I Aj Aj oi 01 1 1 4| 21 41 o| 5 1 te^ 8 ^ PR 4859 L35T9 No. XCI. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA THE TWO FRIENDS. '2. Domestic Drama, IN TWO ACTS. BY ROPHINO LACY. NEW- YORK: SAMD E L F R E N C II , VI* NASSAC-SXKiiEX. rRICE ' 12J CENTS. CAST OF CHARACTERS AMBROSE M .. G. Barrett. HERBERT " Flynn. VALENTINE « McKinney ELEANOR Mrs. E. Knight. Robs. " Flynn. COSTUMES, MODERN. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper Entrrnce ; C. CcnUe C. D. Centre Door. g MBRAKY Y ^ c q UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA H 23 7 _^ SANTA BA1UJAUA THE TWO FRIENDS. ACT I. Scene I. — Front Chamber. Enter Rose, r. h. Rose. There's brother Ambrose busy, and Valentine ab- sent ; a very gay beginning, indeed, to any promised happi- ness. I cannot help wondering at what keeps Valentine so long to-day ; every other day, much before this hour, he has always been at my side, yet this day, of all days, the event- ful day, no less a day than my wedding-day, he is away ; very pretty conduct, indeed. I lose all patience, and I am sure if he delays much longer. I shall not greatly care, whether I am married or not I am neither apprised of one thing or the other. I dare say he wants to keep me in ignorance of everything before I am married. Well, I'll not be angry with him to-day. but I'll quarrel with him to-morrow for this, and that will be one consolation, {dock strikes ten) Ten o'clock, I declare. Monstrous! Oh, here he comes at last, the dear wretch ; I feel almost inclined to forgive him. Enter Valentine, l. h. Val. Ah, my dear Rose, I thought I never should have got here. Rose. And I should like to know what kept you so long? Val. Bless you, I've been to thirty different places, but I've such news about our marriage. I have been to the lawyers, and I have been to the parsons, and it's all arranged, all's fixed, and 2 o'clock is to be the identical hour. If we are a minute after that at the church, we shall be a minute too late. Rose. At two o'clock V that : s a long time to wait, Valen- tine! Val. Pho ! the time will soon pass away, our happiness will be complete, our fates will at last be joined, and oh, my lovely Rose. (Going to embrace lier.) 6 THE TWO FRIESD3. Rose. Now, Valentine, do behave, and be patient, will you 1 there will be plenty of time to show affection when we are married, you know. Val. Well, but Rose, let's be happy now, the time ap- proaches quickly, so let us keep up our spirits, and be merry and gay. Rose. Be gay indeed ! I wonder how you can talk of such a thing. I am quite nervous when I think of such a thing. Marriage is a very serious affair. I am very serious about it. I can think of nothing else. Val. That's just like me, for I can think of nothing else. I had no sleep last night, nor I can't remain two minutes to- gether in the same place. I've been all in a tremor ever since the day was fixed. Ah ! now the fatal hour is drawing nigh Rose. Hey ! the what, Valentine 1 Val. Fatal ! did I say fatal? Oh, no ; the rapturous mo- ment, I meant. Rose. Yes, Valentine, and if you have to go any where else, don't be out of the way at the time, but remember two o'clock. Val. Remember ! bless you I shall never forget it ; I'm 80 happy, that everything around appears to me like a dream. Rose. Indeed ! It must be a very pleasant dream then, I trust. Val. Oh, yes, very agreeable ! though 1 feel as if some- thing was the matter with my head ; it spins round, and I look at everything, but can see nothing, just as if I was asleep with my eyes open. Rose. Then I'll advise you to wake as fast as you can. Val. Oh ! I'll be bound that marriage will waken me ; but where is Mr. Ambrose, your brother ? Rose. Oh, he'll be with us in a minute or two. My dear brother, how kind he has acted towards us. Oh, I shall never forget how much I owe him. Val. And how much I owe him, too. I am indebted to him for all the happiness I now enjoy. Did he not give you tome? Oh, my sweet Rose. (Going to embrace.) Rose. Be quiet, Valentine, and leave me alone till after we are married. Ambrose is as you say, a dear, kind brother, and my heart does so ache when I think of leaving him. Val. What, your heart ache on your wedding day, Rose? THE TWO FRIENDS. 7 Rose. Why. you know a little regret is but natural. He has always supplied the place of a father to me. he loves me dearly, and being the only surviving branch of our family, he has, in every instance, consulted my most trifling wish, and this day I hope he has forever fixed my happiness, by giving mc to you. Val. Have you no other relative then than your brother Ambrose, Rose ? Rose. None. Our uncle, who brought us up. died in Russia, ten years ago, leaving to my brother his entire pro- perty, who then came to England and settled here, where you first became acquainted with me, you know. Val. Yes, and I don't want to know what I do know, but what I don't know, so tell me Rose, did your parents die abroad ? Rose. Alas, yes ! my brother often speaks of our misfor- tunes before we came here, having been very melancholy. I was too young for them to make much impression upon me. I scarcely remember their occurrence. All that I do know is that my father died in India, my poor mother perished at eea, and since their deaths my brother's attentive care has amply supplied to me the place of both my lost parents. Val. And now I'm to be your future guide and master. Oh ! bless you, I'll be such a husband. If you do all that I require, you shall have everything your own way, and when you wish for anything, and I have no objection to your having it. you shall have it, and we shall be as happy as the day is long. It's a long time to wait 'till two o'clock, Rose, but it will come at last. Rose. Oh ! I hope it will. I wish my brother was going to be married with us. What a delightful family wedding it would be ! Val. Ay, and how encouraging to see other people set us the example. Do you think he has any thoughts about mar- riage, Rose? Rose. Don't know what his thoughts may be, but I have long suspected there is a certain lady in the case. Val I know whom you mean ; the sister of Mr. Herbert, his partner. « Rose. The same, Miss Elinor. Val. Ay, Miss Elinor, oh, she is the most lovely and de- lightful woman in all the world, the most 8 THE TWO FRIENDS. Rose. Eh! What! What, Valentine / Val. No, no ; except you — except you, Rose. Rose Well. I think you might have remembered 1 was present. Val. Why, how cross you are, I shall be having you jeal- ous too. and fretful, I suppose. Rose. That depends upon how you behave yourself. I havn't forgot that you kept me so long waiting this morning. Val. There again ! Well, I didn't think you were so peevish. Rose. Then you shouldn't say anything to put me out of temper. Val. But you put yourself out of temper, and are angry and cross for trifles. Rose. Well, that shows that I love you. Val. Then I wish you would love me, without showing it. Rose. So I will then, and there {giving Iter hand) now we are friends again, and I'll not quarrel with you before two o'clock. V.al. Dear, oh dear. I am so happy ! Oh. here comes Mr. Ambrose. Enter Ambrose, r. h. Am. Well. Rose, well Valentine ; how's the market of love this morning? (Crosses to c.) Valentine, your hand. The day of joy has duly arrived, and in consigning my sister to you, I bestow on you the omnium of my life's comfort. Treat her as she deserves, and in the sum total of your felicity I shall endeavor to forget my own loss. Val. Dear sir, you are so kind and good that if I did not respect your sister for herself, I should for you. Am. Then this day shall be one of general happiness ; Lave everything ready ; be prepared, for the ceremony is to take place at two o'clock. Rose. Oh, dear brother, thank you. thank you. Val. Oh, law ! I wish the time was near. I am afraid if I remain idle, till then, I shall go almost out of my senses. Am. Then leave Rose to her preparations; go down to the harbor and enquire whether the ship, with our freight on board, is within sight yet. and then meet me and we'll com- plete the contract at the lawyer's, (retire up.) V al. I will, sir, (kisses her hand) Good bye, Rose, good bye. THE TWO FRIENDS. 9 Rose. Good bye {calling him back) Valentine ; remem- ber, two o'clock. Val. Yes ! and I daresay I shall. remember two o'clock after wo are married. [Exit Valentine, l. h. Am. He'll not forget, I warrant. In the mean time go on with your preparations, and I'll follow Valentine to the quay, and see about my ship. Rose. Ship ! oh brother, never care about your ship, what's the use of thinking of your ship 'till my marriage is over. Am. Not care about my ship ! only that your head is too full of matrimony to expect anything reasonable from you Rose. Well, well, I'll be patient now, and obey, {aside) After marriage tho', it shall be otherwise ! When you are out, shall you call any where else, brother? Am. Yes. I think I'll just step and see if friend Herbert's at home. Rose. And if lie shouldn't happen to be at home, don't forget to enquire after Miss Elinor, brother, (archly.) Am. (Smiling.) Go along with you, mind your own entries and don't meddle with mine. Rose. (Laughing) Well, good bye, 'till two o'clock, and remember to return early, brother, for you know I'm to be married exactly at two o'clock. [Exit Rose, r. h. Am. This will be a busy day, 'tis near eleven, at two Rose is to be married — that account will be closed and I left alone, a poor, solitary devil of a bachelor. I wish I was going to be married at the same time with the happy pair ; marrying in a party would make things look less desperate. Oh, Miss Elinor, I wish you were in the market, I'd bid sixty per cent, above the invoice price. I must make up ray mind at once ; there is no marrying without a little trouble, but if I can make up my mind to come strait to the point, if the delicious fruit should be obtainable— if she should say. yes, I'll become a subscriber in the book of Hymen, but should she say, no, I must e'en remain a bachelor, and turn up my nose at matri- mony like the rest of them. [Exit l. h. Scene II. — Room with open Centre Doors bached ; Burcau i l. h. u. e. ; Writing Materials, Pajxr. Ledger, Boohs. SfC. on table l. 2d e.; Chair, l; Table and Chair r; a Gold Chain on Bureau; £300 bill ; quantity of Bank Notes; Herbert discovered salted at table, l. h., reading -te, for it's a shocking thing to be kept so long waiting, and I do pity Valentine ! Am. Yes, he's very much to be pitied, poor fellow ! Come, Herbert, you are cashier, so hand over the needful. Her. [Taking gold chain from bureau) First permit Eli- nor and myself to present a wedding gift, to the bride, as a trifling token of our friendship. 18 THK TWO FRIENDS. Rose. Thank you. Mr. Herbert, thank you ! Oh, what a beautiful gold chain. Am. Why. Herbert, wi.at an extravagant rascal you are. Elinor. Oh, my amiable, generous brother ! Her. Nay. 'tis your gift. Elinor, not mine, for 'twas for you I purchased it. (retires xnd takes notes out of bureau ; em- ploys himself at l. h. table.) Am. Look there, now, he gives you a gold chain fit for an Alderman to be hanged in. because you're his friend's sister. What's his own sister to expect when she's married, I won- der % {crosses to c ) Hem ! Miss Elinor, it would be well for you to make up your mind, you have an excellent example before your eyes, if you would but profit by it and be married, too. Rose. Oh, yes, Miss Elinor, you must get married, {ad- miring chain) it is so nice; see how it shines, don't it? {crosses to c.) and when you are inclined to treat us with a wedding, you won't want for lovers. I can tell you. Am. No, I'll answer for that ! I know one that would be happy to . Her. {Uneasy at Ambrose's attention to Elinor) Corne, Ambrose, come and help me to look over this money. I don't know whether I have counted it right or not. Am. ( Goes to table, takes up notes, but lays them down again and comes down to Elinor.) And those whom I speak of, love you for yourself; as I may say for the excellent quality of the goods, and not on account of your brother's fortune. Her. {Uneasy) Now, Ambrose, I'm making up this account solely for you, and if you don't choose to assist me, I'll proceed no farther. Am. I'll come, directly; I'm coming, and (goes to table and returns) You'll think. Miss Elinor, of what I've said about a good husband at your leisure. Hem ! — and if you do make your mind up, I think I have one in my eye, that would exactly suit }"ou, to a tittle. Rose. I'll be bound I can guess the person. Am. I'll be bound you cannot. Rose. I know who. Am. You do not. Rose. Yes. brother. Am. No. sister. Her. Come, come. Ambrose, do make haste. THE TWO FRIENDS. 19 Am. (Going to table returns) You'll not forget. Her. Zounds, have done trifling ! when we have business in hand I think proper attention should be paid, at all events. Am. Well, well, I am paying attention to it ; what the deuce is the matter this morning? First the sister and then the brother, (goes to table) let me see, (counts notes) £1,700 in notes, and £300 in cash. I suppose. Her. Or what's the same, this bill for the amount, which I must receive from Scrapeall, the merchant. Rose. Oh, pray, pray, do make haste and get it, then, for Valentine's waiting at the lawyers all this time, and it will be soon two o'clock. What tiresome animals you merchants are! Am. And what tiresome animals you brides are ! Come, Herbert, despatch, and whilst 3'ou receive your cash at Scrape- all's, I'll look over the accounts and write an acquittal. Her. Zounds, there's a cashier there will detain me a whole hour. Rose. That's the very reason you should make more haste, and as you pass our door, Mr. Herbert, you can leave me at home. Run fast to the lawyer's, brother ! Good morning. Miss Elinor, remember two o'clock ; that's the hour I expect you ! Mind, not a minute later, for we are to be married ex- actly at two o'clock. [Exit with Herbert. Am. (Placing chairs) Hem! hem! To say the truth, Miss Elinor, I am not sorry I am left alone with you. Elinor. And may I ask why, Mr. Ambrose? Am. What a plump question ! Why, you see, Miss Elinor, I am a plain man of business, and I always make up my mind to go straight to the point. The little affair I want to speak to you about is this, I am an humble person, but I trust I have a good heart ; 'tis not a showy commodity, but of good quality, and on the average, as fair an article as any in the market. Elinor. Your heart, Mr. Ambrose, does credit to human nature ; it is great without pride, and noble without ostenta- tion. Am. It is, I hope, what an honest man's heart should be — errors excepted — Miss Elinor. I have no great ambition to appear what I am not. I am, as you know, the friend of your brother ; our partnership has flourished, business has 20 THE TWO FRIENDS. been excellent, but somehow I feel I am not quite so happy as I used to be. Elinor. How. Mr. Ambrose, not happy? Am. No — yes — that is — I find I want something I have not got, and I begin to think the article I require is a good wife. Now, if you have no particular objection, we may soon wind up matters to our mutual satisfaction ; for — for — you are the woman I love, and will suit mo to a tittle. Elinor. What, this from Mr. Ambrose? I can scarcely recover from my surprise ! make me an oflFer of marriage — so direct a proposal at once ? Am. It's my way of doing business. I don't like round about transactions ; you are now duly apprised of the con- tents of my heart, the rest is easily carried over. I am a safe man ; not here to-day and gone to-morrow. As to the situ- ation of affairs, I can safely say, that my future prospects are good ; my fortune is ample, my reputation unquestionable, and my heart wholly consigned to you, which if duly honored by your acceptance will render my happiness complete. Elinor. Mr. Ambrose, I scarcely know how to express my gratitude for the preference you have shown me, but why have you not spoken of this to my brother ? Am. No, I knew better than that ! your brother is my friend, fancies himself my debtor ; and if I had said to him, Herbert, I love your sister, he would have replied, " take her, she is yours." No, I determined first to ascertain your sen- timents ; so having made up my mind to come straight to the point, I thought to myself, I'll speak to Miss Elinor, and if she says yes, we shall soon wind up matters to our satis- faction, and bring the arrangement to a final settlement. Elinor. Mr. Ambrose, my frankness shall equal yours ; let me not lose your friendship, when I disclose to you, that I have no idea of marriage. Am. I see you love another. Elimor. No, were I to choose, you are the man I should prefer ; but I must add that I am anxious to remain with my brother, and can only respect you as his and my friend, no further. Forgive this frank avowal. I have no love for you, but shall ever esteem and regard you — in short, I have noth- ing to offer but my friendship. Am. Accepted ! your friendship then must satisfy me t {taking her hand) happy in what you have deigned to confer THE TWO FRIENDS. 21 (Enter Herbert; stops short at observing them) I shall re- member this kind avowal with gratitude, (liissa her hand.) Her. What do I hear? Elinor. My brother ! Am. So much the better ; ho will be delighted at the state of his dear friend, if you did but know Her. Leave me, sir ! Am. Did you speak to me ? Elinor. Brother ! Her. Be silent ! meddle with what concerns you. Am. Why, what the devil's the matter ? Oh, I know, I see. Nay, Herbert, you are so very particular ! If you are angry with me, for kissing your sister's hand Her. You are mistaken, sir — deceived ; my sister is her own mistress, and not answerable for her conduct to me. She may give car to any body — every body ; her behavior is to me perfectly indifferent — perfectly, perfectly. Elinor. What can this mean? Her. But what I am angry at, is having a partner hourly neglecting his business, {goes to table and looks at ledger) I thought it, I knew it ; the accouut is not balanced, the receipt not signed ; but you have doubtless had more pleasing and more important affairs to claim your attention. Am. Law, what a foolish quarrel is this ! Whether the re- ceipt is signed now or an hour hence, what does it matter ? Her. It matters everything — every day it is the same ; the most serious affairs are neglected, the most important con- cerns are left in confusion. Everything depends upon my entire guidance, whilst my gallant partner is throwing away his time with my amiable sister. Am. And it is at the end of seven years that you complain for the first time ? Her. Because there is an end to all things — because such conduct is unbearable, and not to be endured. Am. Come, come, sir, you are now assuming too much. Her. If my speech offends you. sir. you know your re- dress ; it is necessary we should come to a proper understand- ing. This day you shall receive the money I owe you, in addition to your share of the profits, and in future we will work no longer together. Elinor. Brother! Am. How ! 22 THE TWO FRIENES. Her. The thing must end ; when partners can't agree, it is better the}' should see one another no more. Am. What ! drive me from jour house, shut against me the doors that have been seven years open ? refuse me the hand which for seven years I have grasped in friendship? You cannot mean it. Her. I do mean it. My hand is withdrawn, my heart is closed, my door is open. Am. This to me, this to the friend, who — I could have suf- fered much — remember, Herbert, remember it is you that have forced me from your doors, (going.) Elinor. Nay, Ambrose, let me entreat you not to go — I conjure you to remain. Am. No, I have been a brother to him ; but, 'tis over. I trust I have a proper pride, and if ever I set my foot in these doors again. Her. So much the better. Elinor. Brother, for pity's sake ! Am. No. After such treatment, I should be a mean spirited coward to don't imagine I regret parting with you. Her. Nor I with you. sir. Am. No, no, I can readily find twenty friends. Twenty — twenty — (almost sobbing with agit xtionS dearer to me than you are. Her. Take them then, take them, and let me hear no more of you. [Exit Herbert l. h. r. e. Am. 'Tis done, 'tis over, and if ever I again set my foot within these doors may (going, sees Elinor) heaven bless you. Miss Elinor ; your friendship I shall ever cherish with kindness, with fondness — perhaps affection. Oh, heaven ! (Bursts into tears and rushes off.) [Elinor sinks into r. h, chair. [ENn OP ACT I.] THE TWO FRIENDS. 23 ACT. II. Scene I. — Front Chamber, Tible and chairs on. Rose discovered in IVcdding dress sealed at table r. Rose. Oh dear, how awful it is to wait the approach of one's wedding hour ! Will two o'clock never come ! I never long'd for any day to end so much as this. I should'nt wonder if I'm disappointed after all. Valentine does keep out of the way most unaccountably, and I must say his keeping me in this suspense, on my wedding-day, is most unhandsome, very unhandsome indeed. Now, I dare say, brother's not called at the lawyer's yet — poor Valentine's waiting there, poor Ro?e u waiting here, and it's very barbarous to be treated so. when one's married for the first time. We seem as if we were already man and wife — for we are never together. The only delight- ful occurrence as yet, has been the present of this beautiful gold chain. I wouldn't part with it for the world, that I wouldn't. Enter Ambrose, r. h. crosses to chair on l. of table. Puts down his hat, gloves, Sfc, in a ])assion. Am. I'll never speak to him again, never, never, never. Rose. Hey day, what's the matter now I wonder, he seem3 to be in a strange taking. Have you been to the lawyer's, brother 1 Am. Pish! Rose. Pish ! That's a very kind answer, on my wedding- day, I must say, when I'm going to be married at two o'clock. Am. Pooh ! Rose. Pooh ! well I never saw such behavior in all my life. — 1 won't be treated so, when £'m married, that I won't. [Ambrose pnta on his hat andis going. Rose. Where are you going, brother ? Am. No, no. I'll never go near him. never again. [Crosses back and stis. Rose. Where's Valentine ? Am. I'll never speak to him again. Rose. What. Valentine? 34 THE TWO FRIENDS. Am. A false, unfeelin^- Rose. Who. Valentine? Am. Dead to every sense of gratitude. Rose. Oh dear, oh dear! Do you mean my Valentine ? Am. Damn Valentine? Hose. (Screams) Oh ! he damns my Valentine ; he must be raving to damn my Valentine. In the name of patience, brother, do tell me what has become of him ? Am. I don't know, nor I don't care. Rose. You may not care, but I do though. I should like to know how I'm to be married without him. Am. Who's to be married ? Rose. Why, I'm to be married at two o'clock. Am You shan't be married. Herbert has treated me like a dog, turned from his door, me his best friend. Rose. I said I should'nt be married after all. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to go and quarrel on purpose, that I mayn't be married, but Iwill though, and I'll be happy, and ]'ll be gay. (Cries. Am. To turn me from his doors ! Rose. A pretty turn, indeed, to go and quarrel on my wedding-day. But now, brother, things may'nt be as bad as you say — you may be mistaken, you know. Remember how good Herbert was this morning, and how generous he pre- sented me with this gold chain, you know. Am. You shan't keep it, take it back. Rose. Oh ! what, my chain, my beautiful chain — I couldn't. Indeed I couldn't. Am. Go, this instant. Rose. I can't go out in my wedding dress, I can't, nor I won't. ' [Crying. Am. Go I say, return him his proud present, not one of my family shall accept the smallest trifle from one whose heart is devoid of friendship and feeling. Rose. Oh, oh, oh, it's very hard indeed, that I'm to pay fur your quarrels, I that never fell out with anybody in my life — you ought to be ashamed of yourself. It's cruel to make me cry on my wedding-day, besides it makes one look such a figure, it spoils one's eyes, and makes them look so red. [Crying.. [Enter Valentine, goes to Rose. THE TWO FRIENDS. 25 Val. Ah, my darling Rose — Why, what's the matter? what are you crying for ? Rose. I don't know, nor I don't care. Val. You are not crying because we are going to be mar- ried ? Rose. No, I'm crying because we are not going to be mar- ried. Val. Not going to be married ! (Goes to Ambrose.) What is the meaning of this, Mr. Ambrose? Am. What's that to you — what brought you here — who the devil sent for you? Val. I'm struck dumb. I did'nt expect to be surprised before marriage, but I suppose it's part of the ceremony, a sort of Freemason's trial. I have just been at the lawyer's, sir. Am. Then you may go back again Val. Go back, sir? I've been so often there already, that he swears if I come again, he'll indict me as a nuisance, but I thought after your kindness this morning ■ Am. I'm changed since the morning. Val. Your intentions are not changed, I hope ? Am. Yes they are. Val. And isn't this to be our day of happiness? Am. No. nobody shall be happy to-day, if I can help it— I'm miserable myself, and I'll make every body miserable about me Val. Amiable creature ! Rose. Never mind, don't say anything to him, Valentine, I never saw him in such a temper before. Now, don't speak to him. Val. Oh, but I shall though. I will, I'll let him know that nobody has a right to make you cry but myself. Rose. Now don't speak — I tell you it will only make him worse, I can't think what has come to him, he used to be so kind, and so mild, he must have been bitten by a mad dog. [Ambrose again going off, r. h. Rose. Brother, where are you going now ? Am. Nowhere ; do you go, nay no entreaties, you shall re- turn that bauble, I'm determined — obstinate ! [Retires. Rose. I know you are obstinate, and it's very cruel to vent your spite on two innocent young creatures, who expected to oe married at two o'clock. I say, Valentine, be sure you 26 THE TWO FRIENDS. don't go till I return. I'll run every step of the road, and be sure to be back by two o'clock. [Exit Rosu, r. Val. She's run away. I declare we are like two buokets in a well, we shall never come together. Poor Ambrose, if it is really as Rose says. I feel very nervous. Sir, have you been bitten by a mad dog ? [Ambrose looks up] Shall I run anywhere for you, sir ? Am. Run to the deviL Val. If you mean that I should go to the lawyer's, sir, had not you better come with me 1 Am. No ! Val. I have been to the quay, sir, as you desired me, and the adventure will be in the harbor this evening. Am. Let her sink — I care not— I was happy without rich- es whilst blest with friends, but now I find that prosperity is not happiness, and friendship but a shadow. Val. {ruminating ] Well, I hope it will be settled by 2 o'clock Am. Talk to me about two o'clock. I cannot remain here, I can scarcely breathe, and my heart seems as if it would burst my bosom. Val. Shall I go with you, sir? Am. Come within a mile of me, and I'll knock you down. [Exit r. Val. You must have a precious long arm then ; I have had trouble enough, to run into this family, and now if he continues in this humor, the safest thing I can do, is to run out again. I hope he'll be in his senses by two o'clock. If he don't come back, I'll run away with Rose, in spite of broth- ers, lawyers, or the devil, and I'll run and tell her so. [Exit r. Scene II. — Same as Act 1st. Herbert and Elinor, discove/ed seated. Herbert in l. chair, Elinor in R. Hkr. [rises and walks about agitated.] Friends, fine friends, traitors, to take advantage of the confidence which, iike an idiot fool, I reposed in them, to betray me. Oh, world, world ! where rogues and villains flourish, and guilt thrives best, the more it looks like honesty. To deceive me, THE TWO FRIENDS. 27 who day after day, left them together, and while I hugged them to my heart, they serpent like have stung me — but the fault has been my own ; I confided where I should have dis- trusted In tears, ay, you weep for his departure? El. Yes, and still more because I have seen my brother unjust and cruel for the first time. Her. 'Twas your own fault for deceiving me. El. Deceiving you ? Her. Deceive me ! you only infused "Wilford's offer, be- cause you secretly loved Ambrose, not that I shall hinder your choosing where, or whom you please ; but I feol hurt, stung to the heart's core, by your want of confidence. El. Can you then imagine — Her. You would probably make me believe, that on this spo*"-. he spoke not of love. El. Why should I deny it? Her. I heard it, saw it, I saw him kiss your hand. El. What you saw I deny not Her. Then I saw enough to convince me that he is a false villain, who sought to seduce you. El. He offered me his heart and fortune. Her. And I arrived at the moment, I suppose, when he thanked you for your acceptance of his heart and fortune. El. Hear me out, Herbert, he offered his heart, hand, and fortune, and you arrived just at the time that he was acknowl- edging his gratitude for my candor, and thanking me for my friendship. Her. He offered you his hand, and you told him — El. I told him I would accept him as a friend, but never as my husband. Her. How ! El. I added what you already know, that I did not wish to marry, that I was anxious to remain with you. I own I did not then think you so unkind and cruel. Oh ! Herbert, I never saw you so wicked before. Her. What have I done ? whither has passion hurried me ? Elinor, I am a wretch unworthy your friendship. Wronged Ambrose, how have I treated him. El. You have broken with him for ever. Her. No, no, El. Driven him from your house. 28 THE TWO FRIENDS. Her. No, no, I did not, could not, I will not believe it. El. Tlie friend of your bosom, to quarrel with Lira on such a day as this. The day of his family's happiness, the day on which he hoped to see all around him joyful, to send him from your house, oh ! Herbert. Her. Driven him from my house — my best friend — I was mad, Elinor, but I am so no longer. Do you think he will return ? Er.. Oh, no I am sure he will not — he has sworn never again to enter your doors, but were you to go to him. and holding out your hand to him thus, say. Ambrose, behold a repentant friend, your hands would be grasped again in friendship, and your hearts joined in amity and peace Her. I feel I ought to do so. but I dare not, after what has passed. I should shrink from him with shame. El. Then I will go. Her. My kind sister. El. I will say, Ambrose, I come from my brother, he grieves sincerely for what has occurred ; pray, pray, forgive him ; let us all embrace, and may every uukindness be for- gotten. Her What, embrace ! oh, yes, yes, you are right. Elinor, very right, but instead of going to him, suppose you were to write and fully express my contrition. I think it might cause an earlier reconciliation. El. As you please, dear brother, I will write then. Her. Do so ; I feel far from well, for I have been some- what overcome by the events of the morning, the air will — will perhaps restore me. [Going.] You will write? El. This very moment. You are not angry with me now, Herbert, are you? [Goes to Heklert. Her Angry with thee Elinor ! oh ! never, never. (Em- bracing Iter affectionately, but instantly receding ) 131ess you, Elinor, bless you. [Exit c. d. El. Now, what in the name of mystery can be the matter with him ? I never saw him so before. I feel somewhat strange myself, yet cannot tell why, but just now when he folded me with such fervor in his arms, I involuntarily shrunk from his embrace. I was very happy, but it seemed to me, as if I was doing wrong. Lord, what a fool I am, where can be the harm in embracing one's brother ! Well, 29 THE TWO FRIENDS. I must write my letter. But certainly I should like to know if all sisters feel so to their brothers. I'll question Rose about it. the first moment I see her. Oh, bless my heart. I'm chattering away and never thinking of my letter — positively, I will begin, and now for a great exertion of female effort — ■ I'll not open my mouth these five minutes. [At table l. h. Enter Rose, c. d. Rose, (crying.) Oh dear, oh dear ! who could have ex- pected this ! El. Why, my dear Rose, what has happened? Rose. You ought to know better than I. since you were by at the time. Brother Ambrose came home from your house in such a pet. But men's dispositions are shocking, they ought to be ashamed of their nasty tempers. They might have waited till the marriage was over. El. Be calm, dear Rose, all will shortly be settled. Rose. Yes, but will it be settled before two o'clock 1 El. Set your heart at rest ; Herbert has recovered his reason, and I hope Ambrose will accept his apology. Rose Hope indeed ! Hope is nothing at all. I don't know what Valentine mil think, poor fellow, he has his share of the sours ; you have no idea how my brother treated him, and he has commanded me to return the gold chain Herbert gave me. and I should very much like to know what occasion there is for that — I hav'nt quarrelled with your brother. El. My dear Rose, compose yourself. Herbert and Am- brose will soon be reconciled. I was just going to write to your brother. Rose. Oh, do try to make them friends before two o'clock, the wedding is positively fixed for that hour, and they may quarrel as soon after as they like, tell them. How came all this hurly-burly about, Elinor? El. I hardly know, myself. I was conversing with your brother, and I believe he was kissing my hand. Rose. Was that all, and did Herbert fall in a passion for such a trifle ? What a fool ! I'm sure my brother is a great deal kinder than that. Valentine might kiss my hand until he was tired, and Ambrose would not complain. El. Aud would it cause him no emotion ? Rose. Emotion ! oh, dear, no. or if it did, I never noticed THE TWO FKIENDo. 30 it ; but, Valentine, if any body ever looks at me, he's like a little lion, and he grows so big all of a sudden, not that that sort of humor makes me love him a bit the less, ob, dear no, for the moment he appears unhappy. I'm unhappy too. El. Ay, my good Rose, well, and you equally partake of your brother's sorrows, do you not? Rose. Ob, dear, that's quite another thing — I love brother very well, to be sure, but it's not at all like the affection I feel for Valentine. El. How ! is not fraternal love the best, the dearest, the tenderest. and strongest of duties ? and your brother, Rose, is he not the constant object of your thoughts ? Rose. Oh, no, I can't swear that he is ; to be sure, when he's in my mind, I think of him, and when he happens to be present, but my feelings for Valentine ' El. Valentine ! Rose. Oh, that's quite another thing. El. Now, but tell me, Rose, when your brother leaves you for two or three days — well then, do you not experience a sinking of the heart, accompanied with great uneasiness, and deep regret ? Rose. Not at all, for I always say, he's sure to come back again, but when Valentine goes. I feel alone, forsaken, as if I had lost every friend I had in the world. During his absence, day and night his image is always before my eyes ; then to shorten the time, I go and cry, and make myself mis- erable, and count the minutes and hours of his absence ; but when he returns. I feel so much joy and such rapture that makes me forget everything else, but himself, in the world. El. {Horror struck at the idea of her affection for Herbert being criminal.) Oh ! but tell me Rose, when your brother returns and embraces you? Rose. Oh, I'm not aware of it, but when Valentino does, oh, that's quite another thing. El. Explain ! Rose. Bless you, I can't well explain. First, I feel a sort of fluttering, my ears go buz, buz, and my heart beats pit pat, pit pat. as if I could not breathe, and sometimes I could cry, without a cause, or laugh without knowing why. El. Can it be? Rose. Why, there's nothing astonishing in it, and I'll tell 31 - THE TWO FRIENDS. you the reason — the reason is that I iove one as a brother, the other as a lover. El. Oh! Rose. Gracious powers, are you not well 1 El. Oh. unhappy wretch ! Rose. Dear Elinor, I hope I have not said anything to offend you. If I have given you any pain, I'm sure I did not mean it. El. No, no Rose. I thank you, I thank you; merciful heavens, what a dreadful light breaks in upon me ! I must not hesitate, ha ! there is one way, and 1 vnll not hesitate. Rose, will you endeavor to see your brother, and say I want to see him? Do you think he'll come ? Rose. Oh, yes, I am sure he will, for though he said he'd never come near this house again, ho was every moment tak- ing up his hat, as if he could not remain in his own. Now only see if I hav'nt said rightly — look, yonder he comes. Do you speak to him, Elinor. I don't like to meddle with him when he's in these grumpy humors. El, Leave us, leave us. Rose. I will, and now do you keep your promise, and try to get him in a good temper before two o'clock. If he should speak of the gold chain, say I brought it, and offered it to everybody, but nobody would take it. [Going, meets Ambrose. Am. What are you doing here ? Rose. I a'int doing nothing, brother. (Passes him indoor way.) I'll go and comfort poor Valentine till two o'clock [Exit Rose. El. Yes, yes, it is decided, (turning,) is it you, my deai sir ? Am. I walked out to take the air ; passing the door where I've been in the habit of coming daily, by accident I stepped in — pardon me for my mistake — and [going.) El. Nay, pray do not leave me. Am. I swore never to see Herbert again, but I did not say I would : nt see you, Miss Elinor ; no. I never vowed that, so I will remain whilst you wish it. El. Thanks, my sincere thanks. I was going to write and beg you to be reconciled to my brother. Am. What 1 after the manner in which he spurned me so THK TWO FHIENDR. 32 recently ; no, Miss Elinor. I can never again be Herbert's friend. El. Nay, but yon will. Am. Nay, but I will not. El. Censure his temper but not his heart. Am. To turn me out of his doors, me, his best friend ! El. He is sensible of his error, give it not a harsher term. Am. What! El. Penitent, and self-condemned, he would personally entreat your forgiveness — he feels the madness of his conduct, and would appear before you, to acknowledge his error, but dares not. Am. What, sensible of his error — where is he? El. He's not now within, but he will soon return, and then I hope we shall all be friends and happy. Am. Happy, ay as happy as the day is long — stocks are up again. Sensible of his error errors are always excepted. I long to shake hands with him. What a passion he was in, and all about nothing — I must see him — I : ll go to him. El. Stay one moment more, the better to see your recon- ciliation complete — aud that you may be better friends than ever. I have a request to make. Am. Why speak it ! all I have in the world belongs to you. El. You told me this morning that you loved me, that you wished to marry me. Am. It would have been the happiness of my life to have possessed you. El. Then hear me, if you still love me. if this poor hand has still any charm for you. take it, I give it freely, 'tis yours. Am. Now, don't laugh at me, don't jest, or you'll break my heart. El. I jest not, I am ready to become yours this week, to- morrow, to-day, if so it pleases you. Am. Oh, my happiness is so great, so unexpected ! Heaven grant me strength to bear it. but should you retract ■ El. Never, but here, (goes to tuLle and ic rites.) to remove all doubts, take this ; my name is signed to that paper, and be the contents what you please, I will fulfil them. Am Oh, I'm the happiest dog in the world, I'm afraid niy happiness will kill me. El. Be calm, I must add one condition. THE TWO FRIENDS. 33 Am Any thing you like. El. It is, that you ask my Drothor's consent. Am. I will. El. And should he hesitate ? Am. Ob, he won't hesitate. El. Ay, but should he, tell him I desire it, that it's my heart's wish — do you hear that ? Am. With my heart, as well as my ears. Stay, some one comes — 'tis he ! stay and hear how delighted he'll be. El. Oh. no, pray excuse me, (aside.) iu his presence my courage fails me. {Exit, Elinor. Enter Herbert. Her. My brother ! Am. My friend ! Her. Do you then forgive me 1 Am. To be sure, everything's forgiven, everything's forgot- ten, but on one condition. Her Name it. Am. That we never speak of what's past. Her. Generous man ! But I must tell you what I have suffered, and how happy I should be to prove the warmth of my friendship. Oh, that the means of returning the obliga- tion were in my power, that I might evince my gratitude. Am. Be happy, then, you have now an opportunity, my long- respected friend, of turning the scale, and throwing all the obligations on my side Her. Speak. (Takes AS s hand.) Am I love your sister, give her to me for a wife. Her How, Elinor? (Drops his hand.) Am. What, the devil, are you going to open a fresh account ? Her. Forgive me, Ambrose, I will deal openly with you, you are all that an honest man should be ; if I could <:ive you my sister, it would make me happy, very happy. I have the strongest friendship for you, but I think I know my sister's 6eDtiinents, and I will not, cannot constrain her inclinations. Am. Is that the only cause of your objection ? Her. The only one. Am. Be happy then, for 'twas Elinor's self that sent me to you. Her. What say you ? 84 THE TWO FRIENDS. Am. Tell him it is my wish, the wish of ray heart. Her. How? Am. She certainly did refuse me this morning, there's no denying it, hut the market's up again. She has given her own consent, and desired me to obtain yours. Why, what tho devil's the matter with you ? no further drawback, I hope. Her. She loves you, you are sure of it? She told you she would be yours ? Am. She told me she would be mine within this hour. Call her. and ask her. Her. No, 'tis enough. Elinor is yours, her portion has long been ready. Am. Burn her portion ! Do you think I want any thing from you after a gift like this ? I knew you would be delight- ed. I'll procure the license, and he married at the same time with Hose and Valentine, those poor dear children that I treated so harshly — hut they shall be happy and joyful now — it would be cursed cruel when a man's happy himself, to make others miserable. I'll return as brisk as a bee, a merry bridegroom, the license in my pocket, the favor in my button- hole, and the ring in my hand, my boy ! [Exit. Hkr. Can this be Elinor — Elinor who promised but an hour ago, never to leave me ! False, perfidious — no, no. I have no right to censure her. Ambrose is her heart's wish, her husband ! I am only her brother. She shall at least learn — and wherefore ? to part us wider still, to snap even the last tie that binds us. She shall to my death be ignorant of the secret I possess. Yes, Elinor, amid danger and blood I promised thy expiring mother, to watch over thy happiness, I have done so, even at the hazard of my own. and you. who confided her to me. take her to your own gua.rdian care — my oath has been fulfilled. She comes ! now up, heart, brave heart support me. Ente>- Elinor. El. {Much agitated.) Has Ambrose seen you ? Her. He has. El. Has he spoken to you ? Her. He has told me all, I have given my consent, and this evening you will be his wife. THE TWO FRIENDS. 33 El. ! Tis past then, 'tis over ! (Aside.) Her. One word only. I would not reprove you, but why not tell me the truth this morning ? — you then said you had no wish to marry. El. True, but now it is my wish. Her. And what has caused this change ? El. I cannot tell you. Do not ask me, 'tis the only secret I shall ever conceal. Her Elinor, you then no longer love me. El. Not love you? ah, not love you, Herbert? (Very tenderly, but instantly suppressing her warmth.) Brother, let it suffice that I wish to marry, and that I wish Ambrose, and none but Ambrose, to be my husband. Her. Ambrose is an honest man. may he make you happy. (Takes Parchment out of bureau.) There, Elinor, 'tis your fortune — I earned it — 1 saved it for you. This is not the use I thought to mako of it — no matter — 'tis your wedding- portion — take it. El. Ah ! brother ! Her. Would it were more, Elinor, for had I millions they should be yours. I need nothing now. Farewell ! be happy, and think sometimes of your brother. (Going. El. Herbert, whither go you ? Her. I know not j far away, on board the first bark that puts to sea. El. You abandon this spot for me then. I will go with you. Her. Too late, too late ! El. No, no. I will go with you ; I will never part from you. Her. And Ambrose? El. I care not. Her Your love, your intended husband ? El. My duty is to follow you. Her. Elinor, listen, and one word will root you to the spot — learn the truth — a truth concealed for years. You have hitherto known me only as your friend, only as your brother — El. (Horror-struck at the idea of his beiig about to declare a criminal love.) Ah, finish not, fly, leave me ! Her. Yes, I will fly, Elinor. The love that fills my heart — 00 THE TWO FRIENDS. El. (With averted face and shuddering.') Go, go. Her. May wear roe to the grave, but I will still pray for your happiness with fervency — and since I must leave you, since we roust part forever, know that he who leaves you is not your brother. [Exit, c. d. El. (In joyful ccstacy.) Ha! Enter Ambrose, c. r>. Am. The license is here ! El. ( Utters a shriek and falls senseless on the stage ) Am. Elinor, revive, revive! (Raising her) What can have occured so suddenly ? Herbert, Herbert ! Elinor, speak, speak to roe I El. What's the matter ? What has happened ? Am. Compose yourself, your friends are near you ; your brother will soon return. El. Who? {Collecting her thoughts.) Am. Your friend, your brother. El. He is not my brother. Am. Well, don't be angry with him ; if he has behaved un- like one. you will forgive him. He is gone but tor an instant, he will soon return. El. Oh. no, he will never come again ! Am. Never come again ? El. No, he has gone from me forever ! Am. Nonsense, he'll be here directly. I'll calx him back. I'll insure him at any risk. I have to receive you from his hand. El. Ha! Am. {Runs for a chair.) You are still faint. Then sit down and revive your spirits. I'll follow your brother — he loves you beyond any being in the world — he's not gone far. I'll fiud him — I'll tell him you are sick, you are dying — I'll tell him you're already dead. I'll bring him directly. [Exit c. El. Oh, miserable, miserable Elinor! why too late have you been told the fatal secret ! Too late ! too late ! Must I then be another's. Never, never! No. Herbert, no, my only thought. I have ever been thine, and will be thine alone. THE TWO FRIENDS. 37 Enter Ambrose and Herbert. El Ah. he conies, ray own beloved Herbert. (Embraces) Am. Ay, (here he is. be happy ! Her Heard I aright — beloved — beloved by Elinor? El, Yes, Herbert, since you have discovered to me that you are not my brother, I will no longer conceal the secret of my soul, but own that you are the adored possessor of my love. Am. (Astonislied and agitated.) How ! not your brother, the possessor of your love ? El. Oh, sir ! Her. Calm yourself, Elinor — speak not — be mine the task to answer for my conduct. Am. What is it I have heard? Her. The truth. Am. You are not her brother? Her. I am not. Am. You love her? Hun. More than life. Am. Herbert, you called me friend, yet you have deceived me ; you received all my confidence — all your confidence has been withheld. I could have forgiven you } r our anger, I could have forgiven you my blighted hopes, but to have ex- posed me to the torture of makiDg you both miserable, that I never will forgive. Her. Hear me. Ambrose. Am. I won't hear a word, (crosses to c.) By this promise, this written promise she is mine — mine. Her. Stay,Ambrosc, you shall not stir ; by the honor and faith of man, you leave not this house with rancor in your heart. Am. Stand back, our friendship's over. Her. Ambrose, I swear — Am. Why was not this secret disclosed before ? Her Bear with me. Ambrose — I couldn't. Years ago, justice urged me to disclose all, and tell Elinor herself, tnat she was not my sister, but I could not endure to renounce the dear tie that perhaps would have parted us forever. Accus- tomed to have her near me, she became necessary to my hap- piness. As she grew up. the fear of a disclosure kept me still 38 THE TWO FRIENDS. silent, and longer might this concealment have lasted but for the events of this day. Am. If not your sister, who is Elinor 1 who are her rela- tives 1 Her. I know not. I received her from the arms of her mother, fourteen years ago. Am. From whom 1 Her. Her only surviving parent. Am. Go on ! El. Proceed, Herbert; pray, proceed. Her. Fourteen years ago, I began my wild career of lifo on board of a privateer. I was perhaps the wildest and most reckless youth in the service. Feared by my comrades for my boldness, and disliked for in}' superiority, I was on the point of falling a victim to treachery, when one day we board- ed a Galleon, richly laden. The action was terrible, and in the moment of victory the conquered ship became a blaze of fire. Led by a female shriek, I darted into the cabin and snatched up a woman with a child in her arms, apparently four or five years old. The flames came rapidly on the magazine, which rendered further assistance to those on board, hopeless. The vessel was abandoned to the devouring ele- ment, and in a few moments her disjointed planks floated on the water. Am. Fourteen years ago, say you ? Her. Fourteen. The woman I saved was evidently dying. She called me to her side, and inquired, " Brave youth, who are you ?" Herbert, a simple sailor "Herbert, I bequeath my daughter to you, she will shortly be an orphan, she has relations in Russia, this small casket contains information of them. Abandon her not, be to her a protector — a brother — and forget not that a day will come, when an account will be required at your hands." Am. Where is that casket? Her. Lost, in the confusion of the moment it fell over- board I looked upon the dying mother, as she implored Heaven's blessing on her child, and became from that moment a better man. I disembarked with my little treasure on my arm— I called her sister, and for seven years all I gained in my sea cruises was devoted to her education. She was about ten, and I twenty-three, when we became acquainted with you, you. my only friend — with whom for upwards of seven years we have lived in happiness and friendship. THE TWO FRIENDS. 39 Am. Herbert, tell rue, what was the name of the conquered ve=sel 1 Her. Name, let me remember. Am. Was it the Argonaut ? Her. It was. Am. Merciful heaven ! Her. Ambrose, my friend, why this agitation? Am. In that very vessel, fourteen years ago, my mother, with her female child, and all on board, was reported to have perished. Oh, that some clue would lead to the disclosure of Elinor's real name ! Her. That is hopeless. {Goes to the bweau and takes out pappr and miniature.') In case of my death I had written down here, every particular of that dreadful hour, — this min- iature was round Elinor's neck. Am. {Taking it.) 'Twas her mother's. (Crosses to El- inor.) Elinor, sister, sister ! rightly did nature incite me to love you. Herbert, bless you. bless you, for this gift. Her. Ambrose, I cannot speak, the brother of my friend* ship, the woman of my adoration. I am supremely happy. [Ready to strike ttoo o'clock. Enter Rose and Valentine, c. d. Rost:. 'Tis two o'clock, brother, the coach is at the door, make haste, or we shall not be married at all. Val. I shall die if you don't be quick. Am. Rose, I have lost a wife, but I have found a sister. Rose. A sister ! dear, I'm so happy. Am. Ay. Elinor, she is our sister. [Ladies embrace. Val. Well, I declare, that's another surprise, on my wed- ding-day. El. Oh ! my brother ! my husband ! now my lot i„- blessed indeed. Am. Herbert, nobly have you deserved my sister. There, she is your's — we shall be brother's still, you see ; your Elin- or is mine, my Elinor is your's. May our partnership flour- ish, and guided by the Rule of Three, may our accounts be duly kept, our products multiplied, and let us still hope to maintain the credit of this our old established house, so that the public at large may not refuse to answer our drafts, when they see at the bottom of our bills the joint names of the THE TWO FIUKND3. 40 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS. > CURTAIN. UC SOUTHtHN KtlalUNAL UDHHH A A 001 424 065 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORN Santa Barbara STACK COLLECT THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LA STAMPED BELOW.