out the verge of probability, so I won't speak of I would bet anything it. Jes. Do not bet. Hen. Let us put it at once to the test. Jes. [quickly.] Pray don't! Pray don't! Hen. Pooh, nonsense! Dear Jessy, I request that you will say "Thank goodness the table is spread!" Jes. Do not be so childish. Hen. [who has been looking on to the lawn, comes forward, seats himself, and takes up the newspaper, reads for a short time, then looks over it at JESSY, throws it down, goes to her and gently says:] Well, have you thought over it? Will you give up being obstinate? Jes. [quickly throwing her work away.] How, Mr. Harford, obstinate? You know if there is any word that I detest it is that! I am not obstinate, say--and most especially not so in the present instance, but you are, for so obstinately persisting in so foolish a request. Hen. Now, dear wife, I beg you will! do "Thank goodness the table is spread!" Jes. [struggling with herself.] What a-what a foolish request! [Hesitatingly.] No, no! I will not say it. Hen. Do, do say it. Jes. No-no. Hen. [rather warmly.] You won't say it? Hen. [rising slowly from the table.] And can you refuse what I request? Jes. [rising.] But it would be so childish to say it. Hen. Childish or not, that's not the point; it is whether you will or will not fulfill my request? Jes. You are wrong in making such a request. Hen. And you act wrongly in refusing to do what I request. [They become more firm and decided. Jes. I act wrongly? That is the first time that you have ever said such a thing! Hen. It is also the first time that you have refused what I requested! Jes. And it is the first time that you have ever requested anything so thoughtless and childish! Hen. Thoughtless-childish! Is that the language of love? Jes. Can he who loves entreat anything so foolish of her he loves? Hen. Entreat, Mrs. Harford? I have only requested! Jes. Well, if you should entreat— Jes. If you should entreat Hen. Then, of course, you would not refuse me! Jes. Yes, even then I would; for if you entreated such a thing of me, you would lessen me in my own esteem. No, I will not say it. [Goes up to a side table and rings bell. Hen. Good gracious, how angry you have become! How decidedly you oppose yourself to me! Is this the tone that a wife should use to her husband? Jes. Is such a foolish request such a one as it becomes a husband to ask of his wife? room. Enter LUCY, R. H. Jes. Lucy, I left my handkerchief in my bed[Exit LUCY, R. H. Hen. Jessy, do not drive this, which was at first a jest, too far. Jes. Do I do so? No, sir; it is you who change jest into earnest. [Seats herself, and hastily snatches up her work. Enter JAMES, L. H., with decanters, which he places on the table. LUCY enters R. H., with handkerchief, which she gives to JESSY; she then passes JAMES, who, in pantomime, asks her if she will fulfill his request; she, in pantomime, refuses, and exits L. H. JAMES follows quickly, after shaking his fist. JESSY continues working, with her back to the table. Hen. But, Jessy dear, understand me; it is not on this foolish request I lay any stress, but only on your fulfilling my desire. Jes. Well, if it is so, I request you will not mention it again. Hen. But my request was first made, and therefore must first be attended to. I should not have thought it possible that you could have refused me anything Jes. [rising.] Indeed! I must never say noalways yes, yes, yes. I see you are like all the rest of your sex; you do not desire to have a loving wife-a tender, true and impartial helpmate— no, you desire that your wife should be your slave. Hen. My dear, you surprise me. What exaggeration is this? Jes. No, no, sir, with your demand for implicit obedience commences our subjection. But I never will be made a slave-no, never! I haven't read "Uncle Tom's Cabin " for nothing. I will assert and defend my rights, and neither threatening nor force shall bring me under subjection Hen. And "he shall be thy master." Jes. There, there, sir, was I not right? You will be the master, I the slave-you will command, I must obey. I understand and perceive your desire to lord it. I will obey you in all that is reasonable, but not in that which is unreasonable. Hen. [L.] Those are expressions never used to one whom we esteem. Jes. [R.] Such requests are likewise never made to one whom we esteem. Hen. Yes, but a jest Jes. You have made bitter earnest of it. [Cries.] Not a quarter of an hour ago you said you would never change, and now there you stand as cold and indifferent as if we had been married for twenty years. Hen. Now, now, don't cry-you know how that irritates me. Jes. [sobbing.] I can't help it if your conduct forces me to cry. Hen. [ironically.] Ah, goodness! what a villain I have already become! I force you to cry! Oh, wretched and much-to-be-pitied woman, in that your fate has linked you to such a brute! Jes. Go on! go on! add mockery to your cruelty. Who would have thought this an hour ago? I was so joyous-felt so happy-and now Hen. Do you think there are no unfortunate women in the world besides yourself? [JESSY continues crying. Aside.] Oh, this confounded crying! if her parents should come, what will they think? [Aloud.] Now, wife, now, Jessy, now, dearest-come, come, let's make it up. Jes. [taking her handkerchief from her eyes.] What, make it up? ཚ་ Hen. You won't? Jes. [gently.] But, Henry Hen. I was the first to give way, now you must complete it. Jes. You will insist on it? You will commence this quarrel again? Hen. And you, I know, will put an end to it. Say those few words, and I'm content. Jes. [after short hesitation.] Once for all-no! Hen. No! Good, good-very good! You know that this trifle would please me; but no, you won't do it. It may be obstinacy on my part to persist in it; but love would put up with such obstinacy and give way to it. You will not do so. These two or three stupid words are nothing in themselves; but by saying them you would give me a proof of your love. Go, go, and never more say that you love me. [Walks angrily up and down. Jes. You accuse me of obstinacy, and with what right? You yourself admit that your request is foolish, and yet you insist on it. [Gradually relaxing her decided tone.] Is that love? You see that your request pains and grieves me, but that does not affect you. Your cruelty has made me cry, and yet you are indifferent. On whose part, then, is there most obstinacy and want of love? Enter JAMES, L. 2 E. James. Mr. and Mrs. Harwood have come, sir! [He then goes and prepares to wait at table. Hen. [uneasy and softly.] Now, hide your tears, or what will they think? Jes. I'm sure I do not care if they know what has taken place. I am quite innocent. Enter MR. and MRS. HARWOOD, L. 2 E. Hen. My dear sir, I'm delighted to see you. Jes. Dearest mother! Mrs. H. I must scold you, daughter, for it is nearly a fortnight since you have been to see me. I had a great mind not to come this morning. Jes. Dear mother Mrs. H. Yes! rest easy-I know a young wife has something else to do than to think of her old mother. Har. The way of the world, old lady, the way of the world-a wife must leave her father and mother, eh? But you do think of us sometimes, don't you, my girl? Jes. Always, father, always! Hen. [anxiously watching JESSY.] Now, shall we seat ourselves? [MRS. HARWOOD takes a chair between HENRY and JESSY. Har. I've nothing to say against it, for I'm very tired and very hungry. [Sits L. of table. LUCY enters and places a dish on the table. JAMES takes hold of her, and asks, by signs, whether she will say what he has desired; she knocks his hand away, by signs refuses, and exit L. H. Har. Ha, ha, ha! Wife, you have put yourself betwixt the newly married couple. That's right, for if they sat together it might be pleasant to them, but very unpleasant to the rest of the company. Now, fill your glasses, and here is-Many such days as the present. Hen. Hem! [JESSY, R. of table, wipes her eyes and sets her glass down. Har. What's the matter? You do not seem inclined to drink that toast; and Eh, girl? a tear? I see, a little tiff! Hen. James! [Motions him to withdraw. Exit JAMES, L. H. Mrs. H. [behind table, R.] How can you ask? Let them settle it themselves. Hen. [behind table, L.] Oh! it is nothing, a trifle, not worth mentioning-and dear Jessy is something too sensitive. Jes. [bursting into tears.] Something else-accused of being too sensitive now! Hen. At least in the presence of your parentsMrs. H. Restrain yourself, Jessy, dear. Jes. I know it is wrong to give way to one's feelings, but I have had too great a cause, and cannot help it. Mrs. H. What! Son-in-law! Son-in-law! Har. [who has continued eating.] Wife, do not interfere in this, it concerns the children only. Hen. From Jessy's appearance it would seem as if I had deeply injured her. Now, you yourselves shall judge-for I'll tell you the whole affair. Har. Don't, son, don't; we have no desire to interfere in the quarrels of married people. [Eats. Hen. But I must justify myself. Har. [eating.] It ain't necessary. Hen. You might believe Har. We do not believe anything. Mrs. H. But pray let him; perhaps it may lead to a reconciliation. Her. I heard James. this morning, when he and Lucy had laid the cloth, desire her to say"Thank goodness the table is spread!" and they had a quarrel because she would not. I told Jessy this, and laughingly added that she had not such a will of her own, and in jest asked her to say it. She refused with such decided obstinacy and provoking perverseness, that at last we had angry words about it. Jes. [in tears.] There, you hear-obstinacy, perverseness, sensitiveness, reproached with all this. Now you can bear witness for me that I never was obstinate. Har. Why-no, girl-I can't exactly do that. Mrs. H. Now, husband, how can you wrong the poor child so-she was never obstinate. Be calm, Jessy, dear-we won't interfere, and you will soon be reconciled to one another. Jes. I fear not, for he still insists on my saying it. Mrs. H. [astonished.] What, son-in-law, do you still mean to say that you insist on it? Hen. Pray let the matter end. Har. Yes, let it end, or you will spoil my luncheon, and disturb my digestion. You are a foolish girl, Jessy, dear. And, son-in-law, you do right in gently curbing the self-willfulness of your young wife. She will be soon accustomed to it, like my old lady there, who does not know the meaning of the word refuse when I ask. And if I were to re- Mrs. H. You would not desire it, dear. Mrs. H. Why, then I wouldn't say it. Har. You will refuse to fulfill my request? Hen. My dear sir, this is folly. Pray speak of something else. Har. [rises.] Stop a minute, son-in-law, stop a minute. I've never seen the like of this before, and now I'll see the end of it. Elizabeth, dear, now just say, "Thank goodness the table is spread!" Mrs. H. Leave me alone. Mrs. H. No! Har. This is beyond a jest. Will you, through your own obstinacy, set your daughter such a bad example? Mrs. H. Here we have another example of past experience that the men always side together when they have the subjection and submission of woman in view. The father even takes part against his own daughter. Har. I take no one's part except my own. My daughter's and her husband's affairs do not concern me. I have only to settle with you, and I desire that you repeat those words. Mrs. H. Mr. H., Mr. H.! how can you ask anything so foolish of your wife? Har. Foolish or not, that's not it. This request is nothing more nor less than the touchstone of obedience, and if my historical knowledge serves me rightly, even so did Gesler hang his cap upon a pole, in order that the Swiss might greet it. This was the touchstone of their obedience. Mr. H. And, Mr. H., if my historical knowledge does ditto by me, it was because this request was so laughable, foolish and unmanly, that the Swiss revolted against their oppressors. Jes. Right, mamma, and we will act even as they did. Mrs. H. Yes, of course we will, my own child, and set ourselves in opposition to these self-elected lords of the creation. Jes. We are wives, but not submissive or inferiors. Har. Son-in-law, we've dropt in for it. The worst of it is, that it has thrown me out with my luncheon, and when I do not make a good luncheon, I never make a good dinner. Hen. Notwithstanding, we must give in to them Har. My dear fellow, I don't know. This is a quarrel by which neither party can gain anything. I've allowed myself to be irritated-got into a bit of a passion-but the specimen I have had of the enemies' powers and the difficulties to be overcome have cooled my courage, and I feel quite peaceably inclined. Besides, the women are not altogether wrong; for it is nearly as obstinate to persist in our demand as it is for them to persist in their refusal; and- [ Whispers—they retire L. Jes. [advancing R.] If I had at first for a moment imagined that so much would have come of such a trifle, I would have considered it a jest, and, as such, complied with it; but now I cannot do so. Mrs. H. On no account; for, if you were to do so, it would forever subject you to his imperious control. Jes. He shall see that I have a firm will. Mrs. H. Very proper. Do not give way a single inch. My husband may ask long enough before I will give in. Jes. You will support me, dear mother, will you not? Mrs. H. You may rely on that, my dear, and so will all the women of England. [They whisper. Har. The most prudent always gives in— Hen. I would willingly do it, but honorHar. Pooh, nonsense, honor! that often prevents a man from doing what is right. A jest commenced the quarrel, and let a jest put an end to it. Hen. If one could, by a jest sce the way. Ah! I think I [Exit R. H. Har. Come, come, a truce; your allied powers are too strong for me. But I must strengthen the fortifications in case of the worst. [Sits.] Ah! thank goodness the table is spread. Jes. Dear mother, shall we also?Mrs. H. Oh, yes, yes, do not let their folly deprive us of our luncheon. [Seat themselves R. of table. Re-enter HENRY, R., with two shawls. Hen. I come to make peace, and let us put an end to the war. I acknowledge that I was the chief cause of this quarrel, and to atone for this, I'll make you a present of one of these shawls. Í intended to have done so this morning, but our quarrel drove it out of my remembrance. Jes. [a little ashamed.] Henry, I scarcely Hen. Come, choose. Mrs. H. Among the Turks women may be sub-knowmissive and therefore inferiors-but we, thank goodness, live in a Christian land! Jes. The men appear to desire the introduction of Turkish customs, for in behavior they are Turks! Mrs. H. [more warmly.] But, heaven be Jes. At such a time-- Hen. Choose, choose, there's a good girl. [JESSY points to one, and suddenly withdraws her hand.] The right hand one? [She nods. He then puts one on the table and the other over her shoul Har. Yes, Miss Lucy, you have been the cause of all this disturbance. Mrs. H. Yes, it is all through you, and, as a Har. That's right, my children, you have very punishment, you must repeat aloud, and before wisely made an end of it. Hen. Peace is made. [JAMES and LUCY begin to clear table. Har. No, I hope to effect a reconciliation at a cheaper rate than that. It is all very well for a young husband like Harry to do so, but when he has had my experience he will know better. Mrs. H. You're a brute! [They retire up L. H. Hen. [R. C.] James, I hope you have brought Lucy into a state of obedience. James. [c.] No, sir, it is not to be done. us-"Thank goodness the table is spread!" [Al laugh.] Well? Har. Now, old lady, I think you have said it. Mrs. H. [down L.] Dear, yes. Well, there's an end of it. [Gives him her hand. Hen. Now, Lucy, you alone remain. Lucy. Upon my word I can't, sir. Jes. Do it, and in three weeks I'll see you are married Lucy. Married! "Thank goodness" COSTUMES.-MODERN. THE NEW YORK TRAGEDIES, / A CHOICE COLLECTION OF COMEDIES, WITH DRAMA FARCES, ETC.. CASTS OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c., ADAPTED TO THE HOME CIRCLE, PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND THE AMERICAN STAGE. VOL. 2. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by WHEAT & CORNETT, in the Ofice NO.14. Different Voices. Home home! He comes not home! Hark! from the woodland vale below Bome! bome! bome! Sam. [R.] Five o'clock, and father not yet returned from New Forest! An' he come not shortly the sun will rise, and roast the venison on his shoulders. [Calling.] Sister Barbara! Well, your rich men have no bowels for us lowly; they little think, while they are gorging on the fat haunch of a goodly buck, what fatigues we poor honest souls undergo in stealing it! Why, sister Barbara! Bar. [rising and coming forward, L. c.] I am here, brother Samson. Sam. Here! Marry! out upon you for an idle baggage! Why, you crawl like a snail. Bar. I prithee, now, do not chide me, Samson ! Sam. "Tis my humor. I am father's head man in his poaching; the rubs I take from him, who is above me, I hand down to you, who are below me. 'Tis the way of office, where every miserable devil domineers it over the next more miserable devil that's under him. You may scold sister Margery, an' you will; she's your younger by a twelvemonth. Bar. Truly, brother, I would not make any one unhappy for the world; I am content to do what I can to please, and to mind the house. Sam. Truly, a weighty matter! Thou art e'en ready to hang thyself for want of something to While away time. What hast thou much more to do than to trim the faggots, nurse thy mother, boil the pot, patch our jackets, kill the poultry, cure the hogs, feed the pigs, and comb the children? Bar. Many might think that no small charge, Samson. Sam. A mere nothing; while father and I (bate us but the mother and children) have the credit of purloining every single thing that you have the care of. We are up early and down late in the exercise of our industry. Bar. I wish father and you would give up the calling. Sam. No; there is one keen argument to pre vent us. Bar. What's that, brother? Sam. Hunger. Wouldst have us be rogues, and have our family starve? Give up poaching and deer-stealing! Oons! dost think we have no conscience? Yonder sits mother, poor soul! 'old, helpless and crazy. |