and a paper of pins in the other.) I 
 beg your pardon, sir, but I've been trotting after you for 
 the last five minutes, with a bunch of ribbons in one hand 
 and a paper of pins in the other. 
 
 Bris. {wildbj.) Leave me ! 
 
 Mari. But I was told to receive your orders ! 
 
 Bris. You have received them ! leave me ! (^still more 
 wildly.) 
 
 Mari. {alarmed.) Oh, ludl {runs out hastily, door^ 
 
 L. H. 1 E. 
 
 Bris. {pathetically.) Even she deserts me ! I'm in that 
 state of nervous irritation that I could quarrel with the 
 best friend I have in the world ! 
 
 {during the above speech, the Marquis de Ligny has 
 entered c, he is m the splendid costume of a Captain of 
 Musketeers. 
 
 Ligny. (l. h. laying his hand on the Count's 
 shoulder ) I am sorry to hear that, De Brissac, because the 
 best friend you have in the world is myself, and I am not 
 aware how I can have offended you. 
 
 Bris. (r. h., grasping his hand.) My dear marquis, I'm 
 delighted to see you ! delighted beyond measure — so good 
 bye. 
 
 Ligny. {laughing.) '* Delighted to see me" and 
 " good bye " in the same breath. Where are you going 
 in such a violent hurry ? 
 
 Bris. I haven't quite made up my mind, but the proba- 
 bility is that I shall amuse myself by climbing up to the 
 very summit of something or other, and precipitating 
 myself headlong into whatever happens to be below. 
 
 Ligny. Why, what's the matter with your you look 
 the very concentrated picture of misery. 
 
(jwrr, 
 
 l^i 11! 
 
 ! II I ' 
 
 |lil| 
 
 ! f 
 
 * 
 
 ii 
 
 H|i 
 
 14 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Actl. 
 
 Bris. (c.) Thank you — thank you! {shahny Dp, 
 Liony's hand.) You can't delight mc more than by telUng 
 me I am a wretched looking object. 
 
 LiGNY. Why, you ought to be about the happiest 
 fellow in the world. 
 
 Bris. And so I should be — unspeakably happy if I 
 •wasn't unutterably wretched. 
 
 LiGNY But, why — why? 
 
 Bris. Listen ; and prepare for a dreadful shock ! I love 
 and am beloved. 
 
 LiGNY. Well, there's nothing very dicadful in that ! 
 
 Brjs. No ! the horrible part of it has got to conic. 
 [grasping De Ligny's haiid.) They would tear us 
 asunder. 
 
 LiG>iY. They ! who? 
 
 Bris. Two flinty hearted fathers — mine and Rosine's ! 
 
 LiGNY. Rosine ? old Pomaret's daughter ? the lair 
 Rose of Amiens ! is it she you love ? 
 
 Bris. Yes! What's to be done. (Jiurriedly.) Friend of 
 my bosom, what's to be dono? 
 
 LiGNY. Why as you can't conveniently get another 
 father, suppose you try another mistress ? Rosine is not 
 the only woman in the world. 
 
 Bris. Yes she is, in my eyes she constitutes the entire 
 female sex — that's the melancholy part of it. Now con- 
 fess ! is there a more unhappy gentleman than I am in 
 France ! 
 
 LiGNY. Yes — I ! at least, I might be if I chose. But 
 you should look misfortune in the face, and laugh at it as 
 I do. Ha, ha, ha I 
 
 Bris. {forcmg a laugh.) Ha, ha, ha! {with a grimace.) 
 It's no use, I can't! But now I think of it you certainly 
 haven't been in your usual spirits since you returned from 
 your last visit to Paris. 
 
 LiGNY. {hastily ) Enough — enough ! De Brissac, I love 
 you too well to desert you in a moment of difficulty ; now 
 tell mc, and examine well your heart before you answer 
 me — this love for the fair Rosine, is it not rather one of 
 those ephemeral passions which exist to-day and are gone 
 to-morrow ? 
 
 Bris. No — no — no ! I feel I shall love her as long as I 
 live, and a considerable time after. 
 
•Act 1. I Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 15 
 
 LioNY. And you have reason to believe that she k)ve8 
 you ? 
 
 Hkis. ro distraction! she adores the very ground I 
 tread upon. 
 
 LiGNY. And you think that your father would consent 
 to your marriage, if the lady, instead of being a simple 
 mercer's daughter, were a baroness, or a countess : 
 
 liuis. Or even a marchioness ! my o})inion is, that he 
 wouldn't turn up his nose at a marchioness. 
 
 LiGNY. Then you shall marry her ! 
 
 Bris. Marry her ? 
 
 LiGNY. I swear it ! 
 
 Bris. But, how — how ? 
 
 LiGNY". That's my afliiir! 
 
 Bris. But what's your plan? 
 
 LiGNY. That's no business of yours, {shoitting .) What 
 ho ! within there I 
 
 Bris. Well, but my very dear friend — 
 
 LiGNY. Hold your tongue ! Within there, I say ! 
 
 Mariette. ftviihoui.) Coming — coming! {runs tn, 
 L. I. E.) Beg pardon, for keeping you waiting, Fm sure! 
 
 LiGNY. Tell Monsieur Pomaret I require his presence 
 here immediately. 
 
 Mari. Yes, sir. {crosses r.) Who shall I say sir?, 
 
 LiGNY. The Marquis de Ligny ! 
 
 Mari. A marquis ! oh, lud ! Uncle Pomaret is very 
 busy, sir, perhaps I could do as well, {curtseying.) 
 
 Ligny. I repeat, I wish to see Monsieur Pomaret. 
 
 Bris. {aside to Mariette.) And if you should see 
 Rosine, tell her it's all right. 
 
 Mari. What's all right? 
 
 Bris. Why, she's all right — I'm all right — we're all 
 all right; go, go! {pushes Mariette off at sidedoor^ r. h.) 
 Once more, my very dear friend, will you explain ? 
 
 Ligny. Once more, my equally dear friend, will you 
 hold your tongue? I pledge you my honour that you 
 shall marry Rosine, with your father's full consent. Does 
 that satisfy you : .... 
 
 Bris. Of course it does. 
 
 Ligny, And you leave the matter entirely ii. my 
 hands? 
 
 :i- 
 
 i^' 
 
 'U 
 
 ♦ r 
 
16 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1 
 
 I ' ' 
 
 I .: 
 
 I il 
 
 Bbis. Of course I do. 
 
 LiGNY. Then oblige me by going about your business. 
 
 Bris. Couldn't I be present at the interview ? I should 
 so like to see how you're going to manage it. 
 
 LiGNY. Impossible ! I must have a clear stage. >So, 
 as I said before, go. {crosses^ b.) 
 
 Bris. And when may I come back? 
 
 LioNY. In a quarter of an hour, 
 wiis. Couldn't you make it ten minutes? I'll go and 
 take up a position in the market-place, and keep my eyes 
 rivetted on the town clock. Noble, generous friend I fare- 
 well, for fifteen minutes, f grasping and shaking De Lion y's 
 hand — about to embrace him. J No, I won't embrace you, 
 |>f «r,.'o,j i^ will take up time. {runs out, c. and k. 
 
 I<T>K-v. Yes. De Brissac, you shall find my friendship 
 son)' tui' 1^" more than a mere name. And, since the inex- 
 orable cardl-ii)! has pronounced my doom, and my fate is 
 inov *^^b^e — 
 
 PoMAiviir. {^u>ii^ y- f.) A marquis, did you say? A real 
 marquis ? 
 
 Enter Pomabet, r. h. d. 
 
 Your lordship's most obedient, {seeing De Ligny — aside.) 
 The Marquis dc Ligny, the Count de Brissac's most par- 
 ticular friend. I see — he has sent him here to try and 
 coax me over about his marriage with Rosine, but I'm not 
 going to get myself locked up in the Bastile to please any- 
 body, not even a marquis. 
 
 Ligny. Monsieur Pomaret, may I request your attention 
 to what I have to say ? 
 
 Pom. {bowing.) I am all ears, {aside.) He might just 
 as well talk to a deafy. 
 
 Ligny. You have a very charming daughter. 
 
 Pom. Your lordship only echoes the universal opinion — 
 but we're a handsome family. 
 
 Ligny. Yes ; I have heard that her mother was very 
 lovely. 
 
 Pom. {aside.) Rather a rude remark of the marquis. 
 
 Ligny. But we are digressing. I presume the fair 
 fiosine has not registered an oath against matrimony. 
 
 Pom. {aside.) I knew what was coming. 
 
^ 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 17 
 
 LiGNY. And I equally presume, Monsieur Pomaret, that 
 if a gentleman of birth and fortune were to solicit the 
 honour of becoming your son-in-iaw, you would not be 
 unwilling to accept him. 
 
 Pom. {aside.) He's trying all he can to reconcile me to 
 the Bastile, but it won't do. (aloud.) Certainly not, mar- 
 quis, provided, I say, provided, the gentleman's father 
 consented to receive Rosine as his daughter-in-law. 
 
 LiGNY There can be no obstacle on that score, for the 
 gentleman I allude to has no father. 
 
 Pom. Goodness gracious ! You don't mean to say he's 
 defunct ? 
 
 LiGNY. He was killed on the field of battle, twenty 
 years ago. 
 
 Pom. Go along ! Why, I received a letter from him, 
 half-an-hour ago. 
 
 LiGNY. A letter from my father? 
 
 Pom. (tvith a violent start.) Your father! Gracious 
 goodness ! You don't mean — rnu of.n't mean to say that 
 you are the gentleman who — 
 
 LiGNY. Yes, Monsieur Pomaret, I, Henri, Marquis de 
 Ligny, Count of Neville, and Baron do Belleville, do hereby 
 offer my hand in marriage to your daughter Rosine. Do 
 you consent ? 
 
 Pom. Do I ? — Don't I ? Here's an honour ! Rosine a 
 marchioness ! It's too much ! Allow me to touch your 
 hand — the extremest tips of your fingers ! (aside.) Father- 
 in-law to a marquis ! Alive ! all alive, oh ! 
 
 LiGNY. Then you accept my proposal ? 
 
 Pom. I jump at it, marquis. Would you like to see 
 me jump at it, marquis ? I'll run and tell everybody ! 
 
 Ligny. One moment. There is a condition attached to 
 this marriage. 
 
 Pom. I consent to it, marquis. What is it, niiu-quis ? 
 
 Ligny. That it takes place this very day— * this very 
 hour. 
 
 Pom. Is that all, marquis ? It shall take place this very 
 minute, if you like, f going. J 
 
 Ligny. Stay ! There is one very important person in 
 this business that we have entirely overlooked — your 
 daughter ! Will Rosine accept my hand ? 
 
 Pom. Will she? Won't she? Besides, marquis, if you'll 
 
 ill 
 
 a- 
 
 t?i 
 
 n 
 
18 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 
 
 ill'!'' 
 
 ilf 
 
 
 f: :* 
 
 V.I )• 
 
 IVk-' III 
 
 i. 
 
 not let it go any farther, my belief is that she has lon^ 
 been secretly and ardently attached to you. (aside.) I don't 
 
 believe she's ever seen him, but never mind that, {calling.) 
 Rosine ! Rosine ! You're wanted in the shop ! Rosine, 
 I say ! 
 
 £nter Rosine, hastily^ e. h. d., followed by Ma.riette. 
 
 Rosine. Here I am, father ; though it's rather hard I 
 should be at the beck and call of every customer, {pouting. 
 
 Pom. Ah! but we don't get such a customer as this 
 every day. 
 
 Maui, {seeing De Ligny — aside to Rosine.) It's the 
 Marquis de Ligny ! 
 
 Rosine. The Marquis de Ligny ! Oh, monsieur ! 
 
 {making a very low curtsey to De Ligny. 
 
 Ligny. Mademoiselle ! {making a low how to Rosine.) 
 
 Pom. Yes, my beloved daughter, you stand in the 
 presence of the illustrious Marquis de Ligny, Count cf 
 Neville, and Baron de Belleville. 
 
 Mari. Three of them ! Where are the other two ? 
 
 {looking about. 
 
 Pom. Tlie marquis and I have been talking about you, 
 my child, and the result of our deliberation is, that you 
 are to be married in three quarters of an hour ! 
 
 Rosine. Man-ied ! I ! — in three quarters of an hour ! 
 
 Pom. Well, to give you ample time to prepare for this 
 momentous epoch in your existence, we'll say an hour. I 
 think we may give her an hour, marquis. Eh, marquis ? 
 
 Mari. (aside to Rosine.) Don't you see? The Count 
 de Brissac has sent his friend, the marquis, here to plead 
 his cause, and your father has relented. I wouldn't be 
 married off hand in this sort of way. 
 
 Rosine. Nor will L 
 
 Mari. That's right — be a man ! 
 
 Rosine. I will, (aloud, and looking at De Ligny.) 
 When I need advice as to the disposal of my hand, I will 
 ask for it ; until then I shall consider any interference in 
 the matter as a very great liberty, from whatever quarter 
 it may come, {with strong intention.) 
 
 Mari. {aside.) I should like to know how he feels afta» 
 that ! ' • ............ 
 
 ir 
 
Act i. 
 
 has long 
 fe.) I don't 
 . {calling.) 
 Rosine, 
 
 4.RIETTE. 
 
 icr hard I 
 
 {pouting. 
 
 Lcr as this 
 
 ) It's the 
 3ur! 
 
 E LlGNT. 
 
 Rosine.) 
 
 d in the 
 
 Count cf 
 
 two? 
 ing about. 
 ibout you, 
 
 that you 
 
 an hour! 
 •6 for this 
 
 hour. I 
 aarquis ? 
 he Count 
 ! to plead 
 uldm't be 
 
 LiGNY.) 
 
 i, I will 
 srcnce in 
 r quarter 
 
 eels 2Sto9 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 VH 
 
 LioNT. (/o PoMARET.) Heyday! how's this? Fiends 
 and furies, sir, you've been imposing on me. 
 
 Pom. No — no — no! (/o Rosixe.) But Rosine — Rosine 
 —such a magnificent offer — you'll never get such another. 
 
 Rosine. Perhaps not, but you may inform Monsieur 
 de Brissac that my firm resolution is taken. 
 
 Pom. Monsieur de Brissac ! what's he to do with it ? 
 That for Monsieur de Brissac. {snapping his Jingers.) It's 
 my illustrious friend, the marquis himself, whu does you 
 the honour of "popping" to you. 
 
 Rosine. The marquis! {aside.) Am I dreaming? 
 
 Maki. f aside. J There's luck ! she no sooner snubs a 
 count, than up turns a marquis. 
 
 LioNY. {coldly, and respectfully to Rosine.) Yes, 
 mademoiselle, and I did venture to hope that you would 
 not reject my suit. 
 
 Pom. Nor does she — she blushes — she looks down! 
 {aside to Rosine.) Why don't you blush and look down ! 
 you'll never be such a simpleton as to refuse him; besides, 
 see how his manly bosom is swelling with agitation, {aside 
 to Marquis.) could you conveniently allow your manly 
 bosom to swell with agitation ? 
 
 LiGNT. Time presses! the hour of my fate draws on. 
 {aloud.) Your answer, mademoiselle. 
 
 Rosine. (very modestly to Marquis.) Ofcourse it's ray 
 duty to obey my honoured father in all things, and if he 
 wishes that I should accept your hand — 
 
 Pom. If? what do you mean by " if ?" Ofcourse your 
 honoured father does! (takes Rosine's Aanrf, then Db 
 Ligny's, and joins them. J Bless you, my children — bless 
 you ; {affecting to weep, and making a very wry face, then 
 suddenly, with great glee.) And now, h«y for the lawyer 
 and the marriage contract. 
 
 Rosine. So soon ? 
 
 LiGNY. It is absolutely necessary — indispensable ! 
 
 Pom. (r. c.) You're not going to object again. 
 
 Rosine. No ! it's my honoured father's wish ! 
 
 Pom. Ofcourse it is! Tell all our friends and neighbours. 
 Go! fto Mariettb. r., who is running off, c.J Stop! 
 Call in at the " Cardinal's Head," over the way, 
 and order a sumptuous marriage feast — every possible 
 
 1*1 
 
 I 
 
 .1'* i 
 
 <.( .il » , i .^j;.,i 
 
|i ■! 
 
 20 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Actl. 
 
 delicacy, f aside to her. J For which ray noble aon-in-law 
 will pay. (aloud. J And, Mariette, secure the large room 
 in the Town Hall for a magnificent ball to-night ! f aside.) 
 For which my noble son-in-law will also pay. f aloud.) 
 And, Mariette, run round to all the churches — thoro are 
 only five-and-twenty of them, and set the bells ringing— 
 and, Mariette — that'll do ! 
 
 Mari. What a pity you can't think of something else. 
 
 Exit c. 
 
 Pom. Come, Rosine, we haven't time to prepare 
 magnificent wedding d^ess fit for a marchioness, but pure 
 white muslin will do — veils and wreaths we have plenty 
 of ! Salute your illustrious husband. 
 
 LiQNY. {kisses Rosine's hand, as she makes him a very 
 low curtsey — aside.) She's very lovely ! Happy — happy 
 De Brissac. 
 
 Rosine. (aside.) Happy — happy Rosine ! 
 
 {she is led out hy Pomaret, door r. h., tuho again 
 returns, and clasps the Marquis in his arms two or 
 three times, and then trots out after Rosine. 
 
 Enter De Brissac, hastily, c. from r. 
 
 Bris. (r.) Here I am, punctual to half a seond! Well, 
 my dear friend — well ? don't keep me in suspense if you 
 love me ! 
 
 LiGNY. (r. — very calmly.) Everything is settled. 
 
 Bris. Best of men come to my arms ! But how did 
 you manage it ? You clever creature ! how did you 
 manage it f 
 
 LiGNY. Simply enough ! I saw Monsieur Pomaret— 
 made a formal proposal for his daughter's hand — he con- 
 sented, and in an hour's time — 
 
 Bris. {triumphantly.) I shall lead her to the altar. 
 
 LiGNY. No ! / shall lead her to the altar. 
 
 Bris. You ! Oh, yes, I see ! You'll lead her to the 
 altar, and there / shall marry her. 
 
 LiGNY. You're wrong again. / shall marry her. 
 
 Bris. 1 say, my dear friend, no nonsense ! I'm not in 
 a state to stand any nonsense. 
 
 LiGNY. I'm perfectly serious! In an hour's time 
 Rosine will be my wife. 
 
 Bris. Then, my beloved friend, you're an atrocious 
 
Actl. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 21 
 
 humbug, after 
 
 ) 
 
 all ! You promise mc that I shall many 
 Rosine — 
 
 LiGNY. {imiltng.) So you shall. 
 
 Bbis. {indignantly.) What! after you ? Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 LiGNY. {very quietly.) Yes, after me. 
 
 Beis. Well, of all the cool things I ever heard in my 
 life ! De Ligny, you're a traitor, {violently.) 
 
 LiGNY. Pshaw ! I tell you once more, it's all right. 
 
 Bbis. All right! he tells mc to go about my business 
 for a quarter of an hour, which, like an ass, I do, proposes } 
 to the woman I adore, and then coolly says, " it's all 
 right." (i» a state of desperation^ and drawing his sword.) 
 Defend yourself. {distant music without. 
 
 Ligny. Pshaw! {grasping De Brissac's arm^ and 
 leading him /ortoard, then aside to him.) De Brissac, you 
 have torn from me a secret which, otherwise, would have 
 perished with me ! Listen, De Brissac to the words of a 
 dying man, for in a few short hoiu-s — 
 
 Enter the Musketeebs, c* 
 
 we are interrupted — another time, ^crosses to ii.) 
 Bbis. No, no, no ! Now, or never. 
 
 {detaining De Ligny. 
 
 (All surround De Ligny, and congratulate him — De 
 
 Bbissac trying in vain to obtain a hearing — at this 
 
 moment Mabiette, Pomarefs Fbiends and 
 
 Neighboubs, in holiday costumes^ come hastily on, c, 
 
 and PoMABET himself appears, B. i)., leading Rosine 
 
 in bridal attire — the women surround and congratulate 
 
 Rosine. 
 
 Females. Long life, and much joy to you, dear Rosine. 
 
 Pom. {with great self-importance.) Ahem ! friends and 
 
 neighbours, you are welcome ! Permit me to present you 
 
 my noble and illustrious son-in law, the Marquis de 
 
 Ligny. 
 
 Bbis. {who has advanced close behind Pomabet.) 
 Never ! {in a voice of thunder. Pomabet hastily jumps 
 aside.) I demand your daughter. She's mine ! I love 
 her — she loves me — so give her to me, you contemptible 
 retailer of gloves and ribbons. 
 LiQNT. (l. h., interfering.) De Brissac! 
 
 li 
 
 li 
 

 Il 
 
 Pi* 
 
 |i N 
 
 22 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Bbts. Avaunt ! false, perfidious friend ! 
 
 Pom. (e. c.) My dear Count — 
 
 Bris. Silence, you atrocious, mercenary old mercer. 
 
 LiONY. Once more, Dc Brissac, I pledge you my 
 honour — 
 
 Bris. I know what you're going to say — you're foin;; 
 to tell me again that it's all right, but I happen to v 
 
 it's all wrong ! Rosine, I appeal to you ! 
 
 IlosiNE. {aside.) Poor young man ! but as I said before, 
 I must obey my father. 
 
 {crosses to Dk Liony, and gives him her hand. 
 
 Bris. {laughing hysterically.) Ha, ha! deceived — be- 
 trayed by all ! Never mind — I won't leave you! I'll stick 
 to you both like your shadows — I'll follow you to church 
 — to the very altar — I'll forbid the banns, and if tlie 
 priest won't listen to me, I'll run him through the body 
 — I'll run everybody through everybody's body. 
 
 Liony. {aside.) There's but one course to pursue, 
 {aloud.) Monsieur de Brissac — your disrespect to me, your 
 commanding ofl&cer, cannot, must not be overlooked ' ju 
 will consider yourself under arrest till further c ^. 
 Gentlemen, away with him. 
 
 Musks. Come along — it's all right. 
 
 {to De Brissac, and taking him by the arms. 
 
 Bris. {struggling to free himi^eU.) All right — don't talk 
 to me. Rosine — Rosine ! 
 
 {the Musketeers seize and drag De Brissac q^, c, 
 who is almost frantic with rage. 
 
 Rosine. {to Marquis. ; Oh, sir, have pity — 
 
 LiGNY. Fear not ! in a few minutes he shall be restored 
 to liberty, {aside.) and to happiness, (aloud. J Come ! for- 
 ward! 
 
 [Music. — The Marquis leads Rosine up the stuye^ 
 followed by Pomaret and his Guests. 
 
 BND OF ACT THE FIRST 
 
 ' T 
 
 r-; 
 
 . v: 
 
 .'-f^ilh {': 
 
 
Act 2. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 n 
 
 ACT IT. 
 
 SCENE. — An ante-room in the Town Hall of Ainiemy 
 illuminated. Window, c, with balcony ; doors, r. and l. 
 Lighted candtlabraa hanging on wall on each side oj 
 ivindoWy at c. 
 
 Music — Enter Pomaiwit, r. h. door. 
 
 Pom. There never was such a ball seen in Amiens be- 
 fore — never! One hundred and twenty-six candles — all 
 alight at the same time. — I counted them myself! And all 
 in honour of my daughter, the marchioness. I can't repeat 
 the words too often — my daughter, the marchioness ! 
 What a magnificent mouthful ! Ah, she comes ! Room 
 
 there for the bride- 
 chioness !" 
 
 -room for 
 
 " my dp 
 
 ijhtcr, the mar- 
 
 RosiNE enters in an elegant costume, follotved by 
 Mabiette, r. h. door. 
 
 RosiNE. (aside ^ Poaiaret, ud anxiously. J My dear 
 father, is not this protracted absence of the marquis, my 
 husband, most strange, most unaccountable ? The mar- 
 riage ceremony was scarce performed when he pleaded his 
 military duties as a reason for his temporary absence ; and 
 now the ball is half over, and he has not yet made 
 his appearance — 
 
 Mari. (r. h.) Surely he is not neglecting you already. 
 
 Pom. (l. h.) No, no, no ! 
 
 Mari. It looks uncommonly like it. 
 
 Po.M. to (Mariette.) Hold your tongue, if you please. 
 
 Mari. I presume I may be allowed to open my mouth? 
 
 Pom. You may open it as wide as you like, provided 
 you don't say anything. 
 
 RosiNE. I'll scold him so, when he does come, {sits.) 
 
 Pom. Do — scold him so, by all means. But recollect, 
 Rosine, the marquis is a soldier, and military routine must 
 he attended to 
 
 I 
 
24 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 1:1 
 
 ''j 
 
 fjf 
 
 RosiNE. Routine! What is that? 
 
 Pom. Why, military routine is — 'pon my life I don't 
 exactly know what it is, nor anjbody else. {Music.) But 
 never mind, the ball is about to re-commence ; and see* 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen enter door b. h. 
 
 here come our handsomest and gayest cavaliers, each 
 anxious to secure for his partner my daughter, the mar- 
 chioness — the queen of the revels, {taking centre.) Ahem! 
 ladies and gentlemen, I liave a communication to make 
 which I will endeavour to convey in terms suitable to the 
 solemnity of the occasion, (great interest and curiosity on 
 the part of the Guests.) Supper's ready ! 
 
 (a general move is about to take place. 
 
 The Marquis enters , door l. h., hurriedly. All bow and 
 
 curtsey to him. 
 
 LiGNY. {taking Rosine's hand and kissing it.) A thou- 
 sand pardons, dear Rosine, for so prolonged an absence ; 
 but it was forced upon me by a soldier's duty, {aside.) She 
 is, indeed, lovely, {turns to Guests.) Friends, you are most 
 welcome. 
 
 Pom. Ahem ! I again reiterate the interesting fact I 
 mentioned just now — supper's ready. 
 
 {the Mabquis takes Rosine's hand, and is about *o lead 
 her off.) 
 
 At this moment Dumont enters^ door l. h., and making a 
 military salute to the Mabquis, places a paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 Dumont. {in a rough tone.) Paper. 
 
 LioNY. From whom ? 
 
 Dumont. Don't know, {s^oes up l. h.) 
 
 LiGNY. {opening and reading paper — aside.) Ah! can 
 it be possible? {aloud.) Monsieur Pomaiet, lead your 
 daughter to the banquet, I will follow you immediately. 
 
 Rosine. {pouting.) Oh, pray don't hurry yourself, my 
 lord, on my account — T beg ! 
 
 LiGNY. Nay, Rosine, a most important despatch, I assure 
 you, and one that requires immediate attention. 
 
Act 2. I Act 2. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 25 
 
 my life I don't 
 J. {Music.) But 
 uence ; and seei 
 
 or B. H. 
 
 cavaliers, each 
 ighter, the mar- 
 
 centre.) Ahem! 
 
 ication to make 
 suitable to the 
 and curiosity on 
 
 7ut to take place. 
 y. All how and 
 
 nng it.) A thou- 
 ged an absence ; 
 uty. {aside.) She 
 ids, you are most 
 
 iteresting fact I 
 
 i is about *o lead 
 
 I., and making a 
 a paper in his 
 
 iside.) Ah! can 
 laiet, load your 
 L immediately. 
 rry yourself, my 
 
 ?spatch, I assure 
 ition. 
 
 (PoMARET taket Rosine's liand — the Inoha nppfnlin!/?^f 
 at the Marquis as she is led out. r. ^t/l the Guests 
 Jollow. M.VRIETTE is left wtthout a cavnlier.^i 
 
 Maui, (^satirically.) Of course ! [asidf/ This comes of 
 miirrving a nobleman. I only wish a marquis wonlil pro- 
 pose to me. {looking about her.) Holloa ! well, I'm sur'.» ! 
 Is anybody going to lead nic to supper ? (^aloiid, and luok- 
 inij siynijicantly at the Marquis.) Ahem! 
 
 Li{;ny. A thousand pardons, young lady, but if you 
 will iiccept a soldier's escort — 
 
 Mari. Oh, my lord ! {curtseying and simprriny.) 
 
 LiGNY. Enough ! Duniont. take the lady's hand nud 
 load her in. (Dumoxt. obedient to orders, seizes Mauii'i : i; 
 by the hand and deliberately v:alks out.dragyiny Mauie'i ri: 
 after him, R. H. — Marquis crushiuy the paprr in his- 
 hands.) S'death! could anything be more provoking;, more 
 unfortunate? D^ Brissac escaped ! and at the v^ry moment; 
 I was about to restore him to liberty. Where, where am 
 he be? 
 
 {the window is thrown open violently and De Buissac 
 appears.) 
 
 Bris. (r.) Where can he be ? here — here! {leaps in.) 
 And now, Marquis de Ligny, now that we are face to face, 
 I charge you with falsehood and perjury, and demand in- 
 stant satisfaction, {draws.) 
 
 Ligny. Satisfaction ! after all I have done for you. 
 
 Bris. Done for me ! Yes, you have done for me, witli 
 a vengeance ! In a word, are you Rosine's husband or are 
 you not ? 
 
 Ligny. ( quietly.) I am. 
 
 Bris. Then, as I said before, come on. {Jlourishing his 
 ttvord round his head violently.) 
 
 Ligny. My dear young friend, listen to what I have to 
 iay, and then if you arc not satisfied I'll run you through 
 the body with all the pleasure in life. 
 
 Bris. Oh, you will, will you? Then I'll listen to 
 you. {sheathing his sword.) 
 
 Ltgny^. You already know that — . . 
 
 Bris. Now, goodness gracious! don't tell me what I 
 know already. You know I want to know what I don't know. 
 
 LiONY". Patience! I repeat, that you already know that 
 I recently obtained a few days' leave of absence. 
 
 ceaa 
 
 J 
 
26 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 2; 
 
 '^h 
 
 u 
 
 I! 
 
 f I 
 
 k 
 
 II 
 
 f 
 
 Bris. Ye?, yes, yes — get on. 
 
 LiGNY. If you keep interrupting me in this sort of way, 
 I shan't be al)le to pet on at all. It was a task of con- 
 siderable difficulty and danger to escape the Spaniards, 
 but I succeeded, for I was animated by the hope of once 
 more beholding the only woman I have ever loved. 
 
 Bris. {laughing hysterically!) Ha, ha ! that's delicious 
 — the only woman you ever loved ? And here you've 
 married the only woman / ever loved. Well, of all the — 
 never mind ; get on — get on ! 
 
 LiGNY. It was night ere I arrived at the chateau — ah, 
 would that night had been my last ! 
 
 Bris. Would it had ; but get on — get on ! 
 
 LiGNY. De Brissac, I found her faithless — n more 
 favoured lover knelt at her feet, and imjjrinted burning 
 kisses on that hand that she had so often pledged to me. 
 Maddened by rage and jealousy, I drew my sword and 
 leaped into the apartment ; the light was extinguished — a 
 momentary clash of swords, and a cry as from a wounded 
 man followed — and I rushed from the house. The next 
 morning the news had spread far and wide that the Duke 
 de Chavannes — for so my rival was called — had been 
 basely, treacherously assassinated. 
 
 Bris. Assassinated ! No such thing — it was a duel. 
 
 LiGXY. A duel, De Brissac, without witnesses, and, as 
 such, by the late edict of the Cardinal de Richelieu, punish- 
 able with degradation and death. 
 
 Bris. Death! You were not suspected as the assassin — 
 I mean the murderer — I should say the — 
 
 LiGNY. Nothing can escape the cardinal's emissaries. 
 Three days ago I received this letter from his eminence. 
 {reads.) "The Duke de Chavannes died by your hand — 
 your life is forfeited and you must die ; but I will spare 
 you the infamy of a public execution. The king is not un- 
 mindful of your services, and you are therefore graciously 
 permitted to seek an honourable death. The Spaniards 
 are now beseiging Amiens ; within three days let me hear 
 that the Marquis de Ligny has preferred a soldier's death 
 on the battle field to that of a folon on the scaffold.'' 
 
 Bris. Oh, my poor friend, how very dreadful ! NeTer 
 mind — get on ! 
 
Act 2; 
 
 sort of way, 
 task of con- 
 ! iSpaniards, 
 
 lopo of once 
 
 oved. 
 
 it's delicious 
 
 here you've 
 of all the— 
 
 ihateau — ah. 
 
 88 — a more 
 ited burning 
 Isjed to rae. 
 sword and 
 nguished — a 
 1 a wounded 
 The next 
 lat the Duke 
 . — had been 
 
 as a duel. 
 ises, and, as 
 lieu, punish- 
 
 le assassin — 
 
 8 emissaries, 
 is eminence. 
 your hand — 
 [ will spare 
 ig is not un- 
 •e graciously 
 10 Spaniards 
 let me hear 
 Idier's death 
 .ffold." 
 ful ! NcTer 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 27 
 
 LioxY. la two hours the three days will have expired, 
 and I shall have ceased to live. 
 
 Bris. Don't talk in that horrible way, don't. Ah! 
 {suddenly.) I begin to have some faint glimmering of your 
 meaning ; yes, I see it all — your motive for making Rosine 
 your wife — 
 
 LiGNY. Was simply to fulfil my promise to you, that 
 you should marry her. In two short hours she will be ray 
 widow. 
 
 Bris. How delightful — I mean how dreadful ! Get on. 
 
 LiGNY. No longer Rosine, the simple mercer's daughter, 
 and, as such, scorned and rejected by your proud father, 
 but the wealthy and noble Marchioness de Ligny. Now, 
 say, De Brissac, am I the traitor — am I the false, per- 
 fidious friend ? 
 
 Bris. Don't— don't — don't! Oh, my poor, dear friend 
 — generous but imhappy being ! I'm so happy, and yet so 
 miserable. I've recovere i the woman I've just lost, and 
 I'm going to lose the friend I've just recovered, I can't 
 cry for laughing, and I can't laugh for crying — noble, self- 
 sacrificing man ! {blubbering.) It's too much ! — {suddenly.) 
 Don't die — live and be happy, and I'll try and fall in love 
 with somebody else. 
 
 Ligny. Nay, my fate is sealed — I must die. 
 
 Bris. Must you ? Forgive the apparent brutality of the 
 question, but how do you intend getting rid of yourself? 
 
 Ligny. How? Arc there not sixty thousand Spaniards 
 without the walls of Amiens. 
 
 Bris. {in an agony.) Don't. 
 
 Ligny. And after all what is death? 'Tii but a 
 journey which we all must take. 
 
 ^w/ifr DtMoxT, L. H. rfoor, 
 
 Ligny. Well, Duniont, what is it ? , 
 
 DuMONT. You're wanted 
 Ligny. Indeed! By whou? 
 
 DuMONT. A messenger dmi the Cardmai de Richelieu. 
 Ligny. {to De Burssv. To remind me, doubtless, 
 that my last hour is at ha >i 
 
 Bris. Don't, {shudden'nj ] • . 
 
 Ligny. Well, he sha'l "ir back the tidings to hif 
 
 i. 
 
28 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 '% 
 
 Ir !|: 
 
 eminence that the Marquis de Ligny has died like a 
 gentleman, and a soldier. 
 
 Bms. Don't!— 
 
 Ligny. Dumont. • - 
 
 DuMONT. Here! 
 
 Ligny. Mount your horse instantly, and ride to the 
 Spanish Camp with a flag of truce, you will there deliver 
 thi.s message. " That the Marquis de Ligny, captain of the 
 King's Musketeers, will, within this hour, capture the 
 Spanish standard, which now flaunts so proudly over the 
 tent of their general. 
 
 liuis. Well, but this is rushing to certain death. 
 
 Ligny. I know it! But the Cardinal's scaffold, De 
 Brissac, is equally certain, and thus I shall at least die 
 "with honour.. Dumont, you'll obey my orders. 
 
 Dumont. {dashing his hand across his eyes.) I will. 
 
 Ligny. Be sure you go alone, and that not a living 
 soul knows of your errand. Away ! 
 
 (Dumont hesitates for a moment^ theji suddenly grasps 
 
 Marquis's hand., wrings it fervently, atut foes out, l.) 
 
 You are now satisfied, De Brissac, that there can be no 
 
 escape for me, and consequently no impediment to your 
 
 marriage with Rosine. 
 
 Bins. Your business does appear to be settled, my poor 
 dear friend, and I shall have the melanclioly satisfaction 
 of marrying your widow — horrible happiness. 
 
 The MEssENGERyrow the Cardinal enters, door, l. h. 
 
 Messenger. Is it to the Marquis de Ligny that I have 
 the honour to address myself ? 
 
 Ligny. It is, sir. 
 
 Messenger. I come, sir, from — 
 
 Ligny. The Cardinal de Richelieu — I am aware of it, 
 sir. Hrs eminence seems to fear that I should forget the 
 conditions on which his clemency was shown to me. 
 
 Messenger. You mistake the nature of my mission. 
 Marquis. (gives letter, boivs, and exit, l. h. 
 
 Ligny. {opening letter.) " Among the papers of the 
 late Duke de Chavannes, were found indisputable proofs 
 of his being the oiiginator of a treasonable correspondence 
 with the Spanish general to deliver the town of Amiens 
 into his hands." • • 
 
Act 2. 
 
 iied like a 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 OUR WITB, 
 
 29 
 
 ride to the 
 ere deliver 
 ptain of the 
 capture the 
 y over the 
 
 }ath. 
 
 icafFold, De 
 it least die 
 
 I will. 
 
 ot a living 
 
 'enlj/ graspi 
 
 foes out, L.) 
 
 can be no 
 
 ;nt to your 
 
 cd, my poor 
 satisfaction 
 
 hor^ L. H. 
 that I have 
 
 ware of it, 
 I forget the 
 o me. 
 
 ly mission, 
 d exity L. H. 
 pers of the 
 able proofs 
 despondence 
 of Amiens 
 
 Bris. Well, well— - - - 
 
 LiGNY. {reads.) "As your good sword, my Lord 
 Marquis, took this vile traitor's life the king grants you 
 a full pardon." {takes stage ^ l. h.) 
 
 Bbis. a pardon ! Oh, my dear friend ! {shaking his 
 hand.) I'm so happy — I'm so delighted — Tol de rol. 
 (dancing — then suddenly stops.) Holloa! Stop a bit. I 
 say my dear friend — T 
 
 LiGNY. Well. M V . . . 
 
 Bris. This won't do at all ! You've married my wife, 
 on the express condition of getting yourself killed witliia 
 an hour — 
 
 LiGNY. Very true, my dear friend, but in the mcaa 
 time, I unexpectedly receive my pardon. I can't help 
 the Cardinal taking a merciful view of my case, can I r 
 
 Bris. Pooh, pooh ! Nonsense ! You became Rosine's 
 husband in order that she might be my wife, consequently 
 I consider her to be my wife. 
 
 Ltqny. Hush I she comes ! Leave us. 
 
 Bris. Leave you! Ha, ha! Leave you alone with my 
 wife — I mean your wife — I should say, our wife ! No, no ! 
 Here I am and here I'll stop. 
 
 LiGNY. But see, her father, Monsieur Pomaret, is with 
 her; recollect, he has forbidden you the house. 
 
 Bris. Eh ? that's true ! I have it, yes — I'll step out 
 on that balcony, in order that I may hear what you say 
 to my wife, sir. .. , ., 
 
 LiGNY. 3/ywife! sir! / . •'•i. 
 
 Bris. Our wife, sir. ' ' 
 
 LiGNT. A capital idea ! Go — make haste, (pushing 
 him toivards window. J Make haste, I say. (Brissac goes 
 to window, and steps out on balcony.) * . , 
 
 Bris. But remember, sir. {solemnly.) 
 
 LiGNY. Yes, exactly ! {slams windoiv in his face.) 
 
 Bris. {re-opening windotv.) I repeat, reracmi)pr, sir. 
 
 {the Marquis closes the window in his face again. 
 
 Enter Rosine, Mariette, and Pomaret, b. 
 
 Pom. (as he enters. J But, Rosine, consider, I repeat, 
 consider — 
 
 RoaiKB. Nay, father — I must and will speak. 
 
 (I 
 
 nl 
 
 'i< 
 
!l 
 
 ZO 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 i 
 
 f-M\i 
 
 I I 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 Mari. {aside to her.) That's right! Do, and don't 
 spare him. 
 
 RosiNE. {to Marquis.) This business must be most 
 important, indeed! my lord marquis, that you cannot 
 devote even a few moments to the society of your guests 
 — and your bride. 
 
 Mari. {aside to her.) That was severe, {to Pom a ret.) 
 Why don't you say something ? 
 
 LiGNY. ^to RosiNE.) I assure you that I really— 
 {aside.) What the deuce shall I say ? f aloud.) A thou- 
 sand pardons — let us rejoin our guests. 
 
 RosiNE. Indeed ! And so escape the scolding I have in 
 store for you, sir ! No, no ! We will follow you imme- 
 diately, my dear father. 
 
 Pom. {to Marquis.) When she says " scolding," she 
 •nly means a little — ^gentle — or rather — mild, indeed, I 
 might say — 
 
 Mari. Uncle, you're getting tv-* of your depth. 
 
 {thunder. 
 
 Pom. I am. Hey day ! thunder, I declare. I'll close 
 the shutters. 
 
 LiGNY. Yes, yes ! a very good idea, close the shutters 
 by all means. (Pomaret closes the shutters.) 
 
 Pom. Come, Mariette ! we're going to have a storm. 
 
 Exeunt, with Mariette, door r. h. 
 
 LiGNY. {asidej and looking totoards window.) I think it 
 very likely ! — I can't conceive a much more awkward 
 situation ! Rosine evidently resolved on an explanation, 
 and that confounded De Brissac on the balcony. This 
 will be a lesson to me, never to marry a woman on another 
 man's account again. I really don't know that I ever 
 saw a prettier, or more interesting creature than my 
 — I mean our wife. 
 
 Rosine. I think you said something ? 
 
 LiONY. Ahem! I merely was about to observe 
 {thunder.) that it seems — rather — a rather rough sort of 
 night 
 
 Rosine. Very, Marquis ! {aside.) Just as if I cared about 
 the weather. {sudden and violent wind and rain heard.) 
 
 LiGNY. {aside.) Pleasant for my friend on the balcony I 
 I sliould say a drowned rat would be a joke to hint. 
 He'll be knocking to come in, presently, {aloud.) But 
 
Act 2. 
 
 and don't 
 
 t be most 
 ^ou cannot 
 our guesta 
 
 !*OMARET.) 
 
 really — 
 ) A thou- 
 
 I have in 
 j^ou imme- 
 
 ding," she 
 indeed, I 
 
 depth. 
 {thunder. 
 I'll close 
 
 le shutters 
 
 a storm. 
 , door R. H. 
 ) I think it 
 s awkward 
 xplanation, 
 ny. This 
 on another 
 aat I ever 
 than my 
 
 observe 
 jh sort of 
 
 ared about 
 tin heard.) 
 e balcony ! 
 e to hiitt. 
 ^oud.) But 
 
 Act?. 
 
 OtlR WIFE. 
 
 31 
 
 really we mustn't forget our excellent friends are awaiting 
 us — will you allow me? {offers his hand.) 
 
 RosiNE, {very drily.) One moment, my lord! Some 
 little explanation is necessary. 
 
 LiQNY. {aside.) Now for it ! I knew it was coming. 
 
 RosiNE. In a word then (a loud knocking at the 
 window.) What's that? 
 
 LiGNY. No — thing ! only the wind, {aside.) The 
 shutters are fastened, so he can't get in, that's one comfort. 
 {to RosiNB.) You were about to observe ? — 
 
 RosiNE. This, Marquis, that your neglect of the 
 woman, who, however inferior to yourself in position, is 
 now your wife, is so obvious, so palpable, so marked — 
 
 {endeavouring to restrain her tears^ and at length over- 
 come hy her emotion^ bursts into tears.) 
 
 LiGNY. Rosine ! Rosine ! {snatches her hand — the knock- 
 ing and shaking at the window is resumed with redoubted 
 force — rain — he hastily lets go her hand. ) 
 
 Rosine. {alarmed.) That noise again ! What — what — 
 is it? 
 
 LiGNY. No— thing ! it's only the rain, {aside.) Con- 
 found the fellow. 
 
 Rosine. Oh, sir, be sincere, be honest with me, tell 
 but how I may gain my husband's esteem, his confidence, 
 his affection, and believe me I will earnestly, eagerly, try 
 to deserve it. 
 
 LiGNY. {aside.) She's an angel ! I repeat our wife is an 
 angel, {aloud.) Rosine ! dear, dear Rosine ! 
 
 {taking her hand again^ the knocking and shaking of the 
 window resumed more violently than ever; rain and 
 thunder. — the Mabquis again lets go her hand. 
 
 Rosine. Again ! I really feel quite alarmed, {trembling 
 and approaching the Marquis, who retreats.) 
 
 LiGNY. There's nothing to fear ! It's only the thunder. 
 
 {here a violent clap of thunder takes place^ the window 
 is again violently shaken.) ^ 
 
 Rosine. Ah ! {screaming.) Save me ! 
 
 {throws herself into his arms. At this moment the 
 window is burst open with a violent crash and De 
 Brissac, soaked with wet leaps into the apartment. 
 The sudden opening of the window extinguishes the 
 eandelahras hung on the flats. The stage is quite 
 
 ' *>p.. 
 
 \r- 
 
 
32 
 
 OUR WIJTB. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 a dark. At the sound of the broken window^ Rosikb 
 again screams^ and hides her /ace in her handt. 
 
 Bris. I haven't a dry thread on me. But where are 
 they ? I (lout hear them — and yet they must be here. 
 
 [yropiny his way about towards the front. 
 
 RosiNE. {suddenly looking up.) Oh, surely you do not 
 mean to leave me here alone. j.ui? > y.' i r- t 
 
 liiGNY. {stopping.) No! / 
 
 Bris. No! 
 
 IlosiNE. Why, I do declare there's an echo in the room. 
 {the Marquis and De Brissac approach R.osine, care- 
 fully feeli7i(f Iheir way ; at last each takes hold of "RoHiYiii^s 
 hands, upon which they each deposit a loud-sounding kiss — 
 the Maequis firsthand then Brissac.) Mercy on me! 
 there's another ech > ! {then., conscious that she is in the 
 hands of two men.) Ah, help — help ! {struggling to free 
 herself.) u , u^ 
 
 Pomaret, Mariette, and Guests enter hastily^ ». Stage 
 light. — Rosin e, seeing her position^ frees herself . The 
 Guests all speak to each other ^ and express their astonish' 
 ment\ they speak in whispers^ shrugging their shoulders, Sfc. 
 
 Pom. {seeing De Brissac.) What do I see ? the count 
 here — and kissing the hand of my daughter, the mar- 
 chioness ! What business have you here, sir ? You hear, 
 ■ir ? — here, sir ? 
 
 RosiNE. Nay, father, it is to me that an explanation is 
 due. {crosses to r. c.) 
 
 Pom. {excited.) If somebody doesn't hold me tight I 
 shall do something desperate. 
 
 RosiNE. {quietly to Marquis.) I will return soon, my 
 lord, in the certain assurance that the explanation I shall 
 receive from my husband's lips will leave me no ground to 
 blush that I bear his name, {curtseys low to Marquis.) 
 Friends, follow me. Exit^ r. h. 
 
 Pom. You hear, sir ! {not aware that Rosine and 
 Mariette have gone out.) 
 
 LiQNY. {impatiently.) Pshaw ! * 
 
 Pom. What's that, sir ? 
 
 LiGNY. {turning sharply round to Pomaret, toho re- 
 treats.) Hark'ye, Monsieur Pomaret — I should exceedingly 
 T^ret that the first act of my married life should be to 
 run my father-in-law through the body; but — 
 
Act 2. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 33 
 
 Pojf. That's enough, sir — I accept your apology, and 
 wish you a very good evening I 
 Exit, R. — the Guests retire with him — the Marquis and 
 
 De Brissac tttrn and look at each other face to face. 
 
 LiGNY. WeU? 
 
 Buis. Well? 
 
 LiGNY A pretty scene of mischief and scandal you 
 have occasioned. We shall be the whole talk of the 
 town. Rosine will believe that your presence here was \ 
 sanctioned by me, and that I was a consenting party to \ 
 an insult offered to my wife. 
 
 Bris. My wife, if you please ! Yes ; you promised 
 that I should marry her, and that promise you must 
 fulfil. 
 
 LiGNY. But how — ^how? 
 
 Bris. Get a divorce, and then you won't be condemned 
 to pass the remainder of your existence with a woman you 
 don't care about ; for you don't care about her, do you? 
 
 LiGNY. Ah, De Brissac, if you fell a victim to her 
 charms, how should I hope to escape ? I confess her 
 beauty has captivated, fascinated me. 
 
 Bris Gracious goodness, you don't mean to say you 
 love my wife ? 
 
 LiGNY. Be calm ! 
 
 Bris. Calm ! ha, ha ! He's got my wife in his pocket 
 — I mean in his power ; he's married Rosine — he says he 
 loves her — and he tells me to be calm, {crosses a. h.) 
 
 Enter Dumont, l. h. 
 
 LiGNY. (c.) Who is there? 
 
 Dumont. (l.) I, captain ! 
 
 LiGNY. Dumont ! {as if suddenly struck by a painful 
 recollection — aside.) I had forgotten, {aloud.) You have 
 carried my defiance to the Spanish camp ? 
 
 Dumont. Yes, and delivered it to the general himself. 
 
 LiQNY. {aside.) It was the desperate resolve of a man 
 who believed himself inevitably doomed to an ignominious 
 death — my pardon has arrived too late, {aloud.) Enough. 
 
 Dumont. No, there is something more, captain, that 
 must be told. " Inform the Marquis de Ligny," said the 
 Spanish genera)> '*thatl have received his message, which 
 V he fails to execute within the hour " — and it's almost 
 
 If 
 
 I i? 
 
Illii 
 
 I - 
 
 ).<£ 
 
 34 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 gone, captain — *' I shall not consider it the chivalrous 
 challenge of a gallant soldier, but the insolent bravado of 
 a coward !" 
 
 LiGNY. A coward ! Dumont, within five minutos, let 
 me find my horse ready — my favourite charger, Dumont, 
 and sec that the noble animal is proudly caparison I. lor 
 he bears his master to a glorious death. 
 
 Bris. (e. h. — pathetically.) I wish you wouldn't ' 
 -f Dumont. What arms, captain ? 
 
 LiGNY. My good sword here, {touching thr scahlxird.) 
 Now, Dumont, away ! Exit Dumont, dour \.. u. 
 
 De Brissac, {holding out his hand — De Brissac grasps it.) 
 you'll not deny a dying man one favour ^ 
 
 Bris. But you're not a dying man. You've reroived 
 your pardon. Send word to the whole Spanish camp you 
 can't come — 1 should. 
 
 LiGNY. And be branded as a braggart and a coward? 
 No, Do Brissac; I dread dishonour more than death. 
 And, now, farewell, my friend — my last requjpst is liiat 
 you will justify me with Rosine. 
 
 Bris. I will. I'll tell her you only married her in o. der 
 that she might marry me ; she won't perhaps exactly 
 understand it ; but never mind that. 
 
 LiGNY. {sitting at table, R. h.) Stay! I will write a 
 few words to her. ' i 
 
 Bris, I shall always be seeing him in my dreams, in 
 mortal conflict with the entire Spanish army, {a-osses, i,. ii.) 
 Oh, live, my dear friend — live, and I'll try and fall in love 
 with some other woman. 
 
 LiGNY. {rising and giving paper to D^Bm8SA.c.) There! 
 give it her when I'm dead. - . : • 
 
 Bris. Don't! {goup,ij.n) ' 
 
 : Enter Rosine, s. . • - 
 
 Rosine. {aside.) Still together ! •' . •• .'! 
 
 . LioNY. Rosine ! 
 
 Rosine. {with cold reserve.) My lord marquis I seek 
 that explanation which you must feel is due to me. 
 
 LiGNY. Rosine! 
 
 Rosine. I require no idle protestations — I ask but a 
 
 few moments of your leisure. 4 
 
 »■ Liqnt. I am at your orders, madame ! ii 
 
Act 2. 
 
 OUR WIFE. 
 
 35 
 
 Bins. (b. h.) Speak, dear Rosino ! [very tenderly .) 
 
 UosiNE. Sir ! {drawiug herself up.) The words I have to 
 Bay must be spoken to my husband alone, {yoes tip.) 
 
 Huis. Oh! {aside.) That's a sufficiently intelligible hint 
 for me — {pointiny to door.) 
 
 LiosT. Leave us ! -^xiV I)e Brissac, r. 
 
 UosiNE. (l. h.) My lord, I shall not long tax your 
 patience — I do not come to remind you of the vows you 
 80 lately uttered at the altar, neither do I como to dnnand 
 reparation for the insult offered to your wife by the Count 
 de lirissac, for I am well aware that his presence here was 
 not the result of accident ; no, ray lord, it was sanctioned 
 by you— yes, by you, my lord marquis; who were a 
 participator in that shameful outrage from which it was 
 your duty to protect me. 
 
 LiuNY. I? Nay, Rosine, I swear — 
 
 llosiNE. Do not, by the denial of this fact, sully the 
 honour of a name already sufficiently humbled by your 
 union with the poor mercer's daughter. 
 
 LiGNY. Hear me! 
 
 llosiNE. Hear me, my lord ! My father is now with the 
 Cardinal de Richelieu, and in compliance with my earnest 
 wishes, is soliciting his eminence to annul our unhap2)y 
 union. 
 
 LiGNY. Indeed ? madamc ! you might have spared your- 
 self the humiliation of such asteji — for you will soon be 
 free — ay, madame, free to wed the only man you ever truly 
 loved. 
 
 Rosine. So you believed I loved the Count de Brissac, 
 but that, dazzled by your superior rank wealth, I married 
 you. Oh, sir ! I did not, could not believe you thought 
 80 meanly of me. 
 
 LiGNT. Can I be mistaken? Rosine ! dear Rosine ! has 
 De Brissac, then, deceived himself and me? have you 
 never loved him ? 
 
 Rosine. Never ! I gave my heart where I gave my hand. 
 
 LiGNY. {seizing her hand and kissing it passionately.) 
 You love me ! Oh, speak, Rosine, do not crush the hope 
 that you have raised, for I love you, Rosine, dearly, 
 devotedly love you. 
 
 Rosine. Ah ! {throwing herself into his arms.) Enter 
 DuMONT, door^ L. H. LiGNY, secinq Dumont, starts — di*' 
 
^0 
 
 OUU WIFE. 
 
 Act 2 
 
 
 i*! 
 
 u 
 
 tntjages himself from Rosin e's arms and puts her across 
 
 to K. II. 
 
 DuMONT. All is ready, captain, 
 
 Ltony. {with intoition.) V or tha inspeciion f 
 
 DuMoNT. No — yes — of course — for the inspection. 
 
 RosiNi:. Must you leave me aj^ain ? 
 
 LiGNY. {smiliny hitlcrhj^ and controlling his emotion.') 
 Yes, llubine, tut believe me I leave you now for the last 
 time. 
 
 llosiNE. {playfully-) You're sure of that ? 
 
 LioxY. (iuite, quite sure. Farewell. 
 
 [assuming a forced cheerfulness^ and kissing her hand ; 
 gocif up stage^ stops, returns, clasps her in his anns, 
 and hurries out, followed by Dumont, door h. H.) 
 
 RosiNE. lie loves me! Happy, happy Kosine ! [runs 
 to balcony and looks out.) IIow he hurried away. Well, I 
 think he might have looked up at the balcony for the 
 chance of seeing me. How he docs gallop to be sure ! 
 
 Enter Mariette, hurriedly ^ door r. h. 
 
 Mari. Rosine — Roeine ! 
 
 RosiNE. {coming forward.) Well, what's the matter? 
 
 Mari. I don't know, but there's something extra- 
 ordinary going on. Where's the marquis ? 
 
 Rosin E. He's just left me. 
 
 Mari. Gone again ! The man doesn't seem able to stop 
 in the same place five minutes together; then there's Mon- 
 sieur de Brissac — what's the matter with him ? There he 
 is rushing about the corridors, tearing his hair — banking 
 liis head with both his hands, and raving about killing 
 •ixty thousand Spaniai-ds and marrying their widows. 
 
 Rosine. Poor young man! I'm afraid his love forme 
 lias turned his brain. 
 
 Mari. Not a bit of it ; for just now he flopj>ed 
 both his knees to tne, and asked me to m'^' v ' ' 
 mine," said he; " say yes," said he, " an( ,4 U ^ 
 the marquis — you'll preserve the whole fc^ .nish 
 But here he comes. 
 
 lit. 
 rve 
 
 uiy." 
 
 Enter De Brissac, hurriedly, pale and agitated, r. h. 
 
 Bris. {crosses l. h.) Not here ! Wher« is he — the 
 siarquis — my friend, my wretch*»d. unhappv friend ? 
 
Act 2 
 
 her acrott 
 
 otion. 
 
 "• the last 
 
 hrr hand ; 
 1- I£.) 
 
 »t>! runt 
 
 »y for the 
 sure ! 
 
 natter ? 
 »g extra- 
 
 'le to stop 
 
 ti's Mon- 
 
 i'hcro he 
 
 -hanging 
 
 it killiiijr 
 o 
 
 nvs. 
 
 ibr me 
 
 Acts. 
 
 OUR WIFK. 
 
 37 
 
 lit 
 ji rve 
 
 my, 
 
 aii<»" " 
 
 R. H. 
 
 UosiNK. (r. Ti.) Not 80 very wretched or unhappy, 
 tithor, I flatter invRrlf. 
 
 llitis. WluTO, where is lie? 
 
 KosiNE. He has just h'ft inc. 
 
 IJiiis Gone ! {iinks on sofa^ L. ii.) 
 
 KoHiNE. Yo8, on some trillmj; military duty. 
 
 Bms. Trifling! (asidr.) Fii;;!iting the entire Spanish 
 crmy ! 
 
 llosiNK. But he promised me he would Hoon rettirn. 
 
 Buis. Did he? ha, ha, ha? {luiu/Ziinf/ /it/.sicricallt/.) 
 
 RosiNE, But you are pale — agitated? 
 
 Buis. Ami? ha, ha I {slartiny up and ijrmtpiwj her 
 hand.) Hosine, how are your nerves r is your system in a 
 condition to hear a terrific shock? 
 
 IlosiNE. What do you mean ? 
 
 Bris. Mean? why this — that the miserahle marquis it 
 at this very moment engaged in deadly conflict. 
 
 liosiXE. Ah! and who is his antagonist? Speak — 
 fpcak slwho is he ? 
 
 liiiis. Who is he? Sixty thousand of them — the eiitiru 
 Spanish Army ; but read this, (gives note. J It must he all 
 m'cr with him by this time. 
 
 UosiNE. {glancinj over note.) Ah, no, no — it cannot bo 
 — {reading again.) Dead! {sinks into chair, u. h.) 
 
 M.vRi. Dead! {screams and/alls on so/a, j.. ir.) 
 
 linis. {running from one to the other.) Ko.sine, (l'>nr 
 Kosine! don't take on so! Mariette! don't be abs\ird! 
 {taking her hand, and slapping it riohntly — then rnniiing 
 •gain ^o Hosine.) It's very dreadful; but, after all, you 
 can't car3 so very much about him. 
 
 Kosine. {passicnately .) I loved him ! 
 
 Bris. You loved him — ha, ha ! {sinks on so/a, emhracing 
 mnd hugging Marikttk tvildlg.) 
 
 llosiNE. I loved him — bow dearly, how devotedly, ho 
 will never — never know. {Drums, trumpets, and shouts, L. 
 
 Enter De IjIQUY J door n. n. - . 
 
 LiGNY. Rosine I 
 
 (IlosiNE screams and rushes into his arms. 
 
 Bris. {jumping off sofa.) He's killed the whole sixty 
 diousand ! I thought he would. 
 
 LioNY. My dear friend, believe me I did all 1 coiiid to 
 (gii raj self kilIod> 
 
1 ^K 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 OUE WIFE. 
 
 Act 2. 
 
 Bris. But you didn't succeed ? Just my luck. 
 
 LiONY, Nay, you love your friend too well not to re- 
 joice to see him alive aj^ain. 
 
 Bris. You're right ; but the entire Spanish army 
 must have been a sad sot of bunglers for aU that. 
 
 LiGNY. Nay, for when I had arrived within a few 
 paces of their camp, I discovered that my brave com- 
 panions had followed me — Duiuont had turned traitor, and 
 revealed to them the nature of my desperate errand. 
 
 PoMABET. {without (loor, R. H.) Where is Rosine — 
 where is she ? {Enters ^ followed hg Guests.) Long live 
 the cardinal ! his eminence for ever I It's all right, llosiue ! 
 In a word, your marriage with the Marquis de Ligny ii 
 dissolved. 
 
 All. Dissolved! 
 
 Bris. {stiatching paper from Pomaret ar^d reading.) 
 Dissolved ! Yes, " provided parties are mutually agreed 
 to separate." {tears paper.) 
 
 Pom. Holloa ! halloa ! why have you destroyed that 
 paper ? 
 
 Bris. Because both parties are mutually agreed to live 
 together, ^pointing to Di: Ligny and Kosine.) 
 
 Pom. Then I may still call myself father-in-law to a 
 marquis ? 
 
 Bris. Yes, and if Mariette has no objection, uncle-in- 
 law to a count, [offering his hand to Mariette.) 
 
 Maui, (l.) A countt"<s I Oh, llosiue, think of that ! 
 
 Kosine. (r.) A marchioness ! Oh, Mariette, think of 
 that ! 
 
 Buis. Bosine, I give you joy ; and, marquis, I'll never 
 forgive yoii if you dont nuikc our wife — I mean my wife— 
 psliaw ! your wife — the happiest woman in the world. 
 
 Pom. Very well Then, fi)r the future, let there be an 
 end of Our Wife. 
 
 llosiNE. {crosses to Pomaret.) Nay, father, I hope 
 not. (^0 Audience.) 
 
 This " house " alone the weighty question can decide. 
 
 Whether the title to our bill be laid aside. 
 
 Oh, let me rather move — tue term, I think, is right- 
 That it be read again another night. 
 
 B. Marquis. Rosins. Pomaret. Brissac. Mabibttb. %, 
 
SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 a (tamit IStnmn, 
 
 IN THREE ACXa 
 
 J. PALGEAVE SIMPSON, Esq., 
 
 {Member of the Dramatic Jut'.ora' Society), 
 Aunion OP 
 
 ' Poor Cotiiin Walter," " The World and the Stasrc," " Serond I/)To," " Vrrj 
 
 Bujplcious," "ApiwaranccB," " That Odious Captain Ciitter," " Dreams of 
 
 Delusion." " Family Pride," '• Prison and Palaee," •' A S#hool for 
 
 Cofjurttrs," " Marco Spada," •• Banela^h," •• Only ^ Ch.il," 
 
 •• Matrimonial Prospeettises," •• Heads or Tails 1" " Without 
 
 Incumbrances," " Deadly Reiwrts," " Daddy llanSacre," 
 
 •• A Smack for a SmacK," " Vi'st Affections." &c.&e.i 
 
 •nd " Bianca, tlie Bravo's Bride," " Romance,** 
 
 " Caught aud Caged," ftc. &c. (0/rr<w> 
 
 London : 
 lAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 PUBU8U£B, 
 
 S9, STRAND. 
 
 K«w YoHK : 
 SAMUEL FR'ENCH k CON 
 
 PCBLISILERH. 
 
 122, Nassau; ttTREKx. 
 
fiCKAP OF PAPER. 
 
 i 
 
 tHrst performed at the St. Jann's's Theatre^ (under tht 
 
 Management of Mr. Alfred \\'i</an), on Monda^^ 
 
 22nd Avrily 1801. 
 
 Cijaractcrs. 
 
 PROSPER COURAMONT Mr. A. Wkian. 
 
 BAUON I)E LA (fLACIKWl-: Mr. Kmichv. 
 
 BRISEMOrciIK {Landed Proprietor ami 
 
 Natiirnli.st) Mi.fi. I'i.i.M'ihf, 
 
 ANATOLE {his Ward) Mr. Asui.i.y. 
 
 BAPTISTE i^^icrvaut) Mr Tkhky. 
 
 FRAN'VOIb {iServant of Prosper) Mr. Lkvkk. 
 
 LOUISE I)E LA OLACIKKE Mi.ss Hkuiucut 
 
 MADLLE. SUZANNE 1)E KUSEMLLE {far 
 
 Cousin) Mrs. A. Widax 
 
 MATHILDE {.Sister to Louise) Miss N. Muohk. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE ZENOIUE (6V*7fr t) 
 
 Briscmouche) Mi.^.'< Kainkoutu 
 
 MADAME DUPONT (lloasclcepcr) Mrs. Ma.ndkks. 
 
 PAULINE {Maid) Mi.ss Ocsien. 
 
 Time of Rei'uesextatiox — Two JJoun. 
 
 i 
 
 (Eostomrs. 
 
 ' Prosper ConnAMONT. — First Dress: wliite summer suft, wLiio 
 trou.sors. fiec.ynd I>rcss: n iihmUmm pontlcinan's suit. 
 
 Bauom 1)E I, a fii.AciKUE — First J>rr-^s: a I'rtiuli enp, kniok< r- 
 bockcr brcechoR, gaiters, and a shooting coat. iSerond Dress: an 
 cvonhig dinner dress. 
 I Anatoi.e. — Straw hat, light trousers, and a velvet c<»at. 
 
 lUrTiHTE. — French servant's livery. 
 
 Fi!AN«,'oiH. — (Srooin's livery ri):it. white hreeelu-s. and t<>p li"iit>. 
 
 LniTiSE i)E i.A Gi.A( iKiiE. — First Press: an elegant niuriiing dn.s 
 Second Dress: an evening dress. 
 
 Madlle. Suzanne i>k Ki <i.vii.i.k. — First I)rt>s: s-ilk ninrniiMt 
 drchS, scarf, and bonnet, t^ttuml Dress: Iiandsunie evining die.--. 
 
 Matiiii.de. — First Dress: riding habit. Seeond Drees: white 
 inuKlin evening dress. 
 
 Mai'KMoiski.lk Zknoiiie. — First J>ress: md.lcri! Sjiani>Ii Ji.it and 
 feaiiier, dress loo|H'tl up over petticoat, and balm >rai boots. JSecoiid 
 J!?ress white muMliu, and a mauve sa.'^h. 
 
 Madame Duioxt. — French cap, Fiei4:h couutry costume. 
 
 pAUi ^E.-^bvrvant's drcM. 
 
h 
 
 {nndcr the 
 
 A. Wrn.vN-. 
 
 A-lll,i;v, 
 
 I'kki.v. 
 . \. ^VIfiA^• 
 
 S IvAIM-oiiXU 
 
 'M.\xi>i;ks. 
 
 f ' » 
 - ■• « 
 
 ' suft, wliiio 
 
 ip, kiiii'ki r- 
 l^rcifs: a a 
 
 •at. 
 
 t"P I)l)o(>. 
 
 ii'ing(lrc.-.fi 
 k iiiiiriiiHir 
 
 >li Ji;it arid 
 nie. 
 
 A SCRAP v)f PAPER. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCFVK — Droin'ii^ Uonm in n Frrnch CoiDih')/ Tlomf. •• windowi 
 ti) the (j)'(jui(l, in h ic!.-, Luhlitg mit on (jiirdenH itml Purk — he- 
 ti'i'cii the viiihucs (I jire-j>liiO' siiriiumiitvd hij d /u()Liiit/-;/'titin — 
 on (ilher sUii of the. ijldna n briiCi\cf, irithiii retch of (he hand, 
 I'd' one 1!., sitj)^.ortiiif/ it slalnetta of '• Floni," du- other L., 
 f;///>/// — diH)r K. 2 K., door ].. 2 K. — old fu-shi mctl furniture, 
 r.rh, hilt ii little wuru — sofn on either side —in centre, a round 
 table, ivith a lit nip, an cinbr.n'deri/ frame, a hook, and uUier 
 ohjtetn, seatteird upon it in disorder — chairs — the irindoin, K., 
 i.v i>)>i n itjioii the (jiirden ; the icinduic, I- , is at jirst closed in 
 with barred Venetian shuttert*. 
 
 BaI'TISTI: is dustini/ the cushhms of the sofa, L. — PaL'LINK, R., 
 IS rubbinf/ the le(js of an old arm chair, 
 
 Paul, (turning nmnd the chair nith disdain) Oiil^' just look 
 at it ! Did y<>ii ever see sueli old fashioned rubbish? IJut, 
 what can you expect in the c(»uutiy':' 
 
 I'M'. A jiretty idea, indeed, of master to come down for his 
 hijootinj; to this out-of-the-way old house, when I had made 
 uji niy mind to take him to IJaden-liaden for my hunbago, {opens 
 viiidow shutter) 
 
 Pall, (j/iriin/ up work) Pve enou<^h of it for one — here we 
 have been at it, in this dust, ever since five in the morniu!?. 
 
 l>Ar. {reelininfj) Yes: and after a whole day's railway shak- 
 iiit,'. (seated) 
 
 I'aii,. {throwing herself into an arm chair) Second class, tool 
 that's how poor servants are treated 1 
 
 Enter Madamk I)i I'ont, l. d. 
 
 Mad. U. Well, Pm sure! h that the way you dust the 
 n-niture? j 
 
 Pai'. No, old lady, thi.s is tln> way we rest ourselves. 
 
 i'Ali,. 'I'o whom hav*' 1 the honuur of speaking? 
 
 Mad. I). You have the honour of (crosses to c.) addren-sing 
 yourself, young woman, to Madame iJupont, housekeeper of 
 tht< chateau. 
 
 llAi'. (L.) Then I can't compliment you on yuur housekecp- 
 
 fi 
 
 |!' 
 
 ',' ! 
 
 ■ 
 
 [1. 
 
 Ig 
 
 t.. .! 
 
 rfgl ■ 1: 
 
 i'^> 
 
 ii: 
 
SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [acti. 
 
 1 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 L 
 
 ing, old lady. I should s«y tins room has never seen besom or 
 broom on it for the laat two years. 
 
 Mad. I). You are out there, my master — for it's three ! 
 
 Paul [■ ('««^^'""^) Three years ? 
 
 Mad. 1). (c.) Yes, tliroc years ! The room has never heen 
 opened since my poor old mistress, Madame de Mcrival, left for 
 Paris, to take her dau«^hter, my present mistress to be married to 
 the Baron de la (ilaciere. She gave orders that tliis room was 
 to be shut up until she came hack. She never did come hack, 
 poor soul ! for she died shortly after ma'amselle's marriage- 
 three years ago. However, I always obey orders ; and not a 
 thing was touched till my lady's sudden arrival last night, 
 when she ordered all the house to be ready to receive com- 
 pany to-day — and now to work. 
 
 Paul. We'll soon finish it off. {she begins to dust the stutueilt 
 Flora) 
 
 Mad. D. What are you about? you mustn't touch that image. 
 
 Paul. But the creature's so covered with dust that she's 
 positively not decent. 
 
 Mad. D. No matter ; nobody's allowed to touch Flora, 
 eince the dreadful misfortune that happened to Zephyr, her 
 •weetheart, who stood opposite {points to the other bracket) He 
 •was smnslied to bits, poor little innocent. And, after that, 
 nobody but Mademoiselle Louise was ever allowed, in my old 
 lady's time, to dust the Flora. 
 
 Paul. Very well, then, the 
 ehall go and have my cup of chocolate 
 
 Bap. And {crosses to R.) I to see after my medicated bath. 
 
 Paul. And I, to my Parisian correspondence, {with irony, 
 ond a mock curtsey) my humble respects, Madame Dupont. 
 
 Bap. {likewise) Housekeeper of the chateau. 
 
 Exeunt Skkvants, K, D., l^iughing. 
 
 Mad. D. {dusting and arranging) Ugh ! what a set ! " My 
 chocolate :" " my medicated bath :" " my Pari.siiin correspond- 
 ence." A pretty pass servants are come to ! 
 
 Anatole has entered stealthilg, by window, during this, R. C, 
 
 Anat. (r., mysteriously) Madame Dunont ! • 
 
 Mad. D. (l.) Bless me, if it isn't Alaster Anatole ! and 
 here at the chateau. 
 
 Anat. {as before) Has she come dowa yet? 
 
 Mad. D. What, my Lady ? 
 
 Anat. Oh, no ! Mademoiselle Mathilda. 
 
 Mad. D. And pray where did you make acquaintance with 
 Mademoiselle Mathilde? She has never been at th9 chateau 
 ^jnce she wi^s a little girl— so hjgh, 
 
 here's nothing more to do here. 
 
 I 
 
ACT t.] fiCRA? OP PAPER. § 
 
 AN/^t. Oh, at Paris— where I went mth my guardian, Mon- 
 sieur Brisemouche— you know. 
 
 Mad. D. Yes — our neighbour, who lives in the villa at the 
 end of the Avenue. Why, here .she is— just coming in from 
 lier ride I 
 
 Knter Matiiilde, r. C, in a riding habit, by window. 
 
 Math. (U., sahdimj) Health and greeting to Monsieur 
 Anatulc 1 
 
 Anat. ((>'., turning, startled) Oh, Mademoiselle Mathildel 
 You are up, then ? 
 
 Math, lip, yes — up in my saddle, two hours ago. (gii'et 
 Madame D. her hat and ichip) 
 
 Exit Madame D., r. 
 
 Anat. (eafjerli/) Oh, Mademoiselle ! 
 
 Math, {niimicklng) Oh, Monsieur Anatole ! 
 
 Anat. 1 — I — {breaking down) I hope you have been quite 
 well since last I had the pleasure of seeing you. 
 
 Math, (as before) I — 1 — have been pretty well, I thank yoii. 
 
 Anat. There — you are making fun of me again, as you used 
 to do at Paris. 
 
 Math. Utterly incapable of it, I assure you. Well — what 
 have you been doing these last two njonths ? 
 
 Anat. Doing? Oh — nothing. 
 
 Math. That's not much. 
 
 Anat. Only scribbling a few poetical effusions. 
 
 Math. Oh, show them to me I 
 
 Anat. I dare not. * 
 
 Math. Dare not ? 
 
 Anat. No : they contain things I don't wish to tell yoa. ^* 
 
 Math. You shan't tell them me— Pll read them. 
 
 Anat. Oh, no : you might be angry, and 1 couldn't bear 
 that ; and so Pd better — {takes up his hat) that is to say— oh 
 — nothing I 
 
 Math. Well, if you've nothing to say, Pd better go. . 
 
 Anat. But I have a thousand things to say. .,, 
 
 Math. A thousand ! that's nine hundred and ninety-nmft 
 too many. Don't you think you had better take a turn in the 
 park, just to pick and choose : and then, when you con;e back, 
 you can say something like this : " Madmeoiselle Mathilde — 
 1 am very silly " 
 
 Anat. Oh, yes — I know that. 
 
 Math. •* Pve been expecting the arrival of a young friend — 
 with a certain degree of impatience perhaps " 
 
 Anat. Yes — reckoning every minute. 
 
 Math. Very well — '* rcckonmg every mimite : and now she 
 ii come, I don't dare to eay wbat Pvo got on ay mind; 
 
Ml 
 
 8CRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 {ACf 
 
 I 
 
 I : 
 
 I 
 
 although there is nothing in it but what is perfectly proper and 
 correct." 
 
 AlYAT. Nothing, I swear I 
 
 Math. Now, that's what you had better go and repeat to 
 
 jourself in tlie park ; and when you have pot it by heart, Vdii 
 
 shall come back and say it to me ; and we'll sec tlien whet In r 
 
 I shall be affronted or not. Good morning, Monsieur Anatolp. 
 
 5^ A'.'vV, |{. (duT. 
 
 Anat. Oh — Mademoiselle M«ihilde ! She won't stop. It's 
 all over now. I've said it at last — that is to say, ^r said it - 
 but it's all one, 1 never thought 1 shouiil have got throuuh 
 my declaration so cleverly. Come, there's nothin;^ like pluck, 
 after all! (MADiCMoitfiii.i/F. Zknoiue calls vidtout, \.. c, 
 "Anatole — Anatole !") Oh! Mademoiselle Zeiiohic, with my 
 guardian — I can't face them now, I am so agitated. 
 
 (Anat. a^capes by one irinthir, u. c, an Ma DAM':. Zkno., 
 followed hji Buisi;., enters at the ut/icr, ],. c.) 
 
 Zeno. Anatole! Anatole! gone — escaped! 
 
 Brise. {fu>hltit<j a hnttcfflu-uct, in tr/iich /.■>• a huttn-fy) Nd 
 such thing — I've got him- isn't he a beauty ? 
 
 Zeno. Anatole? 
 
 Brise. (l.^No: my butterfly — a remarkable specimen, my dear. 
 
 Zeno. Bother your butterfly! br;;ther, bntther, I tell yoii, 
 you had better be looking after that tlii^hty boy, than spendin,' 
 your time hunting for dirty insects. 
 
 Bkise. (sifting by tabh) My precious Zenobie, cntomolo;jy is 
 a science which never did harm to any living creature {.itirhs 
 hutterjly icith a pin on hii^ hot) 
 
 Zkno. {snappishLy) I tell you once more, brother, that you 
 don't fultil your duties as giuirdiau to that child. , ^ 
 
 Brise. A child! poor dear little baby ! 
 
 Zeno. It was all very well before you conceived the ridi- 
 culous idea of taking the boy with you to Paris. 
 
 Brise. It was necessary, my dear, tor his law business 
 
 Zeno. And putting all sorts of notions into his lu'ad. by 
 throwing him the wav of a (luaiility of iuiproi>er TarL-ian llirt-. 
 
 Bhisk. I'm sure he only saw the best ol ciimpany at 
 Madame de la Glaciere's. , 
 
 Zeno. Madame de la (Jlaeit.ie, indeed! The greatest llirt that 
 ever existed! I'ni suie she got herself prettily talked nf httore 
 her marriage — only ask that absurd frieiul of yours, .Monsieur 
 Prosper Couramont, who has just arrivt d at your luaise tVoni 
 Cochin China, or Nova Zembla, or liea\en ku'iw^ where. 
 
 Brise. AVell, if she did llirt with Prosper a little before lu' 
 went abroad, it was before she was uuirried— what of ;hal? 
 
 Zeno. What of that? Flirting is tllrting, leftire or aiOT 
 and the ftnd ber l*aribi«u tlijijhty IVieud, Madumoifeellu »Su>saniiu' 
 
ACT!.] 
 
 BCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 who is old enough to know better, circ not fit associates for an 
 iniiocont boy like that. "'> 
 
 BiilsE. And do v(Hi expect that he is to be an innocent boy 
 gll his lite— tied to y»»iir apron .strings? I was an innocent boy 
 ont'O niyselt", and I am nnw a devil ot"a t'elhjw 
 
 YjISo. Ibothor, 1 insist on you bidding yom* tongue I You 
 know you arc going to >ay sonuthing .sJDeking. 
 
 Hkisi:. Well, there, tin re! We'll get him well married, to 
 let p him (Uit of hnnn's way. 
 
 /j;n<). Married! {■■</'iuj'rriir/) ^\'cIi, tliore can bono objection 
 to tiiat, proviiling wc lind him a filling [trudent helpmate. 
 
 Bkisk. The tiuth is, I have an idea 
 
 Zi;n(>. Yon? nonsense! What's your idea, 1 should like to 
 knew? 
 
 r.i;isi:. Well — no — 1 haven't an idea, {goes tip towards 
 v:iiif/<>ir, K.) 
 
 ZiN'o. You've got some foolish notion in your bead. Speak, 
 dir — 1 insist on it. 
 
 Eiil> r I'liosiT.i;, f)i/ n'iiitfinr, P. C, (li'csacd in nn cntiro vJiite suit, 
 mth a C/iiiicsc panrsol over his /ie>u/, and a Chinese fan. 
 
 Piiosr. Don't speak, Brisemouche I {both (urn) 
 
 Zi:no. {Hliarji/ii) r>ir ! 
 
 IMios. (c.) Dun't speak, I tell you! AVhen your amiable 
 Bister tails in vi'»K'nce, she will have recourse to the charms of 
 pcr-uasive seduction, which will be all to her advantage {bows 
 to Zr.N<»iui:) 
 
 nuisK. (I-.) Oh, oh ! as to seduction 
 
 Zkno. (u.) llolil your tongue— you arc going to say souse- 
 thing shocking again, ^cro^i-sen to l\\iis\:MnVviu:--t<) ri{t)sjri:K) 
 And do you mean to say you have been round the village in 
 that outlamlish gaib? 
 
 I'uosi*. I've Ih'Cu round tnv world in it ! {rrossrs to C.) And 
 1 may say trinniphantly, I produced the most striking etVect 
 iii.»t now, on a ciiarming uirl, I met on horseback— a eharnung 
 girl ! t?lic lauulieil in n»y face ! 
 
 ZiND. 1 should thlijk so, with that parasol and that fan! 
 Such an outrage on all decorum was never seen ! 
 
 Pitnsp. Very fri'tpu'iuly at Pcktn. 
 
 lluisK. Yes, among sui h sa\ag(s as tlie Chinese 
 
 I'i!«).-l'. .lavages ' l/steu t(» my l-iurnpean! lie thi.:ks him- 
 solt' the great lord of civilisation, when once he has sneered 
 out the word ".^avages." ^^'hy, man, in these two highly 
 civili/.ed coinitries, Chinji and .l.apan, the savage woidd be you 
 — with your whiskers like two nuitton chops on either side of 
 your face, and yoin- ehinmey-pot of a hat ou your houvl. 
 
 Bftiafc:. I — a sava;re ? 
 
 M I JJ I U 
 
•r 
 
 SCRAP OP PArER. 
 
 [ACTt. 
 
 Prosp. Yes— you— I— Mademoiselle—all of ub— in China! 
 My friend Briscmouchc doesn't cat hashed puppy dogs and 
 stewed birds' nest ; but he devours pickled oysters ana snaili 
 « la ffouktte. My friend MadtraoiboUe Zcnobie doesn't pinch 
 her little foot in a ehoe the size of a walnutshell ; but she 
 pinches hes waist, and sticks out her dress with a cage of 
 crinoline. I don't smoke opium — but I smoke twenty cigars 
 a-day — ruin my pocket, brutalise my faculties, ana make 
 myself a nuisance to every delicate rose ! Savages all of us, 
 I tell you — savagt's 1 J 
 
 Brise. I should like to see you come to a pitched battle 
 with Mademoiselle Suzanne on these points ; and I'll wager she 
 has the best of it. I know her arrival here is expected in the 
 course of the day. 
 
 PRUSP. And pray, who is this redoubtable Mademoiselle 
 Suzanne ? 
 
 Brisk. Mademoiselle Suzanne de Kuseville, cousin to 
 Madame do la Glaci^re, and godmother to her young sister 
 Mathilde 
 
 Prosp. Godmother, and still Mademoiselle f 
 
 Bri8£. Although mistress of a large fortune, she has refused 
 every offer, and chosen to remain single from the sheer love of 
 independence. 
 
 Zeno. Ridiculous affection I Don't talk of her — she's 
 highly improper I 
 
 Brise. At any rate, though she does live in the midst of 
 the best Parisian society in the most independent stylo 
 
 Zeno. The audacious creature ! 
 
 Brisk. She makes a better use of her freedom than most 
 women do of their 
 
 Zeno. Hold your tongue, brother ! {crosbes to R.) You are 
 going to say something shocking. 
 
 Brisk, {seeing the Bauon de la Glacieije, l. door) Hush, 
 hush, my dear ! here comc's our host, the liaron de la Glacifire 
 —as usual, all life, spirits, and gaiety. 
 
 Enter the Bauon, l. door. 
 
 Zeno. My dear Baron, [crosses t-> l.) Pm delighted to see 
 you! How is your dear lady— slept well, I hope, after the 
 fatigues of her journey? 
 
 Bar. {cold and iinpassire) Perfectly. 
 
 Brise. Is she visible yet ? 
 
 Bar. Yes. 
 
 Brisk. We will go and pay our respects, (crosses to l.) 
 Allow mo to present to you my friend, Monsieur Pro.««per 
 Couramont, who is staying in my house. He wants to speak 
 to you on a matter of considerable importance. 
 
[act t. ■ ^^ ^-1 
 
 SCBAP OP PAPER. 
 
 Baron. Very well, {neatnl h. of table) 
 
 Prosp. {naUh) It isn't a man — it's a polar bear I 
 
 Brisk. Come, Zenubie, you know when men want to talk in 
 private 
 
 ZtNO. Silence, you were going to say something improper; 
 you know you were. 
 
 Ej-eiint Bi{i<K\foiCFin and Madkmoi.ski.i.f. Zexodie, l. 
 tilt r. BaUoS motloits I'uoSl'KH to be tnutal. 
 
 Tkosp. Vou Won't think nie nuh", liaron, it', at this very 
 early perio<l of our actiuaintjinco, 1 ask a favour of you ? 
 {statt'(l) ^ 
 
 Bakon. Want to shoot over my land? 
 
 Pk(>si*. {s'ttlimj) Not exactly. The game I have in view is 
 not precisely what you Juean. 
 
 Bauon. [cifol/tf) Ah! 
 
 Prosp. 1 am a queer, frank felh)w ; and I always go straight 
 to the point. I tlaresay you will be sm'prised to liear that, 
 though r\e come all the wav from the otlier end of the world 
 to get married, it is nevertheless very much against my will. 
 
 Bar. {aa be/ore) Ah ! 
 
 Prosp. Now, I'll tell you how. 1 am the only heir of my 
 uncle, who is enormously rich, and still more enormously 
 obstinate. I have always been a sort of careless devil, and 
 never took much care of my money — that may surpise you. 
 
 Baron Not in the least.' 
 
 Prosp. My travels round the world have played the deuce 
 and all with my fortuue; you naturally ask, why I should havo 
 undertaken them. 
 
 Baron. No, I don't. 
 
 Prosp. No ? then you don't want to know how the cruel 
 treachery of a heartless coipiette compelled me to seek oblivion 
 on the stormy brine ? 
 
 Baron. No. "^ 
 
 Prosp. No ? but, of course, you must be impatient to learn 
 the reasons which compul me to marry. 
 
 Baron. No. 
 
 Prosp. You'll excuse me, but it's indispensably nccossarv 
 you should be impatient to learn them; or else I shouldu t 
 have any earthly reason for telling you them. 
 
 Baron, (cuoly) Very well— I'm all impatience. 
 
 Prosp. Thank you I your obvious impatience I will relieve 
 at once. About a month ago, after t(»ssing more or less on 
 the aforesaid stormy brine for the space of three years, I 
 knocked, with all my crocodiles, stuffed parrots, and pet 
 monkeys, at the door of the uncle I just mentioned. He liveH 
 •bout a mile from here, in a sort of dilapidated owl's nest. 
 / Ab, ^ou vagabond,'* said he, " it is you, is it ?" " Yes," said 
 
 >»•' n 
 
10 
 
 flCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act I. 
 
 
 ii 
 
 I 
 
 I, " it, 18.** "And are you manicil V" snid lie. "Maniod?" 
 Huiil I, " ilo ymi think I've lir.iiiL;lit lioiiu? \\\v Qimcu of tlio 
 Cttimibal l>l.iiiil.-.?" " 1 1 tail less riiiruin," ^aid lir, *• fciH- li.ivc 
 I coiidciiiiiiMl myself to tin.; iniscrii'S ol' Cflil'iU'v, I'litindy on 
 your HftMimit, rsitccliii.; ymi tu marry and hriii^ liomc a wife 
 to make mv uriicl I'ur nu- ; ami vuii |i('r>ist (»n icaviiii^ m<' a 
 solitary amlinriic in my licrmila^^c'' \lv was sjicakiii-^ of iho 
 owl's nest — "(j»»," said lii', "lln-id an- pli'iiiy of idiariiiiii;,; jjjirls 
 in lliu m'iu;ldn.mlii)nd, and if ynii don't prt'st-nt nm with a 
 niffcin law in .•-i\ mouth-^ timi!, 1 will marry my maid-ot'-alN 
 Work, and cut )uu oil \\illi ;i .•joU." iNi.»\Y what do yuu bay 
 to that ? 
 
 JiAUoN. Nothin;:. 
 
 I'kosi'. Nothing y V'-ry will, tlun — we won't say another 
 word ainint it, Wtll, I at once took up my (juartfrs at tin; 
 house of Ihisi'monidu!, yom* nci-hlionr, who always has a 
 baolu lor den ready tor mc. I told him mv tlilennna, and Ik; 
 at oni'o snL;m'.-le<l a way out of it. In; lUtserilKci your 
 charmin;,; sisii'r-iii-law as ju-t the wiJe I'or me-— advisiid me to 
 pay yon a vi^it, make your ai<|naintance, and jtropose for tlin 
 yonn^ lady's hainl. I ha\«' jiaid yow a visit, made your 
 act|naintanee, and 1 hereby propose for the young lady's hand. 
 {rini's) 
 
 liAUoN. Very j;oud. 
 
 I'iMvsf. Well, then, what do you say 
 
 liAiJON. 1 don't say " no." 
 
 Pitosi'. Then you Kuy "yes." 
 
 liAlJi>N. No. 
 
 Pkiisi'. 'I'll. 11. my dear sir, what the Acncc dn you say? 
 
 liAUnN. \'on must set! niy wit'e. and her sisku"— its their 
 aftair. {riitj/n — IJAUnx rinfn) 
 
 I'lttisi'. So he it - I hail ihe honour of kiiowin;^ Madame de 
 la (Jiaeiere before her mairia^i', threi; years a^o, when I was 
 stayin^:^ with Ibiseinuuehe, but nut her charming sister, who 
 was then at school, 
 
 Euto' I'Ari.iNK, It. (f'Or, 
 
 Baiion'. Tell your mistress, a .!j;entlenian re(inests to see lior. 
 
 PliOSP. And s^ive lu r my c.-ird at the same time. 
 
 /.'// I 'a I i.iNi:, I., doui'f with card. 
 
 Baron. Stop to buudi if yuu like. 
 
 Pljosf. Knelianled! 
 
 Bai:om. Excuse me now— 1 must go and look after mvdogs. 
 (ov).s'.S(\s- /o It. c.) AVe have a shooting [larty after luncheon — 
 you can eome with us it" you liki*. Kxit by iviiuioK\ n.C. 
 
 I'ltosr. Cordial creature! I ba^e made easy work of the 
 husband — aud now for the wife. His wife! Louise! Pretty 
 
ACI l.j 
 
 SCRAP OF TAIMYR. 
 
 It 
 
 (li.urn'H tlir«>o vpar« Ii:ivc liP<»U'.'hf iiltont I Not in thin room, 
 ll,.,ii .|i i( |mm!,< r\;ii|l\ as wlifu I lii>l >u\v it tlir t.iMt' -llic 
 (.III Mil nth- tlio .^ain».* — ami llif vtiry hjiiiu' pit'ce ofomltioidtTy. 
 (lii'.i 'J lift Inn/.) "(u;in'\i(Ve !" tlic vnv liMok wt" wcrfrfjuliiii;. 
 W'liv. it's the ]».iltfr! ot' till- skrpiii;^ ln-aiity in tliu wooil, witb 
 cvi . • tliinj; Jislffp ill its jiljice. 
 
 iliitn- tli, I5ai;oni;s<. L(»risn \n\ \.\ (ii.ACir.iiK, \.. door. 
 
 I.'.i isi:. 'i'ill v«iii « nmir i<i waku it ii)>, my faiiy Prince. 
 
 I'i:nsi'. {Iiirniitfi) l.uiiisi'! [I'/m'/riinf /i< r.v Ij'j iMailaiii ! 
 
 L •! fSK [i/'iKi'iiiff am/) 1 coulil marccly huliuvo my cyeM, 
 wli' II I icail (iiis \vi II kimwii iiaiiif. iVinl it is r»ally y<»u? 
 
 rcosi'. I'd.iiivrly I, ami iKj olliti" am 1 ^•J LluiiigCMJ, tlicn ? 
 
 I,()i isi.. imlci'ij ydii arc I 
 
 I'luiM'. I'laiik, «L all L'vints. 1 will bu hh candid— time lia« 
 jiM'.-od vuii l»y. 
 
 hot isi:. As ^'allaiit im ever, I «>co--l)iit you arc wrong — I 
 am ilianu'cd nitircly. 
 
 l'i:osi'. liiitirtly V what, dot-s notlilii.,' thrn remain of the 
 luart wliicli. ilircc years a;j,o. prDmi^rd mim,' bo bright a (h'cam 
 dt" liaiiitiiii'ss? 
 
 Loi ISK. Notliin!; whatever — there's not » scrap of my heart, 
 P'lra thoiiiht nf miiid, that dues not lieloiig to its proper owntr. 
 
 I'KiiSf. A >a(l cliaii:-;e iiideeil. i,'''//^'"'/' 
 
 L'TisK. Now, don't si^dl in %it silly way, my dear Prosper 
 --Our idUi llirtatiun, I'm sure, has no more real place in your 
 heart than It has in mine We shall always be good friends, 
 aiKl have lon;4 talks about your travels, and so on. And now, 
 what did you wish to see me about':* 
 
 l*i;«)si'. About my marriage 
 
 Jjinisi:. Mairiage! tel me all about it — with wliom? 
 
 Pittisi'. With your sister, Mademoiselle Malhihlede Merival. 
 
 Lot ISK. Mathiltle! she's a mere child. 
 
 I'httsi'. There are uo chiltlren now, madam, except babies 
 in arms. 
 
 Li»ri>i;. lint she doesn't even know you. 
 
 Pit' •SI'. ,So much the better— the unknown has so many 
 charms. 
 
 Li)Li>i:. llow do yon know but what she ma^ love some- 
 body «'l.*ey 
 
 Pltoal'. I should be delighted to iiear it. 
 
 1..MI i.m:. 1)( lighted? 
 
 PijHSi'. \'.iia;iilv, my dear madam. Pyg be<*n in China, 
 and know -omethiiiLr about teas — It's a capital plan to pour 
 n tiling water on the tea leaves, in order to oi»en them, and 
 tlieii throw it awa. — the lir.-t int'usion is apt to be bitter — tho 
 bext cup ifi buic to be all the more agreeabi«-^i?o with love^ 
 
 
 : up? 
 

 IS 
 
 SCllAP OP PAPBR. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 
 [act 1. 
 
 my dear madam,— 4tirow the first tnftision atray ; and the second 
 will have all the real flavour. 
 
 Louise. You arc not so much changed as I thought — you 
 are as absurd as ever, I see. 
 
 PUOSP. You are hapny, I prefiumo? 
 
 Louise. Perfectly : 1 love my husband devotedly— (rMw) — 
 and if I have a regret, it is that I should have deluded myself 
 into the belief I ever cared for another. 
 
 Prosp. There, you see — you have flung your first infusion 
 away ; and the matrimonial cup iii all the sweeter for it. Why 
 should you deprive your charmmg sister of the same advantage? 
 
 1^)UISK. Prosper, with my consent, this absurd marriage niivor 
 ehall take place. I was a silly, frivolous, foolish co(|uette--if 
 you will — when first 1 knew you, sir. Much as I dtcuivod 
 myself in fancying I was attached to you, I will not have the 
 remembrance of my folly forced upon me, by the presence, in 
 my family — before n>y husband's eyes — of one whom I have 
 ever permitted to 
 
 Prosp. Don't stop— to utter words of love, which you so 
 •wectly echoed. 
 
 Louise, {angnly at first— then cahnhj) You yourself have 
 
 {>roved how right I am. — Come, come, be generous. — It is but 
 ittle I ask of you.- -You do not even know my sister — j:ive up 
 the idea of her, and leave the house ; be assured, I shall ever 
 feel for you the truest friendship. 
 
 Puosp. I am very sorry— but I don't believe it. 
 
 Louise. You don't believe 
 
 Prosp. In your friendship — no— no more than I would 
 counsel you to believe in mhie. You are right in saying that 
 what we both thought love — yes — both — was nothing of tke 
 Bort. — But, besides wounded atfection, there is such a thing as 
 wounded vanity. — Three years ago you dropped me like a liot 
 potatoe. (Prosper advances to Louise— »Ac retreats tit i..) That 
 potatoe's not cold yet— I have nursed it at the poles, and 
 roasted it at the tropics ; the ashes of wounded vanity still 
 glow in it; aud notliing but revenge can quench thcni. 
 
 Louise. What do you mean ? [seated, ialcivy up emhroidcrtj] 
 
 Prosp Everything around us remains exaatly as when we 
 last met. * It wUl require the very smallest eil)>rt of imagina- 
 tion on your part to believe the interval of three vcars only 
 one night-^that our parting was but yesterday. Well— yester 
 day you were sitting there working at that very same piece of 
 embroidery — [seated) I was sitting here reading aloud this 
 identical book ; your mother dozed in yonder arm chair — but 
 dozed 80 lightly that our love could only be expressed in looks 
 tnd sighs, and little notes flicked across the table — notes that I, 
 poor innocent that I waS; never failed to burs, {risea) Look \ 
 
ACT 
 
 1.1 
 
 scnAP o» PAPfitt. 
 
 1ft 
 
 even our beloved post -box— that statuette of Flora— Is wtill 
 there, as it w.ih there yoiirs ni:o — I iiiejiii yesterdfty. Well, 
 then — yesterday eveniii;^, Mndemolsellu Louiie de Merival, 
 vou left me with the Hwcet consoling words* "Wo meet 
 8j:ain to-niMnuw " — and this morning I lind yon Haroness 
 dt la (Macir>rc. You niubt admit the tranBtbnnatiuu appears 
 r&tlicr abrupt. 
 
 LoriKL. And whose was the fault? — your'i — and your's 
 alone I 
 
 Tkosp. Mine? 
 
 l.oi isE. Why were yo«i not near me to prevent the wicked 
 Baron from carrying nu' oH"? 
 
 rnosi*. Where was I y On leaving you last night — three 
 Tcnr^ ago — instead of going home to ben, I stayed standing on 
 the damp grass to gaze upon your window — I had lighted a 
 citj'ar and was omitting sm(»k(' and sighs together, when all at 
 once I saw a little bright spot before ine. It wasn't a glow- 
 worm— it was another cigar. 
 
 LouiSK. A cigar I 
 
 I'Kosp. Yes; with a man bcliind it— one of yeur ardent 
 admirers, Monsieur de Uivi^'re, — Mutual snrprise, considerably 
 augmented by the discovery of a third bright spot I It was a 
 tliini eigar- with a tliird man behind it — Monsieur deTonnere, 
 another of your ardent admirers. 
 
 Loi'lsK. "Ah ! (rt'scK) 
 
 l*U(».si'. Three burning hearts offering the incense of their 
 love and tkeir cigars beneath your window I Stormy explana- 
 tions ensued I and two very satisfactory little duels M'cre the 
 consequence. 
 
 L()U1.><E. Good heavens! 
 
 TROrT. De Tonnere contrived to give me a Inngc througli 
 the arm, which caused me to be carried home fainting, and put 
 to bed in a state of high fever and delirium — and there's where 
 I was. 
 
 Loui.se. But my letter must have explained 
 
 I'KUSP. Your letter? 
 
 Lmuisk. Yes — the letter that I wrote to tell you of my 
 mother's determination to start for I'aris at daybreak— to marry 
 nic to the liaron de la CJlaciere. I scarce know what I wrote; 
 but you must know you mn.-t remcmbci. 
 
 Pnosr. Upon my honour, this is the tir^t word I have heard 
 of it. 
 
 Loii.sK. Do not say that. I came down here by stealth to 
 place the letter in the usual spot— curtain that you would seek, 
 and tind it there, the ne.\t morning. 
 
 Pit():>r. But tlie next morning I was la ft bed with a high 
 fever, I toll you. 
 
Ur 
 
 SCRAP OP rAPEn. 
 
 ' [act I. 
 
 LoursR. (rtsintj alarmcfJ) liut if you did not take it, who 
 did? Wheit! can the letter be ? 
 
 I'lJOSI'. Where it was, perhaps — iii^idc tlic Fh)ra ! 
 
 Louise. Yes — this room has never been opened since 
 
 Pkosf. Then the letter must be still there. 
 
 hoLMSE. 1 scarce dare look. 
 
 l*i{Ot<p. Never mind, I will. 
 
 LoLiSB. {eayirly) No 1 I, I. (they both go up to Flora) 
 
 Enter the liAIloN De LA Glacieue hi/ n. c. nimhnc. 
 
 PHosr. tujiihiff aharply^ ivith coolness) >'our dogs are all 
 right, my (ieur sir? 
 
 liAuoN. All right, {crosses to c.—to Louise) ^Vliat's the 
 matter ? 
 
 JjOUISE. Nothing. 
 
 Bakon. Vou seem agitated. 
 
 Puosp. Yes : the subject of our conversation — the object of 
 my interview— was of a nature to 
 
 JiAKON. (c.) Oil ! exactly— your otVer. 
 
 I'lio.si'. (K.) Precisely ho. 
 
 liAUoN. {to Louise) Well ? 
 
 Puosi'. Well, it appears it's a settled afVair. 
 
 Louit«E. (L ) I have convinced Monsieur Couramont that 
 there arc serious obstacles in the way. 
 
 liAKON. Ah I 
 
 Puort. 1 beg your pardon! Obstacles to mo are only ^ tiniulanfR. 
 
 Enter Matiulde, e. door, followed hy Zenouie and Anatole 
 E. door, and BuESEMoucilE. 
 
 Math, {kisslnf/ Louise) Ciood morning, sister uearl 
 
 Puosi', {asulc) Sister I she ! my enchanting horsewoman of 
 thismoining! {aloml) No, no: unless the lady herself objects, 
 I hliall endeavour to stand my ground. ^ 
 
 liAitoN. Quite right — try your luck (goes up u.) ^ 
 
 l^oi Ksi:. {loiv to Pkosi'Ek) This is neither delicate or gener- 
 ous of you : but, at Jie same time, it is perfectly useless, 
 believe me. (yocj iiji) 
 
 Zeno. {coniiiifj don'u to Anatoee — aparf to him) I forbid 
 you >o say ono word to that Mademoiselle Mathildcj, sir. {tal\.i 
 Anatole ainty) 
 
 BursK. [cunung down to Prosi'Eu) Well, hovdo you get on? 
 What does the Baro'.iess say to your suit? {crosses to r.) 
 
 Puosr. .She has declared iigaiust nu\ But I defy her. Bri^e- 
 mouclie, did yoi'. ever see two men aim at uiio |tHrtridg< ? 
 T'<at't exactly what 1 and the Baroues» are douig. Th« 
 pRr^ridg?} is there. 
 
 £biss Aparuidgd? Where? 
 
 1! 
 
ACT. I.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 w 
 
 Prosp. (iumiiiff, and seeing Louise on the point of raising up 
 iga statuette of Flora) Hy Jove! she's going to bring it down ! 
 
 Untcr M.vnEMOisELLE Suzanne m: Kuseville, l. c. 
 
 Suz. Here I am at last I 
 
 {ereryhtuhf turns round — Louise is obliged to put down thi 
 sfatuette) 
 
 Brisk. ^ MadenioiKelle do Riiseville t 
 
 Louise. ^Sii; ainu! ! 
 
 Matii. ) All, my dear godmother! 
 
 Prosf. {tcliik the H.VKONK.S.S gois to embrace Suzanne) She 
 has missed this time. Now it'» my turn ! (goes up to the Flora, 
 bttt is 8toj>/>e(f Inj /I'.N'olHi:, u:hu intercejits his passage) 
 
 Suz. i^kinsiitg the liAUoMiss and Matuilue) Uow d'ye do — 
 how d'ye do ? 
 
 Math. I'll see that your room is ready. Euit, l. door. 
 
 Suz. How do you do, cousin? {to Hahon, u.) Vou know 
 you are a bear— Imt I'll allow you to hug me for once in u way. 
 Ah, Monsieur llritiemouche ! 
 
 Brise. (presenting AnaToI.E) My young ward, whom I 
 tlwiik you met in Paris. 
 
 /eno. (pluclcing Anatoi.E, xcho is advancing towards 
 SrzANNE) (Atme away, sir, the impudent creature may want to 
 kiss gou next ! 
 
 .Suz. (pulling Anatole tmrards A/r) Now you sliall see how 
 J'll make the dear boy blush! {ajfern her hand, which he i$ 
 obliged to Kiss) There! Ditln't 1 tell you hu'd bluf-'i '* ^bowing 
 to Zenouie) Mademoiselle Zenobie, as fresh as ev >;. 
 
 Zk.no. (n., curtseyinq stijig) Math moiselle I (* ..- uway 
 
 Anatoi.E, and gires him a scolding ajnirt) 
 
 I..OUISE. (l.., turning and seeing pKosi'lIt, who has gone up, nnd 
 at thiit utoment has hin hand on Flora j Muusieur Couramont ! 
 
 Pkosp. Mi.ssed ! 
 
 Louise, {presenting Pi:o."<i*ek eogerlff, so has to oliligt him to 
 Come dowu) Monsieur Prosper, allo\\ me to present you to 
 Mademoiselle de Uu.seville. 
 
 Srz. Dtdighted! {looking at 1ntth <>/ them, miiie) llumt 
 hum ! there's somcthiu^ t;<'i»:^ on In re ! 
 
 (Brisi;M(H( HE behind t Ue, ».— liAuoN by his side, R,-^ 
 Anatoi E (inti Zknoihe on s fa, \..) 
 
 pHOsi". (e.) 1 have long been desirous of being introduced to 
 you. Mademoiselle. 
 
 Huz. You are fond of cnriosilirn, 1 l;!irvoV 
 
 Urisb. ile has colkited theui Irum ail parts of the WOrU. 
 He's a mighty traveller — — 
 
 buz. A man's happy privilege ! How is a poor woman to 
 
 '•s 
 
1 
 
 1« 
 
 BCnAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act I. 
 
 ■cumper orer the world in steel hoop? And crinoline petticoats? 
 What is the greatest curiosity you nave seen in the world? 
 
 Pros I . The greatest curiosity? Woman, of course I 
 
 HVZ, It »eein.s you havr Mudiod the animal. 
 
 l*Rosr. Yes, as Hrisemourlu! does insects and reptiles. 
 
 Suz. 1 hope you have not found any vci'omous .specimens. 
 
 riiosp. Sometimes— and they are generally tliv fairest to 
 the eye. {tunia to Imk at tht liAi{oNK.<.s, and sees her about to 
 take down the Floia — aside) She'.s at it again ! {idt.ud) 1 was 
 just making that identical remark to Madame de la (ilaci^re— 
 wasn't 1 y {by directly addremmj the Uako.nksh, he forces her to 
 drop the tVora, which she han Just Ufi'd oiid come down — he 
 offers her a chair ^ and thus oblit/es her to sit) I was comparing 
 woman to a l)ird with a sharp beak, lun:{ claws and varied 
 plumage, which it is always striving tu show otl' to the best 
 advantage, and mouh.s at every caprice of tashiuii. 
 
 Suz. Indeed ! And would you .speak in that lone of yoiu 
 mother, or your sister, or your wife* 
 
 Prosp. 1 haven't got one. 
 
 Suz. Then, that's the reason you are bo deficient In yout 
 knowledge of natural history. 
 
 Prosp. But, my dear madam, the exception only proves the 
 rule. 
 
 Suz. But, my dear sir, the rule in whuUy made up of excep- 
 tioni. 
 
 Prosp. Well, I confess I believed in exceptions, until 
 
 Suz. Until what? 
 
 pRosi". I ntil two or three pleasant attempts were made to 
 poison me. Since then, even in our civilized country, where 
 poisons take the fihape of pertidy and breach of faith, 1 liave 
 •worn never t<> be without mi antidote. 
 
 Bkise. HiesK my sodl ! an aotidute ! of what uature? 
 
 Pi«0!*i». Oh, the merest tiirte, somctimos, is enough -a mere 
 •crap of paper, pi-rhaps a nmrsel of liandwnting. 
 
 Si)K. {(tftide) lie moans son^ letter. Hum ! hum ! What 
 ia all thiH ? 
 
 BkI8K Fie, fio t you wouKhiH U9e sucK a weapon against a 
 woman. 
 
 Pitoap. I Would— as a shield — wA « «xv.v»\l. Such a aystem 
 ia bermissihle by the moral code of eveiy nation. 
 
 Brisk. There I we shall have him citing his darling Chinese, 
 now. 
 
 Projjp. Why not Y They are our superK^^s in many thinga — 
 their porcelain, for insiaiu*. Now, v^wnnare with i'hineso 
 works of art thiH little Sovrea orn.xmeut for instance {to the 
 Bakonkss) ft ii 4 vatuette of Flora, 1 perceive, (taken tf^vm 
 ^ Flora) 
 
 ^*ii 
 
ACT I.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAfES. 
 
 17 
 
 Louis, (afarmed) Stop, sir ! 
 
 Prosp. Don't be alirmed, madam ! I know all hi valae. 
 
 Louise, {trying to stop him) Give it to me — it's covered 
 with dust. 
 
 Pbosp. (coming do 'n with it) Don't give yourself the troti- 
 ble. (aside) I feel the letter. 
 
 Louise, {trying to dust with her handkfirchuif) Allow me, 
 with my handkerchief 
 
 PRO.^p. No, no ! I'll blow on it — that will do- (ttirntawayM 
 (/■ to blow the dust off the statuette) 
 
 Suz. (seizing Vie hand of nAUON»:ss to slap her — apart) Your 
 husband's eyes are upc i you. 
 
 Louise. Oh! did voii but know! (Hit letter falU) Ah I 
 Prosper puts his foot hazily on the letter) 
 
 Suz. (aside) A letter ! I was sure of it ! 
 
 pROSP. (giving the Flora to the Baroness) It in evident you 
 let great store by tliis little ornament, madam. 
 
 Louise, (low to him) What you are doing is shameful, sir! 
 
 (the bell rings without for luncheon.) 
 
 Enter Matiiilde, l. door. 
 
 Math. Luncheon is ready. 
 
 Brise. (getting up) I'm not sorry to hear it. 
 
 An AT. (rising hastily, and getting away from Zenobie) No ! 
 nor I. 
 
 Zeno. (apart to Anatole) I forbid you to sit by the side of 
 that Mademoiselle Mathilde. 
 
 Anat. But I 
 
 Zeno. I forbid you, I say. 
 
 Math, (seizing hold of Anatole) You'll give mo your arm, 
 Monsieur Anatote ? 
 
 Zeno. I foibid you. (t*irning, she fimls herself opposite to ths 
 Bahon, xrho offers hfv his arm formally, she is obliged to accept — 
 the BakONF.mi' >",tf-i/lingl»f, ttdceti fh^ arm of Biui<KM'>ri;HK. and 
 ke^fts looking '^lek <U Pko.><im;r — the jHirty gradually prepare to 
 go o'4t, L. door) 
 
 Jil'Z. '/o Pi;o»i»eh, (k/io never stirs, and stands witli his foot on 
 the Utterj My dear hir, doi/t you nuan to offer m<; your arm ? 
 
 Pkosp. I besr your pardon, but I've let fall my handkerchief. 
 {lets frdl his hand kerchief and picks t'p the letter niHi it) 
 
 Suz. [low to him) Come, cuine ! (Hive it up like a geatieman. 
 
 Plioi*!'. {low to her) Give up what ? 
 
 Suz. The letter 1 
 
 Phosp. My antidote? No, I thank you. 
 
 Suz. I'll make you give k up. 
 
 Pkosp. I'll l>et you anything you like, you won't. 
 
 8l'» I'll bet you aoy thiug you Uke, I will. 
 
18 
 
 6CEAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [ACT IL 
 
 Baion. {turning hack) Arc you comiui,', you two ? 
 
 Probp. {aloud) Deign to Hccejit my arm, jnii(l;iine. 
 
 8uz. So you are a collector of curiosities? I think 1 feliall 
 be able to sliow you a few curious nuitUa-s which may astoiiisk 
 you, great traveller as you arel 
 
 pKOSr. {lanyhiiifj) In instruments of warfare? 
 
 Suz. In instruments of warfare ! Have you ever met with 
 any Amazons in your travels? They say it is a fabulous rate 
 — not quite, my (kar 'ilr ; not quite, 1 can assure you -I'm an 
 Amazon 1 Only, now-a-days people call ub old maids, blue 
 stockings, or strong-minded women ! 
 
 {they go tqt towards L. door^ laughing) 
 
 END OF FIRST ACT. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — noo)n assigned to Pi-oi^pcry in the House of Briscr- 
 inoucJie — C. door in Jiid — U. 3 K., a (riiidmr — a bedc/iamhrr 
 door, K. 2 E., rendered almost invisible h/f being covered trith 
 the same paper as the rest of the room, and adorned by a large 
 picture — 11. 1 !•:., a Jinpface and wood fire—L. 3 E., an 
 Enuptian mummy cane, and other curionitirji — L. 2 E., o high 
 glaxed oise^J'ull of m inral cnriosHies — L. 1 E., a door- -on all 
 sides, maps, exotic plants, ntnjj'al animals, Eastern tveajxms 
 and ornaments, pipes, porvibtin vaaen, tviiv<ller''s tent, cf"C., (fr. ; 
 Indian grass, mats, and shins of wild beasts on 'hejbior — tt.r., 
 « large table nufh eas/.rf, bnnhs, an album, an inkstand, a. great 
 U)bacca-jar, letters, visiting cards, dc; another table, coven <l 
 witli cunosities, L. c. — armchairs, rocLing -chairs, stools, dc. 
 
 PROSI'EU COUUAMONT is sealed in an easy chair, K., before tXi 
 table, wrapped in a fur dressing-gown, with a fox-shin cap on 
 his head. 
 
 Phosp. a pretty climate, Upon my word I Th^'e's no scnso 
 about it ! Ik'loro luncheon it was as hot as C-alcutta; and n<»w, 
 Inter in the afternoon, it is as cold as Siberia! {thrown another 
 log on the Jirc) i can't stand caprice even in the weather. The 
 nmle beings are out shooting. 1 wish th'jm joy of their sport. 
 (M;a;//<« hintse/f at fire. ) 
 
 Francois appears at c. door. 
 
 What do yott want? Como in, do— and »lmt the door I 
 I didn't ring. 
 
ACT IT-T 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 19 
 
 FnAN. A K'ttor for you, sir. The mcs.sojgor waits for nn 
 answer. 
 
 ruof-p. {tnhinfi tlir h'ltev) All, from my uncle ac];!!!!! ! 1 knovir 
 his It'ttir l»y ho.irt l)of"ore I rcid it —every (l;iy the .-nine f-tory ! 
 "Heartless rejirobate! win re is your wife?" {ir.dinff) Of 
 
 course — '• lie.utKss rej-nilati; ! Avlicrc is" The twentieth 
 
 rdition, neitb.cr ;Mnenilc(l or eorrwctetl. {throws hifcv into the 
 Jirc) Say that I'll be witii iiini in less tliMU an hour, and have 
 my horse saddled. ICrit Fkancois, c. thor. 
 
 1 can be there and back again in hssthnn no time 1 I'll see 
 the precious cM ueiitienian myself, jind tell him I've found a 
 wife — a charniin;- wife - a delicious little wife! {rul/ini/ up a 
 ciyarctte) I'll win her, spile woman's wit and woniurs wdes. 
 Ah! you defy mc to morial eond)at — do you, .Mademoiselle 
 SiiJ^anne? You want to steal my antidote — do you, Mademoi- 
 BcUc Suzanne? l'us;>es^ioii is nine points to the good for nie ; 
 hut how to keej) possession ? Tlu! lining of n\y lint was a good 
 place of coneealinent ; but I've had a warning in hat linings. I 
 once slipped n,lnlh'Ulonx intttiny hat, left it oti a ferocious brother's 
 table; he picked it up. tlionght it was his own, and has worn 
 my letter on bis head ever since. My own room was the place 
 — but locks are mX to be trusted, and servants still less. My 
 casket, to be sure, has a secret sjiring; but caskets can be 
 carried olf Ijodily. i daresay some people mi^ht think it the 
 simplest aftair in the world to hide a scrap of i)aper. No sueli 
 thing! It was a problem -th.' knottiest o( problems— and 
 I consider that I made a stroke of gi tiius, by concealing my 
 prize in — (a knock at c. duuv) Who's there ? conie in. 
 
 Entev Anatoli:, c. dom\ 
 
 Pkosp. (r.) Oh, it's yoti, my young frieiul I You are not 
 out shooting with the other gentlemen then? 
 
 Anat. (i.., mokiiutrd ami enibdnuiscil, but tnjifuj to put on a 
 dij/iiiji<d air) No, sir. 
 
 I'KOrif. i>lM(lenu)iselle /enobie was afraid ol )0ur meeting 
 with some accident, probably. All rightl sit down. Take a 
 cigar'? 
 
 Anat. (as hrfore) I thank you, sir; I don't smoke. 
 
 I'uo.^i*. {sitH^ w. (tf tiil-l. ) .Vli, to be sure! Madeuioisello 
 Zenobio objects to smoking. 
 
 Anat. The fact is, sir, I am not hern for the purpose ol 
 enioking) but of having a serious conversation with you 
 
 I'Ko.sr. {siatal. u. n/t.ilj,; I'll Jirc) Indeed! 
 
 Anat. 1 have learned by chame from my guardian, this 
 morning, tJiat you have asked the huud oi' Madcukuiivlld 
 Mathilde de Merival in marriage. 
 
 pHosr. Quittf true ; whut tUeii f 
 
I . -1 
 
 \ '' 
 
 10 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 [act n. 
 
 Anat. Why tlicn. sir, I beg to inform you that I am in love 
 with Mademoiselle Mjilhii le, and that my most ardunt desire 
 ifl to make her my wile. 
 
 Pk(j81'. That is to say, if MademoiselU Zcnobio docs net 
 object. 
 
 Anat. Mademoiselle Zonobie has nothing to do witli it. sir. 
 It is an aflair bctucuu you and me. Will you have the kind- 
 ness to tell mo whether you still persist in your intention? 
 
 Pkosp. (aside) Poor boy ! {aloud) My reply will be brief- 
 Yes. 
 
 Anat. Well then, sir, you know the consequences. 
 
 PROsr. You don't mean a duel ? 
 
 Anat. 1 do. What else should I mean? 
 
 PROSP. Very well. But as there are several ways of du(^ 
 ling, may I ask which you prefer ? 
 
 Anat. I give you the choice, sir. 
 
 Pko.sp. Thank you. 1 own 1 have a sort of weakness fot 
 the .Japanese fashion 
 
 Anat. (//e/^i/j*/ j//*) The Japanese fashion by all means I I 
 shall have the honour of sending you my second 
 
 Puosi'. Oh, quite uunecesst ry ! The ati'air can be settled at 
 once. 
 
 Anat. (pnlling of his glotrs) Such a proceeding is contrary 
 to all established rules — but no matter— Pm your man 1 
 
 I'lJO.SP. (/((rfiinfj tin) Mtday daggers, and presenting them 
 politclg) Here are the tools for the job. Take your choice I 
 
 Anat. One of these ? 
 
 Prosp. Of course. (Anatoi-E takes one) You have taken the 
 biggest — but never mind. And now {sits down) you are the 
 challenging party, have the kindness to begin. 
 
 Anat. (turning in an attitude of defence, and mrimsed at 
 seeing Phospkk quiethj seated) Begin ! How ? 
 
 Prosp. {eooHi/) By ripping yourself up. 
 
 Anat. liip myself up ? 
 
 ]*ROSP. Yes, it's the Japanese manner of proceeding. They 
 call it "the happy despatch." The challenger rips himself up 
 first, and then the challenged is bound in honour to follow his 
 example. Proceed— I'll follow you immediately! 
 
 Anat. 1 am not to be made game of, sir ! ^^ e are in France 
 here, not in Japan ; and your fashion is utterly absurd. 
 
 Pro.-^p. My dear fellow, the whole fashion of duelling is 
 utterly absurd. In the first place, if we fought in tho usual 
 manner, / should kill you to a dead certainty. 
 
 Anat. Sirl 
 
 Pko?p. Oh. I should, I give you mv word ! And then you 
 couldn't prevent my marrying the lady. But if you rip your- 
 •elf, Aua I hftve to Ho the same, ^ou won*t marry her lv h% 
 
ACT llj 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 11 
 
 Burc— but youll have the pleasure of knowing that I CAD*I 
 
 tiiiier 
 
 Anat. You are tro.itiivG; me liko a chil'.l, sir! 
 
 I'hosi'. (riKmi iinil hohliuij out his huml) Say ratlier, like 1 
 fri.iid. C\)iut', my dear bov, let us H^lit out our light after a 
 more sensible nuiuucr — with our own stout hearts and mother- 
 wits. Vou say you love Madeinoisollo AUthilde — so far ao 
 g(M)d Fur aught 1 know, she may be very fond of you— so 
 far, so better. Hut, at the sauu; timo, illuw me to flatter 
 myself, that if you have made an impression, it's just possibla 
 1 may do so too, espoeially as you h.iven't your guardian'n 
 eon.sent to the marriag*! — aiul what's more, never will have. 
 
 An.vt Never will have! Why? 
 
 Puu:!i'. {lamj/iiiitj) Wliy! 
 
 /kno. {i('itla»uf, hnockiiKj at c. tl)ov) Monsieur Prosper! 
 
 l'i;0SP. {Iaa<iltin(j and puiiitiixj at (four) That's why I But 
 I'il he ort" — I can't show myself to ladies in this trim. 
 
 Zi;xo. {without) May we come in ? 
 
 Pkosp. Come in by all means I Ej U into led room, K. 
 
 Enter Made.moisklle ZKNonii: 0)hI Matiiif.di:, o. door. 
 
 Zkko. {lookiiuj round) Well, where is Monsieur Prosper? 
 
 Pitosr. {fruiii fiin room) I'm here! 1 beg pardon — I was 
 dressed as a wild Iiuliuu : und I should have frightened you 
 into fits. 
 
 Zeno. It is for us to beg pardon. We expected to find 
 Mademoiselle de Iluseville and the gentlemen here : they are 
 coming to inspect your museum. 
 
 Pitosi*. Pray inspect by all means ! {vithorit, r.) 
 
 M.vrir. igoiiui up) What a quantity of pretty things I 
 
 Zlno. {apart /j Anatolk, w/tilst Matiiimh: <« lonkiuif round) 
 You know very well 1 object to your being with Monsieur 
 Prosper— he's a very dangerous ucciuaintance. 
 
 Anat. You won't let me sjjcak to a soul next. Now, it'i 
 Monsieur Prosper— uftw, it's Mademoiselle de Kuseville'-^uow, 
 it'« Mademoiselle Mathihle {chiuph ducn) 
 
 Zk.no (h.) And pretty attention you p.iy to what I say ! 
 but this I tell you — if you can't behave better, back to your 
 tutor, the Abbe lioulet, you go. 
 
 Math. {'L., c/f/////</) Monsieur Anatole— come here! Look, 
 ^lonsieur Anatole I {calling louder) 
 
 Zkno. You'll not stir, {nitu down^ R., und looht over illut* 
 trated boohs) 
 
 Math, incoming down to Anatole) Pretty behaviour! sol 
 am to run after you, am I? Oh, yes! I see — Mademoiselld 
 Zenobie has forbidden you to sjicak to me. {sits, L. C.) 
 
 A«AT. ^c.) But, MadvMuoiselle ^ 
 
 
22 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 Tact ii. 
 
 Hi 
 
 Zeno. Anatole— brln;^ mo a footstool. 
 
 AnAT. Wss, ina'jllU. {/th-/,iH n /ht.stm)!) 
 
 RIatii. (hnr to An'atoi.i.) I foiliid you to give it to her. 
 
 A NAT. [hr'niiiiinj Ihc fiMtltt'onl) \\\\X \ 
 
 Math, (s7* n-iii<i /ar fat) And put it tlioro (lireotly, sir! 
 
 Anat. {h/t'Cceii the two icoincii aith the fuotsloidj But really, 
 I don't know 
 
 Zr.NO. (ii ) AVIiy, you've ,1,'ot tlio foofstoiil 111 yojir liniuls. 
 
 Anat. IIjivo I? ()li, yes ! {h^^kiifj at .Ma run. UK, u-fio brpj 
 voiiiliiit/ at ficr own fret) hut — MadonioiMflle AJjitliiMc askcil 
 mo too. 
 
 AJATIF. (i- ) Oil, if Mjulcinoiscllc /rnol'ie dosires her foot- 
 stool, pray give it to liir. 
 
 (.Xna'iolk tliiriiig the fnUouimj^ Icepa yuiiuj from one to 
 the other) 
 
 Zkno. {tartly) ^'ou are too kiml, niadcnioiscllc. 
 
 Math. It is only due from a girl of my age to a woman of 
 yours. 
 
 ZkNO. {j)\tshi)iq nU'Oif the fn'tstoal irhivh \S MOl.V. i>re8CUtH) 
 The ditiVr(iu(( is not so great that I should deprive you of the 
 footstool, madenioiticlle. 
 
 Anat. {rcJccliiKj thr foof iool which ANAroLii presents) Then 
 pray accept it as n delicjito attention of Monsieur Anatole — 
 Avhich I give up to yon. 
 
 Zi:X(). {(i.,i(/>) Insolent minx I 
 
 Math. (ff.svVA) Take that, my dear ! (rlyett) 
 
 Zkno. {risiiif/, (ijuirt to Anatcm.b) You go back to your 
 tutor's this v(jry evening. 
 
 Math, {(ij xrt to him <>n the other sit/e) (f you answer her one 
 word, I'll never .«<peak to you again in my life. 
 
 (.Vnatoli: 6i!ii tloirn on the footstool in despair) 
 
 Enter I3|{r>'nM<»i;ciH:, c. dnor, in shontiiKj attire, irlth yun — 
 fulhin-itl hi/ MAi)i;.Mui.si;i,i,t. i»k KL^?K villi:. 
 
 Uuisi;. May we come in? 
 
 En'er rKo.si'ri: CoiHtAMONT, dresml, n. door.. 
 
 Pkosi*. lly ail means ! I»y all mtans ! 
 
 >5iz. {eiitvriiaj -to Piiosi'i i:) You fee, sir, I make the most 
 warlike entry, like an enemy armed tr the teeth. Are you 
 prepared to repidn- nic ? 
 
 I'UiJsr. As an Kaster.i Iravi Her, I have hut to nay, " A ray 
 of Mudight liMs the right to entir every where." ijtotre, to her) 
 
 M VTii. And if one isn't a ray of.iniV 
 
 rj{ isi'. [hiticiny to her) The peniime of th© rose iias the 
 •amc privilege. 
 
 Math. (/oa> to Anatoli:) He's a gr».at deal more ^jallant 
 thftn 3' on are. 
 
ACT II-I 
 
 SCRAP f9r PAPER. 
 
 23 
 
 |*K<»sp. Well, wlnt li.'ivc you killed to dayf 
 
 Hi{i.-K, lU'twfiii us all just lUH' <loi; ! 
 
 I'ljosi'. Hut 1 tliou^ht yourlVi<"n.| thf Mnrnu wasamck shot? 
 
 IWmsk. 1)c la (Jl;ii lire? I doii'i ku(»\v what's tlio matter 
 with him this .'it'ternoon. lie was more silent and morose than 
 ever, and missed every bird. I left him with llipliste, who 
 accomiianied us. {coinimj upon As\Vi>\.i: iritfi /lis i/iin hm if fie 
 Citiiic HjHHi a hue) I'oor puss — on her torm Holloa! what artf 
 vou doinii hevf ':" 
 
 /i:no. III! i« f;oinj( back to his tutor's. 
 
 JiKlsK. On that lool-tool? 
 
 Zkno. Tliifi very eveuiiii; — to continue his studies. 
 
 l?i;isi#. Hut. my dear t^irl, I don't sec the neees.sity. 
 
 AsAr. Nor I. {rim a) 
 
 /i;N"». lint I inniht upon it ! (fiocsup) There, go and pack up. 
 
 Anat. I'm iroin;;— I'm goin,:;! (oaufc^ (joitiff, L.) But I'm not 
 
 gone yet. IIan;^'old /I'liol'icI 7''.<7V, i.. t/onr, 
 
 {^VlloaVl'Al tiltim/tui/ ; '/A.SOWn: snilnl ; SiZANNK luliimi 
 
 lur ; lilJlsKMoi I UK sciiUd on i/ican ; Matihi,i>I". f/m'ng 
 
 here find Ihrre) 
 
 S\'7.. Well, I must Pay, the eollct tion of curiosities in this 
 room is most remarkable. 
 
 Pliosf. Ineludin^' the e<dlector? 
 
 Suz. Ehpcciallv the e ^Hector, who sits on nn Amrriean easy 
 chair before a Fletnish tablf eovtrrcd with an Ali^erine tablo 
 cloth, and smokes Turkish tobaeeo in a (Jrrnian pipe — or after 
 a dinner a /n Jtnusr, at which he has talked " sport" in J'.n^^lish, 
 drinks h Chinese bexeraire out of Dresden porcelain, asks for 
 Italian music, and then calls hiniM-lf a Frenchman ! 
 
 Math, {holt/in-/ up a slriiiy of sfu'lh) Oh, what pretty 
 ehells I {eoiniH dmiin) 
 
 Puosr. A present from the Queen of the Cannibal Islan<ls. 
 
 {crosses to c.) 
 
 Zkno. a collar, I 8C3. 
 
 Piio^r. (to ZKNonir: and SrzANNF.) Yes. (to h'umelf) It if 
 really a petticoat ; but I did not like to say so. 
 
 Math, (l-.) Oh. Anatolc! what, is he gone? ((joex up) 
 
 Zkno. Gone, mademoiselle. 
 
 Math, {to I'lm rr.i;) .Manv thanks for your kindncs.', sir. 
 Are you coming, godmamma ? 
 
 Si/.. Ill t'ollow you imnieiliatdy. 
 
 liitisK. {to MAriiii.iii::, who is yomg out, L.) Are you going 
 that way ? 
 
 MatiI. Yefi ; it's the .shortest cut to the chateau. (af<ide) And 
 that's the way Anatide went. I\.rif, L, 
 
 liuisK. rif be otl' too — who kuowB— we may contrive to 
 bring down another dog. 
 
24 
 
 BCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act. It 
 
 1 '*; 
 
 
 Zp.no. {nhout to go out door, c.) Ar« you not coming 
 madeinoisclle? 
 
 Siz. Thank von, Til f.)llow Mathilde. i^ 
 
 BiiisK. Goucl-bye, I'rospcr ! 
 
 Kiity L. c. (foor, preceded hy ZENOniE. 
 
 Srz. {ii'ith hn hnmf on \.. door, as if ready to go) I wish yoa 
 good sport, {to ritnsiM.li) I have the honour, sir, {as Prosper 
 yors up and cloHi'H door, ( ., and hows to her — coming back and 
 Beating himnrlfy \..) to wish you a very good day ! 
 
 Pho.sp. (i{,) Oh, oh. I thonj^ht vou were heating a retreat. 
 
 Suz. (i<.) lieforc givinj^ hattlc'/ It's very clwr you don't 
 know me. Itut, fn-Kt, (h) yuu mean to keep thc/<^ter? 
 
 r);o.sp. I mean to kcop it. 
 
 Sr/. Wi'll then, hefore coming to actual hostilities, suppose 
 wr interchange a few diph)inatic notes, (i,. of tahlc^ R. c.) 
 
 rnoijp. (K, of tithh'f u. c.) A few diplomatic notes, hy all 
 means. {Inilh sotted) 
 
 Suz. Note one— On our side we make an appeal to the 
 honour of our adversary, and simply ask whether he thinks it 
 honest to keep a letter which he has — what shall I say ? 
 
 Pros. Stolen! 
 
 Hi:z. No— we'll he diplomatic, please, and say "annexed.** 
 What has your side to anfiwer? 
 
 Pnrsr. That the letter being addressed to mo was mine. 
 
 Srz. IJut it was never delivered — ergo, it is still ours. 
 
 pRo.sp. Hut you sent it — m/o, it is still mine. 
 
 Srz. Pardon mo, it was never sent. 
 
 PKU.SF'. Par<lon me, it was put into the post — that is — the 
 Flora. The rpiestion is — Does a letter put into the post belong 
 to the sender or the sendee ? 
 
 Srz. To the send-rr. 
 
 Pno.sr. To the scnd-iJf'. 
 
 Srz. Well, let's cut the Gordian knot— to both. 
 
 I'lju.si*. AVhon the rights are equal, posse.ssion decides the 
 claim. I think, madam, we have settled that question. 
 
 Suz. Hum ! Note two — Wc next enquire, what use you 
 intend to make of our handwriting? 
 
 Puosp. My answer to that question has been already 
 categorically given. Let the strictest neutrality be observed ; 
 and, the moment I give up all hopos of Mathilde, PU bid an 
 cteriuil adieu to Madame de la Glaci^re, and burn the letter 
 belbre her eyes. 
 
 Suz. You will do that ? 
 
 Prosp. On my honour 1 And I verily believe I should have 
 done so at once on returning home — of course, without admit* 
 ting the fact— had you not detied me to mortal combat. 
 
 Suz. Well then, I withdraw my challeDge; and you can 
 
ACT II.] 
 
 SCRAP r>P PAPER. 
 
 i^' 
 
 bnm it now. (rmn{/, laurthinrj') Look, hero is A CApitnl fire — 1 
 won't «fty n word to Louise— and you will lose ijothin;; by your 
 good Action 
 
 ruo-i'. {ri/tt'nff, laufff.i'nff) I Itppfyour jtardoii — I hhuuld l«i*o tliO 
 intense sjitisfaction ol" Hcj'iii;^ you hunt lor the Ictttr in viiin. 
 
 Sr/. Ih tliiit your iiltinuiluin? 
 
 I'hosw. Mv ultlMiriti.HHinunn — Search, scftrch 1 I shan't pre- 
 vent you. 'ihe letter is here -honiewheie I 
 
 Si /. In thiH very roi ni ? 
 
 I'ltosp. (Jr el.sc in the other! First oateh your haro, and 
 then you nuiy cook hiu), yourself, at any tin; you plea-^e. 
 
 Si/. No no, I hhall not be.satihticd till 1 have made \uu hum 
 it with your own hanils. 
 
 I'lto}*!'. Indeed! Then, I ;;ivo you my word ot* honour, if 
 yii eontriv(« to do tint. I will pick niystlt' otV this vt-ry 
 evoiiiii^ to look out t'ur a wile in the Caunihal Ibland^i, Jeiieho, 
 or Hiiywhero you please. 
 
 Irftz. Vour word of honour? 
 
 riu).-"*!*. My Word of hoiioiu- ! 
 
 Si z. Beware! 1 am obstinato. 
 
 rito.^i'. So am L 
 
 Si z. 1 am ^'oinj^ to sit down to a re^^ular nfei^e— T shall lior« 
 you until you .siy yourxlt*, " I had Inttcr burn the htii-r and 
 gi't rid of that nui.'>anee of a woman! " 
 
 I'lio.sp, Never was criminal tlneattticil with ko nlluriiu' a 
 ruiii>hm('nt ! I'm enraptured to think of tin- many pha.-.int 
 lii'ius we are about to pas.^ in a loui; delii-ioiis tilr u h'lc -\ am 
 furry to he oblimd to leave you a hhort time — I have an 
 indi^^pi-nsable visit to pay to a tiri'soun* old uncle; but pray 
 iniisidcr voursclf pcrtectly at houu». 'riitrr's a go(j<l lire -- 
 plenty ot books and drawings for ynur amu-cmi-nt - all my 
 curiosities, and nri.^enuMtcdie'.'* entom(do,nieal treasures — Kvcry- 
 tliini,' i.s open I'or yoin* inspection -exicpt thi^ litih" ea>ket, 
 which contains papers that c'lnnot jtossibly iutert'st you Open 
 (verythinj; else — turn everything top^y turvy and I hope, oii 
 my return, to have the happy privi'ege of renewing this most 
 agreeable conversation. 
 
 E.I it, r, <A>rtr. 
 
 ^V'/.. He's actually ;^one ! Ilaii^ tl*' man, his im|iirtinence 
 is pert'eetly deliLjhtlid. [iiiiihiliinj " Sean h, search- -every- 
 thing,' is open I'or your inspection — ('veryihin^ but this casket." 
 My dear sir, tin- stress you lav upon th»' casket convinced mu 
 tliat the letter is not there — fhit it m here — " xonu'where " — 
 AN here can he have coiu-ealed it? iknockiiKj, L. dn'ir Has ho 
 returned y no — it is at this litth; door leatlin^ down into the 
 
 }Kirk. {htujch'itxj (uja'm) Who can it beV I don't wiint to be 
 uuitd in a strange gentluumn's room — Ono'tt never t(H> ulJ 
 
 ni9niP>iM<i>>Mi 
 
"^ 
 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
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 4s 
 
 ^9) 
 
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 6^ 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 
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26 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act 11. 
 
 for scandal — a pretty mess I've let myself into— that coraei 
 of meddling with other people's affairs, {knocking again) 
 
 Suzanne oikus l. door — Louise looks in — she loeara a remark 
 able Indian shawl over her head, 
 
 Louise, (l.) You are alone— are you not? 
 
 Suz. (r.) Louise ! 
 
 Louise, (coming in and closing tM door behind her hastily) \ 
 8aw him ride by the windows of the cliateau — You did not 
 return ; and my impatience was so great, that I hastily threw 
 on this sliawl and came myself, {crosses to K., and puts shawl 
 on chair, next fire) 
 
 Suz. What imprudence ! If your husband had seen you, or 
 that dear, deliglitful, censorious Mademoiselle Zcnobie 
 
 Louise. What matter, since we were both together— Have 
 you got it ? 
 
 Suz. The letter? No — he refuses to give it up. 
 
 Louise. He must have left it here. Find it — find it, 1 
 entreat you I I am so terrified — I scarce dare raise my eyes to 
 look into my husband's face — I fancy he suspects — knowi 
 everything. 
 
 Suz. AVhat if he does know everything? You say the whole 
 affair was only a most innocent little flirtation. 
 
 Louise. Of course it was — I was a thoughtless, romantic 
 girl at the time, and saw no wrong; but my husband, under 
 that semblance of apathy, conceals a highly sensitive nature. 
 The bare suspioicn of any previous attachment, even of the 
 slightest flirta*^ion, would wound that nature to the quick — The 
 discovery of this letter might rouse all his Jealous suscepti- 
 bilities, and compromise our domestic happiness for ever. 
 
 Suz. {seated) Ah, my 'poor dear friend, what a warning you 
 give to silly girls 
 
 Louise Not to write letters ! Oh, yes — girls should -never 
 write ! i# 
 
 Suz. They should rather beware of fostering absurd ideas, 
 and fancying themselves in love. 
 
 Louise. But don't let us lose any time — let us hunt about. 
 (170^5 vp) 
 
 Suz. (seated) That's the very thing I'm now doing. 
 
 IjOUISE. Doing ! seated there ! 
 
 Suz. Yes, in my lioad- that's my way of hunting, {the 
 Baroness is turning over ho< ks, /xipcr.'t, d'c, 0/4 Ae table, L. C.) 
 But do you go your own way to work. 
 
 Louise. Oh, you ])ut me out of all my patience! 
 
 Suz. {cnolly) My (h'ar child, nature made woman weak, but 
 gave as compensation a sixth sense. Have you ever examined 
 any butterflies ? 
 
ACT II.] 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPEB. 
 
 27 
 
 Louisi:. Wli<at an abpurd quest ion ? 
 
 Srz. ({/'^'ifj to tiihlr, L. c, and tnking vp a ease of hntlerjlus) 
 TIh\v have '^o{ lung, thin horns upon tlicir licads to eiiablf 
 tlicm to feel and {i])prociate objects at a distance. Look ! 
 
 hoi'i.-^E. What do you mean? 
 
 8i"Z. The naturalists call them " antenna-.'' Well, my dea.\ 
 wuinen too iiave "antennie," but of bo delicate a nature that 
 they are invisible. Sometimes they are made like tendrils, to 
 entangle jur natural enemy, man ; — sometimes tiiey are sharp 
 and j)ointed, just to blind them, my dcat*. 
 
 LoiiSK. (tttriiuH/ tiicaif jicUUlihj) And you want to find my 
 letter with your " antennge" — a likely idea! I'd rather trust 
 to my ten fingers, [gi^es on opcuiiifi all the drnurr.'^, dr.) 
 
 Srz. You shall see how I will use my '' antennie." Yes, 
 yes ; open all the drawees — hunt away. Just see if you can't 
 liud your letter in the guitar case. What a child you are ! 
 
 LotiisK. He may have hid it among the books. 
 
 SL'7i. And you mean to look among all the three hundred 
 Volume* — out of the question ! look at the edges of the shoives. 
 
 I-uriSK. Why? 
 
 Suii. Are they dusty? 
 
 Loi'isK. {(/rftiiifj oif a chair) Yes. 
 
 Sfst. All along? 
 
 I^>uisi-:. All along. 
 
 Slz. Then it's not among the books. If he had pulled one 
 down, the dust would Imve been disturbed. 
 
 LouisK. To be sure. 
 
 Srz. Just look at that little bit of paper folded together, 
 and put to steady the leg of the table. 
 
 Louise. This? 
 
 Suz. Yes : (getting up) it's not worth the trouble, the paper 
 is black and worn. 
 
 LouisR. Yes : and he would never have put it there, where 
 everybody can see it. {she continues to hunt about) 
 
 Scz. It's very clear you don't know how to use your 
 " antennse" — Y'our knowing man would be sure to make t j 
 little concealment of an object he wished to hide, that nobody 
 would be likely to look fur it in a jilaee so open to iiisi)ection. 
 I'll wager now, that if we can't find this unfortunate letter, it 
 is because it is lying about somewhere before our very eyes. 
 
 Louise, {wlio has been hunting about, u.) Nothing— iu)thing! 
 but there's another room here 
 
 Suz. Go in, by all means. My light of search is unlimiied. 
 though ? No matter; you will give the alarm. Krif info rount, n. 
 
 Louise (opening the door, h.) If he should c .me back, 
 
 ^v 7.. (loohing around her) W^here can it be? Wc^^ clcvi r 
 •nougU to have put it aimply uuder his letter- wei- lit. (lifts up 
 
28 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [a/:!tii 
 
 letter-press) No! — in this vase? Nothing but visiting cards, 
 and a stick of sealing-wax. In this Jar ? {opens the tobacco-jar) 
 T(jbacco — cigarette-papers — several letters crumpled and torn. 
 {rfddhuj .fiqicrscnplioii. of letter) " Monsieur Prosper Coura- 
 niont, to the care of Mahony IJrothers, Madrid." "Monsieur 
 Prosper Couramont, Alljany, London." — " Try Post-ofTice, 
 Paris." (fjoeji on vith several of/mr letters, vhich she parses, 
 as she sjicctks, from her ricjht hand to her left) " Monsieur 
 I*rosper Couramont, — to the care of the Reverend Mr. 
 Iluggins, Sandwich Islands!" " Monsieur Prosper Coura- 
 mont," {stops^ and takes up last letter) Stop ! this letter has 
 
 seen a good deal of the workl. It must have l)een a very pre- 
 cious letter for him to have brought it all the way from the 
 Sandwich Islands, and kept it so long; {weif/hing it in her 
 hands) and yet it's very light. There's only the veriest scrap 
 of paper in it. Now who, 1 sliould like to know, would have 
 sent a letter all the way to the Sandwich Islands, costing no 
 end of postage-money, wdiich cannot contain much more t\\m 
 " How do you do ?" — " Very well, I thank you." It's very 
 odd — very ! (callinrj) Louise ! 
 
 LouiSK. {in tlie room, R.) I can't iind it I 
 
 Suz. Louise, was the letter large V 
 
 Louise, {within) No ; only half a sheet of note-paper foiled 
 in two. 
 
 Suz. (feeling the enrelope) A half-sheet of note-paper tbldied 
 in two. (alond) On white paper ? 
 
 Louise, {as before) No ; pink. 
 
 Suz. {holding the envelope up to the light) It i8 pink! 
 
 Louise, {as before) I've found a ([uantity of papers. 
 
 Suz. Have you, dear?— all right! {smelling the envelope 
 'Tis an old scrap of paper ; all the perfume is gone ; {holding 
 uj) (he envelope again) if I could but see the writing, {about to 
 open the envelope) He gave me permission to search everything 
 that was open, and this envelope is open, {checking herself) 
 Stop, stop ! it's not quite the thing. One isn't in the habit of 
 opening other people's letters (feeling the envelope) And yet, if 
 it xrere Louise's letter. Oh ! my Hngers burn — my fingers 
 burn 1 
 
 Enter Louise, r. 
 
 Louise, {crying with vexation) Oli, my dear Suzanne, I give 
 it up ! We shall n.^cr iiiid it now — we shall never find it now ! 
 
 Si;/. 1 can't bear it any loiii^er — I can't see her cry. {opens 
 eut-elope and takes oiU paper, which she hands to LouiSE) Is youi 
 letter anything like that ? 
 
 Louisl:. {opening the paper) 'Tis the letter itself ! 
 
 Suz. {bursting out laughing) What do you Si^y tO mj 
 ♦'antwui»" now, my dear ? 
 
[A/:TIi I ACTII.] 
 
 nO^Af OV M^ER. 
 
 20 
 
 LoiTSE. Oh, VM — it's the same — {reading) "1 am oltliged to 
 
 leave home by daybreak ; but far or near " Could 1 have 
 
 written such words? Fool that I was! and shuuld my 
 LiisliiUid ever know ! {violent knockinff^ L. door) 
 
 ^rz. Home one knocks ! 
 
 LouiSL. It was there— there ! 
 
 r.AitON. {ivMoiif, L.) Open tlie door! 
 
 t^i/. Your husband! Oive me the letter. {tn(iU}ie4 tt) 
 
 Luri.-iK. (ji(.»od heavens! where shall 1 hide? 
 
 Si'Z. {lo7V — !/olii(/ lo open die doar) Don't think of iiiding— 
 itjiy where you are. 
 
 J.nLi.S!:. Xo, no — he would see my agitation. {riDis t ' door, 
 B.— Ha HON contiiities to liioc/c) 
 
 Srz, {L'nv, her hand on lock of door, L.) No — stop, I tell you! 
 (LouiSH eitkrs room, R. — tcith vexalion) Oh, fooli.sh woman I 
 {she opens the door, L.) 
 
 Enter Baron, l. door, in shooliny dress, widi his fjim. 
 
 Baron, {l., s7ir2V'isrd) You! 
 
 Suz. (u., calm and smilimj) Yes — 1 1 AVhat an uproar you 
 have been making I 
 
 Ha RON. Here? 
 
 Siz. In this museum. I'm looking at all tlie curiosities. 
 
 15AR0N. {looHng round him) Alone ? 
 
 buz. You see {sits at table and exandncs a draircr full 
 
 of shells) "What a wonderful collection of sJiells to be sure- 
 only look ! 
 
 Baron, {jmlting doicn his gun, l.) I'ut I lieard talking. 
 
 Suz. I was trying to pronounce these dreadful words aloud. 
 AVliy u:ill scientific men give sudi preposterous names to 
 things? Oh, look — isn't tliat pretty ? 
 
 Baron. You were not alone — Louise was here. 
 
 Sl'Z. What should she be doing here? 
 
 Baron. Something she was ajjhamed of apparently, since 
 she made her escape. 
 
 Suz. {laughing, still loolcing oi tlie shells) Ila, ha, ha! djud 
 this lit often seize you, cousin? 
 
 Baron. She was here, 1 say I 
 
 Su/. And if she was, why shouldn't she be here still* Do 
 you tliink she has hidden herself under the table? 
 
 Baron, {roughly, looking her full in the face) Then why 
 (Hdn't you open the door immediately? 
 
 Suz. {not at all disconcerted) Because I thouglit the knocking 
 was at the other door — and I opened that first. 
 
 Baron. In order that Louise migiit get away. TIi.u's the 
 w»v eshe went, then ? {goes tip to c. door) 
 
 ^uz. What a tiresome old bear ^u are ! If T.diiisy wout 
 
 n 
 
 M 
 
80 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPEK. 
 
 [act II, 
 
 that way, go and look after her; and leave me to examine the 
 shells. 
 
 Baron, (r., comwff down) My wife was stvani^cly a.;itatcd 
 this morning, after her conversation with Monsieur A\'liat',s- 
 his-name — whom she knew before her iiiaiTiH;^e — more still, 
 during that little affair about the statuette — what did that mean? 
 
 Suz. {coming down — looking at shells) Perhaps she was 
 afraid he would drop it. 
 
 Baron. {fjeUiny more and more angrij) The man made an 
 offer of marriage for Mathilde, witiiout ever having seen her— 
 a mere pretext, it is very clear, to get into the house, and see 
 my Avife — a got-up plan to divert my pusjiicions ! {seizing hohl 
 q/" Suzanne) Look me in the face, and tell me it was not so, 
 if you can. 
 
 Suz. It's as clear as noon-day— only let go my hand, please, 
 for you hurt me: and a pretty mess you have made of the ponr 
 shells, {opens her hand — shoivs the shells in poicder) You really 
 don't know how to behave yoin'self. 
 
 Baron. Listen: I left Brisemouche out shooting to return 
 home — 1 enquired for my wife — She was gone out ; but 1 had 
 her spaniel, Fidele, with me; and he has tracked her to this 
 house — to the foot of tliat stair: I tell you my wife is here! 
 Where is she, I say ? Where is she ? 
 
 Suz. What do you ask me for? Since you've taken to 
 hunting your wife, as they hunt Negroes, whistle for Fidele, 
 my dear sir — whistle for Fidele. 
 
 Baron. Suzanne, you trifle with my feelings ! 
 
 Suz. Trifle with your feelings! JSo — 1 wish to spare them. 
 If I laugh at you, it is to show how senseless is your conduct. 
 Come — come — calm yourself, and try to be a little reasonable. 
 
 Baron. You are right — you are right to jeer m^ — my 
 jealousy blinds me — it drives me mad! \\ makes me utterly 
 miserable ! {throws himself into a chair, L. of table, R. C.) 
 
 Suz. Look up, my poor friend ! Now, how can you ruin all 
 your liappiness thus, when you have a charming wife who 
 thinks of nobody but you — lives for nobody but you? 
 
 Baron. I know it, Suzanne — I know it — and I am calm 
 now — quite calm — but should anything again ever cause me to 
 
 suspect {seeing Louise's shawl, and darting on it) My 
 
 wife's shawl ! Ah ! you see she has been here 1 {rises) 
 
 Suz. Well— what of the shawl? 
 
 Baron. Who put it there? * 
 
 Suz. 1 did — I took up the first that came to iiand. 
 
 Baron. I don't believe you. Mv wife's shawl is here— then 
 she's not gone — she's still concealed here — and I swesw tWi if 
 [ tind her {crosses to L., to take up his gun) 
 
 iSuz. — Baron 1 Baron I I bear of you— 
 
[act II, I ICTU.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 81 
 
 examine the 
 
 ,'oly a.,'itatcd 
 i^'ur A\'iiatV 
 —more stil!, 
 '1 that mean? 
 ips she was 
 
 :ni made an 
 ^ ■seen her— 
 ii.^o, and see 
 
 ^va.s not so, 
 
 land, please, 
 i ot" the pour 
 You really 
 
 ng to retin-n 
 
 ; hut 1 had 
 
 '■ hvv to this 
 
 •vite is Ikti"! 
 
 ^e taken to 
 for FidMe, 
 
 spare them. 
 'ur conduct. 
 
 reasonable. 
 !r mK. — my 
 
 me utterly 
 t. c.) 
 
 you ruin all 
 f -vvife who 
 
 I am calm 
 jause me to 
 on it) My 
 es) 
 
 lere- then 
 rear iWi if 
 
 Baron, {i^cnrchivg^in i^pite nfher) Leave mc I 
 
 Sl'Z. {tnjivfj to stop him) Hear me! iicarine! 
 
 liAKON, {Jindimi the floor, u.) Ah! there'.s a door here! 
 (St'/'ANNE spriufjii between him and the door) She is concealed 
 in that man's room. Ijct me go — by heaven, I'll have his 
 life! {menacing with his (/an) 
 
 Suz. For my .sake 
 
 Baron. For your sake? 
 
 Suz. (with feverish halite, an if regardkss of vhat she is saging) 
 yes — for mine! you drive me to this confession by your 
 violence. What! where you so blind? Did not my embarass- 
 ment — my agitation — at once reveal tk^ truth? I didn't open 
 the door at once, 'tis true, because I was afraid of beinj; found 
 here. Your dog evidently recognized your wife's shawl which 
 I wore. Don't you see? Louise refused her sister's hand to 
 Prosper, because she knew 1 loved liim years ago — don't you 
 see? Prosper imagined I had deceived him, and so wanted to 
 marry another, in order to revenge himself on me — don't you 
 see? When Louise spoke low to him, it was to justify me, 
 and prevent this detested marriage, which I was resolved never 
 should take place — don't you see? don't you see? 
 
 Baron, (l.) Yes, yes, I remember now. He spoke this 
 morning of some heartless treachery on the part of a woman. 
 
 Suz. He meant me — I was the heartless treachery 1 {sighing) 
 But it was all a mistake — a misundei'standing. 
 
 Baron. Why not tell mc this at once? 
 
 Suz. Can you a.sk the question? What woman would 
 willingly confess the weakness of her heart ? And then you 
 were so violent, and made such an awful noise — you don't 
 know what a noise you do make. And I was so frightened, 
 and — so out it came — 1 don't know how — and— don't you see? 
 don't you see? {aside) I don't kmow what on earth I am 
 talking about. 
 
 Baron. Be calm, mv dear Suzanne — no one shall ever learn 
 this secret from me. But I'll not allow this man to trille with 
 your feelings in this manner — I'll see him at once. 
 
 Suz. See him — what for ? 
 
 Baron. Wiiat for? AVhy, to tell him I know the state of 
 of aftairs between you, make him withdraw his' pretensions to 
 the hand of Mathikle, and — and .^ 
 
 Suz. And what ? 
 
 Baron. What? why marry you to be sure! 
 
 Suz. {aside) Good heavens ! I didn't take that into my 
 reckoning. 
 
 Baron. Yes, yes ; I'll see the fellow — speak out my mind 
 ftt once. 
 
 Buz. W^bat are you thinking of, my dear friend ? Let me 
 
32 
 
 eCRAP 01' PAPER. 
 
 [ACT II. 
 
 I ! 
 
 Bee liim first — endeavour to lure lum back myself. You would 
 not deprive a woman of her dearest privilege — would you, 
 cousin ? ( 
 
 Bakon. As yoti will. (.v^V/ "" ''''''^' vnlulillfi/, spite of the 
 efforts of SuzANNi-: to fipeah Marry you he shall — dead or 
 alive 1 I won't have him play fast and loose with cousin 
 Suzanne — that I won't. I owe, lim a grud,i:;e for making me 
 suspect Louise — my own dear good Louise. [l>urstsout laughing) 
 Good heavens ! what a fool man makes of himself sometimes ! 
 But he shall pay for it — he shall marry you as a punishment — 
 no, 1 don't mean that — but marry you he shall ! {taking up his 
 gun) Now, then, to bring down my man ! amicably — I mean 
 amicably! {patting his gun) Old trusty, here is for the 
 partridges — so ho, Fidele ! and oil' we go ! 
 
 Suz. {aside) Now the popular opinion is, that man can't talk. 
 
 Baron, {turning at dour, l.) Not a word to Louise ! 
 
 Suz. She shall not know more about the aft'air than she 
 knows at this moment — 1 give you my Avord. 
 
 Baron. I would not have her know for the world. 
 
 Exit, L, door. 
 
 Re-enter Louisi:, u. door. 
 
 Louise, {thriving herself into the arms of Suzanne) Oh, 
 Suzanne, my dear, kind friend, blessings on you — you have 
 laved me ! 
 
 Suz. Yes, but I've lost myself ! 
 
 LouiSK. What do you mean ? 
 
 Suz. Simply : that he Avants me to marry this man. You 
 know that will never do — 1 should inevitably have to play 
 the "Bride of Lammermoor" with him and linish him off on 
 the wedding-eve. 
 
 Louise. But think — should my husliand see him and speak 
 to him, all might still come out. lie nnist go away at once. 
 
 Suz. Go he shall ! Bui, now, be otVyourselt'! Your husband 
 might return home : and you nmst be there before him. 
 
 Louise. But I should like to see that letter burnt, {crosses 
 
 tOL.) 
 
 Suz. Don't lose a moment, I entreat you ! 
 
 Louise, {t/dcing up her nhawl) But should I be seen 
 
 Suz. {opening door. Q.) Go this way — the eoast is clear. 
 
 Louise. I will. # 
 
 Suz. (seizing hej' s/uurl) But leave your shawl, silly creature. 
 
 Louise, {throwing it to Susaxni^j Yes, of course. I shall 
 fly home like a bird : my heart is Ughter now. Exit, c, door. 
 
 Suz. {taking the letter out of her pocket) It's no sueh dithcult 
 matter to burn the letter. But how to get him to go is quite 
 Another affair : he won't budge if he can help it. (looking at 
 
ACT II.] 
 
 8CRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 88 
 
 the dock) There is still time for liini to pack up and f?et off by 
 the nine o'clock train. Uhr hfrjiuH criiiiij>li»;/ t/ir htUr in order 
 to tlirom it into the fin) If I could but contrive to ^et liiin away I 
 {ju.<( ah'int to pitf the letter into the Jxri) No — not the I'nvclope— 
 1 have no ri^rht to that, ■■shi' tnkeji the jMiprr out of tne envelope) 
 ]}iit I must put .*nmofhinij in the place of our precioi's prize — 
 any scrap of jiapor will do. f.s7/^ ttikcs np a jn'ecu; of pajx-r from, 
 1l,i ifib!i', f(>!(fs if. find jtnfs it in the enrelopr) And no',v wo'll return 
 " Monsieur the Kcv. Mr. Ilugirins" t<» the Sandwidi Islands, 
 in the midst of the tobacco. Everything back to its place. 
 :^.she p/its back info thejnr the letters, dc., .she hod j)reriini.'<l>/ ta/.eii 
 lut of it, stirs them vp, nh'd.-es the jar and sets it (hnrn in its place) 
 There — now for the fatal bilht dou.if {approaches the f replace) 
 Tis a i^reat pity — fori had such a fancy [litihting the paper) 
 for making him burn it himself, (j^ofl'iif/ back the jiaper, which 
 is idiyht, and blun-liKj it ont) Burn it himself -yes ! what was 
 it he awore? "J give you my word of honour, that if vou 
 manage to make me burn the letter njyscdf I will jiack myself otf 
 this very erening W louk out for a wife in the Cannibal Islands 
 — or Jericho — or whare vou will." lie gave me his word of 
 honour — He's an oddity; but he would keep his word, I am sure 
 he would — I like the looks of him. Would it be then such 
 a very difficult ta«k to make liiui burn the letter ? Let's sec — 
 let's s«« — (*//(S I'joks into ihefinpfac) suppose I place it on the 
 hearth, near the fire, (she ticii>ts the jiaper 7ip) That's it — it 
 looks exactly as if he had already lighted a cigar with it. {she 
 conies auxuj from the f re and loot's aronnd) It's really gc^ttinj; 
 ([uite exciting ! How it would avnuse me to make him burn it 
 himself! {listening) Some one is coming up stairs. It's he 
 probably. Oh — there mustn't be matches about ! {hastily 
 throws the maiches into thejire) That will do. (she sits down in 
 arm chair, h. affable — a gentle knock, c. door) Oh, yes — knock 
 away ! I'm not going to hear you. 
 
 Enter VaosvEii, quietly, c. door — he looks round for Suzanne, and 
 seeing her lying back in the arm diair approaches her on tiptoe. 
 
 Pr(3SP. Asleep ! overcome with fj^tigue and utterly dis- 
 couraged, {looking round him) She has been turning every- 
 tldng topsy-turvey. {loi)ks into n am, i!., and kmghs) Yes, and 
 there too ! Now for tlie letter ! Can she have found it ? 
 (Suzanne /b//ou".v him v-ith the corners of her eyes, ichile he opens 
 the tobacco jar andseex the enrclope) No, all safe — Come, woman's 
 cunning; 'i s been baffled for once, {sits down l. of table and 
 looks at Slzanxe) I am sorry for her {looking r.iore nearly) 
 she is really a very nice woman — pretty hand —good eyes too 
 — I really must liave another look at her eyes, {getting up and 
 bending ovtr hn) 
 
 
34 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 [ACT Tl. 
 
 I. 
 
 Suz. (opening her eyes wide, and looJcinr/ at him) What did 
 you say ? 
 
 Pkosp. {stcif/f/ering hack) Knocked clean over ! 
 
 Suz. {2>reteiidlnf/ to awake) Ohl I beg your pardon, I believe 
 I must have dropped asleep. 
 
 Puorfi'. Pray consider yourself at home. 
 
 Suz. (riunf/) Wliat o'clock is it ? 
 
 Pkosi'. (goiiif/ to the dock on the mantel-piece) Past six. 
 
 vSuz. So late 1 Well, I can't help it— I won't give up my 
 purpose ; and here I shall remain at my post, till that purpose 
 IS accomplished. 
 
 Pk(jsi'. Allow me to admire your obstinacy — It is the most 
 heroic piece of chivalry I have ever seen. 
 
 Suz. Obstinacv I you are not gallant. 
 
 Puosr. Well, let us say iirmness. 
 
 Suz. Yes : firmness in a woman — obstinacy in a man. 
 
 Phosp. Now, take care, you are pitting yourself against a 
 man who has fought with Ked Indians, and won his tomahawk 
 on the field. I liave been dubbed a great chi«f myself, aiid it 
 would be no mian glory to carry off my scalp, {ii gels graduulhj 
 diisk) 
 
 Suz. But, great chief, spite of tho intern* »atiafaction I 
 should naturally have in scalping you, I Uat« better motiveij 
 than the desire of obtaining such quttstioiiabli glory. But 
 please light yuur lamp — it is getting quite dark. 
 
 Puosi'. Immediately, [takes off the glohe of the lamp on the 
 table and look/i at it) There ! that fool of a servant has put no 
 wick in the lamp, (he rings) 
 
 Suz. Then ligiit a caiulle— it will be much handier. 
 
 Prosp. You are right, {hunting about for matches) Of course, 
 there may exist women who — now there's not a match to be 
 found anywhere. 
 
 Suz. Then take a piece of paper, my dear sir. 
 
 Puosp. {seeing the inece of paper on the hearth) Ah I this 
 will do. {yicks up paper) There mny exist women, certainly, 
 
 who are so far traitors to their nature as to {he lights the 
 
 IKqjer) 
 
 Enter Fi?ancois, c. door, with a lighted lainp. 
 
 Fran. Did you ring for the lamp, sir? 
 
 Pro??p. (Jblotriiig out the paper and still holding it in his hand) 
 Yes— that will do — put it down there. 
 
 Suz. {aside) Was ever anything so provoking ! Anothei 
 miimte, and he would have done it. (Francois has ^ut tlie lamp 
 on the tabic, r. c, and exit, C. door) 
 
 Pros. As 1 said, there may be women who — in short — upon 
 my word, I don't know, now, what I was going to say. 
 
ACT II.] 
 
 SCRAP OP TAPER. 
 
 35 
 
 Suz. You worn going to say, probiibly, thai there may be 
 women who wouUT do and eacritice much for the peace of 
 aiiiul of a friend. 
 
 I'KD.sr. [>i>'atcd l. of table, holdhir/ the piper) A friend ! a 
 iViciid ! Have women female friends? {muie) She loolca bet- 
 ter still by lamp-light, 
 
 Suz. You don't bolive in friendship, 
 
 ruosr. In that respect I have not a much better opmion of 
 our cwn sex than of yours, {aside) I can't help being fascinated 
 liv her more and more, 
 
 SUZ. {taking the envelope and false Vtferfrnni the jar meehani- 
 e illij and jdai/in;/ vilh it irhile I'ltosriMt .sh'/n's hin (Kjitatinii) 
 Come, that's something. You iiave gonerally .so marvelluiis an 
 opinion of your own superiority, 
 
 I'kosf. llnur/hiiif/ at t<eein(i the letter in he>' hand and .dialimj 
 the paper he holdi<) We certainly sometimes t'ancv we sic more 
 clcaily than your sex, {hnnjhing — a^idi) ^^ho little kiious she's 
 t;ot the letter, {(duiid) NN'ell, it' I be an egotist, I have never 
 tnund out after a life's experience, what I gained by doing 
 -uod to others. 
 
 iSrz, {Ihron-iiig hack the envdope into the Jar) (Jaincd !— the 
 pleasure of (hjing it. Does that count for nothing? Ah! if 
 y lu knew how bright the world wouhl look to \(»u niuler eon- 
 B inusness of having done good — if you knew with how light a 
 heart you would sleep at night-- with how cheery a spirit you 
 would raise your head from your pillow in the morning, you 
 would never ask again, what you would gain, 
 
 Puosi'. {snrj>r.'fi(d and pleased) Perhaps — 1 don't know. 
 
 i^i'/j. J'^xactly. You don''t know. 
 
 Puo.si'. {a.-iidc) What a smile the woman has ! and what a 
 heart ! lets fall the letter on the carpet) 
 
 Sl'Z, {aside) Suppose I put out the lamp ; he must light it 
 again, she her/ins taming die lamp up and dutcn) 
 
 Pi{()^^p, (('•//// enthNsias.;i) Ah, my dear madam, if it were 
 true — Does the lamp smoke? 
 
 Srz, It does a little. {/)nts it < uJ) There— Pvc put it out. 
 
 Piio.sp, {aside) So much the better, {aloud) Ah, if it were 
 true that your heart alone jirompted you to give me battle, my 
 admiration for your courage wotdd give [)lace to a far warmer 
 feeling. I don t exactly know wh}-, but it is a fact, of all 
 the women I have ever seen you are the only woman who is a 
 real woman. 
 
 Suz. A very prctry declaration, upon my word — owlya little 
 obscure. Perhaps it Avoidd be dearer if you ligiited yoiu' lamp. 
 
 Pkosp, {approaching her) Ah, the fitful flicker of the cosy 
 fire on the hearth is better suited to what I would say. 
 
 Suz. Light the lamp, sir ! or you'll force me to go at once. 
 
i6 
 
 SCnAP OF PAVEB, 
 
 [ACT a 
 
 Prosp. But I've got no matchcc 
 8uz. Will you light the l.imp, sir? 
 Prosp. I ffecluro to you- 
 
 Suz. I'll hear no declaration till you light the lamp. 
 
 Puofp. 1 dare say you think I am mad ! I am not. Perhnps 
 it was the jnost sensible thing I could do to fall in love with 
 the goddaughter this morning, and the godmother this evening. 
 
 Suz. Well then, since you drive me away, sir. {going «^;) 
 
 Puosi". Don't go — don't go —don't leave your purpose un- 
 accomplished. You have made me believe in the existence of 
 a woman's heart that can beat with kindliness and purity. Ltt 
 Ino prove myself worthy of that heart. See I — ^liere is the, 
 letter! {tahcs envelope from jar) I yield — 1 burn it before your 
 Own eyes, {throws the envelope into the fire) 
 
 Suz. (aside) Now I could positively hug the man for that ! 
 
 Prosp. taking \tp the burning envelope with the tongs) Look, 
 hiadam, it burns — it burns. 
 
 Suz. I haven't the heart to send him away now. I must 
 confess all. 
 
 Prosp. Shall I lay down the ashes at your feet ? 
 
 Suz. {laughing) Are you quite sure you have burned the riglit 
 thing? 
 
 Prosp. Can you doubt? 
 
 Suz. Your good faith? — oh, no I IJut pick up that little 
 •crap ot paper you had in your hand just now. 
 
 Prosp. {hunting on the carpet) That little scrap of paper I 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 Suz. {pointing it out laughing) There it is ! 
 
 Prosp. {picking it up tcith surprise) Well, and what then? 
 
 Suz. {listening) Hush ! what's that 1 liear ? 
 
 Prosp. {going to window) The barking of dogs ! (looks out) 
 Brisemouche and the Baron are coming towards the house. 
 
 Suz. And they may come up stairs ! Give me that scrap of 
 paper, quick ! > 
 
 Prosp. This darkness is ratlier awkward — I understand 
 Pll light the candle at once, he lights the paper) 
 
 Baron, {without, beneath the window) Here, Fidcle ! 
 
 Suz. {aside) It wos fated that he should burn the paper after 
 all! (Prosper lights Oie candle u-ith the burning paper, and 
 throws it out of the window) Oh, what have you done ? 
 
 Baron, {as before) Holloa ! Do you mean to set the houso 
 on fire ? 
 
 Prosp. {at loindow looking out) Some one is picking it up ! 
 
 Suz. The Baron ! Oh, Ave're lost I 
 
 Prosp. What do you mean ? 
 
 Suz. That was the vary letter ! 
 
 Prosp. {bewildered) That 8«rap of paper — Uie letter? 
 
[ACT n, I ACT III.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 37 
 
 Si'Z. Tlio very It'ltor ! Kun !— quick I— get it Imck ! Why 
 don't yon run ? 
 
 I'liosi'. {losing/ hii head, and nmniiif/ to Vic window) I am 
 running ! 
 
 \>\:7.. Not l»y the winihjw, innn — by the door ! 
 
 I'kosp. {running to door, L.) Vcs, to be sure! 
 
 Slz. Not th;it way ! 
 
 l'l{o^*P. No, no, of course not ! {ruim to door, C, throwing 
 doicn (df the fartiitiirr in hi.f innj) 
 
 Siz. Vou'll lind nie at the cliatoau in the conservatory ! 
 
 Pkosp. rii have it, dead or aUve ! Huns out c. door. 
 
 Suz. That comes of being too clever by half! 
 
 )y nail 
 Exit^ n 
 
 iipidly, L. door. 
 
 BND OF THE SECOND ACf. 
 
 ACT III* 
 
 Scene. — A Com^ervotnrn ollachrd to the Chafmn — t. r., snrral 
 spreading erotic jihiiif.^, adranclng in a dump on the stage — > 
 L. 2 K., door leading to interior — same .side, table and eaaif 
 chfurs ; behind, the gkKcd ptrtion of- the conserratorg, lined 
 with climbing jtlanf.s — ('., the entrance door upon the park — 
 K., tabs of plaiits, with a bench, <('r. — H. 2 i:., the dining-room 
 door — the scene is lighted with standing lamps and hanging 
 Chinese lanthorns. 
 
 Madame DrroxT, l., is t'dclng fruit from a basket, which she 
 places in a tray, and hands over to 1'auline. 
 
 Mad. D. There, you liavc the fruit. Exit Paulink. *»; 2 l. 
 
 Enter Baptiste, l. 
 
 So you are back from accompanying tlic Baron out sliootini^. 
 
 Bap. Yes; I've just liail. time to make mycfelf gonteel. 
 The gentlemen will bo here dirt'ctly, and clanu uring for their 
 <lumer. So, sfir your stumps, old girl, {crosses to li. door) 
 
 Mad. D. Old g;rK indeed! 
 
 Enter Brisemouciik, c. door. Jfe is still in his v'itX)ting-coat, 
 and has his gun, with a I it fie screwed- up paper stuck in it. 
 
 Brise. (it.) Ah, l)uj)ont, there you arei Is dinner ready? 
 \ want my dinner awfully ! There is no time to go home, and 
 dress for dinner; |jut I know Madame de la Glacicre will 
 excuse me; and I am dreadfully tired with my day's sport. 
 
w 
 
 ;*;■ 
 
 ts; 
 
 88 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act III 
 
 Mad. D. (l.) You have bagged a great deal of ganic, I 
 suppose, sir ? 
 
 Bkisi:. (lame? — well, not exactly ; not but tliat I'm a t,'oti(l 
 shot, whiVA I choose — a very good shot. However, I've bruuglit 
 home a prize. 
 
 iMAi). D. A line bird? 
 
 Uhisi:. No, not exactly. Just as I was about to bring down 
 a partridge — sure, this time — 1 spied, trotting along to his 
 nocturnal lair, a tiger. 
 
 Mad. 1). A tiger! good gracious 1 
 
 Ukisi:. Yes- 'ft tiger !— a gold-winged tiger — a tiger-bcetlil 
 the most bciuitiful specimen. With one eye on the parlridm', 
 and tiie other on the beetle, I missed the partridge; but 1 
 baggud \ny beetle ; and here he is. {shows the Kcreir of jxt/nr i„ 
 his (juu) Don't touch the precious creature for the life of yon. 
 woman ! But how about the dinner? 
 
 Mad. D. It is not ready yet; but the Haron is just retiuMicl. 
 
 liiusi:. Yes, yes; he left me under Couramont's windnw. 
 While dinner is getting ready, I bhould lilve to put myself to 
 rights a little 
 
 J5ai'. {lulranciiig) If you will walk this way, sir. 
 
 Kxit^ \j. door. 
 
 liiMsK. .V [iretty mess my tiger hunt has put my liands in, 
 'tuniiiiif (ft door) Has my sister come yet? 
 
 Mad 1). I have not seen her, ii>ir. 
 
 I{i;if5i:. .She's still at her toilet ; she is so very particular 
 about her toilet. She has so much decency and decorum. 
 
 Exit, I,, door. 
 
 Pauline has entered durin.;/ tlds.from R. door. 
 
 Tail. Well, for mv part, I thiidv if that Mademoiscllr 
 Zcudliie had so nnich <lecency and decorum, she might jii>t 
 »;hi>w them by nut trotting after that young Monsieur Anatnlc, 
 
 Mad. 1). Hold your tongue. I won't have any scandal- 
 niongering; and don't stand idling there! The comi)any will 
 take cotl'ec here. 
 
 Paul. You needn't stare at me, madam— I'm otY! I'm g(j- 
 in.;' ti- change my handkerchief, {crosses to L.) This is a 
 shuck iiigly unbecoming one — makes one look like a common 
 housemaid. Kxlt l. door. 
 
 Mad. 1). Yes; that's all one sees now-a-daya — an atl'ectod 
 creature that can't stitch a hem, but wants an hour every day 
 for her piano ! (iood lord ! what will the world come to next? 
 
 Exit into dining room, u. door. 
 
 Enter Prosper Couramont, c. d., agitated, and out of breath. 
 I'Kubi". lu the conservatory, she said—— 
 
[act 111. 
 3iil of game, I 
 
 i.'it I'm ji i^ooil 
 •, I've bruu-lit 
 
 TO bring down 
 along to his 
 
 tigcr-bc'C'tlu! 
 tlie partriil^M', 
 ridgf ; Jmt 1 
 ir of jxijicr ii, 
 le life of von, 
 
 just retin-neil. 
 )nt's wiM(l(,)\v, 
 I)ut inysuif to 
 
 sir, 
 
 /'''.'vV, F>. dmjr. 
 
 my lumd.s in. 
 
 sry particul.ir 
 lecoruni. 
 Erit, I,, door. 
 
 door. 
 
 VradtMnoiscIlr 
 i luigiit jii,st 
 ieur Anatnlc. 
 my scand.il- 
 tonipfiny will 
 
 •ff! rnigu- 
 This is a 
 e a cunniioii 
 JCxit I., dour. 
 -an artVctcd 
 ir every day 
 mo to next ? 
 >o/», n. dim, 
 
 ut of breath. 
 
 ACT III.J 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 89 
 
 Eukr Slzannk, l., i« aqUatum, 
 
 8uz. You've got it ? 
 Prosp. Haven't you ? 
 Suz. No. 
 Phos. Nor I. 
 
 Slz. What have you been tluing ? 
 
 Pkosp. I rushed down the stairs —I don't know how — heels 
 over head! "When I got out of the house — no one — nothing — 
 not a ghost of a sirap of i»ai)ei". " Now, one of two things must 
 have happened." siiid I ; "either the Baron stamped on the paper, 
 to j)ut It out, or pieked it up to see that it was extinguished. 
 Iiiit, as the paper was no lunger there, it is most probable he 
 (lung it aside, as he walked along. Su})pose, then, 1 follow his 
 trail, and hiuit on the ground?" So 1 tollowed his trail, and 
 hunted — — 
 Slz. liut vou found nothing? 
 I'kosp. Absolutely nothing. 
 Siz. Perhaps the wind has wafted it away. 
 I'liosi'. lint there isn't a breath of air. (.silting doun), in 
 desjxu'r; Then I'vi' all to begin over again, to-morrow morning. 
 JSlz, A\'hat do you mean l)y to-morrow morning? — directly. 
 Pko.^p. (s/iireriity) AVithout an overcoat ? 
 Suz. AVould yod leave some one else to pick it up, and bring 
 it to the Baron? Go at onee. 
 
 Prosp. (buttouiny up hi.i coat, and shiverinfj) Well, Pm go- 
 ing. Bnrr, burr ! 
 
 Suz. Poor fellow ! here, take this shawl, [throirs Louise's 
 shawl about him) 
 Paosp. No, no — I really can't I 
 Suz. But, I say you nuist. 
 
 Prosp. {ichile Suzannk v'r(ip.<i hhn up in the shawl) You do 
 with me what you will. Pm caught — bandaged; and {she puU 
 the shawl over his inouihy mu/.^led ! 
 Suz. Now go, quick — I implore you ! 
 
 Prosp. I go 1 \^with thick voice) muzzled - positively muz- 
 zled ! (lints out C. door) 
 
 Suz. Here have I been, ever since morning, running up and 
 down, round and round, like a squirrel in his cage — worrying 
 myself to death, all about a :-;tiipid bttle scrap of paper, and a 
 tiresome maji — hang him ! I'm so provoked with him, that I 
 could — poor fellow ! — I'm sure, he's giving himself trouble 
 enough to uiulo all the misehief lie has done ! I can't bo angry 
 with him! But 1 am all the more enraged with the silly lolks 
 ^1^0 ar^ idiotic enough to write insane Igve-lettera ! *' I love 
 
 m 
 
40 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 you — I love you!" — is all very i^retty lO S3y; but it isn't the 
 tliini: to ?fr//f' / — and looks so cold on paper. Tin sure, if I 
 wi'r(! tu send all the; loves in the world in a letter to any one 
 —fills Monsieur ProsiJcr, for instance — they wouldn't call up 
 one ilusli of colour in his face, lloiloa ! wliat's this? Tlicv 
 seem to have caMcd one up in nunc, thou:;h. Oh, come, coiuo! 
 I'm not goin;jj to he so ahsurd, I hope, us to allow myself to he 
 ^.hiiikinj^ ahout this i,n>od ij,entlen) in — ponh. pucli ! — tliis will 
 never do, Mndenio'st'lie St!/.;iitiie ! .MndeiiioistUe ^uz:iiine, 
 1 nuist hav« an eye upon you, and see what you are about, 
 Mailemoiselle— — 
 
 Enter ^Iatiiildi., i.. door. 
 
 ]\Iatii. (l.) Ah, godmother, there you are! Have you seen 
 Anatole V 
 
 Sl'Z. (k. asutV) Poor child, she isn't troubled with any 
 scruples, {(dotid) No my dear — have you seen the liaronV 
 
 Math. No ; but I heard him stumping up and down in his 
 room like a Avild beast in his den. 
 
 Suz. {alartiied) lias he discovered the truth, then? 
 
 Enter Bai'TISTK, l., crosses to \i. at hack. 
 
 (seeing him) Ah, Baptistc was witli the shooting party — he may 
 have seen what passed, {fo Hattisti;, vho is f/oinrf out, u. 2 v..) 
 Baptiste, a word with you. Mathikle, dear, do you think 
 dinner is getting ready ? 
 
 Math. I'll go and see. Exit info dining room. 
 
 Suz. (i..) liaptisle, you accompanied the gentlemen out 
 shooting ? 
 
 Bap. (u.) Yes, my lady. 
 
 Suz. You Avere with them when a lighted paper was flung 
 out of a window of Monsieur Briseniouehe's house? 
 
 Bap. a lighted paper ? Oh, yes, 1 recollect ! 
 
 Suz. Who picked it up? 
 
 Bap. Keally, I can't tax my memory, my lady, 
 
 Suz. Think— was it the Baron ? 
 
 Bap. My master ? I fancy it was 
 
 Suz. It was ? 
 
 Bap. 1 don't exactly remember 
 
 Suz. (aside) The man will drive me mad! 
 
 Bap. Oh no, I recollect, / picked it up 
 
 Suz. You ! What did you do with it ? 
 
 Bap. 1 believe I flung it away — no, I didn't ■- 
 
 Suz. Then you've got it ? 
 
 Bap. No, I haven't, my lady. Ah ! 1 know now — I Imnddd 
 it to Monsieur Brisemouche, who asked me for it. 
 
 (Anatole appears, c. door, and, seeing the others, concealt 
 hiinse^) 
 
 I 
 
[act III. I ACT III.J 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 41 
 
 it isn't the 
 rn sure, if I 
 
 to any one 
 I'lii't cmII „p 
 tins? Thev 
 come, come! 
 myself to be 
 1 !— tills will 
 
 u are abuut, 
 
 ve you seen 
 
 • witii any 
 kron ? 
 lowji in his 
 
 1? 
 
 ty — he may 
 
 >Ut, K. 2 K.') 
 
 you think 
 
 'inhiff room, 
 tlemen out 
 
 ' was flung 
 
 -I Imnddd 
 ', conceals 
 
 Suz. You gave it to Monsieur Brisemoucho? 
 
 Bat. No, I didn't, my lady 
 
 Suz. Grant me jiatience ! You said - 
 
 Bap. lie took it out of my jiand. 
 
 Suz, [aside) J'riscnujuclie 1im.s it— unlucky chancel — ther« 
 is no trusting stub a man. {(ihiud) Do you know where he is? 
 
 Bap. He was there just now, my lady — I will call liim ! 
 (civsses to L.) 
 
 Suz, No, no, don't call him — no noise — let him know I want 
 to see him. E.rit Uaptistk, l. door. 
 
 I must get it from him without awakening his suspicions. I 
 am on burning coals, and cannot control my impatience I I'll 
 watch for him in the hall ! Exit, L. door. 
 
 An ATOLE comes forward. 
 Anat. They are gone — I think I may venture 
 
 Enter Madami: DuPONT,/ro?;/ dining room, r. door. 
 
 Dup. Bless my heart I Monsieur Anatole f 
 
 Anat. Hush, hush, not a word! 
 
 Mad. D. {loir) Mademoiselle Zcnobic let me know you 
 wouldn't dine here. 
 
 Anat. {sorroivfully) Yes ; she packed me off to my tutor's 
 in the market cart, and told old Jean to keep an eye on me. 
 But 1 persuaded him to get down for a glass of brandy — 
 jumped out of the cart — and here I am. 
 
 Mad. D. And now you are here, what do you mean to 
 do here ? 
 
 Anat. Why — see her — tell her I love her— love her a 
 tliousand times more than ever. 1 mean to hide here in the 
 cnnservatory, where there will be no Zeuobie at my heels. 
 r»ut, first of all, I must write to Mademoiselle Mathilde. (frfl- 
 iiKj in his pochetx) Now there, I've lost my pocketbook ! Bat 
 here's the pencil I Give me a scrap of paper — aiiy scrap of 
 paper 
 
 Mad. D. Yes, I daresay, and I suppose you'll want me to 
 carry your letter next ? 
 
 Anat. Of course, you won't refuse me ? 
 
 Mad. D. Of course I shall ! Well, I never ! — the im[)udence. 
 {aside) I'd better go or he would wheedle me over in no time — 
 the little rascal I Exit into dinintj room, K. 
 
 Anat. What am I to do now? I can't write without paper 
 —oh bother! fsits down in despair on heiich, L., jtist opposite 
 Hriskmouciie's gnti) What's this?— a paper screwed up. 
 {takes the horn of the paper out of the f/un and shakes it) There's 
 lomething inside, {opens it) Oh, hid, a beetle! — one of my 
 MiiHvdiau's treasures. Well, what matter to him, a beetle more 
 
 [i 
 
mss 
 
 42 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [ACT III, 
 
 or less? He'll think lie lost it as lie oaiue along, {shakes mil 
 Vie beetle) Poor tluiiLr, it little dri-ains it owns its life to the 
 power ot' love. {tr(trs h/irnf end from, papn') There, it looks 
 better with that ragged edge torn olV— there's writing on it— 
 never min<l, there's one side clean, th;it will do, {iriites) '* Th.»y 
 wanted to s(!nd nie away, but I have returned. Thuy say 1 
 must eonipletri my studies — hut my only study hcncetortli 
 will be to make you happy, by becoirjini^ your husband. 1 
 have hidden myi>elt' in the convcrsatory — for ever and ever 
 
 your" 
 
 Brisk, {without, l.) The paper, the paper, what do yoii 
 mean? (Anatoli: springs in ainon(/ the bushes^ c. L., and hides) 
 
 Enter DiiisK^ioiJcnE, followed bi/ Suzanne, l. 
 
 Brisk, (r. aloud) What is all this about a paper? I haven't 
 the sli,i;htost comprehension of what you mean f 
 
 Sl'Z. (l.) For heaven's sake, don't talk so loud! 
 
 Brisk, l^it what paper? 
 
 Siz. A scrap of paper, set on fire and thro'vn out of Monsieur 
 I'rosper's windoAv, to be sure ! 
 
 Brisk. Oh ! the scrap of paper set on fire and — then why 
 didn't you say so at once ? 
 
 Siz. At all events, I say so now. But, where is it? — where 
 is it?— where is it ? 
 
 Brisk. IJut, what can you want with only a scrap of paper 
 — half burned, too — a little pidtry scrap not worth 
 
 8iz. {e.ra.ywrafcd) A\'hat-did-you-do-with-it ? 
 
 Brisk. I made a cage of it, 
 
 Suz. A cage ? 
 
 Brisk. Yes ; to enclose a l>eautiful specimen of the tiger- 
 beotle, which tickled the p;\hn of my hand so confoundly, 
 kicking about in it, that 1 
 
 Suz. But again — where is it ? 
 
 Brisk. Oh ! I stuck it into my gun. {gots vp and brings 
 dou'u his gun without looking at it) 
 
 Suz. I have it now ! 
 
 Brisk. Why, it's no longer there? {looling ot his gun) 
 
 Suz. No longer there ? 
 
 Brisk. Clean gone ! 
 
 Suz. {alarmed) Lost ! 
 
 Brisk. Oh ! the little monster of a beetle I He must have 
 .Mcked about so much that he rolled dowii, cage and all. 
 
 Suz. Then it can't be gone f;;r ; let us hunt about for it. 
 
 "'^tisK. {hunting among tite ]>hi)its) It's remarkalile it's very 
 
 . .rkable how iiitelligent these little animals are. I'll write 
 
 «i paper on the subject lor the Entomological Society of the 
 
 Department — a most interesting paper, {suddenly) Oh! I'v-^ 
 
ACT III.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPET?. 
 
 43 
 
 f the tkei- 
 
 found— (SUZANNK comes down, thlvkiiuj he ha.^ found the paper) 
 Tvc ibiiiid siu'li a good title! "Tho Iii.-sect's Kscapo ; or, tho. 
 Beetle's IJastiUe." (8uz.vnni: tiirn^ (itrni/ antinhj) Ilcy ! a 
 capital title ! 
 
 Suz. {hunliiKj in rain) Xotlilng — nothing! bnt have it I 
 must, liook every wliere -look everywhere ! {.ii'diifj tlic 15aU(jn 
 eominy) No, no— don't look — don't look anywhere. 
 
 liiasi:. Eh! what? 
 
 iJnter Uakon i)E LA Gi.A('i:i{E, Louisi:, and Mademoiselle 
 
 Zenohie, l. door. 
 
 Baron. Well, ain't we going to dine to day? 
 
 Enter Matiiii.de, from, dining rooni^ R. 
 Math. Yes ; dinner is all ready. 
 
 Enter JiAi'TiSTi;, //-owi dining room, R. 
 
 Bap. Dinner is on table, my lady. 
 
 Baron. That's all right. 
 
 Louise. (/oi«/o Sl/.anne) Gone away? 
 
 Suz. {absent, and hunting altont after the beetle irith her eyes) 
 Yes, gone! — entirely gone ; a tiresome little beast ! 
 
 Louise, {tfurpriml) A t" 'some little beast ! Monsieur 
 Prosper ? 
 
 Suz. Monsieur Prospt . No — yes! {aside) Poor fellow. 
 
 Louise. Now he is gone, and my letter burned, 1 breathe 
 more freely, {goes up) 
 
 Suz. {aside) Do you? and I am suffocating! 
 
 Bakon. {looking at Suzanne) Anxious and embarassed — 
 matters are not made up then. I must take the affair upon 
 myself, 1 see. {offers his arm to Suzanne) Cousin Suzanne! (u.) 
 
 Suz. {taking his arm vuchanically, and lool'nuj back as she 
 follows the x>art]i into the dining-room) Ah! thank you. 
 
 Math, (/o Suzanne) Have you lost anything? 
 
 Suz. Nothing, only a little beast — I mean a brooch. 
 
 Baron, {stopping) Here ! in the conservatory. 
 
 Suz. {eagerlij) Oh, don't think of looking for it — its not 
 worth the trouble, I assure you. {low to Matihlde) Tell 
 Madame Dupont to come and speak to me. 
 
 Erit irith the Bakon into the dining-room after the others. 
 
 Math. 1 will, {apart — going) And to think of Anatole not 
 coming after all. Oh, I'll give it to him when I catch him. 
 Exit into dining-room — Anatole opens the branches of th4 
 plants, and crops out on all-fonrs, hit letter in his hand. 
 
 Anat, At last I'm free again. And 1 can't say I was very 
 comfortable in there, amidst a quantity of outlandish plants 
 that scraped my face, and poked my neck, and pricked my 
 
44 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act IIL 
 
 legs; biit now, liow to send my letter? {he goes up and looh 
 out into the paj-k) 
 
 Enter PAULINF-, L. (fonr, vitJi a smarf handkerchief, 
 
 Paul. Come, I look sonifthln^ like now. (giinr/ iouHtrda 
 din i 11 f/ -room, sees Anatoli:) Well, if there isn't iMademoisclle 
 Zeiiobie's youni^ _£!;entlenian ! 
 
 Anat, (u,, (iiniin;/, (-/((nnrd) Ah! pray, my good youni,' 
 woman, don't tell anyhody that you have .seen me here. 
 Nobody must kjiow — nobody ! 
 
 Paul, (l.) Make your mind easy, sir. It's my business to 
 hold my tongue, inside) When I'm not paid to the contrary. 
 
 Ana'I'. (aside) Oh, perliaps she would take the letter — I've 
 read of such things in novels. Suppose I tried, {aloud) 
 Mademoiselle ! 
 
 Paul. Sir ! 
 
 Anat. {aickieardand emharrassed) You — you — you are very 
 pretty, Madcmoit^ellc. 
 
 Paul. Pvc heard people say so, sir 
 
 Anat. {as before, v-idi his eyes cast down) And people say 
 ven' right. ]5ut — but — there's one thing you haven't got ! 
 
 Paul, {loohing at hinijixedhj) Not tine eyes, I suppose. 
 
 Anat. Oh yes, you have very fine eyes — no, I mean a pair 
 of nice ear-drops. 
 
 Paul. So bribery and corruption is our little game, (aside) 
 
 Anat. (aside) I hope she won't be indignant, and fly in a 
 
 passion, {very timidly) Oh, if I dared to {sli2)s a purse in 
 
 her hand) 
 
 Paul. Anything you please, sir. 
 
 Anat. [dr/iyhted) May I ? Then just take this letter for 
 me, will you ? 
 
 Paul, (talciny the letter) I needn't ask who it'a for. (laughing, 
 i:^osses tow.) 
 
 Anat. And you'll give it to her ? 
 
 Paul. Do you think I don't knowiTjy foasmess? 
 
 Anat. (enchanted) Pauline, I must kiss you for that, (kisses 
 her) 
 
 ]t*AUL. I suppose I am to keep tlnit for myself, sir I 
 
 Exit into dining-room, R. 
 
 Anat. Oh, I'm going it — I really am going it ! — running 
 away — hiding in secret places — sending clandestine billet dovx 
 — and kissing chaml)ermaids — oh, it's just like a novell 
 Who's there? — deuce take him 1 (hides, k.) 
 
 Enter Prosper Couijamont, c. door, icrapped in the shawl. 
 
 Prosp. Nothing — I've got nothing but the rheumatism, and 
 A perfectly woltieh hunger, {iioise of plates and glasses) Oh yes! 
 
ACT III.] 
 
 SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 45 
 
 all the others are at dinner, satisfying their vile appetites 
 without me. Was ever man in a more ridiculous position — a 
 more ridiculous attire? Prosper, iny friend, you are a prf;tty 
 fellow, after s;iiling round the world in safety, to be wrecked 
 all at once on the reefs of woman's wheedledom ! This shawl 
 is like the shirt of Nessus. It burns me to the heart's core; 
 and yet I cannot tear it off! Dear shawl! ami dearer owner 
 
 of the shaxrl ! whom I — I {/ci'mcs the shaicl) There, don't 
 
 niin;e the matter, idiot ! it's no use — whom Move! whom I 
 ailore! Ton my soul, 1 must adore her, if 1 go raving up and 
 down here all day instead of getting my dinner, {goes K.) 
 
 Enter Madame DuroNT/;-o?» di/.ing-room, r. 
 
 Mad. D. Sir ! 
 
 Puosp. Don't stop me — I'm dying of hunger I (Madame 
 DuPONT lays hold of his shmd) Don't touch that shawl, woman! 
 
 Mad. D. But you are Monsieur Prosper. 
 
 Prosp. (Madamic Dupont as before) Don't touch my shawl, 
 1 tell you ! (makes a rush at the dining-room) 
 
 Mad. D. But Mademoiselle Suzanne told me 
 
 Prosp. {returning eagerh/) Mademoiselle Suzanne? Wliat of 
 her? 
 
 Mad. D. {mijstenously) She told me to look for you as you 
 came in, and let you know she had lost, somewhere about here, 
 a paper, with a little beast in it. 
 
 Puosp. A little beast? What's the little beast to me? 
 
 Mad. D. I'm sure I don't know — only she said you were to 
 look for it — and told me to ask for her shawl. 
 
 Prosp. (giving up the shawl) Her shawl? Give it up? 
 that com[)letes my misery ! {sinking down on a seat, R.) I'm a 
 dead man ! 
 
 Mad. D. Dead, sir? * 
 
 PiiOjjP. {ivith dignity) Go, woman, go, and leave me to die 
 alone. 
 
 Euit Madame Dupont, r. door, icith the shawl, expressing 
 astonishment. 
 
 Prosp. If I stop and hunt for the little beast, I shan't be 
 able to get any dinner. If I don't hunt, and go into the 
 dining room, she'll fulminate me with a reproachful glance, 
 and 1 shan't be able to get any dinner, for shame! No! I am 
 her slave! her negro slave! I am doomed to serve all her 
 little caprici^s, however absurd and ridiculous, and hunt for 
 little beasts ' To your work, hound ! to your work ! You 
 have been chained and muzzled, and now you are to hunt for 
 missis — so ho, sir ! so ho! hunt for missis I seek for the little 
 beast! seek hoimd, seek! {he goes vp hunting and sniffing 
 (ibouty and disappears for a moment in ike comervatory) 
 
f? . 
 
 46 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 Anat. (coming dovni an Prosper goes up) I don't hear any 
 one now — they are all at dinner. (Jnoking out cautiously R. door) 
 I can see them all — tliey are clianglni^ plates. (Prosper re- 
 appears, and comes dijf)i hunh'iig, Jirst L., then R.) Ah ! the 
 maid-servant is making si;;ns to mo. {makes signs in return) 
 Yes— yes — now's your time! She's taking up a phite and 
 going. Holloa! where the deuce <>? she going? Oh, you little 
 fool, it isn't— goodness gracious ! She has given my letter to 
 Madamemoiselle Zenohic — oh ! 
 
 PuosP. {seated on brnrli, n., taming suddenly) What's that? 
 (OVnatole hides in the rlitwp of bushes) I heard a sort of scream. 
 Can I have trod on the little bca-st ? (he looks ahont again and 
 picks up the end of bnrnt paper) A little bit of pink paper 
 burnt at the edge. AVhy, it's a portion of the very letter !^ 
 torn ? — who can have torn it — who ? 
 
 Enter Baron, //'o/zi dining-room, R. 
 
 Ah — I see — it's clear enougli ! It must have been the husband 
 himself. 
 
 Baron, (r.) I thought I lieard a voice, {perceiving him) 
 Ah— it's you ! 
 
 Prosp. (l.) I beg your pardon — Pm afraid I'm rather late. 
 {going to dining-room) 
 
 Baron, (stopping him) Two words, if you please. 
 
 Prosp. {aside, coming back) I shall have to fight on an 
 empty stomach. 
 
 Baron. Do you still entertain the same views you did this 
 morning? 
 
 Prosp. {aside) They will have done dinner soon. 
 
 B.vron. Do you still entertain the same views 
 
 Prosp. Yes — no— that is, {asidr) I had forgotten all about 
 that ! {aloud) Well, in i)rinciple, yes— in practice, no ; cer- 
 tainly not — in fact, Madame de la Ulaci^re displayed so much 
 opposition to my projects 
 
 i3AK0N. She had her reasons, probably. 
 
 Prosp. I don't know what reasons. 
 
 Baron, (quietly) Her unwillingness probably to stdfi you 
 sacrificing an old attachment to a new fancy. 
 
 Prosp. {after looking at him steadily) Indeed ! (aside) 
 Nothing like making the j)lunge at once, {with a change of 
 manner) I eee, sir, that you know all. 
 
 Baron. All. 
 
 Prosp. Then perhaps you'll permit the conversation to drop 
 until after dinner, {attempts again to enter dining-room — stopped 
 by the Baron) 
 
 Baron. I beg pardon, sir — the affair is too serious to admit 
 of «P|r Udlay. 
 
>ar III. 
 
 hear any 
 y R. door) 
 )sim:r rc- 
 Ah! the 
 in return) 
 plnte and 
 you little 
 7 letter to 
 
 at's that ? 
 
 f scream. 
 again and 
 nk paper 
 
 letter!^ 
 
 e husband 
 
 ither late. 
 
 ;ht on an 
 III did this 
 
 all about 
 , no ; cer- 
 \ so much 
 
 ) see you 
 
 ! {aside) 
 change of 
 
 n to drop 
 
 \ — stopped 
 
 \ to admit 
 
 ACT III.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 47 
 
 Prosp. Serious — scriou.-* ! After all. there's nothini; 50 very 
 pcrious in the m.itter. I admit that I entertained a very 
 strong regard for the lady — that there was a sort of iinder- 
 Btanding between u.«, and that we even had a triHing eorres- 
 pondenco ; but that was all — and the lady has no longer the 
 slightest regard for me. 
 
 Baron. Her affection is undiminished. 
 
 Prosp. I beg your pardon — I beg your pardon — I give you 
 my word of honour that 
 
 Baron. She has confes.'^ed it to me herself. 
 
 Prosp. Confessed //.'—confessed what? 
 
 Baron. Her attachment to you. 
 
 Prosp. She confessed that— to you? 
 
 Baron. To me. 
 
 Prosp. (aside) I'm thunderstruckJ 
 
 BaR(T5j. She has told me all, sir. \ our desertion of her upon 
 the most unfounded suspicion — your long absence in conse- 
 quence—and, spite of your uukiudness, the aflectiou she still 
 bears you 
 
 Prosp. She told you t/tat! 
 
 Baron. She told'me that. 
 
 Prosp. (o.sidf) Wt-ll. I must say she might have chosen 
 another conlident. {abnul) I understand you, sir ; and you 
 have sought n>e to dtimmd a reparation at the sword's point. 
 
 Baron. Far ♦rum it —to try and etlect a reconciliation 
 between you. 
 
 Pro.sp.' (stirpijied; What! 
 
 Baron. And to take you by the hand, {stretches 011 t/n's ham^ 
 
 Prosp. You are too uood. {nside) Too good, a vast deal ! 
 
 Bauox. Her happiness is in your hands. 
 
 Prosp. Is it ? 
 
 Bar<^n. Make her happy, then. 
 
 Pko.sp. {shaking haiuh) I should be delighted to oblige you, 
 but 
 
 BaR(jn. And make me happy, too. 
 
 Prosp. But, my dear sir, have you maturely considered 
 ■what you-we proposing to me ? 
 
 liARON. Do you think, sir, I would permit you to refuse a 
 lady so closely allied to me — after proffering her the most 
 ardent attachment — the sati>faction she has a right to demand? 
 
 Prosi'. Surely Madame de la Glaciere could never have sent 
 you to 
 
 Bauon. I must insist, sir, you don't mix up my wife's name 
 m this business. 
 
 pRosi". Hut how the deuce, sir, am 1 to do otherwise? Oh, 
 I have had enough of this — vou'll drive me mad, famished as I 
 Do wbftl vou like— figlit, or 20 to the — — 
 
48 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER- 
 
 f ACT la 
 
 Baron. Not another word — time and plac«. 
 Prosp. {exaspevatrd) When you plwise ! 
 
 Enter Suzanne and Loinsic hastily from diiiing-roojn, R. 
 
 Suz, (aside) This is Avhat I feared. 
 
 LOLISK. {a.tide) A chalh'n,L,'c' ! all is list ! 
 
 Suz. [tfiruirt'iif/ herself be/irctu tliciu) All, Prosper ! has the 
 Baron's persuasion, thou, {crosses to c.) had no more power 
 over you than my tears ? 
 
 Prosp. (snrpri^'ird) I Icy! wluitV 
 
 Suz. AVould you wish to see me at your feet ? 
 
 Baron. Never would I sutt'er such a humiliation I 
 
 Prosp. {aside) What the deuce docs all this mean ? 
 
 Suz. But when 1 swear, Prosper, that 1 never deceived you. 
 (loto to Iiiin) Back me uj) in all I say. {aloud) It was only a 
 misapprehension, {asidr) l^ack me up. 
 
 Puosp. {ht'iL'ildevrd) But I don't see 
 
 Suz. {low to him) Don't be stupid ! {aloud) You don't see 
 that you break my heart ? 
 
 Prosi'. Break your heart ! 
 
 Suz. Yes, my loving heart and you are still silent ! Speak, 
 sir, speak ! 
 
 Baron. Now, sir, what have you to say? 
 
 Prosp. I have to s;iy — I h;ive to say {aside) Oh, I have 
 
 her now ! {aliud) That if all she says be true 
 
 Suz. Can you doubt me, Prosper ? {apart to him) That's 
 right, go on — go on ! 
 
 Pkosp. {(is/dc) That's right, is it ? Just you wait a bit. 
 {aland) And you swear that you luive never been faithless 
 to me ? 
 
 Suz. Oh, never, never I {apart to him) Go on — go on ! 
 
 Prosp. That you love me still? 
 
 Suz. Love you ! oh yes ! 
 
 Prosp. Then, madam, I own that I, too, love — adore you ! 
 I swear it before these witnesses of our mutual aftection. 
 
 Suz. {apart to him) That will do now ! Quite enough! 
 
 Prosp. And I am ready to marry you, madam, as soon as 
 you will. .i<^ 
 
 Suz. In make beleve, of course, (apart to him) 
 
 Puosp. (aside) Deuce a bit ! in downright earnest ! (aloud) 
 Come to my arms, Suzanne ! 
 
 Suz. (spri)viiiig hjck) you go too far, sir — you go too far. 
 
 Baron {jm^shinf/ her into Prospkr's arms) Never mind «a^ 
 Suzanne ; it's all in the family. Embrace him, I tell you. 
 
 Prosp. (embracing her) Oh, Suzanne ! 
 
 Suz. Oh, Prosper ! (apart to Mm) You horrid traitor I 
 
 Prosp. I thmk I've caught you now* 
 
 En 
 
 An 
 
f ACT 111 
 
 room^ R. 
 
 cr ! has the 
 more power 
 
 i! 
 
 an? 
 
 eceived you. 
 was only a 
 
 oil don't see 
 3nt ! Speak, 
 
 ?) Oh, I have 
 
 Mm) That's 
 
 wait a bit. 
 leen faithless 
 
 -go on 1 
 
 -adore you ! 
 iction. 
 biough ! 
 ;iB soon as 
 
 [est ! (aloud) 
 
 ro too far. 
 •er mind usy 
 lell you. 
 
 raitor 1 
 
 ACT III.] 
 
 SCRAP OF PAPER. 
 
 49 
 
 Srz. (aslile) Don't make too sure of that. 
 
 Enter Madf.moiselt.e ZENonrn and Matiiilde, /rom the dining 
 room— HiUriEMOUCUE— Men Haitiste oM Pa'jline. 
 
 {dun'nfj tlief<)Voinmffy9>FMy\STS hand coffee — liuiSEMOUCiiE 
 ■/* alone in front, holding a piece of paper in hin hand', he 
 is slightly intoxiaUed) 
 
 BiMSE. It is a k)vc letter! — a love hitter to Zenohie ! I 
 ,»]iiiul(ln't have believed it, if I hadn't seen — with my o-.vn eyes 
 socu— the young woman slip it under her plate, {reading) •' I 
 am obliged to leave home by dayliglit, dearest love." Now, 
 who the deuce could ever call Zenobic " dearest love?" 
 [reading again " But far or near, my soul will follow thine." 
 All this to Zenobie ! It is iiwredible ! but here it is. Ah, 
 lure's a chance — if I could but got rid of Zenobic — force the 
 fellow to mairy her — what a piece of good luck it would be. 
 
 {folds the paper in two) 
 
 Baron {coming down xoith a cup of coffee in his hand) Don't 
 yon take coUce? {drops down, L. c.) 
 
 IJiiLSE. {iinidc) Ah — an idea I {gives paper to the T^wiO's) Do 
 you know that handwriting? 
 
 Bakon. This? {as ha opens the paper, Prosper is coming 
 down with a cup of coffee in his hand, and observes the Bakon 
 reading the reverse side to that read hg Brisemouche) " They 
 wanted to send mc away, but I have returned." 
 
 BuiSE. Nonsense — "returned" — he said he was obliged to go. 
 
 Baron, {continuing to read) " They say I must continue my 
 ettidics." 
 
 Brihe. Nonsense — " studies" — no-, no — " dearest love." 
 
 Baron. No — *' studies" — it is written in peiuil ! 
 
 Brise. No — '' dearest love" — in ink. {tahrs letter and tnrns 
 over to the other side) There — it is there ! {gives had: letter to the 
 Baron) 
 
 Prosp. (coming down hastily) The letter I {snatching it from 
 e Baron) 
 
 Bai{on\ (still laughing) Come let's bee this wonderful letter. 
 
 Prosp. No, no; I can't allow it. 
 
 Brise. But, why? 
 
 Prosp. (quietly finishing his cup of coffee) Because I don't 
 ant to admit everybody into my confidence, (gives his impfg 
 nipto Bni^EMOl-CUKto hold) 
 
 Brise. Then vou wrote that letter? 
 
 Prosp. ■\Vell,''and if I did ? 
 
 Brise. What I unworthy frfend, you have taken advantage 
 f being under my roof, to make love to Zenobie — delude her 
 inocenc o 
 
50 
 
 fICRAP OP PAPEU. 
 
 [ACT III. 
 
 m $ 
 
 ;ir J 
 
 Baron. IIo ! make love to ZcnoMe? 
 
 liKisr;. Rut, of course, ho will take her off my hands— I 
 mean marry her? 
 
 Ba1{on. (f/ivliifj his cn.ptij cnp to BniSKMOUCHE to hold) AVliat 
 docs all this mean, si)- 'i This morning you make love to 
 
 Mathlldc — this evening, you promise to marry Suzanne — and 
 all the while you are naking love to Zenobie. 
 
 Bkise. Don't'you call Zenobie " De.arest love?" 
 
 Pnosp. Never dreamed of such a thing ! 
 
 BuisE. But the proof is that scrap of paper. 
 
 Baron. Yes — show us the scrap of paper — what is it ? 
 
 Pjtosp. As you say —a mere scrap of paper, {ahowa it hehim 
 his hack to Suzannk) 
 
 Suz. {to Louise, alarmed) It is the letter I 
 
 Louisr:. {alarmrd) The letter ! 
 
 PRosr. {coolly) But as you seem to attach some mystery to 
 this scrap of paper, I request Mademoiselle Suzanne — my wife 
 — to jud,!jje of its contents, {holds out paper to Suzanni:) 
 
 Bauon. (seizing Idler to the alarm o/Trosi'ER and Suzanne) 
 So be it — Suzanne shall read and judge I 
 
 Suz. It is unnecessary — quite. 1 know what it contains. 
 {t(dL'cs the paper) 
 
 Baron. You know ? 
 
 Suz. Yes — a mere bit of folly— a joke. 
 
 Brise. a joke ! a joke I The chance of getting rid of 
 Zenobie is no joke I 
 
 Baron. Beware, Suzanne — your life's happiness may be 
 concerned, (crosses to Suzanne) 
 
 Suz. AVell, even if it be ? (gives paper to Prosper, R, ard 
 holds a lighted candle ivhich she takes from a table close hj her) 
 Burn it, my good friend. 
 
 Baron. Suzanne ! 
 
 Suz. (holding candle) Burn— burn t 
 
 Baron. Ah! you're a happy man to marry such a woman 
 who trusts you so implicitly. 
 
 Prosp. 1 know I am. (bunis the letter and puts the taper on 
 one of the coffee cups held bg WwisVMOHVAiE— looking at the ad(s 
 of letter) Oh, you confounded little rascal of a scrap of pap r' 
 what a peck of troubles you have put me in. 
 
 Brise. {holding the tivo cups of coffee and taper) I take mj 
 oath I saw the words " dearest love." 
 
 Zen. (coming down, L.) What's that you are saying ? 
 
 Suz. My dear Mademoiselle Zenobie, I've a piece of plea a it 
 intelligence to communicate. We've just made up a matih 
 between Monsieur Anatole 
 
 Zen. {simpering) Oh, dear — spare my feelings I 
 
 Suz. And my uttlo cousin Mathilde. 
 
[ACT Iir. I ^^ j„ ^ SCRAP OP PAPER. 
 
 51 
 
 ystcry to 
 -my wife 
 
 uzannk) 
 
 :ontains. 
 
 S I'id of 
 
 may lo 
 
 , n, ard 
 '. hj her) 
 
 Anat. {springing forward from the hushes, R.j Oh ! what joy I 
 {drops dowUf L.) 
 
 Zkn. {asldr) The little wrctrh was there all the time. 
 
 Anat. {Idssing the hand o/'MA'inii.DK) I am so happy. 
 
 PuosP. [to Sl'zannp,) And so am I. 
 
 Suz. {low to him) I have no doult yon arc. You have given 
 ^our word to start to-night for the Cannibal Islands. 
 
 Pkosp. By all means— bnt not without my wifo. 
 
 Suz. What 1 do you want to eat mc up ? 
 
 Frosp. With love! 
 
 Louise. Suzann:; — you must give in, you know. 
 
 Suz. {smiling) Well, it seems fated 1 am to sacrifice myself 
 for others. 
 
 Pkosp. Yes : to ensure my happiness. 
 
 LouiSK. Your own as woli. 
 
 I'uosp. And the contentment of all around, I trust, 
 
 Suz. {looking at the ashes) And all on account of a mert 
 •erap of paper I 
 
 R. L. 
 
 LouiBs. JBaaom. SusAMMfi. Faosfeb, Zemooie. Anatolb. 
 
 Matoua^ 
 
 (/per on 
 W' a:.' fa 
 pap r' 
 
 ike mj 
 
 lea a it 
 nut.ib 
 
 Cuvtuith 
 
 

 11 
 
 
 VI 
 
 
NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 fin ^xigfml €omeiri^ 
 
 IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 TOM TAYLOR & AUGUSTUS W. DUBOUBO. 
 
 JOINT AUTHOHS OF TUB DBAMA 
 
 "A JSkkr^t Fenance." 
 
 London t 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 89, STRAND. 
 
 New York : 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 PUBLISHBBP, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET. 
 
NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 First performed at the llaijmarkfl Thcalre {under thf 
 management of Mr, JJuckstone), on the "Ibth October^ 1869 
 
 CfiavaftfVfli. 
 
 MARMADFKE VAVASOl'Il, Esq. [of 
 
 Ckvc Ahheij) ... ... Mr. CnirrKNOAM!. 
 
 f^AMUEL 1?K()\VN {a Livcrinxd Jhrchmii) ^\r. Howe. 
 BERTIE FIT'' IJJJSE ... ... Mr. IJlckstone, Jun. 
 
 MH.imNTEIl ... i<t iklf-tnatle Alan) .. . Mr nicKsroxB. 
 HEUTIIOLD in.ASENlJALG (^a Mhiivrj 
 
 A(/c)it and Financier) ... Mr. I'oar.us. 
 
 SECKEli ... ... .., ... Mr. r.KAii). 
 
 GANTRY {nulkrat Chvc Alhcy) Mr. WKAiiiEKsnT. 
 
 TUUBIT ... {Cleric nf the Harks) .. 
 MONT^rOIiEXCY {^SWrant to Ihinler) 
 S^EKVANT ... {to I'arasnu,) ... 
 
 TELEOKAPH MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. .Jame.s. 
 Mr. ("i;(»i;('ir. 
 Mr. Wkhstku. 
 Master FiKi.nEu, 
 
 LADY M.VTir.DA VAVASOUR 
 
 LILIAN VAVAbOUR 
 
 MRS. IJUNTER 
 
 FANNY HUNTER 
 
 Mr.'*. rmrrr.N'DAr.E. 
 
 MiiS M. RoilKKTSdN. 
 
 Mrs. E. VnmnuuAu. 
 Mi.s.s ('. IIiix. 
 
 MRS. BRILL {Jlotu,ei,eci>er at Clcvc Ahbci/) Mis.s ilABUisox. 
 
 TiML. — Present Day 
 
NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 I 
 
 =?i'>— 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene. — The Library/ of Cleve AbhAi/, opening hy French 
 tiundow, H.c, to garden and shrubbery — in the distance^ 
 a finely-timbered park — beyond^ the lawn, picturesque 
 Abbey Ruin — doors, ix. and l. 1 i:., and door up .l., 
 facing audience — the room is handsomely furnished in 
 an old-fashioned style, with buhl and marqueterie 
 cabinets — old oak panelling, tj'c. — rich draperies to 
 window — the furniture shows marks of age and long use* 
 
 Gantry discovered arranging the contents of letter-bag on 
 
 table, c. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Brill, l. 1 e. 
 
 Mrs. Brill. Mr. Gantry, can I say a word to you, 
 please ? 
 
 Gant. If you can't, Mrs. Iklll, who can ? What is it ? 
 
 Mrs. Brill. Mr. Seeker's card, for a friend of his to 
 see over the ruins, (gives :ard) 
 
 Gant. Mr. Seeker's card — eh ? [looks at cardj and 
 returns it to Mrs. Brill) Then, I sliould say, Mrs. Brill, 
 attend to it. 
 
 Mrs. Brill. But Thursday's the show-day, and what's 
 Mr. Seeker, I'd like to know ? — only an attorney. 
 
 Gant. Only an attorney ! Only the party as has his 
 fingers in every pie in the county, and the licking of 'era 
 afterwards. Take my word, Mrs. Brill, if you don't 
 feel at home in 'ot water, always keep out of law and in 
 with the lawyer. (Mrs. Brill goes up^ and comes down^ l. 
 Q9 Ssckgr cro99e$) 
 
 u 
 
r»r: 
 
 5 
 
 KEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 <""'!ijii 
 
 
 ri 
 
 \ 
 
 Enter Secker, door l. 1 b. 
 
 Talk of tlie old gentleman — liere he comes ! 
 
 Seck. Let j\Ir. Vavasour know I'm here, Mr. Gantry. 
 Oh, Mrs. JJrill, did yon get my card ? 
 
 Mk.^. IJuif-L. And attended to it; you may be sure of 
 that, Mr. Secker. (curtsri/s) 
 
 (Canthy ohsaquiombj relieves Secker of his hai 
 fflores, and papers) 
 
 Seck. That's right. Now, ray minutes are six-and- 
 eightpences. Look sharp. Gantry ! {arranging his 
 papers) Exit Gantiiv, door r. 1 e., with letter-bag. 
 
 Mrs. I>rill. {aside) Drat tliem papers of his ! Tlierc's 
 mischief in 'em — I know there is ! Exit, l. 1 e. 
 
 Seck. {looking over papers') Yes, the crash must come. 
 If clients won't look ruin in the face till it's more than 
 a match for them, so much the worse for clients. 
 
 Glad to set 
 
 Enter Vavasour, door r« 
 
 Good morning, sir ! {seated l. of tahhy c.) 
 
 Vavas. (r.) Ah, Seeker! good morning I 
 you. {sits R. of talle, c.) 
 
 Seck. {shrugging his shoulders) Ah 1 
 
 Vavas. l>rigljt, cheery weather — eh ? 
 
 Seck. Wc shall want it — I'm afraid, sir — for the busi 
 ness I've come upon. 
 
 Vavas. The old story — eh ? More bother about money 
 matters ? I wish I saw my way out of it. 
 
 Seck. I'm afraid I sec my way out of it at last, Mr. 
 Vavasour. 
 
 Vavas. Afraid you see your way out of it, Secker? 
 
 Seck. Heavy arrears of interest — no means of raising 
 it ; mortgagee insists on his money, and has served the 
 usual six months' notice, {points to paper) 
 
 Vavas. Confound it, Seeker ! I thought he was to give 
 us time. He lias given us time for two years 
 
 Seck. And he's tired of it at last, sir. He announces 
 his determination to force a sale 
 
 Vavas. {in consternation) Sell Cleve Abbey ? This 
 will be terrible news for Lady Matilda. Is there no way 
 to stave off niin a little longer ^ 
 
Act 1.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 Seck. Only hy making it more complete when it does 
 come. A wile now will leave } en with a few thousands 
 margin ; another year would swallow them up, and leave 
 you with nothing. 
 
 V'avas. It's not for myself I care, but for Lady Matilda 
 and the children. There's the money to be lodged for 
 Stanhope's commission, and J^i Han's outfit for the season 
 — her tirst season, you know. Seeker, on which her 
 mother counts so much. AVho's to break this to my lady ? 
 
 Sfx'K. You promised to prepare Lady Matilda for the 
 worst, last audit day. 
 
 Vavas. Yes, yes ! but have you no feeling ? Don't 
 you see that sort of thing isn't to be done on the spur of 
 the moment, sir ? 
 
 Seck. Further concealment is impossible. My advioe 
 is— tell Lady Vavasour the worst, at once. 
 
 Vavas. J3ut do have a little consideration for my posi- 
 tion. Seeker, as the head of an ancient family— a family, 
 sir, that has held Clevc Manor since the Conquest, and 
 returned county members in the reign of Henry IV. {/its 
 voice irembh's) And now, to leave the old place, where 
 one's heart has grown to every stone, every tree — where 
 the old name seems to have taken root like the old timber 
 — to be shouldered out by some mushroom money-maker. 
 Confess, Seeker, it is hard to bear ! 
 
 Seck. Families are like crops, Mr. Vavasour ; they 
 will exhaust the soil, if you keep always taking out, and 
 never putting in, and then there's nothing for it but new 
 soiling. 
 
 Vavas. I never expected to hear such revolutionary 
 sentiments from you. Seeker. 
 
 Seck. We lawyers must look facts in the face, Mr. 
 Vavasour, revolut'onary or otherwise. After all, the 
 world moves, sir, and it will only give us the lie if we 
 say it stands still. I'd better leave you to break the 
 unpleasant news to Lady Matilda, {makes a motion to go 
 door^ L.) 
 
 Vavas. Stay, stay, my good friend I It would come 
 60 much better from you ; J^ady Matilda is quite a woman 
 of business ; / can't put it to her in a business point of 
 view ; you can, you know. 
 
 'i 
 
 
 ..i-i 
 
mr 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. [ACfT 1. 
 
 Seck. I make it a rule never to interfere between hui- 
 band and wife. You must face the facts. 
 
 Vavas. Confound it, sir 1 I am quite ready to face the 
 facts, but how am I to face Lady Vavasour ? 
 
 Enter Lady Matilda Vavasour, window^ c— f?ou^, c. 
 
 Good gracious I h«rc she ia. 
 
 (Both rise — Secker, gathering up his papers^ bowa 
 to Lady Matilda, and is going off^ door^ l. 1 e. 
 
 Lady M. Don't run away, Mr. Seeker ; I've some com- 
 missions for you. My love, I've a letter from my sister, 
 announcing that poor Reginald Fitz-Urse is laid up with 
 the measles. Only think, Mr. Secker, of his catching the 
 measles two years after marriage I And in her P.S. my 
 sister most kindly offers to take charge of dear Lilian for 
 the season. 
 
 (Secker goes up with Lady Matilda's shawl-^then 
 comes down^ l.) 
 
 Vavas. That's lucky I 
 
 Lady M. Lucky ? 
 
 Vavas. I mean, my dear, it'll save our taking a house 
 for ourselves. 
 
 Lady M. {compassionately) It is well he has you and 
 me to look after him, Mr. Secker. 
 
 Vavas. Why, it seems to me a very sisterly oflfer. 
 
 Lady M. Sisterly — eh ? 
 
 Vavas. Well, motherly — if you like it better. 
 
 Lady M. Yes, I like motherly better. Jane has four 
 daughters of her own on hand ; you don't suppose dear 
 Lilian would be allowed a chance of anything eligible till 
 they are provided for? (to Secker) So, my dear Mr. 
 Secker, I want you to write at once, and engage a good 
 house for the season. I think I should prefer Mayfair to 
 Belgravia ; and, on the whole, I think we'd better not 
 take our own horses, so you'll be good enough to arrange 
 with Anderson ; aad — let me see — what else? {crossing to 
 K., and looking at her tablets) 
 
 Vavas. {aside to Seckeb) Tell Imt it can't be done, 
 oe rher. {crossing to him) 
 
 Seck. {aside to Vavasoub) Tell her yourielf, Mr. 
 Vrvasour. 
 
[ACTl. 
 recn but- 
 > face tho 
 
 'dowrif c. 
 ersj bows 
 
 L. 1 E, 
 
 )me com- 
 ny sister, 
 
 up with 
 ching the 
 
 P.S. my 
 iilian for 
 
 wl^then 
 
 ; a house 
 you and 
 !er. 
 
 has four 
 )se dear 
 ?ible tiU 
 iear Mr. 
 a good 
 ayfair to 
 tter not 
 arrange 
 jssing to 
 
 3 done, 
 
 If, Mr. 
 
 ACTl.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 Lady M. Whispering ? Why, my dear Marmaduke, 
 what a remarkably long face I And yours is aiaiost as 
 long, Mr. Seeker. 
 
 Vavas. The fact is, my dear. Seeker has some rather 
 unpleasant news to break to you. 
 
 Seck. I beg your pardon ; Mr, Vavasour wishes your 
 ladyship to understand 
 
 Vavas. And so — I leave Seeker to explain 
 
 Seck. That if arrangements are to be made for a season 
 in Town, your ladyship must find the means, as well as 
 give the orders. 
 
 Lady M. Pardon me ; that's your affair. As Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer, you settle the Budget — I only vote the 
 Appropriation Bill. 
 
 Vavas. But how if the ways and means are not forth- 
 coming, my dear ? 
 
 Lady M. [gatlt/) Oh I then we must take a vote on 
 account till the Budget's brought in. It won't be the 
 first time, you know — we did it last year. 
 
 Vavas. In fact, we've done it so often, that we can't 
 do it again. 
 
 Lady M. I don't understand you. 
 
 Vavas. Tell her. Seeker — I haven't the heart, {crosses 
 behind to r.) 
 
 Seck. In plain English, my lady, we've come to the 
 end of the tether — you in the way of spending, and I in 
 the way of raising money. Cl*'»*e Abbey's mortgaged up 
 to the hilt — and, short of a miracle, I don't see how we 
 can stave off a sale of the property before the year's out. 
 
 Lady M. {after a pause, and in an altered voice) Mar- 
 maduke, is this true ? 
 
 Vavas. Well, fcftlly, I uaderstand it is ; that is — I 
 don't understand exactly, but I'm afraid it is, my dear. 
 
 Lady M. And I have been kept in the dark while the 
 avalanche was gathering, to be told of it just as it is 
 ready to crush us. Have I deserved this ? 
 
 Vavas. lias either of us deserved it ? I'm sure I did 
 my best to pull up. I've done everything that courage 
 could do. 
 
 Lady M. Except the one thing it was your duty to do 
 above all others — trust me. When the captain abandons 
 the ship, it is time for his mate to take the helm I {to 
 
 
NEW MI:N and old ACRKS. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Skckkr) This sale muat be prevented, at all eosts and at 
 all linzrtids. 
 
 Vava.^. Must 1)0 prevented, my lady ? AVith all my 
 heart ; but 1 don't see how. 
 
 Ladv M. (/'> Hkckkh) Those mort^Mgos ! There are 
 heavy :u reni-s of interest, you say ? Tiic man cannot 
 have been very pressing ? 
 
 Vavas. {fuf/ubrioush/) Hasn't he, though? If you 
 knew how I've begged and prayed to liiin for time — only 
 to look round ; why, I've as good as gone on my knees 
 to the fellow — by letter, of eourse I 
 
 Lady M. I must try what I ean do, without going on 
 my knees. AVe must have no secrets from you now, Mr. 
 Seeker. It is not our fortunes that are at stake here, but 
 our children's prospects. This is to be Lilian's first 
 season in I^ondon. AVhat would be her chances of marry- 
 ing as a daughter of a ruined man ? I tell you this sale 
 must bo prevented — at least, for this season. Is the 
 mortgagee an acquaintance of yours ? 
 
 Sfx'K. An ohl acquaintance. Hut for that, he would 
 hardly have been so forbearing. 
 
 liADY M. Is he a man of fortune? 
 
 Seck. Leading partner in one of the oldest and 
 wealthiest firms in Liverpool. 
 
 Lady M. In trade ? Persons of that class arc always 
 open to social influences. We must invite him down here 
 at once. 
 
 Seck. He's been in t'.c neighbourhood this -vVeek past. 
 I sent him over with my card to see the ruins this morn- 
 ing. He should be somcAvherc about now. 
 
 Vavas. [bitterly) " Taking stock," I suppose he would 
 call it, of Cleve Abbey. Confounded shopkeeper ! 
 
 Lady M. And you never oflorod to do the honours of 
 the old place. Go at once (/o Vavasouk) and say Lady 
 Matilda Vavasour particularly desires the pleasure of his 
 acquaintance {goes up to tahle^ R.) 
 
 Vavas. Eh? Say — that — {slowly) — ah — egad! I 
 begin to smell a rat ! A capital idea of my lady's, 
 eh — Seeker? (aside to Seckek — going) I'm glad I had 
 the pluck to tell her the worst. Let us take this fellow 
 roy lady's invitation. 
 £xeunt Vavasoub and Secker bt/ windoWf r. c— o^, r. 
 
[Act I. 
 
 »st3 and at 
 itli all my 
 
 There are 
 an caniiut 
 
 If you 
 
 I mo — only 
 
 my knees 
 
 going on 
 now, Mr. 
 licrc, bnt 
 lan's first 
 of marrv- 
 I this sale 
 Is tiie 
 
 be would 
 
 dcst and 
 
 c ahvays 
 own hero 
 
 eek past, 
 lis morn- 
 
 le would 
 r! 
 
 nours of 
 ay Lady 
 •e of his 
 
 gad! I 
 
 lady's, 
 
 I I had 
 
 i fellow 
 
 '/;». 
 
 Act 1.] NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 9 
 
 Lady M. Anything to gain time. A year's respite — 
 glx months, even — may be our wilvatlon ! Lilian's happi- 
 ness shall not be wrecked if a mother's wit and will can 
 Bavc it. 
 
 Enter Lilian, door, l. — speaking oj^. 
 
 Lilian. At your peril, IJertie, if you stir till I tell you. 
 [shuts door, and comes dmvn^ u. c.) (Jood morning, 
 mamma ! (kisses her, then j'tininq her hands in vufck' con- 
 (ritioji) Please, begpard<ui for playing tiniant at breakfast, 
 but I was so floored with the bull ! 
 
 Lady M. " Floored,'' my l<»vc? I snp})ose you mean 
 fatigued. J)o drop that det^^table slang. 
 
 Lilian. Uh, but Stannie and Ikrtit; say I'm such fun! 
 
 Lady M. (k.) Take my opinion before theirs, dear. Men 
 may think ^^ slang girls" "sueh fun," but they seldom 
 see any fun in ^^fast wices." IJut this is all that wretched 
 Ikrtie's doing. lie shan't stay in the house another 
 week. 
 
 Lilian. Oh ! but just think, mamma, where he'll go 
 to in the Civil Service Kxamination, if you tear him away 
 from his coach ! 
 
 Lady M. His coach? 
 
 Lilian. Me, mamma ! I'm grinding him up in his 
 history and things. .Stewing down hard facts into portable 
 historical soup, suited t*" IJertleV limited digestion ; 
 Liebig's extract of beef is h trifle to my essence of history. 
 Why, I've actually packed the two first lines of French 
 kings into a neat four-in-hand of my own, to the tune of 
 " Sing, old Hose, and burn the bellows l" 
 
 Lady M. You are as great a tom-boy as he is a tom- 
 fool ! And now tell me seriously, darling — what sort of 
 a ball had you ? 
 
 Lilian. Oh, awfully nice, I mean very jolly (at piano) — 
 that is, no end of a crowd. I ilidn't sit out one dance. 
 
 Lady M. You danced only in your own set, I hope ? 
 
 Lilian. Oh, of course, mamma — except twice. 
 
 Lady M. And that was 
 
 Lilian. "With a friend of the Bunters ? (sits on stool^ s. 
 </Lady Matilda) 
 
 Lady M. (Jn horror) Danced twice with ^ friend of 
 
10 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 the Runtcrs, Lilian ! Tiiosc odlnuf? j)an'('nu^ — avIio seem 
 to think society's a sliow, to he t'litcivd hy piiying at the 
 door. If I hate anyom' — 1 IiojMr \ don't — Imt if I do, it'a 
 tlio Hunters, and the upstart class tlioy belong to. And 
 you actually had tlic recklessness to danco 'vvitli one of 
 tlieir set ! 
 
 Lilian. Oh, hut I assure y«)U, mamma, ho was not in 
 their style. Not the least loud in his dress, and I should 
 think he's thirty at leant, quite ^vhat IJertie calls " an old 
 fogy." 
 
 JwADY M. [i'emonstralin(i) Lilian ! 
 
 Lilian. And then I wasn't at all nice to him of course. 
 Oh, I snubhed and (dialled him frightfully 
 
 Lady AL Really, J/ilian ! 
 
 Lilian. And when Lady Weston's earriag-^ couldn't get 
 up. I suppose her John had some of the " Fleece beer!'' 
 They don't get too much at Weston Hanger, you know. 
 
 Lady M. {remonstratlnf/) My dear, don't gossip. 
 
 Lilian. Mamma, you never will let me talk — and the 
 Bunters offered to set me down • 
 
 Lady M. You declined the honour? 
 
 Lilian. [apologeticaJbj] No, I didn't, mamma. Well, 
 you sec I thought I should rather like-^Mrs. l^unter is 
 such fun with her old point, and her new diamonds, and 
 not an ' II' to her back, mannna I And then Fanny 
 Bunter — in sj)ite of her Ruskinism-run-mad — isn't half a 
 bad sort; and then, of course, dear ma', [running on) I 
 didn't dance more than was nccessaiy, and I 
 
 Lady M. Lilian, I must talk very seriously to you, and 
 I liardly know where to begin. Every other word you 
 utter is of the vilest slang. You've danced with some low 
 person of the Bunters' set — you've accepted a seat in the 
 Banters' carriage 
 
 Lilian. Oh, but I did that partly for the fun of making 
 Mr. Brown ride outside. 
 
 Lady M. Mr. Brown ? And pray who is Mr. Brown ? 
 I'm not aware that we have the honour of knowing a 
 Mr. Brown. 
 
 Lilian, He was the partner I told you of. 
 
 Lady M. Lilian, this heedlessness of yours at once 
 alarms and distresses me. You never had so much need 
 
Acr 1.] 
 
 Ni:W MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 11 
 
 as now of a proper scn.sc of wlmt you owe to society, to 
 your family, to yoiir.self. Wlio knows, my dcnr child, 
 but that tliis first season may land yoji in a brilliant 
 Mioccps, or a horrihU' fiasco! I have never, like too 
 many mothers, given ynn a senflmentf.l view of life. I 
 liave tried to prepare yuu for the Avurld as yon will find 
 it. Let me sec you reward my maternal care ! {kisses 
 her) 
 
 Lilian. Yes, I know you've told mc all this before, 
 mamma. 
 
 Lady M. I have never deceived you, my darling. Your 
 pupa is not rieh. 
 
 Lilian. (Mi, if f could fill his dear old pockets? 
 
 Lady IM. It is indisjH'nsable, that in marrying, you 
 ?l»nuld look to a good establishment. Fortunately, you 
 have always had a mother to guide you. Ah, if 1 had 
 had that invaluable blessing at your age ! [rises, crosses, u.) 
 
 Lilian. I suppose you would not have married, papa? 
 {rises) 
 
 Lady M. I did not say anythin* t» 5\'arrant that, Lilian. 
 Ihit I have lived to see more and more clearly that in our 
 station, fortune is the main, nay, the indispensable requisite 
 f(M- happiness ; without that, nothing can make life pleasant. 
 "With that, most things that make life unpleasant, can be 
 got over. Never forget that, darling, {patting her under 
 the chin) 
 
 Lilian. I won't, mamma, depend upon it. {kisses her) 
 
 Lady' M. And do oblige me by dropping slang — keep- 
 ing people, like the lUinters and this Mr. Hrown, at a 
 proper distance, and not l)eing quite so free and easy with 
 young men. Your Cousin, Jiertie, for instance. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, mainma, I'm sure there's no danger there. 
 
 Lady M. ^'o you, perhaps. How do you know what 
 there may be to him ? 
 
 Lilian. Oh, nobody ever fell in love with his coach. 
 
 Lady M. {looking annoyed) His "coach?" 
 
 Lilian. That isn't slang — really it isn't, mamma ; it's 
 the regular thing. I mean it's the correct card. I?ut 
 ieriously, if Bertie evei does talk any nonsense of that 
 kind, I'll be down on him like a hammer. 
 
 Lady M. My dear I 
 
 !'. 4. 
 
i 
 
 h 
 
 ■? ■' 
 
 . t- 
 
 12 
 
 kew men and old acres. 
 
 [AcTi. 
 
 Lilian. Maminn, you don't seem to understand me. 
 
 Lady M. I own, I do not, my vliild. 
 
 Lilian. Well, I moan, I'll shut l»lm up. Put the ex- 
 tinguisher on liim. 
 
 Lady M. AVorse and worse I 
 
 FiTZ-r. {outside door, \..) I say, Lilly ! {runs in doivn^i.) 
 IJeg pardon, aunty. I say, Lilly, how do you divide ono 
 million one hundred and eighty one thousand .six hundred 
 jumnds live shillings and two penee, hy six .shillings and 
 eiji^ht i)enee ? Six«'s into five you can't, you know, and 
 eights into two, I'll he h.inged if you can. 
 
 J^ii.iAN. Oh, you stupid ! Jteduce them both to a com- 
 mon denomination. 
 
 FiTZ-l^ A common -what? 
 
 liii-iAN. Here, I'll show you. Only a minute, mamma. 
 You .see, compound division, is rather hard tor him. They 
 didn't do arithmetic at Ftoii. Now, yo»i old mufT, Sec. 
 {they go up, r,., talk'nuj till qtiite off through door^ l.) 
 
 IjAdy M. Dear girl ! It" slu; were a little less heedless. 
 Ah ! {turns as Skckkk appears ivilh JIkown at window^ 
 R. c.) 
 
 Seck. Mr. Vavasour ha.s hern detained hy his woodman. 
 Will you allow me to present ^fr. Brown to Ladv Matilda 
 Vavasour? {introduces, and goes to l. ofc. talk) 
 
 Lady M. {startled, but immediatch/ suppressing it) Mr. 
 Brown ! Singular coincidence. I and my daughter were 
 just talking of you. 
 
 Brown. Lideed ! My morning has hecn full of sur- 
 prises. 
 
 Lady M. Lilian was telling mc how she enjoyed last 
 night's ball. Thanks, not a little, to her agreeable new 
 partner. 
 
 ]Jrown. I should never haT© guessed from her rmnnei 
 last night, that I was the sort <»f partner .'*hc thought it 
 worth while to bo pleasant to. 
 
 Lady ^f. Lilian is a little brusque sometimes. 
 
 BuowN. So it struck me last night. 
 
 Ladv M. You know what girls arc now-a-daysj Mr. 
 Brow'u ? 
 
 Bkown. Well, not much ; but Miss Vavasour seemed 
 very much amused, and I am very glad if I amused her. 
 
Acri.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 is 
 
 Lady M. (laughing) 1\vM filiows how little you men 
 know of a woniiin's rcail impression of you. Como, I 
 suppose Mr. Vava.sour has .<^lj(nvii you tlio honio.^tcad and 
 the stables. You iiui.st let me do tiio honours ot my own 
 poor little flower garden. AVonun have so few re.souree.s 
 in the country — our flc^wers becfune i»ur eompanions — 
 almost our friends. {llu'>i walk, up, u. — Skckk.u crosses, i. — 
 Jhfow.N helps IjADY Matilda irith her mantle) 
 
 JJiioWN. They have one invaluabb^ (junlity for friendship, 
 they have no tongues to say nnu-e than they moan. 
 
 Lady M. (going out with Hkown) And thry never 
 
 belie their looks — fis men and women do — only t<»o often. 
 
 Exeunt Lady Matilda and Huown, window, u. r. 
 
 Seck. [looking after them) ]x)ok out for your poekets, 
 Sam Brown. AV'liy ean't the law let a woman liki; tliat 
 stand in her husband's shoes, as well as wear his snudl 
 clothes ? Exit, door l. 1 k. 
 
 Enter Lilian with books, and Fitz-Urse with papers, 
 
 door, L. u. E. 
 
 Lilian. (siVsr. of table, c. — Fit7.-L'Rsel.o//<t/>/(?,c.) Now 
 let me see that you've got the question down right, [reads 
 from book, Fitz-I'kse icrifes it down) " Jf twelve men can 
 dig a trench fifteen yards long and four broad in three 
 days, of twelve hours each, in how many days of nine 
 hours, can eight men dig a trench twenty yards long and 
 eight broad ? 
 
 Fitz-U. {who has followed the question, looks upfront 
 paper) How is a fellow to find that out unless he k.iows 
 how strong the other fellows are ? 
 
 Lilian. Bertie, you are a duffer ! In these questions 
 the strength is alwa^B presumed to be equal. 
 
 Fitz-U. I like that. As if one fellow ever was just as 
 strong as another fellow. You might just as well ask : i;* 
 it takes you ten minutes to get up the names, weights, 
 and colours of the Derby Card, how long will it take me 
 to floor the births, deaths, and marriages of the kings of 
 Kngland ? 
 
 Lilian. Well, suppose we tried. Here's your manual. 
 Will you Bay your "Principal Treaties'' or your "Decisive 
 Battles ?" 
 
 
 c r 
 
 ir 
 
 r 
 
 
u 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACHES. 
 
 i I 
 
 ;i 
 
 i 
 
 i) 
 
 iff 
 
 m 
 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 FiTZ-U. 1 know one (lot'i.sivc battle betwocn Ikrtio 
 Fitz-Ursc and his coach ? J>}' jovc ! I wonder you've 
 got the patience sometimes. 
 
 Lilian. I want you to get through, sir, and I mean to 
 pull you through. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Ah, but suppose they put tiie examination off 
 as they've done once already — I shall have to be crammed 
 over again. 
 
 Lilian. Ah, one must be careful how one puts in the 
 new charge before firing o(T the old one — it might burst 
 the gun. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Sometimes I feel I'd better cut the Civil 
 Service altogether, an«l try Australia. Fellows say 
 the kangaroos give one a capital run sometimes — or 
 there's Natal — one might go in for an elephant you 
 know. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, yes ; and conic back a lion, with a mane 
 of tawney beard and a talc — in two volumes — to the 
 bosom of yoiir family — and the embraces of the Geo- 
 graphical Society. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Oh, I say—you do chaff a fidlow so. You sec, 
 one don't mind chafl" from a girl one don't care for. But 
 I do care for you, Lilly — I do, honour bright. 
 
 (rises and comes doicm, L. c.) 
 
 Lilian. I don't believe you. (.s//(y) 
 
 BiTZ-U. You're an awfully jolly girl, and I only wish 
 you would let me ask you 
 
 Lhjan. Anythiug you like about the history of 
 England, (rises) 
 
 FiTZ-U. Hang that ! I wean whether you think you 
 could ever care a bit about me— I don't mean as a coach, 
 you know but in the way of a — lov — a [pause] 
 
 Lilian, [laughs aside) Now, Bertie, be a good boy, 
 and don't talk nonsense. 
 
 FiTZ-U . Nonsense ! One d«)n't like going on one's 
 
 knees, you knoAv, b»t if thal's the correct thing [takes 
 
 out handkerchief and about to kneel) 
 
 Lilian. Anythinj^ but the correct thiug. Forbidden 
 by the table of proliibitcd degrees. A man mustn't go on 
 his knees to his coach, [laughing) 
 
 (Lady Matilda appears at window^ i.) 
 
actI.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 15 
 
 FiTZ-U. Hang it all ! — if you don't care for a fellow — 
 don't poke fun at him. 
 
 Lilian, [gravely) Listen to mc, Dertio. You and I 
 can't aftord to tall in love with each other, [walking arm" 
 in-arniy first to r., thcM to c.) Two nouglits arc notliing ; 
 you know arithmetic enough for that. You must look out 
 for a wife who wants connection, and has plenty of money 
 to buy it with. And I — well — I know wh.tt I must look 
 out for. 
 
 FiTZ-U. But I don't care a rap about money. 
 
 Lilian, [in Lady Matilda's manner) Hush, Bertie 1 
 Naughty boy ! Remember that in our class, fortune is 
 the main — njiy, the iiulispcnsablc condition of happiness ; 
 ¥rithout that, nothing can make life pleasant ; with that, 
 most things that make life unpleasant can be got over. 
 Never forget that, darling, [chucking him under the chin) 
 
 Lady M. [at icindowj u. c. — aside) Excellent girl ! My 
 lesson, to the letter ! 
 
 FiTZ-U. Lilian, I didn't think you were one of that 
 sort. I always thought you were the style of girl to value 
 a fellow's love — a good fellow's, I mean — though he hadn't 
 a brown. 
 
 Lilian. Can't afford it, I tell you ! ain't to be done at 
 the price ! I'll tell you what — if you're a very good boy 
 — I'll coach you into matrimony, us well as multiplication. 
 I should recommend you strongly to make up to Fanny 
 Bunter. She's a very pretty girl— a girl of the period — 
 and she'll have no end of money. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Take care — you might drive a fellow to do 
 something desperate ! I don't be'ieve you'd half like it if 
 I did make up to Fanny Bunter. 
 
 Lilian. Just you try. Now go and have another good 
 grind at the Plaiitagenet kings. Be off, sir ! Am I your 
 coach, or am I not? [points to dooi,, u.\ 
 
 FiTZ-U. I tell you what it is ; the next time I see 
 Fanny Bunter, if I don't make desperate running with 
 her, just to spite you, and see how you like that I 
 
 Exit^ door^ l. 
 
 Lilian. You can do just as you like. I don't care a 
 bit. {turnip and $ee» Lady Matilda, who is behind chair^ 
 at ^ck of tablej c.) 
 
 I4 
 
 s 
 
 !- I J 
 
 ! '■ 
 
 n i 
 
 ' I 
 
 iiiltl 
 
16 
 
 KEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [ACTl. 
 
 Lady M. Bfotliing cou]<l luivo been better, iiiy dear. 
 
 Lilian, [surprised) Were you tltere, mtimnui? 
 
 l^ADY M. Yes, nearly all the time, and delighted to 
 hear you talk so sensibly to that silly boy. (Lilian laughs 
 aside) And delighted to hear you've laid my lesson to 
 heart. You may laugh, but you'll be thanktul one day, 
 too. And now come into the garden. ^Ve'vc a visitor — 
 a visitor "vvho has been inquiring after you. Look 1 
 {points outside window^ u. c. — LiHAN goes up, looks, and 
 comes down, u. c.) 
 
 Lilian, (astonished) Mr. Brown 1 I assure you. 
 
 mamma, I didn't ask him. 
 
 Lady INI. I am perfectly aware of that, [both coming 
 down) I now wish you to make yourself particularly 
 agreeable to him. 
 
 Lilian (r.) Agreeable to that Mr. Brown, mamma — a 
 friend of the liunters ! 
 
 Lady M. Oh, quite a mistake — that ! lie's in business, 
 it's true, but he's evidently a superior person. 
 
 Lilian. Mamma ! 
 
 Lady M. There are reasons why we should pay him every 
 attention. You know, when I say there are reasons 
 
 Enter Vavasour, icindow^ it. c, with a telegram. 
 
 Vavas. a telegram just arrived, my dear ! Reginald 
 Fitz-Urse has died of the measles. 
 
 Lady M. Is it possible V What a very sad thing for 
 his wife, [crosses to Vavasouh) 
 
 Vavas. Although we werom't on terms, still — one can't 
 lielp feeling. 
 
 Lady M. It is mo.st distressing ! This will make a 
 great ditVercnce in Btrtie's prospects. 
 
 Vavas. I should think it would ! AVhy, he stands next 
 in the title, failing issue of poor Beginald. 
 
 Lady M. Lilian, I think you had better break it to 
 your cousin J»e»tic. See that he writes a proper letter, 
 poor fellow ; and he kind to him ; I'm afraid you treated 
 him a little too !)ar<lily just now. 
 
 Lilian. I thou^;l)t you wished it, mamma! 
 
 Lady M. Yes, bpt \,]\v,rc js \\ WJ^y of doing these things, 
 fjrOj my loyp, 
 
 loi 
 
 C( 
 
 K| 
 
 lI 
 
 scj 
 fo| 
 Li 
 
Act 1.] NEW MEN AKD OLD ACRES. 
 
 17 
 
 Lilian. All n'glit, ma ! I'll make hlni write a stunning 
 letter. ZJ.r/7, door^ r,. u. 
 
 Lady M. [turns to Vavasouu) This is terrible news ! 
 [huth sit) 
 
 Vavas. AVell, my dear, these things will happen ; but, 
 con>i(loring we haven't spoken to th(Mn fur tive years, we 
 can hardly be expected to break our hearts over poor 
 Reginald ! 
 
 Lady ^L {sharpJy) Reginald ! This will prevent 
 Lilian's coming out, and destroy all her chances for the 
 season ! AVe niiglit luwc staved otT ruin, or kept it quiet 
 for this year, but by the next, the worst must be known. 
 Lilian's prospects Avill be hopelessly blighted. 
 
 Vavas. Just like Keginald — aways doing things .it the 
 wrong time. Why couldn't he have his measles after the 
 season. 
 
 Lady M. Yes, it is the only resource ! IMr. Vavasour, 
 [turning suddenhf to him) Are you willing to clear your- 
 self from embarrassments, to preserve our position in the 
 county, to keep Cleve Abbey in the family? 
 
 Vavas. Willing ! Only toll me how it is to be done. 
 Lady M. Jiy manying Lilian to this Mr. Brown. 
 Vavas. Matilda ! 
 
 Lady M. The man holds the mortgage on the property. 
 It rests with him to force a sale or prevent one. By this 
 means — and this only, I see a way to redeem the family 
 fortunes. 
 
 Vavas. W^hat ! many Lilian to one ef tlicse money- 
 grubbers ? It's enough to make all the Vavasours ribo 
 from the family vault, to forbid the banns. 
 
 Lady M. It is our duty to sink our own feelings in the 
 interests of our children. Stanhope must marry a fortune, 
 to keep up the old name — Lilian must sacrifice the old 
 name, to marry a fortune. What «loesit matter, after all, 
 whether Clcve Abbey descends in the male or female 
 line ? 
 
 Vavas. It will be a bitter pill ; bat I suppose it is a 
 law of nature that these money-grubs should eat up tho 
 good oM family trees, lint how are you to bring this 
 unnatural match about ? Lilian's her father's girl all ovefi 
 she hates a snob. 
 
 V- 
 
 f 
 
 5JT 
 
 i .9 
 
 i 
 
 - J -, 
 
 iiH i. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ;,!ii l!I 
 
 Mi till 
 
 \ i^' 
 
18 
 
 KEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [ACTl. 
 
 ■; 
 
 ! 
 
 :! 
 
 ll'^ 
 
 
 Lady M. Mr. Brown is not a snob, Marmadake. He 
 
 is one {rises) of England's merchant princes — one of the 
 class which has made of this tiny island an empire on 
 which the sun never sets ! {crosses^ r.) 
 
 Enter Lilian, door^ l. u. — crosses to Lady Matilda. 
 
 Vavas. Good gracious, Matilda ! Have you been to 
 the Manchester school, too ? 
 
 Lilian. Bertie's writing his letter, mamma. But I've 
 been thinking of such a difficulty : one can't be presented 
 in mourning I 
 
 Lady M. No, Lilian ; we must give up the season in 
 ToAvn altogether. 
 
 Lilian, [ruefully) Give up the season, and all the 
 delights I've been dreaming of so long — operas and balls, 
 picnic parties, Kottcn Row, and the Zoo on Sundays? 
 Oh, I could cry with disappointment. 
 
 Lady M. I sympathise with you, my poor child— but 
 proper feeling must be shown on these occasions. 
 
 Lilian, [to Lady Matilda) But you know we didn't 
 care a bit about cousin Reginald in his life-time, (Lady 
 Matilda holds up her finger — Lilian turns to Vavasour) 
 and I call it downright hypocrisy to shut up ourselves in 
 black now he's gone ! {crosses, j».) 
 
 Va> as. Very tilie, Lilly — very true, but one mustn't 
 say so. 
 
 Lady M. You must remember, LiUan, family mourn- 
 ing is one of the usages of good society. My dear Mar- 
 inadnke, we are neglecting our visitor. 
 
 Vavas. {mide) What a wo'^vpn that is ! Got a reason 
 for everything. Extty window, R. 
 
 Lady M. (n.) Lilian, this vnfortunate affair not only 
 destroys the pleasure of youi season — it is likely to seal 
 the ruin of your family. I feel I may tmst you. Your 
 father is deeply, nay, desperately involved. I had counted 
 on arranging a brilliant marriage for you before this waa 
 discovered. It can't be kept back another year. 
 
 Lilian. I know what you wished, mamma, and I 
 wished it too, so much, that I might keep up the old 
 place, and help Stannic with hi^ steps — and get papa out 
 of these weary money troubles. Girls are io useleii 
 
Act 1.] NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. "^ 19 
 
 generally, and I felt so proud of going out to set every- 
 thing right. 
 
 Lady M. My brave affectionate girl, yoar chance may 
 1)0 (l.imagcd, but it is not desperate — only be guided 
 
 l>v me. 
 
 Enter Vavasour with Brown, window, R. C ' 
 
 Vavas. I must hand you over to the ladies, Mr. Brown, 
 wliilc I write my letter of condolence. (Brown bows) 
 Poor Lilly I Sighs and exit, r. 
 
 Lady M. Here's a young lady been making humble 
 confession — and begging me to ask absolution for her 
 sauciness last night. 
 
 Brown. Plenary absolution, [crosses to C.) if Mis« 
 Vavasour will accept it at my hand, [offers his hand) 
 
 Lilian. I'm afraid I was very rude. 
 
 Brown. It seemed to amuse you, and it didn't hurt me. 
 
 J (Lilian qoes to piano, and sits) 
 
 Lady M. Well, I must leave Lilly to prove her peni- 
 tence, as it is close on post-time. You have heard of our 
 sad family bereavement — our first cousins-Lord Bear- 
 holm's only son 
 
 Brown. I understand from Mr. Vavasour that you had 
 not been on terms for some years. 
 
 Lady M. Yes. How any shadow of past unkindness 
 deepens the melancholy of such a moment ! 
 
 [wipes her ei/es, and exits, door, R.) 
 
 Lilian, [playing piano) I wish I could foci as mamma 
 does, but 1 never saw cousin l{oginald — and one can't 
 pretend to care much about a man one never saw, can 
 one ? 
 
 Brown. I hope not. (goes to ht*r) 
 
 Lilian. I confess, I do feel dreadfully s<>rry for the loss 
 of the London season 
 
 Brown. Regret London — with such a beautiful place 
 as this ? Why, I> think Clevc Abbij would reconcile me 
 even to the loss of Liverpool ! 
 
 Lilian. Oh, please don't compai*e London to Liverpool I 
 Why, London means pleasure, gaiety, society, triumphs 1 
 
 Bhown. And Liverpool means business. I dare eay 
 yoa think it odd a man should miss ledgers and dock 
 
 ± 
 
20 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [ACTI. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 p.: 
 
 m 
 
 »- 
 
 warrants, noisy wharves and dingy offices, but these have 
 been my life, you know. 
 
 Lilian. How awfully dull you mu.st have found it. 
 
 BuowN. Not half so dull as what you call amusement. 
 I'm afraid I'm spoilt for au idle man. Why, even if I 
 lived in the country, I fancy I should settle down into 
 something like a gentleman farmer. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, but a gentleman farmer's life is perfection. 
 Sit down, [thei/ sit — IJkown, l. anr/ Lilian, r. c.) pottering 
 about the fields on a hundred guinea cob, baiting one's 
 bailiffs, v;<\' :*iig the crops, and grumbling at the weather ; 
 and t.ien t'iink of the darling little lambs, and the lovely 
 calves, that poke their dear little wet noses into one's 
 hands. 
 
 Brown, (l. c.) Ahem I I'm afraid that's young lady 
 farming. T l?'W.?t I .should go in for pigs — short-haired, 
 black Berk.•<h^•e^■ 
 
 Lilian, (r c.) Oh ! I'm very fond of pigs, too. I 
 
 rnpil-eared quite lovely ! Then 
 ' :ig, and riding into the justice 
 al.. , *lie schools and the old 
 
 do think a fat roui •< 
 there's huntr ;;, ^nd .s^ 
 meetings, and kokin;^ 
 women 
 
 Brown. I don't know so much about the old women ! 
 
 Lilian. And feeling one's-self welcome in every hall, 
 farm-house, and labourer's cottage for ten miles round. 
 Oh ! if I were only a gentleman farmer 
 
 Brown. I'm afraid that's out of the question ; but you 
 might help to transform me into one. 
 
 Lilian. You ? 
 
 Brown. Yvn, I've been thinking of buying an estate. 
 
 Lilian. In this county ? 
 
 Brown. Yes ; in this immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 Lilian. But there's no place in the market, here- 
 abouts. 
 
 Brown. There may be one, shortly. 
 
 Lilian. I'm so glad. 
 
 Brown. 'I'hank you ! 
 
 Lilian. Oh, no — it's thank you I In the country one's 
 always thankful for a new neighbour. 
 
 Brown. My acquaintances, the Buntcrs, don't seem to 
 htve felt themselves particularly welcome. 
 
[ACTI. 
 
 these have 
 
 md it. 
 
 muscmcnt. 
 ^ven if I 
 
 down into 
 
 perfection. 
 ) pottering 
 ^'"g one's 
 ' weather ; 
 fhc lovely 
 nto one's 
 
 ung lady 
 rt-haired, 
 
 too. I 
 ' ! Then 
 e justice 
 tiie old 
 
 omen ! 
 cry hall, 
 round. 
 
 but 
 
 you 
 
 estate. 
 
 here- 
 
 rone's 
 lem to 
 
 Act 1.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 21 
 
 Lilian. Oh ! they seemed so satisfied that their money 
 was to open all the doors in the county — no wonder people 
 took a pleasure in .shutting them in thuir faces. Yon 
 nuist own that poor Mr. Ihir.tcr is an nnniistakeahle 
 "cad." ([l\un\s ra/st's his r//e/jron';i) Ami his wife — well, 
 she's a caution for snakes I (IJiiows itjirns Jits e//es slUl 
 wider, oftvr a siii//it pause) 'riiat's ^>hat liortic calls 
 tliem — IJertic, iny cousin. lie's here, ri-adin;; for the 
 Civil Service examination. I'm coaching him in his 
 Knglish history. 
 
 IJkown. And he's giving you lessons in the English 
 language. 
 
 Lilian, (reading his look) Have I said anything very 
 dreadful ? 
 
 Brown. Well, " cad " and " a caution for snakes " ar« 
 rather strong expressions for a lady. 
 
 Lilian. 1 like words there's no mistake .about. 
 
 IJuowN. 1 should have thought there might be some 
 mistake about words of that s«»rt in a lady's mouth. 
 
 Ln.FAN. (rat/ier hurricdli/ and hotljj) Naturally, we old 
 fiimilies don't ciioose to be walked atop of by these push- 
 ing parvenKS. They seem to forget there arc things 
 money can't buy. 
 
 linowN. Will you tell me what they are ? 
 
 Lilian, (proudly) The dignity of an old name ; the 
 Rs.sociations of long descent ; the recollections of a .stately 
 pa.st ! What should people who can't Identify their great- 
 grandfathers know of these ? 
 
 l^uowN. I admit, tlie past is yours, MLss Vavasour ; but 
 how about the future? 
 
 Lilian. The future can't belong to people like the 
 Bunters, or it wouldn't be a future. 
 
 BuowN. I rather think It belongs more to those who.sc 
 brains and hands shape the w(»rld about them, than to tho.se 
 who stand on the diii'iltv of (»ld nnnies. 
 
 Lilian. Yon cannot be expected to feel ah I do on such 
 points, (rises, and goes (r> piano) 
 
 Brown. No. 1 can't identify my great-grandfather; 
 he is lost in the large family of Browns, (rises) It's a 
 comfort, though, to think one must have had a grcat- 
 grf^nd father. 
 
 , 
 
 r 
 
 I , 
 
 n 
 
22 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 lie-enter Lady Matilda, door, r. 
 
 Lady M. Now, Mr. Brown, I'm quite at your service 
 for the fernery. I hoi>c Lilian has made licr peace with 
 you. 
 
 Bkown. {crosses to Lady Matilda) I wasn't aware 
 tiiere liad c.vor been a war. 
 
 Lady M. Kvcn if there had IxH-n, I don't think Lilly 
 wouM have been a very implacable enemy, {aside to him) 
 The sweetest tempor, Nfr. lirown ! Ah, you can makti 
 allowances for a mother's weakness. 
 
 Exeunt Lady Matilda and Brown, window, r. r. 
 
 Lilian {at piano, plaijing) I don't like him a bit 1 
 "What right had he to find fault with my language, and to 
 gneer at ancestors ? Why is mamma so civil to him, I 
 wonder ? I'm sure I hope we shan't have him for a 
 neighbour. 
 
 Enter Gantry, door, l. 1 e., with cards on salver. 
 
 Gant. Mr., Mrs., and Miss Bunter, Miss, and Mr. 
 Blase nbalg. 
 
 Lilian. I'm sure mamma's not at home to them. Say 
 everybody's out. Gantry. 
 
 Enter, on Gantry's heels, Mr., Mrs., and Miss Bunter, 
 and Blasenhalg, door, l. 1 e. — Gantry, exits, l. 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. It's only us. Miss Vavasour. "We've 
 brought back the fan you left last night in the carriage. 
 
 Bunt. Country neighbours, and no ceremony, you 
 know, {rubbing his hands] Mhs. B. was all for paste- 
 board, but my rule is — where I call, I come in. 
 
 Lilian. How d'ye do. Miss Bunter ? I'm glad to see 
 you're not looking a bit tlie worse for the ball. 
 
 Bunt. Let's see I you don't know Mr. Berthold 
 Blascnbalg. (Blasenualu bows profoundbj) My Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer, First Commissioner of Works, 
 and Head of the Science and Art Department, rolled 
 into one. 
 
 Blasen. Go along Avith you 1 Perhaps you didn't 
 know Bunter was such a wag. Miss Vavasour. Humour 
 U his strong point. 
 
 Bunt, Pou't blush , B, Though you mightn't think \% 
 
ACTl.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 i3 
 
 to look at Inm, I don't know a man who knows more 
 tJmn my friend li. 13. I ain't given to exaggeration ; when 
 ]icnjamin IJunter sjiv.s a tiling, he means it. 
 
 Hlaskn. (aside to Bintkri Now's my time. I'll take 
 a pquint round, and reconnoitre the ground a bit. 
 
 liiNT. (aside to him) CJo and squint ! (JJlask'^BALO 
 goes uj) and out, iciiidow, k. c.) 
 
 Lilian. Mamma will be sorry n-'i to see you, but a 
 death in the family prevents her rceiving you to-day. 
 
 Mks. IJuNT. A death in the family? Might I ask 
 which branch — the Sliortlan«ls «»r the Hearliolms ? 
 
 Lilian. My cousin, Reginald Fitz-Ursc, has died sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Mhs. Bint. TIjc Honorable Keginald Fitz-Ursc dead ; 
 and oidy two years married — and no children yet, if I 
 remember ! Pray tell her lady.sliip how much wc feel 
 for her. 
 
 Bunt. Ah, we are cut down as a flower! 
 
 Lilian. Mamma will be so sorry not to sec you ! 
 
 Bunt. Assure her, Miss Vavasour, the regret is mutual. 
 {glibly) It's tnie, we're not members of tiie same order. 
 You belong to the old landed gentry ; I'm a self-made 
 man. Not that I blush for it ! Maria, tlierc, Avill tell 
 you Benjamin Bunter don't care who knows he came 
 into the City of I^ndon a ragged boy, without a shoe 
 to his foot, and the sum of tiikke pence (empliasizing 
 each word) in coppku in his pocket. But I had had 
 good parents, and I hope I honour 'em. They taught mc 
 to read, write, and to ^-ypher. I 'ad henergy — though I 
 say it — and hindustry : and I rose, ma'am, by little and 
 little, to the proud position of the 'urable individual who 
 now stands before you. 
 
 Mks. Bunt. Keally, Mr. B., 1 don't sec what call 
 you've got to go back like that. 
 
 Bunt. Because I've come forrard like this, Maria, and 
 wc are told it is good not to be puftcd up. 
 
 Mhs. Bunt, [goiiuf yp stage — Lilian follows) What a 
 beautiful phice you ht»»e here, Miss Vavasour — only, if I 
 were you, I would got rid of them nasty shabby ruins. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, mamma! How can you suggest such a 
 thing ? I adore ruins ; tliey speak to mc with the voiee« 
 
I 1 
 
 If 
 
 
 H 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 -even 
 
 of the past ! {to Liijan) I am sure you hoar them- 
 now ! Hark ! [scntimvntalh/ lookbuf o/T, u. c.) 
 
 Lilian. It's only tlic wind in tlie chimneys. Yes, I 
 like ruins. 
 
 Mrs. JJunt. {down, i-.) So I sec, hy the fnrnitur'. I 
 like thing.s that h)ok like tlie money you've put into them. 
 
 Bunt, {sententinush/) Everything has its phice, Mrs. ]], 
 Old families and old fnrnitur', like their's — modern 
 hopulcnce witli modern elegance, like ours. 
 
 Lilian, {aside) Oh, I shall die of these people I Why 
 don't they go ? 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. But one thing I should like to see, while 
 we arc here — that's the gardens and the glass. B. is all 
 for glass 
 
 Bunt. And iron, Maria. Cflass and iron are, I often 
 say, the right and left 'ands of 'orticnlture. Thanks to 
 them and 'ot-wator pipes, we can conquer climate and 
 annilliate the Iielrinents! I've three acres under glass at 
 Beaumanor Park ; three-quarters of a mile of fernery ; 
 and our forcing 'ouses are considered equal to Chatsworth 
 — at least, so my gardeners tell me. I don't pretend to 
 know — still less, boast ! AVhat is man, that he should sot 
 up his 'orn ? A poor worm ! — you're here to-day, and 
 gone you are to-morrow ! 
 
 Lilian. I'll send one of the men to show you the 
 gardens, {aside) For what I have escaped may my stars 
 make me truly thankful ! Exit^ door^ r. 
 
 Fanny, {looking at cabinet, c.) Oh 1 mamma — papa, do 
 come and look at this lovely buhl ! 
 
 Bunt. A bull, my dear ? Not in the flower garden, 
 aurely ? 
 
 Fanny, {deprecatinghj) Oh, pap& I {comes down, r.) 
 
 Bunt. I'll be bound it's only one of them little Breton 
 cows, tethered on the lawn. 
 
 Fanny, {contemptuously) "Who mentioned cows? I 
 said buhl, papa — 1^, U, II, L — buhl ! 
 
 Bunt. No, Fanny, fashion may change some things, 
 but B, U, double L still spells "bull," all the world over. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, it's no use talking to papa ! Do look, 
 mamma, at this lovely bit of marqueteric. {looking at 
 tabinctt c. 
 
Act 1.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 25 
 
 I3u:iT. Ah! a bit of marketry I That's something like ! 
 "riiin't often you take an interest in anything like hoaso- 
 kocplng. 
 
 I'anny. Oh, this is too barbarous I (she and Mrs, 
 JJlntkk look at furniture together) 
 
 Re-enter Blasenbalo, window, r. c. — down, l.— /jc takei 
 
 BuNiKK aside. 
 
 Blasen. De cisen is all right, sure enough, in do 
 
 mountain limestone. Such beautiful kidneys! pot-holes 
 
 full of dcm ! All von mit de Saxon and Furness Ilivma- 
 
 titcs. De iron is dere — a mine of wealth under our feet ! 
 
 (Mus. Blnteu takes out her ^^ Pocket Peerage" and 
 
 thumbs it to place) 
 
 Bunt. Under our feet — eh? We must manage to get 
 tlic kidneys into our pockets. I say, Brown's been poking 
 Ills nose about the place. Suppose he was up to snuff, as 
 well as you and I ! 
 
 Blasen. Snuff? Snuff of a candle. Brown knowi 
 nothing. I've sounded him. {goes up, l.) 
 
 Mus. Bunt, [coming down, n. c, ivith her ^^ Pocket 
 Peerage") Yes, I'm sure it's him. [appealing to Buntek) 
 My dear, you know that Mr. Bertie Fitz-Urse, that was so 
 attentive to Fanny last night 
 
 Fanny, (u. c.) And waltzed so beautifully, mftmma ? 
 
 Mns. Bunt, (c.) That very elegant young man, you knowl 
 
 Bunt. (l. c.) Elegant — eh? Keeps an account at the 
 Bank of Elegance, 1 should say, and nowhere else. 
 Wliat about this elegant party ? 
 
 Fanny. Party! 
 
 Mks. Bunt. Now Lord Bearholm's only son is dead, 
 lie's next for the title, after the Honourable Mrs. 
 Reginald's baby — supposing she has one. 
 
 Fanny. There was something very distinguished about 
 him. 
 
 Ik'NT. And if he is next to the title, Maria, what's 
 that to us ? AVe ain't members of a bloated aristocracy. 
 I hope me and mine reckon such distinctions at their 
 proper value. 
 
 " The rank is but the guinea stamp. 
 The man's the man, for a' tliat." 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 H 
 
r,,.;, 
 
 26 
 
 NtW ulEfJ ANb OLD Acres. 
 
 [Act 1 
 
 itt 
 
 ! i 
 
 I 
 
 Blasen. a noble .sentiment — that 1 
 
 lUiNT. The sort of tiling' that comes home to ft man's 
 Lusincss and his hosoni — tiiat doc.A. 
 
 ** The man's thu man, for a' that." 
 
 (HuNTKU and Hlabkntialo (70 tip, L.) 
 
 Mits. Bunt. All the same — it'b a plea.sure to know 
 who's who. 
 
 Fanny. And where do we find so much elegance and 
 refinement as amonj; the ari.stoerney ? 
 
 Bki:tik. (from in'lftin — opeuiurj door, l. r., and cominrj 
 down with letter in his hand) I say, 1 Jlly, how d'ye .^ix'll 
 " sympathy "' — " i " or "y ?'' I l>e^ your pardon ! {sirin;/ 
 thi Hi:ntf,i:s — crossinu to Fanny) None the worse for the 
 ])all, Miss lUiuter? '{sh'ik'rs hands — bows to livsTi^ii) I'd 
 no notion there was anybody here, 
 
 Mus. Bunt. Miss Vavasour Avill be back directly. 
 She's kindly otTered to show u.s the gardens. 
 
 Bkhtii:. Oh, I say, Mrs. Bunter, let me show you. 
 
 Mks. Bunt. Oh, we couldn't think of pre.'^uming 
 
 BuuTiE. Delighted — honour bright ! I've nothing to do. 
 
 He-enter Lilian, dooi^, R. 
 
 Lilian. Nothing to do, sir ? How dwrc you say that ? 
 
 Bkutie. Nothing I like doing, I mean. 
 
 l^UNT. AVhile you ladies are among the flowers — your 
 native element, as I may call it — me and my friend here 
 will take a turn round the Home Park. What is there 
 like the works of natur' — especially under steam cultiva- 
 tion, "abroad in the meadows" — eh, B. ? 
 
 Blaben. To view de young lodes — eh, B. ? 
 
 Exeunt Buntlu a7id BLASKNUALft, door, L. 1 k. 
 
 BuTiE. (/o Fanny) Like tlowers, Mi.'^s Bunter? 
 (Mrs. BiNTKi; and Lilian go round — Lilian showing 
 Miis. Bunter the furniture) 
 
 Fanny. I adore them ! As ]\u.<kins says, "They arc 
 a revelation I'' J)on't you feel tlicv are a revelation? 
 What sweet society — even in the hedgerow weed ! 
 
 Bertie. Yes, one never feels lonely with a weed. 
 
 Fanny. And to think there arc people who cannot 
 appreciate their fragrance ! 
 
 Bertie. Can't stand 'cm, even in the open air. 
 
AcTl.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRE3. 
 
 S7 
 
 Fannv. As Wonlsworth says — 
 
 " A primnKso on the river's hriin 
 A yellow primrose was to hiin| 
 And it was iiotliiii^ more I" 
 
 Brrtif.. [repeating, merlianicnlh/) " Xotliing more!" 
 [aside) I wonder what the deuce it shoidd have been. 
 
 {thei/ stroll into the garden, through window^ R.— 
 during this ronvrrsation, Mu?. IJi nthii Aav been in 
 animated conversation over the ^^ Pocket Peerage ") 
 
 Mrs. BuNl. (u. of table, c.) I declare, Mr. Fitz-Urse 
 •nd ranny have walked oft' tatur-tatur ! 
 
 Lic.iAN. (l. of table, c. — pointing off^ r. c.) There's a 
 gardener at your orders. 
 
 Mks. Bunt, [goes up, and holes into garden through 
 window, 15.) And if yonder ain't your ma' and Mr. Brown, 
 of all people I I must say, I think Brown wouhl have 
 shown better taste to have kept away. But some people 
 has no delieaey. {coming down, v.) 
 
 Lilian, (sits u. of table, c.) I don't understand why 
 Mr. Brown should tV-el any delieaey. Do you mean after 
 .nc snubbing I gave him last night ? 
 
 Mrs. ]Jl'nt. 1 mean, eonsidering the mon / lie has lent 
 your papa on mortgage, and that your papa hasn't found 
 it eonvenient to pay him. In eour.se, money will be tight ; 
 as Bunter says—" it is it's nature to!" 
 
 Lilian. l*apa owe Mr. Brown money ? 
 
 Mns. Bunt. You see, Bunter makes it his business to 
 know these things. No saying he mightn't bid for the 
 uroperty himself, when it's for sale. 
 
 Lilian. For sale '? 
 
 Mks. l^UNT. But perhaps Brown mayn't be so pressing 
 as some people. I shouldn't wonder if your ma' talked 
 him over. It's wonderful how women can talk men over, 
 when they give their minds to it. The cheques I've 
 swindled Bunter out of — often and often — and you'd 
 think, to look at him 
 
 Lilian. I think your daughter is beckoning to you. 
 
 Mrs. Bunt, [going towards window) I do hope, for 
 your .sake, my dear, that your pa' won't have to sell the 
 property. Perhaps I'd better not go to your ma', as she's 
 
 I 
 

 :!:r 
 
 liil 
 
 i' 
 
 III?-- 
 
 S8 
 
 KEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 got Brown on liand. Two's company, you know — three's 
 none 1 Exit Mr??. JkNTr.n, window^ r. 
 
 Lilian. Can this be tlic truth ? Now I understand 
 mamma's reason for treating him so civilly. Sell Clcve 
 Abbey 1 Leave the dear old place ! It will kill poor papa I 
 
 Re-enter Brown, winiow^ r. c. 
 
 Brown, [down^ r.) Lady Vavasour insists on our 
 changing good-byes. She will have it there's a cloud 
 between us, though I told her you were ready to give me 
 a lesson in gentlemau-tiinning. [sees thf grave look on her 
 face) Eh ! Miss Vavasour, it" you look so grave I shall 
 begin to think your mamma was right. 
 
 Lilian, [seated l. of table, l.) I know now what you 
 meant when you spoke of buying an estate here. It was 
 Cleve Abbey ! Oh ! tell me — do you think papa will be 
 forced to sell it ? 
 
 Brown. I beg your pardon ; I don't think that's a sub- 
 ject for you and me to enter on. 
 
 Lilian. I see ; you think me a silly girl, like all the 
 rest of them. 
 
 Brown. No — indeed ! 
 
 Lilian. Then prove it, by answering my question. Do 
 tell me — do ! 
 
 Brown. I'm afraid your father is too much encumbered 
 
 to clear himself without (pausing) 
 
 Lilian. I understand, lie will have to sell the Abbey 
 —and you mean to buy it ? 
 
 Brown. Of course you will hate me for that? 
 Lilian. Somebody must buy it. 
 
 Brown. I wish thtrc was anvthing I could do to 
 expiate my oftence. If you woula only tell me— anything 
 
 you wished seen to 
 
 Lilian, (after an effort, and collecting herself) I hope 
 you'll keep up the old gafden, and the maze, and the old 
 8un-dial with the broken nose, and the fish-pond — it's full 
 of duckweed and there are no fish in it, but please don't 
 have it filled up. 
 
 Brown. Certainly not. I'll have the ckweed kept 
 in and the fish kept out — religiously. I'll change nothiwg 
 you wish left as it in. 
 
Acrl.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 29 
 
 Lilian. Thank you so much ! Anil there's the schools 
 — you'll look particularly after tlioni ? 
 
 Brown. Oh, that'll bo a job at'ttr luy own heart 1 I'll 
 have a thoroughly efficient master anJ mistress 
 
 Lilian. Oh, but you must keep the old ones I 
 
 Rkown. Arc they up to the mark ? 
 
 Lilian. I don't know ; but they've been there ever 
 since I cari remember. And there's the old women in the 
 Vavasour Almshouses. How they'll miss me on Wed- 
 nesdays I 
 
 IJkown. I'm afraid 1 can't make up for that disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Lilian. Well, I think tobacoo would go a long way 
 or tea. 
 
 Bko>vn. I'll try both. Anything else? 
 
 Lilian. The old thorc^tighbrcd brood mare, and Nep, 
 my black retriever — they arc past moving. And then 
 there's the old lame peacock, with one eye. I shouldn't 
 mind leaving them, if you'd promise to take great care of 
 them all. 
 
 Brown. I'll be as good as a father to them. I promise 
 you that. 
 
 Lilian. I think — what you promise you mean. 
 
 Brown. You may rely on that. Anything more? (taJcet 
 W hand) 
 
 Jiin«-,. "^^..^hing — thank you ! [pause) Good morning I 
 
 Brown. {aj}cr jiaitse) Good morning, M iss Vavasour ! 
 (^0^5 slowly up to icindow) 
 
 Lilian, [breaks down in a jit of sobbing) Oh, I can't 
 bear it ! [falls on chair ^ r. of table, c.) 
 
 Brown, [turning back, hastilj/) Miss Vavasour, why 
 have you exposed yourself and me to this ? Compose 
 yourself! 1 feel for you — all — very deeply ! [takes her 
 hand, soothingly) 
 
 (Lady Matilda appears at window, r. c, from r.) 
 
 Lady M. AVhat's the meaning of this ? [seeing the state 
 of the case, she turns rapidly tv the Buntkus, who are 
 approaching from l. sVc of windoiv) To the right, if you 
 please, Mrs. Bunter. That is the magnolia I particularlj 
 wish you to admire ! 
 
 t 
 
 Exo or TBI naiT act. 
 
ao 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene.— Cro^'wei Lawn in the ruins of Cleve Abbey. The 
 Lawnj with its clumps of bright flowers and dose-shaven 
 turfy filU the interior of the ruin — at either side are the 
 transept arches, giving glimpses here and there of the 
 parky and serving for entrance and exit — the trees grow 
 over among them — at the back, the great west window 
 arch^ with a few broken mullionsy hung with ivj/y and on 
 the R. and l. lancet windows — through all these the 
 country is seen — the great window is practicable^ beiny 
 broken away below* 
 
 Lilian, Fitz-Urse, and Fanny discovered with their 
 mallets — Lilian is about to croquet Fitz-Urse's ball. 
 
 Lilian, [croqueting) One for his heels I (sends her own 
 ball through last hoop) There, I'm a rover, (sings) I'm at 
 post, I'm at post, and the rover is free ! 
 
 Fanny. Oh, we've no chance 1 } give up the game I 
 Mr. Fitz-Urse won't help me a bit. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Come, I say, haven'tlstucktoyou like a brick, 
 going up and coming down ? But Lilian's too many for 
 us 1 Let her coach you till Brown comes back, and I'll 
 sit out. (sitSy garden seaty r., and takes out cigar case) 
 You don't mind a cigarette ? (lighting one) By Jove ! after 
 that awful Civil Service examination, one wants a sedative. 
 (lying back on seat) Now, play away, ladies ! 
 
 Lilian. Poor dear thing ! Do you know, Fanny, I'm 
 sometimes afmid he's suffering from cram upon the braia. 
 It's a very serious complaint, if it strikes in. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Very. I hope I may get over it — with 
 the help of fresh air, nourishing diet, and cheerful 
 society. 
 
 Lilian. And time. A man can't be expected to get 
 over a rush of facts to the head all at once. Now, Fanny. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, I shall be so thankful for a lesson, Miss 
 Vavasour. 
 
 Lilian. If yon »11 me Miss Vavasour again, I'll 
 croquet you beyond redemption. My name's Lilian—- juflt 
 aa much as yours is Fanny. 
 
[Act2L 
 
 Act 2.3 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 31 
 
 ^<y. The 
 yse-shaven 
 ie arc the 
 're of the 
 rees grow 
 t window 
 ^ and on 
 these the 
 '/e, beiny 
 
 ith their 
 s ball. 
 
 her own 
 •) I'm at 
 
 5 game I 
 
 i a brick, 
 nany for 
 and I'll 
 ar case) 
 c I after 
 edative. 
 
 tiy, I'm 
 e braia. 
 
 t— Witt 
 sbecrful 
 
 to get 
 Fanny. 
 ) Miss 
 
 ™, I'll 
 
 Enter Brown, r. 2 e. 
 
 Here comes Mr. Brown, I can give you a lesson both at 
 once. (Fanny gets to r. c. — Fitz-Urse, after saluting 
 I}r<iwn, goes to her) 
 
 Brown, (r.) I haven't mastered the grammar yet. 
 
 LiMAN. You are an awful muff! (Brown ^0^*5 warn- 
 inglg at her) I beg your pardon — you are very awkward ! 
 l>iit Bertie, there, will tell you what a patient master I am 
 — I didn't say " coach," did I ? — (Fitz-Ijrsk and Fanny, 
 during this conversation, have got together up^ c.) if he 
 was not so very busy telling Fanny something far more 
 interesting to both of them. 
 
 Fanny. Those dear wood-ancmonies ! Oh, do let me 
 show you where they grow! (Fitz-Urse and Fanny stroll 
 out of ruinsj r. u. e.) 
 
 Lilian. Come, you shall have the lesson all to yourself. 
 
 Brown. I'm afraid you won't have time to finish it. I 
 am obliged to run away from Cleve Abbey to-day. 
 
 Lilian. Leave us so soon ? 
 
 Brown. You forget I've been here three weeks. The 
 days have gone like a dream, somehow. 
 
 Lilian. You see, it's pleasant to be idle sometimes. 
 
 Brown. Yes — sometimes. All depends on the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Lilian. Thank you. (aside) I wonder if I'm one of 
 the circumstances. 
 
 Brown. I never thought I could have so enjoyed three 
 weeks doing nothing. 
 
 Lilian. And you really must go ? 
 
 Brown. Yes, my partners arc peremptory. Thanks to 
 the game of speculation that's now being played on all 
 sidi's, there's a prospect of what we call at Liverpool very 
 dirty weather on " 'vJiiange." 
 
 Lilian. I'm sorry for that. 
 
 Brown. Oh, there's a pleasure in storm, too — with a 
 good ship under one, and plenty of sea-room I I rather 
 likj battling with a bad time. 
 
 Lilian. If I were a man, I think I should like it too. 
 Oh, look, Mr. Brown ! there's that horrid Mr. Biascnbalg. 
 
 I3rown. With his rod and creel, as usual. 
 
^ 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 - c 
 
 Wi 
 
 LrLiAN. I wish pa]).! hadn't given him leave to fish our 
 river, lie's always fishing, and I don't think lie ever 
 catches anything. 
 
 IJitowN. 1 think I know where he wonhl be pretty suro 
 to catch something, {looking at her) 
 
 LiMAN. Oh, yes ! I've no mercy on him. Now, 
 shouldn't you say he wanted to give us the slip ? He 
 shan't though. Here! Ily! Mr. IJia.-ienhalg ! 
 
 l»i{owN. {half to hiinsclf) Well, ho docs look uncom- 
 monly like a cat that knows he's been after the chickens. 
 
 Enter HF..\si:NHALa, icith his rod in his hand and his creel 
 on his shoulders^ L. 3 k. — at the same time^ enter Si:k- 
 VANT, L. 2 i;. — he moves table and two chairs to h. I es' 
 and then takes up croquet mallets and hoops^ and goc. 
 off icith theuiy r. 3 i:. 
 
 Rlaskn. Good morning, Miss Vava.sour! Morning, 
 Brown, {salutes him) 
 
 LiMAX. I hope you've Iiad good sport, for once. 
 
 Ih-ASKN, II 'in ! so — a leotlc {easimj hi.? creel, as though 
 he felt tlic weight) 
 
 Lilian. A little ? Why, I declare you can scarcely 
 cany your basket I You never caught that weight 
 yourself? 
 
 Hlaskn. Ja ! I always fish by mine zelf. 
 
 liitow^N. {looking at hts rod) I should think you liad 
 been sjiearing them, with that uncommon stift' spud at 
 your butt. 
 
 Hlaskx. {slighthj confused) I)e spike is a plan of my 
 own, zo I can stick him in de grass and wait. 
 
 JJhown. \vi^, I've watched you. 
 
 lii-ASKN. {suspicioush/) Kh I watched? 
 
 Brown, At the w.t.er, I mean. I never .saw you 
 throw a line straight yet. 
 
 Ulaskn. Aha ! I have mein own ways to make de 
 fish bite. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, I know — it's ground bait. 
 
 Blaskn. .la, ja ! It is ground bait ! ha, ha! 
 
 Lilian. But that isn't tair fishing, {to Brown) Is it? 
 Let us look at your catch, {tries to take creel off hii 
 ihoulders) 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 3d 
 
 Blasen. {trying to prevent her — gets c.) No, no! Excuse 
 me, Miss Vav.isoiir. Mein fish f.rc too lootlc. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, wo never allow iinytliiiii; to be killctl 
 under half a poiiiul. (Vunc, turn thcin <»iit. 
 
 lii.ASKN, [still struggling to prevent t/ie opening of his 
 creel) Lectle — dat is — for salnum, l)ut l»it^ for droiit. So, 
 ganz big for drout, llininicl ! 1 must go — 1 miijjt go in 
 de drain. 
 
 Lilian. In dc drain *if 
 
 I^KowN. Wants to run to earth, like a fox. 
 
 IJLASKN. Nein, ncin ! in de tb'ain — de railway, you 
 know — back t() I Terr Ihintcr's bans. 
 
 Hkown. Oh! you've plenty of time. Come, hidy's 
 will is law here, you know ! [takes creel^ opens it, and 
 throws out lumps of ironstone) 
 
 Lilian. AVeeds and stones ! I]ut where .are tlie fisb ? 
 [looks into creel) Not so much as a tittlebat. 
 
 IJuowN. [picking up lump of ironstone) I didn't know 
 you were a geologist — eh ? ^ 
 
 Blashn. Aeli ! zo ! a leetle^ ' I look for de vlints and 
 dc slakes as was dc tools and de arms of de vor historiseh 
 mensch. Dc men who Avas before de world. 
 
 BuowN. [handling lump of ironstone) Hum ! I should 
 say the men must have l)ecn decidedly brlund the world 
 who used tools like these. Let me help you to put them 
 back, [in aiding I-Jlasknualg to refill creel, IJkuwn retains 
 some of the ironstone, unobserved) 
 
 I>LASKN. You know, Miss Vavasour, de German is vot 
 you call " in de cloud" — always for study — study, not so 
 for sport or moneymaking as de l^nglanders. (Joot <hiy ! 
 [crosses, r.) Now must 1 into de drain [aside) All is safe ! 
 
 I have blind dem ! 
 
 Exit, n. 1 i:. 
 
 JjILIAN. Now, who but a biMiighteil foreigner would ever 
 waste his time in picking up stones in that way? 
 
 Buows'. [weighing ironstone in his haiid) Some people 
 have no idea of the relative value of time and stones, [to 
 himself thoughtfiillg) As heavy as lead ! [looking off, l.) 
 See, here comes vour mamm;\. 
 
 Lilian. How bright she looks ! Isn't she a dear — kind 
 mamma? 
 
 Urown. a model for mothers. 
 
 I 
 
 if Ml 
 
 'h 
 
34 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 i! I 
 
 Enter Lady Matilda, l. 1 e. 
 
 Lady M. Ali, ISrr. Brown I ►Such news, Lilian. Fitz- 
 Ursc passed witli n}in,i; t'ttloiirs ! 
 
 Lilian. Then give luo joy, cvcryltody, f(»r T coftclicd him. 
 
 Lady ^f. [h/ssinf/ r.iiJAN) How liappy tliis must make 
 you ! {lo I>K(»wn) Titz-Ursc owes ovcrytliiiii^ U) her. 
 
 Lilian. And all tlu> [)aynR'nt I ask, is — that I maybe 
 allowed to take him the good news. 
 
 Ladv M. (!o, my love. 
 
 HkowN. Allow nu' liist. (pluck's a sprig of lattrel, and 
 places it in Lilian's luit) in the old times, when there 
 were coaches, I've heard my father ssiy, they used always 
 to stick laurels about the coach that carried news of 
 a victory. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, mamma! (laughing and sing,.,f)) "See 
 where the Conquering Hero comes." (running oj)'., l. u. e.) 
 Here, ]3ertie, 1 want you ! Exit, laughing, l. 
 
 Lady ^^. (looking proudli/ afler her) Vou can under- 
 stand how a mother must cling to such a daughter. 
 
 Brown. I should think you would quite hate the man 
 who wouM rob you of .^uch a treasure. 
 
 Lady M. Luckily, 1/ilian is still heart-whole — let me 
 hope she may huig remain .so. 
 
 JJiiOWN. Then you don't think .she has any — (pausing) 
 I meaH — .she hasn't told you — that is — I mean. 1 beg 
 your pardon, I'm afraid I can't .say what I do mean. 
 
 Lady M. For the lirst time, I should think. Come, 
 what is it ? 
 
 ]}u()wx. Fm obliged to leave you to-day. 
 
 Lady M. Leave us? 
 
 Brown. You've n^\de mo only too miieh at home 
 among you. 
 
 Lady M. Could we do less in return for your for- 
 bearance. You have laid us under obligations we can 
 never discharge. 
 
 BiK^VN. Yes, you can — you can pay any debt you 
 owe me ten times over. 
 
 Lady M. Indeed ! Only tell me how ? 
 
 Brown. Let me ask your daughter to be my wife, (hi 
 looks down as if surprised at his own audacity) 
 
[Act 2. 
 
 an. Fitz- 
 
 ^(•l»c(I Jiirn. 
 '"•-^t inuke 
 » Iior. 
 J niay bo 
 
 K'U tliore 
 
 <l always 
 
 news of 
 
 ?) "See 
 •! r- u. E.) 
 
 » lliulc.'i', 
 
 tlie man 
 -let me 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 35 
 
 causing) 
 1 beg 
 
 Come, 
 
 Ijomo 
 
 ir 
 
 for- 
 
 e 
 
 cau 
 
 t 
 
 you 
 
 
 (^i 
 
 liADY M. {aside) At last ! {aioud) Lilian, your wife ? 
 
 IJuftWN. You may well be startbd. 
 
 liADY M. I must own, tbc proposal docs take me by 
 surprise. 
 
 Urown. Ycf?, I feel bow monslrous it must sound, but 
 don't decide nf^aiust mn too ba.stily. I tliiuk I bavc some 
 reasons in my favour 
 
 Lady AL (r,.) One word, brforc yon urge tbcni. 
 (Hkown gets chairs) Have you sai<l sniy tiling to Lilly ? 
 
 JJhown. "Well, no; but I finicy in tbesc eases, men can 
 express a good dt'al more Avitli<'ut saying 
 
 JiADY ^L Liliiin, is so innoecnt ; so much wbat I was 
 at ber ngc. {both sit) Sbe bns ba<l so little of tbe bard 
 S(4io<»ling of tbe world. Ibit, tbe reasons you spoke of? 
 
 JJkuwn. I'm afraid tbey are of a kind to be best appre- 
 ciated by a man of business. 
 
 Lady AI. Suppose, for once, tbat I am a man of business? 
 
 JJkown. Tben I sliould say it's true 1 am a plain 
 Liverpool mercliant, wbose fatlu-r made bis own way in 
 tbe world, nn<l your daugbter is a young lady of old 
 family, and bigb eonnexi(»ns ; tbat I am an ordinary man, 
 (»f tbirty-tbrce, witb my life settled in its grooves, and 
 sbe's a ebarming girl of eigbteen witb all tbe world before 
 ber to cboose from. Jtut, on tbe otber band — {pauses 
 Keally, I don't like to blow my own trumpet. 
 
 Lady >L (Hi, be as candid witb me as I should bo 
 with you under tbe same cireumstances. 
 
 IJKOWN. If I know myself — I <'an give my wife a wbole 
 and loving beart, and it Avill be tbe bappiness of my life 
 to make ber liaj)py. 
 
 Lady M. From all 1 have seen of you, I quite believe 
 it, I do indeed. 
 
 Hrown. Tluuik you for tbat. Tben looking at tbe 
 tiling from a business point of view- 
 
 Lady M. (Mi, no, no— really a mother can't look at 
 
 marriage in 
 
 tbat 
 
 way 
 
 linowN. Even marriage has it's business side. 
 Lady M. "Well — go on — tbongb I protcst- 
 
 IJuDWN. There's a good deal to be s;iid in favour of my 
 offer — profits averag*; liftecn tbousand a year, and tbe 
 house is as biife as the bank. I'm your mortgagee. i5o long 
 
 ■rf«lr,l.iMl^i»i..!r^ 
 
Z6 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 as I don't absolntoly Avant the money, I sliould never 
 insist on jn-lncipal or interest, or even say I bouj^'lit 
 Clcvc Abbey. 1 slioiild settle it on my wife, and you 
 could go on living here as if nothing had liaitpened. 
 
 (Lady Matilda, during this speech requires an effort 
 to conceal her satisfaction^ as each of her objects 
 is realized) 
 Well, don't y<Mi think there is something in what I've 
 said — from a business point of view, you know? 
 
 Lady M. And ytm eall tliat a business point of view? 
 
 Hkown. \N'lint do you eall it? 
 
 Lady M. One of tlie most unselfish and generous offers 
 ever made for a woman. 
 
 Brown. AVell, it never struck me there was anything 
 out of the way in my proposition. 
 
 Lady M. In jxiint of fortune you are all we could 
 desire in a son-in-law, and your generosity has .swept 
 away every objection I should, naturally, have raised on 
 the score of position or family. 
 
 JJuowN. Then I have your consent to speak to Lilian ? 
 
 Lady M. Yes, and my best wishes. 1 fear Mr. Vavasour 
 will have a strong }n"i'judice against the marriage, chiefly 
 on social grounds ; but 1 hoi)e to satisfy him that these 
 present no really insuperabl(> diniculty. 
 
 Brown. I'm glad you think that. 
 
 Lady M. Yes ; I have little doubt — with the aid of my 
 experience and our family connection — of course you 
 would live in 'J'own during the season 
 
 JJuowN. Eh ? (looking kecnh/ at her^ as if about to 
 interrupt her^ but on second thoughts refrains and lets 
 her go on) 
 
 Lady M. "With ti good house in the right situation, and 
 the entree into .society, we could secure for you — and a 
 circle of acquaintances judiciously chosen. Oh, by the 
 way, liavc you ever thought of getting into Parliament ? 
 
 Jh;#WN. Is there any man with a head on his shoulders, 
 and a good balance at liis bankers, who has not sometimes 
 thought of getting into l^irliament ? 
 
 Lady M. {regrelfullg) Ah, the House is within the 
 range of most ambitions now. JJearholm is a family seat, 
 or we might fall back on the IShurtlands interest, at 
 
[Act 2. 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 37 
 
 iild ncvor 
 1 boii^'lit 
 
 and you 
 ed. 
 
 an pffiirt 
 \cr objects 
 
 ^Imt I've 
 
 f view ? 
 
 )us offers 
 
 anything 
 
 i^e could 
 IS swept 
 aised on 
 
 Lilian ? 
 
 avasour 
 
 chiefly 
 
 it those 
 
 of my 
 
 sc you 
 
 )oiU to 
 id lets 
 
 11, and 
 and a 
 )y the 
 t? 
 
 Iders, 
 itimos 
 
 1 the 
 seat, 
 t, at 
 
 Muckinficld. I've no doubt we could bring you in for — 
 let's sjiy two thousand. There's a purity party in the 
 place, so I'm afniid it couldn't bo managed for less. 
 
 I^KOWN. I sliould call that dirt chenp. 
 
 Lai>y M. Once in the House, xi^w are too sensihle a man 
 to be always chattering about what you do not understand. 
 
 IJiioWN. Well, tiiats not my theory of a member's duty. 
 I believe it's the practice witli a groat many, tlioiigli. 
 
 Lady M. You would sjuak seldom, and oidy on 
 rpiestions of trade <»r commerce — subjects you may be 
 Mipposed to comprehend. 
 
 IJkown. I'm glad there's something I've a right to an 
 opinion on. What a pity you can't be a member. 
 
 Lady M. Owt turn may rtune. 'i'lien, in a few sessions, 
 with the IJearholm and Sh<>rt!;uids influence, it's quite on 
 the cards that we might manage for you one of the, com- 
 mercial otHces — say, tla; IJoard of Trade, or the Civil 
 J^ordship of the Admiralty. They're always calling out 
 for men of business there. 
 
 I5i:«)wx. Ah ! that coming man — who never seems to 
 be forthcoming. 
 
 Ladv >L Lilian will do the honours of her house 
 charmingly. 
 
 Urowx. That she will. 
 
 Lady M. That gives immense prestige to a rising man. 
 (Lilian sings without, l.) Look, here comes Lilian. (///''// 
 rise) Good-bye and good-speed ! {gives him her hand) 
 You have my full sanction, and I think I may even ven- 
 ture to answer for iier father's. 
 
 IJrown. You're sure you're not answering for too much ? 
 
 Lady M. Oh, yuu may rely upon it, I never take 
 more upon myself Ihan 1 can carry cuit ! /v:v7, l. 1 k. 
 
 Bbown. Don't you, my lady ? Well, considering all 
 you've just promised and vowed in my name, I shouhl 
 eay godfathers and godmolliors were supertkiitics. 
 
 Ife-enfer Lilian, r.. c. 
 
 Lilian, (r.) There, I've left Bertie so happy, and 
 eased 
 
 i 
 
 a 
 
 s he was. Do you know, I 
 
 Faimy seemed as pi 
 
 think that's a case. I'm so glad — for Bertie's sake. It'll 
 
 take the selfishness out of him. 
 
M 
 
 KEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 THROWN. Or iniiltlply it liy two. I sometimes thinly 
 when two j)Coi)l(' arc very loud of each otlnjr, tlioy don't 
 care a bit nlxnit niiyliody elso. 
 
 Lilian. <)1i, tiuit's not iny idea of love I I should 
 think it ought to be the most nnscdfish of feelings. Its 
 greatest joy, the gi-ving up of one'.s own life to be absorbed 
 
 and guided by another ! Tiie right man, of course 
 
 (pauses) 
 
 JJuowN. Lilian ! (Lilian starts) I beg your pardon, 
 Miss V^avasour. 
 
 Lilian. I like Tiilian better. 
 
 ]Jkown. I told you I was going to-day? 
 
 Lilian. Yes, and I told yon I was very sorry. 
 
 IJitowN. I believe that. Will you believe mc as I 
 believe you ? 
 
 Lilian. I have always believed you. You never chaff, 
 as most men do now. 
 
 Urown. I like serious things said seriously. I've a very 
 serious thing to say to you — the morst serious a man can 
 say to a woman. Lilian, I love you! (Lilian starts) 
 You may well turn away. Tell me it's out of the question, 
 and put me out of my misery. 
 
 Lilian. (.s7//y) Ls it such misery ? 
 
 ]3hown. To feel that I've made you uncomfortable, and 
 myself ridiculous? 
 
 Lilian. To know that you have made mc very proud 
 and very ha])py. [r/ives h her hand) 
 
 IJrown. Kow, don't play with mc. [sits quickly hj her 
 side, h.) Is it true? (I^ilian is about to answer) i)on't 
 speak hastily. You are kind and generous. You have 
 seen how my heart was growing to you — only as a man's can 
 grow whoso capital of love has never been dribbled away 
 in the small change of Hivtatioii. Jiccausc I love you very 
 much, you an- ready to love nu' a little ! I am old, com- 
 pared to you ; not bred in youi world. You may repent. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, no, I should never do that ! [gives him her 
 hand) 
 
 JJrown. [faking her fondlij in his amis, and kissing her) 
 My darling ! 
 
 Lilian, [after a fang pause) Now, tell mc — when did 
 you begin to love me ? 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 89 
 
 Brown. The day T oamn hero. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, you old dmlin;^ ! 
 
 Urown. I wanted to sue tlic ^tiopcrty before T bid for it — 
 
 Lilian, (looks at hlin) V.U ? 
 
 Hrown. Oh, I doii't mean you, di^arcst! I felt a kind 
 of remorse ; and Avhen you so .^weetly confided to me the 
 old place, and the old people, and the old peacock, and 
 then at last fairly broke down, thorfc tears showed your 
 iieart and won mine. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, I did struggle so hard to keep tlicm under! 
 JJut I'm glad I cried, now. Have you spoken to mamma? 
 
 JJkown. Yes — Lve iier full consent. In fact, she's 
 been kind enough to plan our married lit"e for us. My 
 trade mark is to be got rid of, as burglars punch the 
 cypher out of plate. I'm to be put into the retining-p<>t 
 and recast into a fme gentleman, with a scat in I'arlia- 
 ment, and a post under (jovernment. 
 
 Lilian. But I don't want you recast. I like you better 
 in the rough. 
 
 BuowN. I'm glad of that. I'm proud, liilian, of being 
 a British merchant, and so was my father before me. I'd 
 rather sc« my name at the head of the Liverpotd Exchange 
 List, tluin at the tail ©f the fashionable intelligence in 
 the Morning Post. 
 
 Lilian. 1 like to liear you say that. 
 
 BuowN. It isn't that I value money for money's sake, 
 Lilian. But think of it's nobler uses. To relieve suffering 
 and to comfort sorrow — to feed the lamp of learning, and 
 to strengthen the hand of art — to foster into fruit the seeds 
 of promise, that neglect might kill — and to crown with 
 comfort the head grown gray in worthy service. 
 
 Lilian. I never so wanted to be rich before. 
 
 Brown. I warn you — you'll have a rival. 
 
 Lilian. A rival ! 
 
 Brown. The oflice ! However much I love you, I feel 
 I must stick to business still. 
 
 Lilian. But we should be in London part of the year, 
 shouldn't we ? 
 
 Brown. Our home would be in Liverpool. 
 
 Lilian. But you would like to be in Parliament, wouldn't 
 you? 
 
 
 ^ 
 
40 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 BnowN. Yes, as soon ns iny own buslnoss can spare 
 me for that of tli(! nation ; but it' I did f^o into the House, 
 it would 1)0 to forward the public work, not my jn'ivattj 
 interest. Lilly, you know now what you will have to 
 expect with niu — an honest man's love, a fortune that 
 will enable me to help y(jur parents, and a home ns happy 
 as aflection can make it. I'm proud of the name of a 
 Hritish meivluuit, and married or bingle, I mean to ludtl 
 to it. 
 
 Lilian. I'm not afraid to share the life you ofTer me. 
 I can bring you nothing but myself. 1 know you will 
 bear with mo till I become what your wife should be. 
 (she gives him he^- hand — both rise — he clasps her in his 
 arms) 
 
 Urown. My own sweet Lilian, at last ! Oh, I am so 
 liappy ; I feel as if I had jumped from the rock of 
 (Jibraltar, and come down on a sea of feather beds. I'm 
 the proudest, happiest — hang it, here's somebody coming ! 
 
 Lilian. Ikrtie and Fanny. 
 
 IJuowN. We don't want anybody just now. 
 
 Lilian. No I How stupid of them to go spooning 
 about in that way. Exeunt^ quicklij^ l. 1 i:. 
 
 Fitz-Urse and Fanny stroll in from R. c. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Yes. I hope old IJearholm's interest will get 
 mc into the F. 0. 
 
 Fanny. What is the F. ? {sits on hit of ruin, tip r.) 
 
 FiTZ-U. (sitting on her L.) 'i'he Foreign OHicc — the 
 thing in offices. None but swells at the l'\ 0. — come at 
 one and go at seven. Asked ever} where — up to every- 
 thing. There's only one thing, F. 0. is so dcucedly 
 expensive. Salary won't keep a fellow in cigar.s and 
 cau-de-colognc. I say, Miss Bunter, I've just been 
 thinking 
 
 Fannv. Oh, do tell me. 
 
 FiTZ-U. 1 sometimes wish 1 was one of those oti «• 
 fellows. 
 
 Fanny. What other fellows ? 
 
 FiTZ-U. The fellows that make the things in tho 
 commercial intelligence. Tha cotton twist, you know, 
 
 and the 
 
 grey 
 
 shirtin 
 
 gs. 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 KEW mi:n and old aCues. 
 
 41 
 
 I'anny. INfr. FIl/,-Urst', I drti'st thv. conjnicroial intcUi- 
 piMUH', nud I don't cvi-ii know what ^icy Iiirtiii;^.s are. 
 
 F1T/-IJ. No inon; do f, haven't lui idea — only I bco 
 they Ki'cni j^'cMie rally "lively" in the pajjer.s you know. I 
 mean I wish I wa« a nioney-niakiiif; fellow myself. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, no, no. What inspiration can there bo 
 in " Sn^ar is ;i;oin,i; down," and " Lead is getting up," and 
 •• Money is tight?' 
 
 FiTZ-T. Oh, yes, it's a curious fact, money always ts 
 tight. One ean't screw any of it out of anybody without 
 an awfnl amount of pressuro. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, if yon ktuw how I loathe money. 
 
 FiTZ-F. Do you though? 
 
 Fanny. Fvc; .seen so nuieh of it. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Ah, I haven't, you know. 
 
 Fanny. I have been so made to feel it's miserable 
 insuflicieney. 
 
 Frrz-lJ. Fvc been made to feel that too. 
 
 Fanny, (iive me art and intelleet, sweetness and light, 
 you know — a cottage and a crust — a lovely landscape and 
 the " Stones of Venice." Oh, I could live upon Kuskin ! 
 
 {rises and crosses to l.) 
 
 FiTZ-U. (rises) By Gad ! That would come cheaper 
 than the co-operative stores. {(Imvn, n.) I say, Fanny, 
 you don't mind my saying Fanny — do yon, Fanny? 
 
 Fanny, (sofi/i/) No! 
 
 FiTZ-U. Then, I say, Fanny, look here, if a fellow 
 without a raj), just going in ui)on ninety pounds a year, 
 you know, with nothing but his brains to look to in the 
 world, was to say, " AVill you marry me, Fanny? What 
 would 1/ou say ? 
 
 Fanny. Oh, Mr. Fitz-Urse. 
 
 irz-U. If /said so, Fanny, what would you say? 
 Fanny. Oh, I really don't know how to answer "ifs,'* 
 FiTZ-U. Well, then, 1 do say oo without an "if," anft 
 4»jW, what do you say ? 
 
 Fanny. Oh, Mr. Fitz-Ursc. {blushing and turning away) 
 FiTZ-U. I say, say Jjcrtie ! 
 Fanny. Mertie ! 
 
 FiTz-r 
 
 Fann 
 
 That's "Yes?" 
 >oftli/) Yes I 
 
'i 
 
 I 
 
 i% 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACREfl. 
 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I' 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 FiTZ-U. There's nobody in sight — if you wouldn't 
 mind it. (kisses her) Oh, th.-it's awfully jolly, give us 
 another, [kisses her) You'll never leave mo for another 
 fellow ? 
 
 Fanny. Never I 
 
 FiTZ-U. Oh, bu* I say, what will your governor say ? 
 
 Fanny. I think I could coax papa. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Tell him I've passed. Say it's awfully difficult 
 — takes no end of brains, and such lots of cram. And, 
 I say, it can't do any harm if you tell him I've a chaoce 
 of a handle to my name — a title, you know. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, how very interesting I 
 
 Frrz-U. Yes, I may be Lord Bearholm one of 
 these days. 
 
 Fanny. Papa's a great Radical ; a title will go a long 
 way with him, I expect him here to-day, to U»ke mc 
 home. 
 
 FiTZ-U. r)h, hang it ! don't go to-day. 
 
 Fanny. You will be sorry ? 
 
 Frrz-.i. Oh, awfnl ! 
 
 Fanny, [very tenderly) Will you gather me ?. flower^ 
 one littU; flower ? 
 
 FiTZ-U. Arc you particular what it is? 
 
 Fanny. No. 
 
 FiTZ-U. AVill you have it wild, or — tame? 
 
 Fanny. AVild! 
 
 FiTz-U. [galhcrs flower from hed^ R.) There — there's 
 a dandelion. Now, what is it for? 
 
 Fanny. That I may jdace it next my heart, as a sweet 
 souvenir of the j»!ace — the tini'^ 
 
 FiTZ.-U. And the '' party"- -eh, Fanny? {instnuatinfjili/) 
 
 Fanny. Oh, mybel(»vi>d! 
 
 FiTz-U. (Ml, give mo another kiss! {kisses her^ and 
 exeunt lovingly, k. 1 e.) 
 
 Enter Lady Matilda anr/ Vav a our, l. 2 e. 
 
 Lady M. You may rely upon me, Marmadukc. {sees 
 Fitz-Uhse and Fanny off, u.) Isn't that IJenie with 
 Fanny ? 
 
 Vavas. Yes, they seem very confidentiaL (suddenly) 
 By Jove I 
 
Act 2.] ne'w men and old acres. 
 
 43 
 
 Lady M. (cahnl>/) Eh ? 
 
 Vavas. AVhy, he's pjot his arm round her waist t 
 
 Lapy M. (looking through her eye-glass) So I see. 
 
 Vavas. Wy George ! he's kissed her. 
 
 Lady ISL Twice ! I think, my clear, it's hwdly fair to 
 wateh tliem. 
 
 Vavas. Well, I don't know, considering that the f^iVs 
 here on a visit. 
 
 Lady M. And what else do you suppose I allowed 
 Lilian to ask her for ? 
 
 Vavas. What! Invite a girl to your house, that she 
 may take shadv walks, with a young fellow's arm round 
 her waist ? Well ! 
 
 Lady ^L I hrought her here that she might act as a 
 luiffer between liertic and Ulian. The prospect of the 
 title's uneertain, and even if Bertie came into it, he's too 
 silly, and the property too small to trust Lilian's hap- 
 piness to. 
 
 Vavas. I see. What one may call "natural selection." 
 Money and rank — lirown and Lilian ; rank and money — 
 lierticand Fanny lUmtcr. Well, I suppose you know best. 
 
 Lady M. A few thin<j;s, perhaps, 1 do. Marriage is 
 one of them. What other combination could fulfil all 
 the requirements so perfectly ? Your extrication from 
 (linienlties — Liliaii's settlement — our credit in the county 
 — all secured at one coup^ and an excellent husband for 
 Lilian. Come, eome, Marmaduke, smile. 
 
 Vavas. No — hang it, Matilda! I'm willing to swallow 
 the black draught — bn)wn, 1 should say — if you insist on 
 it, but don't ask me to look as if I liked it. 
 
 Lady M. 1 like it, Marmaduke. Now, go, give them 
 your consent and your blessing, and don't look so wretched 
 about it. 
 
 Enter Sbckeb, l. 1 e. 
 Ah, Mr. Seeker ! 
 
 Skck. (lood morning 1 I tliought I should find Brown 
 here. Here are some letters lor him. [crosses to c.) 
 
 Vavas. (crosses to i.., and taking letters) I'rom Liver- 
 pool, and marked " Important " and " Immediate." (crosses 
 to K., at back) I sue. Why, the po^itmark's three 
 days old I 
 
NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 
 If 
 
 Seck. (c.) Yes, those idiots at "The Fleece" never 
 thought of forwarding them. Luckily, I saw them in 
 the bar. 
 
 Lady M. (k.) Afr. Vavasour was just going to look fur 
 Mr. Brown, liut first, Mr. Seeker, 1 must ask you to 
 congratulate us. 
 
 Seck. I do congratulate you, heartily. What for ? 
 
 Laoy M. All our difficulties are at an end. Mr. Brown 
 has proposed for Lilian. (Vavasoltr groans) 
 
 Skck. (aside) llookod him, by George! {aloud) And 
 you've consented in spite of the business blemish, eh ? 
 
 Vavas. {seated on garden scat, R.) Yes. I^ilian is 
 very fond of him, and this is no common man, let me 
 
 tell you. To .say nothing of his money, he has 
 
 {glancing at Lady Matilda) 
 
 Lady M. Fine temper 
 
 Vavas. And a g<'nerous disposition, you must allow that. 
 
 Seck. I -don't know a man of more worth, or worth 
 more, lie comes ojt botli ways. I said if anybody 
 could set tilings straight, you would — and you've done 
 it beautifully, lie's a lucky fellow. He'll have a 
 charming wife. 
 
 Vavas. And an incomparable mother-in-l.aw. 
 
 Exeunt Sixkku and Vavasour, l. 2 e. 
 
 Enter Gantry, l. 1 e. 
 
 Gant. l^fr. and Mrs. Buntcr, my lady, come to fetch 
 Misis Bunter home, and the (jierman gentleman. 
 
 Lady M. SIiow them here. There's some pleasure in 
 receiving the.ie people now — one can enjoy tlu'ir vulgarity 
 in the pleasant assurance that Clcve Abbey is safe from 
 their clutchea. 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mns. Bunter and Blasenralo, l. 1 e. 
 
 {affably) So gind to see you. 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. How do you do, Lady Matilda, this beau- 
 tiful day ? 
 
 Lady M. So sorry you are going to rob us of dear Fanny. 
 
 Bunt. Yes, Lady Matilda, punctuality is my principle. 
 Fanny is duo at Beaumanor Park by 1*30 sharp, ih«t'i 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 45 
 
 
 the time I fixed, and tliat's the time to be kep*. So, 
 Maria, if you sec that she's packed 
 
 Lady M. SIjc has just gone lor a stndl iu the Park 
 with my neplicw. Suppose \\c went in search of 
 them y 
 
 Mrs. niNT. Proud my lady, B., why don't you hoff'er 
 my Lady Matihhi yo\.r harw f 
 
 JJlnt. Maria — I was a f:?oing to. [offers his arm) Will 
 you alh)W me, Lady Matil<hi ? 
 
 liLASKN. {aside lo him) Stay — telcgi*ams — look ! 
 
 Bunt, {looking (ff, l. 1 k.) Ali, that's the w«)rst of a 
 position, my hidy, it's always a following you in de])pyta- 
 tionSf or testimonials, or telegrams, or something. 
 
 Enter Messkngkr, l. 1 e., icith telegrams. 
 
 For me, my good man? (Mkssenoku //r/nr/s several tele- 
 grams to JJiNTEii) Botiier them wires, they're down on 
 you like a flash oF lightning. You can wait, my man. 
 '{gives telegrams to Br.Asr.NHAi.c) 
 
 Mf.ssksoer. I've some dispatches here for Mr. Brown, 
 my lady. 
 
 Lady M. Then follow me. Come, Mrs. Bunter, 
 (Messenoeu goes vp^ l.) 
 
 Mrs. Bunt, {who has been looking at garden) I can 'ardly 
 drag myself away from this sweet i^ot. I've often said 
 to B., '' Wiiy don't you have our place laid out in ruins 
 like the llabbey," havent I, B ? 
 
 Bunt. You 'ave Maria, and my regular an-swer to the 
 remark has been, "Maria, don't be ritlieulous." 
 
 Lady M. Ah, there are things money cannot buy, old 
 trees, old ruins, old family j)ictures, and »dd fanuly pride. 
 You must leave us poor county folks something, to sot 
 against your overwhelming advantiiges. This way, Mrs. 
 Bunter. 
 
 Exeunt Mrs. I^untcr and Lady Matilda, followed 
 hy Mi:ssr.N(JER, n. .'1 e. 
 
 Bunt. 1 don't like that woman. Sometimes I feel as 
 if fihe was insulting of me, and sometimes as if she was an 
 'umbugging of me, and 'umbng is my aversion, {to 
 Blahexualo) Now, B., what's the news ? 
 
 ^LAS£N. {who has opened telegram) " From the Mana|;er. 
 
 ! 
 
 i ■ i 
 
 i " '■i 
 
 
 
 i 
 
46 
 
 NEW »fES AN'D OI-D ACRES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 li 
 
 Diddlescx Joint Stock. Kecoived Forty thousaml. Prlco 
 of Shares in Umlerliaiul ami (Joldney. Asks direction 
 for investineiit." {looks at another telegram) llimmel ! 
 Stuninvetter ! 
 
 Bunt, {severely) Mr. 1?., I've roKvon to believe that'll 
 profane swearing, though in the German huignage. I 
 must beg you "won't imhilge in it afore nn; ; swearing, 
 even in unknown tongues, iirts my feelings ns a (.'heristiau. 
 
 Ulaskn. I was only swearing for thankfulness. Vou 
 shall swear, for thank your lurk, when you liear this. 
 (reach) " Stock Kxeliange, iMO. Mreat excitement. 
 Underhand and (JoUlney reported slu.ky. iJcars at work.'' 
 
 liuNT. The devil ! 
 
 Blaskn. That's Engli.sh ! (reads) "Reported liabilities — 
 Four millions. Awful panic. Nothing like it since ''2H." 
 
 Bunt. How providential I'd sold out the day before. 
 r. . tiled — nothing can hit nic very hard. 
 
 Br.ASEN. How lucky we closed our speculative account 
 for last settling <lay. {reads another telegram) '' I'anic 
 spread to Manchester and Liverpool. Ten brokers 
 stopped. Ivi'own, Jones Brothers, hard hit, and reported 
 
 Bunt. Brown, Jones, Brothers ! Why, that's Sam 
 Brown, their mortgagee — the party as they've been bottling 
 here for that girl of theirs — the party that stands between 
 mo and this magnificent irou-tield. 
 
 Blasen. Say between " us," Herr Bunter, I vound him. 
 
 Bunt. Ye.s, you found it, and I'll fmance it, and we'll 
 share the profits. (Blasenbalg appears absorbed in calcu- 
 lations — holding his fingers up) What do you mean by 
 that ? {imitating him) 
 
 Blaskn. I wa.s thinking out the prospectu.«» of the 
 *' Clcvc Abbey Hematite Mining and Smelting Company, 
 Limited, Inexhaustible s.ipply of dc raw material." 
 
 Bunt. "Enormous demand f "the mannfacturcdarticle." 
 
 Br.Asr.N. *' Do Great Midland Joal-field in de immediate 
 naechbarhood." 
 
 Bunt. " Railway and Canal carriage withiu easy 
 diiitance." 
 
 Blaskn. Oh, beautiful ! Ilu.sh, here's Brown I 
 
 Bunt. Oh, Brpwnl {they retire behind u pillar^ Irt 
 grooves) 
 
Sam 
 
 the 
 
 nmy, 
 
 •le. 
 
 If 
 
 Ut 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 47 
 
 Re-enter Brown, r. 1 e., excited — letter and tekgratns in 
 
 his hand. 
 
 Brown. Am I awake or asleep? Which can be true, 
 what 1 was saying, seeing, and hearing half-an-hour since, 
 or the terrible news of the last few minutes ? Hniu 
 hanging over our house by a tln-ead ! Had Ihese letters 
 reached me in due time, 1 should have been there in the 
 midst of it all, and what could I have d«>ne, I coiddn't 
 have stemmed the panic, but I might have done my best 
 to hold the old house against it — I fear it's too late now. 
 (looks at telcffrant) 'V\\vy nnist have twenty or thirty 
 thousand within twenty-four hours to save the concern, 
 and that was twelve hours ago. My poor Lilly, good bye 
 to you and all my hopes, {sits on chair., r. c, and hides 
 his face in his hands) 
 
 Blaskn. {up L. « . to BrNTER) That forty thousand in de 
 bank make him a bid for tlu; mortgage deed. Vava&ours 
 can't pay off. Cleve Abbey is yours ! 
 
 Bunt, {squeezing I'f-askn'ualg's hand) Bless you, my 
 German, {coming down, and sits hjf IJuown's ^''e, l.) 
 This is awful news, Brown, awful! It should teach us 
 how unstable are the foundations of earthly prosperity. 
 An 'ousc of sand, my friend — an 'ouse of sand. They 
 tell mc you're hard hit. 
 
 liuowN. Very liard. 
 
 Bunt. You liave my sympatliy, sir — my Cheristian 
 sympathy. 
 
 J5kown. Thank you for your symj)athy. But what wo 
 want is ready money; precisely what nobody Avill advanec 
 at sueh a moment. 
 
 liUNT. J)on't undervalue your species! There's them 
 that always 'as an 'and for the distressed, and an 'cart for 
 the 'elpless. AVhat do yoii want ? 
 
 JbtowN. Do you mean to say that you'll help us ? 
 
 JiUNT. AVhnt do you want ? 't)w nnieli ? (i ive it a name. 
 
 liiiowN. They tell me forty thousand pounds might tide 
 us over the worst, lint it nmst be had at once. 
 
 Bunt. And money is wr.rtli anything just now. I'll let 
 you have the lorty thousand pounds if you'll transfer the 
 Clevc Abbey mortgage to rac. 
 
 : 
 
 1 I 
 
 I 
 
is 
 
 ilEW MEN AND OLD \ORES. 
 
 [Act 2 
 
 ' 
 
 II 
 
 Brown. As an aclvancc, you mean ? 
 
 Bunt. No; a price. I never lend--! buys. 
 
 Brown. It's a dead loss of five; thouBand ponnds. But 
 I've no choice. Minutes arc worth millions just now. I 
 accept your terms, {both rise) 
 
 Bunt. Benjamin IJunter ain't the man to let a friend 
 go down without flinginjj; hiui a rope. 
 
 Bi.ASEN. {aside) And cliargiug him five thousand pounds 
 for the accommodation. 
 
 Bunt. 1 want no thanks. Tools, B. {to BLASENnALO— 
 he gives him portable inkstand and pen — J?untek Jills up 
 cheque from his cheque book) The consciousness that I've 
 done my duty by a fellow creature is its own reward. 
 
 liiiASEN. {aside) And the man half believes it himself. 
 It's vonderful, voudcrful ! 
 
 Bunt, {still JiUing cheque at l. table) Ah, it ain't many 
 at such a moment, that can look into their 'carts and their 
 banker's books, and ask the one if the other can stand 
 forty thousand to help a fellow creature, {gives cheque 
 to liaowN) 
 
 Brown. If Mr. Blasennali'; will come with me to Seeker 
 I'll give him the deeds. You have made a hard bargain, 
 but what's five thousand pounds for salvage of our good 
 name — if only we can save H Exit^ R. c. 
 
 liuNT. {exultant) I've doi.p the trick, my boy, and a 
 good action into the bargain, {crossing, l.) 
 
 Blasen. Yes, you have made a first-rate operation. 
 (going up, c.) And drawn against providence for an act of 
 charity. Talk of the .lews ! It's only you Christians 
 manage to get interest like dat. Exit^ r. u. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Matilda, n. 1 e. 
 
 Lady M. I'm going to see about some of our rare 
 jdants for Fanny. 
 
 Bunt, (r.) Thank you. I 'ope Fanny's been all she 
 aliould be during her wisit at the Abbey? 
 
 Lady M. (u.) Oh, yes! I like her extremely, and 
 Lilian and she are great friends. 
 
 Bunt. Ah 1 1 dare any they understand each other. 
 Now, I don't profess to understand Fanny. It seems ard 
 * man shouldu t understand hia own child — don't it ? I've 
 
ition. 
 
 |\ct of 
 
 itians 
 
 K. c. 
 
 rare 
 
 she 
 
 and 
 
 [her. 
 
 ard 
 
 UVo 
 
 Act 2.] new men and old ACREd. 
 
 49 
 
 Fparcd nothing on that girl's education. Governesses, 
 liiiisliing schools, the most expensive masters — and tho 
 upsliot of it all is, she's quite beyond me. She's taken 
 to what they call 'igh art, and 'igh church, and 'igh other 
 things, till she gets that 'igh, you would sometimes think 
 she was never coming down again 
 
 Lady M. Ah ! I'm afraid Fanny does run a little into 
 rliodomontade now and then. 
 
 Hunt. That's the word, my laiy. To tell you the 
 truth, I was afraid of the Abbey for her. It's astonishing 
 'ow an old 'ouse, or an old pictur', or an old ruin, will 
 got into that girl's head. Ihit if ever we were to live here, 
 I'd 'avc them ruins down pretty sharp. 
 
 Lady M. Thank you. As the mm is a very old friend 
 of mine, I'm happy to think you're not going to live here. 
 
 IJuNT. Well, things quite as unlikely have happened. 
 Estates will change hands you know, and I think it's on 
 the cards that Cleve Abbey might be in the market one of 
 these days. 
 
 Lady M. Mr. Hunter ! 
 
 I3uNT. Come, between you and mc and the port, I 
 know, {puts his finger to his nose) 
 
 Lady M. Mr. iJunter, I don't understand you. 
 
 Hunt. Yes, you do. You're a deal too wide awake not 
 to — bless you, it's no secret. All the country knows it. 
 
 Lady M. Perhaps all the country docs not know, that, 
 whatever may have been Mr. Vavasour's temporary em- 
 barrasmcnts, Mr. Hrown, who has proposed for Miss 
 Vavasour, is to clear them all off. 
 
 Hunt. Hrow n is, is he ? Ah, such is life. Poor Brown. 
 
 Lady M. What do you mean by poor Hrown ? 
 
 Hunt. I mean just what 1 ^.ty, that Hrown hasn't a 
 brown left to bless himself with. Hrown, .fones Hrothcrs, 
 have gone to smash in the panic ; or, if they pull through, 
 Hrown may thank the money I've paid him for the Clevo 
 A4)bey mortgage dcctl. 
 
 Lady M. Mr. Hunter, are you mad, or intoxicated? 
 
 Bunt. Me intoxicated? Lady Matilda, I'm not in the 
 *abit of drinking afore dinner. Exit^ l. 1 e. 
 
 Lady M. The mortgage in this man's hands ! Brown 
 ruined I If tliis is true, the marriage must be broken ofT 
 
 li 
 
 Hi 
 
CO 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACHES. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 at once. Lilian's chance must bo kept open. Poor 
 fellow ! I must manage it with as little pain to him fts 
 possible. 
 
 Re-enter Hhown, l. 1 e. 
 
 I hope you got your letters anJ telegrams ? 
 
 Urown. 1 (lid. 
 
 Lady M. 1 trust you have not been inconvenienced by 
 their delay ? 
 
 JJrown. rnconvcnioiiccd ! Tiiat's not the word ; give 
 it it's right name — say nivned. 
 
 Lady M. l^uincd ! Tlicn Jhiiitoi's t(MTiblc news is true. 
 
 Brown. Yes ; it's the old story in three ciiapters, 
 Speculation — panic — ruin! At siicli a time, the iuuuccnt 
 sulVer for the guilty, It's hard linrs — hard lines. 
 
 Lady ^L It is indeed; I ivvA for you. 
 
 Brown. When I proposed to your daughter, [ was a 
 rich man. Now, 1 shall have to begin tin; world Hgaiii ; 
 and the best I can hope will be to reeon(iucr the ground, 
 inch by inch. "NVorst of all, 1 can't do what I iiad hoped 
 liorc for you. That pains me almost as much as losing 
 Lilian. 
 
 Lady M. Losing Lilian ! You ought to say Lilian 
 losing you. (sigh) Jler loss is the greater — I feel it — 
 lionestly I do. ihit you are quite right — this marriage 
 is out of the question now. 
 
 Brown. You think so then? 
 
 Lady M. Yes ; I am very, very sorry. I began by 
 looking on this marriage as a painful saerilice. 'i Ou had 
 brought me to look on it as a blessing for my girl — an 
 honour for her ianiily ! 
 
 Brown. Thank you for that, {s/iakes her hand icannb/) 
 
 Lady M. But }ou are <^uitc right. AVill you tell 
 Lilian, or shall 1 ? 
 
 Brown. Is she to have any choice '? 
 
 Lady AL {pausinf/, then yivoKj IliiowN her hand) You 
 %hall ask her. She shall be tree to answer. I sec her 
 K)ming. 1 will leave you. [crosses u., aside) I hope — I 
 think I have acted for the best. Ed:ity u. i k. 
 
 lie-enter Liijan, l. 3 k. 
 
 LiLUM. Oh, you truant ! I've cau ght 70a ftt Uat 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 KrW MKN AKD OLD ACRKS. 
 
 8i 
 
 Piip.i was so long liu^ginp nic, I {{.> believe you were 
 jciilous of liiin. An«l iin joaI<»u8, bii ^vciy jeiilous— of 
 ull tliose letters ami t«le^niins. 
 
 IJuowN. Lilian ! (she look's startled at his manner) Y«mi 
 may well be jealous of tliein. They have, built a wall 
 between you and me — for tlicy tell nic I am a mined man. 
 
 Lilian. Huined ? You ? 
 
 HuowN. By tlio chances of the time — no fault of mine. 
 
 I^ii.iAS. No fault of yours? I shrmld think not. 
 
 Browm. You accepted r rich man's otVcr — u poor man 
 has no right to insist upon tliat acceptance. 
 
 Lilian, {impetuously) Kieh or p(>or ! {suddenly pausing) 
 Oh, mamma, mamma ! 
 
 BuowN. I understand your hmks— your words — your 
 hesitation, as if I were sitting inside your heart. 
 
 Lilian. You are — you know you are ! 
 
 Brown. Shall I tell you what I hear tiiere ? {taking 
 her hand tenderly) " I do not care for money — and 1 do 
 care for this man." 
 
 Lilian. I do, I do I 
 
 Brown. '* But I am not free to follow my own inclin- 
 ation. My mother looks to my marriage to restore the 
 family fortunes. I must sacrifice my.seU." 
 
 Lilian. Oh, no, no ! 
 
 Brown. Yes, I hear that. It's only whispered, but it 
 makes itself very clearly heard. 
 
 I^ilian. Oh, must I listen to it ? 
 
 Brown. Yes, for it is in your heart, with the other 
 voices, you must decide which you will listen to ; but your 
 whole heart must speak if it is to be " V«*." 
 
 Lilian. Oh, I cannot, I caimot I {sinks tnto chair^ c.) 
 
 Brown. Then, good bye, Lilly ! It's better you should 
 say no more, nor L Heaven bless you ! 
 
 Kisses her on the forehead — then signals to Ladt 
 Matilda, who enters, u. 1 e., and goes to Liliar. 
 
 Iauam, Oh, mamma, mamma ! {tableau) 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 
 OV THB BEOOND ACT. 
 
i i 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Scene. — At the Seat of the Uunters^ Beaumanor Park. 
 A cheerful, large, exjx'usircli/, but flashily furnished 
 room — rauf/e of French windows, n., openinp at the 
 back on a conservator//, by large glazed doors — the con- 
 servatory is filled with tree ferns, palms, exotics, and 
 statues — modern pictures, in costly frames, on the walls, 
 some landscapes, some historical pictures — rich gold 
 cornices and mouldings — bright chintzes and brilliant 
 draperies, portieres, ijr. Everything in as marked a 
 contrast as possible with Cleve Abbey, in the ist Act. 
 
 Secker and Uuntku discovered at table, l., with bottle 
 of Maraschino on silver plateau — Buntek pouring out 
 to Secker. 
 
 Bunt. (r. of table) You must try my Marascliino, 
 It's a splendid article. Stands me in fifteen pounds the 
 dozon. (live me a good thing, I say, (Seckku tastes, 
 and smacks his lips) and liang tiie expense ! 
 
 Seck. (l. of table) Hang the expense! (finishes glass) 
 
 Bunt, [lying back in chair, r. of table) Now, let's 
 review the situation. Notice expires at twelve to-day. 
 Brown has transferred his mortgage to mc. If Clevc 
 Abbey goes into the market, it's worth but seventy 
 thousand— outside price. But I'vo a f{\ncy for it, and 1 
 can afford to pay for niy fancy ! So I say to you, *' Here's 
 eighty thousand down ;" you say to your client, "Take 
 Benjamin liunter's liberal offer" — and [confldentially) I 
 shouldn't at all wonder if you found a five hundred pound 
 note under your plate the next time you tucked your 
 legs under B. B 's mahogany. 
 
 Seck. Wei!, I must say, you gixat capitalists have 
 ways with you. 
 
 Bunt. And mcan««, Mr. Secker. Give a man ways 
 and means and Ciieristian principles, and there ain't many 
 things that'll stop him. 
 
 Skck. I should like to know what would Dtop you. 
 Well, Mr. Vavasour will be here by twelve 
 
 Bunt. And Brown has promised to be down with the 
 title deeds, by the express, at 11.30. 
 
Act 3.] new men and old acres. 
 
 53' 
 
 Seck. Meanwhile, Til see my client, and take his final 
 instructions. 
 
 Hunt. Exactly. After giving him yours, {winks at him) 
 
 Seck. {retuminfj the wink) llf», ha! And I've no 
 doubt wc shall tiiiish to-day's business pleasantly for 
 everyone concerned. 
 
 liuNT. Not a word of this to Lady Matilda. I don't 
 like that woman ; she's too sharp and too civil by half. 
 Would you believe it? She's driven herself and Miss 
 Vavasour over in the pony-earriage, and invited herself 
 to lunch — to-day, of all days. 
 
 Seck. Ah ! there's no accounting for ladies' tastes. 
 
 Bunt. Mind, I don't want any fuss about title I Short 
 and sharp is my motto. Money down — conveyance 
 executed — parchments handed over. 
 
 Seck. In fact, everything hurried through in tbo most 
 unlawycr-like manner. 
 
 Bunt. Exactly. So I think you and me may say 
 " Done. ' (giving him his hand) 
 
 Seck. {taking his hand, hcartihj) Done ! 
 
 Bunt. And "dune" and "done" is enough between 
 two gentlemen. Exit Secker, rfoor, l. 1 e. 
 
 I've bottled the agent! Bravo! Cleve Abbey's as good 
 as mine! [rubbing his hands) Iron-fu'ld and all — at one- 
 fourth the value ! I like bringing these county folks on 
 their marrow-bones. They turn up their noses at honest 
 industry. They look down on J$. B. — do they ? B. B.'s 
 growing too big to be looked down upon. 
 
 Enter I^lasenbalg, icith travelling bag and wrapper, 
 
 door, L. 1 E. 
 
 Ah, Blasey, my boy ! ^afe back from the great Babylon ? 
 
 Blasen. [getting rid of bag and wraps) Safe as de bank. 
 "With your leave, [helps himself to Maraschino) Ah ! 
 {smacks his lips) 
 
 ]iuNT. You've got the analysis of our ironstone ? 
 (Blasi-.nhau; nods) Satisfactory? 
 
 Blasen. (l.) Beautiful I Seventy-five per cent, of 
 iron I Near ten over what I reckon. 
 
 Bunt, (r.^ Bravo ! 
 
 Bliien. And I've had my rough map of de lodes mado 
 
 i . 
 
 I 
 
 ','- 
 
54 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Acrr 3. 
 
 m 
 
 out by a regular mining draughtsman, and it looks 
 beautiful. Hundreds and hundreds of acres of de stuff. 
 
 Bunt. While you've been looking after them in London, 
 I've been squaring the agent here. Now- 'and 'em over. 
 
 Blasen. (innocently) Vot? 
 
 Bunt. The analysis and the map, to be sure. 
 
 Blasen. Stop I Hadn't we better settle dc terms first ? 
 
 Bunt. Terms? ( Blasenbalo noc?5) Between you and 
 me, Blasey, my boy? After the years we've known each 
 other? After the many good things we've been in 
 together? After all our experiences of the blessings of 
 mutual confidence 
 
 Blaskn. And united capital I That sort of thing was 
 all very well while we were blowing bubbles : I start my 
 speculation, and I take my chance I But dis is no 
 bubble ; dis i« good solid pudding, and I vant my 
 slice of it. 
 
 Bunt. And this is gratitude ? Do you remember what 
 you were when I took you up ? 
 
 Blasen. Vot I vos ? Do you remember vot you vos 
 yourself? A poor, crawling, common-place contractor, 
 mit no idea beyond a lucky job and a paying profit — no 
 higher standpoint than the brute forces of hard work and 
 hard money. Whotaught you financing? ( IUjnter //roans) 
 Who revealed to you de modern philosopher's stone — a 
 bill-stamp? De alchemy dat transmutes fools' hopes into 
 wise men's profits, and condenses de puffs of a prospectus 
 into golden showers. Dat is vot I taught you. And now 
 he vont pay for de lesson ! 
 
 Bunt. What of my peace of mind ? Have I not paid 
 for it? Quiet sleep, and a calm conscience — that's what 
 I've paid you, Blasenbalg, and it's a heavy price for all 
 I've got by you — if it was ten times as much. 
 
 Blasen. Ah! vords, vords — but I vant hard cash. 
 
 Bunt. I thought you didn't believe in it. 
 
 Blarrn. I believe in other people's. In plain English 
 — I'm tired of being dc cat, and you de monkey. I 
 leave you to burn your fingers mit your own chesnuts, or 
 I vill be paid for getting dem out of de fire. 
 
 Bunt. Uow dare you call me a monkey? What'e your 
 6gure ? 
 
Act 3.1 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 66 
 
 id 
 
 lat 
 
 ^11 
 
 h 
 
 ll 
 Ir 
 
 IJlaskn. Two tliousatul pounds down on dc nail, for 
 the find! If wc work dc iron, half dc profits; if we 
 sell, half dc purchase money. I liavc here dc agreement. 
 
 Bunt. But the price of the estate is to oome out of my 
 pocket. 
 
 Blasen. Well, I'll owe you half de money. 
 
 Bunt. Thank you for nothing! 
 
 Blasbn. As you please. It is like it, or lump it! I T^iid 
 (Ic iron. I voUow dc lodes. I've got dc analysis and de 
 map in my pocket. I can go into de market myself. 
 Dore's lots of capitalists who outbid you hy fifty tousens. 
 
 Bunt, {sits u. of tabli\ l. c.) This is *ard I It ain't 
 that I grudge you your share in a good thing, Bla.sey, 
 my boy, but it's this dc|)lorable want of confidence 
 between man and man. [about to write cheque — pauses^ 
 and rises) Sto]) ! I've never seeu the analysis ! 
 
 Blaskn. [laiKjhwg sariUmicaU-f) " Want of confidence 
 between man and man 1" But 1 will show you. {take$ 
 analysis from liis pockety and shows it to Bunti:k) 
 
 Bunt. Yes, it's all right! {vhurkling— is about to take it) 
 
 Blasi:n. [drawing it bark — shaking his head) Ah ! a 
 bird in hand, you know 
 
 Bunt. No — how can you ? Well, if I must I must. 
 [sits K. (f table — filling up cheque) But it's taking a mean 
 advantage of one whose conduct to you has always been 
 that of a brother. 
 
 Blascn. And ain't my conduct to you that of a brother? 
 D'ye tink I'd give my brother money's worth, without 
 de money ? Ncin ! 
 
 Bunt, (giving cheque) There's your cheque, sir. 
 
 Blasen. [reads cheque to himself) " Pay to Berthold 
 Blasenbalg, or bearer," &.c. [aloud) All right! Now 
 for a vash, after my journey. I always likes to keep my 
 hands clean. 7-'.; tV, with bag, ijr, door, l. 1 e. 
 
 Bunt. Then you'd better give me back that cheque ! 
 If there was ever an ungratofwl rascal ! I wi.sh to good- 
 ness I'd never seen his lace. But I'm so far in the maze, 
 that I can't find my way out by myself. 
 
 Enicr Servant, door^ l, 1 », 
 Servant. The Clerk of the Works, sir. 
 
 n 
 
 ■ 
 
 I • ' 
 
56 
 
 NEW MKN AND OLI> ACKKS. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Enter Clkrk of Wohks, door,, l. 1 i:. — Skuvant take$ 
 plateau and bottle off table, and exit with it, h. 1 k. 
 
 UuwT. Ah, Turbii I How arc you? How is Mrs. 
 Turbit? Tliou^h I didn't r.ce her ftt cliiipol last Sabbiitli. 
 
 Clkhk. Slie has her little ones, you know, sir, keeps 
 her at home. 
 
 JiuNT. Ah, Turbit, neglect of Christian privileges ain't 
 the way to ])ring a blessing on a family. 
 
 Clkhk. I've come to ask what's to be done with l\-M 
 clamp of bricks that turned out so bad iu the north field, 
 you know, sir. 
 
 Hunt. Turned out bad ? What, they're no good for 
 the market, eh ? 
 
 Clerk, {shaking his head) Very little I'm afraid, sir. 
 The contractor for Sir Charles Tangent's model cottages 
 has sent them back on our hands. 
 
 Hunt. That's very 'ard on me, Turbit, \ery 'ard ! 
 Let's see. I'll tell you what yon can do with those 
 bricks. They're building a chapel at Scjua.sh End, send 
 those bricks to the committee of that r-hapel, as a con- 
 tribution from mc, with my blessing on the good work. 
 
 Clekk. {aside — going, L.) And the bad biicksl Ho's 
 a nice 'un, he is. Exit, door, l. I k. 
 
 Jk'NT. Ves, wealth always prospers with those that 
 knows !i«)w to use it. 
 
 Etiier Miis. litNTun. ft. r., with a parcel, down h. of 
 
 IJUNTEU. 
 
 Mks. IUnt. (radiant) Hrre it i.^ at last! {playfidly) 
 now, open your mouth and sb'it y<»nr eyes. 
 
 ni:N f. [i inpatient! 1/^ I'orhups, Maria, you call that plf^y- 
 fi'lnesa. I call it ridikalousncss. What is it? 
 
 Mkp. Ik NT. {opening ease, and taking out pedigree, 
 tmtdazoned on vellum) It's our pedigree — straight from 
 the K raid's Co" lege. 
 
 IUnt. Nonsense, Maria — all vanity. 'Ow often must 
 I remind you we ought not to be puff-ed up? 
 
 Mu8. Hrsr. But do lo»»k at it, B. {spreaiing it out) 
 Ain't it u vljcJc of a pdlijiree? 
 
 Hunt. If '\% is a duck, 1 11 bo bound Wa brought iti 
 bill with it. 
 
ik. 
 
 lies 
 
 L. 1 K. 
 
 that 
 
 Iroiii 
 
 Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 n 
 
 MRU. BfTKT. Oh, a bagatelle,, quite a bagatelle — only a 
 
 hunilicd and tliirty. 
 
 lU NT. Only a liundred and tliirty ! Hero, I've just 
 boen robbed oi' two tiiousand, given away a lot of 
 luautiful bricks — and you must pick my pocket of a 
 liundred and thirty besides! 
 
 (Mrs. Buntkr enw.sr.f, l., mid spreads out pedigret 
 on table so that IUtnthk can read it) 
 You're always doing it, Maria, {im patiently) It's the last 
 load of straws that breaks the camel's back. 
 
 Mrs. liiNT. Nonsense, IJ., it's cheap at the money. 
 Why the 'K raids College has been and found our arms. 
 
 Hunt. And I've been and found their hands in my 
 jtockcts. A hundred and thirty pounds for a bit of 
 parchment and a lot of stuff and 'umbng ! 
 
 Mrs. Hunt. Stuff' and 'unibugV Why, they prove the 
 Bunters wos Anglo-Saxons before the Conquest! 
 
 JiuNT. Well, V\\\ glad they've found that out. Tt'a 
 pleasant to know other people had ancestors as Widl as 
 them aristocrats at the Abbey, itakinii it) As I shall havo 
 to pay for it, I may as well take the bencfii. Holla! 
 What's the meaning of them painted Dutch nvcns? 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. Perhaps it'll tell you if you read ii. 
 
 Bunt, {reads) "The Bunters, an nneient Anglo-Sa/ 
 Family, settled originally about Wctliciin^ Sett, Coui. 
 of Suffolk." I wonder 'ow they knew that, I didn't. 
 "Their lands were probably confiscated by the Con- 
 queror." Very likely, you see the aristocracy was dowu 
 on us, Maria, even that early, " owing, no doubt, to tho 
 stubborn resistance of the Saxon landowner." I'm glad 
 we resisted. It was 'ighly creditable to us, under the 
 circumstances. \ dare say mo>t people of property 
 kno.'ked under. '*'] he family were not prominent under 
 tho I*Iantj»gom;ts.'' No, 1 never heard we were. A poor 
 lot them I'lantagenot Bunters. "Nor arc we aeeurat'Iy 
 infonnotl which side they espoused during the wars of tho 
 
 was ihe hitlc that eamu 
 
 pity 
 
 >P 
 
 upp<'r(!>ost. " At the Revolution we find a i»initer, parish 
 
 consfjiol*' of Wi 
 
 mmering. 
 
 V 
 
 ou sec 
 
 M 
 
 ana, we 
 
 conio 
 
 d<«.%M by that time, "and the name oe<'iirs frequently in 
 bttffulk registuri), under the first three Georges, but 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 ■' v 
 
58 
 
 NEW MKN AND OLD ACRES. [ACT 3. 
 
 
 without pnhlic function." N^o, we didn't soem to car« 
 for public finuti«»us — :i rctiiin^ fiunily, the lUintcrs 
 
 \'i 
 
 Mus. IJiNT. r»ut ain't tlur*' anytliiuf^ jihoiit vou, I 
 
 IW.NT. Ain't tliero ? Wluit do you tiiiniv ol' tiiis, Mnria? 
 
 "Tilt', present niirL'sentativu of tiio iUnnly is Iicniuniiii 
 
 IJunter, Esijuirc, lionourably known In coniu'ction with 
 
 =J 
 
 extensive public \\orks, luid tin;UK'n>! operations m all 
 parts of tlic world" That's very neatly put. '*IIe is 
 tiie only son of the late eininent Noiicoiiiionnist Divine, 
 the Uev. JJoain r^es I'unter, of Hall's Pond, Islington.'' 
 Ah, iiow proud the old man would have been, if he could 
 have read nil that, in the eoal and 'tatur .sheil where lie 
 worked all the week, afore taking the pulpit at the Sni^'gs 
 Itents, Kbcnozer. 
 
 Mrs. Hint. You don't grudge the money now, H? 
 
 Bunt. Well, consid<'ring all the trouble they must 
 have taken to find out hII them \\\ciA about the Hunters, 
 from the Anglo-Saxon before the ( onquest, d )wn to 
 Ball's Pond, I di)n't mind; but you really muat go back 
 to my Lady Matilda. 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. I say, B., she's been at me again about 
 her nephew and I'anny. 
 
 Hunt. It won't do, 1 toil you. The young fellow 
 hasn t a rap. 
 
 Mrs. Ml NT. But Huppi>8e lie was to eotu.- into ilie title, H? 
 
 Bunt. Suppose bis aunt's baby sh uld be a boy? 
 
 Mus. Bint. We shall soon kuovv. Whatever it nay 
 be, it's expt i.d .very day, I'm told. 
 
 Bint, iiciween you and me, Mari.i^ I've tipped the 
 doctf)r's eonlideiitial in:;n to telegii^ the recall. 
 
 Mrs. Hi NT. It it's i girl 
 
 Bunt. Tii'io enough to talk about that, wK« i\ the little 
 event conn - off. (..rf.v l4.\nv M atiuu in rovyra/ory^ r.) 
 Lo(d«, there's 'uy lady, iookiu^^ as pleasant us if nothing 
 DQiue than luneheon wa^ »,.>..^:,,^ ^,y^,^ f^.j. J^j^.], 
 
 Miii>. Hi NT. I mu^t ... ;> lier (hem new Hi^Honia^. 
 Kdt inti) co)wrr<itort/^ r., H'krrttHtcr Lady M.\Tii.i>A, 
 Lilian owl Tanny 
 Bunt, Ah, my la ly's uneommoidy eivil since she knew 
 I held the inoi dee-L She il find I'm not .so ea^if 
 
 'umbugged a)^ j.iu>ui. 
 
 Hi 
 
 '• (jiie 
 W.-ll, 
 
 " ra> 
 
 " .Mr 
 
 '• (ill 
 is ol 
 h ast, 
 .s<'uud 
 li.ivin: 
 
Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACUES. 
 
 59 
 
 low 
 
 ', n^ 
 
 i\' 
 
 tilt' 
 
 
 Enter Skkvant, l. 1 e., icilh telegram on salver. 
 
 Servant. Telegram, sir, nihl ijo ajjswcr. 
 
 Gh-es tehyrmn, and exit, L. 1 E. 
 
 IluNT. {rfadinq cnrclope a/ (clrf/nnn) *' Vou arc rc- 
 " (|nc.st('d not to ^ive tlio inc.s.son;,'rr any ^latinty." 
 AVrll, I wasn't ^oin;^ to. (npcnn tclrgnim and rrads) 
 •* Tasliionaljlc Intelligence. — llirtlis. — Tiio Honorable 
 " Mrs. lu'L'iiialil I'itz-rr.sc, twi.is!" mlarh) VAx'i [reads) 
 ••dills." (Jiris/ Tlicn I don't mini liow many there 
 is of tlicni. Tliey can't sit in the IInn>cof Lords, at 
 hast, not yet. My son-in-law, Lord IJcarholm! It does 
 scuinl imposin.!^. Next to htin^ a lord one's self is 
 li iving a lord in the laniily. The ladic.-?. 
 
 Kufer Tmdy MATir.nA and }\\\\». HtNTKic, k., Lif.ian and 
 Fannv (JO into Conservator//^ ami remain convtrsinrf. 
 
 Lai»y M. (looking round her) Very gor^rons indeed. 
 Such a brilliant glos« <r ncwn«vss upon everything. 
 
 .Mica. IUnt. ^ es, Dnnter likes to ^eo things Kj)ick and 
 span. Iih^s.s you 1 Ilc'd onb-r a new coat of paint every 
 year, for every article in tlie place, if IM let him. 
 
 I.AHY M. {superriliinislif i'ohiutj at t/ic pictures through 
 (i/c fflti.ss) Inclndin;?; the pictures ? 
 
 Muv I'lnt. [an.iiintstif] I hope you admire them, Lady 
 Matibla'^ They're all IJ.'s taste. 
 
 I,\i>v M. So I hhould have guessed. {stiH looking at 
 them) Very fine, vciy fli;* indeed. 
 
 Ill NT. I><M M your XmiflMf mean the landncapes, or the 
 'jytcry snbjeetH? 
 
 ],Ai»Y .^l. N'>. I meant th(5 frames. 
 
 Ill NT. [angntgy risid'j Adnuring the frames! These 
 
 nrihlocrats iiave no ta^le l<>r art I {n' /ud , Vcs, that's my 
 
 style. None of your ^moky old Italian and Flcminh 
 
 iiinbugs fur me. Ciivo mo the .shc-dooverg of our own 
 
 school. 
 
 I.AOY >L ;\h, ynii j)refer yonnoj pupils to obi n ' •. 
 
 lii'NT. Of course I d'» There's I* \.W Thi,.,. .. ..at 
 you may call a n«atri'ilieoiit v-r^y of irH-cU^ Inbiit, 
 Ha, ha I {Uuiffhs trittmphantlj) 
 
 IjAdy iM. blankly) I beg your pardon. 
 
 Il 
 
 f y 
 
60 
 
 NEW mi:n and old acres. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Bunt. Army— Koysil Academy I {aside) What a 
 damn'd fo(,l tlii.s >vom;in i-! 
 
 LAf)Y M. All, very neat iudiM-d — Avlicn it's explained. 
 
 Hunt, (aside) Coiifo.md iicr im|mdenc'c ! 
 
 liADY M. And your .statues, Mr. Uuiiter — pray do you 
 have tliein dono by contract y 
 
 JJuNT. Contract? Carrara, every one of them, Carrara! 
 
 Lady M. A1» I I fancied tlicrc was a sort of family 
 likeness about tliom. At all events, I am pretty certain 1 
 recognize .some old fricinds. 
 
 JJuNT. No; I bought tlicm ail fresh made. 
 
 MuH. )3uNT. Hot and hot, as you may say, from 
 the studio. 
 
 Lady M. Ah, I thought I remembered some of them 
 in the neighbourhood of the New Koad. The arts arc a 
 great deal to you men (d' business. 
 
 Hunt. Yes ; we're a treading in the steps of the 
 Venetians and the Florentines. It wa.s the merchant 
 princes employed the artists there, you know, my lady. 
 
 Lady M. And here, tlianks to financing and falsifica- 
 tion, trade i.° rising into an art. [unijfs :it her flacon) 
 Keally, I'm so u.scd to the dullness of Cleve Abbey, 
 your bran new sphndour (\\\\\(i gives me a headache. 
 
 JJuNT. Ah, we're used to it. We never have no 
 'cadachcs. It's nothing when you're used to it. 
 
 IsIks. Hunt. Hut, my lady, you haven't seen half round 
 the place yet. 
 
 La.)Y M. You call it '' iicaunianor Hark," I think? 
 Now, I should chri.^ten it "Hunter House," if I were 
 you. 
 
 Mks. Hunt. Well, Beaumanor Park, dooH sound old 
 fashioned 
 
 Lady M. (asidt) And does not s'lfTicicnlly identify the 
 place with tiio people, [aloud) I'm (piite at your service. 
 
 Mh3. H. This way, my lady. Conic, H. 
 
 Krennt !iAi>v Matilda and Mns. H( tkk, n. 
 
 DuNT. That woman set.s my blood a b'iling. Lgad, you 
 would thiidx, to |tK>k at her, that she nn'ant to l»uy 
 OS up, instead of vic(i ver.*(ji I Hut we; re all du.st of 
 tho earth, 'igh and 'umblc — 'igh and 'umbie. 
 
 Exit after Ladies, b. 
 
Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 61 
 
 Lilian and Fanny havn enUred from r. during thp 
 dialogue, and have been standing up c, the^ now come 
 down. 
 
 Lilian, (l.) The worst thing about your house, Fanny, 
 is tluit it is all too briglit — too gsiy. I haven't seen a 
 ginglc corner wliere I could fancy you reading Tennyson, 
 and enjoying a good cry. 
 
 Fanny, {sitting on sofa, u.) Ah, you should sec my 
 oratory — all black draperies, ebony lurniturc, and the 
 sweetest death's head in ivory. Do come over sonic 
 morning, and let's revel in, " In niemoriam" together. 
 One long sigh, interspersed with sobs. 
 
 ]^!lian. {sitting r. of table, l. c.) I'm afraid I shouldn't 
 appreciate that style of amusement, I'm so dreadfully 
 liglit-hearted. 
 
 Fanny. You should mortify yourself, dear. Keep the 
 fasts and vigils — try bread and water twice a week, and 
 you've no idea how low-spirited you'll soon feel. 
 
 fiiLiAN. Fin afraid I should relapse into eoftco and rolls, 
 fish and a cutlet, on the slightest provocation. Fvc an 
 awfully healthy appetite, as well as a dreadfully light 
 heart ; and yet Fve reason enough to be sad. {sighs) 
 
 Fanny. You said " No" to Mr. Brown, didn't you ? 
 
 Lilian. Ye.% I said " No," but it wa.sn't from my heart. 
 
 Fanny. I said " Yes" to IJertie, and it wa.s from my 
 heart. It was papa said "No" and meant it, and that's a 
 deal wor.scthan saying " No" one's self, and not meaning it. 
 
 Lilian. Shall I give your love to IJcrtie when I see him ? 
 
 Fanny. Thank you, dear, but I see him every day 
 myself. lie's looking out for my signal now, at tlie old 
 oak in tlic park, the "talking oak," as I call it. 
 
 Lilian. Ah, you're a happy girl — you can see the man 
 you love. 
 
 Mhri. Bunt, {outside, n.) Lanny I 
 
 Fanny. Yes, mamma, {to Lilian) Oorae, dear, {going, r.) 
 
 Enter Brow w, c, depositing his bag on chair behind table, c. 
 
 Brown. Miss Vav.isour I 
 Lilian. Yor lierc ? 
 
 Fanny. Mr. Brown I FU sec you arc not intcrruf*c(L 
 
 Exit through conservatory, r. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
6i 
 
 NKW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3, 
 
 Bbown. I am hero, on a Ijuslncss appointment with 
 Mr. Hunter. I came in through the conservatory. You 
 arc the hist porsnn I cxpcctt'"! to sec. 
 
 Lilian. Mamniii is hire. Don't hi; surprised if she treats 
 you coldly — yt)uiiave not treated her, or any of u» kindly — 
 you liave given us no news of yourself. 
 
 HuowN. No news is good news. We've pulled through. 
 Do you rememl)er my saying I liked to battle with a hud 
 time? It was a rash thing to say. This has been an 
 awful three weeks. I've sometimes looked in the glass "f 
 a morning, to see if my hair hadn't turned white over- 
 night, {with affected (jaict}/) It hasn't, has it ? 
 
 liiMAN. Oh, don't laugh, it pains inc. Wc have all 
 thought of you very much ; but you will conic to see ui 
 at the Abbey ? {looks round her) In this house some* 
 how 
 
 IJuowN. Everything seems in keeping with the purso- 
 proud snobs — its own(;rs — nothing with you. Yes, I will 
 venture over to the Abbey once more. 
 
 Lilian. Once more ? 
 
 IJrown. To bid you all good bye, before I leave 
 Knghind. 
 
 Lir<iAN. Before you leave England ? 
 
 Mk8. IJuntku. {outside, n.) Miss Vavasour I 
 
 Lilian, {spcah off, r. i I'm coming ! {crosses, R.) I 
 must sec you again. I have so much to say to you. 
 Watch till you can .'-peak with mc alone. 
 
 Mks. lit-NTEK. {()u(si.d(% ij.) Miss Vavasour I 
 
 Lilian. I'm coming, Mrs. Bunter. Exit Lilian, k. 
 
 Brown. Heaven bless her bright face I I don't know 
 Tvliethcr the sight of it has done more to quicken, or kill 
 my courage. To l<Mive ICngland is little, but to leave 
 Lilian — hero comes that snob. I cannot face him so soon 
 after her ! Exit door, h, 1 r.., taking his bag. 
 
 Re-enter Bunter and Fanny, from r. 
 
 Bunt. Look hero, Fanny, wjiile your mamma i.s sliowing 
 hor 1ji<1\ ship nur . huny, I want t«» know what's the matter 
 ^ith you — yoM tre a.»i dull a^ a mute at a funcnil Do 
 look a little lively, can't j«u, at least afore visitors ? 
 
Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 68 
 
 Fanny, (r.) Do not ask mc for smiles, pnpa, unless it 
 be the smiles that musk a hrnkcii heart. 
 
 lU'NT. (l.) Hrokeii liddh'.stick ! All beeauso Tve said 
 " No" to your .silly fancy f<»r this yoim;; ritz-Trsr. 
 
 Fanny. {trayicaUn) Ih-ware, l>ajm, huw you drive two 
 young hearts to extremity ! 
 
 JiuNT. Now do he eulm, Fanny. 
 
 Fanny, [suddenlij turning on hhn) Calm ! {crostes her 
 hands on her bosom, d la Maler Dolorosa) 
 
 " And in my breast, if ealm at all, 
 If any ealm — a eahn despair." 
 
 Hunt. Pooh, j)o<)h ! None of them pre-raflfe-le-tite 
 attitudes here. Suppose I was to tell you I'd thought 
 Letter of it ? 
 
 Fannv. Papa ! 
 
 iJuNT. You seem very fond of him — Pm very fond of 
 you. My happiness is in making other people happy. 
 I'm told he's clever. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, so clever I Look how he jNissed that Civil 
 Service examination. 
 
 Hunt. Ah, I never passed one myself, so I don't know 
 what sort of a passage it is. Hut it shows he's fit for thi 
 »:(Tviee of his eountry. And therefore 1 say, take him, 
 Fanny, and make the best of him. 
 
 Fanny. And you mean that, papa? {with a gush of 
 emotion) Hless you ! very much bless you ! [k'tuses him twice) 
 
 Hunt. Ditto — very nuich ditto, [kisses her twice) 
 
 I'^ANNY. (disgusted) Wiiat do you mean by " very nmch 
 
 ditto," papa? 
 
 Hi: NT. Hless you ! I mean — and take notice I gave you 
 my blessing before the po«t came in. (Fanny rushes to the 
 opening, c.) Nobody'll f-iispeet the ttlrgram. (Fanny 
 jumping up and vmving her hnndkerchiej\ c.) What do you 
 mean by that ? (imitates her sigutil) 
 
 Fanny, (hlushing) Thai .^ for Hrrtie, }»apa. 
 
 Hunt. Why, do you muao to tell nte he's there, on tho 
 look out ? 
 
 Fanny. Yes, papa. 
 
 Hunt. And that you've Wn in the habit of doing that 
 eort of thing? [imitating her) 
 
 Fannt. Yes, papa. 
 
 'f 
 
 P 
 
 r 
 
64 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Bunt. And tlmt you woultl Imvfi gone on (lolng that sort 
 of tiling, if I hadn't givcMi my consent? 
 
 Fanny. Yes, papii. {down, l.) 
 
 Hunt, {severely) Well, FiUiny, if this is what you call 
 "Iionouring your fatlior and inutlier" 
 
 Fanny. How could I honour my fathor and my mother 
 more than by giving them such a son-in-law ? 
 
 liuNT. Ihit how about his principles— his principles 
 and his piety? IT"" bout them, Fanny? 
 
 Fanny. He will have mo, i)apa, to guide him to the 
 sweet symbolism of Nature, and the chastening discipline 
 of the Early Church. 
 
 Ik-NT. Well, I hope he'll like it I 
 
 Fanny. I must tdl mamma. If Bertie comes, papa, 
 say I'll be back directly. Exit, h. 
 
 Enter Fitz-IIrbr, c, from l. — rum down, i.., not seeing 
 BuNTER //// doim^ U — he starts back a little at seeing 
 
 BUNTEK. 
 
 FiTZ-lJ. (l.) The governor! Oh! I say, T didn't 
 expect to see you, yim know. 
 
 Bunt. No, lir ; you expected to see Miss Buntcr. 
 {with off ected sternness) 'V\\v siglit of nn indignant parent 
 may well startle you. I know all — your signals and your 
 rendez-vous-ing. You wcroi't far off, it seems. 
 
 FiTZ-U. Only in the Fark, sir, under the big oak, like 
 —what's his nanu* — Charles the 12th, yt)u know. Always 
 am there at twelve, looking out for this sort (»f thing. 
 {waves his handkerchief) One fur "come," two ft-r '*don't." 
 
 F.nter Beuvant, l. 1 e. 
 
 Servant, {announcing) Mr. Brown, sir, by appoint- 
 ment. Exit, L. I E. 
 
 Bunt, {with dignity, to Frrz-rRsi) Co, young man, 
 aud join the ladies. (FiTZ-ritsi: crosses to u.) No njore of 
 thofic elandestical proceedings. You Isave uiy permissiuii 
 to address Miss Bunter as an acce|>tcd suitor. 
 
 FiTZ-lI. No — have I tliougii ? I wiftii you'd told mft 
 before. It's been very damp undei that t»*ec, and doosed 
 dow, waiting for this sort of thing, {waving handkerchief) 
 Ope for •* come," and two for ♦' don't." By-by, Buntof I 
 
 Exit^ it, 
 
r 
 
 Act 3.] 
 
 NEW 5fEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 65 
 
 Re-enter Brows, l. 1 E., with bag — shown in by Servawt 
 — Drown places bat/ on table, L. 
 
 Hl'MT. Ah! my doar frioiid. (Jlad to soc you ! You've 
 liad an early jourmy. I snpjxtsc you'd like a little break- 
 fust. Wc mustn't quite neglect the carnal man. (to 
 Siiivant) Montmorency ! (Skkvant hows) nn-aklkst lor 
 Mr. Brown, in my study. (Sf.kvant iojrj, and rrit, l. 1 k.) 
 You'll be buugpcst there. Well, 1 wa.s glad to sec you'd 
 'i;o«pcd the ** (Jazcttc." 
 
 Hkown. Ve.x, that 40,000 saved as. ]t was worth the 
 ,'i,(HM) I jwid you for it. 
 
 IUjnt. All ! I mi;;lit have madr cent, per cent of the 
 money then, but I never grud^*^ it. 
 
 IJrown. It wa.s a Rcrn|M» for life — but we've saved our 
 credit, at the eo.st of our capital. 
 
 BirsT. Quite right. What ifl wealth ? Dross, Mr. 
 Brown, except as used for something better than mere 
 worldlinesj*. 
 
 Brown. Other worhlliness, for example. 
 
 Bi;nt. Exactly. You've brouj^Iit the title deeds ? 
 
 BuowN. Here they are. {takes deeds from bag on table^ 
 and hands them to him) 
 
 Bunt, (k.) 1 *.hall have t*) get the mortgage money 
 out of the estate. There is nttthing for it but a sale. 
 
 Brown, (i..) Have you thought of the family? 
 
 Bunt. Thouglit of them? My 'cart's been bleeding 
 for them this month past. But I can't lie out of my 
 money. I am ready to give them a fancy price 
 
 Brown. Ah I you mean to bitl, then ? 
 
 BfNT. A .«ale by private contract won't hurt their 
 fi'clings so much. My n ifr and dauj;l»tcr like the place, 
 though it's too old-fashioucd fur nic. When we've bcttlcd 
 there 
 
 lie-enter Br.AsKNnAi.r., r/*>or, l. 1 v.. — he sits at back of 
 table^ h. c. — Brown and he exchange bows. 
 
 Ah, BlasenUiilg I I was just going to tell Brown how 
 happy we shimld be to .see him at i'levc Abbey — whether 
 
 it's for shooting or H.-shing 
 
 Brown. Fi&hing t Mr. I31uscnbalg ou|;ht to know 
 •omctbing about that. 
 
 r 
 
 !^! 
 
 ' 
 
 H 
 
 '! 
 
 ii 
 
 ill 
 
66 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 I; 
 
 Ki tl I 
 
 Blaskn Yftli, dcrc is rodcI fishinp at do Abbey. 
 
 Dkown. Especially aiMoMR the |>«»t liolcHof tiir mountain 
 limestone. 1 remember you preferred your fish in a foshil 
 state. 
 
 Ulasen. Ah, I remember, you uacd to laugh at my 
 ylints. 
 
 JJrown. I did once — but I know better now. 
 
 I^LAHKN. What. do you moan? 
 
 BuowN. You remember when I and Miss Vavaso\ir 
 emptied your creel? (Hlaskniialo nc>c/*) I kept back some 
 bits of your vlints, as you cull them. 
 
 Hlaskn. You kept dem back — for what ? 
 
 BuowN. Merc idU' eurioaity. (Blaskniialq gives a sigh 
 of relief) It struck me tliey felt heavy. 
 
 IiLAskn. Yah, de vliuts is iieavy. 
 
 Brown. But these turned out to be no more flints than 
 they were nuggets. lu fact it seems they were nuggets — 
 if not of gold, of iron. 
 
 Bi'XT. {startled) Iron? Pooh, pooh! (All me) 
 
 Blaskn. Nonsense ! {down, r.) What do you know 
 about iron ? 
 
 Servant enters, l. 1 e , witfi breakfast on iray, and carries 
 it into the room, l. 3 E. 
 
 Brown. Nothing, but I have a friend who knows a 
 good deal, lie ms\ tliu stones knocking about my oiliee, 
 and recommended me to have them analyzed. 
 
 Bf^asei'. But you vos not vool enough to waste your 
 money ? 
 
 Brown. Yes, I wa.s. And you'll both be interested to 
 know that tln^ fyone turns out to be lljcmatite, containing 
 seventy-five per cent, of iron. Here's the analysis, if 
 you've any curiosity about it. 
 
 Bunt. Oh, I don't care about it. {takes it) 
 
 Brown. It's of some importance though. If the stone 
 exists in quantity, the estate is of enormous value. 
 
 Blaskn. Ah, dese analyists arc always finding out 
 mares' nests for fools to lay their eggs in. 
 
 Bunt. I wouldn't give a Hgfor seicntific opinions — you 
 may buy as many as you like at a guinea a-piecc. Give 
 mo practical men, sir— practical men. 
 
Act 3.1 new mkn and old acres. 
 
 •7 
 
 BiuAVN. At all events tlio matter dcficrvcsconwdoration. 
 It slimild be mentioned to Vavasour. 
 
 Hi:nt. [horvllii'd] Mentioned to Vavasour! Aroyoumad? 
 
 IIkown. TImu you licruxc tlir iron's there? 
 
 lirsT. (nm/Ksnl) It's better not to unsettle people's 
 minds, wlieii tlicy'vc made up to sell. What can be the 
 good of your si)oilin;^ the market ? 
 
 HuowN. I was thinking it might improve the market for 
 tlic vendor. (HrsTKU is about to tear paper) I'll trouble you 
 for that analysis. 
 
 IJi.ASKN. [aside to Hintkh as Hkown puts up paper) 
 lie vant.s a sliec — otVer him one. 
 
 Hunt, (to Hkown) Keej) this dark, and we don't miud 
 giving you a share of tmr luck — say a lourth. 
 
 lii.ASKN. Say — in dritt'd — «lat's share and share alike. 
 
 Bunt. I don't kn»>\v what he means, but he says you're 
 to have some " drittcl" — oh, yes, share and share alike. 
 
 Brown. It's a tempting ();Vi'r, but 
 
 IJiNT. (ear/erft/) No *' buts"' — take it, my boy, take it, 
 and my ble8.sing go along with it. 
 
 IJkown. I've some doubts whether it isn't stealing a 
 mareh on Vavasour. 
 
 Bunt. Nonsense, there's no reservation of minerals in 
 the conveyance, lie can**, claim a penny more, on account 
 o( the iron, if he knew nothing about It. 
 
 Blaskn. Dat's de law. 
 
 Bhown. But is it justice ? Is it honesty ? Is it f^ir 
 dealing with gentlemen ? 
 
 Bunt. Whai's that got to do with us? Keep on the 
 right side of the law. and don't fly in the face of Providence. 
 It's sinful! If people went on your tack, how do you 
 think busincs.s would go on ? IIow would fortunes be 
 made ? 
 
 Brown. A.s fortunes should be made, by fair dealing, 
 and hard work. If the world went cm my tack, thou.sands 
 of families wouldn't be ruined tr> enrich a few score of 
 jiuecessful speculators, and British enterprise would not 
 Bt4uid in the pillory, as it docs n(tw, with " Lie/' branded 
 on it's forehead ! (Hlasf-nrauj goes up^ r.) 
 
 Bunt. I didn't expect to hear such very coarse language 
 from you ; but, if you like to fly in the face of Providence, 
 
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68 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 go and fly — fly away — but don't say as I didn't offer 
 'andsomc. 
 
 Skrvant. {re-entering from l. 3 e.) Mr. Brown's break- 
 fost is served ! 
 
 Bunt. Montmorency, go away, get out ! 
 
 Exit Skrvant, l. 1 e. 
 {very earnesily) I say. Brown, honour bright, you ain't in 
 the market yourself ? 
 
 Bkown. [in the same tone) Honour bright, Mr. Bunter, 
 I am not. You arc mortgagee now. I've Inindcd over 
 tlie deeds. I wash my hands of tlie whole business, and I 
 leave you to reconcile your week-day practice with your 
 Sunday profession ! Exit into studi/^ l. 3 e. 
 
 Blasen. 'JMio fool ! {locks door ore him) Better keep 
 him safe ! {looks at Buntkh, ivho is now sitting l. of iahky 
 L. c.) Vy, if you ain't blushing! 
 
 Bunt. I thoucrht as Brown docs — once. 
 
 Blasen. Luckily, you know better now. {crosses to L.) 
 
 Re-enter Lady Matilda /?'om conservatory^ i\. 
 
 Lady M. Now, Mr. Bunter, my Inisband and Mr. 
 Seeker are waiting. I think there's nothing to interfere 
 with the settlement of this morning's business. The 
 sooner the better. 
 
 Bunt. Perhaps you are right. Unpleasant things can't 
 be got over too jboon. 
 
 Lady AL J ^uite agi'cc with you. Here come the 
 gentlemen. Sk.Jtll we take our seats ? 
 
 (Vavasoiu and Seckku appear in conservatory^ r.) 
 
 Bunt, (/o Blaseniialg) She's a game 'un ! Docs your 
 ladyship intend to be present ? 
 
 Lady M. If you have no objection. I rather pique 
 myself upon being a wcunan of business, you know. 
 
 Enter Vavasour and >Si:('kkii, from conservatory — they 
 
 interchange bows. 
 
 Vavas. {nihbing his hands) Good morning, Bunter— 
 good morning 1 Fine, chec'y weather ! 
 
 Bunt. Be seated, gentlemen, (aside to Blasenbalo) 
 The Squire looks very lively, considering, {formally) 
 "We needn't go into the circumstances which have driven 
 things to this painful point. 
 
iCT3. 
 't offer 
 ; brcak- 
 
 , L. 1 E. 
 
 ain't in 
 
 IJuntcr, 
 id over 
 H, and I 
 til your 
 
 , L. 3 E. 
 
 n* keep 
 )/ tablCf 
 
 es to L.) 
 
 id Mr. 
 uterfcre 
 The 
 
 gs can't 
 
 me the 
 
 js your 
 
 Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 69 
 
 V. 
 
 pique 
 
 — thei/ 
 nter — 
 
 NBALO) 
 
 'inalli/) 
 driven 
 
 Vavas. Not the least necessary, I should say. 
 
 Bunt. Mr. Seeker has told you of my ofter for Cleve 
 Abbey. 
 
 Vavas. Yes. An extremely handsome offer I tliink it is. 
 
 Bunt. \Vc none of us want to give the lawyers a job 
 — no oftcnee to you, Mr. Seeker. We'll have no long- 
 winded investigation of title. 
 
 Lady M. AViicre every parclimcnt harbours a question, 
 and every question a note of interrogation and five pounds. 
 Perfectly unnecessary, I tliink. 
 
 Bunt. It's quite a ]irivilcge to have to deal with a head 
 like your ladyship's. 1 lere's my cheque for eighty thousand. 
 Here's the mortgage deed to be caueellcfj — tlie eonvcyanco 
 of Cleve Abbey to be executed, (r/ives cheque and parch- 
 ments to Seckep., as he speaJcs) 
 
 Vavas. (pushing parchment over to Bunteu) I beg your 
 pardon ! If you will execute this release 
 
 Bunt, {startled) Release ! 
 
 Vavas. (prompted by Skcker) And sign this receipt 
 for mortgage — principal and interest, (points to paper 
 attached to release) 
 
 Bunt. AVhat do you mean ? • 
 
 Lady M. Simply — that we have great satisfaction in 
 clearing off our encumbrances, and no intention, at 
 present, of selling Cleve Abbey ! 
 
 Vavas. [brings his hand down on table, emphatically) 
 Not an acre of it ! 
 
 Bunt. \ The devil you Uaven't I 
 
 Blasen. f Potz tousend ! 
 
 Vavas. I am sure, as a neighbour, you will be glad to 
 hear that — thanks to the accidental discovery of a magni- 
 ficent field of haematite iron on the property. (Buntkk and 
 Blasenbalg astonished) Mr. Serker lias been enabled, not 
 only to pay off the mortgage, but to secure five times the 
 former income of the estate, in the sha])e of mineral rents 
 and royalties — mineral rents and royalties ! 
 
 Lady M. I begged Mr. Seeker to leave us the pleasure 
 of giving you this information, (leans back in her cha/r) 
 
 Bunt. So that accounts for your being in such a iiiirry. 
 
 Vavas. Exactly — we wanted to give you. an a^ecabU 
 lurprise. 
 
70 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Bunt. That's why you're all looking; so lively ? 
 
 Lady M. Yes — wc felt, by jintlcipation, how much your 
 kind and Christian heart, wiiich has sympathized so much 
 in our difticiilties, would rejoice in tlie removal of tliem. 
 
 Bunt, (aside) That woman is a disgustin* liijipercrit ! 
 (aloud) I know who told you of tiiis. {jumps up) 
 
 Lady M. [eagerly) "NVho? 
 
 Bunt. It was that fellow Brown! [aside to Blasknbalg) 
 I thought he was up to some villainy of his own. or he'd 
 have stood in witli us. 
 
 Lady M. No, we have heard nothing from Mr. Brown. 
 But, if you can wo«n the name of his informant out of 
 Mr. Seeker 
 
 Seck. [shaking his head) That's my secret. I couldn't 
 tell you — not if you were to put a five Imndred pound note 
 under my dinner plate! [with a meaning look at Buntkr) 
 
 Bunt. Whoever told you, only wanted to 'umbug you. 
 
 Lady M. Whoever does that, will find us a match 
 for them. 
 
 Vavas. {emphatically) I should think they would ! 
 
 Bunt. Oh, if there is anything that looks like ironstone, 
 it ain't worth a rap 
 
 Lady M. Pardon me, here's the analysis, made by the 
 aame high, scientific authority who analysed some of 
 precisely the same ore for Mr. Blasenbalg. 
 
 Blasen. Blown! 
 
 Bunt. Done Brown ! Lady Matilda, jou won't be 
 surprised if I feel rather hurt at this. 1 don't think I've 
 been 'andsomely treated — I ain't clear I've been legally 
 treated. I'm pretty sure there was an agreement to sell, 
 and that would be held as good as a sale, in equity. 
 
 (SECKErt returns cheque to Bunter) 
 
 Lady M. I think the less *ve invoke equity in this 
 transaction, the better. Now, Mr. Bunter, I haven't seen 
 half your fine things yet. May I ask you to show 
 Mr. Vavasour over your gi*eenhouses ? 
 
 Vavas. Yes, I should like to borrow a hint or two, for 
 gome improvements we're cofitemplating at the Abbey. 
 That's one use of these new places — Fiat experimentum m 
 corpore vili, you kno\v. No, I daresay you don't know — 
 

 Act 3.] new men and old acres. 
 
 .n 
 
 Bunt. They shan't see me down in the month. That 
 way. [pointing off^ r.) /La:e?//i^ Vavasouu and Sixker, u. 
 You will find my gardeners, but you must excuse me, I 
 must talk to my lawyer. We'll see if the law allows 
 people to be choused in this 'artless way. Yes, my lady, 
 I repeat the word — choused ! Kxit if a rage^ l. 1 e. 
 
 Blasen. Dis cheque what TTerr Bunter gave me for two 
 thousand pounds, I think I'd better lose no time to get 
 him cashed at de County J>ank ! Exit^ l. 1 e. 
 
 Lady M. [walking up and down in triumph) This is 
 triumph ! To trick these tricksters — to watch their inso- 
 lent hopes, growing and growing, and to crush them at 
 their ripest. Our fortune is increased five fold. No need 
 now of Lilian falling to a position, equally below her 
 merits and her family. Poor Brown, 1 pity him 1 lie 
 was a noble fellow, but what a mercy it is that affair was 
 broken off in time ! Lilian can do so much better now. 
 
 Re-enter Lilian, r. 
 
 Lilian. Mamma, Mrs. Bunter, is asking for you. 
 
 Lady M. Let her ask. I'm too happy for her, just now. 
 
 Lilian. What's the matter, mamma ? You look quite 
 radiant. 
 
 Lady M. [with a sigh) Ah, joy is a great bcautifier I 
 [takes Lilian in her arms) Let me kiss my own darling, 
 and tell her this good news : that we are rich again, 
 richer than ever we were — our position in the county 
 prouder than before. That in shaping my Lilian's future, 
 we need no longer consult anything but her heart and 
 her deserts. 
 
 Lilian. Oh, this is news I But what good fairy has 
 wrought this transformation ? 
 
 Lady M. It's all through a discovery of ironstone on 
 the estate. 
 
 Lilian. Oli, \\ that discovery had been made a month ago! 
 
 Lady M. Better as it is, or Mr. Brown's sudden change 
 of fortune would not have made it so clearly your duty to 
 break with him. 
 
 Lilian. But, mama, arc you quite sure it was my duty? 
 
 Lady M. I know it sounds very worldly — but I say 
 now, as I said then, " Yes." 
 
 1 
 

 , 
 
 r:. i 
 
 
 
 ( * 
 
 ^' 
 
 i. 
 
 r'' 
 
 ■ ■' 1 
 
 
 ' P 
 
 r 
 
 t2 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Lilian. Ah, mamma, he did not say " No" to his heart 
 because wc were poor ! 
 
 Lady M. This is unwise. You have been saved from a 
 sacrifice, and you seem to regret it, even to reproach me 
 with it. But coinc, {crosses, it.) poor Mrs. liuntcr has 
 been condoling with ur, all the morning, we ought to give 
 her the opportunity of congnitulating us. Let us hope 
 ihc'll do it le.«8 clunwrily. Exit, u. 
 
 Lilian. Ah, wliy will mamma insist on my being luippy 
 in her w,\y, instead of my own? JJut she Is right. All 
 is over between us now. I3ut he is here. He promised 
 to see me once more, to say good-bye. Oh ! must it be 
 for ever? , 
 
 Brown, (ivithin room, l. 3 e.) Lilian! 
 
 Lilian. That's his voice! {ffoes to door, l. 3 B.; 
 
 Brown. I'm locked in ; the key's on your side. Let 
 me out. 
 
 Lilian, {unlocking dooi' — Brown comes out) How very 
 strange I What was tliat for ? 
 
 Brown, {laughing) For fear I miglit spoil sport. Your 
 mamma has done tliat most effectually. I couldn't resist 
 the temptation to assist at the scene, through the keyhole. 
 
 Lilian. Then you know this wonderful cliange in our 
 fortunes. 
 
 Brown. Yes. I congratilate you. My fortunes have 
 changed too — unhappily for the worst. I shall have to 
 begin the world again. 
 
 Lilian. And alone, too? 
 
 Brow^n. Yes. Pioneers and Forlorn Hopes must 
 carry nothing but flicir implements and arms. I am 
 glad to have this opportunity of saying good-bye. I 
 have very little time to spare. I sail at the end of the 
 month. 
 
 Lilian. Going to leave England? 
 
 Brown. Yes. England's a capital place to spend a 
 fortune, but one wants elbow-room and a new country to 
 make one. I'm going to establish a new connection in 
 Australia. 
 
 Lilian. So far away ! It will be a hard struggle for 
 you there. Oh, if good wishes could help you ! 
 
 BsowN. I shall have yours, I'm sure. It will be pleasant 
 
[Act 3. 
 
 lis heart 
 
 1 from a 
 3ach me 
 iter has 
 i to give 
 us liope 
 Exit^ u. 
 ig happy 
 lit. Mi 
 )romiscd 
 ust it be 
 
 le. Let 
 
 [ow very 
 
 t. Your 
 I't resist 
 ceyhole. 
 in our 
 
 es have 
 lave to 
 
 s must 
 am 
 ye. I 
 . of the 
 
 )end A 
 
 itry to 
 
 Ition in 
 
 [gle for 
 
 leasant 
 
 Act 3.] 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 ii 
 
 to know I leave all so changed for tlic bctier at tlic Abbey, 
 that your mamma is free to carry out her plans for you. 
 
 Lilian. I preferred yours. 
 
 Brown. But everything is altered since then. I've 
 torn that chapter out of irf^ book, you had better tear it 
 out too. 
 
 Lilian. Did you find it so easy to tear out ? 
 
 Brown. Sailors on a lee shore have enough to do with 
 the ship. I've thought as little as I could of Cleve Abbey. 
 
 Lilian. But this breaking up of old habits, associations, 
 friendships I 
 
 Brown. Trees can be transplanted with the roots — but 
 the less they are uncovered, the better. Remember — 
 even when I thought myself a rich man— there was a 
 great river between us, now 'tis an ocean. 
 
 Lilian. We were both poor then. It might have been 
 my duty not to increase the family difficulties, by an 
 imprudent marriage — even to relieve them, if I could, by 
 a worldly one. But this is all changed now. We 
 are rich 
 
 Brown. And I am poor. 
 
 Lilian. Not as poor as I was when yoii asked me to be 
 your wife, {holds out her arms) I now ask to share your 
 struggle with poverty and privation. You shall sec if I 
 falter. Oh, will you not have mercy on a woman's heart? 
 
 Brown. My own brave girl! Mhie for ever, now. 
 Let who will say «' No!" 
 
 Re-enter Lady Matilda and Vavasour, r. 
 
 Lady M. Lilian ! Mr. Brown. You in this house ! 
 
 Vavas. Very unexpected indeed. Everything is unex- 
 pected to-day. 
 
 Lady M. I thought it was understood, when you left 
 us a month ago, that all intercourse between Miss Vavasour 
 and yourself was at an end. I felt full confidence in that 
 understanding. 
 
 Lilian, [crosses to Lady Matilda) He never broke it, 
 mamma. It was I — I who, when he put me from him with 
 cold words and proud looks, would not be thrust away. 
 He never asked me to be his wife. It was I asked him 
 to be my husband. 
 
 i 
 
u 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Lady M. {severely) And so forgot that guiding 
 principle of your sex — a woman's dignity. 
 
 BuowN. But obeyed* her sex's safer guide— a woman's 
 heart. 
 
 Lady M. I appeal to your generosity, sir — will you 
 take advantage ot her weakness? 
 
 Lilian. Papa — will you plead for me ? 
 
 Vavas. Well, rea'ly, my dear, I'm afraid your mamma 
 knows so much the best what's good for everybody. 
 
 Re-enter Secker, l. 1 e. 
 
 Seck. Ah, Brown, I've found you at last. I positively 
 decline to carry my bagged fox any longer. Now, Lady 
 Matilda, (crosses to her) I can tell you to whom you owe 
 your iron El Dorado. 
 
 Lady M. I'm so glad. Tiie burden of gratitude was 
 too heavy to be pleasant. NVho is it ? 
 
 Seck. There he stands, (points to Brown) Bunter has 
 betrayed you — don't deny it. 
 
 Brown. I never deny the truth. I am sorry you 
 had not the good taste to hold your tongue. I never 
 meant them to know this. (Secker crosses behind, 
 to R.) 
 
 Lilian. They know you did not. Oh, mamma! what 
 wealth cou!d be like poverty, with this man? What 
 rank, like his nobleness? 
 
 Vavas. Really I think, my dear — mind, I only say I 
 think—considering what we owe him 
 
 Lady M. He may claim his own payment. 
 
 (BiiowN takes Lilian's hand) 
 
 Vavas. Eh, my lady, don't say '* No." (rubbing his 
 hands) Egad! this is as good as another iron mine. 
 
 Lady M. You have won he*' fairly, sir. I had dreamt 
 of a very different lot for her. But she has made her 
 choice. I hope she has chosen wisely. 
 
 Vavas. Hope, my lady ! I'll lay my head — and that's 
 no trifling bet — she has chosen well. Heaven bless you 
 darling, (crosses to Lilian, and kisses her) And you too, 
 Mr. Brown, as my lady has no objection, {shakes Brown'* 
 hand heartilj/'j 
 
[Act 3. 
 
 guiding 
 I woman's 
 -will you 
 
 ir mamma 
 (ody. 
 
 positively 
 ow, Lady 
 1 you owe 
 
 tiiude was 
 
 3unter has 
 
 iorry you 
 I never 
 s behind, 
 
 la! what 
 What 
 
 nly say I 
 
 I's hand) 
 
 U)bing his 
 Ine. 
 
 dreamt 
 lade her 
 
 hd that's 
 
 |ess you 
 
 ^'ou too, 
 
 iROWM'd 
 
 3.] 
 
 NEW UEK AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 u 
 
 lie enter Bunter and Blasendalo, l. 1 b. 
 
 Bunt, {aside to Blasenhat.g) The law ■won't help us — 
 it never will when it ou<;lit to. {sci's Ukown) Hallo, 
 Drown; out! [cuiifvsed) 1 iiope you had a comfortable 
 breakfast. 
 
 Brown. As comfortaMe as could be expected in a 
 lock-u[). 
 
 Bunt. Ah! that was Blascnbalg's doing.s. It was of 
 no uic, after all. 
 
 IhjowN. Not the slightest. I had taken your own 
 wise precaution. 
 
 Bunt. Wiiat do you moan? 
 
 Brown. I wwVi it all ri^ht Ijcfondiand with the agent — 
 eh, Seeker? (Slckhr chuckles cvnd rubs his hands) 
 
 Blasen. J like dat man, thougli he has done mc out of 
 the best ting I was ever in for. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Bunteh, Fanny and Fitz-Urse, r. 
 
 Lady Isl. Ah ! here come your turtle-doves, Mr. Bunter. 
 Let me present mine, {prcscutiufj Lilian «ndZ Brown) She 
 has proposed — he has accepted her. 
 
 Vavas. No, no, my dear, you mean 
 
 Lady M. I mean what I say, Marmaduke — I generally 
 do. 
 
 Fanny. Oh, this is delightful ! Do let us all be married 
 together ! 
 
 Fitz-U. Yes, as they say at Newman's, "One pair 
 wedding greys out — another to follow." Fll enter the 
 two matches together for the same day^ over the St. 
 George's Course. 
 
 Bum'. AVcll, I don't know. One must observe dis- 
 tinctions of rank. Considering what my son-in law 
 is 
 
 Fitz-U. Eh? 
 
 Bunt. Yes, you'll be glad to know, my lady, that the 
 Honourable AFr.s. Beginald Fitz-Urse has been brought to 
 bod of two gins. 
 
 Lady M. A'i, I eondole with you, most sincerely, on 
 your disappointment. 
 
 Bunt. What ! That mv son-in-law is a nobleman ? 
 
76 
 
 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. 
 
 [Act 3. 
 
 Lady M. That he isn't. 
 
 Bunt. What d'ye mean? 
 
 Lady M. Oil, you can't be expected to know these 
 things. Will you explain, my dear. 
 
 Vavas. Ah, I'm always called on in any difficulty. 
 Don't you sec, Mr. Hunter, that as Bearholm is a Barony 
 by Writ, the title falls into abeyance between tho co- 
 heiresses, instead of going to the next male. 
 
 Bunt. Then he isn't a nobleman? 
 
 Vavas. Certainly not — unless he's one of nature's. 
 
 Lady M. Luckily, you don't care about family. You 
 have his principles to fall back upon, you know, and his 
 talents. 
 
 Bunt, (aside) That woman is a disgustin' hippercriti 
 {fiercely^ to Blasenbalo) What are you sniggering at? 
 I'll give you something to snigger for on the wrong side 
 of your ugly mouth ! I've sent to stop that cheque. 
 
 Blas. I guessed you vould — so I vent and got him 
 cashed first. 
 
 Bunt. Done brown again ! I should like to know if 
 there's any part of me left that can be done browner? 
 
 Mrs. Bunt. Let me comfort you, dear. 
 
 (embraces him — he sits l. of table, "L.q. 
 
 Lady M. INLarmaduke, will you order the carriage for 
 the Abbey? [to Brown) You may claim your place in it 
 now, as in everything belonging to us. 
 
 BuowN. Including your hearts, I hope ? 
 
 Vavas. And the old acres, of course. 
 
 Lady M. Yes; the dear old acres — saved I Thanks 
 to you. [giving Brown her hand) 
 
 Lilian. Don't thank him, mamma, he couldn't help it. 
 Noblesse oblige, [fondhj turning to Brown) 
 
 I^ady M. Mr. Brown, you have taught us all a lesson. 
 
 Brown, {simply) Have I ? 
 
 Lilian. Yes. That it doesn't need " Old Acres" to 
 make "New Men" — gentlemen! (slightly bowing to Brown) 
 
 Curtain* 
 
[Act 3. 
 
 w these 
 
 ifficulty. 
 Barony 
 tho CO- 
 
 : 
 
 
 re's. 
 7- You 
 and his 
 
 percrit I 
 ing at? 
 )ng side 
 ue. 
 ;ot him 
 
 know if 
 ler? 
 
 >Ze, L. C. 
 
 iage for 
 ice in it 
 
 rhanks 
 help it. 
 lesson, 
 •es" to 
 
 iROWN) 
 
\ 
 
\ i 
 
 i 
 
SWEETHEAETS. 
 
 3n (Original riramatit Contrast, 
 
 IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 W. S. GILBERT. 
 
 LoNPOx : 
 
 «amiji:l KUHNCir, 
 
 89, STRAND. 
 
 New York: 
 SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, 
 
 I'L'HMSHEKS, 
 
 122, NASSAU STREET. 
 
 I : 
 
SWEETHEARTS, 
 
 First produced at the Prince of Wales Theatre {under 
 the management of Miss Marie Wilton)^ ISaturday^ 
 November Ith^ 1874. 
 
 cr]^ArA(t^r0* 
 
 MR. HARRY SPREADBROW 
 
 WILCOX (a Gardener) 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 Mr. CooBLAV. 
 
 Mr. F. Glovbb. 
 
 MISS JENNY NORTHCOTT 
 
 ,., Miss Mauib WiLTOM 
 
 (Mrs. Bancroft}. 
 
 RUTH {her Mi id Servant) Miss Plowdbb. 
 
 Act I.— 1844, SPBINQ. 
 Act II.— 1874, AUTUMN. 
 

 ■/»•/>«■•'. . • . r 
 
 ^r-nhf«ir.'iti) 
 
 ,1f/ Tif, i Itu ,.1 
 
 ri- / I 
 
 
^ 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 3D-A.TE-1844. 
 
 Scene. — Thn Garden of a prdty Coaatnj Villa. The 7inus6 
 is iicio, and the (furdeii shows si(/ns of having been recently 
 laid out; the shrubs are small, and the few trees about are 
 moderate in size] small creepers are trained against the house ; 
 an open country in the didance ; a little bridge, h. u. E., over 
 a stream, forms the entrance to the garden ; Music in orchestra 
 at rise of Curtain — " Love's Young J-)ream." 
 
 Wilcox is discovered seated on edge of garden wheelbarrow up 
 
 stage, L., preparing his " bass'"' fir t'/ing tip plants, he rises 
 
 nd comes down with sycamore sapling in his hand; it is care- 
 
 fully done up in matting, and has a direction label attached to it. 
 
 Wilcox, {reading the label) " For Miss Northcott, with 
 Mr. Spreadbrow's kindest regards." " Acer Pseudo Plantamcs.^* 
 Aye, aye ! sycamore, 1 suppose, though it ain't genteel to say so 
 Humph! sycamores are common enough in these parts, there 
 ain't no call, as I can see, to send a hundred and twenty mile 
 for one. Ah, Mr. Spreadbrow, no go —no go ; it ain't to be 
 done with ^^ Acer Pseudo Plantanuses." Miss Jenny's sent better 
 men nor you about their business afore this, and as you're agoin 
 about your'n of your own free will to-night, ami a good long 
 way too, why 1 says, no go, no go ! If 1 know Miss Jenny, 
 she's a good long job, and you've set down lookiiig at 
 your work too long, and now that it's come to going, you'll 
 need to hurry it, and Miss Jenny ain't a jol) to be hurried over, 
 bless her. Take another three months, and I don't say there 
 mightn't be a chance for you, but it'll take all that — ah, thank 
 goodness, it'll take all that 1 
 
 Enter Jenny fwm behind the house, r. u. e., prepared for 
 
 gardening. 
 
 Jenny. Well, Wilcox, what have you got there? (hetouche» 
 his forehead and gioes her the sycamo-re) Not my sycamore? 
 
 Wilcox. Yes, miss; Mr. Spreadbrow left it last night as the 
 mail passed. 
 
8WEETUEARTS. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 ' t 
 
 Jenny. Then he's returned already? Why, he was not 
 expected for a week, at least. 
 
 Wilcox. He returned quite sudden last night, and left this 
 here plant with a message tiiat he would call at twelve o'clock 
 to-day, miss. 
 
 Jenny. 1 shall be very glad to see him. So this is really a 
 shoot of the dear old tree! 
 
 VVu.cox. Come all the way from Luuuon, too. There's 
 lots of 'em hereabouts, miss; I could ha' got you a armful for 
 the asking. 
 
 Jenny. Yes, I daresay; but this comes from the dear old 
 house at Hanipstead. 
 
 Wilcox. Do it, now ? 
 
 Jenny. You remember the old sycamore on tlie lawn where 
 Mr. Spreadbrow and I used to sit and loiirn our lessons years 
 ago ? — well, this is a piece of it. And as Mr. Spreadbrow 
 was going to London, I asked him to ha so kind as to call, 
 and tell the new people, with his compliments, that he wanted 
 to cut a shoot from it for a young lady wlio had a very pleasant 
 recollection of many very iiapi»y hours spent under it. It was 
 an awkward thing for a nervous young gentk-inan to do, and 
 it's very kind of him to have dono it. {(/ivcs back the plant 
 which he places against upper porch of house, L.) So he's coming 
 this morning ? 
 
 Wilcox. Yes, miss, to say good-bye. 
 
 Jenny, {crosses to l. a^id busies herself at stand of flowers) 
 (iood-bye? " llow d'ye do," you mean. 
 
 Wilcox. No, miss, good-bye. 1 hear Mr. Spreadbrow's 
 oflf to Ingy. 
 
 ,Ii:nny. Yes; I believe he is going soon. 
 
 W^iLC'ox. Soon? Ah, soon enough ! He joins his ship at 
 Southampton to-night — so he left word yesterday. 
 
 JiNNv. To-nigiit ? No ; not for some weeks yet ? (alarmed) 
 
 WiL( ox. To night, miss. 1 had it from his own lips, and 
 he's coming to-day to say good-bye. 
 
 Jenny. {a,si(ie) To-nigiit ! 
 
 Wilcox. And a good job too, say I, though he's a nice 
 young gentleman too. 
 
 Jenny. I don't see that it's a good job. 
 
 AViL( o\. I don't want no young gentlemen hanging about 
 here, miss. I know what they comes arter; — they comes 
 arter the tlowers. 
 
 Jenny. The flowers? What nonsense ! 
 
 WiL( ox. No, it ain't nonsense. The world's a hap-hazard 
 garden where common vegetables like me, and hardy annuals 
 like my boys, and sour crabs like my old 'ooman, and pretty 
 delicate flowers like you and your sisters grow side by side. 
 It's the flowers they come arter. 
 
Act 1.] 
 
 SWEKTIIKARTS. 
 
 e was not 
 
 Jkkxy. Meally, Wilcox if papa don't ohject I don't see 
 what you Iiav«! to do with it. 
 
 Wilcox. No. your pa' don't olijocf ; but I can't m;ike your 
 pa' out, miss. Walk oti' uitli one nt" his tiippenny toolips and 
 he's your enemy tor iit'i;. ^\^^lk otV with one ol" his darters 
 and he settles three hundred a ye;ir on you. TeU'ee what, 
 miss: if I'd a family of grown L;als liki' you, I'd stick a 
 conservatory laijel on each of them — " IMci.-se not to touch 
 
 the specimens!" — and I'd t;ike Jolly good cire they didn't. 
 
 Jknny. At all events, if Mr. Sprea-lhrow is going away 
 to-night you need not be alarmed on my account. I am a 
 flower that is not picke-l in a niinnte. 
 
 Wilcox. Weil said, mi>s! Ami ;is he w goin/, and as you 
 won't see him no more, I don't mind saying that a better- 
 spoken young gentleman I don't know {nj>jtr<)(icliiii<i Ji'.nnv 
 who is noil) seated in chair l. of tnh/r) A good honest 
 straight-for'ard young chap he is — hjoks you fidl in the face 
 with eyes tliat seem to say, "I'm a open book— turn me over- 
 look me through and through —read every p;ige of me, and if 
 you find a line to be ashamed on, tell me of it, and I'll score 
 it through." 
 
 Jenny, {demurehj) I daresay Mr. Spreadbrow is much as 
 other young men are. 
 
 Wilcox. As other young men ? Xo, no— Lord forbid, miss ! 
 Come — say a good word for him, miss, poor yomig gentlumau. 
 He's said many a good word (;f you, I'll go bail. 
 
 Jhnny, Of me? 
 
 Wilcox, {takes ladder w/n'cJi is leaninij ognimt the house and 
 jjlaccs it against iqyjier porch of house, ami f/oin;/ a little loay up 
 it, speaks this speech front it — .Jr.NNv remains seaMl L. of table, 
 takinn off her r/arden f/lores and lonkinfj anunf/rd, she takes off 
 her hat and places it on hack of i\. choir h/f toh'r) Aye. Why 
 only Toosday, when I was at work agaiii the high road, 
 he rides up on his little bay 'oss, and he stands talking 
 to me over the hedge and straininir Ids neck to catch 
 a sight of you at a window, that was Toosday. "Well, 
 Wilcox," says he, " it's a fine day !" — it rained hard 
 Toosday, but it's always a line day with him. " How's 
 Miss Northcott?" says he. "Pretty well, sir," says I. 
 " Pretty she always is ; and wtdl she ought to be if tlie 
 best of hearts and the sweetest of natures will do it !" 
 Well, I knew that, so ofl^'l goes to another subj(;ct. an<l tries to 
 interest him in drainage and subsoils ;ind Junction pip*'s, but 
 no, nothin' would do for him but he must brioi; the tidk l)ack 
 to you. So at last 1 gets sick of it, and 1 n|) and says : " l^ook'ye 
 here Mr. Spreadbrow," ."^ays I, " I'm only the gardener. This 
 ia Toosdav and Miss Northcott's pa's in the study, and I 
 
 if 
 
 i. 
 
!!|i 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 dessay he'll be happy to hear what you've got to say about 
 her. Lord it'd ha' douo your hciit cjood to seo liow hr 
 flushed up as he stuck his .spurs into the bnv, and rode o!i 
 fifteen mile to the hour! (/««////////) Tiiat was 'rtjos(l;iy. 
 
 Jenny, {very anyvilu) Ho liad no right to talk ahout me to 
 a servant. 
 
 Wilcox, {coming rlmm from hifh.lrr) I'lit Ijlcf^.s you, don't 
 be hard on him, he couldn't ludj) it, miss. l»ut dm't yuu 
 be alarmed, he's going away to-night, for many and many 
 a long year, and you won't never bo troiiljjed with him 
 agaiti. lie's going with a heavy heart, tako my word lor 
 it, and 1 see his eyes all wet, when he spok(! about sayiu' 
 good-bye to you; he'd the sorrow in his tlroat, but he's 
 a brave lad, and he gulped it down, tliotigh it was as 
 big as an apjde. (riuf/) Tliere he is. {f/'»'i"/) Soothe him 
 kindly, miss — don't you be afraid, you're safe enough now — 
 he's a good lad, and he can't do no harm now. 
 
 Exit Wiu ox, L. u. E., over bridge. 
 
 Jennv. What does he want to go to day for ? he wa.sn't going 
 for three months. He could rcntain if he liked ; India has gone 
 on very well without him for five thousand years, it could have 
 waited three months longer; but men arte always in such a 
 hurry. He might have told me before— he would have done 
 so, if he really, really liked me ! 1 wouhln't have left /lim — yes 
 I would, — but then that's different. Well, if some people can 
 go, some people can remain behind, and some other people 
 will be only too glad to tind some people out of their way 1 
 
 Enter Spreadbrow, followed hj Wilcox, l. u. e. - 
 
 (Jenny stiddenly changes her manner, rises and crosses to v..) 
 Oh, Mr. Spreadbrow, how-d'ye-do ? Quite well? I'm so glad! 
 Sisters quite well? That's right — how kind of you to think 
 of my tree! So you are really and tridy going to India 
 to-night? That is sudden ! 
 
 Spread. Yes, very sudden— terribly sudden. I only heard 
 of my appointment two days ago. in London, and I'm to join 
 my ship to-night. It's very sudden indeed — and— and I've 
 come to say good-bye. 
 
 Jenny. Good-bye. {of ering Tier hand) 
 
 Spread. Oh, but not like that, Jenny ! Are you in a hurry? 
 
 Jenny. Oh dear no, I thouglit you were; won't you sit 
 down? (/A^/ »if— Jenny, r., Spkeadurow, l., of table) And 
 so your sisters are quite well? 
 
 Spread. Not very ; they are rather depressed at my going 
 80 soon. It may seem strange to you, but they will miss me. 
 
 Jenny. I'm sure they will. I should be terribly distressed 
 
[Act 1. 
 
 say about 
 ?en liow III' 
 11(1 rode oit' 
 «(l;iy. 
 il)oiit nie to 
 
 1 you, don't 
 . don't yon 
 
 .'ind many 
 
 I with him 
 y word for 
 bout say in' 
 t, but he's 
 
 it WHS as 
 50othe him 
 >ugh now — 
 
 over bridge. 
 'Asn't going 
 lia has ^'one 
 couhl have 
 s in such a 
 liave done 
 t him — yes 
 people can 
 lier people 
 I' way ! 
 
 U. E. . 
 
 osses to R.) 
 'm so glad ! 
 
 II to thuik 
 ; to India 
 
 )nly heard 
 'm to join 
 —and I've 
 
 II a hurry? 
 vou .sit 
 hk) And 
 
 my going 
 
 mi.ss me. 
 
 distressed 
 
 Act 1.] 
 
 SWEETIIKARTS. 
 
 ".) 
 
 at your going— if I were your sister. And you're going for 
 80 long ! 
 
 Si'KiiAD. I'm not likely to r(!tnrn tor a ;^ri'at many years. 
 
 Jenny, {with a little Hiipju'esHnl cmntion) I'm so sorry we 
 shall not see y(ni attain. Papa wi'i l»e very sorry. 
 
 Spukad. ^iore sorry than you will be? 
 
 Jenny. Well, no, I shall be very sorry, too — very, very 
 sorry— there! 
 
 SrREAD. How very kind of you to say so. 
 
 Jenny. We have known eacli otinr so long — so many years, 
 and we've always been good friends, and it's always satl to say 
 good-bye for the last time {he in ililiffhted) to anybody ! {he 
 relapses) It's so very sad when one knows for certain that it 
 mml be the last time. 
 
 Si'UEAD. I cant tell you how happy I am to hear you s&y 
 it's so sad. liut {hopejuJln) my prospects are not altogether 
 hopeless, th.ere's one ch;ince i'or jne yet. I'm happy to say 
 I'm extremely delicate, and there's no knowin^^ tiie climate 
 may not agree with me, and I may be invalided home? {vei'y 
 cheer/nil ij) 
 
 Jknny. Oh ! but that would be very dreadful. 
 
 Spread. Oh yes, of course it would be dreadful, in one 
 sense; but it — it would have it's advantages, {looking uneasily 
 a< Wilcox, who is hard at work) Wilcox is hard at work, I see. 
 
 Jenny. Oh, yes, Wilcox is hard at work. lie is very 
 industrious. 
 
 Spkeai:). Confoutidcdiy industrious ! He is working in the 
 sun without hi.s int. Uignijicanthj) 
 
 Jenny. Poor t'dlow. 
 
 Spread. Isn't it injudicious, at his age? 
 
 Jenny. Oh, I don't think it will hurt him. 
 
 Sphead. I really think it will, {he lautions to her to send Mm 
 away) 
 
 Jenny. Do you? Wilcox, Mr. Spreadlirow is terribly 
 distressed because you are working in the sun. 
 
 WiLOOX. Thai's 'mortal good of liini, {aside, innlcing) They 
 want me to go. All ri^ht ; he can't do much harm now. {aloud) 
 Well, sir, the sun is hot, and I'll go and look after the 
 cucumbers away yonder, right at the other end of the garden. 
 (WiLCO.x going— '6viiK wV'how is dcli'/htcd) 
 
 Jenny. No, no, no !— don't go away ! Stop here, only put 
 on your hat. That's what Mr. Spreadurow n)eant. (WiLCOX 
 puts on his hat) There, 7iow are you happy? (to Spreadbrow, 
 who loolcs inisi'i'ohle) 
 
 Spread. I supiiose it will soon be his dinner time? 
 
 Jenny. Oh, he has dined. You hare dined, haven't you, 
 Wiljox ? 
 
 I 
 
8 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Wilcox. Oli, yes, miss, Fve dined, thank'ye kindly. 
 
 Jenny. Yoh ; he has dined I Oh ! I (iuife forgot ! 
 
 Spkead. Wiiat? 
 
 Jenny. I must iiitornipt you for.'i moment, Wilcox; I quite 
 forgot that I promised t" scmuI some fh)\vors to Captain Dampier 
 this afternoon. Will v ^u cut them for me? 
 
 Wilcox. Yes, miss, knoiringhi) Out of the conservatory, 
 I suppose, miss? (WiL('<'\ (joiixj, ^vwv.xmwmw a an In <lcli<ihted) 
 
 Jknny, No, these will i\i\. (jinintiiiff to open-air Jlmrcr beds — 
 Spkeadmhow (ujain disaj'/ioiutcd) Stop, on second thoughts 
 perhaps you /aid Letter take them oit of the conservatory, 
 and cut them carefully — there's no hurry. 
 
 Wir.cox. (aside) I understand ! Well, poor yount,' chap, 
 let him be, let him be; he's soing to be turned oflf to-night, aud 
 his last meal may as well be a hearty oni;. Kxit, R. 1 r. 
 
 Si'READ. (rises in greed delight) How good of you — how 
 very kind of you ! 
 
 JiiNNY. To send Captain Dampier some Howers? 
 
 SPJtHAi). (much </i.saj>/i(iii, led) Do you really want to send 
 that fellow some flowers? 
 
 Ji:nny. 'J'o be sure I do. [crosses, L.) Why should I have 
 asked Wilcox to cut them? 
 
 Spri:ai). I thought— I was a great fool to think so— but I 
 thought it might have been because we could talk mure plea- 
 santly alone. 
 
 Jenny. I really wanted some ilowers ; but as you say, we 
 certainly can talk more pleasantly alone, {crosses, R., she 
 busies herself tvith prepuring the sijcdiiiore) 
 
 Spread. I've often thouiiht that nothiiiij: is such a check on 
 — pleasant conversation — as the presence of — ot—a gardener — 
 who is not interested in the subject of conversation. 
 
 Jenny, {gets the tree and rids off' the mcdiing udtli ivhich it is 
 hound, ivith garden scissors ichich she lias brought irith her from 
 the table) Oh, but Wilcox is very interested in everything that 
 concerns you. Do let me call him back, {about to do so) 
 
 Spread. No, no ; not on my account ! 
 
 Jenny. He and I were having quite a discussion about you 
 when you arrived, {digging a hole for tree) 
 
 Spread. About me? 
 
 Jenny. Yes ; indeed we almost quarrelled about you. 
 
 Spread. What, was he abusini;- me then? 
 
 Jenny. Oh, no; he was speaking of you in the highest 
 terms. 
 
 Spread, {much t<d:en aback) Then — you were abusing me ! 
 
 Jenny. N — no, not exactly that; I — 1 didn't agree with all 
 he said — {lie is much depressed, she notices this) at least, not 
 openly. 
 
[Act 1. 
 
 Ily. 
 
 ; 1 quite 
 Dampier 
 
 ?rvatory, 
 Mi (//i ted) 
 er beds — 
 thoughts 
 ervatory, 
 
 w^ chap, 
 ight, aud 
 /, n. 1 E. 
 ou — how 
 
 to send 
 I I have 
 
 3-bllt I 
 
 say, we 
 H., she 
 
 :hcck on 
 dener — 
 
 liich it is 
 er from 
 ing that 
 so) 
 
 out you 
 u. 
 
 highest 
 
 me ! 
 
 with all 
 
 ast, not 
 
 ACTI.] 
 
 SWECTIIEAKTS. 
 
 Spread, {hopefullif) Then you did secretly? 
 Jknnv. 1 «liairt tell you. 
 Spkead. Why V 
 
 Jenny, llecauso it will make you dreadfully vain. TIkmc! 
 Si'UKAi). [ikliyhted) \'ery — very dreadfully vain? ijtc takes 
 her hand) 
 
 Ji:nny. Very dreadfully vain indeed. Don't! (withdraws 
 her haiul — during this .s/c Is di[/(jinr/ the. hole kneeling ou the edge 
 of the flower bed, he odcanees to her and kneels on edge of bed 
 near her) 
 
 Spread. Do you know it's most (hdightful to hoar you say 
 that? It's without exception the most astonishingly pleasant 
 thing I've ever heard in the whole course of my life ! {sees the 
 sycamore) Is that the tree I brought you? {ri»csfroni his knees) 
 Jenny. Yes. I'm going t(» plant it Ju>t in front of the 
 drawing-room window, so that I can see it whenever 1 look 
 out. Will you help me? {he prepares to do so — site puts it 
 into the hole) Is that quite straiglit? Hold it up, please, while 
 I dll in the earth, {he holds it while she fills in the earth — 
 gradually his hand slips down till it tonches hers) It's no use, 
 Mr. Spreadbrow, our both holding it in the same place ! {he 
 runs his hand tip the stem (piickly) 
 Spread. I beg your pardon— very foolish of me. 
 Jenny. Very. 
 
 Spread. I'm very glad there will be something here to 
 make you think of me when I'm many many thousand miles 
 away, Jenny. For I shall be always thinking of ifou. 
 
 Jenny. Keally, now that's very nice! It will be so 
 delightful, and so odd to know that there's somebody thinking 
 about me right on the other side of the world ! 
 
 Spread, {sighing) Yes. It ivill be on the other side of the 
 world ! 
 
 Jenny. But that's the delightfid part of it — right on the 
 other side of the world 1 It will be such fun ! 
 Spread. Fun ! 
 
 Jenny. Of course, the farther j^ou are away the funnier it 
 will seem, {he is oppi-oaching her again) Now keep on the other 
 side of the world. It's just the distance that gives the point 
 to it. There are dozens and dozens of people thinking of mo 
 close at hand, {she rises) 
 
 Spread, {taking her hand) But not as I think of you, Jenny 
 — dear, dear Jenny, not as I've thought of y<ni for years and 
 years, though I never dared tell you so till now. I caii't bear 
 to think that anybody else is tliinking of you kindly, earnestly, 
 aeriously, as I think of you. 
 
 Jenny, {earnestly) You may be quite sure, Harry, (piite, quite 
 Bure that you will be the only one who is thinking of me kindly, 
 
 J! 
 
 ? 
 
1 (; 
 
 &> 
 
 fiWiJOTIIlOAf'cs. 
 
 fAcT 1. 
 
 ^, Jenny. No^ do, ' f ' iV'"'!'"' ^^''>-« ««. remove i> 
 
 vl':^;:^.'-'^'"-'*) Vo,. see,,, to a,i„,,, c«,u„,-„ D^n- 
 Jenny, i think !,„ .,, ' ""mpie,- 
 
 Sp«e.„. Hoiat. ,S«r''-'"°'"'"«' Don't you » 
 Jennv. Perhaps he'll gJslt~ '"'• •'' ^""•11 ma„. ' ^'"' " 
 
 "oliiyoii bulbre; b 
 
 "'■■'•i-rii^r.fir-'ri-^'i.t^^^ 
 
 ES:^"i^":^.;^eattet-f -i^..::;^ 
 
 married to-tn ;'""''''• 
 to— to— my cousin 
 
fACTl. 
 
 Ji'i. {he relapses 
 
 'V'll sit imder it 
 I'le old play- 
 
 vvill never live 
 
 very raj) idly, 
 f tree n'yht in 
 n\ the view, it 
 lowhere else, 
 it down when 
 ,1'iit it will, n(, 
 ore it becomes 
 
 ? tree in front 
 
 )ye it. 
 
 *in iMmpier ; 
 |ma(tt!rs. 
 I'SHt deal of 
 
 loi'e of liiin • 
 
 in Dcimpier 
 : you? 
 
 ACTl.] 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 11 
 
 ilways ? 
 
 lay. 
 
 you knew ! 
 ve heard 
 on't keop 
 it will bi; 
 ever likod 
 t onc(>! 
 ought to 
 ou knew, 
 iy cousin 
 
 Spread, (intensely relieved) To your cousin Emmie. Oh, 
 thank you, thank you, thank you ! Oh, my dear, dear Jenny, 
 do — do let nic take your hand, (takes her hand and shakes it 
 enthusiastically) 
 
 Jenny. Are you Roing ? 
 
 Spread. No. {rcleusinf/ It — nvirh Mat down) I was goiig to 
 ask you to do me a great favour, and [ thouglit I could ask it 
 better if I had hold of your hand. 1 was going to ask you if 
 you would give me a tlowor— any tlower, 1 don't tare what it is. 
 
 Jenny, {afectitiff surprise) A tlower ? Why, of •ourse I 
 will. Butwliy? 
 
 Spread, {earnestly) That I may take a token of you and of 
 our parting wherever I go, that I may possess an emblem of 
 you that I shall never — never part v.itli, that I can carry 
 about with me night and day wherever 1 go, throughout my 
 whole life. 
 
 Jenny, {apparently much affected^ crosses slowly to n., stoops 
 and takes up large geranium in pot) Will this be too bigV 
 
 Spread, {disconcerted) But I mean a tlower -only a dower. 
 
 Jenny. Oh, but do have a bunch 1 "Wilcox shall pick you 
 a beauty. 
 
 Spread. No, no; I want you to pick it for me. I don't care 
 what it is — a daisy will do — \i you pick it for me I 
 
 Jenny. What an odd notion! {crossiiig to Jlowcr stand, L., 
 and picking a piece of mignonette — he puts doion Jiowcr pot l>y 
 bed, R.) There 1 {picking a flower and giving it to him) will 
 that do? 
 
 Spread. I can't tell you how inestimably I shall prize this 
 flower. I will keep it while I live, and whatever good fortune 
 may be in stare for me, nothing can ever be so precious in 
 my eyes. 
 
 Jenny. I had no f9ea you were so fond of flowers. Oh, do 
 have some more ! 
 
 Spread. No, no — but — you must let me give you this in 
 return ; I brought it for you, Jenny dear — dear Jenny I Will 
 you take it from me ? {takes a rose from his button hole, and 
 offers it) 
 
 Jenny, {amused and surprised) Oh yes! {takes it and puts it 
 down on the table carelessly — he notices this loitli much emotion) 
 
 Spread. Well, I've got to say good-bye ; there's no reason 
 why it shouldn't be said at once, [holding out his hand) Good- 
 bye, Jenny I 
 
 Jenny, {cheerfully) Grood-byc! {he stands for a moment 
 with her hand in his — she crosses to iwrch, r.) 
 
 Spread. Haven't— haven't you anything to say to me? 
 
 Jenny, {aflo^ thinking it over) No, I don't think there's 
 anything else. No — nothing, {she leans against the porch — he 
 stands over her) 
 
 \ I 
 
 U' 
 

 12 
 
 SWEETHEAUTS. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 i ii 
 
 Spread. Jenny, I'm going away to-f1ay, for years and years, 
 or I wouldn't say what I'm going to say — at lej\>t nut yet. 
 I'm little more than a boy, Jenny; but if I were eiglity, I 
 couldn't be more in earnest— indeed 1 couhhi't! Parting for 
 80 many years is like death to me ; and if I don't say what I'm 
 going to say before I go, 1 shall never have the plnek id say it 
 after. We were boy and girl together, and— and I loved you 
 then — and every year I've loved yon more and more; and now 
 that I'm a man, and you are nearly a woman, 1 — I, Jenny 
 dear — I've nothing more to say ! 
 
 Jenny. How you astonish me ! 
 
 Sprkad. Astonish you? Why, you know that I loved you. 
 
 Jenny. Yes, yes; as a Doy loves a girl — but now that I am 
 a woman it's impossible that you can care for me. 
 
 Spread. Impossible— because you are a woman! 
 
 Jenny. You see it's so unexpected. 
 
 Spread. Unexpected V 
 
 Jenny. Yes. As children it didn'X matter, but it seems so 
 Bhocking for grown people to talk about such things. And then, 
 not gradually, but all at once — in a few minutes. It's awful ! 
 
 Spread. Oh, Jenny, think. I've no time to delay — my 
 having to go has made me desperate. One kind word from 
 you will make me go away happy : without that word, I shall 
 go in unspeakable sorrow. Jenny, .Jenny, say one kind word! 
 
 Jenny. {earnealUj) Tell me what to say? 
 
 Spread. It must come from you, mv darling ; say whatever 
 is on your lips — whether for good or ill — I can bear it now. 
 
 Jenny. Well, then : I wish you a very very pleasant 
 voyage— and I hope you will be happy and pros})orous— and 
 you must take great care of yourself — and you can't think how 
 glad 1 shall l)c to know that you think of me, now and then, 
 in India. There ! 
 
 Spread. Is that all ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes, I think that's all. {rejit'ctlvehj) Yes— that's all. 
 
 Spread. Thou — {willi great emotion tcliich he stnifff/lcs to 
 
 suppress) there's nothing left but to say giud-bye— (.t/^/s/c e'/i 
 
 orchestra nil end of Art, ^ (jood-hi/ey SwcolfiarC) and I ho[)C 
 
 you will always be hajipy, and that, when you marry, you 
 
 will marry a good fellow who will — who will— who will — 
 
 good-bye ! Exit, rapldbj. 
 
 (Jknny' tvntches him nut — sits down, leaving the f/(de ojien — 
 
 hums an air (jaihj — looks round to sfc if he is couiing 
 
 back— goes on hummimj — takes up lhcjl<iu;er hi' has given 
 
 her — plays v'ith it —(/r.idun/ly falters, ami at last bursts 
 
 into team, luijin;/ her Iwad on the table over the flower he 
 
 has given her, aud sobbing viohndhj as the Curtain falls) 
 
 END or TIIK FIKST ACT, 
 
t^CT 1. 
 
 'ears and years, 
 t le}i>t nut yet. 
 were eighty, 1 
 . ! Parting for 
 t say what I'm 
 pluck t(i say it 
 ml 1 loved you 
 more; and now 
 I, 1 — I, Jenny 
 
 at I loved you. 
 now that I am 
 le. 
 lan I 
 
 but it seem? so 
 ngs. And then, 
 i. It'sawlul! 
 to delay — my 
 nd word from 
 t word, I sliall 
 me kind word! 
 
 ; say whatever 
 bear it now. 
 very pleasant 
 "O.si)orous— and 
 an't think how 
 now and then, 
 
 fes— tliat's all. 
 kc stnifjf/lcs to 
 }yo— {Music in 
 ") and I hoi)e 
 ou marry, you 
 li — who will — ■ 
 Exit, rapidly, 
 the ifatc open — 
 f he is coming 
 ;ei' hi' lias given 
 I at last bursts 
 r the flover he 
 Curtain falls) 
 
 i 
 
 \ w 
 
^ 
 
I 
 
1 
 
 s 
 
 Sj 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 L 
 
Act 2.] 
 
 SWEETIIKARTS, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — The Same as in Act /., with such addithm and cJianqoa 
 as may be supposed to have taken place in thiitij years. 
 T'he house, v;hich was hare i a Act I., is nou) eiitirdy covrred 
 with Virf/inia and other creepers ; the garden is mncli more 
 fully planted than in Act 1., and trees that were small in Act I. 
 are tall and bushy now ; the ycneral arraiif/einent of die yardcii 
 18 the same, except that the sycamore planUd in Act I. has 
 developed into a laryit tree, the bout/hs (f lehich roof in the 
 stage; the landscape has also loidrrgone a metamorphosis, 
 inasmuch as that which xoas open country in .let I. is now 
 covered ivith picturcsipie semi-dctaclipd ril'as, and there are 
 indications of a large town in the dit^lance. The month is 
 Sejjlemher, and the leaves of the Virginia creepers wear their 
 Autumn tint. Music in orchestra for rise of curtain. 
 
 Jenny discovered seated on a bench at the fool of the tree, and 
 Ruth is standing by her side, holding a skein of eotUm, which 
 Jenny is winding. JiiNNV is now a pleasant-looking middle- 
 aged lady. 
 
 Jenny. Have yon any fault to tiiul with poor Torn V 
 
 Ruth. No, miss, I've no fault to Und with Toni. lUit a girl 
 can't marry every young man she don't tind fault with, can 
 she now, miss ? 
 
 Jenny. Certainly not, Kuth. But Tom seems to think you 
 have given him some cause to believe that you are fund of him. 
 
 Ruth, {bridling up) It's hke his impudence, miss, to saj' so! 
 Fond of him indeed ! 
 
 Jenny. He hasn't said so, Kuth, but I'm ([uite sure he 
 thinks so. I have noticed of late that you have taken a foolish 
 pleasure in playing fast and loose with poor 'r-'Hi, and tliis 
 has made him very unhappy, very unhappy indeed, so much 
 ro that I think it is very likely that he will make up his mind 
 to leave my service altogether. 
 
 Ruth, (piqued) Oh, miss, if Tom can make up bis mind to 
 go, I'm sure /wouldn't stand in his way for worlds. 
 
 Jenny. But I think you would be sorry if he did. 
 
 Ruth. Oh yes, misS; I should be sorry to part with Tom! 
 
 Jenny. Then I think it's only ri],'ht to tell you that the 
 foolish fellow talks about cidisting for a soldier, and if he does 
 it at all, he will do it to-ni^^dit. 
 
 Ruth, {urith some emotion) Oh, miss, for that, I do like Tom 
 very much indeed • but if he wants to 'list, of course he's his 
 
 . f 
 
II 
 
 
 14 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 own master, and, if he's retilly fond of me what does he want 
 to go and 'list for? {[i<>iii<i to cnj) One would think he would 
 like to be where he toidd talk to me, and look at me— odd 
 times! I'm .sure 1 don't want Tom to go and 'list! 
 
 Jknny. Then take the advice of an old lady, who knows 
 BOMietliing of these matters, and tell him so before it's too 
 late — you foolish— foolish girl! Ah, Uuth, I've no right to be 
 liard on you ! I've been a young and foolish girl like yourself 
 in my time, and I've done many thoughtless things that I've 
 learnt to be very sorry for. Im not reproachini,' you — but 
 I'm speaking to you out of the fulness of my experience, and 
 take my word for it, if you treat poor Tom lightly, you may 
 live to be very sorry for it too! {takmr/ her hand) There, I'm 
 not angry with you, my dear, but if I'd taken the advice I'm 
 giving you, I shouldn't be a lonely old lady at it time of life 
 when ji good husband has his greatest value, (ring) Go and 
 see who's at the gate ! 
 
 EmI Jenny — Kltii goes to the gate, wiping her eyes on her 
 apron — she oi)ens it. 
 
 Enter Spukadijhow {now SiR Henry), l. u. e, 
 
 Spnr.AD. My dear, is this Mr. Braybrook's? 
 
 Ki-Tii. Yes,' sir. 
 
 Spread. Is he at home? 
 
 Kltii. No, sir, he is not ; but mistress is. 
 
 Spread. ^Vill you give your mistress my card? (feeling for 
 Ids card case) Dear me, I've left my cards at home — never 
 mind —will you tell your mistress that a gentleman will be 
 greatly indebted to her, if she will kindly spare him a few 
 minutes of her time? Do you think you can charge yourself 
 ^fith that message? 
 
 lirni. Mistress is in the garden, sir, I'll run and tell her if 
 you'll take a sL\-it Exit KuTil, R. U. E. 
 
 Spread. That's a good girl! (he sits on seat) I couldn't 
 make up my mind to pass the old house without framing an 
 excuse to take a peep at it. {lodes round) Very nice — very 
 pretty — hut, deal me, on a very much smaller scale than I 
 fancied. Kemarkable changes in thirty years I (rises and walks 
 ronndtree, loohing about ami fiiiinliiitf/ hin s/x'erh dovn .stage, L.C.) 
 Why the place is a town, and a railway runs right through it. 
 And this is really the ohl garden in which I si)(.'nt so many 
 j)h'asant hours? Poor little .Icnny ! — I wonder what's become 
 of her? I'lctty little girl, but with a tetidcnev to stoutness; if 
 she's alive, I'll be bound siies fat. So this is .Mr. Iirayhrook's, 
 is it? I wonder who Br.iybrook is— I dnn't riMnomher any 
 family of that name lierL'abouts. {lnoling off') This, I 
 
mm^WM 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 vhat clofis he want 
 (I think he would 
 
 look at me— odd 
 'I 'list ! 
 
 lady, who knows 
 so before it's too 
 
 've no right to be 
 1 girl like yourself 
 » things that I've 
 oachini,' you— but 
 y experience, and 
 
 lightly, you may 
 hand) Thore, I'm 
 en the advice I'm 
 .' at a time of life 
 e. (ring) Go and 
 
 in(/ her eyes on her 
 
 '), L. u. E. 
 
 3ard? {feeling for 
 at home— never 
 
 entleman will be 
 spare him a few 
 
 n charge yourself 
 
 •un and tell her if 
 
 rit KUTJI, R. U. E. 
 
 seat) I couldn't 
 thout framing an 
 Very nice— very 
 Her scale than I 
 ! {rises and walks 
 
 do (I- n stage, L.C.) 
 right through it. 
 I sjtt'iit so many 
 er wjiat's become 
 v to stoutness; if 
 Mr. Rraylirijok's, 
 't rciiieiiiher any 
 / off) This, I 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 s\vi:i:Tm:Aia'S. 
 
 15 
 
 suppose, is y\\->. l^ravhrook. Now, how in the world am I 
 to account for my visit? 
 
 Enter Jr.NNY — she cur tse^js formally^ he hows, 
 
 I beg your pu-don, I hardly know how to explain this intrusion. 
 Perhaps I iiad better state »ny tacts, they will plead my 
 apoldgv :— I am an old Indian civilian, who, having returned 
 to England after many years' absence, is whiling away a day 
 in his native p ace, and amusing himself with polishing old 
 memories — bright enough once, but sadly tarnished— sadly 
 tarnished I 
 
 Ji:nny. Indeed? May I hope that you have succeeded? 
 
 Si'UKAD. InditVcrentlywell— indilferently well. The fact is, I 
 hardly know where I am, for ail my old landmarks are swept 
 away ; I assure you I am within the mark, when I say that 
 this house is positively the only place I can identify. 
 
 Jenny. The town has increased very rapidly of late. 
 
 Srni:AD. I'apidly! Wiien I left, there were not twenty 
 houses in the place, but (poUichj) that was long before your 
 time. I left a vilhii^je, I tind a town — I left a beadle, I find a 
 mayor and corporation — I left a pujnj), I tind a statue to a 
 borough member. The inn is a " Palace Hotel Conipany — " 
 the almshouse a county jail — the pound is a police station, 
 and the Common a colony of semi-detached bungalows! 
 Everything changed, including myself— everything new, except 
 myself— ha, ha! 
 
 Jenny. I shall be glad to olTer you any assistance in my 
 power. I should be a good miide, for I have lived here thirty- 
 two years I 
 
 iSi'HKAp. Thirty-two years! is it possible? Then surely 
 I ought to know you? {ho. fcch far his ijlusacs) My name is 
 Spreadhrow — 8ir Henry Sprcadbrow ! 
 
 Jenny. Spreadhrow! {jintling an speclar.lrs) Is it possible? 
 Why, mv very dear old friend, {offering both her hands) don't 
 you recollect me? 
 
 Spiiead. {he 2)iifs on his donhleei/e-glass, tedres hoth her hands) 
 God bless me! — is it possiljle! — and this is really you !--you 
 don't say so ! Dear mo, dear n-e ! Well, well, well ! I assure 
 you 1 am delighted, most nnalVectedly ileliuhted. to renew our 
 friendship ! {shaking hands ay lin — theg sit und( r tree, C. — 
 look at each other carious!;/) 
 
 SiMJEAD. (L.) Not changed a bit. My dear Jane, you really 
 must allow me. {t/ag shake hands again And now tell me, 
 how is Mr. UraybrookV 
 
 Ji:nny. (i:., rather xurprised) Oh, Mr. I'raybrortk is very well; 
 I expect him home presently; he will be very glad to see you, 
 for he has often heard me speak of you. 
 
 i 
 
•I! 
 
 16 
 
 fiWEETIlEAKTS. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 Spread. Has he inlct'd? It will give me the cireatest — the 
 very greatest [lossible i)lt'asme, believe me, {''cri/ enqi/mlically) 
 to make his acquaintance. 
 
 Jenny, {sd/l surjn-ised at his emphatic inannci') I'm sure he 
 will be delighted. 
 Spread. Now tell me all about yourself. Any family? 
 Jknnv. {i)ii:::le<l) 1 beg your pardon t* 
 Spread. Any family? 
 Jenny. Mr. IJraybrook? 
 
 Spread. Well — yes 
 
 Jr.NNY. Mr. IJravbrook is a bachelor. 
 Si'READ. A bachelor? TIumi let mo understand— am I not 
 speaking to Mrs. Braybrook ? 
 
 Ji:nny. No, indeed you arc not! lla, ha! {)umh aumsed) 
 Mr. liraybrook is my nephew ; the place belongs to him now. 
 Spread. Oh ! Then, my dear Jane, may I ask who you are? 
 
 Jenny. I am not married 
 
 Spiiead. Not married ! 
 Jenny. No; I keep house for my nephew. 
 Spread. \Vhy, you don't mean to sit there and look me in 
 the face and tell me, after thirty years, that you are still Jane 
 Northbrook? 
 Jenny, {rather hurt at the mistalce) Northcott. 
 Spread. Northcott, of course. I beg your pardon — I 
 shouM have said Northcott. And vou are not Mrs. liravbrook ? 
 You are not even married! AVliy what were they about — 
 what were they about? Not married I Well, now do you 
 know I am very sorry to hear that. I am really more sorry 
 and disappointed than I can tell you. {ahe looks surprised and 
 rather hurt) You'd have made an admirable wife, Jane, and an 
 admirable mother. I car/t tell you how sorry 1 am to iind 
 that you are still Jane Northbrook— 1 should say, Northcott. 
 
 Jenny. The same in name — much changed in everything 
 else, {siyhiuf/) 
 
 Spread. Changed? Not a bit— I won't hear of it. I 
 knew you the moment I saw you? We are neithei of us 
 changed. Mellowed perhaps — a little mellowed, but what of 
 thf t ? AVho shall say that the blossom is pleasanler to look 
 U]>on than the fruit? Not I for one, Jane — not I for one. 
 
 Jenny. Time has dealt very kindly with us, but we're old 
 folks now, Henry Spreadbrow. {rise and f/D down a little, R.) 
 
 Spread. I won't allow it, Jane — I won't hear it. {rise) What 
 constitutes youth ? A head of hair? Not at all; I was as 
 bald as an egg at five-ami twenty — babies are always bald. 
 Eyesight? Some people are born blind. Years? Years are 
 an arbitrary impertinence. Am I an old man or you an old 
 woman, because the earth contrives to hurry round the sun in 
 
I 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 Ejreatest — the 
 7 einji/uilk'o/ly) 
 
 ) I'm sure he 
 
 y family ? 
 
 iiul— am I not 
 
 [iimch aiiiKsed) 
 s to liiin now, 
 who you are ? 
 
 nd look me in 
 are still Jane 
 
 ur pardon — I 
 
 s.Hray brook? 
 
 they about — 
 
 MOW do you 
 
 ly more sorry 
 
 Sfirprised and 
 
 Jane, and an 
 
 1 am to lind 
 
 , Nurthcott. 
 
 in everything 
 
 ear of it. I 
 neithei of us 
 . bm what of 
 antor to look 
 
 for one. 
 lut we're old 
 I a little, R.) 
 
 {rise) What 
 
 all ; i was as 
 
 always b:iM. 
 
 ? Years are 
 
 r you an old 
 
 nd the sun in 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 BWEETHEAIiTS. 
 
 17 
 
 three hundred and pixty-fivc days? AVIiv t^aturn can't do it in 
 thirty years, if 1 liad Wvu l)(»rn on Suiini 1 should be two 
 years old, ma'am— a pul)lic nuisance in peiticoat>. Let us be 
 thankful that I was not burn on Satnrn. No — no, as long as I 
 can ride to cover twice a week, walk my live-and-twcnty miles 
 without turnim:^ a hai»', go to bcij at twelve, j^et up at six, turn 
 into a cold tul) and like it, I'm a boy, Jane— a boy— a boy ! 
 Jenny. And yrm are still unniairu'd? 
 
 Sn:i:AD. 1? Oh dear, yo-s -vi ry nincli so. No time to 
 think of n^arriage. Plenty yf opportunity, mind, but no 
 leisure to avail myself of it. I'vi' bail a bustling time of it I 
 assure you, Jane, workim; hard at tin; l»ar and on the PfCnch, 
 with .some success — with s(»nio succes:.; (alts ai/ain) and now 
 that I've done my work, 1 throw myself back in my easy chair, 
 fold my liands, cross my h-gs. and iirepare to enjoy myself. 
 Life is before; mo, and I'm goin/ to begin it. Ha, ha I And 
 80 we are really Jane Northcott still? 
 Jenny. Still Jane Northcott. 
 
 Spread. I'm indignant to hear it — I npsnre you that I am 
 positively indignant to hear it. You would have made some 
 fellow so infernally happy ; (ri.<if) I'm sorry for that fellow's 
 sake, 1 don't know him, but still I am sorry. Ah, I wish I 
 had remained in England. 1 do wish, for the very first time 
 since I left it, that 1 had rotnainod in England. 
 Jenny. Indeed ! And why ! 
 
 Spread. Why? liecanse I should have done my best to 
 remove that reproach from society. I should indeed, Jane! 
 Ha, ha! After all it don't much matter, for you wouldn't 
 have had me. Oh, yes 1 you had no idea of it ; but, do you 
 know, I've a great mind to tell you — I icill tell you. Do 
 you know I was in love with you at one lime ? Boy and girl, 
 you know— boy and girl. lia, ha ! you'd no idea of it, but I 
 was! 
 Jenny, (in wonder) Oh, yes; I knew it very well. 
 Spread, {much astonished) You knew it ? You knew that 
 t was attached to you 1 
 Jenny, ^^'hy of course I did! 
 
 Spread. Did you, indeed ! PJess me, you don't say so ! 
 Now that's amazin:j;ly curious. Leave a woman alone to find 
 that out ! It's instinctive, j)ositively instinctive. Now, my 
 dear Jane, I'm a very close student of human nature, and in 
 pursuit of that study 1 should like above all things to know by 
 what signs you detected my secret admiration for you. {takes 
 her haiul) 
 
 Jenny. Why, bless the man! Ihere was no mystery in the 
 matter ! You told me all it ! 
 Spread. 1 told you all about it? 
 
 \ 
 
19 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 Jenny. Cortnlnly you did— licro, in tliis prdcn. 
 Spread. That I admired vou — loved you ':* 
 Jenny. Most aivsurcdiy ! Surely you've not forgotten it. {he 
 drops Iter hand) I liaveirt, 
 
 Si'JJEAl). 1 romernlier that I had the imnei-tinence to be very 
 fond of you. I forgot that I had the iiii|tci tinence to (ell you so. 
 1 remember it now. I made a tool of niy.sclf. I reineud)er it l)y 
 that. I told you that 1 adored ycui, didn't l':* — that you were as 
 essential to me as the air I hn-athcd -that it was impossihle to 
 support existence without you— that your name should be the 
 most hallowed of earthly words, and so forth. 11a, ha! my 
 clear Jane, before I'd been a week on hoard I was saying 
 the same thing to a nwddle-aged governess whose name has 
 entirely escaped me. {ahe has cx/iihitcd .Hi;/iis of /t.'casure dwinrj 
 the earlier part of this iij)ecc/f, and disa/>i>')tiitinent at the last two 
 lines) What fools we make of ourselves! 
 Jenny. And of others! 
 
 Spread. Oh, I meant it Jane, I meant every word T said to 
 you. 
 
 Jenny. And the governcis? 
 
 Spread. And the governess ! I would have married you, 
 Jane. 
 
 Jenny. And the governess? 
 
 Spread. And the governess! I'd have married her, if she had 
 accepted me — but slie didn't. Perhaps it was as well — she was a 
 widow with five children — 1 cnrsed my destiny at the time, but 
 I've forgiven it since. 1 talked of blowing out my brains. Vm 
 glad 1 didn't do it as I've tonnd them usei'id in my profession. 
 Ha! ha! {looking round, cross! n;/ to u. — Jenny stands c, 
 watching him, her back to the audience) The place has changed 
 a good deal since my time -improved — improved — we've all 
 three improved. I don't quite like this tree though — it's in the 
 way. What is it? A kind of beech, isn't ic? 
 
 Jenny. No, it's a sycamore. 
 
 Spread. Ila! I don't understand English trees — but it's a 
 curious place for a big tree like this, just outside the drawing- 
 room window. Isn't it in tiio way? 
 
 .Jenny. It w rather in the way. 
 
 Spread. I don't like a tree before a window, it checks the 
 current of fresh air — don't you find that ? 
 
 .Jenny. It does cheek the current of fresh air. 
 
 Spread. Then the leaves blow into the house in autumn, 
 and that's a nuisance — aiul besides it impedes the view. 
 
 Jenny. It is certainly open to thoM! objections. 
 
 Spread. Then cut it down, my dear -lane, {crossing round 
 behind tree to l.) Why don't you cut it down? 
 
 Jenny. Cut it down ! i wouldn't cut it down for worlds. 
 
:'^ % . 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 )ttcn it. {he 
 
 > to be very 
 tell yon so. 
 (.Miiltt r it l)y 
 you were as 
 H)ossil)Ie to 
 iiihi l>c the 
 1,1, ha ! my 
 WHS .«aying 
 e name has 
 xitre durinrj 
 the last two 
 
 rd T said to 
 
 larried you, 
 
 Act 2.] 
 
 SWEETHEARTS 
 
 19 
 
 r, if she had 
 — hhe wHsa 
 li time, but 
 )i'ains. I'm 
 profession. 
 stdiids c, 
 IS changed 
 — we've all 
 —it's in the 
 
 —but it's a 
 le drawing- 
 checks the 
 
 in autumn, 
 
 ,iew. 
 
 ming round 
 for worlds. 
 
 That tree is identified in my mind with many happy recol- 
 KLlions. {mUs) 
 
 ►Simjkah. Keniarkable the influence exercised by associations 
 over a woni;ui's mind. Observe — you take a house, mainly be- 
 cause it cnnuiiaiids a biautiful view. You apportion tliu rooms 
 principally with reference to that view. You lay out your gar- 
 den at great expense to harmonize with that view, and having 
 bronght that view into the very best of all possible conditions 
 for tlie full enjoyimnt of it, you allow a gigantic and wholly 
 irrelevant tree to block it all out for the sak« of the Bcnti- 
 niental ghost of some dead and gone sentimental reality ! 
 Take my advice and Imve it down. If I had had anything 
 to do with it, you would never have planted it. I shouldn't 
 have allowed it ! <it 
 
 Ji:nny. You had so much to do with it that it was planted 
 there at your suggestion. 
 
 SiMiLAt*. At mine? Never saw it before in my life. 
 
 Ji:nnv. We planted it together thirty years ago — the day 
 you sailed for India. 
 
 Spkeai). It aj)pear8 to me that that was a very eventful day 
 in my career. We planted it together? I have no recollection 
 of having ever planted a gigantic sycamore anywhere. And we 
 did it together! Why, it would take a do/.en men to move it. 
 
 Jenny. It was a sapling then — you cut it for me. 
 
 Spkead. {Hiukhnlii (lud vu'th cnenjn) From the old sycamore 
 in the old garden at llanipstead! Why, I remember; I went 
 to London expressly to get it for you. {iatiijliimj—si'AuKj on her 
 left) And the next day I called to say good-bye and 1 found you 
 planting it, and 1 helped ; and as 1 was helping 1 found an op- 
 portunity to seize your hand, {dors so) I grasped it — pressed it 
 to my lips — {docs so) and said, " My dear, dear Jenny," {he drops 
 her hands suddenly) and so forth. Never mind irhat I said — but 
 I meant it — I meant it ! {laughs hcartibi— she joins him, but her 
 laughter is evidently forced — eventually she shows sir/ns of tears 
 lohich he doesn't notice) It all comes back with a distinctness 
 which is absolutely photographic. 1 begged you to give rae a 
 flower — you gave me one— a sprig of geranium. 
 
 Jenny. Mignonette. 
 
 Spread. Was it mignonette? 1 think you're right — it was 
 mignonette. I seized it— pressed it to my trembling lips — 
 placed it next my fluttering heart, and swoie that come what 
 might 1 would never never part with it ! 1 wcjnder what 1 did 
 with that llower !--and then I took one Ironi my button hole — 
 begged you to take it — you took it, and — ha, ha. ha! — you 
 threw it down carelessly on the table, and thought no more 
 about it, you heartless ereatnre — ha, ha, ha! Oh, I was very 
 angry! 1 remember it perfectly, it was a camellia. 
 
('i 
 
 I 
 
 20 
 
 SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 Jenny, {half crying— aside) Not a camellia, I think. 
 
 SritKAD. Yci, a camellia, a liirgu whit«! camellia. 
 
 Jknny. I dun*t titiuk it was a caiiit'Uia, I rather think it 
 was a rose. 
 
 Si'KKAi), Nonspnse, Jane — come, come, you hardly looked 
 at it, miseniblo little iiirt that you were; and you pretend, 
 after thirty years, to stake your recollection of the circum- 
 stance against mine? No, no, Jane, take my word for it, it 
 was a camellia. 
 
 Jenny. I'm sure it was a rose ! 
 
 Spread. No, I'm sure it was a camellia. 
 
 Jenny, (in tears) Indeed — indeed it was a rose, {produces a 
 withered rose from a pockct-boolc —he in nry much impressed — 
 loolis at it and at her, and scemt much aj/rctec/) 
 
 M'KEAD. Why, Jane, my dear Jane, you don't mean to say 
 that this is the very flower? 
 
 Ji:nny. That is the very flower I (rising) 
 
 SpuF'.ad. Strange ! You seemed to attach no value to 
 it when I gave it to you, you threw it away as something 
 utterly insignilicant ; and when I leave, you pick it up, and 
 keep it for thirty years ! (rising) My dear Jane, how like a 
 woman ! • 
 
 Jenny. And you seized the flower I gave you — pressed it 
 to your lips, and swore that wherever your good or ill fortune 
 might carry you, you would never part with it; and — and 
 you quite forget what became of it! My dear Harry, how 
 like a man ! 
 
 Spread. I was deceived, my dear Jane — deceived ! I had 
 no idea that you attached so much value to my flower. 
 
 Jenny. Wo were both deceived, Henry Spreadbrow. 
 
 Spread. Then is it ])ossible that in treating me as you did, 
 Jane, you were acting a part ? ^ 
 
 Jenny. Wo were both acting parts— but the play is over, 
 and there's an end of it. {with anaumed cheerfulness, crossing 
 to L.) Let us talk of something else. 
 
 Spread. No, no, Jane, the play is not over — we will talk of 
 nothing else — the play is not nearly over. (Music in orchestra, 
 ^^John Anderson my Joe^^) My dear Jane — (rising, and taking 
 her hand) my very dear Jane — believe me, for 1 speak from 
 my hardened old heart, so far from the play being over, the 
 serious interest is only just bei^inning. {he kisses her hand — 
 they walk towards the house.) 
 
 Slob) Cuiiatn. 
 
ik. 
 
 r think it 
 
 ly looked 
 
 I pretend, 
 
 J circum- 
 
 for it, it 
 
 ^'oducea a 
 pressed — 
 
 an to say 
 
 value to 
 oiiititliing 
 : uj), und 
 vf like a 
 
 iressed it 
 1 fortune 
 nd — and 
 ny, how 
 
 i I had 
 
 • 
 
 r. 
 
 you did, 
 
 is over, 
 crossing 
 
 talk of 
 'c/ti'stra, 
 I ti iking 
 .k from 
 .^er, the 
 hand— 
 
 SOUVENIR 
 
 OF 
 
 ¥he d^ldi'eri'^ fVdj^ 
 
 AT 
 
 GOVEBHMEHT HOUSE, 
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY, 
 
 1^74 - 
 
 1S75 
 1^76 - 
 1B77 
 1 S7S - 
 
 " Titania." 
 
 " (Prinoecs (Pussy Cat Jidew JAew." 
 
 - " Little Jiohody." 
 
 *' J/faiden Jdcna." 
 
 " Fifine, the Fisher-maid.^' 
 
 J 
 
 V 
 
.V% i. „ 
 
 s\ 
 
 '{ 
 
 11 
 
 t f. I 
 
 i! 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 w 
 
 
 TO 
 
 Spoken by the Hon. Terence ^Blackizvcd in tlis 
 character of '' ^Prince Emerald:' 
 
 Kind tricmlp, who've seen our little Cliristums play, 
 One word, bctbre you go, I'd like to .'ny. 
 
 For five bright New Year'y nights, our fairy scenes. 
 Our tales ot goblins, giants, kingH and queen.-'. 
 Our lair prince.'^ses, mennaids, coral cave.s, 
 Our wicked monster?, and our naughty knaves 
 We've brought before you; chielest of our cares, 
 To try to please you with our mimic airs. 
 
 "Titania," and her Court came first of all. 
 
 Five years ago the Court was very snuill ; 
 
 Some of our actors, then, could hardly talk, 
 
 And some indeed had not begun to walk. 
 
 For twelve months more our cojy.'.s' dramatu\xie grew, 
 
 'Till (■hrir-tmas brought us "Pussy Cat, Mew Mt-w." 
 
 With "Zoroa-tor" and " Kakaliban." 
 
 Periiaps you may remember that bud nian ; 
 
 His queer receipts for making girls and boys. 
 
 And *'Prinre 'J eckstailia," best of ail his toyi-. 
 
 Tiien " Little Nobotly " appeared : t'was I, 
 
 Your liundde servant, not so very higli ; 
 
 With such a pair of ogres ! Shocking lot ! 
 
 The}' quite deserved tlie punishment they got. 
 
 'J'hen " ^hiiden Mona," queen ot dainty wee things, 
 
 Fnjm seething waves, the la-t sweet thing in sea thing--, 
 
 Jh'ought us our Christmas fiui ; witii " Captain Pouncp," 
 
 Gay " Co(puttina," too, and " General Bounce." 
 
 This year, we've drawn one little story more 
 
 From fancies of our jjrivate fairy lore: — 
 
 " Fifine, the Fisher-nuvid." You wo'nt forget 
 
 That '* magic shrimps" will c\ire the worst of pet. 
 
 They must be " magic," though, and you can't buy them ; 
 
 And as for us, alas I jrc can't supply them. 
 
 The years have slipped avvay so very fast, 
 
 This fairy tale is, sad to say, our last. 
 
 Before another merry Christina-^ day, 
 
 Tlie " conqjauy " will all have gone away ; 
 
 And ocean will divide our little band 
 
 From all but memory ot your kindly land. 
 
 And when we meet again in after years, 
 
 Some nuiy l)0 " Generals," and some " Premiers," 
 
 Sojue " Nobodies ;" for some, you know, imiHt be. 
 
 There'll be no " Ogres," though, I clearly see. 
 
 One thing is certain; — we shall all have grown; 
 
 And some, perhaps, iiave *' lairiea" of our own. 
 
 But, still, we'll not forget, tliougii old and tall, 
 
 The "Children's Ciiristmas Play," at Rideau Hull. 
 
■'i? 
 
PRINCESS PUSSY-CAT, 
 
 ivi:e]"vv"-]m:e:"w 
 
 A XMAS ABSURDITY. 
 
 J. IH'RiK A Son. Sltttlonrr*. 
 
 n 
 
 •f 
 
-n 1 1, 1 WW HI a y r 
 
 ■' 
 
 Df^amatis P 
 
 EP,SONy€ 
 
 -coo— 
 
 Mil 
 
 i i 
 
 ■i 
 
 ZoUoASIKH, till' Zorci'itr; Miti'-li.iiicl id-s Jciiji-nx, wliifli lit- <\Ul']\\ 
 
 "iijiiit to -tlip liiuli'st itiul old in lit, . , > .. .,vC'ai't> Ward 
 
 KaKAI.IUAN, liis iitiii; of vvlioiii it may Ix- hrii-fty rt'inaiknl "/'»<. 
 
 liamlsoiiii' is as K/diiiinlsoiiiu Hoes." ((ihli.r I'i'octih.) Catt, HaMu.i\)M 
 
 TIIK MAN IN THK M()(>N, a "Dcuncx" who ^fts sliKhtly worst i-.l liy 
 
 fill' " ijcar sex," ....>. Hon. Tkukm K Hi.M K\V(K)D 
 
 I'lUNCl-: TKCKST.MLIA; like lopsry, In- "xrowcl ;" 'Miiotlu'i's cml 
 was his lu'giiiiiiiig." Siuiiiiy from tlif sor<"n'r's caiiMroii lu' 
 '•liaiij,'i's liis (.s)iM)t as soon as possihl^', Viscorsr Oi.am>kh )TS 
 
 'I'lIK KlNt; (»F N'O-noV-I.AN l>, ;i iiiiwli -wurii sovcn-i^'n who is cvt ry 
 
 iiii'li "<•/« inj; Mil. Fi.ciciKB 
 
 KAIHV KANCV, as j,'0(i(l as slio is lowly ami k'""'"''-- '"^"^ Hki.kn Hi.ai uwood 
 
 M( •ri.iCV, tlif (i.iirt .Icslcr ; ciam lull of f'nii ; Imrstiiig with JociUarity, 
 a war<iii,i.; iM-iUMT-iiut ofinms. (N.IJ. The juke nf the wa^' will 
 ajipfar in till' tail.) Mk. Akiiuk l'i.i;i( MHR 
 
 l';{IN( KS.S PUSSY-CAT, MKW-MHW ; '• Vov she was as h.'aiilifiil as"— 
 "hut wtii'ils ari' waiitiij,' to"- she iiiiist he so'ii to lit- aii)>re- 
 i-iat<il Miss ri,i:i( mat 
 
 /I'l.lNUA, a ui li'l who >a,\s little, hut thinks a ^immI deal 
 
 I.AKV Hkkmioni; Mi.ai kw >op 
 
 TI-irK, the I'liiniy-iloh'; wliieh il is to h,' hojred he will li'lia\.' as such JJy Ti :k 
 IIUSIl KAIKV, Hon I!\-~ii lii.u kw od 
 
 KHKNCII KAIUY 
 KN(il ISM KAIKV, 
 HIDKAl I'AIKY. 
 OTTAWV KAIKY, 
 CANADIAN FAIUY, 
 
 .MaL'I.K, ri.oHlvsTINi; il.\l.00 
 
 Miss Knnii Fiini iiini 
 
 ....Ml!. Hkkhkut Fi.kk iii:R 
 
 Miss Ml KiKi. I'm r> mku 
 
 Lady Vhiokia 1J:.a( kwdod 
 
 •# 
 
/E 
 
 CaI'T, HAN»ll,t«OM 
 
 l.M l.y 
 
 N< K Hl.Ai kW()OD 
 
 's cml 
 ■on lie 
 
 N'T Cl.AM.KH )tB 
 fVl TV 
 
 Mit. FiKinuR 
 
 K\ Hl.Ai KWOOD 
 
 arity, 
 I? will 
 
 II! IK ri.KTOrKR 
 
 as"— 
 
 Mis;s Fi.KTiiifat 
 
 I'll IJyTiv.'K 
 
 II. I{l.\i KU"(JD 
 
 iKsTiNi: Ha lot) 
 >nii F; r.T. ifi:n 
 
 KHT Fl.KK lii:K 
 IKI. Fl.l.K MKR 
 A 1J:,AI KWoOD 
 
 PRINCESS PUSSY-CAT 
 
 2vEE3'W-iyEE"W. 
 
 A XMAS ABSURDITY. 
 
 J. biuiiL K Su.v, Stationer^. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 
 ZOROASTER, the Zorccrer ; MurcliHiul defi Joujoux, which he 
 did'nt ought to — the hadcst had old man. 
 
 KAKALIBAN, his man; o/ whom it may be briefly remarked — 
 '• ?7nhand«omc is as w/«hand.somo doon.*' 
 
 (older Proverb.) 
 
 '■:?.••: MAN IN THE MOON, a '* Dons ox" who gcfn slightly 
 ^vor.-roed by the " dear sex." 
 
 PUINCF. TECKSTAILIA, like Topsey, he "growed," ''an- 
 oth '^ ond was his beginning." Sprung from the sor- 
 ceio; h t: ''I'rcn he changes his (.s) pot as soon as possible. 
 
 THE KING OF NO-BOY-LAND, a mucli-worn sovereign 
 who is every inch achemg. 
 
 FAIRY FANCY, as good as she is lovely — and gooder. 
 
 MOTLEY, The Court Jester; the only great and original is 
 (N. B. not Were. Lindley Murray.) 
 
 PRINCESS PUSSY-CAT, MEW-MEW ; « For she was as beau- 
 tiful as" — "but words are wanting to" — she must be seen 
 to be appreciated. 
 
 ZULINDA, A maid who says little, but thinks a goo<l deal. 
 
 TECK, the Puppy-dog; which it is to be hoped he will behave 
 as such. 
 
 Fairies, Courtiers, &c. 
 
 •I 
 
Cavern y nf Zoroaster, the Sorcerer : practicable, to oven at 
 hack. Table II corer-ed irith cloth to floor. Hooks ana lamp 
 on table, lartfe canhlron in centre stage. Zoroaster discovered 
 seated at table sleeping. 
 
 /or. — (Heads solemn I y and sodhj.) 
 
 '•' Fuur ami twenlv blackbirds baked in a pic, 
 " Who killed Cock Jiobin ? Who saw him die ? 
 *' Kings on hoi* fingers and bells on her toos 
 " Up came a blackbird and pecked oft* her nose." 
 
 (Shakes his head gravely.) 
 
 Alas ! how true ! AlVecting, very ! Keally 
 
 This painful talc has made inc wee}>, or nearly, 
 
 Pvo such a tender heart, it's made me cry 
 
 To read of these poor blackbirds in that pie. 
 
 And think how nice they must have been with crust, 
 
 And I was not invited ! Now they're dust. 
 
 I'll go to bed, we're nearly through the night. 
 
 ( Gets up, — loud noise on (jong heard, hack of scene opens up, dis- 
 covering Man in the Moon, the moon behind him illuminated.) 
 
 ** Come in ! 
 
 " Good gracious ! What a funny sight ! 
 
 M. in J/., coming donni— 
 
 " Good evening friend, J hope 1 don't intrude, 
 'Tis late, I know, but pray don't think me rude 
 1 couldn't come before ; but now 1 can 
 I'll introduce myself. I am the man — 
 
 /or. — i' the moon ? Now are you really ? If you please 
 We thought that 3'ou were made of nice green cheese. 
 I need'nt ask if you refreshment hick 
 
 he'll soon 
 
 you're /?/.//. (a.mle) f hope 
 
 go 
 
 Perhaps you want to change your present t/vorters? 
 
I 
 
 '1. 
 
 'I . 
 
 II 
 
 Oil, no! t/ou liav'ni any pretty lUiughterH. 
 
 /^r. — Pray take a chair. Its rather hirge I tear 
 Tliey always sit so heavy, men down lierc. 
 Of courBc you must l)c always sat-er-light ! 
 
 J/, i/i J/.— 
 
 I did'nt come to hear your cliatY to-night. 
 /or. — What (loos your moonsliip want witli mc ? 
 
 M. in M, — Look hero. 
 
 The King of Xo-boy-huul, who's rather " queer." 
 
 (tajtn forehead.) 
 
 »Sent me,, hist night, a tclcgrani to say, 
 
 That all the silly No-boy-landers i>ray ; 
 
 Mc straight to send them down a Boy d'ye sec 
 
 Now Zorojvster, make ine, qiiick as ((uiek can be — 
 
 Zoro. — 
 
 Pra}' what ? 
 
 J/, in J/. — A tritle, just this one small JioY. 
 
 Zor. — A Boy! A most expensive, dangerous toy! 
 They'll soon regret their wish, \ sadly feai', 
 I've not i)een asked for that for many a year. 
 They never make them now ; but once, I never saw 
 
 one, 
 And he was dried aful stu(fe<l, and not a raw one. 
 Could you deseriliC the arti«*le. Sir ])]eAse, 
 
 ^f, i,i M.— 
 
 Describe a iK)y ! oh, with liio greatest ease. 
 
 

 Jf. id }[.— 
 
 A tiling' all logs, and arms, and dirt, and .smoars, 
 "With neither earos, nor money, tours nor fearn. 
 Prodigious appetite for miscliief showinij^, 
 The little monster ^vill insist ou groxoiiKj ! 
 Of cakes and gowlies it's a shocking crammer, 
 It never knows its (ireok and Latin Grammar. 
 
 Zur. — Dear me! Dear ino ! llow very, very sad, 
 A boy like that, now, must be very bad ! 
 
 M. In M.— 
 
 It inks its lingers, tears its Sunday jackets, 
 And keeps its pockets fdled with sweets in packets; 
 Tollce and marbles, squibs and Jionian candles, 
 J)irds eggs and string, and knives with broken 
 handles. 
 
 Zur. — For woi'lds I would'nt have a thing like that — 
 I'd rather keep a monkey or a rat. 
 
 J/. In jr.— 
 
 Its always falling down, or climbing trees ; 
 
 Jlas always holes or patches at its knees; 
 
 It teases cats, and stands upon its head ; 
 
 ]ts always getting whipt and sent to bed 
 
 Or should be — . That's a Boy, you may depend on't. 
 
 /or. — In sliort, boys will be boys and there's an en<l oti't 
 (dslde.) Il'm ! So that a boy ! He'll spoil their fun ! 
 Your Moonship ! Your commis^iion shall be done ! 
 T'will be expensive — 
 
 M. ifi Jf. — ^'ou'll get your desert. 
 
 {aside) Mv payments ai'e all moonshine, cheap as 
 
 dirt ! 
 Well now, my friend, — You must 'nt kco]) me from it 
 I've an apj)ointment with the next new Comet, 
 He thinks of divssing up his tail in yellow. 
 

 t 
 
 it , I 
 
 G 
 
 (Jiolny up sttff/e.) 
 
 (Jood hyo, J'm oil', tJi ! tn ! ta ! ta ! old Icllow. 
 
 (^lUhu'iis to moon and scene re-closes.) 
 
 /or. — A boy! I'll inako a boy! How? Never iiiiiKl, 
 I'll put ill ju.sl the nastiest things I liiid. 
 
 (^Zorodster (jocs to tabic, o/jcns biy volume and runs Jinycr 
 down index.) 
 
 Zor. — Let'B see ! Let's see ! Boy ! Boy ! Ifa! this will do, 
 I'ago tit'teeii thousand and, h'ni, sixty-two. 
 
 {Turns occr [kkjcs and readi^.) 
 
 All. Here it is. (^rcudti) '• To make a Boy," 
 ir those are the ingredients, I wisli them joy. 
 (j'oulfi) " Tui-ce tour and twenty tVesh-cut snips 
 
 " And live and forty snails, 
 •'And twenty ends of puppy dogs" — 
 
 (The vulgar call them tai'ls !) 
 " And lioil thciu well, tivo weeks or so, 
 
 *'■ (."^ntil they hard as nails." 
 M'haL's good! now to my task Qti/lif) Kakaliban ! 
 Where is that hv/.y fellow ? 
 
 (TjOoIk roinid fita;/c. -i loud snore is heard from binder table. 
 Zoroaster lij'ts cloth and discorers Kakaliban fast asleep on the 
 jfoor. Z. beats him ivith stick till he wakes. Co)nic business — 
 Kakaliban not wakinj at first.) 
 
 Xow my man ! 
 
 (^Beating him roand dayc.) 
 
 Take that you lazy rascal. Go to sleep again. 
 And ever}' bone you have shall acho with pain ; 
 You shall have irout all over everv point 
 And n tromonihius toothaf'he In r-ach joint. 
 
 
)\V. 
 
 cr luiiKl, 
 iui8 funjcr 
 iri will do, 
 
 yr 
 
 so, 
 
 kulibun I 
 
 \iilcr table. 
 
 \crp on the 
 
 uainess — 
 
 man ! 
 
 in, 
 liiii : 
 
 i 
 
 ( uiiu', hoL lo work, and ;^athcr luls orsn.'iils, 
 And lotch mc quitU u score of puppicH" tails; 
 You'll find them plenlitul in No-boy-land, 
 Just pick them up an<l pack thom out of liand. 
 I'll go and get a little rest ('johuf of L.') O my ! 
 J can't Ibrgct those blackbirds in that pio ! 
 
 (Exit L.) 
 Kakcdiban. — 
 
 ( YatonuHj.) 
 
 Jleigho! ] am so bleep}'. I declare 
 
 My master's more tlian any one can boar, 
 
 For thirteen days l haven't slept a wink 
 
 1 never have a thing to eat or clrink ; 
 
 Xo wonder that I've got :-,uch shrunken checks I 
 
 1 liav'nt tasted food I'or thirteen weeks. 
 
 My education's quite neglected — tied ! 
 
 1 used to know my Alphabet from A to Z. 
 
 1 hav'nt time to practice the piany, 
 
 Xor make up verses to my iairest Fanny ; 
 
 She'll think it all '* meant nothing," p'raps she's glad. 
 
 She told me that she thought I must be mad. 
 
 I nevtr go out even for a dance. 
 
 My French '\as long ago gone back to France ; 
 
 — Parley voo frong say ? — Oh ! The accent's lino ! 
 
 Kakaliban, my boy, you ought to shine. 
 
 {Pulls out amull pocket glass and looks at himself.) 
 
 Kakaliban, you are a handsome fellow 
 Though your complexion's p'raps a trifle yellow. 
 These lips, so tender, know no touch of Love's, 
 These hands, so graceful, never put on gloves ; 
 Though only fourteen and a halt my size is, 
 I never see Ohamj>agne or strawberry ices. 
 
II 4 
 
 I ■; 
 , I 
 i iji 
 Ifi 
 
 
 Would VDii boliovo it, ill liiiw |)iuce so i)ul\cy 
 
 1 never even luivc a game of croquot. 
 
 More kicks Uian croquot, J <shoulcl thiiiic so ratiicr! 
 
 Oh dear ! oh dear ! J wish I had a futher, 
 
 Or Honio big brother, juHt to interfere, 
 
 It's wrong to treat an orjihan so, that'a clc' " 
 
 Jiut, "worst of all my master's games, why 
 
 Jle tries his nasty medicinoH on mo ! 
 
 I'll j'un away ! KcruRo to work 1 can ! 
 
 Can! why L vnll — {/oroader rails) — .K'akaliban ! 
 
 Oh, no, 1 won't, I feel my courage fails, 
 
 I'll go and get those puppy dogs llioir tails. 
 
 {Elder Fairy Fami/ at lm<k U.) 
 Fairy — 
 
 So, so, friend /oi'oaster, caught again ! 
 
 You want to give tlic world somo further pain; 
 
 We'll fcioe if we can't stop your cruel fun — 
 
 I'll go and settle what had best be done. 
 
 >o;*i'>, 
 
 
atlicr 
 
 in ! 
 
 { L.) 
 
 11.) 
 
 An/c-riioiit ill l*ufare. f'Joicr KnhitlilKin ' three old liala 
 on t/if. lop of his head, ami a lii;/ nai'/c on his bafk. 
 
 Kakaf (rrles) OKI clu' I old do' ! (fooh roinul) 
 
 What, no one hero ! all riicht, 
 So much the hotter. Ill keep out ol' sight. 
 Tin's is the place for doi^s ; I've picked up nine 
 And all so tat they couldn't ^ivo a whino. 
 it's quite a do^^ery. Hero comes another, 
 Here doi^^ie, come and .see your loni^ lost brother. 
 
 (Teck runs arross ataije, L to Ji, Ist entrance). 
 
 Hi* dog! here Pont > ! come, good dog! come hero; 
 There's really nothing in the world to fear. 
 
 (Looh off] /.'.) 
 
 Ah, there he i , I'll catch him in a minute. 
 
 {Exit liy a yelp heard, re-enter KakalHian.) 
 
 That makes the number ten, now, ho is in it. 
 Perhaps I'd better go, there soon will be a pow-wow, 
 When folks here find no traces of their bow-wow. 
 
 (^Kxit Ji.) 
 
 {Enter King) followed closely bj/ Mot Ivy. Kiiiy walks up 
 end down staye meditatiny. Motley fdlowiny, holdiny uj) (rain, 
 turniny at every turn of the Kiny's.) 
 
 Kiny— 
 
 Unoasy lies the head that is stung by bees, 
 
 Uneasy ia a sleep on toasted cheese, 
 
 And few men rest on very easy beds 
 
 With night-mares ;it full gallop in their heads. 
 
m 
 
 hi 
 
 
 4 
 
 10 
 
 T"'non83' too. nro lofifs with j)iiis and neo<11es, 
 I'lu^asy folks arc thieves and police and beadlos, 
 But more uneasior and most iineasioHt of things 
 Are those poor heint^s whom the world calls King!?. 
 Cirey hairs and wrinkles come upon them soon 
 With subjects alwa3s *' crying for the moon." 
 The cares of state and worries weigh me down, 
 I would'nt for my crown give half-a-crown. 
 
 (Enter Princess Vussy-Cat Mew-Mew with cake in hand, 
 and Xulinda.) 
 
 Princess — 
 
 Oh, dear! oh, dear! Papa, what shall I do? 
 He's gone away and left mo, oh, dear I 
 
 Ki,)g— Who? 
 
 Princess — 
 
 I'm sure he's gone for good, been stolen away, 
 lie never would have left mo, e'en in play. 
 
 King— 
 
 Who? what? which? when and how? and wu^ 
 
 Oh, why? 
 What is the meaning'of this noisy cry ? 
 
 Princess — 
 
 He'd just had breakfast, partridge served with sauce, 
 A elice of ham cut thin, and cream of course; 
 O, Teck you bad, ungrateful, greedy dog. — (Itcjins 
 to cr)/.) 
 
 Zulinda — 
 
 Oh ! that ho is — 
 
 Princess (turniny round angrily) — 
 He's not a bit ! How dare you ! 
 
 
11 
 
 Ziiliiidi(.- 
 
 
 1 only said — 
 
 nvcess- 
 
 01), go away, do, I can't bear you. 
 
 (Zulinda yoeii up sfage crijimj, Princess goes after her.) 
 
 1 boj^ your pardon dear, forgive mc, do, 
 I only thought of Iiitn and not of you. 
 
 {Enter I'^airt/, disyuis^d as old woman, It, 2nd entrance.) 
 
 King— 
 
 Since two and two make four, I can but guos?*, 
 My daughter's lost her dog — another mess ! 
 
 Fairy, aside — 
 
 A pretty girl in tears and cross as .sticks, 
 
 {To Princess) — AVhy, what's the matter? who's been 
 
 playing tricks? 
 
 Forgive a poor old woman, but my dear — 
 
 Princess — 
 
 What is it, goodie, what do yon want here? 
 Fairy — 
 
 I'm very hungr}', .Miss, I've had no dinner. 
 Prni'tss — 
 
 What can we ilo to sto]) your growing thinner, 
 
 AVc must'nt let tlio poor old woman starve ! 
 
 1 know ! it's all 1 have, my cake I'll halve. 
 
 (^i/rc lialfof her ca/xc.) 
 
 Fairy — 
 
 Thank you, my child, you have a kindly heai-t 
 
 Perhaps you won't be sorry ei*e we part, 
 
 I know your trouble ; you've Just lost your pet. 
 
13 
 
 To King. 
 
 And you, Sir, too, will into troiiHc get. 
 
 Your people, alwajn crying for the moon. 
 
 Arc crying for ii boy ; they'll get one Boon {ironiraUt/). 
 
 King— 
 
 Alas! you're right, I'm full of care lis true. 
 How do you know all this ? Pray who are you ? 
 
 {Fairy throws off" cloak.) 
 Fairy — 
 
 I am the Fairy Fancy ! listen now, 
 
 This work is Zoroaster's! Your bow-wow 
 
 Is gone to make a boy, with snipes and snails. 
 
 And such like horrid things, and puppies' tails. 
 
 i know him well, but see ! my charms are stronger, 
 
 And now he shan't do mischief anv lo!iger. 
 
 Come Princess Mew-mew, come along with me, 
 
 And you shall sec — well, that which you ahotl see. 
 
 King— 
 
 Fd like to come, but then witli my poor head 
 Perhaps Pd belter go straight off to bed. 
 
 (To Princess) 
 
 Here, take ni}'' latch-key. dear, don't stop out late, 
 And don't forget to lock the garden gate, 
 tiood night marm, my poor spirits are quite down, 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
 
 {Exit King and Motley, IL Fairy, Princess and Zullnda L.) 
 
 ^K>J«i«, 
 
ironi'-aUi/). 
 
 le. 
 
 re you ? 
 
 lails, 
 ' tails. 
 '0 stronger, 
 r. 
 nie, 
 
 </ntll SCO. 
 
 out late, 
 ((' down, 
 
 SOEinSTHJ III. 
 
 Cavern of Zoroaster as before. Zoroaster ilisrovered sfi'r- 
 rhifi contents of cauldron which is surronndcd by a circle of 
 turnips. Kakaliban on hia hnees, blowing the fire with bellows. 
 
 Zor. — Hokey, pokey, boil and bubble, 
 Stir it up with lots of trouble, 
 Put in mischief, heaps of course — 
 
 Kohal. (iiside) — 
 
 Mind you put in lots of sauce. 
 Zor. — Selfishness and (Jreediness — 
 Kakal. (aside) — 
 
 Won't there be a jolly mess ! 
 
 Zor. — Snips and snails and puppies' tails 
 Till the mixture's hard as nails. 
 
 Kakal. (aside) — 
 
 Oh, I am 60 sleepy — call this fun ! 
 
 I wish this cooking business was done. 
 
 Zor. — Ilokey, pokey, lx)il and bubble, 
 Stir it up with lots of trouble. 
 
 iEnter Fairy, disguised as old woman, and Princefts.) 
 
 Fairy — 
 
 (lood evening, Mr. Zoroaster, Pray 
 What is't you do? 
 
 Zor. — AVhat 's that to you ? A. way ! 
 
 Vanish, depart, begone, be off", the paii* of you. ' 
 (ret out old woman, go, or I'll take care of you. 
 
 KaJcal. (rising) — 
 
 Get out old woman, go, we're mischief making. 
 
 V 
 
u 
 
 Fairy — 
 
 Ves, so I tliougiit, I'd Jikc to sec your I)nking. 
 
 (Look.s into caulilron, Kakalibitn 
 fiit'.t to seize her, her red cloak faUs off (in<l she aj>/)ears as the 
 Fairy, Zoroaster anil Kakaliban start hark.) 
 
 Fairy — 
 
 Wroteli ! Do j-ou Uuow mo? I'm the Faiiy Fancy. 
 Kakal. — 
 
 A Fairy ! wliy 1 thought you wero old Nancy. 
 
 Fairy — 
 
 Stand liacic the pair of 3'ou. Bo still as mice. 
 I'll .spoil your misehior-making in a trice. 
 
 ( Walks round cauldron ihrowina ingredienfs in.) 
 '' Sugar and spice and nice things see, 
 
 "That's how good little girls arc started. 
 ''Now, bravo and strong and true he'll be, 
 '' Kind and fond, and tender-hearted. 
 '^ All a boy is all a tease, 
 '^ All a girl Avould never please ; 
 '• iialfa girl and half a boy 
 " That's the way to make a joy." 
 
 (C'ony strikes tirelre, a hriyht light rises Jrom cauldron, and 
 I'rin'ce Teckstailia is seeyi iii centre of it. Fairy fakes him by 
 the Imnd and leads him to Princess.) 
 
 Whatever is, just As- that's very clear. 
 And dogs once boiled, arc boiled you see my dear. 
 J^ut here's a plaything for you, stop your crying, 
 Live Princes beat dead dogs there's no denying. 
 Teckstalia is his name, a iVince bran-new. 
 
 To Prince T.— 
 
 And this is Princess Pussy-cat, Mevr-Mew, 
 A pretty Princess too to pass the <lay with. 
 
i 
 
 15 
 
 (J.s/rAj to Vri)}<'cr,s — ) 
 
 J?onicnj])er, <lear, Ijo'h made for you to play with. 
 
 To /orodsti'i' and Ktikalibcui — 
 
 And now yon qiiivcrin^, Bhivoring, nanglity two 
 I've sonietliin^ left besides for you to do. 
 Fly, L command yon, straight to No-ln^ydand 
 And l)rini^ all safely, just as now they stand, 
 The King and Court— (Exit Z and K<d — ) 
 
 while I will go and call 
 My sister fairies to a feast and ball. 
 
 To Prinze and Primess. — 
 
 Make friends wliile I'm awa}', and don't be boros. 
 
 {Exit R.) 
 Princess — 
 
 What's }'onr name ? 
 
 /'. T. — Teckstalia ! and yours ? 
 
 Princess — 
 
 Tocl<stalia'.s pretty — mine? oh, mine's Mow- Mew. 
 P. T.— 
 
 I'm sure that name is very pretty too. 
 
 How old arc you ? 
 
 Princess — I'm only ten — I'm tall ! 
 
 And von ? 
 P. T. (Jiesitate)*) — 1 have'nt any age at all. 
 
 Princess — 
 
 1 say, do you like sugar candy ? 
 P. T.— Don't 1 1 
 
 Princess — 
 
 You'll make mo lots of toflee, wont you ? 
 
16 
 
 i 
 
 P,r.— Wont I? 
 
 Princess — 
 
 And take me out to pic-iiit's, and climb trees. 
 
 P. T. (piUs his arm rouml hrr) — 
 
 We'll climb tlio whole day lon«^, dear, if you please. 
 Princess — 
 
 That will bo fun. I say you'll love mo? 
 P. T.— Kver ! 
 
 Princess — 
 
 That's right. Vou'll prc»Miiso that you'll never. 
 P. T.— * Xcvej- ! 
 
 Princess — 
 
 ^^ever molt tlic wax off" dolly'i nose, 
 
 Or poke her eyes out, or cut oft' her toes, 
 
 Or put her up the chimney, or play tricks upon her. 
 P. T.— 
 
 I'll never play a trick upon my honor. 
 Priijcess — 
 
 Then there's my hand. {Prince kisses it.) 
 P. T. — A pretty hand I swear. 
 
 I say, ] want a little lock of hair. 
 Princess (^innocently) — 
 
 Hair ! pra}'^ take a handful, 1 shan't miss it. 
 
 What do you want it for ? 
 
 P. 2\— Oh, Just to kiss it. 
 
 Princess — 
 
 Dear Prince, I am so glad you've come, so glad, 
 You aro the very nicest plaything that I've hivl. 
 Where did you come from ? say, I want to know. 
 
 I 
 
 ■ I 
 
I 
 
 17 
 
 /.'. T.' 
 
 J'Vom I"';mcv'rs pahuo where wc both will go. 
 A ])tila(;c, lit'ting to the siinniost sk-y 
 its su'i'ar candv walls : so thick and hiirh, 
 With barley .siiiCMr columns, oh, so tall ! 
 And l)i!'<ls all singing, oh I in foich a hall, 
 '^riie ionntai?js alwa3's run with curr/'Ui wine ; 
 The furnitures gilt gingerbread, so tine. 
 
 Princess. — 
 
 AV(;nt that be nice; but shunt wo eat it out? 
 
 IViHc^ T.~ 
 
 There're lots of lovely picture book> ubi)Ut; 
 And kitten.s. 
 
 Priiiojss. — Oh! what I /j<V^(?//6' / without paying ! 
 
 Prince 2\ 
 
 The tlulHost of white kittens always )>laying ! 
 The dearest little ])onies in the world 
 As white as milk, with manes and tails all curled, 
 And hjilendid dogs, anrl pretty, talking Polls, 
 And skipping rojtos and balls, and oil, sur/c dolls. 
 Thov oiien both their eves and sav *• Ma-mu.*' 
 '• How-do-you-do," and some can cry " Pa-pa,'' 
 And walk. 
 
 Princess (j-lapinnif hw Jmnds.) — Not walk ! 
 
 Prince T. — Yos, walk on their own legs. 
 
 You've only got to turn some little pegs. 
 
 Princess. — 
 
 This i> /»><> much ! Delightful ! oh, 1 nay, 
 Could we not go there now. this very day? 
 
u 
 
 
 IS 
 
 Tlicrcrc lots ol'sm-h wV'c \sSy\^, and jolly boys, 
 To i»lay witli all (ho heaps of j)roUy toys, 
 And no one's ever cross, and no one cries — 
 No one's unkind, and nothing ever dies. 
 i>o you like the picture ? 
 
 Princess. — Yes, indeed ! let's go ! 
 
 {^Takes his /utnJ, they run np sta(je and stop t^uddculif.') 
 
 Prin'-c T.— 
 
 J'm sori'v. but I'm lost down Ijere heluw. 
 
 (^lie-enter Zoroaster and Kukolibaii. — carrijiiKj the Kimj and 
 Motley on t/irir backs in drcssiixj yovns ami tall red 
 nightcaps. I'hcy sH them down. It. 1st entrance. 
 Enter Fairy, P.) 
 
 Fairy. — 
 
 I see you're friends, well now my duty's done. 
 I'll take vou all where there'll be lots ot Tun ; 
 But, Zoroa.ster and Ivakaliban '! 
 
 Kakal. — 
 
 Please nnss, lie's master, and I'm only man. 
 1 am 80 sleepj', and he's used me bad 
 Considering that I'm just an orphan lad. 
 
 Fa try. — 
 
 Well, if its .sleep you want, you nced'nt sto}» 
 
 Be changed into a dormouse or a top. 
 
 But as for Zoroaster — (^Zoroaster lefjins to whine') 
 
 hold your noise I 
 You shall be teased to death by swarms of boys. 
 
 Zor. — Oh put me rather in my little be<l, 
 "With fifty alligators round my head, 
 Five hundred monke3's chattering like fun : 
 
■ 
 
 nnd 
 ml 
 I tec 
 
 10 
 
 A. tit«)ithaii(l lotii cats ail rolled into one. 
 
 1 will bo good — make no more naughty toys, 
 
 l^\\i don't, oh don't, pray give me up to boys. 
 
 (Ji'oiKj .soiiinls. JJnck of scene opetm and ahou's Fuiajs 
 Palace with Fairies, etc.) 
 
 See Fancy's palace ! ovorything's ibr yon 
 Teckstailia and sweet Pussy-cat Mew-5lew. 
 IJut if you wish to live amongst these elves, 
 Just think of others more tiian of yourselves — 
 Have no more quarrels, frowns or tears, 
 Uc true and gentle, — you'll be happy dears. 
 
 (Green and redjirc.) 
 
 Prince nnd PrinceiO'!. 
 Kinij. 
 Kakalibau. 
 
 Fair}/. 
 
 Mullen. 
 ZuroUdlcr. 
 
 (^CUKTAIX.) 
 
 T* 
 
' 
 
i HM tut m uiM m%i 
 
LITTLIi NOnODY 
 
 ^ #:iiri) plan for jFiiirn jpropi 
 
 II V 
 
 F. A. I). 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 ADAM, STEVENS 
 
 ON & CO 
 
 1*^ 
 
 ij.ii I 
 
 ! 
 
 la 
 
I' z 
 
 \V. li. (iiltsoii. I'riiitn-. 
 
 Iliiiit«>r, \V\sv k Co.. Hiiulci-s. 
 
TO THE 
 '•llILlJliEM OF THEIR EACELLKNCIES, 
 
 THK KAHI, AM* COrXTKSS OF rUFFKRFN. 
 
 THE 
 
 %nxi f iU e ftti;to 0f priors. 
 
 FOR 
 
 GGlhosr ^Christmas Svlw these |31;iiis torrr Uirittrn. 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME. 
 With this as sole excuse for its nonsense. 
 
 IS 
 
 ^ffccttonntcln 51cbicatc^. 
 
I 
 
 (IV 
 
 <!is 
 K 
 
 \ 
 nut 
 
 Sc 
 
MTTM-: NOBODY. 
 
 DRAMATIS I'KKSON.-K. 
 
 Little N'obodv. — ^ body whom i-verybodff will liiul t<> hf Siinttioiltt 
 nffn- all. 
 
 Tim thk Tootbr. .4 poor munirian who picks out his (n) own (n) unti. 
 i ii'iUi oni' finger), and tliix sflh in the streets. Afterwards .' .' .' 
 
 Thk OoRr,.— <4 true philantropiit — " nu^ff" sed." 
 
 Thk Oorbss. — Of all the dreadful, horrid wo But no! She is a 
 
 woman, and the bonnet must be respected. 
 
 Princess Sunnvlocks. — A beauty in distress and white muslin, to whom 
 (lis dress is most becoming. 
 
 Kino ok the Fairies, ] ,, if.,,,, . , ., 
 
 .\lonnrchs of the Glen ; no strnnoers to thetr 
 
 and - , , ■ , 
 
 1 Land-see-here. 
 
 IjLERN OF THE TAIKIES. | 
 
 Voice or an I'nsi en Hv.RW.n.— Though it may he called clar it '•«»- 
 ri'tt be saul to have much body ; no matter. , 
 
 The Scene is laid somewhere in the East. 
 Costumes — Of any year sufficiently queer. 
 
 Scene ist. -Interior of Tim's CottaRe. Scene 2nd.— Ogre Castle. 
 
 Scene 3RD.— -Same as Scene ist. 
 
 Scene 4TH. — The Enchanted Dell, and Haunt of the Fairies. 
 
T 
 
 m 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTI%KS. 
 
 ^ouanuicql |}ou5c. ^tlatoa. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1876. 
 
 Little Nobody Hon. Terence Blackwood 
 
 Tan the Tooter - - - • Viscount Clandeboye. 
 
 The Ogre Captain Hamilton, A.D.C. 
 
 The Oerres.s Captain Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 Prlncoss Sunnylocks --.-•-- Lady Helen Blackwood 
 
 Kingr of the Fairies Mr. Edward Littleton. 
 
 Queon of the Fairies MisB Margaret Littleton. 
 
 Ht*rald Mr. Algernon Littleton. 
 
 Dew Drop Hon. Basil Blackwood. 
 
 Fernaeed Mr. Algernon Littleton. 
 
 Fairies : -, 
 
 Rosebud - Lady Hermione Blackwood 
 
 ^ Dayaeye Lady Victoria Blackwood 
 
LITTLE NOBODY 
 
 lackwoori 
 oboye. 
 n. A.D.C. 
 ADC. 
 iCkwood 
 tleton. 
 attleton. 
 liltleton 
 kwood. 
 ittleton 
 Blackwood 
 lac kwood 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Cottage of Tim the Tooter. Enter Tim, L., holding penny 
 
 whistle in his hand. 
 
 1 IM. 
 
 I 'M hungry, hot, and tired ! 
 
 f (Throws whistle off J. 
 
 Ugh ! you thing ! 
 What good are you, that can't a copper bring ? 
 I've played selections of my choicest airs 
 Through all the fashionable streets and squares ; 
 And then, as high art clearly did'nt do, 
 I gave them all the discords that I knew — 
 A trick that's good. Ha ! Mc ty oft they pay 
 To get such harmony to go away. 
 The more I played, the more they would'nt give ; 
 How do they think we poor musicians live ? 
 The world has all packed up, gone out of town ; 
 I'm sunburnt — but I hav'nt got a "brown." 
 I did expect at least a slice of mutton, — 
 My expectations were not worth a button. 
 Why, when I played an air to "area belles," 
 They hisse d, and pelted me with oyster shells. 
 Ah, that was hard ; but what now makes it harder, 
 I fear there's not a crust left in the larder. 
 
 {Goes towards L. Crier^s bell heard. Tim looks off L.) 
 Why what is this ? Dear me ! why, well I never I 
 
10 
 
 « 
 
 LittU Nobody. 
 
 H BR ALD (outside). Oyes ! Oyes! Take notice, whom- 
 somdever 
 It may concern. Lost, strayed, or stolen, too. 
 Is Princess Sunnylocks, the young and boo- 
 Tiful young daughter of the king. Her pa 
 Is quite distracted ; likewise so's her ir.j. 
 
 Tim. What's that you say ? The princess gone ! Pray 
 where ? 
 
 Her. Her dress was white, with rosebuds in her hair; 
 Her things were in the very latest fashion, 
 And round her waist she had a blue silk sash on. 
 If any one will bring, or send, by carrier. 
 This lovely princess, then that man shall marry her. 
 
 Tim. Marry the princess Sunnylocks ! Oh, my! 
 I wish that I could find her! Shall I try? 
 If I succeed, she's mine. I will! Here goes! 
 
 {Calling to Herald, outside). 
 Where has she gone ? 
 
 Her. You dunce ! Nobody knows. 
 
 Tim. Nobody knows. Oh, does he? then I'll ask him. 
 But how ? Ah, there's the rub; no joke to task him. 
 Stay, now I think, my old nurse used to say 
 Whenever I was in a " naughty way," — 
 Though I can't see however he could tell her, — 
 That ** Mister Nobody was in the cellar." 
 
 {Goes to trap-door, C, and lifts it.) 
 If Nobody's down there, why Nobody will come. 
 Hi ! Nobody! I want you! Hi ! Perhaps he's dumb ; 
 Perhaps he's deaf, or dead ; how can I tell ! 
 Perhaps he's very ill ; perhaps he's 
 
 Nobody (below.) W^ell ? 
 
 (Tim peers down, then puts in his arm and gropes about,) 
 
 < 
 
LittU Nobody. 
 
 II 
 
 Tim. Hullo ! What's this ? Dear me ; it really feels 
 Extremely like a pair of human heels. 
 
 {Business. Tim pulls out a shoe, then another. No- 
 body rises and seats himself on the R. edge of trap, 
 legs inside. Tim sits crosslegged, facing him No- 
 body carries a black bottle in his hand, corked. He 
 puts on his shoes.) 
 Whyever were you standing on your head ? 
 Nobody. Oh that's the way I always go to bed. 
 Tim. What! upside down ! Why, nobody does that. 
 Nobody. I'm Nobody, though sometimes called the 
 " Cat." 
 
 {They rise and come forward.) 
 Look here, when visitors in seaside places 
 Find trinkets vanish without leaving traces, 
 I did it ; 'twas the " Cat " they always say. 
 But when in s( hool some youngster all in play 
 Lets off a cracker, or, cram full of fun. 
 Puts his pet dormouse on the floor to run. 
 Or ties tom cats at night with string to bells, 
 Or makes experiments with nasty smells, — 
 Boys do such things — Why Nobody's to blame. 
 Tim. I must confess you have an ugly name. 
 Nobody. Who breaks the windows ? I! Who rings the 
 bell 
 And runs away ? Of course it's Nobody can tell. 
 Nobody's business, too, is every where, 
 On desert islands Nobody is there. 
 Things other folks can't tell Nobody knows ; 
 He only knows how all the money goes ; 
 He knows your thoughts ; he knows who took the jam ; 
 He knows, quite well, who told that shocking *' cram." 
 
 i«l 
 
12 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 1 
 
 He knows the reason of your fine black t-ye ; 
 He knows what's inside everybody's pie 
 Knows where they've dined, and what they've had for 
 dinner. 
 TiNf. His nose is everywhere, in fact, the sinner. 
 Nobody. He heard your voice behind the garden gate. 
 He saw you kiss your pretty cousin Kate. 
 He saw you when you climbed the garden wall, 
 And when the bulldog bit, he heard you bawl. 
 
 (Laughs.) 
 Well, what d'ye want, my friend ? Pray, what's the 
 matter ? 
 Tim. Fact is, (hesitates) you see — you're so polite. 
 Nobody. Don't flatter. 
 
 Tim. I only want to marry the Princess. 
 Nobody. (Sarcastically) That's all ? Perhaps you'd like 
 
 the moon ! 
 Tim. should. 
 
 Nobody. Or sun ? 
 
 Tim. The daughter's what I want. 
 
 Nobody. That s good ! 
 
 I like new jokes. 
 Tim. The Princess Sunnylocks is lost. 
 
 Nobody. I know ! you want her. Well, d'ye know the 
 cost ? 
 Come here ! 
 
 (Feels Tim's muscU: business.) 
 You'll have to fight, An Ogre's got her ! 
 Tim. Ogr- acious me ! 
 Nobody. Of course. He's going to pot her ; 
 
 (Makes signs of eating.) 
 He'd pot a Princess just as soon as prawns. 
 
y've had lor 
 
 sinner, 
 garden gate. 
 
 'all, 
 A. 
 
 (Laughs.) 
 what's the 
 
 > polite. 
 
 ps you'd like 
 should. 
 
 good ! 
 
 is lost, 
 •e know the 
 
 ;; business. 
 
 s of eating. 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 13 
 
 Tim. Where is she ? Tell me quickly, I'm on thorns. 
 The lovely Princess pickled ! What a sore sight ! 
 Here friend ! bring out your wisdom, quick, and foresight. 
 
 (Nobody feels in all his pockets as 
 if he had lost something.) 
 Nobody. Not there ! Perhaps I put it in my hat. 
 Tim. Put what ? 
 Nobody. My foresight. 
 
 Tim. Nobody does that. 
 
 (Nobody take: big spectacle case from his hat, puts 
 enormous spectacles on his nose, aad takes up his 
 bottle, uncorking it.) 
 
 What is it now ? 
 Nobody. Wisdom, I keep it here. 
 
 Tim. Why nobody keeps wisdom, sir, like bottled beer. 
 
 (Nobody takes a long drink.) 
 Nobody. I'll help you, Tim. Your father once helped 
 me. 
 I'm not ungrateful, though I'm Nobody. 
 One good turn well deserves another. See, 
 There is your Princess plain as plain can be. 
 
 {Back of scene opens, and shows interior of Ogre's 
 Castle, Ogre standing over Princess, who is kneeling. 
 Limelight. Scene closes.) 
 
 Tim. Plain ! why she's lovely ! Here, make haste, 
 let's go, 
 I want to kill that fellow ; don't be slow. 
 
 Nobody. Perhaps, friend Tim, you'd better wait a bit. 
 First you want clothes, then money; lastly, wit. 
 There are your clothes {points off L.) 
 
 Tim. How fine I {goes off L.) 
 
 1 m 
 
H 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 Nobody. I hope they'll fit. 
 
 I couldn't take your measure in a minuit. {Looks off L.) 
 What's that ! 
 Tim. a button gone. 
 
 Nobody. That's nothing ; pin it. 
 
 Tim. All right ! {loud tear heard) Hullo ! 
 Nobody. What now ! 
 
 Tim. a frightful slit. 
 
 Nobody. Just pin it up again ; you must'nt sit. 
 
 {Enter Tim, L., dressed in splendid clothes.) 
 Well how's the suit ? 
 Tim. It fits me like a glove. 
 
 Nobody. A suit should be a pressing one in love. 
 You'll do, my friend, and here's the glass to show you. 
 {Business. Nobody holding glass while Tim turns and 
 twists his body to see himself .) 
 Tim. Why, Tim, upon my word I shouldn't know you, 
 You are a swell at last. I always knew it. 
 
 (Nobody walks round him, arranging dress.) 
 Nobody. A trifle pale ! a touch of rouge will do it. 
 
 {Takes out rouge pot and hare's foot.) 
 Tim. What's that ! {smells) it's paint ! poof ! 
 Nobody. Let me put a dash on. 
 
 You're really nowhere if you're not in fashion. 
 
 {Rouges cheeks, then gives hat.) 
 Your hat, sir. 
 Tim. Oh ! 
 
 Nobody. Your gloves, sir, {gives gloves.) 
 Tim. Ah! 
 
 Nobody. Your cane {gives cane.) 
 
 Tim. How many more ! {business, Tim putting on gloves, 
 &c.t awkwardly ; cane gets between his legs.) 
 
 ft 
 
LittU Nobody. 
 
 »5 
 
 oks off L.) 
 
 It. 
 
 il slit. 
 
 sit. 
 
 id clothes.) 
 
 love, 
 low you. 
 [ turns and 
 df.) 
 know you, 
 
 ng dress.) 
 do it. 
 are's foot.) 
 
 h on. 
 
 gives hat.) 
 
 .) 
 
 on gloves, 
 
 gs.) 
 
 Nobody. One thing you want. 
 
 Tim. Again ! 
 
 Nobody. Well, Tim "the Tooter," you must have a 
 name! 
 Count Pennywhistle's title you can claim. 
 Here is your money, {gives purse.) 
 
 Now then, let me think. 
 Ha ! Here's my bottle ; take a good long drink. 
 
 (Tiu drinks from bottle.) 
 Well, how d'ye feel ? As if your wits were growing ? 
 
 Tim. Hem ! Yes, I feel a kind of warmness flowing. 
 Creeping and crawling through my head ; what fun! 
 I feel as if I'd like to make a pun, 
 Or else a riddle — Here's the very thing ! 
 Why is a poor old cobbler like a king? 
 D'ye give it up ! Because 
 
 Nobody. Oh! poof! that's stale ! 
 
 Tim. Why then is a monkey very like a whale ? 
 You ought to know. {Laughs, and pokes him playfully in 
 the ribs.) 
 
 Nobody. Here! come! you've had enough ? 
 
 Your head can't stand too much of that strong stuff. 
 Give me the bottle. Not another drain ! 
 No more, or you'll get riddles on the brain. 
 
 Tim. Why is a water-wagtail like a 
 
 Nobody. Bah ! 
 
 Tim. When is a barber not a barber ? 
 
 Nobody. {Disgusted) Ah ! 
 
 Tim. When he's a shaving. See ? 
 
 Nobody. I don't. Here! Come! 
 
 The Ogre dotes on riddles, save him some. 
 
 Tim. What is your plan then, " stranger, quickly tell." 
 
 ' 
 
 
16 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 Nobody. Look here, I know the Ogre very well. 
 We'll make a morning' call on Mrs. O. 
 She gives a picnic in a clay or so. 
 To ask you there I'm sure she'll be deli};hted. 
 
 Tim. The game is all our own if once mvitcd. 
 
 Nobody. We'll have such fun. 
 
 Tim. We will ! 
 
 Nobody. I'll plague and tease them. 
 
 While you can do your very best to please them. 
 
 Tim. Then for the Princess ! 
 
 Nobody. I'll just give a cough (coughs.) 
 
 And while I take them in, you take her oil. 
 
 Tim. Where is the place ? 
 
 Nobody. A thousand miles away. 
 
 We'll go by telegraph. We need'nt pay. 
 For Nobody pays nothing, and you're safe with me. 
 Folks never see you with a nobody. 
 
 Exeunt L. 
 
i 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Interior of Ogre's Castle. Princess Sunnylocks discovered 
 asleep on sofa, back R. C. Enter Ogress, R., with cook- 
 cry hook in one hand, and bifr spoon in the other. 
 
 OoRESS. {Reads) ♦' Receipts to fatten little ^irls and 
 boys " — 
 I wish they'd give receipts to stop their noise — 
 " Take Thorley's food for cattle, Dublin stout, 
 
 •♦ Then mix the two " with something else, no doubt, 
 
 But how to get it down, ah ! that's the battle. 
 
 {Turns over page, reads.) 
 
 " With Dublin stout and Thorley's food for cattle." 
 Twice over ! Oh, they fatten here by doublin\ 
 Dear me this cooking busmess is most troublin'. 
 Here's my last poem on the "Evening Sky" 
 Unfinished still. {Takes paper from pocket.) My muse, 
 suppose we try. {Reads, affectedly. ) 
 *' O evening sky; O gentle evening sky ! 
 *' Whose mild, mendacious, and meandering moons 
 
 •' Look down and listen to the soothing sigh 
 " From limpid lovers, side by side, like spoons." 
 How sweet ! reads) "O evening sky, O evening sky" — 
 Ogre. {Outside.) Now then, ma'am; how about that 
 baby pie ! 
 
 {Exit Ogress hurriedly L.) 
 {Enter Ogre R. holding stew-pan tn one hand, a 
 big spoon in the other.) 
 
 > \M 
 
i8 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 OoRE. Mum! mum! How good it smells! Ah! here's a 
 
 dinner. 
 What's this ? My favorite dish as I'm a sinner. 
 Boiled babies' pettitoes. {Calls.) Come, wife, make 
 
 haste, 
 Dinner! Ah! what a wife ! She knows my taste. 
 I dote on babies. Pretty r"s, 1 love 'em 
 Roast, stewed or boiled, with parsley sauce above 'em. 
 They're always good. 
 
 {Sings in a gntff, harsh tone.) 
 
 Baby, baby bunting 
 The Ogre's gone a-hunting 
 To get a saucepan made of tin 
 To boil the little baby in. 
 
 So says the poet, which his name was Jones. 
 
 If Jones were only here I'd pick his bones. 
 
 Oh, I love poets, tender gushing things, 
 
 With bacon jliewered on their nver wings. 
 
 Fresh, young and juicy. I don't like your dried *«». 
 
 Some like them boiled, but I prefer a fried 'un 
 
 ** Served up en papillate in his last sonnet " — 
 
 Delicious! I can't bear to think upon it. 
 
 Soldiers are tough — I leave the Hony-part^. 
 
 Old maid preserved does taste a little tart. 
 
 Artists are oily. Lawyers disagree. 
 
 Sailors are salt, and doctors — doctor me. 
 
 Once, only once, I tried a chimney s.wecp. 
 
 Ugh ! he was nasty ! (Goes to Princ4SS.) 
 
 Ah ! she's fast asleep. 
 So pretty and so plump ! {Ptmhes her cheeks.) 
 
here's a 
 
 fe, make 
 
 te. 
 
 ve 'em. 
 
 irsh tone.) 
 
 un. 
 
 'rinciss.) 
 
 cheeks.) 
 
 Little Nobody. i^ 
 
 Such rosy cheeks ! 
 
 How nice she'll be, say, in a brace of weeks. 
 
 (Pinches her arm : Princess wakes up rubbing it. 
 
 Princess. Flies and mosquitoes! Oh! it's only you. 
 
 {Comes down.) 
 I wish you'd let me sleep an hour or two. 
 
 You're always pinching me, or pattsng me, or petting. 
 
 Ogre. I only wished to see how fat you're getting. 
 
 Princess. Fat ! always fat ! Whatever do you mean ? 
 
 Ogre. A girl is good for nothing if she's lean. 
 
 Princess. Good ! I'm not good. 
 
 Ogre. (Insinuatingly.) With oyster sauce, or caper, 
 you'll not be bad. 
 
 Princess. (Screams.) I'll write, sir, to the paper! 
 I'll tell papa! I'll disagree with you 1 will ! 
 See if I don't! 
 
 OoRB. (Philosophically.) Well, then, I'M take a pill. 
 
 Princess. I wish mv arms were only good — 
 
 OoRE. To ro»8i ? 
 
 Princess. These fingers, s'r, should ftcrvc you nut — 
 
 Ogrk. On toast ? 
 
 Princess. Those handsome c_ .'s of yours would soon 
 be spoiled. 
 OOKE. (Afeditatively.) Perhaps though after all she'd 
 be best boiled 
 
 Princess. I v/ish para were here, he'd have yoi 
 killed. 
 I should be free, and then !— 
 
 Ogre, Be nicely grilled. 
 
 Princess. At least a female tongue cannot be tied; 
 That still can Bcold, ah ! 
 
 Cork. Not, miss, when it's fried. 
 
 I'm ver>'cooI, but temper I can't hold. 
 
 i 
 
 *1kE 
 
 tft 
 
h 
 
 20 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 Hot meals I like, and h'jar my dinner {' s}cold ! 
 Take care, miss, pray take care ! Why, what a fuss 
 About a fellow's supper ! mi{;ht be ' wuss ' : 
 A miss the more or less, what does it matter? 
 
 {Loud noise off L., rattlittg of chains.) 
 
 Why, what's the meaning of this horrid clatter? 
 
 (Exit L.) 
 Princess. {Clasping he^ hands.) 
 
 Oh dear ! Oh dear ! Whatever can be done ? 
 
 It's paBt a joke. The monster's not in fun ! 
 
 He's like a spider. I'm the little fly. 
 
 I wish I was'nt nice inside a pie. 
 
 I'll run away ! I'll scream I I'll not be eaten ! 
 
 {Hntir Tim, L., rapidly. She flies to him.) 
 
 Tim. You shan't, miss, not until I in killed or beaten. 
 
 PuiNCESs. You've come to save me ! 
 
 Tim. Hush ! the Ogre's near. 
 
 He's puffing up the stairs. You re safe ! don't fear ! 
 
 To-morrow there's a picnic. Here's the progr 
 
 *Am with champagne, cold chicken and cold ogre. 
 
 Princess. I see. Who are you, sir ? 
 
 Tim. I'm not alarming. 
 
 (Aside.) She'i quite divine ! 
 
 pRiNCEvs. {Asidx.) Mcs really vrry cHarming" 
 
 Tim. Alas, I'm just a pov>r musician, miss. 
 
 Princess. Out hen, I'.n much amiss, a lass ! 
 You may be poor; I'm sure you're brave and true. 
 
 (Tim puts arm round her watst.) 
 
 Tim. 1 could'nt, dear, be otherwise to you. 
 
 i^RiNCBSS. [Laughing, and rrmoving his arm.) 
 
 Whai'sthis ! Sujvjiose you just put back that paw, 
 Until you've known me a few minutes more. 
 
 {Enter OcKEssuNi/ Nt/uonv. Ookl following,) 
 
 1 
 
Little Nobody. 
 
 21 
 
 Tim. I've made acquaintance with your lovely 
 daughter. 
 
 Ogre. {Aside.) I must dissemble — must'nt say I 
 caught her. 
 (Aloud.) Poor girl ! A near relation ! Will be nearer. 
 
 Tim. a family marriage ? 
 
 OGk£. Hem ! A union dearer. 
 
 Tim. {Aside.) Old rascal ! 
 
 Ogre. Ah ! her story's very sad. 
 
 She's lost her wits; in fact the maid is mad. 
 Mad as a hatter ! Thinks she's a Princess. 
 
 Tim. Poor thing ! that's very mad I must confess. 
 
 {To Ogress.) 
 Madam, I've heard, like all the world beside, 
 Your charming poem on the " Frozen Bride," 
 So full of sentiment, refined and gushing. 
 You're quite a poet 
 
 OoRcss. Pray, excuse my blushing. 
 
 (Vim goes up talking with Ogre. Ogress 
 takes Nobody aside.) 
 
 Who i.> your charming friend ? I must invite him. 
 I've got a little picnic, 
 
 Nobody, You'll delight him. 
 
 He's name's Count Pennywhistlc, he's a poet. 
 A trifle queer, perhaps, but does nt snow it. 
 Knows languages by dozens, riddles by the score. 
 Can do a dozen things besides, or more,^ 
 
 (Ogre comes down listening. Tim talks to Princess.) 
 If there's a clever fellow out, it's he. 
 
 Ogre. {Aside.) Stewed in port wine, dear me, how 
 nice he'll be, 
 
 ^ f 
 
22 
 
 LittU Nobody. 
 
 Nobody. He writes too for the Press, the great 
 " Diurnal." 
 He'll put your parties in the new Court Journal. 
 Ogre. {Aside.) I'll stick to port, can't swallow a 
 
 reporter. 
 Nobody. (Aside to Tim.) I'll talk to them, you go 
 
 ahead and court her. 
 Ogress. No doubt your friend is quite a man of ' ton.' 
 Nobody. Moves in the best vocicty, (aside) he does — 
 "move on." 
 He plays divinely on the flute. 
 
 Ogress. He'll please us. 
 
 I dote on mu^ic. Is he rich ? 
 
 Nobody. As Croesus. 
 
 His rent's enormous, (asidi') so it is — behind. 
 Ogress. I'll send a card at once. 
 Nobody. You're very kind. 
 
 Ogress. He's quite a lion, and they're rare these days. 
 Nobody. He is'.-it proud, he's j,'ot such easy ways. 
 
 Ogke. (Pointing to Tim behind, who has his arm around 
 Princess.) 
 His ways are easy, I should say. 
 
 Nobody. (Aside.) The dunce ! 
 
 (Tim turns to Ogre and talks, vJore laughs.) 
 (Aloud.) His ti/ay's to make himself at home at once. 
 
 Ogress. Her waist's at any rate no waste of time. 
 
 Nobody, These foreigners don't think that any crime. 
 It's all politeness, why, be u go and do 
 The very self-same thing next week to you. 
 
 Ogress. (Simperingly.) Dear me, these foreign ways 
 
 are odd. 
 
 (Oo^e comes down with Tim, laughing . 
 he slaps him on the back. 
 
I 
 
 Little Nobody. §^ 
 
 OoRE. That's good. 
 
 Oqress. We have a little picnic in the wood, 
 Tomorrow, Count ; you'll come if not too tied ? 
 Tim. Delighted, if you'll read the *' Frozen Bride. " 
 Ogress. Oh, count, what charming compliments you 
 
 pay. 
 Tim. Madam, I kiss your hand. {Kisses her hand.) 
 Ogress. La ! Count ! 
 
 Tim. Good day. 
 
 NoBODV. {To Ogress.) Oh, that's the custom in his 
 
 native land. 
 Ogress. Indeed! {Aside.) Perhaps he'll kiss the 
 
 other hand. 
 
 {Puts out left hand, and turns her head away, Tim does 
 not see it, but speaks to Princess. The 
 Ogre comes behind and slaps it.) 
 
 Ogre. {With suppressed passion.) In Turkey you can 
 do as turkeys do. 
 Not here — 
 
 Tim. Good day ! 
 
 Ogress. {Sweetly.) Good afternoon ! 
 
 Tim. {Kissing his hand privately to PmscEiis.) Adieu! 
 (Princess returns kiss. Exit Tim and 
 Nobody L.; the Ogre following.) 
 Ogress. A most distinguished person, so refined. 
 As for his customs, well, hem ! I don't mind. 
 I'll put him in a poem! — 
 
 Princess. In a pie 
 
 You ought to say. 
 
 Ogress. You little minx ! Oh fie! 
 
 An arm around my wsa^t I would'nt stand. 
 
 .1 
 
f Little Nobody. 
 
 Princess. I know you stood a kiss upon your hand. 
 Ogress. That's nothing — 
 
 Princess. Oh ! If you were not so old ! 
 
 Ogress. Old! I'm not old, miss ! Come, you're very 
 
 bold. 
 Princess. Besides, you're bald. You know you've got 
 
 false hair. 
 Ogress. It's all my own ! — 
 Princess. You bought it then ! 
 
 Ogress. You dare ! 
 
 Princess. You paint. You know you do; I saw you. 
 
 There ! 
 (Ogress runs to her and shakes: her. Scene closes in.) 
 
 'M;^^Sn^ 
 
3ur hand. 
 
 3t so old ! 
 lu're very 
 
 'ou've got 
 
 k'ou dare ! 
 saw you. 
 
 ; closes in.) 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Interior of Tim's Cottage, as before. Enter Tim, R. 
 
 Tim. My Princess vSunnylocks 1 How I do love her. 
 The ground she treads on, and the sky above her. 
 Her eyes, her mouth, her hair, her chin, her nose. 
 Her taper ftnf^ers, and her tiny toes. 
 The air she breathes, the sun — she looked upon it. 
 Her worn-out shoes, and her best Sunday bonnet. 
 Tim, this won't do ! {feels pulse.) A hundred in the shade 
 I'm K^^'ng iTisd about that little maid. 
 I'm desperately deep in love, that's clear. 
 I can't be happy till I get my dear. 
 
 I've found a treasure. {Takes paper out of breast, undoes 
 
 it carefully and shows a pin.) 
 Just a little pin. 
 Sh: wore it once. {Looks at pin affectionately.) 
 
 Ah ! short but sweet ! 
 {Kisses it ; it prtcks him. Rap heard.) 
 
 Come in ! 
 (Enter Nohodv carryinf^ enormous letter^ Tim opens it, 
 and takes out two big cards^ inscribed " Mr. Ogre, 
 Ogre Cattle," and " Mrs. Ogre, At Homer) 
 NoHODV. The ticket's corae to see the lions fed ; 
 Reserved seats extra, sixpence more a head. 
 We'll have a private box. 
 
 {Strikes attitude of sparring, turning towards L.I.E., when 
 Fairy Queeh enters in cloak as old woman, carrying 
 big umbrella, with which she words off hts blows.) 
 
 I 
 
 , I'l n 
 
 'i 
 . ill 
 
a6 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 I 
 
 Fairy. Young man, take care. 
 
 A poor old woman has no teeth to spare. 
 
 Nobody. I'm only practising. 
 
 Fairy. Well, spare your blows, 
 
 (Meaningly.) Perhaps you'll want them for the Ogre's 
 nose. 
 
 Tim. (Aside.) The Ogre's nose ! She knows the Ogre ! 
 Pray 
 Ma'am who are you ? Can you assist us? Say. 
 
 Fairy. I am your fairy godmother. 
 
 Tim. How queer ! 
 
 I didn't know I had one. 
 
 Fairy. Yes, my dear. 
 
 I know your wish, the Princess you would gain, 
 But first of all the Ogre must be slain. 
 
 (Produces big pair of goloshes from under cloak, 
 one with a great tear in it.) 
 
 See the goloshes of your sire ! You won't refuse, 
 I'm sure, to step into your father's shoes. 
 Once on, they'll take you off, a mile a minute. 
 
 Tim. They're rather old! (shows rent) A tear! 
 
 Fairy. Well, you can pin it. 
 
 Tim. These venerable relics should, I think, be sold. 
 
 Nobody. Well, Nobody will buy them. Come, Tim ! 
 
 Fairy. Hold! 
 
 Here, take this magic flute, which, when you play, 
 Sends all who listen fast asleep. 
 
 Tim. Hooray! 
 
 I see ! When they're all fast asleep we'll fly. 
 
 Fairy. Whatever happens, I shall be close by. 
 Don't be afraid ; if he should wake, just call. 
 
 W 
 
 Hi 
 
 It! 
 
 My 
 
Little Nobody. 
 
 •7 
 
 rc. 
 
 the Ogre's 
 I the Ogrc ! 
 
 car. 
 tin, 
 
 under cloak, 
 • in it.) 
 
 ise, 
 
 |ar! 
 
 m pin it. 
 Ink, be sold. 
 
 )me, Tim ! 
 
 Tim. I'm not afraid of Ogres, not at all — 
 
 When they're asleep that is. 
 Nobody. Now then, we're late. 
 
 His temper's horrid if you make him wait. 
 
 It's never very sweet. 
 
 Tim. Come then, away ! 
 
 [Puts goloshes under ann.) 
 
 My sole's in arms, and eager for the fray ! 
 
 Nobody. (7't» Faiky.) The tootcr, fay, "s in earnest, 
 
 tout d/dit. 
 
 [Music plays*'' Sabre Song," from •* Grand Duchess,'' 
 
 all march round stage, dance, and exit L.) 
 
 -rfC-c: 
 
 ■>; 
 
 
 fOf>'^^^ 
 
 play, 
 
 by 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 The enchanted dell. liifr moss-covered trunk of tree C. bitek, 
 prticticahlc to fall down in f rent ; tree at R. wing, basket 
 with biff loaf and pie, etc., at foot. The King of the 
 Fairies discovered leaning on golden axe. 
 
 Fairy Kino. Twice fifty years have passed since 
 mortal tread 
 Has touched the enchanted dell so fair and dread. 
 The woodsmen shun it, and the peasants all 
 With tremhlin^' feet avoid our waterfall. 
 The villaj^e maidens pass another way, — 
 But sounds of voices fill the woods to-day. 
 
 (Hater NonoDV, L.» 
 Ha I Cousin Nobody, you're welcome here, 
 As sailors say, " My hearty, come, what cheer? " 
 Nouoov. I want your aid to spoil a little fun. 
 KiN(i. With pleasure, what ! 
 NouoDV. An Ogre's pic-nic. 
 
 KiNci. (Shaking hands.) Done ' 
 
 I hate these mortal pic-nics in the wood. 
 They spoil the j^rass with corks and scraps of food. 
 With empty bottles, mess of every kind, 
 And leave a smell of ham and beer behind 
 That lasts for weeks. 
 
 Nououv. See, here's the pic-nic spread. 
 
 KiNii. Oh! very good. (Touches loaf, f>ie, etc.) 
 
 They'll find that's fairy bread. 
 Let's see what we can do to raise that pie. 
 
 [Croak of a bull-f rug heard, Nobody fetches it 
 and puts it in pie.) 
 
Little Nobody. 
 
 ttC 
 
 . hi 
 
 If*, 
 
 '"/r. 
 
 baskft 
 
 "•^ 
 
 of 
 
 the 
 
 iCd 
 
 sincf 
 
 :ad. 
 
 
 
 NonoDY. This gentleman will do, he's raised a cry. 
 Kino. There's cayenne pepper for their tart and 
 custard. 
 
 (Sprinklis pcppir.) 
 NouoDY. A little sand would much improve their 
 mustard. 
 
 ( SprinkUs sand.) 
 Ihorc, that will do; they're coming, I'll be ofT. 
 
 {Fxit L.) 
 
 Kino. We'll teach these bold invaders not to scoff. 
 The sounds approach within my Queen's own bower ! 
 Meware rash strangers ! dread the fairies' power. 
 
 (Goes off R.^callitif;.) 
 Heware ! Beware ! Beware ! Beware ! 
 
 (Enter Ogress and OokeL.; the Ogkf, has a rope, 
 the other end of which is round the uaist of 
 the Princess, who follojt's.) 
 
 OoRi;. I swear 
 
 I heard the sound of voices in the air- 
 OtiRi'Ss. There's no one here; it's fancy. Come on, 
 
 dear. 
 Ogre. It may be fancy, but it's very queer. 
 Ogress. Ah! here we are. Let's lay the cloth; be 
 quick. 
 
 (Ogress arranges contents of basket on the 
 ground R., at foot of side tree.) 
 Ogre. I'll tie this olive branch here to a stick. 
 
 {Ties Princess to tree R., then assists Ogress.) 
 
 Princess. I wish this olive branch could shoot, you'd 
 find 
 She'd takt her leaf, and leave her trunk behind. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 ► 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
^r 
 
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$» 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 Ogre. That trunk, my dear, 's a perfect Saratoga. 
 Vou won't move that. {Ironically.) Don't leave your 
 poor old Ogre. 
 
 OoRESs. {Reading from letters.) "The Ladies Mangel- 
 Wurzel much regret 
 They've all got coughs and colds through getting wet." 
 "The Dowager Duchess Drumstick must decline." 
 No reason ! Very rude ! That's twenty-nine. 
 
 Ogre. [Takinf^ up letter.) What's this ? From Admiral 
 Fitz Mizen. 
 
 Ogress. That's enough ! 
 
 Ogre. The Admiral sends compliments; he's old 
 and tough. 
 He thinks he'd not be nice if broiled or stewed. 
 He hopes you won't be vexed. 
 
 Ogress. He s very rude. 
 
 Princess. What fun 1 I hope they'll all decline. 
 
 Ogre. Ha ! stay, by 
 
 Jove ! " P.S., Where's Mrs. Jones' baby ?" 
 That's most unkind ! I did the best I could. 
 I put the darling where it did most good. 
 
 Ogress. It's all your fault. Why did I marry you? 
 
 Ogre. You couldn't help it; handsome men are few. 
 
 Ogress. We're a most ill-matched pair. 
 
 Ogre. Why, bless my stars ! 
 
 \o\iv jargon Nell's preserved in family jars. 
 What more dy'e want ? Come, stop this silly raving. 
 Its constitutional with me, this little craving. 
 
 Ogress. Society, it's clear, is growing very shy. 
 
 Ogre. {Mockingly.) To think society won't taste that 
 pie ! 
 
 Ogress. In fact, this time, I really almost fear 
 
Little Nobody. 
 
 3^ 
 
 Tom Admiral 
 
 Tiarry you r 
 nen are few. 
 
 That nobody is coming — 
 
 {Enter Nobody and Tim, L.i 
 Nobody. {Aside to Tim.) Nobody is here. 
 
 My dearest Mrs. Ogre. How d'ye do? 
 My friend Count Penny whistle. {To Ogre.) 
 
 How are you ? 
 Ogre. Hungry! Now then, sit down, don't wait, I'm 
 starving. 
 Sit down, Count, you're an artist, do some carving. 
 
 {They all sit round luncheon, Tim nearest to Princess. 
 Through lunch he feeds her secretly with a fork.) 
 Ogress. Our party's small. 
 
 Nobody. {Aside.) They're all afraid to come. 
 
 Ogre. I'm glad they stayed away. 
 Ogrefs. My dear! 
 
 Ogre. I'm dumb. 
 
 Ogress. The Dowager Duchess Drumstick was ex- 
 pected. 
 {To Tim.) You know the Duchess ? 
 
 Tim. {Aside.) I shall be detected. 
 
 {Aloud.) Not in my set. 
 
 Ogress. Dear Duchess ! she's out dining. 
 
 She sent me such a charming note declining. 
 Nobody. Pray let me fill your glass. 
 Ogress. A little drop. 
 
 There now, that's quite enough ; Oh, pray do stop. 
 
 (Nobody winks at Tim, She empties glass.) 
 You must'nt wink at me, you naughty man. 
 Nobody. Your charms quite dazzle me. 
 Ogress. Oh, where's my fan ? 
 
 {Sentimentally.) How sweet this is beneath the spreading 
 trees. 
 
3* 
 
 LittU Nobody. 
 
 Ogre. This spread's far better. (To Tim.) Champagne? 
 Tim. If yoi' please. 
 
 Nobody. {To Ogress,) Your glass is empty. (No- 
 body _^//s f^lass.) 
 Ogress. Colonel, you're too kind. 
 
 I really couldn't. 
 
 Nobody. Nonsense, never mind. [Fills glass. 
 
 (Ogress appears not to see, hut presently drinks it.) 
 Ogress. Come, let me send you all some chicken pie. 
 Nobody. Excuse me, marm, but did it ever cry ? 
 Ogressb. La, General, what a joke! 
 Ogre. (Coughing.) Some wine ? 
 
 Ogress. You must. 
 
 Nobody. {Aside.) The wine that's crusted, not the 
 ic'nine in crust. 
 
 (Ogress opens pie, the frog jumps out and off L, 
 Ogress screams. The pie moves off L., 
 Ogre tries to stop it.) 
 Ogre. Of all the funny things ! A walking dish ! 
 Nobody. We only want, besides, the talking fish. 
 Ogress. Well, come, we've something left; I'll take 
 some bread. 
 
 (Ogre takes up loaf, it moves off L., Ogre 
 * folloivs and brings it back : it gets away 
 again, off L.) 
 Ogre. The place must be enchanted, or my head — 
 Tim. (Rising.) No matter, here's the wine, I give 
 
 a toast. 
 Our charming hostess and our noble host. 
 
 (Tim holds cup secretly to PrIncess's 
 viouth ; she drinks.) 
 As for these queer disturbances at lunch, 
 
 Perhaps there's something in the air — 
 
"" ""71 J 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 33 
 
 RINCESS S 
 
 Nobody. ' Or punch. 
 
 Ogre. (Rising.) Ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 All. Hear ! Hear! 
 
 Ogre. For self and wife. 
 
 This is the proudest moment of my life. 
 Whistle, my boy, I'm glad to see you. 
 
 [Claps TiMo;t back.) 
 
 Tim. Oh! 
 
 Ogre. Things have'ntgone, perhaps, as things should 
 
 go- 
 
 1 here's something scientific in the air. 
 
 (Ah enormous hornet hovers over his heud.) 
 I'here's nothing left to eat. 
 Tim. (Loo^/«^ (7/ Princess.) We'll take your /ujV. 
 
 [Hornet settles on Ogre's head.) 
 
 Ogre. [Starting) Oh! Oh! Do take it off! 
 
 I'm stung! My head ! 
 
 [Business. Nobody striking at hot net with big branch, 
 but purposely hitting the Ogre's head each time.) 
 
 Ogre. There, that will do ! Hi! don't! 
 
 XdBODY. There now, it's dead. 
 
 [They sit ; Ogre drinks a cup of wine. 
 (Enter Fairy disguised as old woman in cloak, L.) 
 I'.viRY. Please give a poor old woman just a bite- 
 O.iREss. Be off, old woman, you'll not get a mite. 
 Fairy. I'll tell your fortunes. 
 
 Ogress. • That's another matter. 
 
 Let's go for fun, and hear her silly chatter. 
 
 iThey all gather round Fairv, except Princess. She 
 takes the Ogress' hand. Tremulous music 
 during the following.) 
 
tmimn;!r-i.^ 
 
 34 
 
 Little Sobody. 
 
 Fairy. Heavy hand and cruel heart, 
 
 Soon 'twill be your turn to smart. 
 
 {She takes OcK^'i, hand.) 
 Hand so greedy, hard and cruel. 
 Soon you'll sul'fer in a duel. 
 
 [She takes Tim's hand.) 
 Hand so bold to do and dare. 
 There's a secret in the air. 
 (She goes to Princess and looks at her hand.) 
 Pretty face and gentle hand, 
 Weds the king of all this land. 
 
 And so, good morning, gentle folks. 
 
 Ogre. Be off. (Exit Fairy.) 
 
 TKat's fine ! 
 
 She's like a shower bath. Come Count, some wine ! 
 
 {They all sit down again.) 
 
 Ogress. Do play us something, Count, to cheer us up- 
 My nerves are quite upset 
 
 Tim. {Aside.) Your nerves ! You fright ! 
 
 Ogress. What's that you say ? 
 
 Tim. I'd play for you all night. 
 
 ^ (Plays " Vilikins and his Dinah.'') 
 
 Ogress. That's lovely! Ah ! I dote on music so '• 
 I've learnt, (sings,) do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do. 
 
 Tim. You sing ma'am like (aside) a peacock. 
 
 Ogress. What d'ye say ^ 
 
 Tim. I'd listen to that charming voice all day. 
 It's like a nightingale's, so sweet and low. 
 
 Ogress. You're so polite. 
 
 Tim. Oh not at all. {Aside.) Old crow ! 
 
 Ogre. Play on, do, Count, but pray don't feel surprise 
 
 I so enjoy good music when I close my eyes. 
 
 {Tm plays.) 
 
 t \k 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
Little Nobody;. 
 
 35 
 
 art. 
 
 
 )ore's 
 
 hand.) 
 
 el. 
 
 
 Tim's 
 
 hand.) 
 
 s at her hand.) 
 
 Music has charms to — 
 
 {Falls asleep, snoyes. 
 Ogress. Oh! how nice ! (Snores.) 
 
 Tim. They're oft! 
 
 , {Goes to Princess and cuts her bonds. She 
 is fast asleep.) 
 The magic music's made her sleepy too. 
 Wake up ! She's fast asleep ! What shall we do ? 
 Nobody. The fairy boots will carry her away. 
 
 {They lift Princess, but stumble backivards, Tim 
 over the Ogre, Nobody over tJie Ogress, all 
 ivake and start up.) 
 Ogre. Ho! Ho! my friend, so that's your game ! 
 
 Just stay! 
 (Ogre seizes big bough, combat betiveen Ogre and 
 Tim, K'ith a fork. Ogress sits upon 'i^oBoos. 
 Tim falls ; Ogre is going to strike, when the 
 Fairy King enters and strikes up his club.) 
 Fairy King. You're trespassing cut here on my 
 domain. 
 Stay, do not move: you, Ogre, must remain. 
 This place is haunted ; 'tis the Fairies dell. 
 And thus around you all I weave my spell. 
 
 {Waves his axe in the air, rocks at back open, 
 showing interior of fairies' grotto ; fairie 
 in group, Faiky Queen /';/ centre at back.) 
 (To the Ogre.) For fifteen hundred years you'll keep 
 
 your seat, 
 Until your ears are long enough to meet. 
 
 Nobody. The only meat you'll get, friend Ogre, maybe. 
 Ogre. Fll never, never eat another baby. 
 They're nasty little things ; they're always squalling. 
 
f 
 
 ii^' 
 
 36 
 
 Little Nobody. 
 
 Kicking and screaming, howling, yelling, bawling. 
 I only eat 'em from a sense of duty. 
 Do let me off, sir! I'm an orphan — 
 
 Nobody. Beauty ! 
 
 Fairy King. {To Ogress.) You're fond of writing, 
 here',s no end of leaves. 
 You're both pi'n''d up; /;?A'-cluded like two thieves. 
 These trees you'll find polite, not like your spouse. 
 You make your courtseys, and they'll make their houghs. 
 
 Ogress. This curt address is not at all in fashion. 
 {Aside.) If nobody were here, I'd fly in such a passion. 
 Princess. To see them printed she'll not have the 
 
 bliss. 
 NoHODY. When spring time's gone, perhaps she'll 
 printt'nips, miss. 
 Fairy Queen. The Princess now is free. (To 
 
 Princess.) Before you go, 
 Say, can you give your hand to this young beau ? 
 Princess. With all my heart. 
 
 {Gives hand to Tm, 7vho kisses it.) 
 
 Fairy Queen. Then learn a secret. 
 
 When a child at play 
 By gypsies he was stolen far away. 
 Yes, Tim the Tooter, you're of noble birth ; 
 Son of the greatest emperor on earth. 
 Your noble actions equal, too, your rank, 
 Though, alter all, you've Nobody to thank. 
 Remember this ; be good to all you meet, 
 And don't despise the beggar in the street ; 
 Nobody knows what he may come to be, ' 
 
 A prince, a peasant, or — a nobody. 
 
Little Nobody. 
 
 bawling. 
 
 Beauty ! 
 
 id of writing, 
 
 thieves. 
 
 r vspouse. 
 
 e their bouf^hs. 
 
 n fabhion. 
 
 ch a passion. 
 
 not have the 
 
 )erhaps she'll 
 
 free. [To 
 
 37 
 
 Nobody. (To audience.) If we have pleased you witli 
 our little play, 
 Perhaps you'll show it in the usual way. 
 
 . , [Stops a moment,) 
 
 Nobody knows how many are our flaws. 
 Nobody thanks you for your kind applause. 
 
 {Coloured flies.) 
 » • 
 
 Fairv King. 
 Nobody. Princess. 
 
 Ogress. 
 
 Tim. 
 
 Ogre. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ? beau ? 
 
 who kisses it.) 
 
 Iiild at play 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
i 4*w^ pnu fati ^mvQ pto^l 
 

 I 
 
N 
 
 _ J 
 
 j^Hp 
 
 i 
 
 ■1 
 
 A 
 
 J^K 
 
 
 •■<H>u^ :i',hJM 
 
 ^1^' 
 
 
 
 
 

 MAIDEN MONA THE MERMAID. 
 
 ^ iakji glati for .fairii gcoptc. 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. D. 
 
 TORONTO : 
 BELFORD BROS., PUBLISHERS. 
 
 MDCCCLXXVII. 
 
I f 
 
 p 
 
 Dudley & Rurns, Trinters. 
 
 Hunter, Rose & Co., Bookbinder ; 
 
 
TO THE 
 CniLDRES OF in Kin KXCKLLKSCIES, 
 
 THE EA2L AKD COUNTECS OF EUrFEEIN. 
 TUB 
 
 FOR 
 
 (lEhoge Qlhristmiis J|un these Plans are cHvitten, 
 
 THIS LITTLK VOLF.Mi:, 
 
 f 
 
 l^ith tAiM Its sole cxiitse for its itonsensr, 
 
 n 
 
 ^ffectiouatclu 3c^icateb. 
 
 ii c? 
 
MAIDEN MONA THE MERMAID. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 The Gnome King, — A penniless potentate who used to play first fiddle, 
 hui lias lost his key. 
 
 O'RoosTER THE Audacious. — High Cockolorum. Master of the [rot kin i:;) 
 Horse. First Lord of the Shaving Brush. Gold Stick in ■w(h)aiting to the 
 King, and a warm stick, in plaster to Coquettina, Q.E.D. ; A'.S.f.P. ; 
 R./.P. .-etc., etc., etc. 
 
 General Bounce. — Alb relation to General De Billy Tee. 
 
 Captain Pounce. — Not Kept-in-pounds, shillings and pence, alas! Too 
 poor to " maruwy.''^ 
 
 Noodle, \ Trains and orphans ; without, strange to say, a single parent 
 > left, ( of course, a single pair ain't right.) Their prospects, 
 Doodle. ) however, are in a fine pickle, which is something. 
 
 MONA THE Mermaid. — Only a mei-(e)maid she. 
 
 The Queen of dainty, 7Vte things. 
 Fresh from the seething waves. 
 
 The last sweet thing in sea things. 
 
 M-R-T-N T-l'I'-R.- 
 
 CoyuETTiNA. — The Maid of the Mil(itary). Such a pet! 
 
 The Fairy of the Forest. — " The szveet little cherubwho sits up aloft 
 
 And takes care of the life of poor fack.^' 
 (Mr. Noodle. ) 
 
 SH-K-SI'-R. 
 
 Coralina. — A duodecimo edition of a darling. 
 
I' 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 ■VK- 
 
 OVEKNMENT 
 
 rOUSE 
 
 )TTAWA 
 
 New Year's Day, 1877. 
 
 TheO.nomk Kixd Hon. Tkrkvck Blackwood. 
 
 O'ROOSTKR TIIK AlPACIOI'S MR. EdWARI) LiTTLKTON. 
 
 (iBNERAI. BorXCK >IR. ALGKKXON l.ITTLKTON. 
 
 ('AITAIN I'OHNCR HON. BASII, HLACKWOOD. 
 
 NooDLK Captain Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 DooDLK Captain Hamilton, A.D.C. 
 
 MONA TIIK Mbrmaii) Ladv Helbn Blackwood. 
 
 CoQt'KTTiNA Miss Maroarkt Littlkton. 
 
 TiiR Fairy of TiiR Forest - - - Lady Hkrmione Blackwood. 
 
 Coralina Lady Victoria Blackwood. 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
:awa 
 
 Tkiiknck Blackwood. 
 Sdward Litti/KTOn. 
 
 \L«KKXON LiTTLKTON. 
 
 Hash, IJiiACKWooD. 
 \iN Waki), A.D.C. 
 viN Hamilton, A.D.C. 
 
 Hklbn Blackwood. 
 Maroarkt Littleton. 
 
 Hkkmionk Blackwood 
 
 Victoria Blackwood. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Caver Ji on the Sea Coast by Moonlii^ht. — Openimj in Rorhs 
 at Backy s/io7vifig Sea. — 77ie Waves are Rising ami 
 Running i?ito Mouth of Cavern. — Introduetory Music De- 
 scriptive of Storm \ Thunder Heard Behind. — Music Gra 
 dually Changes to Soft Measured Air as Curtain Rises. — 
 Prince Doodle Discovered Lying on Rocks at Back. R. C. 
 as though Cast up by the Waves. — Enter through Opening 
 Mona. — She Comes Do7i.>n, Combing Ilcr Hair with a 
 Golden Comb through the follo7C'ing : — 
 
 ^jjl^^ ONA. Why, what a (h-eadful stormy iiiglit wo'n> 
 getting, 
 It's well for me I do not mind a wetting ! 
 
 Full fathom five below those crested waves 
 No tempests ever stir our coral caves. 
 We hear no thunder far helow the sea ; 
 The mermaids' haunt is still as still can be ; 
 In fact it's rather dull sometimes down there, 
 A.nd so I come up here and comb my hair. 
 
 {Moves toivards back). 
 
 To-night, alas ! another ship went down, 
 cannot bear to see pooi sailors drown. 
 
 {Sees Prince Doodle). 
 

 I 
 
 lO 
 
 AMaidcn Afona the AlcrmaU. 
 
 Good gracious ! What is this ? As 1 am alive, 
 Why, it's a man ! I kuow it is ! 
 
 {Steps hurriedly on rock as though going to plunge into sc& 
 
 1 11 dive ! 
 I won't ! {comes down) I will ! {(joen uj)) No I 
 (Hesitates) Shall I ? Will it bite ? 
 It's not a shark ? {(jocs up and jjeeps, comes hack holdih 
 itand to heart) It's put me in a fright. 
 
 Mona ! you silly goose ! This palpitation 
 Is strange perhaps, but not a bad sensation. 
 I rather like it. Is it fear ? No question ! 
 I'm not afraid ! Perhaps it's indigestion ? 
 I'll take another peep. 
 
 {Goes to Prince on tip toe ^ and comes away rapidly^ clapping k 
 hands). 
 
 He's charming, really ! 
 If I could take him home I'd like to dearly. 
 How nice he'd be to play with ! Shall I try ? 
 He's fast aslee}) ! I'm sure he wouldn't die. 
 
 {Tries to raise him. He groan 
 His clothes are wet, perhaps he's shipwrecked, too. 
 
 {Prince slowly sits up holding his hand to his sidi 
 Good evening, sir. {Curtesy ing). 
 
 Prince Doodle. Good evening. How d'ye do ? 
 
 {Ibises with difficulty and conies forivara 
 
 Where am I ? Who are you ? What's this ? {Fei 
 water.) It's water ! 
 
im alive, 
 
 ' to plunge into sea 
 
 dive ! 
 
 No! 
 
 mien hack hoUlih 
 
 ation 
 tion. 
 ion ! 
 n? 
 
 •dpidly, clapping k 
 
 ally! 
 
 irly. 
 
 I try ? 
 die. 
 
 //////. He groam 
 
 reeked, too. 
 
 is hand to his sidi 
 
 j\v d'ye do ? 
 fid comes fortvara 
 t's tliis? {Fu 
 
 Maiden Moua the Mermaid. 
 
 II 
 
 MoNA. This Ls the Norway eoast, and I'm its daughter. 
 
 Young sir, you're wet ! your coat 
 
 Might be a better 'un. 
 I'm young ; but still you won't find here a 'wetter 'uu. 
 
 MoNA. Tell me your tale, for stories I love well. 
 
 Prince Doodle. Story; why bless you ! T have none 
 to tell ; 
 Only last night, a-sailing on the ocean, 
 There came a squall, at least so I've a notion. 
 It stormed I it bl(;vv ! it rained ! the lightning crashed ! 
 We pitched and rolled, {indfatcH Dwtloa of sh'q)) and 
 
 tossed, the thunder flashed ; 
 The wind, it rose and howled, and so did we. 
 
 MONA. That's very queer ! 
 
 Princ;: Doodle. Things often are at sea. 
 
 " Cut down the starboard stays' 1 !"^cried I. Then 
 " Splice the jib-boom, there, to the cross-trees, men !" 
 
 (Speaks excitedly, suiting action to words, and using hands as 
 speaking trumpet,) 
 
 " Stand by to hoist the to'gallant sheet anchor ! 
 
 Take a pull on the weathei* lee scuppers, my hearties I 
 
 Let the mizzen binnacle go with a run I 
 
 MoNA. ( Clapping her hands with delight. ) 
 I like to hear you talk. Go on ! What fun ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. {Disgusted at interruption.) 
 That's all. 
 
12 
 
 Mtiidi'ii Mona tlw MermaU, 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 
 iMoNA. (Dhdpjmnted) That's not the end ? 
 
 I'lMNri-: DooDLK. 'T won't t!ik(3 a niiiuiit. 
 
 ri»o Hliij) hIu; <,'avo a lui'cli ; and — loft uh in it. 
 riuMi to a hvAi cooj) clung tlu; crow of forty-tivo ; 
 
 MoNA. TI\(;y'ro di'owned ? (clasplnfj her handn i 
 hcrror). 
 
 Prince Doodlk. Oh, not at all ; they're all alive. 
 Thoy flew away. 
 
 MOXA. 
 
 Prince Doodle, 
 
 What, men 
 
 No ; goose, my dear ! 
 I'm rather mixed. Perhaps my head is ([uoer. 
 Listen, and I'll a talii unfold to harrow 
 
 MoNA. {Shrinking back) 
 Ah ! Don't ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. 
 
 MONA. 
 
 Prince Doodle. 
 
 V 
 
 ( 
 
 A tale to fr-r-r-r-eoze 
 
 Oh, dear ! 
 Your marrow ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. {Loud cJiord^ and trcmulo music through 
 the following.) 
 1 have an uncle ! 
 
 MoNA. Not uncommon, surely. 
 
 Prince Doodle. Some years ago, my poor papa fel 
 
 poorly ; 
 Took to his bed, and — died — they say most (pieerly. 
 My uncle deals in magic ? See you ? 
 
 II 
 n 
 
 '1 
 
 t' 
 
Maiden Mona the Mermaid 
 
 «3 
 
 're all alive. 
 
 Mona. Clearly ! 
 
 TuiNCK Doodle. My parent ^'one, th' apparent heir 
 was I ! 
 \) «;ain the throne he wi.sheJ that I .should die. 
 
 lid then, because I couldn't see wliy he, 
 nstead of 1, th(^ nation's kiiiy; should be ; 
 
 e .shipped nie ofK, alone, to go to see, 
 
 lone I said ! not so ! ott' was I cast 
 Vith four and forty ^^^eese before the mast ! 
 lis partin<jj words were these : — " Return, my dear, 
 jOf course tlu; whole thin«j^ was a jibe and sneer) 
 
 When'ere a mei'maid's heart you liohl in hand, 
 
 And four and forty men before me stand, 
 
 In ])lace of all these geese I send as crew. 
 
 'Till then — * O reservoir !' my boy ! adieu !" 
 
 Mona. Oh ! what a dreadful man ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. He seized my brother ; 
 
 lud swore we ne'er again should see each other 
 Fntil this mermaid I should meet, so kind, 
 liid then a mountain full of diamonds find. 
 
 he thing is absurd ! There are no mermaids liere, 
 ly uncle has the throi(;7i ; I'm pitched out clear ! 
 
 Mona. The diamond mountain of the Gnome Kinir, 
 see 
 
 (Poi/ifs offL.) 
 t's full of diamonds : full as full can be. 
 
 PiUNCE Doodle. What's that you say ? That nioun- 
 . tain ! It's all rock. 
 
li: 
 III 
 
 14 
 
 Maidi'tt Motia tiir Mermaid. 
 
 Diamonds inside ! Oh, come ! you only mock ! 
 I'd like to see my brotlier — 
 
 MoNA. What's 3'^our name ? 
 
 Prince Doodle. Oh ! I'm a Prince, Prince Doodle. 
 
 MoNA. What a shame ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. My kingdom's in Cockagne, yov 
 
 must have heard 
 Of Cock-a-doodle-do. (^S'/iC shaJces head.) That noble 
 
 bird 
 Was a remote progenitor. Indeed, 
 Our pedigree, by Darwin, 3'^ou can read. 
 
 MoNA. I never learnt to read. Stay ! {puts fingers to 
 forehead) on me dawns, » 
 
 A notion {triwuvphantly) that's where people live 
 "en Prince ?-" {pronounce " on ^irawns.") 
 
 Prince Doodle. {Aside) A notion fishy ! {Aloud.) 
 No, my dear, on shrimj^s ! 
 Your friends ? — They're ? 
 
 MoNA. Mermaids. 
 
 Prince Doodle. luater-" nimps V* 
 
 Why iu{h)at a — {looks toivards her feet) tail ? 
 
 Forgive the observation. 
 Is there not something queer in your formation ? 
 {Hesitatinglf/.) You don't wear Ijoots and shoes ? {aside] 
 
 Ah, tliat a fix is ! 
 They ca/i-'^ of course ! 
 
 M 
 
 on 
 
 Pj 
 M 
 
 or 
 nd 
 
 ?n 
 Asit 
 . m( 
 
 Asi( 
 Mc 
 
 Pr 
 
 ith 
 Mo 
 
 >oar 
 Pri 
 
 lylo 
 
•^ 
 
 ck! 
 
 r name ? 
 ice Doodle. 
 , shame ! 
 )ckagne, you 
 
 That noble 
 
 Maiden Motia the Mermaid. 15 
 
 MoNA. Why not ? My niimber'a " sixes." 
 
 ou never heard of f^o\e?i and eels 1 
 
 Prince Doodle. 
 
 Yes, fried ! 
 
 uis fingers to 
 le live 
 
 is:') 
 
 Y ! (Aloud.) 
 
 nps 
 
 2 
 
 »» 
 
 ation, 
 ion ? 
 
 loes ? (aside) 
 is! 
 
 MoNA. Aroinid our grottoes, there('«) sea-horses(s) 
 hide. 
 
 or hark you've heard tlie " moa.iing of the iied," 
 
 lid hide and hark make leather, eh ? 
 
 Prince Doodle. Of course ! 
 
 Aside) I've traced my night mare up to its sea-horse ; 
 . mermaid ! Here's my chance ! (Aloud.) Dear me ! 
 
 How stupid ! 
 Aside.) Now aid me, Venus ! 
 
 MoNA. (OverJi earing aside.) Venus! He must be 
 
 Cupid ! 
 hy how the boy has grown! (Aloud.) Is she your 
 
 "Ma?" 
 
 Prince Doodle. Alas, sweet maid ! I am a norphan ! 
 
 (sighs) Ah ! 
 ith ne'er a parent, we're a pair rent, too. 
 
 MoNA. You have my sympathy, what can I do ! 
 
 (Aside, holding hand to heart.) 
 )ear me ! That queer sensation's come again ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. Your sympathy, wr, mends an 
 
 orphan's pain, 
 [y loving, lass ! 
 
1^ 
 
 If 
 
 l6 
 
 Maiden Mona the Mermaid. 
 
 MoNA. Your glass, I'd mend, Prince, but 
 
 Regret I've neither got cements nor putty. 
 
 Prince Doodle. Say, could you learn to love ? 
 
 Mona. {Innocently?) You'll teach ine your way ? 
 
 Prince Doodle. It's })lain ! No doubt it's much tl 
 same in Norway. 
 {fic puts arm round her waist and is goitig to kiss her, 7vhe?i I 
 
 looks off L.) 
 See ! yonder comes a K'orse-man on an *orse ! 
 
 Mona. Oh ! Let us fly ! The Gnome King ! 
 
 Prince Doodle. Fly ! Of course 
 
 If you'll fly with me, dear, we'll never ]mrt. 
 
 Mona. (Aside.) I've just discovered that I've got- 
 a heart ! 
 {Exeunt through opening at baek R. U. E. E?iter L. 2 7 G. K 
 
 Ro 
 G. 
 
 ell, 
 e \v 
 
 tati^' 
 
 et's 
 
 The Gnome Kijig on a rocking horse, attended by Roosti 
 the Audacious, General Bounce, and Captain Pounce.) 
 
 Gnome Kino. Whoa ! Steady, boy ! Here tat 
 this beast away 
 And sturt'his mouldy ribs with ancient hay. 
 {exit R. U.E. Caiitain Pownce tvith horse ; he retuv) 
 front) The only steed in all our royal stable ; 
 We'd keep a dozen were we only able. 
 The times are hard and out of joint 'tis clear. 
 We're out of joints ourselves — and beer. 
 Ha 1 ha ! (to Rooster.) Why can't you laugh ? Ha ! ha '. 
 
 rmg 
 
 iuost 
 
 .<ii<le 
 
 [St<i 
 G. ¥ 
 Roo 
 
 Roo; 
 
 s pr( 
 G. K 
 Rooi 
 G. h 
 Rooi 
 
 G. K 
 
 ixea 
 
Maidfii Moua th( Mcrnnihi. 
 
 i7 
 
 Prince, but 
 
 • love ? 
 our way ? 
 it's much th 
 
 ss her, ivhen I 
 
 'e! 
 
 .iiig 
 
 Of course 
 
 at I've got- 
 
 \dcd by RoosU 
 tain Poutice.) 
 
 Here tak 
 
 he o'etuvi 
 
 Rooster, (feehly,) 
 
 He ! he 
 
 G. KiN(J. What mean these looks, you're very grave, 
 
 see. 
 
 Ha ! ha '. 
 
 ell, let's to business. What are all these matters ? 
 
 e want some coin, our robes are torn to tatters. 
 eats himself on rock. R.) 
 
 et's hear the worst. Produce your budget, (|uick ! 
 ring lights ! Pray what's the price of candles, stick f 
 
 iooster aside.) There's not a candle left, (aloud) It's 
 
 nearly morning. 
 side) What shall I say. (((load) Sir, sec the day is 
 
 dawning. 
 {Stage gradually grows light.) 
 
 Ct. King. W^ell, how's the Exchequer ? 
 
 Roos. Empty. 
 
 (J. King. Stock it. 
 
 Roos. Pve eighteen pence, sir, in my waistcoat 
 
 pocket. 
 s pretty clear wq must increase taxation. 
 
 G. K. We'll tax the gnomes of each denomination. 
 
 Roos. They're taxed already, sir, wholesale and retail. 
 
 (i. K. Tax them some more. 
 
 Roos. But how ( 
 
 G. K, VW'll, that's a detail, 
 
 ixes Tax every thing and every body, 
 
■I 
 
 i8 
 
 Maiden Mona the Mcnnaid. 
 
 Toffee and tubs, ice cream and whiskey toddy. 
 Tax folks wlio fisli — for compliments or salmon. 
 Lay taxes on their corns for shooting, 
 
 Roos. (aside) Gammon. 
 
 You're pleased to joke. The situation's grave. 
 
 G. K. And so am I. I'm quite iii earnest, slave. 
 Then, tax the air they breathe, the airs they hear. 
 And tax their wives, it's right they should be dear. 
 Tax all pet oysters, sprats and whales they're keeping 
 Tax 'em for eating, drinking, also sleeping. 
 Tax them besides for laughing, singing, crying. 
 And lay a heavy tax on folks for di/eiug. 
 Put taxes on the nation's food and fuel, 
 From turtle soup, to grits for babies' gruel. 
 Stay, here I have it ! why, of course, you gabies 
 You'd make a fortune by a tax on babies. 
 
 General Bounce, (hesitatingly) Can't we econo 
 mise, that's my suggestion, 
 What's Toby and what's not Toby's the (piestion ? 
 
 G. K. Well, how's the array ? can we cut it down ? 
 Make sixpence go as far as half a crown ? 
 
 G. BOUNCK. One General, ('points to self,) and on 
 
 Captain of the forces. 
 
 (Points to Captain Pounce 
 An iueliicient staff, sir, that of course is ; 
 Of cavalry we've none. 
 
 G. K. The " Rvle Artileret 
 
 G 
 
 G. 
 
 [Eat 
 
 But 
 
 I gri. 
 
 N( 
 
 G. 
 
 I'm n 
 
 G. 
 Protei 
 
 N()( 
 
 mus 
 
 bor si; 
 
 ve ej 
 
 rVnd t 
 
 neve 
 
 The G 
 
 That's 
 
 o hej 
 
 )ne ii 
 
 ^lothii 
 
 rom 
 
 IHe'll > 
 
uunou. 
 
 slave, 
 lioar, 
 1 dear, 
 're keepin 
 
 Maiden Monn flu- .^fcrniai f. 
 
 19 
 
 or 
 
 )ies 
 
 we econo 
 
 Ition ? 
 down ? 
 
 ^'J and 01 
 \tain Pouno 
 
 Artilerec 
 
 G. B. Burst up. 
 
 (J. K. The Infantry ? 
 
 G. B. . All here you see. 
 
 [Enter Noodle, ch^ full i>ru'ate, toy <jui(, bayonet Jived.) 
 But he's a \ng one. Pray don't mention halving-; 
 I grieve to say it, but the army's — 
 
 Noodle. (Sepulchrally.) , Starving ! 
 
 G. K. Here's insurrection ! mutiny ! revolt ! 
 I'm not afraid, but jVraps I'd better bolt. 
 
 (Rooster, Genkual and Captain rwn off, 1{.) 
 
 G. K. Here ofKceis, on vour alleuiance sta\', 
 Protect your monarch now, don't run away ! 
 
 {/^uus off R.) 
 
 Noodle. (C. leanhuj on (jun.) 
 
 1 must confess. I think it s rather hard. 
 Por sixteen weeks I've been here, mountinij i-uard. 
 IVe eaten nothinic but a rind of cheese, 
 iVnd tliat wont hel[) a man to " stand at ease." 
 I never get to mess, but into messes, 
 riie Geneial's joint is when the loine he dresses. 
 That's not the worst ; it's more than I can bear, 
 To hear the little beggar cry " form s(|uare !" 
 )ne into four, won't go. He says it will. 
 Nothing goes into me I know, but drill. 
 From morn till night he has me t)n my legs. 
 He'll wear them off" as sure as e<xus are eixixs." 
 
20 
 
 Mai it'll A/i'fiij the Mcrmaiti. 
 
 He talks of " irinf/s," as if I were a bird. 
 
 " By your left wheel I" he cries. The thinijj's absurd. 
 
 I d like to know why should I ha/j a wheel ! 
 
 If I had any cash I'd buy a meal. 
 
 I'll strike. Along the shore, I'll take a stroll, 
 
 Perhaps the waves will give a nice fresh roll. 
 
 A witch foretold that here I'd meet my brother. 
 
 Alas, I fear we should not know each other. 
 
 I'll put a board up, that will do to tell. 
 
 ( Gr/s a piece of plank and sorites on it in chalk. 
 " Dere brother I am hear close buy. 
 Yours, 
 
 NO0])J.K. 
 
 2d Mister Doodlk. Places board agalvst rock, R.C.J 
 It's fortunate at school I learnt to spell. 
 
 (Exit Noodle, L. U. E. 
 {Re-enter cautioudy, King, Rooster, General 
 
 and Captain R) 
 
 The army's disinfected ! 
 
 What's the reason ? 
 
 Off without leave, he's gone. 
 
 No leaf I it's trees-ou ! 
 
 G. B. 
 G. K. 
 
 Rooster. 
 G. Bounce. 
 
 G. K. Pray cease your jokes, we have no time for fun. 
 This is an unkind cut, much over done. 
 The army gone I Say, is there further ill ? 
 
 Rooster. Allow me to present your tailors' bill. 
 
 (Unfolds loiKj roll of hill which rums 
 
 oaf on the floor.) 
 
AlaiJai Mono the Mcvmaid. 
 
 ai 
 
 Rooster. 
 (I. Bounce. 
 
 G. K. It must be done. A plan I'll now uiifoKl, 
 To fill our empty jturse once m')iv with goM. 
 Stay I Are we quite secure ? 
 
 {Business : each ^i^oi/iK (»t tip-toe to A', ami L. 
 etitratices, listenini; and returning 7vith 
 exaggerated melodramatic action. MusiCy 
 soft chords. Stacato. ) 
 
 One word ! I hne ! 
 > (Loud chord, all start.) 
 
 {Erujuii'ivglf/j. Thou love'st i 
 
 (Suspicions/ f/.) He loves. 
 
 (Jai»taix Pounce. (CoiifidmliitJlu.) We love ! 
 Rooster. (Surprised) Ye love ! 
 
 G. KixNG. (Disgusfcd.) Tlieylove! 
 
 My love's declined with thanks. Alas, it's true, 
 Kings are but mortals, and I love like you. 
 All. The maid ? 
 
 G. King. A mermaid. Nay, you should'nt start, 
 A mermaid, like a cabbage, has a heart. 
 I offei'ed her my hand ; in it the key 
 That opened locks to all the treasuiy. 
 My mountain diamcmd mines ! my gold ! I rave ! 
 
 G. B. She took it ? 
 
 G. King. Yes, and Hung it iti the wave. 
 
 Since then, you know, I've not l)een worth a ])in ; 
 The rocky doors are closed, I can't gt't in. 
 Listen. Next time she comes to land, we'll seize her. 
 
i 
 
 1 
 
 wm 
 
 
 ■!l! 
 
 22 
 
 Maiden Moiia t.'u- Mermaid. 
 
 And till she fetclit's back tliat key, I'll tease her. 
 Ffullo ! a step ! 
 
 {All Jddc. R. 4" L. Enter Prime 
 Doodle off rock R.) 
 
 DooDLiv Such I'un ! the iiierniaid nation, 
 
 Is not averse, I tiii<l, from small flirtation. 
 
 We're gettini: on. 
 
 {Sees board.) 
 What's this ! What have we here ? 
 
 {Reads notice aloud.) 
 Joy ! jo}' ! So then my long lost brother's near. 
 He can't be fai-, (calls) Hi ' Noodle ! Noodle : Noodle ! 
 
 (K.nii R. adling Noodle. Enter MoNA at centre) 
 she hesitates, looks round.) 
 
 MoNA. I wonder what's become of darling Doodle 
 ( Comes down. G. King, and the others follozv in 
 stealthily : the G. King has a v.il. 
 We're playing hide and seek. It's charming play. 
 We play foi- kisses, and he always makes me pay. 
 I wonder where he's uone ! 
 
 (G. King throws veil over' her, she shrieks. )\ 
 We'll hide you, miss ; 
 Can't yon n fiord to give a King a kiss ? 
 
 {She struggles. i\ 
 Unless jon get my golden key so shiny, 
 You may as well say ta, ta, to the briny. 
 
 {Scene closes in 7uith view of the CottagA 
 of the Maid of the Ad UL) 
 
her 
 
 Enter Prime \ 
 k R.) 
 
 maid nation, 
 
 n. 
 
 {Sees board.) 
 
 SCENE li. 
 
 COQ L' ETTI N AS CoTTAU K. 
 
 notice aloud.) •'(ji^uettina discovered looking at herself in a <;lass on L. 'luall. 
 ar. I Arm chair li'ifh cover on^ R. Cnplward, R. Door^ L. 
 
 I Noodle ! I Barrel against icall, L. Table with cover^ C, candle 
 N A a t centre, I burning on fable. 
 
 "•) I CoQ. Tliere, that will do, that's quit(; cnoiifjh my dear. 
 
 •ling Doodle |)h, Coquettina, you're a tlirt, I fear. 
 
 thcrs follo7v ifiWlow nau<jjhty, naughty girl to act tliis v/ay. 
 
 as a V il. 
 )lay. 
 
 pay. 
 
 <he shrieky.) 
 
 he struggles 
 
 ih I you'll be xi'vy sorry, Miss, some day 
 
 (Cmnes down.) 
 
 'ill sure it's not mv fault. What can one <lo ? 
 
 dote on officers, and I've now got two. 
 
 he Captain's not amiss ; a handsome face ! 
 
 nd such a uniform ! (3h, 1 love gold lace, 
 lis pay's so small — it's not a bit of use. 
 Jut then the GeiK^'ral's such a dear — old goose, 
 le's rather short a]i<l fat, and slightly lazy, 
 lis conversation's small ; style, lackadaisy. 
 of the Cottagtm{\\\^ ^vho for (jciirntl conversation cares ? 
 A'//ll.) ^h^ stay, I hear him puffing up the stairs. 
 
'!l! 
 
 H 
 
 Miiineii Afonn the Mctntaid. 
 
 {Seats herself hinriedly in ehair, Z., at back, and pretends I ^ 
 be asleep. Rap heard at aoor, Z., rtpeated /7^;J]'v(' 
 (iKNERAi, iJoL'Ni K////.S- his head earefully into room.) 
 
 Vi. B. Wlmt, not at lioiiie ! (Co7?i^/.sw/ovoin.. 
 
 Tlicsc parlours in the skj 
 Are niucli liko houses in Soho, m liigh. 
 I'm out of breatli, and she's out too, it's clear, ■ (J 
 
 I've had my clinih for nothing. {SecH Coquettlnm ai 
 
 {Ap2yroachhi[/ her) Ah, she's here ! %\\) t 
 
 My dainty duck ! my lamb, my tender chicken ! 
 The cherries on those lips are worth the pickin'. 
 1 must take one, though she may fume and flounce. 
 She'll nut object as Mrs. General Bounce. 
 
 (is about to kiss her, she starts uj 
 
 COQ. Ah, General .' It's you ? 
 
 G. B. (coif fused) I'm looking for — 
 
 CoQ. your goi 
 
 A taste of something good and nice, 
 
 Ah, stoui 
 I see it's n]:^, (Looking at hirti meaningly.) 
 
 You'd better take it down, 
 
 (Points to door 
 Gen. B. Now what a tease you are ! Come, do ni 
 frown. 
 Don't, Coquettina, of my love make light. 
 You leant u])on my arm quite hard last niglit. 
 Say you'll be mine, come, Coquettina, do ! 
 
 I am a single man. 
 
 I'm : 
 Oh, 
 To 1( 
 
 Cc 
 
 Gi 
 
 My/ 
 
 Vou 
 
 Two 
 
 Co 
 Ge 
 
 Cc 
 Mam 
 
 (pi 
 
 Meet 
 
Maiden Mona tlw Mcvtiuud. 
 
 as 
 
 and pretmdsW ^''*Q- 
 npeated t7vi\ 
 y into room.) 
 
 [Comes (lowt 
 irs iu tlio sk 
 
 You're l)ii:" cnou<rli t*<>r two. 
 
 ar, 
 
 s Coquett'uu 
 
 le's here ! 
 
 ken ! 
 
 ckin'. 
 
 1 Hounce, 
 
 ", s//e starts uj 
 
 y for — 
 your gov 
 
 All, ."itov 
 
 )\V11, 
 
 Points to door 
 Come, do ni 
 
 it. 
 
 've only one objection. 
 
 (iKX. B. 
 
 Pray lean on nie for life 
 Coq. 
 
 What is that i 
 
 L('(tn ! why, you're /'<'/ / 
 
 Gen. B. Call me not lean, but say I'm buxom, plump. 
 1 am no scare-crow, made to run and jump. 
 To tell the truth, I like to take my ease, 
 I'm not a skippc}' with a load of (f) " Ices." 
 I)h, that this too, too solid Hesh would melt 
 To less than sixty inches round the belt ! 
 
 CoQ. You can't help that, 'tis yon. 
 
 Gen. B. Well tlien, suppose 
 
 My tissue is inclined to adipose. 
 You could'nt add a pose with all that tissue. 
 Twould be a poser if I were to kiss you. 
 
 OoQ. Why wh&V a possest the man? I'd like to s(^e 
 you ! 
 
 Gex. B. Well, so you shall. Here goes ! (lie at- 
 teimpts to chase Iter around stage, she easily eludes 
 him. Ki\ock heard at door. 
 
 CoQ. Oh, dear, oh, dear ! 
 
 Mamma's come back ! Quick, General, get in here. 
 
 (pushes him into cupboard, R. Business, he not /ikin^ to go in. 
 Rap again.) 
 
 Meet me beneath the haunted tree to-morrow. 
 
26 
 
 Miiiiii'tt Mouii t/'w Mcnnaid. 
 
 Taki! it easy. 
 
 (fEN. B. Adit'u ! 
 
 C><)Q. Pray go ! 
 
 (Jkn. B. This partinjj^'s such sweet sorrow 
 
 {He i^oes into luplwniii^ crush of broken ^lass heard. l\ 
 puts his head out again. ) 
 
 I've sat upon your glasses ! 
 
 COQ. 
 
 My abwrice won't he long. 
 
 Gen. B. {i^u I jffi about cupboard.) Your hcvuIh ari 
 
 cheesy, 
 
 {Kxit into cupboard. She runs to door and opens i\ 
 Enter Capt. Pounce. She curtseys., and looks do7t' 
 demurely. Pie comes front., tivirling his moustache.) 
 
 Capt. P. So this is where you live, child, is it, weally 
 You're up amongst the clouds here. 
 
 CoQ. Yes, Sir, nearh] 
 
 Capt. P. {GalUmtly) For such a chewub quite 
 pwoper place. 
 {Anide.) Upon my word, a vewy pwetty face! 
 
 {Looks out of window at R.) 
 
 And what a view ! All twees and sheep in flocks, 
 And wolling waves awound those wugged vvocks. 
 
 {She is standing by him as he speaks the last words. I. 
 puts arm round her ivaisf.) 
 
 CuQ. Thafs not a " wugged wock." Don't let 
 trouble you. 
 But have you such a thing as a spai'e W f 
 
Ma'uini Mona the Mcnnaid. 
 
 27 
 
 Cait. T. (Jh, woally, pun iny lift', you'iv vewy pwctty. 
 
 Cm^. I tliaiik you kindly, Sir. 
 
 sweet sorroijBi 'APT. P. And woally witty. 
 
 jss heard. /M^ [f \\\ got some place t(3 which to cawwy you, 
 on my word IM weally like to niawwy you. 
 
 "^OQ. {j\.Me.) The darling ! He's a man a i^irl can 
 love. 
 
 t easy. 
 
 nr .%r/^^s' ai 
 
 [.'apt. T. (Jjookhuj on (jrouml.) I fear I've lost it 
 now. 
 
 'OQ. 
 
 r afid opens \ 
 
 ifid looks ^<^^'B'apt. p. 
 is moustache.) 
 
 Your heart ^ 
 
 My glove. 
 
 {Lona sneezing J ro7n cupboard.') 
 
 , is it, weally|at's that. 
 
 OQ. The ginger i)cer lias burst a bottle. 
 
 '' ' ^I.APT. P. It sounded vewy like a human thwottle ! 
 
 {Rap heard at door.) 
 
 /OQ. Ah, here's mamma ! quick, hide in this, now, see ! 
 
 {Puts him into barrel. Business.) 
 morrow meet me Ity the haunted tree. 
 
 {Throws cloth o^er top of barrel.) 
 have such fun to-morrow for an hour. 
 
 Japt. P. (Rii^in(j). Look here, I say, this bawwel's 
 full of flour : 
 
 (6'//<? runs to him, forces him back and puts coverlet on 
 again. Rap ai^ain. She goes to door and opens it.) 
 
 3wub quite 
 
 ace ! 
 V at R.) 
 
 flocks, 
 wocks. 
 jst 7C'ords. I. 
 
 I)(m't let 
 
28 
 
 Maiden Afotia the Mcnuaid. 
 
 • 
 
 {Enter Roo.vrKR the Audacious, a big bundle of p'\. 
 tied ivith red tape ^ under Ids arm.) 
 
 Roos. Miss Coquettiiita, is your Ma', within ? 
 
 ( Pu//s out enormous watch from fob pocket 
 I've twenty minutes left to woo and win. 
 
 C(K^ To woo and win ! Upon my word that's fuii: 
 
 Rooster. Business is business, Miss, and tim^ 
 mone}-. 
 
 All night I sat up on affairs of State. 
 
 I had to shave the King at half-past eight. 
 
 At nine to black his boots and brush his hair. 
 
 By ten, as President, I took the chair 
 
 Of the Society for Reforming Cats — 
 
 R. S. R. C. At twelve I sat on " Hats." 
 
 C^OQ. Hats : 
 
 Roos. Yes, and hatters, 'twas a much felt ([uestioi 
 At one I had some lunch, and — indigestion. 
 At tw(. I had to meet a de[)utation — 
 " Was it, or was it not, gof)d for the nation 
 That folks should be allowed beef with their mustat 
 It was a serious matter. 
 
 ( 'oQ. Were vou fluster 
 
 Roos. Oh, not at all, I said — If they could get it. 
 At two 'twas ffoinir on. 
 
 CoQ. So's time. 
 
 Roos. Well, let 
 
 Till eight — thre^: meetings; a founrlation stone. 
 
 It 
 
Maiden Mona the Mermaid. 
 
 39 
 
 bi^bitndle of pc\ 
 
 len dressed tlie King for dimier ; had my own. 
 [me lierc to pop tlie question — Will you wed ? 
 bust get back to put the King to bed. 
 V ves or no. 
 
 {^Rap at door.) 
 k now ! Some other time ! 
 
 You'd better ask manuna. 
 
 Yes ! Now ! 
 
 No : 
 
 ;re vou tluster'i 
 
 LOOS. 
 IJoQ. 
 loos. Ball ! 
 
 LoQ. She may be angry. Get beneath the table. 
 I'ttse. To oblige me. {loud rap.) 
 
 ioos. Well, if I am able. 
 
 tU under table.) 1 must confess I feel how ill you 
 treat me. 
 
 yOQ. To-morrow, by the haunted tree you'll meet me. 
 (Goes to door and opens it. Enter G, King. 
 She curtseys. He chuck>i her under chin.) 
 
 LJnome King. Well, lass, your pretty face I've long 
 
 been missing, 
 ju've got a kiss I hope — 
 
 'OQ. {Coquettishly.) It's always kissing. 
 
 St like a man I He always rn'o^ses kisses. 
 
 King. It's very hard a man can't kiss his misses. 
 have your little head chopped off. Miss ! Pray 
 In't make me angry ! One ! two ! three ! Away ! 
 
30 
 
 Maiden Alona the Mermaid. 
 
 COQ. Well, if you must, you must tlien ; Take 
 There ! 
 
 iyShc tuiNs back of head to him as he is about to kiss i 
 Wliat (lid it taste of eh Sir ? 
 G. King. Hay ? No : //(,| 
 
 COQ. Of course ! It's all my own. 
 G. King. Oli, (jame you're makirj 
 
 CoQ. Oh, uot at all, Sir, 1 don't go haij rakiiKj. 
 
 G. King. A kiss I'll have! 
 
 [Buns after her, catches her, and is goiji^ to kiss tur, rJ 
 loud rap is heard at door, ) 
 
 CoQ. Mamuia ! 
 
 G. King. iVl like to choke 
 
 COQ. Dear me ! She's awful with the kitchen j'ok 
 You'd better hide, Sir. 
 
 G. King. 
 
 Where ? (Ruvs f<> cuphoo 
 No, no ! {he runs toivu 
 
 CoQ. 
 barrel.) Not there ! (Iff runs to tal 
 
 I have it ! Here ! pretend to be a chair. 
 
 {She takes cover of chair arid puts it over him icith a 
 
 extended so that, he hoks like a chair.) 
 
 There 1 Now you're safe, you need'nt now be dauntei 
 
 Meet lue to-morrow by the tree that's haunted. 
 
 ( Goes to door, opens it and looks i 
 What ! ti.i one here ? how stianffe ! who can it be ? 
 
Maiden Mona tlw Afeniiaui. 
 
 3« 
 
 len ; Take 
 
 hoiii to kiss I 
 
 erhaps I'd bL'tter go outside aud seu. 
 
 {Goes outsiiie. The " Fairy of the Forest" steps in and 
 closes door.) 
 
 Fairy. Ali, Coquettina! oli, you nauglity child ! 
 ? No ' //(iB" ^pite of all I've said, you %mU be wild. 
 
 11 right, Miss, I have such a rod in pickle I 
 lit tirst these gentlemen in liere I'll tickle 
 
 {Blo7c<s out candle. IStage darkens. She goes to 
 cupboard and raps gently, then to barrel^ then to table, 
 then to chair ^ and steps to back of stage. All four come 
 out and grope in the dark, avoiding each other. They 
 speak in whispers.) 
 
 Gen. B. Here, Coquettina I 
 
 ('APT. T. • Deawest: 
 
 Rooster. Where are vou ? 
 
 ^2/ 
 
 ^ou'n^ niakii 
 
 > to kiss h'/; Ti 
 
 .c to choke 1 
 kitchen pok 
 
 |7s {(> cuphooi 
 ,r ni IIS to'Wo\ 
 
 runs to tal 
 
 [cr him wit I I <'| 
 
 he dauntei| 
 lunted. 
 // and looks \ 
 in it be'^ 
 
 KiNu. Come to my arn)s, my Coquettina, do 1 
 
 {They all get into a circle in front of stage, each holding a 
 hand of the other. The j airy laughs, claps her hands, 
 and fairies enter with lanterns hung at the end of their 
 wands. Stage light.-< up. Quick curtain. ) 
 
 
 ? 
 
IT 
 
 «% 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 rni: forest dell 
 
 Hiiunted tree C. at back. A large rock at R. of tree, 
 wJiiih NooDLic is seated. 
 
 Noodle, (Sueezing.) 
 I've got a frightful cold. My M's and B's 
 Are all mixed up, likewise my L's and D's. 
 That Gnome King there. Oh, isn't he a beauty ! 
 Because, he said, I ran away from duty. 
 Fixed me by some enchantment to this stone, 
 And here he's left me ever since, alone. 
 
 (lakes bottle from pocket.) 
 
 Strolling the other day upon the sand, I 
 Found this. B. R. A. N. D. Y. spells brandy. 
 It isn't bad, though how did it come here ? 
 There's been a shijjwreck, that is very clear. 
 The country's full of geese, too, it's absurd ! 
 Wliich ever way [ turned I found a bird. 
 All dressed in sailor s jackets, caps and tilings, 
 With spy glasses stuck underneath their wings. 
 
Maiden Mona (he Mermaid. 
 
 33 
 
 '. oftrer. 
 
 ty 
 
 \^y 
 
 cs, 
 
 igs. 
 
 {Enter Mona L. rufiiiifh^.) 
 
 MoNA. There, I've escaped them ! Now to find the shore, 
 iluii't think tliey will catch iii'' any more. 
 
 {Moirx to7vard tree.) 
 
 |t nmst be this way, I can scent the sea. 
 ji ! Who are you, sir, under that old tree. 
 
 Noo. Don't be afraid, fair maid, \ cannot harm you; 
 Ihied to this stone these tonas need not alarm you. 
 ^^^ J can't get up iiries to rise.) 
 
 Mona. Why not ? 
 
 Noo The Gnome has tied me. 
 
 Mona. You have a story. Tell me. 
 
 Noo. Sit beside me. 
 
 (Mona sits on rock other side of tree.) 
 mg years ago 1 was a boy. 
 
 Mona. How strange ! 
 
 iXoo. A little tiny boy, so high. 
 Mona. A change 1 
 
 |Noo. I had an uncle, and I vjas a prince, 
 father died. He seized the throne. 
 
 (Mona starts,) You wince. 
 
 Mona. Oh not at all. Go on ! I've heard a tale. 
 :e your's before. It's very like a whale. 
 
 S\)0. My tail ! there's more behind. He then seized 
 
 me 
 c 
 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 If 
 
 34 
 
 Afaidcit Mona the Mermaid. 
 
 51'' 
 
 \\ I 
 
 And shippfd mo ofi", a little boy, to sea. 
 For man}' yeai-s I've wandered as a sailor, 
 And earned my salt as cook on board a whaler. 
 Shipwrecked upon this most unkindly shore, 
 I've lived a wretched life ten years or more. 
 The manikins who live down there below, 
 Took me, and made me giant in a show : 
 " Walk up ! walk up ! just going to begin." 
 
 {imitates S/ioivman ) 
 
 That's what they used to say to bring folks in — 
 " This giant is all real, no sawdust here !" 
 
 MONA. Made you a giant, did they. That was quei 
 
 Noo. " There's no deception, gents ! no pads or straw 
 And then they'd [)inch my legs to make me roar. 
 Stick pins into my calves. 
 
 Mona. Oh, that was crue 
 
 Noo. And if I would't act they'd stop my gruel. 
 Well, now I've joined the army, serve the nation. 
 That means long drills, stiff collars and starvation. 
 I'll make a raft or boat, and get away, 
 So sure as my name's Noodle, miss, some day. 
 
 Mona. What name ? 
 
 Noo. , Why, Noodle, 
 
 Mona. Noodle ? 
 
 N(jo. Why not Noodl 
 
 Mona. You have a lirother ? 
 
 V 
 
whaler. 
 
 ihore, 
 
 lore. 
 
 )W, 
 
 r • 
 
 n. 
 
 /unvvian ) 
 
 oiks in — 
 
 That was quee 
 
 10 pads or straw 
 e me roar. 
 
 ii, that was criu 
 
 )p my gruel. 
 Ihe nation, 
 [starvation. 
 
 day. 
 
 Mdi'liii MoihJ (h: Mermaid. 35 
 
 Noo. Which his nauic is Doodle. 
 
 ' {Trifs to rise.) 
 
 ay, have you seen him ? Is iny bi'other here ? 
 MoNA. He is. 
 
 Noo. - And I can't leave my stony 'cheer! 
 
 MoNA. I'll go and seek hiin. {Exit It) • 
 
 Noo. Stay! She's gone. What joy! 
 
 havn't seen my brother since a boy. 
 
 {Enter DooDLK hurriedly, L.) 
 
 DooDLK. Tvc lost my mermaid ! (/b'ecs Noodle.) Ha ! 
 Pray who are you ? 
 
 Noo. {As'ide^ Is this my brother ? Is your name, 
 Sir, Doo— ? 
 
 [)oo. It's Noodle ! (/s going to rush iowanLs hhn, 
 
 hut stops short s\i< lite Illy.) 
 
 Come though, this won't do I say, 
 e must'nt take things in this easy way. 
 though perchance we may have liad the same aunt, 
 ere may perhaps, Sir, be another " Claimant." 
 like to ask a <piestion. 
 
 S'oo. Ask a dozen. 
 
 lodle ? 
 1iy not Noodlt 
 
 >oo. Pray, had your nurse. Sir, in the (luards a 
 '• cousin i " 
 
 ll 
 
 *soo. 'Tis strange, but ti'ue. 
 
3f' 
 
 MaiJni Moiic the Mmiiaiii. 
 
 Ill 1 
 
 ])()(). 'Tis well I Wlicii vou wore ill »!»' 
 You kicked you poor old pa beneath tlie tables ? 
 
 (Noodle '>?oJ.s,) 
 
 Say, did you once, upon your nurse's lap, 
 ^y chance capsize a toaspoonful of pa]) ? . 
 
 Noo. I did ! T did ! Tlie cii'cuinstancc pi'cvjolia, 
 I now recall it. Which her name was Julia. 
 
 Doo. Did you like sugar on your bread and buttjr 
 
 (Noodle nods.) 
 Used you to play at marbles in the gutter ? 
 
 Noo. I must confess it. 
 
 Doo. Now I think u[)on it. 
 
 Had you a bouncing B. cmce in your Bonnet. 
 
 Noo. I had 1 I have ! In fact, as I'm alive, 
 Not one bee cmlv but a perfect hive. 
 
 Doo. Have you on your left arm a strawberry mark i 
 
 Noo. A perfect bed ! You'd see them in the dark. 
 'Tis he I 'tis he ! My feelings I can't smother ; 
 Come to my arms my lengthy long lost brother ! 
 
 (Noodle tries to rise hut cannot.) 
 
 Why don't you rise ? 
 
 Noo. I can't, tlie Gnome King's bound me. 
 I should have died down here if you'd not found me. 
 
 Doo. What's to be done ? (Trunfv of tree opens, m\ 
 discovers the F<iinj of the Forest,) 
 
Mauiiii Motta the Miiiiiaiii. 
 
 37 
 
 ) 
 
 pccuolia, 
 
 Ua. 
 
 ad and butt;r'| 
 
 LK nods.) 
 
 3r? 
 
 c upon it. 
 met. 
 
 alive, 
 
 i-awberry mark] 
 in the dark. 
 )tber ; 
 )r()ther \ 
 
 nd cannot) 
 
 lid me. 
 )t found me. 
 
 tree opens, an 
 
 Fairy. Sprinkle him thrice, sprinkle liim thrice, 
 
 With the water that trickles 
 And trickles and trickles 
 Down from the mountain 
 Ht.re to the fountain. 
 Spriidvle and say, 
 One, two, three and away. 
 One, two, three and away. 
 
 i^Trunkof tree closes again.) 
 
 Doo. Ah, here's the fountain, l(M)k ! 
 
 {Runs oj^\ R., and reiurns until 7i.'ater in the palm of his 
 hand. Throivs it over Noodle.) 
 
 )iie, two, three and away ! (Noodle sprhKjn up. He 
 lirnpK. The brothers embrace.) 
 
 Noo. I'm stiff as that old tree. 
 
 £ titer MoNA R., carrying large gold key. 
 Noma. You've found him, see ! Look here ! I've 
 
 brought this key, 
 j.y to the diamond mountain. Come ! be (piick : 
 ell play that dear old dwarf there such a trick. 
 Doo. We'll build a raft ; with diamonds fill each sack ; 
 kt sail before he knows — 
 
 Noo. And not come back. 
 
 5iit where's your crew ? 
 
 Doo. M}' crow ? Oh there's tlw rub, 
 
 Ihav'nt got a crew to sail a tub. 
 set of geese ! (Trmik of tree oy>f?^s• avd shows Fairy 
 of the Forest.) 
 
I 
 
 • I 
 
 3« 
 
 Afaidcn Moiia tlie Mcniiaui. 
 
 Fairv. ►'>|)rinkle thrico, sjninkle tlirlce. 
 
 And your ijeese, in lialf a trice 
 Will «lis{ii)[M'ar, and on the land, 
 Four and forty sailors stand. 
 {Tnnik of tree closes.) 
 
 l)o'). A friend in nciMl's a friend indeed they say. 
 Madam, we thank you. Come, friends, let's away. 
 
 Noo. Let's to tlic mountain ; there our sacks we'll tiU 
 And get <^ood fortune from a monstrous W . 
 
 {Exeinif, R., Trunk of tree opens. Fairy of the Forei 
 descends., and comes forii'ard. 
 
 Fairy. So far so good. Those captives stirred iml 
 pity, 
 And Maiden M(ma is so good and pretty. 
 1 hate that Gnome ; he is so tough and tarty, (looks oj^ 
 Here's naughty Co([uettina and her party. 
 I'll sprinkle magic water on tlicm all, 
 And where they stand they'll stay until I call. 
 
 {S/w returns into tree, 7uhich closes. Enter L. Coquk 
 TINA hurriedly. She looks back as she enter li.) 
 
 COQ. What fun ! they're coming all together here. 
 
 I'll hide behind this tree. {Ti'wal: opens^ Fairy appea 
 
 and sprlnJdes her. She t^tops instantly.) 
 
 Fairy. You'll not, my deai*. 
 
 (Trunk cl yses. Enter li. and L. KiNC, IIoosth; 
 General Bounce and Capt. Pounce. D 
 ferent entrances. Music soft a nd staccato, 
 they advance to centre, they see each other.) 
 
Alaideu Motia the Afcniiaui. 
 
 39 
 
 lee. 
 
 CM' 
 
 d they say. 
 
 it's away. 
 
 [• sacks we'll till I 
 
 II. 
 
 liry of the ForiA 
 
 ivcs stirred myl 
 
 arty, (looks o/| 
 
 /V. 
 
 I call. 
 
 :ntcr L. CoQUEi 
 
 ;he enter >i.) 
 
 loc^etlier here. 
 |x, Fairy appeai 
 
 itantly.) 
 [ot, my dear, 
 IviNd, IIOOSTK] 
 
 Pounce. 
 //(/ staccato, 
 each other.) 
 
 AiA.. Hallo! 
 
 {Fairy appears ; sprinkles them. They stop sliori 
 and each retains the position of the moment, 
 Lime light. Seoie close f* in nnth caverv, same, 
 as scene 1st, only opening at hack clo.^ed in. 
 Several sailors cross the staye from L. to H., 
 carrying sacks on their Inieks. Nooi^LE aiKi 
 DooDLK bring up the rear, each carrying a 
 sack. Th ey con i c fro nt.) 
 
 Doo. There! That's the last, the raft won't carry moie. 
 And now set sail, and (juit this unkind sliore. 
 Where's Mona? {Enter Mona, R.) 
 
 MoNA. Here. Please, dear, hefore we go, 
 
 11 wish to say good-bye to friends helow. 
 
 Doo, I'm not a fish ! 
 
 Mona. It's done ([uite easily, 
 
 [We'll sink this cavern down below the sea. 
 
 {Enter L. King, Rooster, (tKNehal Boi nci 
 Capt. Pounce, Coquettina.) 
 
 G. King. Mind 3'^our own business, Miss, leave mine 
 
 alone, 
 have a charm will turn you all to stone. 
 
 {Makes passes in the air. Enter L. Fairy.) 
 Fairy. If you're not good you'll get another sprinkle. 
 G. King. I'd rather be a lobster or a winkle. 
 Mona. Then here's your key. Remember, don't be 
 
 cruel. 
 
ii 
 
 i t 
 
 40 
 
 Maiden Afoua ///<• Mermaid. 
 
 No(». And feed your army. Give your giants gruel. 
 
 MoNA. W 
 
 D'ye feel th( 
 
 motion ? 
 
 Well 
 
 e going uo"wn. 
 
 Doo. 
 It's easy as a lift in some hotel. 
 
 {All give a slight jump as though the bottonn hn' 
 been reached) 
 
 MoNA. We're there a ast. Now let the water in. 
 l)tin't be afVuid, you will not wet your skin. 
 
 (Scene at hack and sides gradually opens to .so; 
 music, and, shows the 
 
 Mermaid's Haunt. 
 
 (CoJiALiNA descends in a coral car at back. Mer- 
 maids It and L.) 
 
 OOQUKTTINA. This is my home. Good-bye, deai 
 friends, to-night. 
 And don't foiget your li \Iermaid quite. 
 
 Fairy of the Forest. The bottom of the sea ! It'i 
 like a dream. 
 
 CoQ. You've no society down here. 
 
 Mona. The very cream. 
 
 Co(j. Perhaps it's iced. I'm sure its very chilly. 
 
 Ge.s. Bounce. It's all cold cream, of course, you littl 
 silly! 
 
 Mona. I hope you're all content. 
 
 W 
 
 Hii 
 Oil 
 
 rii 
 
 )U( 
 
 ( 
 -iut 
 
 ( 
 3ut 
 
giants gi'uol. 
 ;lie motion ? 
 
 Well 
 
 the bottom ha 
 
 ;ho water in. 
 in. 
 
 Miiidefi Afuna the Mermaid. 41 
 
 NooDi.K. Well, I (l«»n't know. 
 
 Poor ( ^oquettina here — 
 
 Doodle. Pray, where's her beau ? 
 
 (Coquettina turns to Captain Pounce.) 
 
 Captain P. Ah 1 Wcally sowwy ! Can't bu «lone I fear, 
 When my superior officer is liere. 
 
 {She turns to General Bounce.) 
 
 . _ Gen. B. Well! Hem ! The situation's most unpleasant, 
 / oj^ena to soM ..... , . ^ . 
 
 |niit as tor matrimony ! — not at [)resont. 
 
 11 r friend here will oblige. Come, Rooster, say 1 
 {She turns to Rooster.) 
 
 at back. Mer 
 Jood-bye, do 
 
 ;ho sea ! It'i 
 
 ery cream, 
 ery chilly, 
 urse, you littli 
 
 K()(JSTEK. Too busy, now. Pray call another day. 
 
 Coy. Oh ! \{^vy well ! I'm sure tint I don't care. 
 II join the " Ladies Club." They've no men there ! 
 
 (i. KiN(;. A <j;i)onie's -an homvte for all that. Here's 
 my 'ey. 
 
 '.flats found often down below the (J. 
 [)ne thing 1 know, if once I get above, 
 lo man shall say the Cnonie is cro.ssed in love. 
 
 (lEN. B. A soldier's duty lies in drill and glory, 
 iut as for love, well, that's another story. 
 
 ( "ait. p. Well, weally 1 Take things eii.sy is uiy motto : 
 3ut faney catching shwimps here in a gwotto I 
 
 {Preteiuls to catch Shrhnp s'whnniiiuj fuint.) 
 
I 
 
 
 
 4« 
 
 Afnufftt Mona the Mer»Mui. 
 
 Doddle. (Putting his arm round Mona a nuist. 
 
 Though strange, a mermaid's heart I hold \i 
 hand ! 
 My geese are changed to sailors ; there they stand. 
 We've found the diamond mine — 
 
 Noo. And tilled each sack. 
 
 Doo. And as for uncle {Turniwj up Coat cuffs.) 
 
 Noc). Wait till we get back : 
 
 Mona. Since all things wrong are now at last mad 
 right. 
 We only have to wish you all good-night. 
 
 {Red and green lights.) 
 
 coralina, 
 
 Fairy of the Forest. 
 
 General Bounce. Captain Pounce. 
 
 GnOxMe King. Rooster. 
 
 Mona. Coquettina. 
 
 1 )oodlk. noodli 
 
 Curtain. 
 
art I liold ill I 
 
 ^i^iM, i^m mfim-}im 
 
 itand. 
 
 d each sackj 
 
 t cuffs.) 
 
 ck: 
 
 it last madj 
 
 <^r Ifjc Bim .Sljtimps. 
 
 BV 
 
 F. A. D. 
 
 lights.) 
 
 rNCE. 
 
 )OSTER. 
 iUETTINA. 
 NOODLI 
 
 ■A i^ . WfM 
 
 OTTAWA. 
 
 1S77. 
 

 TO tup: 
 
 CHILDREN or TIJKIll E X (' F L L IC X r [ K S , 
 
 THE EAEL A¥D COUNTESS OF DUFFERIN, 
 
 ■IIIK. 
 
 
 Fon 
 
 ^Vh(j.$c (!i;Uri:9!tm«.« 4futt Wxtf^t $lav|j)i wrtc written, 
 
 THIS MTTLE VOLUMK, 
 JI'itA this «.« soie txcusc for its nonstnsr, 
 
 M 
 
 Affectionately Dedicated. 
 
FIFINE, THE FISHER-MAID. 
 
 DFIAMATI.S IM:I{S0N,T:. 
 
 B, 
 
 JUPITKR. 
 J I NO. 
 
 Mi-.iiii-nv. 
 
 PlUNC K EmEUAID. 
 
 Pkunanlk). 
 
 Sill IiiA.sciBi.E Raps. 
 
 Sir Popinjav Pops. 
 
 PiKI.NR. 
 
 Qi'EKM B^xsI^•A. 
 
 (JlKKN FaIKNCE. 
 
 Phinckss '/.,,r Z(ir. 
 
 Pa<;k. 
 
 Kino ok the Shrimps. 
 
 coiiai.ixa. 
 
 I'EAUI.. 
 AN'KMONE. 
 
 iVVtttftt, 
 
 SCE.VEUY. 
 
 S.E.VE 1st. -Fill lie's C.ttag.'. S<ene 2Nn.- Pahic.. „f .)„|.it.-r 
 
 Cloiidlaiul. 
 
 Scene 3rd.— Fitiue'.s Cottngp. 
 Scene 4Tii.~Sea Beach on tlip, Eiichantp.1 IsIp. 
 
 Scene 5th.— Tlip Grotto and 
 Thk Coral Grove-s 
 
 OK THE 
 
 Enchanted I.si.e. 
 
 rn.stiini<«s of til.' most goi-KcoiLs, the most I.iirlf8f|iu'. 
 Period, no mallt-r. 
 
'i 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 NEW VEAR'8 DAY, 1878. 
 
 Ji'l'itcr Col. thf Hon. K G. P. Littleton. 
 
 Jii'K' <^'ai>tiiii F. Ward, A.D.C. 
 
 M'"»'i"y faiitaiii F. liainilt.m, A.D.C. 
 
 riiiict.' EiiK-rald Huii. Tfr-iici' Blackwood. 
 
 Fernando Mr. Edwird Littleton. 
 
 Sir Irascible Ifaps ...... Mr. Alg.'rnon Littleton. 
 
 .Sir Popinjay Pops Hon. Basil Blackwood. 
 
 Fifine Miss Littl-ton. 
 
 Queen Bes.sina Viseount Clandelxiyc. 
 
 Queen Faiem. i^ady lleltn Blackwood. 
 
 Princx'ssZou /iMi Lady Ileiniione Blackwood. 
 
 Page I 
 
 King of the !Sl.nn.i..s /■ ' ' ' " ""»■ Fredeiick Blackwoo,!. 
 
 '-'•"■''l'"-'* Lady Victoria Blackwuo.L 
 
 Pearl Mi.s« Muriel Steplienson. 
 
 Anemone Miss Susaji Littleton. 
 
'IFINE, THE H ISHER-MAID: 
 
 OR THE Magic Shrimpl 
 
 ;lcton. 
 C. 
 
 SCENE T. 
 
 Fifink'.s CoTTAfjK : Takj five on hearth, hit mini/, set corner 
 wise R. U. E. Door L, small table C: old-fashioned, 
 pcnduluni, Dntrh clock C, at back; shelf 7»*, with Jii;/ 
 and loaj of bread. Fifink discovered sittimj on low 
 sioolbii fire, mendimj nets : she is shabbih/ dressed as a 
 poor fisher yirl. Storm heard outside. Liylits low. 
 
 FlFlNK. 
 
 Y am so sleepy ! {yawns) why, it's iiean'y one! 
 
 ^ I iMU8t sit up until this net is done. 
 
 It'H luird to be so poor. Poor little 1 ! 
 
 I often want to have a real good cry ; 
 
 Hut that's no good. That wont mend nets I fear. 
 
 Fifine, my girl, cheer up! a good time's near. 
 
 {puts elbows on knees, and looks dreamily into the fire.) 
 It would be nice, th'T.gh, it' some kind old fairy 
 Would suddenly appear, so briglit and airy ; 
 
 (staye grows dark). 
 Dressed all in green an<l gold, as fairies locik, 
 With wings of silver, in my picture book. 
 
 (clock strikes One. Clock door opens, and discovers 
 Conilina. Lime Light.) 
 And wave her maiiic wand, ami sav "'Filine!'' 
 CoKAi.iNA. Filine ! 
 
8 
 
 Fijinty the Fisher-maid. 
 
 FiFixii {starting up and seeing fairy.) Good gracious ! 
 VVliut docs all this incuii? 
 It is the fuiry ! Oli, huw very queer ! 
 
 CoKAMNA. Well, what's your wish, Flfinc? The fairy's 
 here. 
 
 FiFiXK. What do I wish? How nice ! What don't I wish ! 
 1 want a fine new hoat, and lots ot fisji, — 
 That 's I'or Fernando — 
 
 CoRALiNA, Who 's Fernando, pray ? 
 
 FiFiXE. Oh, P\rnie/ He 's my lover, so tliey say. 
 And then I want an apron, cap and striti<rs, 
 A pink silk dress, ami — Oh, what silly thin;is! 
 Money, of course, will buy tne clothes like these. 
 I wish to be, oh, very ricli, ma'am, please. 
 
 CoRAUXA. A very silly wish ! All riiilit, my dear, 
 The shrim you'll find, are all enchanted here; 
 They cure bad temper, sell them. 
 FiFiNE. How surprising! 
 
 CouALiNA. You'll make your Ibrtune. 
 FiFiNE. How? 
 
 CoKAi.iXA. By advertising. 
 
 (dock door c?oscs, Fifine runs to clock and opens 
 door. Condi na has disappeared. Fi^finc picks up 
 a pape' Jrom inside.) 
 FiFiNE. Is this a dream? Oh no, I'm wide awake. 
 The I'airy said my (oitune I should make 
 13y selling shrimps, I'm sure I wish I might. 
 
 (looks at paper.) 
 Writing! I wish that I could read and write. 
 
 (rapping heard at door. Fi/int goes to duor. A gust 
 of wind fjlou's it open. sfi>rni heard outside: enter 
 Fernando, followed by Queen Faience and l*rince 
 Emerald, heavily cloaked and shawled.) 
 
melons 
 
 I 
 
 le fairy's 
 1 1 \vi«h ! 
 
 pray ? 
 «av. 
 
 ear. 
 
 isiugJ 
 
 ■ortisin^. 
 nd opens 
 \ picks up 
 
 paper.) 
 
 A gust 
 
 \e : oiier 
 
 Prince 
 
 Fijine, the Fisher-maid. p 
 
 Fkiixando. Fitino, I'm sure, will shelter you to-iiij^ht. 
 
 {to Fifinc) Two .strangers, dear, 
 
 Trixck IvMKu.vi.i). Our boat lias been upset. 
 
 It's very stoiniy — 
 
 QuEKN F.viKNCE. aud we're very wet. 
 
 (Fifine helps Queen off' with her wnipa, and smts 
 
 her at the fire. FeriHindo takes o(f' I'rincc 
 
 EmcraliVs cloak.) 
 
 FiFiNK. Voov thiujfs! I am so sorrv ! 
 
 Qlkkx Failnck. Can we stay? 
 
 FiFiXE. Of course. I woulJ'iit turn a do;' awav. 
 
 Fm very poor; I liav'nt got a bed ; 
 
 But there's the lire, and here's milk and bread. 
 
 ((jets bread and milk from shelf and sets them on table.) 
 
 You're v<'ry welcome. 
 
 QiELX Faiexck. What's your name ? 
 
 FiFiNE. Filine ! 
 
 Qleen Faience. Well, child, you're giving shelter to a 
 queen. 
 
 She'll not forget it. {Queen and Prince sit at table and take 
 
 bread and milk. Fijine and Fernando come down L.) 
 
 Fll INE. 
 
 G 
 
 raeious 
 
 t 
 
 F 
 
 ernie ileal 
 
 .!..•! 
 
 Tlie Fairy's words are ct>ming true, that's clear. 
 Fkknando. What fairy ? 
 Qleen Faience, {cominij down.) Wiuit ! A fairy 
 
 What was she like? 
 
 Tell 
 
 me, chiM 
 
 Pkixce Emerald, {lauyhini).) Pray, wa.s she tame or 
 
 wi 
 
 Id? 
 
 FiFiXE You laugh ! It really was a lairy (jpieen. 
 She stood in there; (points to clock) so lovely; dressed in 
 
 irreen, 
 
 And promised me my wish, 
 Que EX Faifxce. 
 
 You \yiHhed for — ? 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 10 
 
 Fijiiie, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 FiFiNE. Money. 
 
 She said the shriinpH, here, are enchanted — 
 
 Prince Emeuai.p. Funny! 
 
 FiFiNE. They cure bad] temper. 
 
 Prince Emeuald. Ah, the very tliin;:! 
 
 I know ;i dozen (io\vii>_'ers \o hrin>_' — 
 CantankeroiiH a.* erahs. Each tliink.s the other's 
 Temper is like u tinkei's mutlier'.s. 
 I know a score of liUMhaiids, too, whose Hves 
 Are crossed and crumi)U'd hy tempestuous wives. 
 
 Qi'EEX Faience. Ikiiuw uiuin(h*etl wives whodaily bhinie 
 The day that ma<le thon-i " better halves" — in name. 
 
 Prince Emerald. Eacii one is sure to send the other here 
 To **'cure his temper." {laughs) Oh, you need'nt tear. 
 Your fortune's made. 
 
 Fkrnanho. Our Ibrtune's nuide indeed ! 
 
 FiFiNE. Siie left some writinj,', but I cannot read. 
 Fermmdo, here, {tjivcii paper) . 
 
 Fernando. Oh, I can read it — 
 
 (fiirufi papers round in a puzzled way.) nearly. 
 
 Prince Emerald. Sup})0sc I try. 
 
 FiKiKE. What, can you read, SirV (henods.) Ueallv ! 
 . Prince Emerald. (Heada :) 
 
 The Magic Shrimp. 
 
 The ma,Ldc shrimp 
 
 Will cure the dum])s, 
 Bad temper too. 
 
 And also mumps ; 
 Restore the hair, 
 
 And ;rive repose ; 
 Remove the freckles 
 
 From your nose : 
 
 It makes the very 
 
 Best of blacking. 
 And keeps your boots 
 
 From ever cracking; 
 It's uiioud f<.r sauce 
 
 With fish or meat; 
 It's good for starch : 
 
 The soap 's a treat : 
 
Flfine^ tlie FisJier-maid, 
 
 11 
 
 Money. 
 Funny ! 
 thing! 
 
 daily bljuiic 
 name. 
 
 le other hero 
 tUnt fear. 
 
 iiiileed ! 
 read. 
 
 cad it — 
 vay.) nearly. 
 
 f*-.) Really! 
 
 •cry 
 :1<ing, 
 ur ho<>f?= 
 ■racking; 
 auce 
 
 meat; 
 tareh : 
 a treat : 
 
 It's good to polinh 
 
 Legs of chairs; 
 For ilyeiiig, and 
 
 Itenioving hairs: 
 It makes a splendid 
 
 Brilliant ink ; 
 Also a cooling 
 
 Summer drink : 
 It's good for gout 
 
 Or broken legs ; 
 For toothpaste, or 
 
 Preserving eggs ; 
 
 It's good to clean'your 
 
 Bit or stirrup: 
 It'makes a charming 
 
 Soothing syrup ; 
 It's good in tea 
 
 Instead of milk ; 
 It's excellent 
 
 For dyeing silk : 
 It's unsurpassed 
 
 For mending china; 
 For toothache too 
 
 There's nothing finer: 
 
 Now if you've never 
 
 Tried it — try it; 
 And if you've never' 
 
 Bought it — Buy it. 
 
 QuKKN Faienck. V/cll, come, Fiflne, it shrimps will cure 
 
 a passion — 
 Prixce Emeiui.d. And dye white hairs — (lauijU.^.) 
 Qtekx Faience. You'll soon liecomc the lashion. 
 
 You'd better set to work at once. Make haste 
 And manufacture this — {lauijhs) sui>erb shrimp ])aste. 
 Prince Emerald. Whatever else you do, now, if you're 
 wise, 
 You'll first of all take care to advertise. 
 FiFiXE. That's what the fairy said ! What's advertising? 
 Prince Emerald. You (lon't know that! It's really 
 most surprising ! 
 Look here! If Jones invents — a pill, we'll say. 
 He wants to sell a lot to make it pay. 
 
 First step to fame, 
 He gets a name, 
 To sav his Pills 
 
 Will cure all ills. 
 Through every town 
 He sticks this down. 
 

 FIfmei ihfi Fisher-maid. 
 
 Rolow your foes, 
 lU'fiiro your uosp, 
 On every wjill, 
 Tn every Hall, 
 III roa<l or xtreet, 
 You always meet — 
 "Try Jones' Pi Up, 
 That cure all ills!" 
 In lioat'j ainl trains. 
 
 Walloons or drains. 
 On eollin litis 
 In I'yraniitjs, 
 You see it still — 
 " Try .Ion<s* IMl 1" 
 VVliere'ere you go, 
 You can't say no, 
 Before von thrust, 
 You feel v«tu iiiu-'t, — 
 
 You ouf^ht to— try it, 
 And then — you hny it. 
 (all Imufh.) 
 QiMEX Faiknck. Well now, Filine, you know Just what 
 to do; 
 You'll make your fortune, and we'll help you, too. 
 We'll call this Saratarirate . That's the uanie 
 Will hand " Filine the Fisherniaid " to fame. 
 
 (Tdhlt'oti. Queen Faience C. Fifinc kneelinr/, kis.'iinff 
 /lei' haii'I. Prince Emerald and Fernando 11. A- L. 
 Drop Curtain.) 
 
 i 
 
 i! 
 
SCENE n. 
 
 Tervarc in the Palace of Jupiter in Clondland, sky at 
 back, step.<t centre of teirace. Breakfast table set L. 
 2 E. and two scats : handkerchief lying on ground up 
 R. Mercury enters L. carrying plate of muffins, he 
 sets it on table. 
 
 Mkkciky. Master not down, and niissns late, of course ! 
 It's well for luT the mare 'h the better liorse. 
 
 {takex a piece of muffin.) 
 If there 'n one tliinj^ that Jupiter does hate, 
 It if* for breakfast bcini; \\v,n\c to wait. 
 But Juno's worse than ho. T must i^ive warnint^. 
 
 {takes another piece of muffin.) 
 She even boxed my ears the other morninir; 
 She called ine names too, rascal, knave and thief, 
 Ik-cause I took her pockethandkercijief. 
 My finirers must, I think, be hung on spring-, 
 Someh<.)\v, F can't resist these little things. 
 
 {sees handerchief on ground.) 
 Why, there's another! now that's very droll! 
 My lingers turn like needles to the pole. 
 I can't resist. 
 
 {pick.'i up handkerchief and put. 'i it in his top boot.) 
 I'll hide it in my boot. 
 There, that's all right ! and now for a cheroot. 
 
 {takes cigar ca.fe Ji'om table, and lights cigar, sits on 
 one seat, and puts his feet on the other.) 
 They call me. Mercury, of thieves the patron. 
 When I'm as innocent as any matron ; 
 
u 
 
 Fljine, tht Fisher-inaid. 
 
 Ami as fur all tliopo little tritlinjr Hli|)H, 
 I'vo kh'ptonmiiia in my fin;:cr tips. 
 
 (cran/i (iikI loud ijiowliioj heard at back It. }f<;rnin/ 
 .starts up and looks out at back It. Enter Jupiter 
 
 L. 2 /;.) 
 
 JriMTKK. Now then, what's all tliis noise? 
 
 MKKcriiY. Oil, Sir, look there! 
 
 The Scorpion has stun<r the Little Bear ! 
 
 .IriMTKit. Feteh me a thiiiiilerlMtlt, be fpiick ! a win^rer, 
 
 {exit Mercnnj L.) 
 I'll ,!.'ive that Scori)i<')n a jolly ntiti^rer. 
 
 (enter Menury L. with thunderbolt^ Jupiter hurls it 
 o(f' li. 2 I'j. Crash heard and (jrnwls.) 
 We'll nee if we can't stop these little cu])erfl. 
 
 (to Mercurj/), 
 Now then, be otl', and (etch the mornin;.' pai)crs. 
 
 (exit Mercury L.) 
 Here's half-past ten, anil Juno not down yet, 
 (Calls.) Juno! The breakfast 's ready! 
 Juno, (o/f It.) Coniin^r, pet! 
 
 Ji'iMTER. Coming'! Why don't you come ! The littlcsilly ! 
 The cotl'ee — hem ! — I siiould say, nectar's chilly ; 
 1'he ham and efr^r.s — and»rosia, that is — coUi; 
 The very water cresn in growing oUl: 
 The omlette 's toujrh, to cut it wants a spade; 
 The tlies have ealiii up the marmalade. 
 Juno, (c(dls) make haste ! It's really most annoyinir. 
 'l\vo hours she 's been, four ladies' maids emi»luying. 
 It's all her hair; they dress it, brusli it, match it ; 
 It takes as lon^r as if she'd tirst to catch it. 
 Thimbles and thunderbolts ! By Jove, I'm starvin<r! 
 I'll wait no lonj/er, I must do some -arving. 
 
 (.sits at table and be' enter Juno, It. Jupiter 
 
 takes no noUt , (. 
 
 
Morn)'!/ 
 fcr Jitjiiler 
 
 k tlicre ! 
 
 a ^vm;rel•, 
 try L.) 
 
 ler hnvls it 
 
 nrif L.) 
 
 iiij-', pot! 
 littU'.sillv ! 
 
 (\vin,Lr 
 
 ymg. 
 
 •inir ! 
 
 R. Jupiter 
 
 
 Fijine, the Flsher-vmid. 
 
 IS 
 
 Mv 
 
 Ji'N'o. (roftxingh/). .flippy! Flo won't look up. 
 
 • larliiiL' -'"ppy • 
 JriMTKU. VV«'1I, ininliiMi, iirc vou cullin;: lor yuur puppy? 
 
 I'm not a doir. (^Men'my entevH irilk jxijteis.) 
 Mkiicury. My jroodness, hen's a ;:o ! (Krit L.) 
 JiiMTKii. Yoii'rc lute. (Juno sifft R. of table and poura 
 
 uut colf'ec.) 
 JiNo. Your watcli is IUmiI 
 
 Jri'iTKK. 'J'hcu yjuirn in slow ! 
 
 The coH'ci-'h cold ; yuu know I iiiiti' it so. 
 
 Jrxo. You're cross ft«rain — why are you always nav'L'in^? 
 
 JuiMTKii. Why are you always late? for ever lau'iring. 
 
 Ji'No. A wotnan cannot dress, sir, in a niinuit, 
 
 JriMTKR. I wish you'd Imy a sack, and just jump in it. 
 
 Ji'No. So like a man, that is ! A sack ! Good lack ! 
 No (loid)t you'd like to see jne in a sack ! 
 Perhaps (sobs) you'd rather see me in n)y cotlin, (rries.) 
 
 JfiMTKK. What ! Water works a^'ain ! 
 JiNo. Yoti're always scofKn' 
 
 Because (sob.s) your poor wife dresses all to ph-ase you. 
 
 JriMTKR. Oh iKjther, Ju, I said it just to tease you. 
 
 (Juno taken up paper and recuh^ turning her back to 
 table.) 
 Oil, if you wish to sulk, pray stilk, my dear! 
 
 {Jupiter takes up 2^^P^^' ^""' reads, turninef his hark 
 also to table.) 
 Jrxo. How odd! The very thing! do listen here (read.<t.) 
 " A rcMiarkulile discovery has heen iiKule at an island 
 called Saratargate, somewhere in China. The shrimps of 
 this place cure had temper.'' There ! " Sulks." 
 
 Ji'PiTER. There ! 
 
 !1 
 
le 
 
 Fi/tue, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 Jfvo. "And ^xniinpiju'SH. An irascible, ^.Tumpy, 
 |)e|>I'«'ry oM party, had disinherited his nix sons and 
 twenty dannhters lor wearing hoh-iiailed lioots. In a fit of 
 an^r^T lie retired to this spot, and lived nj)on shrimps (or 
 three weeks. On his return, he f(»rij;avc his six sons and 
 twenty dan::hters, and Itonurhl !i pair of hoh-nai!ed hoot.^ 
 lur liiin«e!f. He now smiles all day lonji." 
 I wish that youM eat shriini)S. 
 
 Jl'imtkr. D'ye mean to fay 
 
 My tt-mpcr '9 l«ad? 
 
 Ji\o. ('i.tide, dr\fhj) I've seen a Itetter. 
 
 .lllMTIiK. Kli ! 
 
 .FiNo (meeJify). Notliinjr, my love. 
 
 JiJMTKK. N'lithinj;! That's like your sex. 
 
 Ii'h always *' nothiii'r!" when tlicy want to vex. 
 
 (turns to neii'S'j}oper.) 
 
 Il:i! hum! A stran<.re coincidence indeed ! 
 
 I've UmuuI 8«.»nje nM»re «hrimps' tales, dear. Shall I road? 
 (rttul.<i . ) 
 
 " A mo-t a<r;rravatin<; woman, witli a ten»per like a 
 razor, who had worn her })i»«)r husl)and int«» a curl paper, 
 ha~ just rtMuriied from I'atini^ the famous Saratarirate 
 shrimps, whicli cure had temper; hers is so much 
 improved that she now U'^es her little linger to sweeten the 
 faiiiiiy tea, and her husband is growing too fat to tie his 
 own phoe-strings. 
 
 (cntn' Mernirj/ with htter, hf rfiveft it to Juno, and 
 exit L ) 
 
 Jvso (comioi/ doiftn.) More news from Saratargate : jtist 
 look here, (ftynls.) 
 
 ** Tn'mendoiis excitement. All the world going to 
 
 Saratargate; Pteamersevery ten minntes fiom every where. 
 
 Return tioketf* ha)f-a-crown.'' 
 
 Oh, Jiippy, let u.^ go. 
 
Fljine, the Fisher-maUL 
 
 17 
 
 rmnpy, 
 IIS ami 
 1 a fit «»t 
 iiip-^ (or 
 aiis su><l 
 •tl boot.i 
 
 m to ?»av 
 
 Ell! 
 
 our >ex. 
 
 1 I roa.l ? 
 
 like a 
 
 I paper, 
 
 rat ar irate 
 
 o much 
 
 eten thi* 
 
 tie liij* 
 
 f/io, and 
 
 ate: juft 
 
 j^oini; to 
 rv where. 
 
 JlTiTKn. I eaii't allonl it. 
 
 Timc< are Um^ havil. Xo iiiouev. 
 .FfNo. Uh, \u\\ huani it. 
 
 JrPlTKR. ThiiiU <>r the tjrcr^sos, Imhiiu'Is, gloves — all new. 
 Ji'N'o, Cijjjar-' ati'l l)illiar«l^, play< and ^lupperw too. 
 Ji'i'iTKU. 1 can't atlbnl — 
 Jrxo. YoiiM cure your wile — perliap'«. 
 
 JiiMTKR. [ can't — {she sfop.-i his mmith). Well.ilu-re; 
 pack up your trap<. 
 (Calltf.) Heri" Mercury! (enter Mcrcun/ A), Say, 
 what's the earliest train? 
 Merci-ry. Where to, Sir? 
 .hi'iTEK. Earth. 
 
 MKRcrRY. Will, there's tlie " Charles' Wain." 
 
 .TfNo. Oil, that's po slow. 
 
 .IriMTKR. Here, teteh the railwav miiile. 
 
 {Mercury brim/s ritiUratj guide.) 
 If I can fuiil the place, we'll soon <leci<le ; 
 Till' " ('cniet " passc^i hy at twelve o'clock. 
 
 (Ijoohs at U'dfc/i.) 
 Make L.iste; you hav'nt time to cliaji;:e your fri»ck. 
 
 {Juno rini.s off li.) 
 Ten minutes for refreshment at the Lion. 
 
 marked 
 
 {Drags J, 
 
 fi 
 
 If carpet Inv/, 
 
 " Thunderboltsr) 
 
 This haj^ of tliumlerlKilts yiju'll keep your eye on. 
 
 {Exit L.) 
 .Mercirv {sits at tahle and fwljis /liinself to tn/f'cv, etc.) 
 I've lui'l no lircaktiist yet. Can't call it .-tullin, 
 With ninety miirum mile< upon a mutlin. 
 This con\es of servinj; such a rapid master: 
 The " Comet's" fast, but I <hall he a faster. 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 18 
 
 Fijiiie, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 <■ 
 
 I 
 
 (Ife iftjusf goinff to eat when Jupiter enlersi L, Mnninj 
 starts up and leares his plate with reijretj'ul looks. 
 Jupiter carries very diminutive purlmanteau.) 
 
 Jl'pitkii, Tooth brush, clean collar, liaiulkcrchiof, all 
 
 right I 
 
 J rpiTE II (ca/As). Juno! come! arn't you ready yet? 
 Juno. Not quite. 
 
 JriMTKR. Here's my portmanteau, mind, Sir, don't you 
 drop it, 
 (Tytud rushing noise heard off Jj. at back.) 
 The "C(tmet's" coming: (juick now, run, and stop it. 
 
 (Mercury ru)is up stage and signals off fj. Jjively 
 music. Half a dozen fiand-ljoxes and a numljer of 
 ttrown paper parcels are thrown on from R, and 
 caught by Jupiter, who pitches them to Mercury , who 
 places them up stage, then Jupiter drags in a huge 
 trunk or two, <ind Juno enters with a big tnindle of 
 wraps, which she gives to Mercury. Rushing noise 
 heard ; the" Comet " appears at hack. The charac- 
 ters dame a '* ftreak-down " and *' walk round," and 
 at the end form taldmu. Juno in centre; Jupiter 
 and Mercury on either side. IScene closes in. 
 
 i 
 
'I looks. 
 
 ■) 
 
 hief, all 
 
 et? 
 
 ot quite. 
 
 oii't von 
 
 p it. 
 
 Lively 
 
 itmber of 
 
 11. and 
 
 nri/, who 
 
 a a liiii/e 
 
 lundle of 
 
 11/ noise 
 
 rharac' 
 
 (/," and 
 
 Jnpiler 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Fifine^s CoUaije ; in 1st. Groove.'!. Enter Fifine L. 
 
 FiFiN'K. {laughing.) What Inn! The fairy '-^ uorLs have 
 all conie true ! 
 My (hirlitij^ ^(xliuotiior, it's all thrtiti<;li you ! 
 We're j;etting, oh, so rich ! it can't he toM, 
 I've stnfted my Htockings, every one, with goM, 
 And now we're tilling -iackn, and any thing. 
 1 au) so hajipy, I could dance and sing. 
 {Sini/.i.) 
 
 SoK<i . — 
 
 {During the last bars of the .song Fernaiulo has entered, 
 R. he comes behind her, and as shefinishesy he puts 
 /i/.v arm round her waist and kisses her.) 
 Fkunaxdo. Ah, sweet Filine, what, singing, little bird I 
 FiKixK. (irith a/f'ccfation of indignation.) 
 How dare you, sir, eh? well, U|H3n my word ! 
 
 (with a swlden change oj manner, putting her hands 
 clasped on his shoulder.) 
 Oh, Fernie! Is'nt it delightful having riches I 
 It's nicer far than making nets. 
 Fkrnaxdo. Or stiches. 
 
 FiKiXK. Or going o>it all night for one poor sprat. 
 FKRNANno. I've often fished all night for less than that. 
 But il»^ you know, Fifine, {puts arm round her waist.) 
 
 I wish you'd stop it; 
 Let's give up money-niaking ; come now, drop it. 
 We've »|uite enough (u live like lords ami ladies. 
 No Queen is iiall so dear as my sweet maid i--. {kissea her.) 
 Let'd run away to-morrow. 
 
fiO 
 
 Fijine, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 FiFiXK. Oh, what stuff 
 
 Wliy, Foriiie, dear, we huv'iit half enough. 
 J want ten carria^i's uiul horsi>?i grautl ; 
 To Itc the liiicst hidy in the Ifui'l; 
 With powtk-red loutmen, diamonds and rin<;s, 
 Silk dresses, velvet trains and other tilings, 
 Such ducks ol bonnets, shawls and laces new. 
 
 Fkrxando. And l? 
 
 FiFixK. Oh, you shall have fine dresses too, 
 
 Ami then an opera hox in every city. 
 
 Fkiixando. {ironically.) You'll use them all at once? 
 FiFiXK. You're very witty. 
 
 Tiien in the park I'll drive, or walk, {iiudkn up and down 
 slmje ininciinjli/, an thoiKjli inamnjiuii Ioikj train.) 
 
 like this. 
 Fkrxando. You look 'y\A like a silly peacock, Miss. 
 FiKixt. A |x'acock, Sir! I'm sure you're most polite. 
 Don't marry, pray, a peacock. Sir. 
 
 Fkrnaxuo. YLMi're right. 
 
 Fil rather ilrown myselfat once, I would, now, tliere! 
 
 FiKiNK. {bc<jinin<i to cry.) I'm sure, you're so unkiml ; 
 
 I shoulil'nt care. 
 (En far Coralina L. disyuidcd as an oil woman, with a 
 
 Int.sket.) 
 CoHALiNA. You'd Itetter take some shrimps, you naughty 
 
 pair. 
 {Given .shrimp.'^ to each, and exit L., (juickhj, they hcyin 
 
 to peal than in silence ; finally they eat them, 
 
 .s mi liny.) 
 FiFiNK. Dear Fernie, did wi- tjuarrel '.' II«)W absurd ? 
 
 Fkunaxuo. {kissiny /icr.) I couldnt fiuarrel with my 
 little hird. 
 
es.^ee too, 
 
 t once? 
 
 md (In IV a 
 f train.) 
 
 Fijine, the FUher-viaid. 
 
 21 
 
 Oh, by the way, d'ye like n.v ne.v (li..rni.e' 
 
 iietche, cloak and beard Jro,n R ^^nUs ikan on ) 
 l^iKiNK^O^^,/,^ ha^uU), IV, caj.i.a, I You I..,k so very 
 
 Queen Be.^sie ('omes to-,hvy. ^''• 
 
 FlFINK. ... 
 
 ti . , Oh, yen, I know. 
 
 Hit tein])er 's awful. 
 
 Fkrxando. i. 
 
 ., , ' ^'f" «i "poech to make. 
 
 1-iKixE. Amirvoalutofpiesa,.,|lM-c.ul,oKHke 
 {hxcunt L and A'. 
 
 Miss. 
 )ulite. 
 
 ere ! 
 uiikiml ; 
 
 I J with a 
 
 nauglity 
 
 icy bc(/in 
 at titan, 
 
 unl? 
 ivitli my 
 
I! 
 
 SCENl-: IV. 
 
 Batch awl .sea roa.sf of the Knclianli'il hie. Fifine\s 
 coiiaije L. r. E., boat drawn up It. 2 E. Ihihimj 
 house R. U. E. with placard, *• litithiitij House. To 
 Let. Five Pounds a uiijht.'''' A board, '• The ti<juil) 
 and Cracker Gardens," another with hand " This 
 way to the Grotto,'' another outside cottage, ♦' Tea 
 and shrimps ninepence.'' Rustic table and chairs 
 L. 2. /;. 
 
 (Prince Emerald discovered on Inink sleepinc) ; a fish- 
 iny rod hangs out over water. Fifinc enters from 
 cottage.) 
 FiFiXK. All! Fjvft asleep! Tlie Prince, here, calls this 
 
 iisliiiig. 
 All ri;j:ht, my Prince, if li.-lie8 y»ju nre wi-hing, 
 I'll give you one. {Ituns into cottage, and returns with red 
 herring which .^hejastens to hook.) 
 
 It won't (lu any n;i|)j)ing. 
 There now. That*.'* right, (hides behind wing R. I. E 
 
 Prince wakes, rubbing hiseges) 
 Pkinck E.MKU.M.i). Come in ! Why, I've beeti napping. 
 
 (Takes up fishing rod.) 
 I've caught a tish at la.^^t. It\s very red. 
 The smell's i)eculiar. Why, the creature '.>^ deatl ! 
 It'j< very strange! I can't have slept a week, 
 
 (Fifine .^mothers a lauyh) 
 Ah I Ah ! I Hee ; a ease of liiiie ami seek. 
 
 (goes off at R. 2. E. and conies behind Fifinc, she runs 
 across stage to L. 1 E. he Jollowing ,andon at L. 2 E. 
 he catches her) 
 
Fijiiie, the Fishcr-inaid, 
 
 B8 
 
 Fifine's 
 Hathimj 
 louse. To 
 The S({iiih 
 ^id " This 
 lye, *' Tea 
 ind chairs 
 
 ig ; a fi.'^h- 
 inter s from 
 
 ?, call- this 
 
 rns with red 
 y li. I. i^ 
 
 hii\ she runs 
 oil at L. '"i J'^' 
 
 Filino. vnii rdirut', voiril have to iiuv lor tliis. 
 
 l''iKiNK. All, let mo ;;() I 
 
 PlUNCK K.MKKAI.I). Xoltill f 'vc ;r">t a ki."? . 
 
 FiFiNK. 'riiore'a sonic cMtinin:.', Ut hm- l'o, nnw, (piicU. 
 (v/// iitiis airai/ into rolfdtfr) 
 
 I'm -uro that .somcoiit' 1 sIiomM like to kick, (exit /?.) 
 
 Knier L. 1. E. Sir FRAsriiir,!: Kaps, rtn'ri/int/ a tmok and 
 an nmtniihiy the rifts of v/iirh are roreieii irifh f>lne 
 muslin to n'2>resent blue ylass : he <:om€s front — simjs. 
 
 Hu'K Gr.Ass. 
 
 Air "Tlic(}alIoi)iii.rSnol)/' 
 
 Slit Trascium:. 
 
 Tlicv cull me Ira-^ciMi' Kiip«, Sir Hnp<, 
 
 Jruscihle Kii|tH, Irascilijc Rapf, 
 I'm tree to confess tliat iiorluvps, perhaps 
 I'm one ol' the peppery chaps, 
 (lout in all my toes ; 
 Nohoily here knows 
 How hard the liirht to he polite, 
 With gout in all \()Mi- tender toe.s. 
 
 My medical man ha- (jrd«'red I'lne ;_da>.'', 
 
 Ordercij hjue irla.ss, ordered liiiie jrlass; 
 And thouL'h ynti may think that the man is an a.<?s, 
 There's nothiiiir like hliie irlas."? : 
 'J'emper 's ail serene, 
 App<'tite 's not mean, 
 I'll speinl my life, withuul a wife, 
 As I on L' as I <ret this line hlne j^las.-*. 
 
 (Knf'T Jt. 1 E. .SV/- EnpinJ((i/ Pojj.s- with a tclcscnpe.) 
 TlnTc'- thai cnntouinled dcjiikey Popinjay. 
 1 hate that I'ellt.wl (;/oes up ]j., sticlcs ///.s' undn'ctla into 
 the (jround, and lies down on bank, readiny.) 
 
^4 
 
 F I fine, l/(^ Fiahcr-nia'uL 
 
 Siu Popinjay. Haps attain lo-ilay. 
 
 Olil idint, Willi lii^ pint, nml llial Miu' ^^Iuhp, 
 
 Sim liatlis and stnll! I halo to .<ct' tlu' ass. 
 
 {(jncs up A', and ie<iii.s andiimt tree, luohiiKj t/irotKj/i 
 Iclcscoitc ((( .sen.) 
 
 Sir IiiAsciHi.i:. Ah usual, Sir, you're keo|iin.<r oil' in^'sjin. 
 Siu P»)iMNMAY. ]{'-* mine as mncli as yours, (aside) I'll 
 have somt' luu. 
 
 Sii; luAsciuLK. 'J'o cure my malai.Iy, tlie ;rout, it's true. 
 My (loetoi- put- mo under Lrla<s that'.- Iilue; 
 I pay for simshinc, and Til have it too. 
 
 Siu PoriN.iAV. Vuur malady indeed ! we knuw the sort, 
 
 It's made hy mixin;: turtle soup anil port. 
 
 Siu ruA<('ii!i.i;. When i/on were made, a peacock. Sir, 
 wa-: spoileil. 
 
 Siu Pon.N.iAV. You pot>r <jld ve«retalile, why ai'nt you 
 hoi led ? 
 Don't say you've run to -eed. That can't be done. 
 
 You may he serdy, itut you'll nevi-r run. 
 Sir Ira.scmu.k. (romt'iif/ doinij'ront L.) 
 
 IJeware, Sir, pray Ix-ware ! Pm mild a.s — 
 Siu PoiMNMAY {scnffiiKjhj.) milk? 
 
 Siu luAsciiu.K. My temper 's sweet as sugar, aol't as — 
 Siu Popinjav. silk. 
 
 Siu Irasciui.k. J^il milk turns sour, su;:^ar too ^rows — 
 Siu PoiMN.iAV. acid ? 
 
 Siu luAscim.K. Th' calmest waters are not always — 
 Siu PoiMX.iAY. placiil. 
 
 Siu Ikashiiu.k. I wx'wv w f^woXiXy^'w (puis hand <>ii sword.) 
 Sir Popinjay. Pooh, Sir! likewise, hah ! 
 
 Don't tliiid< of what you were, hut what you are. 
 Siu Ira.sciiili:. Where's my thermometer? (/a/.r.s' rnit 
 
 pocket thermometer, places it under hi.t tonijuCy 
 then examine.^' if.) This is too had. 
 
 Two hundred I On the hoil ! Pm goinjr niad. 
 
Fijine^ UtM Fiahcr-tiuud. 
 
 ^6 
 
 Sill PoiMVJAY (luui/himj). Hoiliiijr with murt! 01. 1 
 
 tfll 
 
 o\y 
 
 ilo 1 
 
 »e ciiiiii 
 
 For my .«:iko, i)ray ; Yuu'll do yourself soino luinii. 
 
 YtniM iM'tler put (;olil water itt your kittle, 
 
 (offers him ///</.v.v o/' icutir.) 
 
 V«)U ponr (»1«1 pninpkin. (Sir hu.scihle (o/ies ijlass ami 
 fhiowa coiitenln over fSir l*<>l>iitjuii .) 
 
 Sill iBAsniu.K, 
 
 That will trv vour mettle 
 
 Sill Pi»piN.iAv. You've (piite unstarclutl my frill, 
 
 SiK Ihascum.k. 
 
 YoM iieed'nt luint, 
 
 AltlKiUj^li I have wuhIkiI oil' an imii ot paint, 
 
 Siu PoiMX.iAY. Paint ! (mlrancis tlueal< ninubj.) 
 
 Sir IiiASciBLfc:. Pumi»kin I (thretitins in return.) 
 
 Sift PoiMN.i.vv. Caulitlower ! (shukimj telescope at /lini.) 
 
 Sill Irascihlk. (.'reature ! (sfiakiu)/ Ji.st.) 
 
 Sir PoiMN.fAY. Tndoetl ! you lia\ 'nt got a decent ti-ature. 
 
 Sir Irasciiu-k. You dressed uj», antiquated, worn out 
 " gent ;" 
 
 A dozen ot* yoti are not worth a cent I 
 
 Sir PoiMN.iAv. You're tar too fat to nee your gouty toes. 
 
 Sir Irascible. For halt-a-crown, you stick, I'd pull 
 your nose. 
 
 Sir PoiMNMAY. A row ot pins wtMild make me punch 
 
 vuur 
 
 head, 
 
 (enfo' Fifini irit/i small basket of shrimys.) 
 
 FiKiXE. Perhaps youM take a magic shrimp instead. 
 
 SiK PoiMN.iAY and Sir Iuascibi.k (speakiny toijclher.) 
 
 A phrimp I w hat for ! 
 
 FiFiXK. Improve your tempjers, sure, 
 
 For all l»ad temper they're- a perfect cure. 
 
 {she i/ices a .shrinij) to each : they take them, (jlariny 
 sacaijily at each other.) 
 
 Now you stand thf re (places Sir Irascible II.) and you 
 
 stand here I (places Sir Popinjay L.) That's right. 
 
 Now wlien you'\e peele<l your shrimps just take a hite. 
 
 U 
 
,?c 
 
 Fi/'iie, thn Fishcr-iaakl. 
 
 Yon mn Tnt ,«av n wnr."!. Tlwy'ro very niro. 
 You'll liiid yoiiruii'^cr vaiii.-'li in a fr!<;c. 
 
 Sill lit \s(Miim:. a shritiip iii'lccl ! I d.-n't iiiiixl i( \ try it. 
 Sill ToiMNJAY. A iim^riu Hliiirnp! well, tluit's a I'uiiny 
 diet. 
 ( Fifinc ijocs from oua fo llu: other.) 
 FiFiNi;. (7o Sir !\ijn'ui<ii/ rt>i>s) — Yoii'it' •j;ottiii;r «>ii. — 
 ( 7'o »V/V Jiaxcihlt' U(i])s) — Tiikc euro now, ilon'i ymi liri-iiU it. 
 Sill I'oiMN.iAV. Miui'V ready. 
 Sill liiAsciiii.fc;. So i< jiiiiio. 
 
 I'li-MNK. Well then, just tal<o it. 
 
 ('/'//ry eitt .s/iriin/t.f. Each /xi/ins to .sinih\ thnj wl- 
 ranre to eiirh other (md shake hnivis, Fifiiu jocs 
 vp.) 
 
 Sir Poi'iN.iAV. What were we qnarrellin;^ ahdut jn-t 
 now? 
 
 Sill IiiA.-ciiti.i:. I poll my word, I eonld'nt .«ay, I vow. 
 It'.s very odd! My lcelin;;s I ean't .smother. 
 Why l*o|ts ! I lo\('y(tu helli-r than a hrother. 
 
 Sill Poi'iNJAV. Dear Kaps! it's strantrc You're very 
 like my mother. 
 You'll take a pinch ot simll'. (offers snufl' hox.) 
 
 Sir Juasciim.k. Who would .suj.pose 
 
 Five minutes hack \ wished to pull your nose! (l<(U(/h.f) 
 
 Siii l'oiMN.iA\. it can"! lie true that I was so illhre.l, 
 dii.sl now, to wish tliat I could punch your head! (/ain/hs.) 
 
 Sni Ikascihik. flive me your arm old huv, we'll "o to 
 
 V, 
 
 town. 
 
 ^•i.!jriikes S!r I'oiH'iiJdt/'s arm, thei/ are [join;/ o/f L. 
 '^pA^/t Fijine eonirs down tjiti'/c/i/.) 
 
 FiFiNK. Kx(>t^ine, Sir. (hohltsouf hawlto Sir Popinjay) 
 
 Sill P01UN.IAV. What thi.-^? {tries (o shake h<uvJs iei)k 
 her.) 
 
 FiFi.vE. (/loldijitj oiif uthcr hand to Sir IrasiUde.) .Iu>t 
 halt-a-ert)wii. 
 
Fi/ine. thfi f iahtir-vuwl . 
 
 tr 
 
 try It. 
 
 I'llIlliV 
 
 ; on. — 
 iTJvk it. 
 
 tjiUo it. 
 
 \i'\j wi- 
 ne (JOVii 
 
 lit ju-l 
 
 I vow. 
 
 re v(M'V 
 
 !".'//'•''■) 
 
 '((iii/hs.) 
 11 .LTO to 
 
 \i>!i>Jiiu) 
 lis trilh 
 
 ) J>l>t 
 
 Stii luAsciin.K. Tlic ilickiiiH ! Iitill-a-crown ! thiit's riUlicr 
 • U'lir ! 
 'I'lic Hliriinps Imvo liail a -trikc, tliiit'-^ vory clear. 
 
 FiFiNK. Tliry wont U' boiled (or Iohh; {tiny ijire mnuty) 
 
 iSiR I'olMXJAY 
 
 The 1 
 
 Now tell nH, quick, 
 
 locuH i>ocnM 
 
 FlFlNK 
 
 Sir? 
 
 H 
 
 SiK fit A SCI III, K 
 Sill PtH'INMAY. 
 
 o\v i.-' It done, t 
 
 The iIimI^C, 
 
 The trick, 
 
 •h? 
 
 FlKIXK, 
 
 Oh ! Thev do, fiir* sav 
 
 II'h jn.xt hecau.Hc their hile'H all hiled away. 
 
 {Sir Irascihle ami Sir I^rjtinjai/ chip llieir htimh fn 
 their Jorchewls and <jo up xhakimj their heads in 
 
 di.syn.st.) 
 
 {che.erin<j hmrd off' L.) 
 
 {Fifine goes up and looks out at sea. Enter L. 1 
 
 an 
 
 d 2 F. Fishermen and ViUaijer 
 
 •irnando 
 
 enters hurriedhj from roftiii/e dis(/uised as Doctur 
 Mulf'o'siostro ; he pushes back crowd to irinys 
 li. and Ij.) 
 
 Fkunando. Stand hack, 
 encroachinj; ! 
 
 *;* 
 
 >()( 
 
 peoi 
 
 lie, don't he 80 
 
 The Queen of all the Doodoo'.'* iH approachiii";. 
 
 Get ready then to cheer, my jolly tars, 
 
 Up with your (!aps, and out with your hurrah^'. 
 
 {N(tnti<-al mnsic, hoat airives at hack, containinff Queen 
 Jiessina, l'rinres,<t Zou Zou and Page, the latfrr 
 rarniimi band-boxes umler earh arm. Th^y disem- 
 
 bark and 
 
 come ilown front, the populace hnrraj/ing. 
 
 Fernando admnce.t with mldress.) 
 Fkknaniio. Most j;;racious Madam, we — {Queen liessina 
 turns aside.) 
 
f^H 
 
 F'ilinf\ th' Fiiih^.r-mfitd. 
 
 QiKKx JJkssina, 
 
 I fcol Bu il 
 
 'I'liiif horri"! Intut, there, uever would ntay ntill. 
 
 Fkiivando (/aciiiif Iwr at/nhi.) M»».st i^raciou." Mii'Iurn — 
 
 Ql i:i:\ Ml.'SlNA, 
 
 It" v«>ii*\«' jrol it handy 
 
 I thitik IM lil<(> a little i|t-M|) nt luandy. 
 
 {Fifine briiKjs bottle I'miu roffinff ; Queen Bifmitid 
 (^rinfci, (til Ihc charartei's ntunil in line, nimjing 
 the JoUmrinijs and (Idneinn " The Cure.'') 
 (Ml dear ! oh dear ! 
 1 lee! 
 
 Ai.i, 
 
 ( I leei ) 
 tShe (eelsf 
 
 hhe (eels ) * 
 I leel 
 
 {shMeelH}^^''^'''''''''>*l''''^'''- 
 
 U,"'! , Iju^therejI.''^'^'' , } just hero 
 ( She leel> /•' (. iSlie leeln J '' 
 
 So horrilily, horrihiy inioer. 
 
 The sea, the >ea. the sea, the 8ea, 
 
 The sea, the linrrihle ."^ea; 
 
 The Hea, the .sea, the sea, lh(? Hca, 
 
 The horrilile, horrilile neu. 
 Fki{.nam>o (ntfttin presentiinj t<pefrh.) 
 M(jst ^MaeioMs Madam, we — 
 
 QuLKx IJkssina. As])eech! in rhyme; 
 
 Oh well, we'll n-a I it. Sir, aiiulher time. 
 We'll put it ill .nir poeket {jnickets speech .) 
 
 Kindly say — 
 You cure l>iid temper here? 
 
 Fkiinando. Wc do. 
 
 Ql KKN Hkssina. We'll Htay. 
 
 I've hrou^^ht my dau^rhter. Sir, her temper't< vile; 
 I'kinckss Zor Zof. Mamma, how can you! 
 
 Qi'KKN IJkssina. Ill a little while 
 
 l*eihaps you'll cure her. 
 
 l*KiX( Kss Zof Zor. Really ! — 
 
 QiKKN Bk-sixa. Not a word! 
 
 Let little )s'w\> lie Si-cii hut iie\ ei' heard. 
 
Fijitie, the Fishei'-UKud. 
 
 ^'J 
 
 lailiim — 
 taixlv, 
 
 liintfiiii/ 
 
 ere 
 
 1 ihvMK' ; 
 
 >av — 
 
 .-•(RV. 
 
 word ! 
 
 ruriNANOo (pcduniioilh/). Tlity -.lioiilil l.c evident to 
 till' optic norvc, 
 
 But tlu> amiciilar .slnml"l not ol>scrv(* 
 
 Tlicir |)n-<fiu'(', 'lu-m ! 
 
 QiKKN Bkssina. {asiilt) A man of eruilitit^ii. 
 
 My own's the very Hweetest di-ptMition ; • 
 
 {Laiiijuisliiiiifh/) I'm far too feii"<itive. 
 
 {Abniptly) And now tor dinner. 
 
 Wi'vc had no tood to-day a." wt-'re a ninnor. 
 
 Siu Ihascimi.k. Queen Doo Doo 'a pecki-'li. 
 
 t^iKKN Mkssina. WIuto'h \ Qiir It.-it hotel? 
 
 Fkknaniio. Your Majesty — we liaven't L'ot one. 
 
 QiKKN Hkssina. " Well! 
 
 I'nj sure! Indeed I A pretty piece ol work. 
 
 Fkknanix). We've tonrteen did<e8, nine bi-hop-= and u 
 Turk, 
 
 All HenI here by their lovint^ wives and dau-ihtcrx 
 
 'I'o have their tenipcr-i cured with -hrinips and waters. 
 
 The town 's too small U) hold the crowds. In lact, 
 
 Kacli coltaj;e in the place in closi-ly packed. 
 
 QiKKX I5kssi.\ \. Antl where are we to sleep'.' 
 
 Fkkxaxdo. Well? there'.s the rub ; 
 
 Perhai)S your Majesty will take a tub. 
 
 (^iKK.v IJkssina, I'm not l)iti;^eneH! 
 
 Fkkxamk) (lliiiuiilitfnlbj.) Ol'cour:-*' tnit. IIi'.h a loafer, 
 I'lThaps your Majesty would like a ^«»ra; 
 You yee the island is'nt made to .stay in: 
 Thirt i.'^ " the place to spend a happy day in.'' 
 We've swinj^s, and round-abouts, an<l '* Old Aunt Sails ,' 
 Lawn tennis, skill Ich and a bowling' al U-y ; 
 The bathin<; 's lovely, and the music 's tine; 
 Dancing and fireworks at half-past nine ; 
 Ap|)les and ginger beer to make you witty ; 
 And if you can't be jolly, more 'h the pity. 
 
so 
 
 Ft fill'', the Flslter-iimid. 
 
 You've iio i'lcsi Iiuw liapjtv you can !»('. 
 
 Ainl tlu'ii lur iiint'|>eiK;i', \\\\y y^tWw .-liriinp.s anil t<a, 
 
 QrKKN I3L>:.ei\A. I liatc yuiir ninsic! hutlicr .swin;;.- ati<l 
 «kittle- ! 
 I «lon't want wit. 
 
 8iu PoiMXJAV (dJiidc.) Slio only asks lor wittles. 
 
 QiEKX l»KS."»iXA. Wo Miii.st lia\c I'cd- ! 
 Fkhxaxdo. You can't! We have im Ud.s. 
 
 QUKKX \iKS<\S.K (sftjinpiil;/ /ir)' /(X't (ilttji'lllj .) Oil willi 
 
 his lica<l I Yf.-, take till' all ilicir licatl.s ! 
 
 ( Walk< a>Kjiilij up and doirnshii/f. : crus/n's uijainsi 
 Piiyc, ir/io tuinbles down, sUtiiuj on hand-hoxcs, 
 nhc ships /liiii, lie rrie.s.) 
 
 Pa«;k. B'.jhoo ! Bohof) ! 
 
 Qtekx HK3SIXA. You iiaii^'lity little imp. 
 
 You'vf .-|)»>ill niv lH»m»i't. 
 
 {Kntcr Onidhi'i as old ivoinaa, she jives a shrinijt to 
 Queen licsshia.) 
 
 Cur.ALiVA. Pl('a>c to take a slirinip. 
 
 ( Exit /• t J It,' c hi I/.) 
 
 (Queen Jh.<y'ii(i cdis fdiriinp, and (jivcs sfmic (o Princess 
 Ztni Z<>u. Both siitile aiiiiahli/) 
 QiKKX IJkssixa. Why, what"- tin- inaitor? Kvallvj I ilon'i 
 
 care. 
 l*iuxcKsf' Zof Zof. I'll <\vv\) upon a tal»!o or a chair. 
 Qlek.k l>K<six.\. I'm i!oi jtaiticular: ril take flu tlo'»r. 
 PuisrEss Zui' /oi*. Tni ((uilc content to sleep again-^t the 
 
 wall. 
 QiKKX Bkssixa. In fhori, pra\ piit i- a;l^ where at nil. 
 Wlkvi"!! take eoiiipa-siui. >>ii a honiele-- tjnoen ? 
 FiKiNK, I \\\\\. \'>\\r Muje-iy. 
 i^i kKN Ukssixa. \'.Mir i:anie ? 
 
 ]t-'ii'(X>:. I'ltino, 
 
the 
 
 Fkknaniio. 
 
 Fijine, the Fiahcr-inuiU. 
 
 SONC AND Ciiuias. 
 Air. — " Dixie"- IjulI.*' 
 
 ThevMl h\vo\) upon tlu-^rloor, 
 Or ( Isc Itoliiml the do^r* 
 Or up ujjiiiinsl thv vvull 
 Or aiiv wliort' at ull. 
 
 Jl 
 
 C/uirux. 
 
 I^u"-I \viii. '^;i'^'>|. w.ii. ^^;!'*'>"| Will. i^;i"^"' Will. 
 
 I We ) ( Wf ) ( W. ) ( \\\ ) 
 
 I''k)inan'1)o. They'ri' no*, at al! piirticnlar. 
 Ai.i.. 'Tioular, 'licular. 
 
 Fkrna.voii. a o'.'llar or a stJiMo, ur .i -uMii or a lal>Io. 
 
 Tlioy'Il sioj'p. They'll •'U'ep, 
 Thi'v'!! -leep up'iti a tal>le, 
 Ai.L Rki'Kat. They'll l«ep, etc. 
 
 Mii-iif rrjifdlM fast fnr /xirs', thr i'hav(U'h:rs iml/s- lountl 
 f/i'i slitijc, nad f-Jxil 1 1. Fi/in'\ Qio'tn lit y.tiua (iml 
 J'n'iircs.t Zoti X(ni, tn'f/i i*ii</e, </" into rntUi\i<\ Munr; 
 chunifi'-'i i<> (I mnfiial nir, S.-i,if( itn<(f ap^n i, i tit. 
 />(/''.•, (rtiihiiaiiij Jiipikr. Juii" awl .V-r-nri/^ Ihn 
 f'lffar pullin;/. All 'jrott;> lucly (vetiU'A in 'juti/y'-ntt. 
 
 tilJils/u'DHH,) 
 
 Jl'PITKK. 'Va-l ['uHiiiz, th'-r--. my la 1 ' IIi'iv'- latfi a' 
 
 lUHt. 
 
 Jiiii)]) out ii'tw, •piiok, iih'l iiiak*- the painter ta<^ 
 
 ( M- I'cun/ //''A- ni(t of ':o<i\ (III I '•iJiH'.t down, iookiioj «n 
 If in -ifarrk nf !iom*:thiiuj.) 
 
 What i« it, uon.|U'? 
 
 .Mi:R(.'riiv. Sir, l!»<? p^iiii^r, please. 
 
 'I'here's no .me paintiiii^ heir ain>n;j; fliesc trecH. 
 
 (Jupit^'r jft'fsouf oj'hft t^ ipitfi a rope, /♦/'•/ Meri'iiri/ . ) 
 Jl iM I Ku. This i"< tlie painter, sir, 
 Mkiumiiy. Why ihat'»< a rojK". 
 
 .IrpiTKii. .V-'Xi line' I »ip)\ lor mn* vmi'll l<tM>\v, I hope, 
 
3J 
 
 Fijine, the Fisher-inaid. 
 
 Mkkciky. (liuhhiiii/ his s/iDiiUlrrs) I know I'm puiiHiMl 
 
 black ami liliu-. 
 Jui'iTKU. All rigiit. 
 
 Juno. 1)u vuii intcnil to leavo me hero all tii;;lit ? 
 JuriTKit. {To Mercury) Take out tlio \r<vi)H\]iy- 
 JfNO. Ha;,'gHi!;(' ! Wi'll, I'm sun! 
 
 {Jniio i/ets oitf of b'Hif trif/iuuf. <insi.itanre. Mercury 
 lands' hayyaye. Juno comes down to Jupiter.) 
 
 There \va>< atiiuc wlu'ii you'd liavi' liown — 
 
 {she falls on his shoulder.) 
 Ji'iMTKR. Don't l)or('! 
 
 Jiiiio, you're gettiuu; oi.j. Tliesf little tricks 
 Dill very well wIhmi wc were iii'Tf lik<' cliick-^. 
 1 know we're married, au<l its no use kickiiT, 
 IJut please remember, ma'am, tiuit you're no cliickeii. 
 You're .|uite as heavy a>i a cask ofU'er. 
 
 {LfMtks off R.) 
 At last, thiTe's .-'onx' one »Mmiir/. Hi, there ! IIiTe ! 
 {Prince Emerald enters li. trilh Fermiudo as Malf<(;siosfrt>.i 
 ruiNCK E.MKRM.i). Hall -! Wliut l>a\e \vc lier<'? 
 
 A tunny net. 
 
 {.Juitifer hold eliihnratehf, Juno rui t.seysy Mercury cnmcs 
 t'orirnrd ami ()otr\, Jupiter takes him by the shoulder 
 and turns him K* k.) 
 
 Jlpiteu. Pray, ilo y>\\ know ol any rtH)ms to let ? 
 We're st runners hire. 
 
 ruiXi'K KMKUM.n. (asitle.) WrII, I -honM ^ay no, rafher. 
 lie must have lived bi lore ItiM L'rcat j»r!indtatlier; 
 .V>k this di>tmt:ui.shed, i^rave, and learned man — 
 Doctor Mall" -iv».stro; he is an 
 HAY M :.. Y.Z.: A double S: 
 There'* tiolhiii;: that he can't, at least, profe.^s. 
 (foes up II ud talks ?r,7/» Jhuo. 
 
Fijinc, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 '3J 
 
 Jupiter to Feuxakdo. We're siniplo country folk, you 
 see; 
 My name i.s Hruwii, and this is Mrs. \i. 
 
 Fkuvaxdo. Well, Mr. Brown, I very much regret, 
 But that's the only resifjence you'll ;:et. 
 
 (Pointimj iobathintj machine.) 
 
 JupiTEU. Wiiy that's for Itathinj^! Live in that machine ! 
 Conlound it, Sir, whatever do you mean? 
 D'ye know you're e? peaking to— 
 
 Juxu. 'Hem, Juj>py, here! 
 
 FmiXAxno. Juppy? 
 
 JuiMTKH. Yes, short tor Jupiter, (to Juno.) Fm com- 
 ing', ilear. 
 My otlH-r najue you sec. 
 
 Fkuxaxik). Ah I Juppy Brown. 
 
 ilriMTKR. Precisely so. For me that ho.x wouM ilo; 
 But, come, yoti must confess it's Hmall foi 
 'riiere'.s not >nucl» room lor rows and — 
 
 vo 
 
 She's got a precious temper 
 
 ^irhi.spt'r.H.) Mrs. H. 
 
 (romuiif dmcii.) 
 
 M 
 
 eaniiM' me 
 
 JuPiTKB. You? ((lipn'(ilini/ly.) Oh, my dear 
 
 (AN sprak- (if the .irune time throwj' thr Jotloiriioj ; 
 fast (iinl loicin 
 
 Jcso. Yes \oU did! Taik about u\y temper, wlim y.mr 
 own 's a** hot as a kilchtii poker, and you do everything 
 you can to aggravate me ! You knowyoii do! I'll go l»aek 
 I will. Sha'nt, sha'nl. ^repeats sevrral times.) 
 
 JriMTKR. Come, mv dear. Well it'8 all vour own 
 
 taidt 
 
 You know you ihink «»l nmhiiiL' Imt dressing, and making 
 a peacoek of vourself. Will y-m hoM v,.nr long 
 
 U4> 
 
 Will 
 
 ou I 
 
 i»' t|Ml<'i 
 
S4 
 
 Fijine, the Fuihei'-nuiid. 
 
 PiUNCK Kmerm.u {sooth III ijlj/.) My (Uar Sir! My Avnr 
 Muduiii! X(j\v <l.i 1« rjilm ! I'ray, coIl^i^U•l•. 
 
 tsiops kis ears.) 
 Fkr.nanko. Well yuu'n' u nice pair! Utri-'a u pntiy 
 stiito of lliingn! What am 1 to do? Ulups his tors.) 
 
 Mkikiry. Now that's ju>t tin' way they ^^o on at hotnc. 
 Always '(uarrcHiii.:-. I'll ;:ivi' warning. I can't -tand it. 
 I won't stand it. No pcaco tr<»in tnorning till niglii. It'n 
 row, row, row; one might as well live in a nicnageric. 
 
 Uuju'fcr iHus up to hd'h (iiid firiiios down a band hox^ 
 tohirh he Jumps tif.nn strcrul times. Juno nins up 
 mid l>rin</s- hio-l: hut Ijuj-, tiikcs ovt hat and drins- 
 her fist fhroii;fh the rroini. Fi/inc aiter.s from 
 cottuijc, ami Vorafina comes on as old iromaa L., 
 with basket as before.) 
 
 CoJi.VLiXA. Here. Takt a 'hrinii»yoti nanglity folk.«. 
 
 FiFiNE irnniiin;/ /'r"ira>d>. Ah do ! 
 
 (she /'alts oa laic hnee to Jupiter, f/tirin/ hint a 
 shrimp. Curat ina 'jirrs shrinijis all maud and 
 c.vit Ij. Thi-y all eat shrimps, yraduaUy jrowimj 
 amiable ami .'<iiiilin>/.] 
 
 Jl'xo. \Vh\ , wh;il'« tin m.itti'r, pray, with you? 
 
 Jri'iTta. It si'(Mn< t<> me we've had a little row. 
 
 PiUNCE K.MKi».\LT>. (irouiralli/.) I think tlure*- l.cdi a 
 
 storm. It's all gone now. 
 
 (Jupittr and ./inio pirh- up fra<jments of hat and 
 bonnet, sinilini/.) 
 
 Juxo. My Hiuiday l»unnel ! 
 
 JriMTKR. And my !»ian new hat ! 
 
 Jixo. It mnsi have liecn a storm to do all tliat. 
 JriMTEK. No mutter. Well, ni\ diar, you s.»y<'urhou cj 
 it's large enough to suit a lamdy niou><'. 
 Ji'xo. I think it's eharminir; 
 
Fljine, the Flithf'.r-maid. 
 
 35 
 
 'till ;i 
 
 it nitd 
 
 I) lilt 
 
 liw 
 
 Mil (■ 
 
 I 'l KINK. CoiiiO, !ii|il -Oo iii^i.Io. 
 
 .IriMTi:!:. ^'oii raii't ird in. 
 
 I'lKiNK. .Iii^t wait until she's tricil. 
 
 (f/iri/ ifo iiifn haf/iiiitf )iiitc/ii)te, Mi riHrif puin in fhr 
 lii</</ii;/t\ Jiijn'tt r lunks tltrouijh tclesrupe of]' L.) 
 
 .IriMTKu. Hiillo! TlHy'rc l.atliin;! tlu'ff I 'J'!u' littir (U'UIn! 
 
 I liav'nl lia<l ii wash Inr scvorai years; * 
 
 I'll ^o aii'l lake a swim. I \' 'ii't ho hmj:. 
 
 (exit <tt hiick L, Prime Emnudd ami Fanamlo look nf 
 edch other, fhcn tnirsf out lainf/iiiii/J 
 
 Pi'.ixcK Kmkualu. W< II. that'- a fiinny pair! 
 
 l'i;iiN.\xit(). 'J'JK'y're )iia<l ! 
 
 Mkim I itY (covdiuj domi.) Vuii're \vi'oip_', 
 
 Tliey'ic only nift!Ti<'<l. 
 
 Pkinck lvMKii.vi,!». Who's vciir ina-tfi .' sav, 
 
 Mkiu'L'ry ia.side). I really ilon't knnw wliat he is, today. 
 
 Fku.van'Dh. Ves, what's his liii<incs.s V 
 
 Mkiiciiiv. What's his hnsitiesn? Well, 
 rpou niv won! it's vcrv harl to tell. 
 
 |[c'- in ih'' uaif'r W(»rl<-. 
 
 PiUNci: ll.MKUAi.i). An eii-'inoer? 
 
 Mi.iiiiitY. It is'nt irin he jnakcs, it'- hail. 
 
 I'kim K I'.MKKAi.n. Oh, beer. 
 
 Mkijcihv. Not heer, iiiit hail. 
 
 PiuxcK E.MKRAi.i). Same tlun^', I see, a hrewer. 
 
 Mi:iicniY. I know hi- hrnise. 'rnfts s/ioiddrr.) 
 
 I'll ratlu r tluy were lewcr. 
 
 I'^KiiXANno. He keeps a lirt-raie tap? 
 
 .Mkium'ky. 'J'he lir-^lost rate: 
 
 VoiiM think -n if yon 'U,{ it dn your pale. 
 |[is liail i ' pretty sfronir. .In-t sec his sn»»w8 ! 
 
 IMiiNTK 1''mku\i.i». His nti-el W< II, what'- the maiirr 
 with his nose? 
 
 iii 
 
3(S 
 
 Fljiitei iha FUhtir-hUiid. 
 
 It's iimcli like otlicr noses. In it rc«l? 
 
 Mkiutky. Why wlier) it l»l<»\vs, it lUlIs uinl lies in l»i'i|. 
 
 1''khn.\m>o. TIuh'h queer! 
 
 Pkinck Kmkiiai.1i. Where iIo tliey live? 
 
 Mkiiciuy. Live! oh in Skyc. 
 
 I^IINTK E.MKK.VI.I). Th<' I'llind.' 
 
 Mkiutrv. Hi;rli luml ? Yes, (aside) 'tis, very Iwgli- 
 
 Fkk.xanho. Say, i- hf ri«'h? 
 
 Mkuccry. Iiich ! Why he iiiake.«i the (J) *\o\\^, 
 
 'J'heyM never rise altMie. 
 
 I'i:knam»o. Well,thi^< is news! 
 
 MKKcntv. Why, it h< -Imwered ;.'oI(|, t 'won I J not l»e mist. 
 
 Uisidfj Hon coiilil it ? (JoM is troM.ftntl mist \h — mist. 
 
 I'uixcK Kmkkai.h. a funny pair! It wuuki he iianl to 
 
 niatcli liiem. 
 
 Fkrxaxdo. Tliey'II want iv h)t of sjirinipsl I'll go ami 
 
 catch them. 
 
 (Kxnnit Ji.) 
 
 MKRnitv. I tiiink that'- |iu/,zkil theiu. Hut oh,tlear jue ! 
 I've lo>i thtit ha«;oi thnu'lerltolts. Let's see. 
 I put it on niyselt*. It must have tlrt>ppe<l ; 
 Perhaps it fell ait Saturn when we stopped. 
 I only know that when it «h)es conu' down, 
 There'll l»e a lii^>;isli row in this siniill town. 
 I am so hunirry I (lonh-.s- thromjlt window of fotfiKje), 
 
 Why, what iuivc we here? 
 Scune hreatl and cheese, and liiis lini' juj^ of lieer. 
 
 (brinifn out hread, rfieese and beer, eats and drinks.) 
 What's in that cupUiard ? (ijeis fishinf/ rod and puts it 
 throinjh irindow.) 
 
 Hums? {Itriiujs out sto<kin<j.) 
 
 Why, it's a stookinj,'! 
 And stutVed with gokl ! Now reiilly this is shocking! 
 
Fifiuc, the Fluhtr-nuiid. 
 
 S7 
 
 III 
 
 IkhI. 
 
 •ry hiiili- 
 
 J) i\0\\>*y 
 
 lot l»o mist. 
 ( is — miHt. 
 l)e hanl to 
 
 I'll go ami 
 
 1 1, (lour mo'. 
 
 lliKJC), 
 
 mil }ni(s it 
 Iforkiiuj.) 
 
 Tlii.H gro»' I lor l'oM is vt ry sail ; (eiii])ficit i/olil into pockdn.) 
 
 IJUHO jKlf! 
 
 Why, tlioro jiro lui>) mure ^-tockin-rs <>ii tlio ^liolf ; 
 I may a-; well -icp in ami liclp mysolt', 
 
 (ijefH ill tlifniujh iriiiihnn.) 
 (rnfer from (^(t((<it/i Qinm Fniiiir,- aiiil Qinni llfssinn 
 
 and Pn'iircss X<>ii Z"U, f/ic hit/^r kiiiUiiiij, she t/ces | 
 
 (iiiil si/s ttyaiiist hoat . ) ' " 
 
 QrKKN Faiknti:. How well you're looking:. Wlmt a 
 (■liannin,<^ hoiiiiot ! 
 
 <irKiA' Hkssiw. Yon iliiiil< it nioo? \ siopt a wook upon it. 
 lint what a lovoly dross. And -tich a waist ! 
 
 Qi'KKX Faikxck. So glad you like it, drar, yoii havo yiioh 
 tnsto. 
 
 QfKKX Bkssixa. Von llaittrcr! 
 
 QiKKN Faikxck. So that's your datiditor. 
 
 QcKKN Hk.ssina. Host ol girls. 
 
 (ii'KKN Faikx''i;. So liko hor dour mamma; tho sumo 
 hrown cnrlH. 
 
 Qi'EKX lUissiXA. (siiiijxriiiijli/) Thoy call us sistors. 
 QiKEX Faikxck. Oh, nodonl>t, my dour. 
 
 IIow Htrango, at last, I should huvf nut yon horo. 
 Qi'KKX Ukssixa. Oh, thiii>:s havo chaiiL'od, and I'm a 
 
 lonely widow, 
 (JtKKX Faiknci:. You're not ulono, my dour, for I'm a ditto. 
 The lat' lamentod — Ah, here *.'omos my son. 
 
 {Entti Prinn' Emntihl, /.'. //» his.n's Queen lieasiiuCs 
 fiuml) 
 t^i'KKX Hkssixa. IIi> nu>ther'.s oyoH ; so full of lu'n. 
 
 I'uixci: I'iMKiiAi.i). Madam, nntil your U-atity rame he- 
 
 tweoii \\t>y 
 I littlo know thi" island ludda Vonu,«. 
 
38 
 
 Fijlm; tint FUhor-hiaid. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Qi-KKX HhNsiNA. Vemi!^! A clianniiii,' Im»v. My .liiM.L'lit*T.— 
 Prince. (Pritircss X^u Xou r/.vcv and rurtsri/s. He 
 hoirs) 
 
 PlUXCK IVMKRAIII. T\\in lilo.^-"*!!!.^ "11 OHO tiTC. (U-iiltc) 
 
 Tlio tree 's II i|iiiric<'. 
 QiKKN lii.-<iNA, \V('ll.l.:i\f vuu two nlniic; iiinUHc C'ftch 
 
 ullior. 
 I'vi' lots oftlim.L's ti» tfll ynnr <luiTm;r niulluT. 
 
 {Priiice and Queen Fa'mwc go j/y> /.. Queen Bis.v'na 
 hriii'/s /oil y.im ilnirn I!, she ])Oints occr her shuuhlcr 
 tuwards the J'rinci). 
 
 Ucnu'iiilK-r Mifi«, yonvo li-ri- to iiuike a uuifoli. 
 'I'hc l*riiu;«' hiis lots «>t' nit^Mfy. lie's ii catcli. 
 In liuHiiii hour, luititl, kIh'Ii I C(»nu' liack, 
 1 Ii(»jK' lo liml it settled; ov — yuu'll paek. 
 
 (I'lincess .shakes her shoiildcrx impatlcntli/ Thei/ f/o 
 lip Ii. fhi othera loine down L.) 
 
 QfKKN' Faiexck. TliJit girl "s a llirt. I see It in her eye. 
 PuixcK KMKnAi.n. All right niiiimnii. (nod.s) 
 (.)it;Kx Faiknck. (To Qinen Ih'ssiiia.) Come, dear. 
 <H'Ki:x Hkssixa. (A7v.s//».7 her hand) Ta ta ! 
 
 QiKKX Faikxcm:. (Jood-bye. 
 
 Crhe ttoo Qneen-f ijo n(f' L. cmh with an arm round the 
 other's waist. ' Prinres.t Xou %on .fits hy Itiuit, ami 
 l)e;/ins knittimj.) 
 
 PiiixcK K.MKiiAi.it. What are you doing, Princess? 
 
 PiiixcKSH Zof Zor. Knitting socks 
 
 l\n' Pohir hears. We're going t(» send a hox, 
 
 With niee -.varni eoinlortcrs and over-shoes. 
 
 Pui.NeE K.MKiiAi.n. Pray let niehelp! 
 
 Prixckss Zor Zor. Di lighted, if yon chose. 
 
 {Prince sits at her fi-et, she places hank of in ml over 
 his hands and licyins windiu'/) 
 
 pRiXfE F.MKUAi.P. IIow truly chaiitahle! 
 
lUL'litor. — 
 tsrj/.f. He 
 
 misc each 
 
 n Ih.'i.'ihia 
 
 Theif ;fo 
 
 \(-V I'VC. 
 
 r. 
 
 Ubye. 
 
 round the 
 Imdt, anil 
 
 ? 
 
 inxtl occr 
 
 Fijinef Uie Fiaher-imdJ. 39 
 
 Prin'ceh8 Zou Zou. Yo^, |)Oor lieur.", 
 
 They arc so colt I. 
 
 FiiixcE IvMKRALD. It lills oiie'rt ey08 with tears. 
 
 I (ion't «ce how those sock.s ami shoes arc sent. 
 
 PuiNC'K.ss Zou Zou. There's a Society. Tin P;-esiJciit. 
 
 {produces small book and pencil.) 
 Subscriittiuij list — "Prince Piunpkin, half'a crown, 
 Count Caraway, two Hhillinjfs." 
 
 Prince E.mkuald. Put nie down — 
 
 Princess Zou Zou. With jilrasuro, Prince. 
 
 Princk Emkrald. For twopence. 
 
 Princess Zou Zou. You're so kind, 
 
 Then may I hope tliat you will not Ik; Mind 
 
 To the Society for |)rovidiiijj; apes 
 
 With pocket handkorchiels and nice warm capes. 
 
 They are your own relations ; 
 
 Prince E.meralt). I don't care. 
 
 Printkss Zou Zou. May 1 ? ^ 
 
 Prin«'b Emerald. Another twopence. (Princess wrilcs) 
 
 PuixcEs.H Zou Zou. Two-pence. There ! 
 
 Then the .Society. 
 PuiNcE Emerald. ^aside) Oh, how 
 
 she talks ! 
 Princess Zou Zuu. Providing' negroes with new toastirjg 
 
 forks. 
 Prince Emerald. With toastin)< Turks I VViiatfor? For 
 
 catching ants? 
 Princess Zou Zou. How can they j)roperly cook their 
 
 eniigrai) s ? 
 Prince Emerald. Tluu'a very true. For live'iKmnds put 
 
 mec'ow.i. 
 An emigrants— well, should ho nice and l)rown, 
 
40 
 
 Fifuie, t/ie Fis/ier-Dudd. 
 
 An<l crisp an«l juicy : tloiu' upon a fork. 
 PiiixcKss Zor Zou. Y'ou'ro f»<» couHJih-mtt'. 
 PuixcK Kmichali). (rinini/) Let's tiikf a walk. 
 (tishlc) Ifl ilon't chan^ro the Hiibject noon, I hoc, 
 Jiy Jove, tlierf wo'nt l»e much cliange k'll in ine. 
 
 (aloud) 
 They've got a grotto and a lovely view; 
 13('8i(K'H three monkey^' ami n kuti;.'aroo. 
 pRiNt'Kss Zof Zor. You're (juite sure, Prince, there's 
 
 nothing there alarujiiig. 
 Prince Kmkraij). You noeil'nt healraiil. 
 PiiiNCKSs Zoi* Zor. (a.iidi') The Prince in charming. 
 (hJxit arm in arm R.) 
 
 (Merniri/ re-enters from winduir, laden with jdnnda) 
 More stockings tilled with gold ; a golden erown ; 
 Some diamond rings, and here's a splendid gown. 
 I am in luck ! I'll hiile them in this grotto; 
 Sate bind, sale tind, has always l>een my ii»olto. 
 , OCxiti E. R) 
 
 Enter Fi fine from bathinj machine) 
 FlKiNE. Then-! I've unpacked her things. Such funny 
 I'uHhiohs. 
 It*5) cK-ar tliey're very ricii. JJut, then, what passions ! 
 
 (comes down.) 
 Prince Kmerald is so nice. It wouhl be I'unny 
 If he should — Well, why not? I've lots of money I 
 Poor Fernie ! He'd not like another lover — 
 At lirst, of course; but then, he'd soon recover. 
 Men always do. llownietl Prinee-s Fitine! 
 And then, perhaps, some day, it njight l>e Queen. 
 
 (sfrnts vp ami down staye conceitedly.) 
 What will your Majesty U' pleased to wear? 
 How will your Majesty arrange your hair? 
 
Fijitie, the FUher-inaid. 
 
 41 
 
 , there's 
 
 hariuiuu. 
 
 Iili(iuhr) 
 
 li lurniy 
 lows ! 
 
 Vour Majosty — {Fcrnamlo has enter&l at bark L in hi.i own 
 
 Fkunando (niiiuickiiii/ her.) Your Muje.xty ? H»! lia I 
 Fill 111'. Fit', lit- ! 
 
 FiKiNK. How very Hharp you arc! 
 
 Fkrnando. Well, never iniiul, I've ilica<irul ncwHtotell j 
 You'll ;^et no fhriinp-" to-ilay ; they've vaiiisheil. 
 
 FiFiNK Undilfemttlj/.) Well. 
 
 FKaxANDO. riu r«''H not a single one on all the shore ; 
 I fear they're j^one lor j^oofl. 
 
 t'lKiNK. . Ah ! Any more? 
 
 Fkusando. Filhie! 
 
 FiFiNK. I ilun't care it they j»o or stay. 
 
 I shan't Htay here myself. Fm ^oing away. 
 {looking doicn and iditying wUh apron.) 
 
 If some folks fancy other fulUs — then — why, 
 
 There's nothing? niore to ."ay, except i»ocMl-hye. 
 
 {rtirtsci/s amitfoci np utmje.) 
 
 Fep.kando. Prince KineraKl'i^ ha<l a tinj^er in thif< pie, 
 
 If I ilon't punch his head ! ami hlack his eye! 
 (exit I J ani/rili/.) 
 
 FiFiNK. Poor dear Fernamlo! This is l)a(l, Fiflne, 
 You know you love him. IJut to he a (jueen ; 
 That'.s far too goo<l to lose, (enter rrinces.t Ztni /C»n J{.) 
 
 Princes.s Zou Zou. Well, that'.s all rij^ht, 
 
 We're goinj^ out to take a walk to-night ; 
 He squeezed my hand tliree times. We saw the view, 
 And fed the monkeyn and the kangaroo. 
 
 FiFiXK (cominifdown). Prince Emerald ? 
 
 Princk.^s Zor Zor. Of Course, why not, Mis'), j)ray? 
 
 FiFiXK. He (\\i\ the same to me, niyself, to-day. 
 
 Princess Zor Zoi'. He did! But then that's nothing; 
 that's in joke. 
 
 FiFJNE. Perhaps he joked with you. 
 
 Princess Zol' Zou (with asperity), I think you spoke. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 1.25 
 
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 1.6 
 
 
 M 6" — 
 
 
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 <^ 
 
 /}. 
 
 A 
 
 '<^. 
 
 ^. 
 
 <W/ 
 
 'a 
 
 ^ -^ 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 
 W, 
 
 C/j 
 
 
i 
 
 sssBssam 
 
 Fljine, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 Yon liorriil littlo slirimp <:'\r\, jro .iway. 
 
 Fifixp:. Ho kisseil iiio twice this iiiurniiip^. 
 
 Princess Zou Zor. All in play, 
 
 FiFiNE (aside^. Nothing indceel ! Perhaps she's right- 
 I'll go and cry my eyes out. 
 
 Printkss Zou Zou. Do. Good night. 
 
 FiFiNK. You nasty Htnck-iip [hiiij; \ h;ue you. Bah! 
 (Exit into coitaye.) 
 
 Princess Zou Zou. I'll pay him out for that. I'll 
 tell nminnui. 
 
 {Runs into cottage.) 
 
 (Juno appears at door oj batfiing machine.) 
 
 JcNo (calls). Juppy! (comes down.) He isn't here! 
 
 A pretty thing ! 
 
 He leaves n»e like a parcel with a ring, 
 
 Then runs away. lie doesn't prize his wife ; 
 
 I'll teach liini! Qoolcs of)' L.) Here he comes ! Upon my 
 
 life, 
 
 Two wome'-i on his a'-m ! A pretty fellow! 
 
 With jealousy, Tm sure, I'm turning yellow. 
 
 (Looks of L.) 
 
 Oh, ve/y well ! All right my lord and master, 
 
 Don't hurry, pray ! A snail would walk home faster. 
 (Conies down.) 
 
 He'll pay for this; as sure as stars are stars, 
 
 I'll hide his slippers ; burn his best cigars ; 
 
 Cut every blessed button off his shirt. 
 
 Of one thing I'm determined — he shan't flirt. 
 
 I'll go and n)eet them — no, I won't — I'll hide. » 
 
 (wHh su2)pr€s.'f''d passion of the most tragic.) 
 
 I'm like a city 'bus — I'm full inside. 
 
 (goes up into machine, leaves door half oven, occasion- 
 ally looJxing out. Enter Jupiter with the two Queens, 
 one on each arm. They sit down at table L. Stage 
 gradually grows dim.) 
 
OP ! Upon my 
 
 er, 
 
 me faster. 
 
 •t. 
 
 e. , 
 Kjic.) 
 
 open, occasion- 
 t/te two Queens, 
 table L. Stage 
 
 Fijine, the FisJier-uiaid. 
 
 43 
 
 1 play, 
 8 she's right- 
 night, 
 on. Bah ! 
 
 Dr that. I'll 
 
 'hine.) 
 
 e isn't here! 
 
 Jupiter. Ali ! what a day we're liaving to be sure ! 
 
 I've not felt jollier in my life before. 
 
 Strolling along the rocks, out over there 
 
 This charming creature dropped her — well, back hair. 
 
 Reaching to save it ere it touched the water, 
 
 She would have tuinl)led in if I'd not caught her. 
 
 Queen Bessixa (smiling coquettishly .) Pray Mr. 
 
 Jupiter. Jones; a city broker, (aside.) Smart! 
 
 Queen Bessina (aside.) Oh ! what a handsome follow ! 
 
 Queen Faience (aside.) My poor heart ! 
 
 Queen Bessina. Accept my thanks, (curtiei/s.) 
 
 Queen Faience (aside.) My dear, oh what a pity ! 
 
 He's only something horrid in the city. 
 
 (Aside.) I'd have him, if he'd ask me, in a minnit. 
 
 Queen Bessina (aside.) The man's a perfect prize, and 
 
 I'll just win it. 
 
 Jupiter. Ladies, will you accept, as souvenir, 
 
 A liandful of these litfle trifles here ? 
 
 (kis£2s their hands and gives diamonds to each.) 
 
 Queen Bessina. Diamonds I Good gracious! Why 
 
 they're big as beans ! 
 
 Queen Faience (aside). The man's a prince! I'll find 
 
 out what this means. 
 
 (Juno comes down.) 
 
 Jupiter (aside.) My wife ! 
 
 (aloud to her.) My dear ! 
 
 Juno (with the air of a Juno.) Sir ! 
 
 Jupiter (disconcerted.) Ta Ta. 
 
 I think I'll go and smoke a mild cigar. 
 
 (Strolls off B.) 
 
 Queen Bessina. Who's this? 
 
 Queen Faience. A stranger! (to her.) It's a lovely day. 
 
 Juno (dryly.) It's most, 'hem, bracing weather, I should 
 say. 
 
u 
 
 Fijine, the Fisher-niaid. 
 
 QuKEK Faiexce {aside) Slie isn't nice. 
 
 QiJKKX Ukssixa (aside.) I think nlie's in a passion, 
 
 Whoever saw a dress in sncli a lasliion! 
 
 Queen Faiknx'e (aloud.) Is tliat the latest Paris style, 
 
 that waist ? 
 
 Jl'xo. Don't mention Pari'', pray, the man's nc taste! 
 
 You'd scarcely think that he preferred to me 
 
 That brazen creature Venus. 
 
 Queen Beshixa. Who is she? 
 
 Juno (aside.) I quite forgot ! 
 
 Queen Bessina (laii'/hiii(/.) It's clear, the woman's mad. 
 
 Jung (aside.) The saucy n)in.\es ! I could pull their hair. 
 
 (aloud, a la Kobson in " Medea.") 
 
 R-r-rash female women! P-r-r-ray beware! 
 
 Queen Faien'ce. Indeed ma'am ! Who are you? 
 
 Juxo (aside in deep bass fanes if possible.) I must disemble. 
 
 (aloud.) I'm Mrs. Brown. 
 
 Queen Bessina. We thou^'ht you mijrht l>e Kemble. 
 
 (enler li. Prince Emerald in Fernanda's disguise. 
 
 The Queens and Juno go up.) 
 
 Prince Emerald (aside.) So Mrs. Brown is jealous. 
 
 Here's a joke! 
 
 They'll never know me in Fernando's cloak. 
 
 I'll have some fun. (beckons mysterio\isly to Juno.) 
 
 You're jealous. 
 Juno. 1 1 
 
 Prince Emerald (ivifh mock.'tympathj.) You've reason. 
 
 (in stage icliisptr.) 
 
 To-night: by moonlight: in the grotto. 
 
 Juno. Treason ! 
 
 Prince Emerald. Hush! (Juno goes up E. Prince 
 (beckons apart to Queen Bessina.) 
 Beauty on love can surely never frown. 
 To-night : by moonlight: in the grotto: Brown. 
 
paspion. 
 
 t Paris .style, 
 
 's lie taste I 
 
 is bIio ? 
 
 v'Oiiinn's mad. 
 mil their hair. 
 
 you ? 
 lustdiscmble. 
 
 it lie Kenible. 
 lo^s disguise. 
 
 n is jealous. 
 
 Juno.) 
 
 ou ve reason . 
 
 grotto. 
 
 Treason ! 
 ' U. Prince 
 
 n. 
 
 Fifine, the FUhsr-mLld. ^ 
 
 QrEEX Bessina {aside). Brown? He means Jones! 
 Dear fellow I Caught alrea.ly 1 
 
 Prince Emerald Hush I Do not epeak. They're com- 
 ing. Steady 1 ^ 
 
 ^^nf'llFT''''' ^.^'^''P> «»^<^>' ^ercuf'i/ li., he loots up 
 at t lie sky anxiously.) ^ > ' "/^ 
 
 llmcvRY {nervously.) What would it cost to wrap in 
 cotton wool, ^ 
 
 Say ten leet thick— 
 
 Pkince Emerald. Well, what? 
 
 ?J"'^'^'^^^'- The world. 
 
 Prince Emerald. Thafncool! 
 
 Mercl'ry. Or blankets. 
 Prince Emerald. What! 
 
 Mercury. • A dozen's thick enough. 
 
 Or, say, two dozen. ° 
 
 Prince Emerald. Wrap the world in I-Stufl! 
 
 Here. Get a ton of ice : go straight to be<l, 
 And put two dozen leeches on your head. 
 You're going mad. 
 ^ Mercury. I think I am, indeed I 
 Thank you, kind sir. {picks his pocket.) 
 I'll go and have a weed ! 
 {goes upstage md talks to Queens, enter R. and L., all 
 the characters, fishermen, villagers, cisifors, etc. 
 Irince slqys out R. and reappears in his own dress.) 
 Prince Emerald {bringing Jvpita- down.) 
 luu rogue J {pokes him plaijully in the Hhs.) 
 
 Wliy, Brown, you've made a pretty capture. 
 (points over shoulder.) i^uic. 
 
 To-night: by moonlight: in the grotto: Rapture! 
 Jupiter {laughing,) I'll go, for fun. What's this ? 
 Fernando ^11 right. 
 
 We only come to wish you all good ni<dit. 
 (characters sing ''Good Night'' Chorus'^ front the 
 Gran I Duchess," moving off L. and R. as sc 
 closes in.) 
 
 scene 
 
SCENE V. 
 
 The Grotto. 
 (Set in front grooves; to open in centre. Enter Prince 
 Emerald L. I.) 
 riuNCE Emkrald. I'm first. That's good: and now to see 
 the fun. 
 {looks off L) There's someone coming', 
 
 So ! The play's begun. 
 igoes off 11 f cuter Mercury L, loith sack.) 
 Mekctrv. All ri^i^ht, my ij;oUrs all safe, ami I'm alone. 
 I'll go and hide my treasure near this stone. 
 The people hereabouts have eyes like hawks ! 
 I'm very lucky — silver spoons and forks ; 
 Nine liandkerchiefs, besides a stilton cheese. 
 
 {looks off' L.) Here's Jupiter. By jovc, there'll be a 
 breeze I 
 
 I'll hide, {goes off li, eater Jupiter with Queen Bessina on 
 his arm, L) 
 
 Jupiter. Dear Madam. 
 
 Queen Bessina (.v/f/Z^s.) Ah; tfear Mr. Jones ! 
 
 Jupiter. Come let us take a seat upon these stones. 
 {they sit C.) 
 
 Queen Bessina. I wish we'd met before. 
 
 Jupiter. 'Tie late {hesitates.) Supposing. 
 
 QuEBN Bessina (meaningly.) It's not too late, perhaps, 
 
 {aside) ho moans proposing, 
 
 Jupiter. Supposing! But no, you'll think me bold. 
 
 {she shakes her head.) 
 
 If I should a.-^k you — Uiesitaies, she glances vp and then 
 
 looka down coqtiettishly) are you feeling 
 
 (she turns hei' head aside, smili))g.) Cold? 
 
Enter Prince 
 .nd now to see 
 
 8 begun. 
 (1 I'm alone. 
 
 Fifme^ the FisJier-mald. 
 
 47 
 
 there'll be a 
 , Bessina on 
 
 Mr. Jones ! 
 stones. 
 
 Supposing, 
 te, perhaps, 
 
 k me bold. 
 ip and then 
 Cold ? 
 
 Queen Bessina {frijidhj,) Oh, nut at ail. You might 
 be warmer. 
 
 Jui'iTER Unnoce)tili/.) I? 
 
 Thank yon, I'm wartii enough. 
 
 Queen Bessina (rLsing). I'll say good-bye. 
 
 Jupiter. I fear you Ihid my conversation slow. 
 
 I wish we\l met, sav, tortv rears ago. 
 
 Queen Bessina. Sirl forty years! 
 
 Jupiter. We both had younger bones. 
 
 Queen Bessina. Speak lor yourself. 
 
 JupiTKR. Besides, there's Mrs. Jones. 
 
 Queen Bessina. You're married? Wretch! 
 
 (enter running, Fernando, Fifine, Queen Faience, and 
 
 all the characters y except Mercuri), Juno and Irince 
 
 Emerald, L.) 
 FiKiNE. Thieves ! 
 
 Queen Faience. Thieves! Where is my crown? 
 
 Fernando. Where is that rascal gone to, Juppy Brown ? 
 
 {they seize Jupiter.) 
 
 FiFiNE. Where is my gold? 
 
 Sir Irascikle Raps. My snulf box? 
 
 Princess Zou Zou. Diamond ring? 
 
 Sir Popinjay Pops. My handkerchiet ? 
 
 Fernani»o. My Stilton cheese? 
 
 iall together.) Where's everything? 
 
 (enter Juno L.) 
 
 Juno. So here you are ! 
 
 Jupiter. My dear, it's all a joke. 
 
 Juno. A joke 1 Don't tell me that, sir! I shall choke! 
 
 Jupiter. It's all that Mercury! 
 
 Prince Emerald (off R.) All right ! I've got him ! 
 {oiter Prince Emerald R, leading in Mercury by one 
 ear.) 
 I've found the thief! 
 
 Mercury. Oh! oh! Please don't! 
 
 Jupiter. I'll pot him! 
 
48 
 
 Fijine, the Flshnr-tnald. 
 
 What's this? (jnills haiidkeicliief's out of hii^ aleecea.) 
 Anil this? {pnlh (iiiDther out of the bark of his coaf,) aiul 
 this? (j)}iUs mtivc iKnidkerchiefs out of Idsboot^^ ami /'roiii 
 under his loaistcoat. He shakes him soundly ; aq\iantitij 
 of money rolls on the yround.) 
 
 You know tlie cost. 
 
 (/« the awfnlest possible tones.) Where are my 
 thiimlerlMjhs? 
 
 MKRruuY ijalliiuj on his knees.) I'h'aso sir ! they're lost. 
 
 (rt terrific crash heard off L, Jupiter rushes o(f L. 
 and returns instantly with a thunderbolt in his 
 hand : he raises it to strike Mercury, when Coralina 
 runs on L. with basket of shrimps, dressed as a 
 
 Coralina. Here, take some shrimps, you nauglity, 
 nau;j:hty folks. 
 
 (they all take shrimps. Soft music.) 
 Jupiter. I can't be angry at the fellow's jokes. 
 
 {^fo Mercury.) Get uj)! (Mercury rises to his feet.) 
 Leave off your tricks. 
 ■ Mercury. I'll really try. 
 
 Jupiter. You'd better, sir ; or else — ^^just mind your eye. 
 My name's not Brown or Jones, as, clearly, you know ; 
 In fact I'm Jupiter, and this is Juno. 
 (f/eneral astonishment.) 
 
 FiFiNE. Fernando! ])ray forgive your own Fifine ? 
 
 Ferxando (embracing her.) Forgive you! Yes! 
 
 FiFiNE (archly.) I don't want to be Queen . 
 
 I'd rather V)e a fisher girl, and sing. 
 I've had enough of wealth. 
 
 Jupiter (pattiny her on the head.) Nice little thing! 
 
 Juno. Nice little thing indeed! the little (checks 
 herself) dear. 
 
 Jupiter. Her temi)er's much improved, that's very clear. 
 (to Juno.) You'll lt>ave ofi' nagging? 
 
s' deeces.) 
 
 ' his coal,) and 
 
 oots, and I idia 
 \hj ; a quantify 
 
 w the cost. 
 Hu're arc my 
 
 ir ! they're lost, 
 r rushes op' L. 
 idevhoJt in his 
 , when Coralina 
 s, dressed as a 
 
 you nauglity, 
 
 ( music.) 
 
 jokes. 
 
 s to his feet.) 
 
 ally try. 
 ninil your eye. 
 you know ; 
 
 Fiiine? 
 Yes! 
 \)C Queen . 
 
 Lie thing! 
 Itle (checks 
 
 it'.'* verv clear. 
 
 FIJine, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 iO 
 
 Jrxo {gives him her hand.) Yen, I will : Ami you? 
 
 .Iri'iTKR. Oh I? I'm miM as milk and water, >Jn. 
 I say, don't take so lon;_' to do your hair. 
 
 Jrxo. I'll tell you what ! I'll wear a wii,'. Now, there! 
 
 Prixokss Zor Zor. What's to become of me? 
 
 PiiixcE Emkrali). It' I should do 
 
 As well as Pular bear<, and nioiikie> — 
 
 Prixce.ss Zou Zou {inrninij her heal away) You I 
 
 Prixce Emkrai-D. I want a comt'oiter, and also, socks. 
 You would'nt have so far to send the liox. 
 
 {Princess turns round f/uickh/ and f/ircs him hnlh her 
 hands.) 
 QuEKX Faiexck, What's to become of us? We want to 
 
 know. 
 pRixcE Emerald. The ja'oper thin,c:'s to ,i:^ive your 
 blessing. 
 {both Queens.) Oh! 
 
 {the Queens place their hands on the heads of their 
 children, melodramatically.) 
 
 {both together.) B-er-less you, my children ! 
 
 Merccry. Now it's all serene, 
 
 Let's understand each other. 
 
 Jupiter. What d'ye mean ? 
 
 Mercury {shoioing thunderbolts.) What shall we do with 
 
 all these little jokers? 
 
 Jupiter. Oh, turn the whole lot into kitchen pokers. 
 
 My temper'fs changed. I'm not myst'lf at all. 
 
 Coralina. Then welcome each one to the Shrimp King's 
 
 Hall. 
 
 {fairy 77iusic from " Oberon.^^ Scene slowly changes 
 to the 
 
 SiiRLMP King's Hall, 
 
 OR 
 
 The Coral Groves of the Enchanted Isle. 
 
50 
 
 Fijltte, the Fisher-maid. 
 
 {The Skrlmp Kimj in his jewelled car ^ centre, /airies^ 
 ad lib. posed on cither side, characters (jroupcd at 
 sides ; they form line in centre, in the Jbtlowiii(/ 
 order.) 
 
 Mercnri/, Juno, CoraUna, Jupiter, 
 Prince Emerald, Fifine, Fernando, Queen Bessina, 
 Princess Zou Zou, Queen Faience, 
 
 Sir Popinjay, Sir Irascible. 
 
 Final Chorus : — " Chickadee. " 
 
 Air " Upidee." 
 
 FiFiNK (solo.) Our play is done, but ero you go, 
 
 (chorus,) Tra la la. Tra la iai 
 
 FiFiNE. A little secret 1 will show. 
 
 (chorus.) Tra la la, la lay. 
 
 FiFiNE. In case your tempers run away, 
 
 Renieniber this une word we say. 
 
 (chorus — mysteriously.) Chicka dee, idee, ida, etc. 
 
 [coloured fires] and 
 CURTAIN. 
 
centre, /airicsy 
 
 rs (jroupcd at 
 
 the following 
 
 ter, 
 
 ?en Hessina, 
 leen Faience, 
 Sir Irascible. 
 
 you go, 
 
 , hi. Tra la la. 
 J. 
 
 la, lii lay. 
 I awav, 
 we say. 
 .', idee, ida, etc. 
 
 red fires} and