NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 b 
 
 [15 CTS. 
 
 iHlLACTING DRAMA, 
 
 No. 55. 
 
 FIFTEEN YEARS OF .1 
 
 DRUNKAED'S LIFE. 
 
 y E W YORK; 
 H.\PPY nOUHS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS- 
 
 No. 1 C'liAMurus Stkket. 
 
 A Catalo^e of Plays, giving the number of acta and characters, costumes an dscenery 
 required, and time of representation of each, will be sent free to any address. 
 
How We Manapi Our YMi TIealricals. 
 
 In which will 111- found pliiin (lircciidiis for I he ciuiMtnu'tiim ami iirriinjc<-ni(ut of 
 the Stage, paintiiifT the Scenery, ^'ettinp up the Oistumes. mukinf,' the Properties 
 and Accessories. Hints on Stage Effects, full and complete instructions for makicg 
 Calcium Lights, etc., etc., with numerous illustrations and diagrams. Tti which is 
 added " Penelopk Anne," a roaring furce for homo- pi'rfonnu nee. i'Tepared for 
 tlie use of schools, jirivntc families, and dramatic clnbe. Price '45 Cents. 
 
 Tie Actor's Art. 
 
 Its Keqaisit'CS and how to obtain thera. its Defects and how to remove them. 
 Containing clear and full directions i,i every branch of the Art: with complete and 
 viUnable instructions for beginners, relative to rehearsals, entrances and exits, gen- 
 eral hint-6 on action, qualities of voice, etc., etc. In short, an indispensable book to' 
 the amateur. Price 15 Cents. 
 
 Parlor Talileafii ; or, Aniiatei Pictures. 
 
 For the use of Families, Schools and Public Exhil)itions. Containing about eighty 
 popular subjects, with plain and explicit directions for arranging the stage, dress- 
 ing-room, lights, full descriptions of costumes, duties of stage manager, properties 
 and scenery required, and all the necessary directions for getting them up, so that 
 any one can act in them. Everything is stated in a plain, simple manner, so that it 
 will be easily understood ; everything like style or unnecessary show has ben avoid- 
 ed, in order that all may readily grasp at the author's meaning. 
 
 For public or private entenainment. there is nothing which is so interesting and 
 instructive as the tableaux. Price 35 Cents. 
 
 Sliaiof PaBtoiDies; or, Harlepln in tie Siafle. 
 
 How to get them up and how to act in them ; Avith full and concise instructions 
 and numerous Illustrations. Also full and complete descriptions of properties and 
 costumes. It has been the aim of the author to provide harmless home amusement 
 for old and young, excluding everything objectionable to sound morality and good 
 home training. By Tony Denier, Pantomiraist, author of "Tony Deuier's Parlor 
 Pantomimes," " Amateur's Guide," etc. Price 85 Cents. 
 
 The Stup Spealer. 
 
 Being a collection of CoMiic Six-eches and Iteeitntions, Burlesque Orations, Stump 
 Speeches. Laughable .Scenes, J I umorons Lectures, Button-Bursting Witticisms, Iti- 
 diculous Drolleries, Funny Stories, etc., etc., translated into the four modem lan- 
 guages — Yankee, Dutch, Irish, and Ethiopian — for the convenience of the public at 
 large. Price 1.5 Cents. 
 
 Ventrllopism Made Easy, and Tlie SecoM-Siglit Mystery, 
 
 .\s ])racticed liy Roiterl llellcr and otlieiN. fully exjilained. In this lilih' voluiiic w 
 place all the w<in<»rs <if \'KNTitii>f>yi:i6M at the command ol our young friends. 
 
 Price -45 Cents. 
 
 Either of the above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of the 
 price, by 
 
 HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, 
 
 No. I Chambers St., New York. 
 
UCSB LIBRARY 
 FIFTEEN YEARS 
 
 O F A 
 
 DRUNKARD'S LIFE. 
 
 A MEL0DRA3IA, 
 
 BY 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD, ESQ. 
 
 NEW EDITION, REVISED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 COBBECTI-y PRINTED rBOM THE PROMPTEB's COPY, WITH THE CAST OF 
 
 CHARACTERS, COSTUMES, SIDES OF ENTRANCE AND EXIT, 
 
 BEIATIVE POSITIONS OF THE DRAMATIS PER- 
 
 60N;B, PROPERTY PLOTS, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, 
 
 No. 1 CHAMBERS STREET. 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive 
 ■ in 2007 witli funding from 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fifteenyearsdrunOOjerriala 
 
FIFTEEN YEAES OF A DRUISTK- 
 AED'S LIFE. 
 
 CAST OF CHABACTEES. 
 
 London Theatres. Burton's Theatre, N. Y. 
 
 Vernon ...•.<••.• 4, Mr. Cobham. Mr. G.Jordan, 
 
 Glanville " Gann. " Dyott. 
 
 Franklin " Wynne. " Bland. 
 
 DoGROSE " Sloman. " Johnstone. 
 
 CopSEWOOD " H.Williams. " Burton. 
 
 Juniper " Mortimer. 
 
 Pounce " Worrell. 
 
 WiNGBiRD.. " E.L.Lewis. 
 
 Butts, (Servant.) " Porteus. 
 
 Banker's Clerk 
 
 LANDLORDi- 
 
 Picklock " ELsgood. 
 
 First Thief 
 
 Alicia Miss Watson. Mrs. Russell. 
 
 Miss Vernon Mrs. Lewis. 
 
 Isabella " Congrcve. 
 
 Pattv Miss Tomlinson. 
 
 Lady and Gentlemen Visitors, Bailiffs, Robbers, Villagers, &'c., &'c. 
 
 Time of RepreseivLodion. — Two Hours and a Half, 
 
 Scene. — England. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 Vernom.— .RrVrf dress : A riding costume. Second dress ; Full modem dress. 
 Third dress : Suit of black. Fourth dress : A dress of mere rags. 
 
 Glanville. — First and second dress ; Modern dress. 
 
 Franklin. — The same. 
 
 DoGROSE. — First and second dress : A livery. 
 
 CopSEWooD. — First dress : That of a farmer. Second dress: That of a poor 
 peasant. Third dress : Gray ragged jacket and breeches. 
 
 Juniper. — First and second dress : That of a poor peasant. 
 
 PouNE. — Suit of black. 
 
 Wingbird. — That of a sportsman. 
 
 Butts. — Livery. 
 
 Banker's Clerk. — Walking suit. 
 
iV 7IFTEEM TEABS OF A DBTTNKABI> S UnS. 
 
 LAKDLORD.^^oat, breeches and apron. 
 Picklock. — Jacket and breeches. 
 
 Alicia. — First dress: Morning gown. Second dress: Brown gown. Third 
 dress : Black. 
 
 Miss Vernon. — White frock. 
 Isabella. — ^The same. 
 Pattv.— Dress of a nistic girl. 
 
 PKOPERTIES. 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Sofa, l. Table, with cover, and chairs r. Long muslin curtains to 
 window c. Two candles, burnt down to the sockets. Riding whip. 
 
 Scene II. — Loaded gun. 
 
 Scene III. — Furniture same as in Scene I. Salver with card on it for Servant to 
 bring on s.E.R. Decanter, wine glass and goblet at wing, s.E.R., the wine glass to 
 breaJc. Banker's check. Several deeds and papers, accounts, &c. Large bunch of 
 keys. 
 
 Scene IV. — Brandy flask. 
 
 ScENK V. — Handsome furniture — sofas, tables, chairs. Colored lamps lighted and 
 fixed over the Scene and grounds beyond. Decanters of wine, dessert, and wine 
 glasses on table R. Masks "or Characters Dominos for the same. Bag of money. 
 Pistols. 
 
 Five years elapse between the first and second acts — change costumes. 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene T.— -Plain table, with cover, l. Chairs. An easel, with a small picture on 
 it, R. Colors, brushes, &c. Purse. 
 
 Scene II. — Stick. 
 
 Scene 111. — Tables, with covers, r. and i_ Four chairs, with covers. Bottle of 
 spirits. Three glasses. Spirit flask. 
 
 Scene IV. — Chair behind door in flat, R. Decanter of brandy and two glasses be- 
 hind flat, L. 
 
 Scene V. — A dagger knife. Pistol to fire. Pocket-book. 
 
 Ten years elapse between the second and third acts— change costumes. 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — A Peddler's pack. Flask. Wine. Tin money. 
 
 Scene II. — Inn tables r. and l. Rustic chairs. Drinking horns on table. Pipes, 
 &c. 
 
 Scene III. — B.-isket of wine. Brandy flask. Straw oflf wing l. Gimlet. 
 Scene IV. — Two bottles. Loaded pistol. Dagger. 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
 
 L., means first entrance left. R., first entrance right. S.E.L., second entrance 
 left. S.E.R. , second entrance right. T.E.L., third entrance left. T.E.R.. third 
 entrance right. U.E.L., upper entrance left. U.E.R., upper entrance right. C, 
 centre. L.C., left of centre. R.C., right of centre. C.L., centre towards left. 
 C.R., centre towards right. D.F., door in flat. L.F., left of flat R.F., right of 
 flat. Observing you are supposed to face the audience. 
 
FIFTEEN YEARS OF A 
 DRUNKARD'S LIFE. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene L — Braicing Room in Vernon's House. Door s.e.b. D-ench 
 toindow, c, bucked by garden. Sea and shipping in the background. 
 The ca)idles in the sockets. Time, morning, lights half down. 
 
 DoGBosE discovered lying asleep on the sofa, l.— knocking without. , 
 Enter Fbankun, s.e.k. 
 
 Ii\anklin. What! no one stirring yet, and broad day? (Seeing 
 X)oGB08E, L. ) Why tUe knave is asleep. (Shaking him. ) Bouse up, 
 you liizy rasciil ! ronse yourself ! 
 
 Uogrose. (Waking.) Yes, sir — j'es, sir — coining! here's your 
 slippers, sir — and here's your dressiug-gown — and here's — (Jumping 
 "ff .•>'»/■(() — ill, bless me! I beg j'onr pardon, sir — I thought it was 
 xuy master. 
 
 Frank. It is well for you that I am not, I take it. He would not 
 bo pleased to find his servants sleeping. 
 
 l)oij. (L.) Seeping! ah, sir — I have watched all the night like a 
 miser over his money-chest — my ears have been pricked up fike a ter- 
 rier's for the thunder of the knocker. Night after night, I waste my- 
 self away to the light of two mould candles — and what's the return? 
 If my master goes on thus, he must get a lynx to watch for him — I'll 
 sit up no longer. 
 
 Frank, (u.) What ! is Veruon,out? 
 
 Dog. The— the old game, sir. The bottle— the bottle. (Sighs. 
 
6 TOPj-JCKS XBABS of a DnUNEABD's UTE. 
 
 Ii)-ank. Mad, infataated yoiuig man ! so faithfullj' as he promised 
 to reform. 
 
 Dog. Promised ! bless j'ou, sir, I've beard bim renounce wine a 
 Imudred times a day— but tben it has been between as many gliisses. 
 He never takes an oath but he settles it with a bumper. 
 
 Frtaik. Some desperate effort must yet be made to save him. 
 
 Dog. I know but one, sir — destroy all the vineyards — demolish all 
 the distillexs, and cry down the txa^e of brewer as wicked and un- 
 lawful. (Knock loiUiont, B. 
 
 D-ank. Eh ! who comes here — Vernon's attorney ? (Looking b. 
 
 Dog. Yes, sir, it is the attorney Pounce. 
 
 MUer PoTJNCE, s.e.b. 
 
 Pounce. Good morning, Mr. Franklin. ( Grosses to c.) Dogrose, 
 is your master stirring ? 
 
 Dog. (L.) Stirring? No, sir, I dare say he's pretty qniet by this 
 time. 
 
 Pounce. Quiet ! bless me ! What ! not dead ? 
 
 Dog. (Aside.) No ! unless it is that he's dead drank. 
 
 F)-ank. (b.) Not defunct in law, Mr. Pounce — but what basiness 
 have you with Mr. Vemou ? 
 
 Pounce. Pardon me, an attorney is always conscience-keeper to 
 his clients. 
 
 li-ank. When men trust their consciences to such keepers, is it to 
 be wondered at, if they are returned soiled ? Now mark me, Mr. 
 Pounce, I have my suspicious. 
 
 Pounce. Suspicions ? I'm a lawyer, sir, and snap my fingers at 
 them. I've lived in the teeth of suspicion all my life. (Snaps his 
 fingers. ) Pooh ! 
 
 Fiank. Aye, so long ; that suspicion has had time tb grow into 
 proof. 
 
 Pounce. This is scandal, sir. Dogrose, you're a witness, you 
 heard all this? 
 
 Dog. Not a syllable. When your character is the subject of con-* 
 versation I stop my ears. 
 
 Pounce. Why? 
 
 Dog. I've a natural aversion to bad language ; and when your 
 reputation comes out, I know what must follow. 
 
 Vernon. ( Myuhout, c. ) Hallo there ! Dogrose I William ! Mary ! 
 
 Dog. There's my master ! ( Relives tip l. 
 
 Vebnon rushes in, dressed as if he had been riding, a whip in his hand, 
 his clothes covered with mud, and his whole appearance indicating the 
 dissoluteness of the past night, frovi c. window. 
 
 Ver. ( Tel labormg touiei- the effects of intoxication. ) So — at home 
 at last. ( Throws himself on sofa, l. 
 
 Pounce. (With the greatest servUiiy.) Good morning, Mr. \qx- 
 non— fCVosses to sofa, l.)— shall I take your whip? 
 
FIFTEEN YEABS OF A DBUNKAEl) a iJ.Fii. 7 
 
 Ver. (Cutling him with U.) Yes, ttike it— now you've Rot it— 
 XnacL obliged for jour politeuess. Now I see your iuk and parcli- 
 meut countenance, I remember I've some busiuess with yon — go into 
 the library — dou't tliiulc I'm drunk — no, no — I cau nign my name 
 
 with a flourish— with a flourish— F. Vernon— F.—F. 
 
 (Relapsing ialo insensibilily, he stands llstlessli/ Irucinj his name 
 upon the stage loUh the handle of /us whip. 
 
 rounce. ( Chuckles aside, ci-osses to b. ) He's iu an excellent con- 
 dition — I have the papers already drawn up, ami his signature will 
 secure all. ( Exit b-^-h. 
 
 Dog. ( Carefully approaching Vebnon, r..c.) Master ! 
 
 Ver. Dogrose — eh! why haven't you caught her? Oh, I'd for- 
 got ! — ha ! ha ! I hadn't told yon — ^just as I got up to the door, I slid 
 off the saddle, and the mare set away at full gallop. Go ! Here ! 
 Catch the whip, (throics the lohip, rohich Doqkose catches) then catch 
 her. There, don't think I'm intoxicated. (Aside. ) Only drunk — 
 dead drunk. (Fulls on sofa — exit Doobosb, 8.k.b. 
 
 I')-ank. (L.C.) Vernon! 
 
 Ver. (L.) Franklin! my old monitor — now no sermons— I've my 
 pocketbook fall of scraps in favor of sobriety— I always read them 
 over my wine. Now dou't talk, for I know what you're going to 
 say. 
 
 Fi-ank. Nothing--! fear me you are past the cure of lectures. 
 
 Ve): Lectures ! Frank, you've no heart for generous wine ! Now 
 there was last night, honest Tim Gl.mville, Brightly, myself and 
 others — how much do j'ou think we murdered? Guess! You can't 
 — you haven't iiuugiiiation enough. A cool two dozen, old boy. 
 (Slaps him 0)i the shoulder.) We four gentlemen sat down to two 
 dozen. 
 
 Frank. Pray as you sat down as gentlemen, under what chan^cters 
 did you arise ? 
 
 Fej". f Laughs. ) What that to yon ? But it's all over — I shall re- 
 form — I shall give it up— it will ruin my constitution— and my wife 
 Alicia too- -yes, I must give it up — give 'em both up— hie. I said so 
 at the couelusion of the fifth bottle — said I, gentlemen, this is too 
 bad, I'm afraid we're getting drunk— but this is the last ; to be sure 
 we had another, but I shall give it up. (Sits on the sofa. ) I shall 
 give it — how my throat's parched — I must have one glass more. 
 
 Frank. One more, when you have tliis instixnt forsworn wine? 
 
 ['er. Yes, that is, wine as wine — but this — this 1 take as medicine. 
 One more glass to put me right for the moiuiug. Here, Dogrose! 
 ( (Jails n. ) Dogrose ! 
 
 Enter Doobosb, s.e.b. 
 
 Dog. Sir ! what is it? 
 
 Ver. A bumper of Burgundy, quick ? 
 
 Dog. Yes, sir, directly. ( Going :bu 
 
 FtanJe. Dogrose, stay ! (Doobose stops. ) Stay where yoii are. 
 
8 FIFTEEN TE&B8 OF A DSUMKABD's LIFE. 
 
 Ver. C Angry.) What! Lave I no command in my own house? 
 The Bnrgiiiidj' ! Isn't he my domestic? Am I not his master? 
 Haven't I a right 
 
 Frank. No ! what right have you to pnt a livery upon your fellow- 
 man, and call him sei-vaut, when you are the most abject shive to 
 your own passions, and would like to make him a lackey to your 
 VI IS despotism? 
 
 Ver. ( Chnckling. ) Ah, yes, you are a good fellow— yon mean 
 well — but I must have the Burgundy ; now let hiiu get me one glass. 
 Go, go, Mr. Franklin will let you get me one glass— only one glass. 
 No wine — medicine — one glass of medicine — onlj' one — only one ! 
 
 (Fulls into a siupoi- on the sofa, i* — Fbankun and Doobose 
 attending him. Music, and ihe scetie doses. 
 
 Scene II. — View of the Country. Froyit landscape in second grooves. 
 Enter Winqbibd, with a gun, followed hy Jcnipeb. b. 
 
 Wlnghird. (uc.) Go away, go awaj", my good man, I can do very 
 well without 3'ou. 
 
 Jii)iii>er. (B.C. ) What ! and you won't give me so much as a groat 
 for showing you where the game lies ; not a groat to get my morn- 
 ing's whet? 
 
 Whig. Whet, frllow ! drinking thus early and the snn hardly up? 
 
 Jan. Yes, I know that, but I like to get beforehand with my work. 
 (Wilh cap in hand.) Now a groat, your honor. 
 
 Wing. Not a farthing ; call and see me in the evening. 
 
 Jan. See you in the evening ! "What do you take me for? I have 
 never been able to see anybody after twelve o'clock at noon for tliese 
 three years. Yon won't give nie anything? Well, never mind ; I'll 
 mortify myself and keep sober for these two liours ; I'll — I'll — 
 (Snatches a hnndkercliief from Wingbibd's packet— spe(tkx aside.) 
 This will bear a gli\.ss —one gLiss, or the devil's in it ; some people 
 woidd say this is a robbery, I cidl it a loan. (Chuckles asuie. 
 
 Wing. What are jou muttering about? 
 
 Jiiii. Preaching patience to my throat, your honor. And now to 
 Mast, r Kilderkin, at the Nag's Hwul. (Exit b. 
 
 WiiKj. Well, liere I am — my fii.st appearance with a gun. I see 
 no game j'et. ( Lnoks off' i..) Eh ! yes, tiiere's something very like 
 a i>iirtri«Ige — no it's a turkey. Ah! tiiere's certainly a ceck pheasant 
 through tlie trees — no, it's ribbons in the hat of a recruiting sergeant. 
 There's a black cat sleeping among that straw ; nobody's near— for 
 want of better sport I'll just see how a cat cairies swan-shot. 
 
 (Presents his piece and fires off stage, e. 
 
FIFTEEN YKAB8 OF A DBUNKABD S LIFE. 9 
 
 CoFszvrooD jumps on/vom s.rb. 
 
 Copse. (luC.) E'alliallo! ( Singfjens over to -u 
 
 Wing, (v-i.'.) Wliiit ! ii man ! Bless me, sir, you ure not killed? 
 
 Copse. Killed! What ! by such a marksmau us you ? (Laughs.) 
 Why, you wouldn't Lit a goose at a yard distant. 
 
 Wing. (Aside.) So it should seem, for I have just fired at o;ie. 
 (Aloud.) But I say, you are sure j'ou Lave no shots in you? — 
 shake yourself ! Bless me, I hope I haven't carried part of your coat 
 and waistcoat away ? 
 
 Copse. ( Whose clothes are turn to tatters a?td hedanhed wiUi mud.) 
 No, no, I recollect it all now. 
 
 Wing. Excuse me, my friend, but there looks something like four 
 in the morning written about your clothes ; j'ou don't look like cue 
 ■who put his night-cap on at nine o'clock last night. 
 
 Copse. Night-cap ! No, the truth is, I did take a little ; I sold my 
 corn well at the market, and so for luck's sake I— I-^you understand. 
 The night was confoundedly dark, and so I thought I'd sit it out till 
 morning ; when the morning c.ime, egad, I was dark ; I thought I'd 
 crawled into bed, but there, you see, was my sleeping chamber on 
 yonder straw rick (Pointing off, s.e.l. 
 
 ^Vlllg. Yes, verj' prettj' furnished lodging for single gentlemen. 
 
 Copse. You are come, sir, I presume, for the sporting season? 
 
 Wing. Yes, I've been taking lessens in town on purpose. I can 
 bring down anything. 
 
 Copse. Can you? I wish you'd bring down the taxes. But for 
 lessons — where did you take lessons? 
 
 Wing. Why, at the hair-trigger academj'— rudiments of duelling 
 displayed on scientific principles. There are two or three schools of 
 the kind in Loudon, where young gentlemen are taught to bring down 
 sixpenses at forty paces, preparatory to shooting their bosom friends 
 at six. 
 
 Copse. A prettj' amusement ! Now hadn't such sparks better imi- 
 tate the example of Tom Copsewood and his companions, who never 
 Lave Luit the distanca of a well-filled tiible between them ; and as for 
 firiug at one another, why so they do— but it's with bumpers, spark- 
 Hng bumpers ; and though hiJf be killed and wounded at night, why 
 they are hale and Learty iu the morning. Hang it, if ever I'd a 
 quarrel with a man, why I'd drink it out with him— and ha that 
 was first under the tible should own himself to be in the wrong. 
 What say you, master? Eh ! I feel a little staggered or so ; but my 
 morning's draught will set all right again. Will you step into the 
 farm 7 
 
 Wing. No, I'm losing time ; I must away, for I've not Lad ai sin- 
 gle shot. I'll just go over by yonder hill. 
 
 Cipse. Don't— you'll get iuto old Springley's grounds; Le'll be 
 sure to cross you somehow or other. 
 
 Wing. An old bunks, eh ? 
 
10 FXFTESM YEABS OF A DSUNKABD'u LIFE. 
 
 Copse, Hnuks ! I'll give j-ou Lis cbnracter in a word — lie drinks 
 nothing but wwter — bia neighbors can't rest for the going of the 
 pomp ; he's a terrible old dog. Now yon n)iiy shoot anything upon 
 my grounds ; and harkye. If you cau't find anything else, why Ihere's 
 b ROW and a litter of thirteeu pigs in the yard ; damme, you shall 
 have a shot at all of them. 
 
 Winfj. You are very good — (laughs and crosses to l.)— so if I find 
 the covers unproductive, depend upon it I'll return to the pig-sty. 
 
 ( Exit I,. 
 
 Copse. That's a good fellow — for I know he likes a glass — I can 
 see three times three in his countenance. A glass— ave, a glass as the 
 song says : 
 
 Song introduced. — "A glass is good and n lass is good." 
 
 (At end of song he retires B. 
 
 Mita- Paiti, from Vtefaiin, s. e. l. 
 
 Patty. Wher^ can luy silly brother — oh, there he stands — as usual. 
 (Ooing up to him and slappivfj him on shouldei: ) Thomas, Thoinan ! 
 
 Copse. { Seeing her. ) Patty! Oh, what, it's you, sister, is it ? 
 
 (Comes down b.c. 
 
 Patty. (L.C.) Is it yon. brother? 
 
 Cbpse, Why, to be sum it is ; don't you know me? 
 
 Patty. How can you expect me, whey you thus forget yourself? 
 
 (k>pse. None of your short replies, Patty. You stick you answers 
 like bodkins into me. 
 
 Patty. Where have you been all night ? 
 
 (hpse. What's that to yor» ? Mind your churning and your poul- 
 try, and don't interfere with the afiBiira of men ; no petticoat ser- 
 mons. 
 
 Patty. Oh, Thomas, Thomas ! this is a sad change. (Cries. 
 
 Copse. A change! why, what's the girl whimpering at ? Can't a 
 man take one, two, or to come to the worst, say three bowls of punch, 
 without being cried over as if he were an onion-bed, or a mustard-pot? 
 There's nobody has any right to question ; I have nobody 
 
 Patty. No one? 
 
 Copse. No. 
 
 Patty. And your mother, Thomas— your old time-worn lather? 
 
 Copse. (Softened.) Well, what of Ihem ? 
 
 Patty. "iChey have waited your coming all night — many a weary 
 turn has your father taken down yonder lane, the winds blowing his 
 gray hairs about his cheeks ; a hundred times your mother has crept 
 on tiptoe to the casement, bending low her ear to catch your step ; 
 many a despairing look has she cast at the black sky, then moving 
 backward to the hearth, sat down and wept. 
 
 Copse. ( With emolion.) Well, I know it's wrong — I've been wild, 
 but it's all over ; kiss me, Patty — you are a good girl, and I'm re- 
 formed to 
 
FIFTEEN YEAKS OF A. DftUNKABD'S LIFE. 11 
 
 Patty. But whj' not come home? 
 
 Copse. That's it, you see ; I couldn't refuse staying for the last 
 time. But to-day I shall go to work, and never, never diiuk again, 
 never! Only, you see, I was a little joyful — I had got a good price 
 for the graiu — all ready money, all paid down. 
 
 Fully. Oh, that indeed is fortunate, it comes most timely ; and 
 you have it, you say ? 
 
 Copse. To be sure I have— you don't think I'd leave it behind me, 
 do you ? No, no, all safe in my own keeping ; if I did tipple a little 
 I knew what I was about. 
 Pally. Where is it? 
 
 Copse. AVhere — why in ray pocket, here! (He endeavors to put 
 his hand into his pocket and discovers that it is torn away — he looks de- 
 spairingly. ) No, it is not ! It is 
 
 Patty. Lost I 
 
 Copse. (Madly.) Lost! no, hold thy tongue— it can't — it must 
 be safe — I'd ut:Vet—( During this time he is in the greatest agitation, 
 searching his person) — Ah ! you've got it, Patty. Come, if you think 
 to frighten me, you mistake —you — yon — ( Tiie truth flashes on him) — 
 Oh, heaven, it's lost ! I am a wretch indeed ! 
 Pally. Coun)ose yourself, dear brother. 
 
 Copse. Compose ! what — and father, mother, you, beggars? and I 
 — oh, fool ! beast ! drunkard I 
 
 Patty. Dear Thomas, come into the farm. 
 
 Copse. What ! to look on outcasts ? and I that have ipade thjbm 
 80 ; never will 1 cross its threshold again unless to bring them com- 
 fort. I'll retrace my steps to the inn — if fortune favors me, I'll sea 
 thee soon — if not, farewell — farewell, Patty, and forever ! 
 
 ( Rushes off, B. 
 
 Paiiy. Farewell, brother, forever! Is it so? (Qoing u) And 
 
 father, mother — lost, lost, forever I (Eeil s.e.l. 
 
 Scene IIL — An ApartmetU in Vebnon's House. Same {as Scene I, 
 Enler Glakville aiul Alicia, s.f.b. 
 
 Alicia, (B.C. ) Ala.s, sir, I fear to flatter myself with the hope. 
 
 Glan. (L.c. ) Trust me, you look too gloomily upon tlie matter ; 
 Vernon will speedily be awakened to his error, and become more 
 guarded from having once erred. Is he at present engaged? 
 
 Ali. I believe with Mr. Franklin ; he is a worthy man. 
 
 Qlan. ( SarcasticaUy. ) He u blessed with your good opinion, 
 madam. 
 
12 FIFTEKN l^CAlES OF A DBUNEABD's LIFE. 
 
 AIL Nay, if j'on are bis rival in love, at least l)e just towards him 
 — he would uot, I aiu sure, be wauting iu such courtesy to you. 
 
 Enter Vernon, from louidow, c 
 
 Ver. (c. ) Alicia, I have been a truant — I come in penitence to 
 ask forgiveness. Glauville, join with uie. 
 
 AIL Join with you ! Oh, sir, too well you know Alicia. 
 
 Ver. Yen, for the gentlest and the fondest wile that ever meekly 
 bore with an ungrateful and a dissipated husband. 
 
 AH. Nay, Vernon, I will not buy your praise at the cost of so 
 much self-reproof. You humble yourself iu your endeavors to exalt 
 me. 
 
 Ver. Alicia, from this day I am an altered man. I now look with 
 astonishment and disgust at the scenes which have of late engaged 
 nie. A tiiveru life ! and with a house like mine, where fortune has 
 profusely showered her dearest blessings — a wife, meelc as the dove, 
 and innocent as infiincy — friends with true hearts — books, nmsic, 
 piiinting, all the arts tiiat give a gnice to life and mise man beyond 
 hiniself - that I should leave this never-tiring round of pure delights, 
 for tlie brawl and hubbub of a tavein— to aigue without instruction, 
 laugh without enjoyment, and at length drown tlie reasouiibJe man 
 within a wine-cask — oh ! let it pass away as a hideous dream, and be 
 no.more remembered. 
 
 AIL Oh ! happy, happy Alicia ! 
 
 ( EiHhrace--GtJk.iiTaA.is. retires a little u 
 
 Enter Servant, s.e.b., icilh salver and a card on iL 
 
 Sei~v. Sir John Gayly has left his card, sir, and hopes that you 
 will remember the appointment this evening at the George. 
 
 C Gives curd and exits, S.E.R. 
 
 AH. ( Clings to him. ) Vernon! 
 
 Ver. Sir John Gayly ! by the bye, I had forgotten — yes, it is this 
 evening ! 
 
 AH. But you will not go? Promise me. 
 
 Vei: Certainly !— and yet, as 1 promised, it might appear disre- 
 spectful to the baronet — you know, my love, one wouldn't like that — 
 BO I must go - but this is the lust time -and mind, I'll take no wine 
 — uot a drop of wine— not 
 
 Enter Servant, s.e.r, ici7/t salves- and decanter, and one wine glass and 
 a gubiet. 
 
 Ver. Eh! what's this? Oh ! I had forgotten— my usual morning's 
 di-aught. 
 
 AIL You may take it away, your master will uot partiike of any 
 this momiug. 
 
FIFTEEN YEARS OF A DRUNKARD'S LIFE. 13 
 
 Fej'. No, no, uever bring it to me again. (Servant //ouigr. ^ But 
 Btop— (Skrvant stops) — as it is here now, I may as well take one 
 glass ! ( Drinks. ") My love, this is the first of the last supply, is it 
 not? It tastes well, and yet — (drinks) —very well, very well -give 
 me another! (About io place tlie wine ffluss on the salver, lets it par- 
 poseh/ drop— the Servant is abotd io exit for atiother when Veknon 
 snulches the decanter and empties its contents into the ijoblet. ) This 
 will do. ( Dritdcs it off.) What a recreant was I to excluini against 
 wine — it's tlie true elixir after all. (Smacks his lips. 
 
 AH, Is this your promise? Before yo»r servant, too? f'2'o Sek- 
 vant.) You can go, Butts. (Servant ea:i<s s.e.e. 
 
 Ver. 'Tis my last sin, believe me. 
 
 Ali. Heaven grant it ! but 
 
 Ver. Bat! But what? Away with those icy fears ; believe me, 
 I am now wholly, unaltembly reformed, ('iea^s Alicia o^ s.e.e.) 
 "Well, Glanville, you will join us to-night? 
 
 Glan, ( Goines doion l.c.) No, no — positively ; I have some serious 
 ideas of reformation myself. 
 
 Ver, (R.c. ) But for one evening — hang it, man, only for one 
 evening. 
 
 Olan. "Well, on one proviso — that you make no such bets as j'ou 
 were guilty of last night. 
 
 Ver. Bets !— last night ! My dear fellow, I remember no bets. 
 
 Olan. What, you were far gone, certainly, but do you not remem- 
 ber how I advised, nay, implored you, to break off the wager with the 
 French Count? 
 
 Ver. The French Count ! I remember that our host's wine was 
 excellent— that the Count sang some delectable ckansons-<i-boire — but 
 lor the bet 
 
 Enter Servant, s.e.r., showi)ig in Clerk. 
 
 Sei'V. A gentleman, sir, from Mr. Bullion, your banker. 
 
 ( Etil s.E.r« 
 
 Clerk, (r.) I wait, sir, from our house, to inquire whether you 
 intend to wholly withdraw yourself from our books ? 
 
 Vfv. (c.) Certainly not, Mr Bullion is one of my best friends. 
 Why this question? 
 
 Clerk. Your check, sir, was presented this morning for the whole 
 amount of the cash banked with us. 
 
 Ver. My check ! Impossible ! 
 
 Clei'k. Here, sir. 
 
 (Shows the check, "Vernon gazes at ii with hoiror and aslo)Uih- 
 ment. 
 
 Ver. Some fiend — some devil has been at work — some jug^de 
 
 Glan. (Aside, i..) Be composed— 'tis the check you givve the 
 Count. 
 
14 utteem xeabs of a dbunjuhs's lifk. 
 
 Vh'. Impossible ! Some cheat — some trick — let me remember — 
 last uigbt. (Veknon slands inukhig an apparent {ff'ort Ic recoiled the 
 events of the last evening — incolierenily. ) No, uo, uo, I couuot grasp 
 a siugle circumstauce. 
 
 Qkm. (Aside to him.) Be calm ! You betray yourself. 
 
 Cleik. What auswer, sir, shall I take back ? 
 
 Ver. Say that I am a wretch— a beggar— a — ( Recollecting himself 
 and with an effort.) No, uo— I will wait on Mr. JiuUioii — will ex- 
 plain all — there is an error- 'tis but a trifle— a — oh ! I shall go mad ! 
 (Exit Clekk, k. ) Glanville ! I'll have revenge. Where is this count ? 
 Where is the villain who has practised on my indiscretions? Indis- 
 cretions ! Oh, drunkenness ! thou smiliug demon, that raises ns firom 
 out ourselves to sink us 'neath the worm ! But the count 
 
 Qlan. Know you not that he was to leave England this morning? 
 The vessel was in the harbor— and see — (Goes towards window c.) — 
 see where she sails. 
 
 Ver, ( Distractedly. ) lly curses sink her ! 
 
 Olan. This is weakness ; what, to rave thus for a few thousaudfl ! 
 
 Ver. Thousands ! Do not my creditors get every daj' more clam- 
 orous? Am I not dunned, hunted, and all through this infernal vice ; 
 but 'tis past — now, indeed, I am an altered man. 
 
 Entei' Sebvant, s.kb., with several papers on a silver salver. 
 
 Ver. Well, sir, what have you there 1 
 
 (Seru. Bills, sir ; this, sir, from your wine merchant, this from the 
 goldsmith — from the jeweler — :this from 
 
 Ver. Villain ! do you come to torment me ? Give them to my 
 steward. 
 
 Serv. He has left the house, sir. 
 
 Ver. Left ! 
 
 Serv. And bade me return you the keys, and with them this let- 
 ter. 
 
 Ver. 'Tis well — give the bills to me. Hence 1 (Exit Sebvant, 
 S.E.B. Reads the teller.) "Respected sir: I have warned j-ou, but 
 you listened not. I could not stay to witness the wreck that must 
 take place ; my accounts will be found correct. Accept my prayers." 
 Smooth-tongued villain ! to leave nie, and at such a time, Glanville, 
 what's to be done ? Some bold stroke, or my credit's gone. 
 
 Glan. You have yet your wife's estate ; tliis house 
 
 Ver. This house ! it was my ancestors' — my noble ancestors — who 
 in the senate and the field covered themselves with glory — who have 
 for four centuries past heaped honor on the name of Vernon — making 
 it as rich and brilliant as a diadem— to be worn by whom? A betist, 
 a drunkard ; a wretch who drowns his reason in the goblet, and only 
 lives when he disgraces life. This house! — part with it? Impossi- 
 ble! 
 
FIFTEEN XEABS OF A.' DUUNKAltu's LIFE. 15 
 
 Olan. I said not part with it — j'et money may be raised. Was not 
 Pouuce here this morning? 
 
 Ver. He is now iu the libraiy. 
 
 Glan. He is secret and persevering — why not trust him ? 
 
 Ver. I will ; all may yet be regained— all, if the world be kept in 
 iguontuce. Glauville, excuse me to the bayonet ; to-night I'll stay at 
 home. 
 
 Olan. Why not have the party here? 
 
 Ver. Here ! 
 
 Olan. Aye ! The aflfair at your banker's may be whispered — a 
 little fete now, would give the falsehood to any ugly rumor. You un- 
 derstand ? 
 
 Ver. It would SQ ; but there is no time. 
 
 Olan. I have it ! Mrs. Loverout gives a masquerade to-night I 
 know she wjU, at my solicitations, bring the masquers here ; a few 
 lamps can so be put in the orangery, and then 
 
 Ver. As you will ! I feel a burning thirst. 
 
 Olan. Come, shall I prescribe for you? Wine ! 
 
 Ver. Aye! Wine ! wine ! There is some demon in my heart that 
 leaps at the sound ! Words are vain ! Euin may preach, but 'tis 
 beard not ; the monster's up — and wine, wine alone can satisfy it 
 
 (Exem^ &E.B. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Evnt Wood. 
 
 Enter Fbanklin and Miss Vebnon, t, 
 
 Franklin, (b.) The infatuation every day grows stronger on him. 
 Miss Vernon, (l. ) My poor brother, and his unhappy wife I 
 Frank. Can you theu hesitate at withdrawing yourself from a 
 
 house where you are compelled to witness scenes of violence, and, I 
 
 may add, guilt? 
 Miss V. Be assured, Franklin, that in remaining with my brother 
 
 I have no other view than a hope of re-awakening him to a sense of 
 
 his indiscretions. Grant me a short time longer, and then whatever 
 
 may be the result of my endeavors, I am yours. 
 
 Frank. For me, content with such a promise, be mistress of your 
 
 time. I will, with you, strive to work the preservation of Vernon, 
 
 though, from what I have lately witnessed, 1 am not sanguine iu my 
 
 expectations. 
 
 Copse. (Singing without, l.) "And believe me there's nothing 
 
 like grog." 
 
16 PIFTJSiCN YEAKS OF A DHUNKAHD'S LfFE. 
 
 Frank. Come, I will see you to the honse, and then return on my 
 missiou. 
 
 Miss V. I will not detain yon, (crosses <o B. ) 'tis but a short way 
 — in cue hour I shall expect you. (Bk'd b. 
 
 Enter Copsewood, singing, l. 
 
 •'I've been drinking, I've been drinkiug, 
 , Where were wine and brandy good ; 
 
 And I'm thinking, and I'm thiuking. 
 How to get out of this wood." 
 
 Frank, (b.) What, Master Copsewood, are you not ashamed of 
 yourself? 
 
 Copse, (i,.) Ashamed! What for? Haven't I been drinkiug? 
 
 Isn't that all correct, eh? (Sings.) " If you doubt what I say, take 
 a bumper and try." 
 
 Frank. But hear me. 
 
 Copse. (Sings.) "A bumper!" 
 
 Frank. One word 
 
 Copse. (Sings.) "A bumper!" 
 
 F-ank. Are you mad ? 
 
 Copse. ( Sings. ) •' Take a bumper and try F 
 
 Frank. How is it that I see you thus? 
 
 Copse, How is it? Why, I'll tell you. (Sings. 
 
 "This momiug very earl5'. 
 My malady was such, 
 I in my tea took brandy, 
 And took a drop too much." 
 
 Frank. Coine, let me advise yon to go home. 
 
 Copse. Go home ! pho ! (Sings.) "Go to the Barley-Mow — go 
 to the Barley-Mow." 
 
 Frank. An honest, industrious fellow like you to make j'ourself a 
 mere receptacle for drink. 
 
 Copse. Receptacle! (Sing.^.) "And so out of Toby they made 
 this brown jug." I'm now in the best of all humors— 1 only want a 
 friend and a bottle. Ah ! they may talk of their Greek and their 
 Latin gibberish, and all that — but there's a seutimeut for you, there's 
 a plain English seutimeut. f Sings. ) "May we ne'er want a friend 
 or a bottle to give him." Oh, I've been getting tipsy like a gentle- 
 man ; what do you think I've been drinking? 
 
 F-ank. What ! Why, if you nnist drink, what an honest yeoman 
 life yourself ought to partake of — good Sir John Barleycorn. 
 
 Cop.-ie. Beer ! once it was delightful, but now, my genteel com- 
 pany forbids it. 
 
 F\'unk. Indaed ! 
 
FIFTEEN YEAKS OF A DBUNKAED's LIFE. 17 
 
 Copse. (Sings.) — 
 
 "Oh, no ! we never mention it, 
 
 Its foud uame never drops, 
 My lips are now forbid to taste 
 
 A draiiglit of malt and hops ; 
 From wine to wiue I've hurried, 
 
 Till I've drained each bottle out ; 
 But ask me not if e'er I tipple 
 
 Half-and-half, or stout" 
 
 Frank. Well, now let nie advise you to go home. 
 
 Copse. I will, because I know sister expects me. 
 
 Frank. Ah, the pretty Patty ; she's a charming girl — good-natured, 
 lively, innocent and unaffected. 
 
 Copse. Ah, that's all true ; but, bless you, you've left out the first 
 and best of all her virtues. 
 
 Frank. And what's that? 
 
 Copse. She makes punch like an angel. 
 
 Frank. Well, farewell, friend ; and take this brief but sincere 
 warning — reform, reform, and live soberly. (Exit r. 
 
 Copse. So 1 will — that I'm determined. ( Takes flask out of his 
 pocket and drinks. ) So I will ! sobriety is good in its way, and I'm 
 determined to patronize it. 
 
 Enter Bailiff, l. 
 
 Bailiff. Wliat, Master Copsewood, and tipsy ! 
 
 Copse. Well, what's that to you? A man has no right to take out 
 a license for drinking liquor if he has to sell it. Wljut is it to you? 
 
 Bailiff. Oh, nothing ! ( Grosses to k. ) Only I hope you are ready 
 for to-morrow ; you know tlie day of the month, I suppose — not an 
 hour will be given you, and this I tell you in friendship. ( Erit k. 
 
 Copse. To-uiorrow ! Oli, the thoughts are coming upon me like 
 flashes of fire ! To-morrow the reut't due, and 1 — that money — lost 
 — and instead of seeking it — I must go to yonder iim, and — father, 
 mother, sister, all turned out, houseless beggars — and I — I the cause. 
 Eh! who's that in yonder lane? (Looks off, Im) 'Tis Squire Bul- 
 lion's clerk — and what — he's counting notes — ann now he takes out a 
 bag— gold, bnglit, glitternig gold! My father, mother — are you to 
 starve — to— no— tliis. tliis will arm me for anything. ( Takes out 
 flask a)id drinks off contents. ) Now, now I feel the robber strong 
 within me, and come what will, the gold is mine. (Exit l. 
 
18 FirXEEN YKAES OF A UUUKKABD's IOFE. 
 
 Scene V. — An Elegant Apartment ichich opens into the Orangery in 
 centre, illuminated with lamps. The apartment JUled up as for a gala. 
 A table with icine, &c. 
 
 Vebnon, GiiANViLLB Olid Company discowred sitting b. (aU in dom- 
 inos) drinking. Sei-vants loaitin^. 
 
 All, Ha, ha, ha ! Excellent ! a wit — a wit ! 
 
 Ver. (Greatly exhilarated.) No, no, gentlemen, you flatter; I'm 
 naturally ^a dull fellow, but wine, glorious wine will act as the steel 
 to my flinty sense, and sometimes strike out a bright spark or bo.'^ 
 
 Glan. I'm tired of wine— some brandy. 
 
 One of the company. And water. 
 
 Ver, Water ! he's a Geutoo who says water, and shall live upon it. 
 
 One of the company. Come, come, brandy married to an equal 
 quantity of water is not so base either. 
 
 Ver. Married ! no, give it to me in its single state ; though if I 
 were made Doge of Venice, instead of wedding the oceaa. faith, I'd 
 drop a ring into a barrel of eau-de-vie. 
 
 Olan. Then brandy and water is to be lawful ? 
 
 Ver. Aye, but let it be made according to the true Sbaksperian 
 precept. 
 
 Olan. The Sbaksperian precept — how is that? 
 
 Ver. Why, as for the brandy, "nothing extenuate" — and the 
 water, put nought in, in malice. (Music strikes up loithout.) Our 
 visitors ! Come, gentlemen, mask — mask. ( They mask themselves. 
 
 Enter Masqiieraders through c. A dance — after the dance Alicia and 
 Miss Vebnon, who are dressed in character dresses, single out Veb- 
 non. 
 
 Ver. (Between them. ) Well, ladies, what Avould you with a poor 
 unknown? You have fairly hunted me through the room. Come, 
 have I made a conquest ? Your name ? 
 
 Miss V. Prudence. 
 
 Ver. A pretty name for a masquerade. (Lauglis.) Andj'ours? 
 
 AU. Temperance. (All laugh. 
 
 Ver. (Laughs. ) A saint couldn't refrain from laughing at such 
 pretty names ! Oh, sisters ! Prudence and Tempenxnce — well, my 
 fair ladies, these are virtues I have been between all my life, but 
 could never yet come over to either of them. Adieu ! 
 
 (Vkbnon is retiring when four masks, two as hermits and two as 
 bravoes, suirowui him. 
 
 Ver. Eh ! what, between robbery and peace-making. Well, gen- 
 tlemen, which side is to have me ? 
 
 All. Both ! ( They Ikroio off their masks and discover themselves. 
 
FIFTEBN X£i£S OF A DBUMKASO'S llSEt Ij^ 
 
 Ver. Bailiffs ! 
 
 AIL Husbiind ! 
 
 Miss V. Brother ! 
 
 Ver. 'Tis a masquerading trick. 
 
 Bail. Nay, uay ; you do not so avoid as, 
 
 Ver. Villains, let me pass i 
 
 fHe is running up the stage when two more bailiffs present them- 
 selves with pistols al c. door. A shout of "Stop thief!" is 
 set up. 
 
 COPSEWOOD rushes down through o. door, pursued hy Rustics and Clebe, 
 who seize him on his fences, I1.0. 
 
 Copse. Save me ! Save me ! 
 
 (He throws the bag (f gold to the Glebe, and falls at his feet, in 
 attUude of entreaty. Picture. 
 
 Bailiffs. Bailiffs. Sustios. 
 
 , Masquers. Masques. 
 
 END or ACT I. 
 
 A lapse of five years bettoeen the first and second acts. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 Scene I. — A Plain Chamber. Centre door. Plain furniture. 
 
 Enter Doobose, l. 
 
 Dogrose. Well, I've bad news for my poor mistress — poor lady— 
 here she sits, day after day, painting and p.iiutiiig, whilst her hus- 
 band, the lost Mr. Vernon, squanders the little gathered from the 
 'wreck of his late fortune, in riot and intoxication. 
 
3d FIFXE£N TEABS OF A DBUMKARD'b LtFE, 
 
 Enter Alicia, b. 
 
 AIL Now, luy kind frieud — servant no longer — Lave you brought 
 back any ordei-s? 
 
 Dog. Alas ! madam — I took home the drawings — and here, here is 
 the payment — (Gives purse) — but I can hardly find courage to tell 
 you, they desired me to inform you, that 
 
 AIL Speak ! 
 
 Dog. That no more will be wanted for some time. 
 
 AIL Then are we desolate, indeed ! Oh, Vernon 
 
 Dog. Ah ! lady, a foolish, indolent, profligate 
 
 AIL He is my husband — he was yoxir master ! 
 
 Dog. Indeed, lady, I meant no harm. (Knocking wiUiavi, c. 
 
 AIL Hush! 'tis he — begone, good fellow. (Exit Dogbose, c.) 
 He's here. (Sits at easel, B. 
 
 Enter Vebnon, c, his appearance is gloomy and haggard, he looks sul- 
 lenly at DoGEOSK, who goe:- off. Veunon takes a chair and sits l. 
 
 Vei: (L.) So! What does that menial here? Why am I to be 
 
 continually reminded, by his presence, of the fortnue lost 
 
 AIL (b.) B}' your own intemperance. 
 
 Still more complaints. For these five years past, I have 
 
 Yon have borne ! ungrateful man. 
 What! more reproaches? 
 
 Nay, I will give utterance to my anguish. Yon have borne 
 — and what have I endured — endured without a murnuir? For your 
 charge is false, as it is unfeeling — was I not, alike with you, nursed 
 in the soft lap of luxury ? Have I not seen our domains, your ances- 
 tral halls, melt and fade away like a vain pageant of ice? Have I not 
 Been you sink, day by day, from the most exalted station, almost to 
 the wretched footing of the outcast? Have 1 not seen your intellect 
 obscured, your temper broken, by that base infatuation which my 
 heart sickens to think upon, and my li[)8 refuse to name? 
 
 Ver. Granted that you have, you have still the satisfaction of j'onr 
 sex — to talk of it. If I am grown so hideous, pray, madam, do not 
 longer violate the delicacy of your feelings, but leave me. 
 
 AIL Leave you ! no ! though you have banished relations, friends 
 from me — though you have dniwn the loud contempt of the world 
 upon your wretched head —though you are a mark for the good to 
 grieve at, and the vain to scoff — though abuse and contumely bo 
 leveled f.t you, still, still I must be witli you — the name of husband 
 is not lost, though it be coupled with the opprobrious term of 
 
 Ver. Drunkard ! end your sentence, madam, 'tis your meaning. 
 But 'tis not my vices, as you term them — 'tis my narrow means that 
 offend you. 'Tis not the loss of my good name, as you most delicate- 
 ly infer— but the absence of silks, feathers, and of diamonds ! — 'tis 
 this food your vanity craves after. 
 
FIFTEEN TEARS OF A DUUNKABD's LIFE. ^ 
 
 AIL This food ! Vernoa, do you believe that only vanity Las 
 banger? That only the empty pride of dress can feel au appetite? 
 Are there no other wants ? 
 
 Ver. What mean yon ? Do j'ou hear me ? Spesak I 
 
 AU. This is the first time you have crossed the threshold since 
 yesterday, when you dined ! 
 
 Ver. Why remind me of that? 
 
 AU. Know you how that dinner was procured? — by what witchery 
 the money was obtained? — for 'tis long since you have given me any. 
 
 Ver. How it was procured ! How ? By heavens ! consuming 
 thoughts and maddening fears throng upon my brain, and press it 
 into madness. That money ! — how procured ? Speak ! satisfy me, 
 or by hell, I'll read the historj' 
 
 AU. Read it here. (Holds her hand io him. 
 
 Ver. Ha ! your ring ! 
 
 AU. You see, 'tis gone. It bought your dinner — it bought your 
 wine— that ring, which, in the sweet promise of youth, in the day- 
 spring of our mutual love — was fixed upon my hand by the noble, 
 generous Vernon, the good man, and the gentleman, was wrested 
 from its sacred place to purchase mad forgettuluess — intoxication for 
 Vernon, the degarded, selfish drunkard ! 
 
 Ver. And was wine purchased from such a source, and did it not 
 turn to poison? Oh, this sacrifice is too much. Alicia, dear Alicia, 
 yes, I see it in your pale cheek and drooping lip — your eyes ! — thoso 
 eyes which I have worshipped as the glorious sun — all reveal your 
 constancy and my disgrace. You, you — I cannot speak the words — 
 have wanted foo<l, whilst I 
 
 AU. No — no— do not think so — besides, all is past now ; you will 
 stay at home to-day ? 
 
 Ver. Stay — here let me be fixed the statue of remorse. 
 
 (Is about to kneeL 
 
 AIL Ah ! all, all is pardoned, all forgotten. 
 
 ( They embrace— the purse falls from Alicia's dress, 
 . Ver. ( Taking it up. ) Ha ! ( With mingled feeling of sorrow and 
 contempt. ) Oh I Alicia, is it so ? 
 
 AU. Stay, I can explain all. 
 
 Ver. Not a word— 'tis all explained. The wife would reclaim the 
 truant husband ; and with a subtle story lure him back again to 
 home and obedience. You had no money? (Going c.) Farewell! 
 
 AU. ( Holding him. ) Vernon, in mercy, stay ! where would you — 
 answer — oh, I see — the tavern — the tavern. 
 
 Ver. No matter ! be silent What ! tears — 'tis well — you are pro- 
 ficient in your craft. 
 
 AIL On my knees ! Vernon ! 
 
 Ver. Hence, hypocrite! 
 
 (Vebnon throws her from him and exits c. — she falls and scene 
 closes. 
 
22 nFT£EK ZEAB8 OF i. DB0NSABD 8 UTE. 
 
 Scene II. — A Front Wood. 
 Enter Glakvtlie mid Copsewood, 'l. 
 
 Olan. (R.) Have you any recommendation as to character ? 
 
 Copse. (L. ) Why; as for that, sir, I'm rather stninge about these 
 parts, and as I didn't think of character in my own village — I — you 
 see, sir — I haven't got anything written about lue. 
 
 Olan. Well, perhaps you could obtain the requisite document ? 
 
 Copse. Why, sir, I don't know, people lately grow very nice about 
 speaking a good word for me ; when I was a youngster, the M'hole 
 village would have put their hands to a recommendation ; but some- 
 how or other, the older I grow, the more folks think I can recoumiend 
 myself. 
 
 Olan. Have you been brought up to service ? 
 
 Copse. No ; I hiid once a farm of my own ; that is, I managed it 
 for father and mother ; but they are dead, and then my sister 
 
 Olan. Is she dead too ? 
 
 Copse. Aye ! I am glad to say. 
 
 Ola7i. A most brotherly gladness. 
 
 Copse. It is, and you knew all. Everything went wrong. I went 
 ■wrong too ; and there was a fine gentleman — a villain ! — ^he professed 
 to serve us, and, in short, he poisoned the mind of Patty. 
 
 Olan. What ! Copsewood ! 
 
 Copse. Aye — why you know the — (looks Ttard into Oukirviujs's 
 face) — what ! thou art the villain ! 
 
 Olan. No ! 
 
 Copse. Thou liest ! the blood rtms from thy cheeks, and thy lips 
 quiver ! — now feel a brother's vengeance ! 
 
 (He grapples with Gi-ANViiiLE, throws him round inio i*. corner, 
 and is about to strike him with his cudgel. 
 
 Enter Fbanklin, /rom l., and goes between them. 
 
 Frank, (c. ) Kise, sir. (Recognizing him. ) Glanville ! 
 
 G'/a7i. (L.) Franklin! I thank you, sir, for this courtesy — for 
 yonder ruflSan, the law shall find security. (JEkii i* 
 
 Frank. Is it not Copsewood? 
 
 Cffpse. (Abashed, b. ) Sir, you may remember things which would 
 make me deny my name, but 
 
 Frank. Penitence may have done much. You have, I hope, re- 
 formed. 
 
 Copse. Why, sir, it must have been some fury that tempted me to 
 snatch that bag ; I got off from that, thanks to your kindness ; and 
 now 
 
 Fraiik. You have added, I hope, sobriety to your good qualifica- 
 tions. 
 
FIFTEEN YEARS OF A DBUNKABD's UFE. 28 
 
 Copse. I'll try, sir ; but if the truth must be told I make but slow 
 progress. 
 
 Frank. But why thus assault Mr. Glanville? 
 Copse. Why ! Yet I'm glad yoix came betwixt us, or I had shed 
 his blood. My sister, my poor sister, 'twas he who murdered her ! 
 Frank. He ! You surely speak from surmise, you have uo proof? 
 Copse. Why, uot what the law calls murder ; but there are many 
 villaius walking abroad worthy of halters, upon whom the law, tight 
 and shrewd though it be, cannot fix them. 
 Frank. How know yon of her death ? 
 
 Copse. I'll tell you, sir, if I can, though to my own shame. When 
 I took to visiting inns, and such places, the farm went to wreck — 
 father and mother died — sister Patty was lured away — my good name 
 was gone. I tried at every place to get work, but couldn't— I was a 
 beggar and a vagrant for four long yeni-s. I went to London, aud 
 there, for want of better employment, 1 worked at — it is an ugly 
 word — ;ui undertaker's. Well, sir, one night the chinch wardens 
 came and told me to follow them. I did so. They siiid a poor girl, 
 tmknown aud unattended, had just gone from this world. We came 
 to the place — I entered a loathsome hut —a den of dirt and misery — 
 aud in one corner, thrown aside, as in the very coldness of contempt, 
 lay the body. I took a light and bent myself towards the corpse — 
 I snatched the coverlet aside, and there— oh ! my biii-stiug heart — 
 la}' my sister ! m}' poor sister ! I gasped for breath, and my knees 
 sunk under me beside her ; ah ! how changed — her meek eyes, her 
 sweet lips, her snow like skin — in every feature, in ever}' liue, was 
 .writ the story of a broken heart; her very locks — sir, she was uot 
 seventeen, yet there Mere gray hairs upon her! 
 Frank. Unhappy girl ! 
 
 Copse. 1 took one kiss from her cold mouth, aud pressing her thia 
 and withered hand, I swore, silently yet deepl}', an oath of vengeance 
 on her destroyer — you, sir, saw Glanville in the dust. Now wonder 
 you that his blood is not trickling at my feet ? 
 
 Frank. How did you first encounter him ? He has not long ar- 
 rived here. 
 
 Copse. So I heard, though I was not told his name ; I applied to 
 him — ('tis bitter now to think ou't) — for employment, as his servant, 
 — /tis servant! Curses! 
 Frank. Come with me — be trusty, aad you shall not need a friend. 
 
 ( Crosses lo B. 
 Copse. Heaven bless you. 
 Frank. But njiud, you must observe sobriety — why, you hesitate — 
 
 do you hear, you must observe 
 
 Copse. Yes, sir — yes—rU U-y, sir. (EiKu.nl, b. 
 
81 nXTEEM TEAKS OF A. DBXTKKABD's USE. 
 
 ScEKE III. — The Interior of Fbankun's House. Genire dooi- cham- 
 ber, backed by interior. Tables b. and l. Cliairs with coveis over 
 them. 
 
 • EtUer DooBosE, b. 
 
 Dog. Well, it's lucky that Mr. Franklin having married Mr. 
 Vernon's sister, I was promoted to be his butler, and thus am enabled 
 to assist poor Madam Alicia — for her husband and Mr. Frauklm must 
 ever, I fear, be foes. 
 
 Ent^ JUNIPEB, o. 
 
 Dog. Oh, here comes my humble friend. Well, Master Juniper, 
 I suppose having recruited yourself in the pantry, you are now ready 
 to ti-avel? 
 
 Jan. (L,. ) Why, only another glass. 
 
 Dog. (R.) Well, you shall have it, and then you must go awaj' — 
 for the truth is, my master has no relish for visitors of your order. 
 
 Jtin. Of my order ? What do you mean ? 
 
 Dog. Yes, of your order ! You know there were some odd tales 
 about you in the \illiige 
 
 Jan. Aye, but that's five yeare ago — do you think a bad character 
 will wear forever? 
 
 Dog. Why — like a bad coat, it's according to the care that's taken 
 of it — but perhaps you have thrown it off altogether? 
 
 Jan. Why, if not that, I've patched it with discretion ; bless you, 
 there's many a knave by such a kind of tailoring makes his reputation . 
 pass for us good as new. 
 
 Dog. Aye, or when it's worn out on one side, by turning it. But 
 you know you were accused of, of — I forget exactly. 
 
 Jun. Yes, j'es ! (Aside.) For further particulars, see the New- 
 gate Calendar ! (Aloud.) Never mind all that — it was in my tender 
 years, j'ou know. 
 
 Dog. Eh, who's this? ( Orosses and looks off Jm) Step aside. 
 
 Juji. I'm off. (EeU b. 
 
 Enter Fbansun and Copsewood, l. 
 
 Frank. Here, Dogrose, is an old acquaintance — make him wel- 
 come. To-morrow, Copsewood, let me see you early. ( Exit u 
 
 Dog. (B. ) Well, Master Copsewood, and how has the world slid ? 
 
 Copse. (L.) Ill enough. But why keep such a distance? Are 
 we not friends? 
 
 Dog. Why • 
 
 Copse. Aye, I see it ; come, I'll not be nice with the matter — I see 
 your thoughts, man ! that bag of gold, eh — (Dogbose nods) — ah ! — 
 well, it was a foolish affair ; but I paid for it — deeply, deeply paid for 
 it — character lost — father, mother 
 
FIFTEEN YEABS OF A DBUMEABD's LIFE. 25 
 
 Dog. Well, here's my hand. I'm not one of those squeamish peo- 
 ple, who having but little honesty themselves, make up for the want 
 by their uncharitable suspicions of others ; it is not because a young 
 horse once stumbles, that he is always to be upon his knees — and so, 
 again. Master Copsewood, here's my haiid. 
 
 Gopse. Thou art a worthy" fellow— a worthy fellow. Come, hast 
 thou not a glass ? one glass — as I'm an houest man, I have had but 
 but four to-day — only four, and that, you know, for a man of my ex- 
 perience 
 
 Dog. Well, we'll have a glass. (Exit u. 
 
 Re-enie)' Jdkiper, b. 
 
 Jun. And here's one that will join you — who'd have thought of 
 seeing you, Master Copsewood. Come, we can make a night of it 
 Here, let me assist you. 
 
 Re-enter Doorose, l., bringing on bottle, glasses, &c. Copsewood 
 takes flask from his bosom, and fills it out of the bottle. 2'key seat 
 themselves. 
 
 Dog. (Sealed c.) feut one word, my gentle visitors, this must be 
 what we call in genteel society, a select party. 
 
 Jun. ( Seated B. ) Oh, of course ! 
 
 Dog. No intemperance. 
 
 Oopse. (Seated u ) Oh, of course ! 
 
 Dog. No drinking till we don't know what we are about. 
 
 Jun. Oh, of course ! 
 
 Copse. Of course ! 'Twould be a breach of hospitality. I'll thank 
 you for the spirits. (Drinks.) The man in the moon if he tipp'es 
 need not drink better brandy than this. 
 
 (During the foregoing, Copsewood and Jdkipek have been help- 
 ing themselves most profusely, and are far uduaneed in intoxi- 
 Ciition. 
 
 Jun. Now, I say my master, what do you think of one bumper? 
 
 Dog. No, no, I forbid it — no bumpers. 
 
 Copse. No, no bumpers. That's such a common road to drunken- 
 ness ; now I've a short cut of my own, there's no room for genius in 
 the regularity of bumper — but we'll just, if you like, take one glass 
 more together. 
 
 Dog. No, no — my head is not used to it, and it's turning round 
 already. 
 
 Gopse. Turning round, is it? There's nothing like stopping it 
 Avith a dead weight — here, my boy. (Filling for him.J Come, the 
 other glass. 
 
 Dog. Ah ! the other glass — what. Master Copsewood, where would 
 you have been by this time if it hadn't been for that crj' ? 
 
 Copse. You'ro right ; right and now I know you're in the fair road 
 for intoxication, because you're getting sentimental — the other glasses 
 
tt FIFTEEN TEABS OF A DBTTNSABD's LIFE. 
 
 —oil, tliftt other glass is tbe devil — the other glass, and no more — it's 
 never found ; lor I've been drinking bard lor it iiud looking for it for 
 the last seven yenrs, luid bang me if the other glass has ever yet come 
 to liaud— never— and when 1 die, if I have iiu epitiipb, let it be, here 
 lies "the (itlier glass and no more." 
 
 Jn7i. Come, ibey're uU sermons — let's have a song — and I'll sing 
 it. (Betjhis to snig. 
 
 G>pse. No, no, I'll sing the song. (Begins to sing. 
 
 Dog. Neither of you shall sing. I am master here, and I'll sing. 
 
 ( Thumps the table, begins to sing. 
 
 Copse. Come, no quarreling, no quarreling — now, I've hit upon 
 such a plan— such a scheme -ha! ha !— ecod, I'm the boy I I'll tell 
 you what — here's an idea ! we'll all sing together ! 
 
 C They sing discordant'.y, and at length each sinks into a state of 
 stupefaction, and scene closes in. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Boom in an Inn. Doors in flat, n. and l. Interior 
 backing. 
 
 Enter GiiANVuxe and Pounce, i. 
 
 Pounce. (L. ) How strange ! I thought he had been abroad. 
 
 Olan. (B. ) Aye, and so 'tis said he was. He is now, however, in 
 this house. 
 
 FoiDice. Has he seen you ? 
 
 6lan. Yes. 
 
 Founce. And did he not spurn you, for your desertion of him, af- 
 ter the destruction of his property ? 
 
 Glun. Spurn me ! I tell you the devil drink never worked so 
 great a change in the nature of any man, as in this Vernon — all his 
 thoughts, feelings, actions, begin and end iu a bottle. Think you, a 
 wretch so base and mean as this, has room for the indulgence of re- 
 venge? True, the flame may at times flicker within him, but the 
 ruling passion of drink rages high again, makes poor the passion of 
 vengeance and pufis it out. 
 
 Pounce. You may mistake him, 
 
 Glnn. I have proof. At our first meeting he swelled a little and 
 glared sullenly. I mentioned wine — and as the serpent's eye brings 
 down the fluttering bird wilhiu its venomed jaws, so at the ver^' 
 sound, his mounting spirit dropped — and now look ! — see where 'tis 
 drugged withiu him ! ( Throws open door in flat u. and discovei's 
 Vebnon oil the floor, as if slid from the chair, on the rail of whldi his 
 head is yet resting. ) See where the image of noble, ambitious, god- 
 
FIFTEEN TEAKS OV A DRUNKAKD'S UFK. W 
 
 like man — the master of the earth and all its beiugs— the creature 
 thiit biuds the eleiueuts to his will — that tempts tlie billows iu their 
 wrath and blunts the lightning— the gifted soul that would read tlie 
 will of fate within tlie star-lettered front of heaven— see where he lies, 
 gorged to the throat with wiue ! the mockery of life, the antipodes of 
 reason. 
 
 Pounce. Still, this love of wine has been his only fault, 
 
 Gian. Only fault ! habitual intoxication is tlie epitome of every 
 crime ; ail the vices that htaiu our nature germiuiite witiiiu it, waiting 
 but a moment to sprout forth iu pestilential rankuess. When the 
 Roman stoic sought to fix a damning stigma on his sister's seducer, 
 he called him neither simple rebel, bloodshedder, or villain — no, he 
 wreaked every odium within one word, and that was, dmnkiird! 
 
 Pounce. It may be ; but still I have known men of Vernon's char- 
 acter, capable of independent thouglit. 
 
 OUtn. Impossible 1 Independence, and with a sot ! i tell yon 
 when a m.m stoops to contmuid intoxiciitioii, 'tis only necessary to 
 drench him well with what lie loves, and. lii<e wax, you may work 
 him 'tween your fingers, moidding him f^ol or villain as you will. 
 Enough of this — Vernon must be disposed of. 
 
 Pounce, Disposed of ! 
 
 Olan. Aye, 'tis necessary for our safety. I am told that Franklin, 
 Lis brother-ill-law, tliough despising Vernon, yet for the sake of his 
 wife and child, is striving to find out that French Count. 
 
 Pounce. Well ! 
 
 Olan. Well are you a born idiot, or moon-struck ? Know you 
 not, that if Franklin prove successful, the draft, which in Vi-ruon's 
 name I forged, making him, poor fool, believe it was his own act —and 
 which you caused to be presented — must come against hv ? Now you 
 see the necessity ? 
 
 Pouce. Yes, there is a necessity — a fearful one ! What is to be 
 done ? 
 
 Olun. Can you cut a throat? 
 
 Pounce. Sir? 
 
 Olan. Oh, you are a punctilious, sweet-banded villain ! You can 
 forge instruments whereby to throw happy families fnim honorable 
 independence into famishing obscurity — you can slay with ink and 
 parchment — you can break hearts, accordbnj to Imo, but you cannot 
 commit a vulgar murder ; you are brave against the widow's teai-s 
 and orphan's moans, but you cannot look on blo()d ! 
 
 Pounce. I have, as you know, nndertakeu desperate things during 
 our partnership of crime, but this 
 
 Olan. No matter for the past, my own hand shall stead me in the 
 present. 
 
 Pounce. Consider, 'ere 'tis too late. 
 
 Olan. 'Tis too late to consider. Will it not, after what I have 
 done, be an act of charity to put that piece of scarcely breathing lum- 
 ber (points to VebNDn) into a quiet grave? (After looking a momeiyt 
 
38 FI7TE£N XEABS OF A DRUNEABD's LIFB, 
 
 at Yebnom.) By Leaveu ! I would rather be the villain that I am, 
 with all uy faculties strong and active in crime, than that poor dull 
 piece of saturated clay. 
 
 Ver. (Dreaming.) No, no — no more wine — give me spirits, 
 spirits 1 — ah ! they fire my heart again ! — now, now I am myself! 
 
 ( Falls prostrcUe. 
 
 Olan. Do you retire and watch my steps when I leave this place 
 with Vemou. (Exit Pounce, l.) So! now for my victim! (Ap- 
 proaches Vebnon, and after some difficulty rouses him, bringing him 
 down stage, then leaves him and goes to door in flat l., brings down 
 decanter of spirits and two glasses. ) Come, how now ! What, Fred ! 
 cast down, and with only four bottles ! 
 
 Ver. Where am I? What has— ( Seeing GiAuriLiiE, /le shrinks 
 hack) — Glanville ! or is it some ghastly dream? 
 
 OUin. (Who pours ord tnore spirUs, l.) Here! here! this will 
 awaken you. 
 
 Ver. (B., who snatches at it almost instinctively and swallows iL ) 
 'Tis of the right kind 'ifaith ! Another, another! (Drinks.) Now 
 the clouds are clearing up — come, oue more, but one more, and I 
 shall have — (feeling his brow) — the bright day. 
 
 Olan. AU ! now you look like youixelf. 
 
 Ver. Myself ! Who is that ? Ha ! I remember, it was Vernon — 
 Frederick Vemou — the happy, rich, respected — that was Fred Ver- 
 non. Where, where is he? 
 
 Ola7i. What, the vapors again ? Another bumper ! 
 
 (Glanville pours oid a glass from the decanter, and is about to 
 give it to Vebnon, who puts it aside and seizes Uie decanter. 
 
 Ver. (After dtinking. ) So ! now I have found him — now I am fit 
 for anything. Come, where will you go, Glanville ? Will you go to 
 my house? We'll have a splendid feast— a supper for Lucnllus. 
 Come ! But you don't drink ! — you are dull and steady — now no man 
 sups with me who don't drink ; no man, woman, or child, tliui don't 
 drink. 
 
 Olaiu ( Affecting intoxication. ) Don't drink? Why, I have drunk 
 like an emperor — like an emperor ! 
 
 Ver. This way, then — this way, then. (Singing. 
 
 << The glasses sparkle on the board, &c (Exeuni b. 
 
 ScENB V. — A Street. Fbankltn's House, door to open. Ifight, lights 
 down. Music. 
 
 Enter Alicu, i>. 
 
 AIL My search is in vain — he's nowhere to be found. I shudder 
 to think on it, but perhaps the image of iusensibility, my husband. 
 
FTFTEEN YBABS OF A DBUKKABD'S U72. Si& 
 
 lies in the cold air, at the mercy of the mercy of the elements, and of 
 every rugged iiud unfeeling passeuger ! Oli, Vernou, if not for my 
 sake, at least for your poor cliild's— for your sweet, innoceutboy — 
 return to your desolated Lome! Whither have I wandered? This 
 street — you house — oli, my poor heart! In yonder house, the abode 
 of virtuous love, live Franklin and his happy wife, the wretched Ver- 
 non's sister. Oh, I can picture the scene within that hoitse— domes- 
 tic joy, with every grace of life, hixa sanctified its heartli-stone Per- 
 haps Lonisa, now happy in her love, is sitting with her hushund ; 
 whilst at my home, desolation frowns from the bare walls — my child, 
 sunk to sleep in its wild cries for bread — and my husband — ^oh ! let 
 me away from tliis spot; let me hence, whilst I have sense to fl}'. 
 (Looks offn.) Ha ! some one approaches, and with strange precau- 
 tion ! Let me a moment observe. (Relives l. 
 
 Elder. Picklock and two Thieves, k. 
 
 First Thief. Depend upon it, Picklock, you may trust Juniper ; 
 let him drink as he may, he still keeps an eye to business. 
 
 Picklock. 01), I never doubted him. But whereabouts are we? 
 
 First Thief. Tliis is the spot —and that the house. 
 
 Picklock What's o'clock? Hark ! the chimes! ( Strikes iirelve. 
 
 First lliief It is the hour — now for the signal ! (Picklock (o/ii.s- 
 Ues, and is answered from the house.) That's the nightingale I love to 
 bear. 
 
 Pick. Now, comrades ; here is a bootj', stand firm and we may 
 make our fortunes. 
 
 Fiist Thief. But, captain, is this to be a simple or a compound 
 job I 
 
 Pick. What do you mean ? 
 
 First Thief. Mean ! Why, is it to be a plain robbery, or — you un- 
 dei-sti^nd? 
 
 Pick. Not if we can help it; but if there's any resistance, spare 
 no one, in order to destroy all evidence. ( The door is opeueti bi/ 
 JuNiPEB.) Ha ! the door is opened — come ! 
 
 (Music — Thieves enter Franklin's house, B. in flat. 
 
 Alicia^ comes forward, u 
 
 All. They will be murdered ! How shall I act ? Shall I cry aloud 
 for help?— no, no — they may be sacrificed in the tumult! Let me 
 be dumb if I can, whilst I seek efifectual jissistance. Louisa ! Frank- 
 lin ! I fly to save you. (Exit u 
 
 Enter Veenon (his dres.i disordered) and Glanvillk, b. 
 
 Ver. (L.) No, no— I say it was not .sherry, it was brandy ; good, 
 glorious brandy ! My heart is like a volcano with it now. 
 Olan. (It.) I say it was sherry. 
 Ver. And 1 say it was not. 
 
90 FIFTEEM TEAB8 OF A DBUMKASD'S UFB. 
 
 Glaiu Would j'onr quarrel witb me ? 
 
 Vet: Quarrel ! Why uot? I'm a man, I hope — five iimes a man, 
 for I've driiuk as many bottles. 
 Glan. No matter — you are. wrong. 
 
 Vet: Say that again, and if you do 
 
 Olan. What ! am I threatened? Let this end it, then! 
 
 (Draws a knife and stabs Vebnon, who es^plaims, "Villain!" 
 and drawing a pistol from }iis breast, fires it at Glantiluj, 
 who falls. At this instatit, the itimules of Fbanklin's house 
 are alarmed. T'he Thieves msh out, thinkitig themselves be- 
 • irayed. Atjcia runs on with neighbors from the l. , who over- 
 come the Thieves, and Juniper atid Copsewood, rcho are iden- 
 tified with them, a pocket-book falling from Cophewoov' a pockeL 
 AtiTcta supports Iter wowuied husbatid. Fidure, 
 
 Neighbors secure Neighbors secure 
 
 ■PicTii^><^ «"<i ^ JuNrPEB and 
 ^^ ^rKi*«es. B.C. CoPSEwooz>,i.^ 4^ 
 
 Neighbor, 
 ENS OF ACT n> 
 
 A lapse often years betweett the seco}ui atid third ads. 
 
 ACT IIL 
 
 Scene I. — B-ont Landscape, (httage on b. 
 Enter Winqbibo atid Doobose, i« 
 
 Wing. (B.) Well, honest Dogrose, this is a busy day for you, eh? 
 Dog. (l) Yes, sir ; and all I hope is, that Miss Isabella will be 
 happier to-day, than poor Madam Veruon, her aunt, is likely to be. 
 
FIFTEEN YEARS OF A DUUNKABD's UTS. 31 
 
 Wing. Well, I wish her J03' with all uiy sooL 
 
 Dog. And so do I, sir. 
 
 Wing. I have heard that Vemou is dead. Is it so? 
 
 Dig. Why, so we believe, sir; 'tis now ten j'eare since he was 
 heard of ; lie had an affray with that Glanville you have heard me 
 speak about, and after that he went abroad, and no tidings have since 
 reached us ; his wTfe and sou have since that time been protected by 
 Mr. Franklin. But, ble-ss me ! I've so much to do, that I can't waste 
 another moment in talk — not a moment— so good morning, sir, good 
 morning. (Meit l.. 
 
 Wing. Good day, friend. Ah, yonder I pee the villagers assem- 
 bling. I'll e'n mingle with them until the party joins us. (Exit i* 
 
 Elder Alicia and Isabella /)0?)i cottage, b. 
 
 I.<ia. (E.) ^ly dearest madam, why should yon on this day cherish 
 such gloomy thoughts? I have watched you when you knew it not, 
 have seen you, but an hour since, gaze on me with a look of bitterest 
 anguish, and only turn away to sigh and weep. 
 
 Ali. (L.) Bless you, my child, bless yon! (Aside.) Oh! Ver- 
 non ! 
 
 I.sa. Tears again ! Dear madam, the grave has closed o'er my 
 uncle this many a year. Why revert to this? 
 
 Ali. 'Tis rumored so ; but how or where he died we have no direct 
 proof. Heaven pardon me, but I almost fear he lives. 
 
 Jsn. Fear, madam, fear ! 
 
 Ali. Aye — death must have been terrible to him, come when it 
 would , but life, if he still lives, and with that frightful vice craving 
 within liim— oh, what a spectacle of crime and horror. No, no, it 
 cannot be — at least, I pniy not — I would rather gaze upon his tomb- 
 stone than meet his living eye. But 'tis unjust towards you, my 
 child, to indulge these thoughts. 
 
 Isa, Here comes my father. 
 
 Enter Fkanklin, /roiu cottage, b. 
 
 R'ank. My dearest Isabella, your mother should have lived to see 
 this day. 
 
 E.iter DoGBOSE, l. 
 
 Dog. Oh, sir, sir — here are all the good neighbors in attendance. 
 FraiJc. We attend ; come, Isabella. 
 
 (Exeunt Isabella, FRANKLm and Aucia, l. 
 Dog. (Looking off, L.) There they go, happy as larks. Ah, that 
 I was young again, the swett goUleu age frouj eighteen to thirty. 
 
 Eater GLANViUiE, carrying a pack, from b. — crosses to l., throws down 
 pack. 
 
 Dog. No light oompnuiou that for a hot day's march, eh, friend? 
 
S2 ViriEffiN XiCAUS OF A DBUMKABD's lilFB. 
 
 Olaii. (u) Yoli speak truly — yet I have tnidged with it inauy n 
 weiiry mile. If yon Cave chanty of a man, give uie a cnp of watt-r. 
 
 Dog. Water ! That's a bad couuuotiity to tmvel with ; perhaps I 
 may fiud you a better ; stay here till I retiiru. (Ex'U B. into collage. 
 
 GUui, So, Glauville, after ten years wauderiug, after all your vil- 
 lanies, what are you? A mendicant, or little better. Hiuited by the 
 unceasing pereecutiou of Frankliu, who detected ihe forf^ery, 1 hiive 
 lived an exile from my country. Why do I return? Perhaps death 
 has laid my enemy iu his grave, and then 
 
 Re-enie)- Dogbose, b., with a flask. At (Ms momenf, Ykkkov, gruy- 
 heuded and in tatters, is seai to look in from toing, l. 
 
 Dog. Here, friend, this, I take it, will put new life into your feet. 
 Farewell, and a good journey to you. 
 
 (Exit It. Glanville j>u/s thefUtsk to his lips. 
 
 Elder Vkbnon, l., hwries down beside Glanviuue and lays his hand on 
 his shoxdder. 
 
 Ver. A drop ! but cue drop for the love of heaven. I am staiT- 
 ing. 
 
 Glan. Starving — this is not for a hungry man — 'tis brandy. 
 
 Ver. Brandy ! 'Tis food, raiment, all to me. A drop ! but one 
 drop. 
 
 67a?!. No, beg it as I have done. 
 
 (Glanvilij; looks sullenly at Vernon, «?id goes off with pack, l. 
 
 Vei: He's gone ; my limbs can scarcely support me to the door — 
 yet I must endeavor. ( Slriving to get to the cottage, he staggers and 
 falls. ) 'Tis over — death creeps upon me. 
 
 Jie-€)der Isabella, l. 
 
 i.svt. Ah, yonder wretched man — some poor traveler o'erwearied in 
 liis journey — or, heavens, perhaps dead — for he shows no signs of 
 life he breathes — I'll iu and bring some aid. (Exit into cottage, it., 
 and returns with lotiie. ) Come, cheerly, good man 1 (VjiBNON je- 
 vives.J Cheerly, you are among friends. 
 
 Ver. Friends ! 'Tis a strange word to my ear. I thank you — you 
 have a gentle heart. 
 
 Isa. Here is wine. 
 
 Ver. Wine ! ( With an effort he seizes it, and empties the flask. ) 
 There is life iu every drop ; 'tis long since I have tasted it 
 
 Isa. Whither are you journeying ? 
 
 Ver. Nowhere ; tlie whole world presents an equal path to me. 
 
 Isa. Have you no kindred? 
 
 Vei: Ask me not— 'tis a question I dare not ask myself. Kindred I 
 Dh, 'tis a tale of sorrow. 
 
 Isa. Indeed ! then I'll not hear it, for this is my birthday. 
 
 Ver. Your birthday — a wretch's blessing wait upon you. 
 
FlTXEilN YEARS OF A DEUNKAKD's UFB. 33 
 
 Isa. Here, my good mau, is money — take it, and heaven bless 
 you. (Exit into cottage, n. 
 
 Ver. Alicia, my murdered wife — for well I know tlie gx-ave must, 
 long 'ere this, have held yon, my boy, my son — my son! The drun- 
 kard has no sou, no wife, no friend ; with oue fniutic grasp he tears 
 from his heart all ties of blood and honor. Oh ! that I had ne'er been 
 Ijoru — ue'er had life to crawl a wretched outcast, hateful to the woild, 
 loathsome to myself But no, 1 must not reflect —'tis horror. Here 
 is mouey, 'twill buy me— what? No matter, I feel myself grow fran- 
 tic, and with the greater madness must I put down the less. Ah ! 
 there is an inn — my heart is burstiug — my throat's on fire — let me, 
 though in frenzy, strive to quench it. (Rxishes off, l. 
 
 Scene II. — The Inside of a Gountry Tnn. Door in flat, l. 
 Bttstics discovered seated drinking at b. table. Landlobd, a. 
 
 First Eus. So, master, there's been a gala to-day in parish. 
 Laud. Yes, 'tis the birthday of Squire Fi-auklin's daughter ; and 
 what have you to say to that? 
 
 First Bus. Say, why nothing, but here's my good wishes to her. 
 
 Elder Copsewood, door in flat, l., his appearance that of extreme misery. 
 
 Copse. ( Sits at table, l. ) Bring me some ale. Well, what do you 
 look at ? 
 
 Land. You've mouey in your purse, I hope. 
 
 Copse. Perhaps 1 have. 
 
 Land. Well, theu, perhaps I'll draw you the ale ; but that we may 
 neither of us be left to doubt, suppose you show me a glimpse of 
 your coin first. 
 
 G^pse. (Gives money.) There, 'tis my last. 
 
 Laud. Sorry for it. 
 
 Copse. Indeed. 
 
 iMud. Yes ; for both our sakes. CMeil r. 
 
 Copse. Aud is there never a true fellow among you to ask a stranger 
 to wet his lips? What, all silent? AVcll, no matter. (The Rustics, 
 having finished drinking, go off, one by one, at door in flat, l.) A clear 
 house ! Well, Tom Copsewood, aud here you are after fifteen years 
 of madness, lor I can find no better word, an old, decrepit pauper — 
 name aud health lost — and for what — for what ? 
 
 Re-enter Landix)ud, r. 
 
 Cbpse. Oh, the ale, the ale ! ( Takes ale and greedily swallows it. 
 
34 FIFTEEN TEAES OF A DKONKABd's LIFE. 
 
 Land, (c.) You are a strauger about these parts? 
 
 Copse. ( At 1m table. ) Aye, just put ashore. 
 
 Laud. Just put on sliore. Wliy, there has been no vessel ueai 
 here this week past but the convict ship uow iu the roads. You didu'l 
 come passenger iu her, did you ? 
 
 Copse. ^Vhy, no matter for Ihat. 
 
 Land. And what's your business iu this part of the country? 
 
 Copse. To get work, if I can fiud any one charitable enough to 
 employ me ; but I fear the sick and the old can obtain but tew mas- 
 ters. 
 
 Land. Work ! "What can you do ? 
 
 Copse. Anything. At least I am willing to tr)'. 
 
 LuncL I'm afraid you will stand a bad chance, friend. There 
 is something suspicious about you that would prevent a respecta- 
 ble 
 
 Copse. Yes, there it is. If a man once fall, no matter when — no 
 matter how he may have suffered — repented of the rashness — the good 
 respectable people of this world raise their hands, set up the long 
 loud cry ; and the young rogue, whom accident may have at first 
 seduced, becomes iu selt-defence confirmed in crime, and dies a har- 
 dened ruffian — when a timely hand — but no matter — you speak the 
 common tongue, and I must starve. 
 
 La)id. No— I would serve you. 
 
 Copse. Would you? 
 
 Land. Yes. I like prudence, and have practiced it — but not that 
 cold and calculating foresight which you, and rightly, too, condemn. 
 You may have done wrong once. Well, show me the man that has 
 not, and let him tell you to starve on the highway — I have committed 
 many an error, and have no right to say so, nor will 1. 
 
 Copse. Bless you ! I thought you oue of those hard-faced men, 
 whose looks 
 
 Land. Why, as for looks, friends, I fear if either of us were to be 
 recomniended by looks, neither would stand much chance of prefer- 
 ment. 
 
 Copse. I will deserve j'our kindness — be sure I will. 
 
 Land. Do so, and you may live peaceably. But, I sa}', I have a 
 little experience iu these matters — uow by youi" face I should judge 
 you had not lived on water nil your life? 
 
 Copse. No — there it is— there — but that's past, depend on it ; I 
 now see the guilt, the horror, the sin of it, and am determined to 
 live and die a sober, reformed old man. You will not judge a man 
 by his outward appeamnce ? 
 
 Land. No, uot altogether. I judge of the poor, oppres-sed man 
 as I do of my lime trees in winter ; well, they look bare and ragged 
 enough, but shall I cut them down for fire-wood ? No ; for the 
 spring comes and they put forth their leaves, and hung out their 
 flowers iu the air, giving a cooling shade, and shedding sweetue&i 
 
ZIFTBEM XEABS OF A DBCNEABD'b IJFK. 35 
 
 round about. And so I hope a like goodly change iu you. But come 
 with me. 
 
 Copse. To the world's end. You have poured oil upon my bruised 
 heart— you have taken a load from my brain. Drink ! no never again 
 — never, here I'll swear 
 
 Land. ( Stops him. ) You shall do no such thing ; if gratitude 
 cannot bind men, oaths have no power. To-day my servant quitted 
 ine, you shall supply his place, and even now, must enter on your 
 business. There is a hamper of wine and brandy to take up to the 
 manor-house — mind, be worthy of my trust. 
 
 Copse. Worthy ! May heaven strike me from the earth when I 
 disgrace it. (Extant b. 
 
 Scene III. — A Front Grove. 
 Elder Fbankun and Wingbird, l. 
 
 Frank, (k.) Well, if you cannot dine, at least j'ou'll spend the 
 evening with us. 
 
 Wing. (L.) With all my heart. This, neighbor Franklin, must 
 be a happy day for you. 
 
 Frank. It is ; and yet its brightness is at intervals shadowed by 
 gloomy tlioughts. 
 
 Wing. Niiy, all weakness, man. 
 
 Frank. Poor Vernon ! my poor misguided, wretched friend ! I 
 cannot think of him even now without emotion. 
 
 Wing. Nor without feeling, I should imagine ; how nobly you 
 have acted towards him by protecting his wife and child. 
 
 Frank. It was my duty. I have now but one wish ungrntified — 
 and yet, living us it does with vengeance, it is unworthy of my yeans. 
 Yet could I brnig that villain Glanville to his earthly compt— could 
 I but see the miscreant who, with devilish subtlety, lured the infatu- 
 ated Vernon to destructien— could I but see him prostrate at the foot 
 of justice— I had then no wish, no hope, ungratified. 
 
 Wing. But the forgery, of which Glaanville was guilty, has been 
 made manifest to the whole world. 
 
 Frank. Yes ; yet the culprit has hitherto escaped ; whetlier, in- 
 deed, he now exists is a matter of conjecture. Had Vernon's pistol 
 been true, he had long since been numbered with the dead. Even 
 there, however, my wretched friend was foiled, and, though severely 
 wounded by the hand of the assassin, was compelled to seek in a 
 foreign land an asylum safe from the outx-aged law. 
 
 Elder Dogbose, b. 
 
 Dog. ( To Fbanklin. ) Sir, the guests are all waiting for you— 
 
86 FIFTEEN TEABS OF A DBDMKABD's UFB. 
 
 the seivauts have been senrcbing for yon — Miss Isabella has almost 
 been crying for you — and here I'm come 
 
 Fianlc. Well, well, I attend you. ( Oiosses to R. ) Mind, Wing- 
 bird, you are expected. 
 
 Wing. I will not fail. (Exit Frankun, b. 
 
 Dog. Be sure, sir, yon don't, for I can tell you tliere'll be i-ure 
 siwrt. There's the musicians invited, half the vilLigers too and 
 more than that, there is to be a little fete in the servant's hall. You'll 
 be sure, then, not to fail— because, between you and me, the mob of 
 the spectators will not, I am afraid, comprehend the beauty of what I 
 have done ; now you are a man of taste, and will take it in a minute 
 — for if there is an annoyance, it is to have done a good thing, and to 
 find no one that understands it. (Exeunt severally, B. 
 
 Enter Copsewood, toith basket, i» 
 
 Copse. I am a new man — I feel as I have not felt these ten years ; 
 I seem to have shaken off the iufinnities of time and dist-ipation, and 
 to have become young and vigorous again. I am to take this wine 
 and brandy to the manor house — aye, and I will— every drop of it — 
 every drop. I haven't staid once to look at my charge — let me see if 
 it be all right. (Fids down h'isket and takes bodies out, as ifconntlitg 
 them.) How they sparkle ! Ha! ( Holding one up. ) 1 can see the 
 beads upon it, bright and glistening as the sun. But what's that to 
 me ? It's not mine — not mine. 
 
 jBt/ej- Veenon, l. 
 
 Ver. (L.a) I have it — I have — eh! ( Seeing bottles. ) How now, 
 comrade ? 
 
 Copse. (B.O.) Well, what are you looking at? It's not mine — not 
 mine — or you should be welcome, heartily welcome. Would you be- 
 lieve it now ? I have carried this heavy basket half a mile, and never 
 once stopped to draw a cork. 
 
 Ver, Impossible ! 
 
 (hpse. It's a melancholy fact. Ha ! how they sparkle. I wonder 
 if all the corks are in tight? ( Trying them. ) Yes — yes. 
 
 Ver. Well, comrade, I see you are one of the fine old school, no 
 Blinker, whatever it may be. Here — here's a dnxught for you— it's 
 brandy, real brandy. (Giving flask. 
 
 Copse. Brandy ! No, I mustn't — I mustn't touch it. 
 
 Vei: You won't? Well, then 
 
 Copse. No, no— I won't oflfend you by refusing — I'll just wet my 
 lips— but I don't want it — (drinks heailily.) — I don't want it 
 (Drinks again.) Oh, there's nothing like it? Oh, what a world 
 would this be, if all the rivers were brsiudy, and the green fields 
 tobacco. 
 
 Ver. You say rightly — rightly. But, hallo! friend, you have 
 emptied the flask. 
 
FIFTEEK YEABS 07 A DBTTMKABD'S LIFE. 37 
 
 Copse. It can't be ! ( Taking flask. ) So I have— that's the only 
 fault I find with my mouth — though I've known it for the last forty 
 years, I can't trust it with a full bottle. 
 
 Ver. No matter ; now you know it's your turn. 
 
 Copse. What, j'ou meau — no, I can't — it's not mine — they are all 
 counted, and the corks are all in so infernally tight. 
 
 Ver. And don't you yet know how to empty a bottle without draw- 
 ing a cork ? 
 
 Copse. Without drawing a cork ? No, that's a trick I should like 
 to see — that trick above all things. 
 
 Ver. You shall see it. (ViiuNON looks about and picks up a straw. ) 
 Now then — stay, here's a gimlet. ( Boies a hole through cork, through 
 which he puts the straw. ) There now, drink — there's a touch of prac- 
 tical philosophy for you. 
 
 Copse. ( Who has dnaik. J Philosophy ! I don't know what you 
 call philosophy — but hero's liquor, and we'll not part till we've done 
 some business with it. You're a clever fellow — give us your hand — 
 come with me — here we shall be seen ; we'll go down yonder lane, 
 and make a hole in the cork of every one of them — what's half a pint 
 out of each of them ? Then with the help of a bottle or two from the 
 servants, we'll make a rare night of it. Come along, you're a boy of 
 my own heart. Come. (Eeeunt, b. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Garden with an Apartment opening to it with folding 
 daws, o. 
 
 Enter Isabella, At-thta and Fbanslin, from !<. 
 
 Ali. (c.) Do not, my dearest child, misconstrue my motives, 
 whilst I withdmw myself thus early from the festivities that await 
 you. I am not well, and should but cast a shadow o'er your mirth. 
 Isa. (B. ) Nay, dear madam, but for another hour. 
 Frank, (l.) Do not ask it 
 
 Ali. Bless you, my child, bless you. Return to your friends, 
 whilst I, within my silent chamber, call on heaven to shed around 
 you its choicest blessings — peace and innocence. 
 
 (Music — Isabella kneels to Axjcu, she blesses her and exits into 
 chamber, c. 
 
 Entej- DooROSE, l. 
 
 Dog. (L.) Come, sir, now the grand affair will commence ; all the 
 actors are in readiness, and all they want is an audience ; "fit audi- 
 ence find, though few," as the poet says. 
 
So flFTEEN XEABS OF A SUDNKABD 8 UFS. 
 
 Isa. And pray what's the subject of this goodly sight? 
 
 Dog, The subject? No, no, uot ft word upou that — let the sub- 
 ject, like a suake, uutwist itself, theu all you have to do ia to applaud 
 aud wonder. But j'ou are uot couiiug. 
 
 Frank. As master of the cereiuouies, lead on ; we attend with due 
 submission. 
 
 (Exewil DoQtLOBK, followed by Fbankun and Isabella, l. 
 
 Enter Copsewood and Vernon, each can~ying jt boille, B. 
 
 Copse. (L.C.) I told you we should each get a bottle for our pains 
 — but where to drink it, eh? Here's a pretty spot! Oh, I kuuw 
 where I am ; through that chamber leads to the store-room, where I 
 saw them take the wiue. 
 
 Ver. (B.O.) Well, here's to our better acquaintance, brother. 
 
 Copse. Better acquaiutauce ! We'll never leave one another 
 agaiu ; — no, no, we are made for bosom friends— how stands your 
 bottle ? 
 
 Ver. Why, how do you think it should ? I have had it twice lo 
 my mouth ; you wouldn't be so imcousciouable as to expect any in it, 
 would you? 
 
 Copse. No, for look at mine — I have only taken one di-aught and 
 a half — and see — see what mischief I've done. 
 
 Vei: Well, is no more to be had ? 
 
 Copse. I cau't Siiy — what do you think ? 
 
 Ver. Suppose you try that room? f Points off, c 
 
 Copse. Ah ! there would be danger iu it — I've had one warning. 
 
 Ver. How ? 
 
 Copse. Ten years ago, I was seized and tried with a gang of bur- 
 glars — aud why? I was drunk, aud stolen goods were found upon 
 me — I was innocent, though — innocent as 
 
 Vei\ Aye, aye — that of course, but that came of not knowing your 
 company — now, when you are diinkiug with an honest, trusty friend, 
 like ine 
 
 Copse. No, no — I won't — I want strength to 
 
 Vei: , Do you ? Well, then, here it is ! ( Takes out bottle. 
 
 Copse. What! another? 
 
 Ver. Aye, 'tis the last though — come, drink, drink, and then for 
 more. 
 
 Copse. (Bnnks — and after a pause. ) No, no— I can't. 
 
 Ver. Coward ! 
 
 Copse. What ! 
 
 Ver. Behold ! I'll venture. 
 
 Copse. No, no — if you are detected ! 
 
 Ver. I am armed. 
 
 Copse. But you would not use violence ? 
 
 Ver. No — except for self-preservation. I know 'tis wrong, but 
 the devil, drunkenness, urges me on. The wine, you say, is to be 
 had through that room— I will have it— stay here and watch. 
 
FIFTEEK TEABS 07 A DBTTITKABD's UVE. 39 
 
 (hpse. Be catitious, then. 
 Vet: Sileuce and 'tis oura. 
 
 (Music. Vebnon goes into chamber, o., aixd Copsewood goes 
 slowly off L. as watching. 
 
 Elder GLANTHiLE, e. 
 
 Olnn. All is discovered ! I am in the ver}' bouse of my oppreasor. 
 Wliiit's to be doue? Those drunkards ! Could I but strike Fraukliu, 
 and fix the deed on them — ah ! it shall be so ! f Takes out pistol. ) 
 At the alarm, Franklin will doubtless appear — in the confusion he 
 will prove an easy prey. ( Ooes up to c. door and calls out. ) What ! 
 house ! within there — thieves ! thieves ! 
 
 (AuciA screams loif/iiu —Vernon is heard to exclaim, " Ha ! be- 
 trayed ! then, murder, do thj' worst !" Alicia runs from the 
 chamber, wounded, and exclaiming, "Murder! murder!" she 
 is followed by Vernon, holding a dagger. Franklin, Isabella 
 and others run in from l. ^.s- Frankijn appears, Glanvillji 
 discharges his pistol from B., the bali slrUces Vernon, o. 
 Olan. Ah, foiled ! 
 Fra)ik. That voice ! Glauville ! 
 
 Copsewood i-ushiugfrom the a'oxod, L. 
 
 Copse. Glanville ! where ! ah !— there stands the villain !— die ! 
 (Copsewood stabs Glanville, who falls ; he is about to stab him- 
 self ichen he is restrained by Rustics. 
 Ver. ( Who is raised up. ) Oh 1 wretched Vernon. 
 Omnes. Vernon ! 
 
 Ali. Vernon ! Almighl)' powers ! Vernon ! my hnsband ! my 
 
 Ver. Thy husband? (Recognising her.) Alicia — it is, it is. 
 Heaven forgive me — I am thy murderer ! 
 
 (Falls. Alicia m/ilces an effort to embrace him as he is falling, 
 when she sinks in Franklin's arms. 
 
 Disposition of Characters. 
 Bxrana Bustic Rustics, &o. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 OUBTAIK. 
 
aCSB LIBRARY 
 
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 THE ETHIOP 
 
 PKICE 15 C] 
 
 1 Robert Make-Airs. 
 
 2 Box and Oox. 
 
 3 Mazeppa. 
 
 4 United States Mail. 
 
 5 The Coopers. 
 
 6 Old Dad'8 Cabin. 
 
 7 The Rival Lovers. 
 
 8 The Sham Doctor. 
 
 9 Jolly Millers. 
 
 10 Villikius and his Dinah. 
 
 11 The Quack Doctor. 
 
 12 Tha Mystic Spell. 
 
 13 The Black Statue. 
 
 14 Uncle Jeflf. 
 
 15 The MischieTons Nigger. 
 
 16 The Black Shoemaker. 
 
 17 The Magic Penny. 
 
 18 The Wreck. 
 
 19 Oh Hush ; or, The Virginny Cu- 
 
 20 The Portrait Painter. [pida. 
 
 21 The Hop of Fashion. 
 
 22 Bonfc Squash. 
 
 23 The Virginia Mummy. 
 
 24 Thieves at the Mill. 
 
 25 Comedy of Errors. . 
 
 26 Lea Miserables. 
 
 27 New Year's Calls. 
 
 28 Troublesome Servant 
 
 29 Great Arrival. 
 
 30 Rooms to Let. 
 
 31 Black Crook Burlesque. 
 
 32 Ticket Taker. 
 
 33 Hypochondriac. 
 
 34 William Tell. 
 
 35 Rose Dale. 
 
 36 Feast. 
 
 37 Feuian Spy. 
 
 38 Jack's the Lad. 
 
 39 Othello. 
 
 40 Camille. 
 
 41 Nobody's Son. 
 
 42 Sports on a Lark. 
 
 43 Actor and Singer. 
 
 44 Shylock. 
 
 45 Qnarrelsome Servants. 
 
 46 Haunted House. 
 
 47 No Cure, No Pay. 
 
 48 Fighting for the Union. 
 
 49 Hamlet the Dainty. 
 
 50 Corsican Twins. 
 
 51 Deaf — in a Horn. ^ 
 
 52 Challenge Dance. 
 
 53 De Trouble begins at Nine. 
 
 54 Scenes at Gurney's. 
 
 55 16,000 Years Ago. 
 
 1 
 
 57 Black Mail. 
 
 58 Highest Price for Old Clothes. 
 
 59 Howls from the Owl Train. 
 
 60 Old Hunks. 
 
 61 The Three Black Smiths. 
 
 62 Turkeys in Season. 
 
 63 Juba. 
 
 64 A Night wid Brudder Bones. 
 
 65 Dixie. 
 
 66 King Cuffee. 
 
 67 Old Zip Coon. 
 
 68 Cooney in de Hollow. 
 
 69 Porgy Joe. 
 
 70 Gallus Jake. 
 
 71 De Coon Hunt 
 
 72 Don Cato. 
 
 73 Sambo's Return. 
 
 74 Under de Kerosene. 
 
 75 Mysterious Stranger. 
 
 76 De Debbil and Dr. Fauslum. 
 
 77 De Old Gum Game. 
 
 78 Hunk's Wedding Day. 
 
 79 De Octoroon. 
 
 80 De Old Kentucky Home. 
 
 81 Luciuda's Wedding. 
 
 82 Mumbo Jum. 
 
 83 De Creole Ball. 
 
 84 Mishaps of Ciesar Cram. 
 
 85 Pete's Luck. 
 
 " 86 Pete and Ephraim. 
 
 87 Jube Hawkins. 
 
 88 De Darkey's Dream. 
 
 89 Chris Johnson. 
 
 90 Scipio Africanus. 
 
 91 De Ghost ob Bone Squash. 
 
 92 De Darkey Tragedian. 
 
 93 Possum Fat. 
 
 94 Dat Same Old Coon. 
 
 95 Popsey Dean. 
 
 96 De Rival Mokes. 
 
 97 Uncle Tom. 
 
 98 Desdemonum. 
 
 99 Up Head 
 
 100 Do Maid ob de Hunkpimcas. 
 
 101 Do Trail ob Blood. 
 
 102 De Debbil and de Maiden. 
 
 103 De Cream ob Tenors. 
 
 104 Old Undo l«lly. 
 1(»5 All Elephant on Ice. 
 
 106 A Maiia.Ljer in a Fix. 
 
 107 Bonrs at a Raffle. 
 
 108 Aunty Chloe. 
 
 109 Damung Mad. 
 
 110 Julianna Johnson. 
 
 Either of the above will be sent by mail, on receipt of price, by 
 
 HAPPY HOURS CO:\n'ANY, 
 
 No. 1 Chambers Street, New York. 
 
THE ACTING DRAMA 
 
 PRICE 15 CENTS EACH. 
 
 1 Single Life. _ 
 
 2 The Boarding School. 
 
 3 The Spitfire. 
 
 4 The Iiish Dragoon. 
 
 5 The School for Tigers. 
 
 ! 6 C.abrielle cle Belle Isle. 
 
 7 The Tipperary Legacy. 
 
 8 Deeds of Dreadful Note. 
 J i) \. Peculiar Position. 
 
 'o A Private Inqu-ry. 
 H I'll Tell Vour Wife. ^ 
 '2 The Fast Family. 
 13 Antony and Cleopatra 
 Married and Settled. 
 . 14 My Friend in the Straps 
 ! 15 The School for Scheming, 
 
 (Love and Money). 
 I 16 Our Mary Anne. 
 
 17 Miseries of Human Life. 
 
 18 An Irish Engagement. 
 
 ig How to Settle Accounts 
 
 With Your Laundress. 
 20 Advice Gratis. 
 2t A Hasty Conclusion. 
 
 22 Weak Points. 
 
 23 Grace Darling 
 
 24 A Gray Mare. 
 
 25 The Middle Temple. 
 
 26 The Original. 
 
 27 The Sentinel. 
 
 28 The Tiger at Large. 
 
 29 Why Did You Die? 
 
 30 Sayings and Doings. 
 
 31 The Twin Brothers. 
 
 32 Ask no Questions. 
 
 33 Cure for Coquettes. 
 
 The Cabin Boy. I 
 Who Stole the Spoons? 
 Mrs. Gamps Tea and Turn 
 The Village Doctor. [Out. 
 Family Pride. 
 Queen Mary. 
 '1 he Three Graces. 
 ■I"he Race Ball. 
 Presented at Court. 
 A Sign of Affection. 
 The Dancing Barber. 
 Who's Your Friend ? 
 Charity. 
 
 The Wicked World. 
 Mother and Child are Do- 
 ing Well. 
 Lying in Ordinary, 
 ■"he "■ 
 
 i 
 
 49 , _ 
 
 50 The Ringdoves. 
 
 THE AMATEUR STAGE. 
 
 Aladdin and the Wonder- 
 ful Lamp. 
 
 The Loves of Little Bo- 
 Peep and Little Boy Blue. 
 
 Little Silver Hair and the 
 Three Bears. 
 
 Robin Hood; or, the Merry 
 Men of Sherwood Forest. 
 
 Little Red Riding Hood. 
 
 The Frog Prince. 
 
 Blue Beard ; or, Female 
 Curiosity. 
 
 Jack, the Giant Killer. 
 
 Two Gentlemen at Mivarts 
 
 Dark Deeds. 
 
 Marry in Haste and Re- 
 pent at Leisure. 
 
 Wearing of the Green 
 
 The Result of a Nap. 
 
 Monsieur Pierre. 
 
 Virtue Victorious. 
 
 Love (Burlesque). 
 
 FBICE 15 CENTS EACH. 
 
 17 Afloat and Ashore. 
 
 18 Tragedy Transmogrified. 
 
 19 Fairy Freaks. 
 
 20 A Medical .Man. 
 
 21 Harlequin Little Red Rid- 
 
 ing Hood 
 
 22 Fireside Diplomacy. 
 
 23 Ingomar (Burlesque). 
 
 24 Money Makes the .Man. 
 
 25 The Happy Dispatch. 
 
 26 An Eligible Situation. 
 
 27 The Pel Lamb. 
 
 28 The Last Lily. 
 
 29 The Three Temptations. 
 
 30 Katharine and Petruchio 
 
 (Burlesque). 
 
 31 His First Brief. 
 
 32 'The Girls of the Period 
 
 33 Matched but not Mated. 
 
 34 Penelope Anne. 
 
 35 A Woman will be a Wo- 
 
 man. 
 
 36 Caught in his own Toils. 
 
 37 Cousin Florence. 
 
 38 Lucy's Love Lesson. 
 
 39 A Game of Billiards. 
 
 40 The Wrong Bottle 
 
 41 A Lyrical trover. 
 
 42 A Bad Temper. 
 
 43 Women's Rights. 
 
 44 Mischievous Bob. 
 
 45 A Pintof Ale.r 
 
 46 The Last Drop. 
 
 47 The Wine Cup. 
 
 48 Out in the Streets. 
 
 49 Mothers and Fathers. 
 
 50 Taken in and Done For. 
 
 51 All's Fair in Love and War 
 
 52 Dross from Gold. 
 
 53 Aunt Jerusha's Visit. 
 
 54 The Village Belle. 
 
 55 Lord Dundreary's Visit. 
 
 56 My Peter. 
 
 57 The Cream of Love. +" 
 
 THE VARIETY STAGE. 
 
 PRICE 15 CENTS EACH. 
 
 The Big Banana. 
 Dot Mad Tog. 
 A Gay Old Man Am L 
 The Law Allows it. 
 .\ Lcedle Misd.ike. 
 The Spelling Match. 
 There's Millions In It. 
 Tootle, Tootle, Too! 
 
 9 Dot Madrimonial Adver- j 17 I Love Your Wife 
 
 disement. 
 I 10 Mulcahy's Cat. 
 It Dot Qiiied L'itging>;. 
 
 12 All in der Family 
 
 13 Who Got the Pig? 
 
 14 A Mad Astronomer. 
 
 I 15 A Purty Shure Cure. 
 
 16 The Ould Man's Coat t.iils. 
 
 18 The Decree of Divorce. 
 
 19 Let those Laugh wlio Win. 
 
 20 A Dark Noight's Business, 
 
 21 The Lonely Pollvwog of 
 
 the Mill Pond. 
 
 22 The Dutchman in Ireland. 
 
 Either of the above will be sent by mail, on receipt of price, by 
 
 HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, 
 
 No. 1 Chambers Street, New Yqrk.