Mrs. F. Augustus, you speak in riddles. last week with Captain Popperton, or really I Fitz. Everything shall be explained, Louisa, at should have divorced you. [FITZHERBERT seizes four o'clock. Enter STRAPS, door L. Straps. I wants a word with you, sir, on the Q. T. Fitz. Q. T.; why, what's that? Straps. Lor, sir, didn't you larn that at Hoxford? Q. T.'s short for quiet, sir. Fitz. Well, then, short for quiet, speak out. Straps. Must I really, sir-with misses here and all? Fitz. Did you not hear me say so, sir? Straps. What, into this 'ere room, sir? Straps. [aside.] Oh! I see how it is-master's been lunchin' at the club. [Exit, door L. Fitz. Now, my dear, you will see how absurd you were making yourself. Enter STRAPS, showing in AUNT WIGGLES, door L. Straps. This way, mum; here's the boy with the raven locks as you used to be so fond of at Bromp[FITZHERBERT rushes to her and kisses her. ton. Exit STRAPS, L. AUNT WIGGLES by the hands and kisses her.] There, there, you are forgiven. [To MRS. FITZHERBERT.] And now, my dear, our acquaintance must be improved. Mrs. F. [throwing her arms around AUNT WIGGLES.] Oh, you dear old creature! [To FITZHERBERT.] So, Augustus, this was your mighty secret? Fitz. None other, my dear. Mrs. F. Well, I appreciate the motives that prompted you to silence. This is but another proof of your affection for me. Fitz. Ah, I told you this morning how anxious I am to make you happy; you did not believe me then-can you doubt me now? Mrs. F. [embracing him.] No, nor never will again, not even when you do not show me your letters. Fitz. No; but if they are in a lady's handwriting? Mrs. F. Ah! but you forget, my love, I shall know your aunt's again. Aunt W. Well, now, my children, as I shall have a great deal to say to you both, let me first of all get my things off. Mrs. F. You shall have the best room in the Aunt W. Oh! you truant - you naughty, wretched boy, to run away from poor old me. So you thought me an old chatterbox, did you? And house, dear aunt, and mind, you must stay at it's here you have been hiding all this long time. Honeysuckle Cottage forever evermore—shan't Well, I have half a mind to give you a good scold- she, Gus? ing; but come, you must have much to tell me,! and I'm dying to hear all the news. [Observing MRS. FITZHERBERT.] A lady! Ah, a neighbor, I suppose. Gus, pray introduce us. Fitz. My dear aunt Mrs. F. [aside.] What is this? Aunt! Fitz. Do you remember a pretty little girl I told you I had fallen in love with at a juvenile party once, during my old schooldays? Aunt W. Aye, indeed, you silly creature, you got quite thin that time with fretting after the little miss. Fitz. Do you also recollect, aunt, my telling you that none other but that pretty little girl should ever be your Gussy's wife? Aunt W. That I do; but pray to what may all this tend? Fitz. To this, my dear aunt: the love for that pretty little girl grew with manhood; the lady you see is the same little girl, and more, your Gussy's wife. Aunt W. Gus, Gus, what is this I hear, your wife? Fitz. My dear aunt, I own I have not done you right. Be this my apology. [Bringing MRS. FITZHERBERT forward.] Had I never seen the late Miss Johnson, perhaps you might have found me a partner; and though you may visit with your displeasure what you may deem an indiscretion on my part, I shall never cease to regard you but with the deepest affection. Aunt W. Now I see it all; this explains your sudden disappearance from town. Well, well, what an extraordinary boy you are! But it's just like you, you rogue. Fitz. If she only will, we will be the happiest couple in the world. [The three embrace, R. Aunt W. There, there, my children, kiss your old aunt, and we can talk of that another time. Enter STRAPS, door L., followed by MARY. Straps. [seeing them embrace.] There's a tria huna in juncta, as we used to say in Hoxford. My dooty to you, mum—glad to see you lookin' so well; why, I werrily believes as you're a-growin' younger, that I do, mum. Aunt W. Ah, Straps, I am glad to see that you are still with your young master, but I thought you too would have been married by this time. Straps. Vy you see, mum, Straps is villing, but in these matters two parties must decide. Hi think as 'ow this 'ere young 'ooman [pointing to MARY] can explain my position in society. Mary. Not I, Mr. Straps; you know you told me you were a bachelor of harts. Straps. Ah, my popskyvopski, but you have the power to confer new honors on me. Mary. How so? Straps. Vy, hif you and me pays a wisit to the hymeneal halter, Straps becomes master of a divinity. Mary. [taking his hand.] Oh, what an insinuvating creature it is, to be sure! Well, there's my hand. Fitz. Well, shall we adjourn? Mrs. F. I have just a few words to say to our friends in front. [Coming forward.] My dear ladies, you that are married, and you that are about to be married, permit me to offer a word of advice: never doubt the affections of your husbands have full confidence in their love for you, and depend upon it you will escape all the misery which I have experienced in endeavoring to fathom Fitz. Oh, aunt! Aunt W. Tut, tut, say no more about it. If the lady is as good as she looks, I don't think you have made a bad choice, but it's rather lucky MY HUSBAND'S SECRET. for you, you naughty boy, that Bessie Grey eloped COSTUMES.-MODERN. THE END. "That which pleases long, and pleases many, must possess some merit."-DR. JOHNSON. THE NEW YORK DRAMA TRAGEDIES. A CHOICE COLLECTION OF COMEDIES, WITH FARCES, ETC., CASTS OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c., ADAPTED TO THE HOME CIRCLE, PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND THE AMERICAN STAGE. NO.2. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by GEORGE W. WHEAT, in the Office of the TWO FLATS AND A SHARP: A Comedietta, in One Act. BY ALFRED MALTBY. CAST OF CHARACTERS. Major Keye (Arthur-A Flat).. Mrs. Major Keye (Eva-E Flat).. Mrs. Minor (B Sharp).... Globe Theatre, London. Mr. George Temple. Miss Linda Deitz. VOL.1. my wife's early love, and made her an offer when • he couldn't afford it. I hate early loves-no one ever marries a first love, and they're a nuisance all through after life. Now why doesn't Eva come to supper? I do detest being kept waiting for supper when I'm tired. Her mother is positively ruining her; and unless I assert myself, I shall lose every bit of authority I possess. I can't_ring for a servant, as I sent them all to bed; they have been up four nights in succession. I shall not wait much longer. [Paces the room. SCENE.-Interior. C., opening; doors R. and L.; fireplace up L.; a vase filled with paper spills on mantel-piece; supper laid for three; piano R.; chairs, &c. As the curtain rises ARTHUR is discovered standing at entrance at back, with his mother-in-law, who has a bedcandle in her hand. Arthur. I mean precisely what I say. And, moreover, let me tell you, that thanks to the influMrs. Minor. [kissing him on forehead.] Good ence of your precious mother, I am gradually benight, dear. Arthur. Good night-good night. [Exit MRS. MINOR, C. R. [Turns to audience, and pulls a wry face.] Dose as before. That old woman is the bore of my existence; this having to kiss and fondle one's mother-in-law night and morning, morning and night, is slowly but surely driving me to an early dinner-I mean the other thing. The end of it will be, I shall flare up and probably call her raspberry vinegar, then she'll call me an unfeeling monster, go away, and-we may be happy. It's all very well to have one's mother-in-law for a few weeks after marriage, just to put one's house in order, but hang it, here she has been these seven months, and has no more intention of moving than that piano! I forgave her trying to graft Eva onto old Broker; I even overlooked her misdirected energy in the matter of marriage settlements; but this continual shadow, falling between oneself and every object in life, is becoming unbearable. Just now Chalker came into our box at the opera-doosed if she didn't ask him to dinner! I hate Chalker, not because Chalker is his name that's bad enough—but because he was coming a nobody in my own house. Eva. And the probabilities are, your temper will not allow you to regain your position. Of what or whom do you complain now? Arthur. Of Chalker; if your mamma chooses to invite him here to dinner, she may dine with him, I won't. Eva. Poor Chalker! [Goes to chair at table, sits. Arthur. If he comes here, we dine out. [Sits. Eva. Really, Arthur, this sounds a trifle ridiculous; surely you don't wish me to think you are jealous. Arthur. Perhaps I am; and I don't quite know but that I should be better pleased if I saw a little of that quality in you. Eva. I fancy I have heard that jealous women are those who best know man's wicked nature: so suppose jealous men are those who best know themselves. Arthur. Thanks, many thanks. You are undoubtedly profiting by your mother's society. However, distinctly understand, I refuse to meet Chalker. I'm not going to have him here gloating over me, and congratulating himself on having nibbled the bait and missed the hook. Eva. This is downright rudeness. A certain amount, or rather an uncertain amount of temper one expects, and gets it, as inevitably as sand on a sponge; but such rudeness as Arthur. I've long wanted to let you know my mind, and I make use of this opportunity. Eva. I shall be glad of any opportunity to know your mind. -confound it-people ask me which is my wife. And, good heavens, if she happens to be overlooked in the matter of invitations, one has to get up a lot of frothy indignation and quarrel with one's best friends. Eva. Poor dear mamma!-what am I to do with her! Arthur. Marry her to Chalker, and beg him think it's you. Arthur. It's decided, at least, on this point. Of course Chalker's love was merely brotherly, Eva. Arthur, this is beyond endurance. You first loves always are; besides, you have quite would wish me to turn mamma out of doors, and enough change of society in your cousins. There's bid her seek shelter under the mercenary roof of young Fitz, every time he comes here: "Ah, strangers-perhaps to perish, unloved, untended, how d'ye do, Eva, dear ?"-bang goes a kiss. Then and uncared for. Captain Bruce: Ah, Eva, little lady, how do?" Arthur. Now, Eva; now, whenever I am about -bang goes another, and hang me if you don't to propose anything practical or reasonable, you seem to like it. Do you think these cousins would invariably burst into that circulating library mankiss and fondle you if you had bad teeth and a ner of yours. squint? Eva. And, pray, have I no reason to complain? Don't you invariably kiss Minnie when you meet? Arthur. Oh, Minnie; oh, that's quite another matter. Minnie and I have played together since we were so high. Eva. So, also, have I and Captain Bruce. Arthur. Yes, of course; but then you see that -oh! it's no use arguing with a woman. I object, and that ought to be sufficient. Eva. And would be, had you told me without this rudeness and loss of temper. Arthur. [angrily.] Now-now-Eva-now this is too bad. You know very well that if there is anything I pride myself on, it is my coolness on all occasions; and if you will persist-I say if you will persist-[About to bring his hand violently down upon table. MRS. MINOR puts her head in Mrs. M. No doubt; the theatre was dreadfully close. Once more, don't be late. Good night! Eva. Good night, ma! Arthur. [imitating her.] Good night, ma! [Exit MRS. MINOR. I wish to goodness you would make your ma understand that I didn't marry her. Eva. If you go on much longer in this unreasonable way you will compel me to say something extremely unpleasant. [A bell rings.] That is mamma's bell. [Goes to bell at fireplace. Arthur. What are you going to do? Eva. Call up one of the servants. Arthur. No-pardon me-no; I won't have the servants dragged out of their beds to tuck up that old woman. Eva. Then I must go myself. [Aside.] He's fearful to-night. Mamma is so irrepressible. [Aloud.] As my presence seems so irritating, I shall not return. Arthur. Leave the keys; I shall have a cigar. Eva. [putting keys on table.] Do. [Aside.] He cannot well quarrel with that, although it would not surprise me if he rang for the tongs to curl the smoke his own way. [Exit EVA. Arthur. [goes to sideboard and gets cigar box.] Now is my time. I either do assert my supremacy in this house, or lose it forever. Ugh! when unfortunate man gazes on the young boughs of matrimony, and thinks how pleasant it must be to sit and whistle among the green foliage, he little thinks, until it is too late, what a quantity of birdlime he is perched on; and when the autumn comes and the leaves turn yellow, there he is still, glued fast and whistling feebly. [Looks at cigar.] Marriage, my friend, is like you in many ways; notably, it gets more bitter as you near the end. Enter EVA. Eva. Mamma is not so well; she wants some brandy. Arthur. How can she expect to be well? She ate enough ices to freeze her into a respectable iceberg, and now she wants brandy to thaw her. Eva. You are rather worse than when I left you. Arthur. What wound doesn't become worse by constant irritation? Eva. Will you put in the brandy? Arthur. By jove, yes! [Eagerly pouring brandy into a tumbler. Eva. Mamma is quite alive to that fact. Indeed, it was only yesterday she remarked how for- Eva. Stop, stop!-what are you thinking of? tunate for you you had not her to deal with. Arthur. Poison! [EVA gives him a severe look, Arthur. But I have her to deal with-that's and exits, c. to R., with brandy.] If she drinks just it. She's becoming a jolly old nuisance. all that, she's booked for a headache all day toEva. Arthur, you are forgetting yourself. morrow, or I'm no judge of brandy. All this Arthur. I don't care-kick I will! Whenever sounds very brutish and ill-tempered. I detest I take stalls at the theatre or opera, she must being thought unkind to Eva; but what caged choose them;-when I want a quiet drive she animal does not get irritated when continually lop-lollops all over the phaeton; at the sea-side poked at with sticks and umbrellas:-although I she stalks about in feeble imitation of you, until don't think she cares half as much for me as she 66 did. I believe her mamma weighs out her daily Mrs. M. Is this a mistake? [Holding up locket.] affection every morning with the kitchen butter. Sixty guineas at least. Is the word Ellen a misShe says I'm jealous-is she? No!-and nothing take-encircled by an emblem of eternal conwould make her. [Goes to vase and takes out a stancy? Is this direction a mistake? Miss Ellen spill.] Why doesn't Eva get a proper spirit-lamp Wallace-is she a mistake? No, no. Long have for one's cigars; it seems to me to be part of a I suspected and watched; now behold the realizawoman's mission on earth to make spills. [Is tion of my doubts! about to light cigar with spill, stops suddenly and Eva. All true-too cruelly true! blows light out.] What's this? Chalker's name? Mrs. M. Come, my love; be yourself-be firm. [Reads.] Yours, my dear Mrs. Keye, most I hear the monster's footfall, so will retire, and sincerely-Chalker." My dear Mrs. Keye-then leave to you the honor of unmasking him. [GoChalker's been writing to my wife unknown to me. ing.] Should he become unmanageable, there is I thought her mother's gush meant something. the bell. [Points to bell.] You carry your weaAny more? [Throws spills on table and searches.] pons here. [Taps her forehead.] Your armor I wonder how long I've been lighting my cigars here. [Points to heart.] Am I not with you? with these precious billets. Perhaps there are Be firm! [Exit R. C. with a grand air. more on the mantel-piece in here's another! [Reads.] "Above all, don't tell your husband, he is so-" Well, on my life, this is too much! There must be more in the library-I'll look; and if so, I'll crush her and her designing mother like a couple of black beetles. the library-stop Enter EVA, hastily. [Exit. Eva. Not here! So much the better. What base, mean treachery! Scarcely has the newness worn off the marriage presents when he is making them to another. What shall I do? Better a thousand thousand times I had remained blind in my ignorance, than to have my eyes thus cruelly opened, only to see that his love is a sham, and truth with him a mere cipher! Away at once with all feelings of duty or honor-down with the frail barrier of affection-and let me alone remember that I have an indignity to avenge, an insult to be atoned for! Mrs. M. That is, ruin your cause. Be calm. Eva. It is easy for you to bid me be calm; you have not loved him as I have. Mrs. M. Scarcely, my dear. I knew what he was from the first! Eva. Oh, cruel, cruel! All his love, all his jealousy, one long falsehood! Mrs. M. My love—my love! Eva. The hoped-for happiness of a lifetime destroyed for a paltry trinket. But I will find her out I will go to her, and offer her a locket of twice the value of this to relinquish him! Mrs. M. My love, what are you thinking of? Do nothing of the kind. Crush this sort of thing at once and forever. Serve him as I served your father under similar circumstances. Eva. Did he, then? Mrs. M. My dear, they all do. Men are all alike, only the bad ones get found out. Do as I did soar high above him in the ethereal and calm consciousness of your rights; then fall upon him with the overwhelming weight of your wrongs, and crush him;-not like the insignificant emmet of the poet, but gradually and painfully, like a slow and relentless cart-wheel! Eva. No, no; may not this be some hideous mistake? Enter ARTHUR. Arthur. [aside.] I cannot find another word. Eva. [aside.] I will be quite firm. He will scarcely dare to mention her voluntarily. Arthur. [aside.] She will scarcely dare to mention him unsolicited. [Aloud.] Ma any better? Eva. Thank you, much. [Aside.] Perhaps it would be as well to go quite away from the subject. Arthur. [aside.] I had better gradually lead up to Chalker. Eva. I'm sorry to be again compelled to renew the subject, but mamma says she doesn't see how we can, with any grace, put off Chalker to-morrow. Arthur. [aside.] Well, I'm- Well, of all the[Checking himself.] Oh, indeed-ah-well-I'm glad of that, as I have changed my mind; I wish to see Chalker. Eva. On business? Arthur. Decidedly not pleasure. Eva. You'll find him a much nicer fellow than you anticipate. Arthur. No doubt, a sort of person one would grow quite fond of. Eva. Oh, quite, when you know him as thoroughly as I do. Arthur. [aside.] Upon my word, this passes all belief to my very face! Eva. Ma says that, in spite of his connection with business, he is very superior. Indeed, she would be much pleased if you would cultivate him. Arthur. No doubt. [Aside.] Hang me if they don't want to keep Chalker in stock, in case anything happens to me! Eva. He is remarkably well connected. His mother was a woman Eva. Scarcely, for he ran through his wife's fortune and influence in a very short time. [Aside.] I cannot keep up this meaningless war of words much longer. Arthur. You have his pedigree quite by heart. Eva. Oh, quite; mamma takes such an interest in him. [Aside.] He is growing fearfully angry. Arthur. Your precious mother takes an interest in everything pernicious to my welfare-[raising his voice]-and out of this house she goes, by George! for of all the old Eva. Spare me these epithets. Mamma has quite determined to leave here; she intends living with Aunt Fluffy. Arthur. Poor Aunt Fluffy!-thank goodness! Eva. [quietly.] And I accompany her. Arthur. Take care, Eva-take care-you are treading on very unsafe ground. If once you leave this house, you never return. Eva. [quietly.] Quite so-I never return. Arthur. Very well-very well; if you prefer your mother to me, by all means let it be so. This, then, is the end of all! Eva. [still quietly.] By no means-this is merely the beginning of the end. Arthur. What do you mean? [Aside.] Can she know I have found out about Chalker? Eva. Thanks to my mother's sagacity, I have been permitted an insight into your very estimable character, and have been enabled to determine the exact value of your love and jealousy. Arthur. All this sounds very heroic, but I should be better pleased with an explanation. Eva. [aside.] I can be calm no longer. [Produces locket.] Do you recognize this? [ARTHUR starts.] I ask, do you recognize this? Arthur. [sighs.] Alas, yes! Eva. You do? Arthur. You do not appear to be aware that 1 hold in my hands sufficient proofs to disgrace you in the eyes of the world. Eva. To say nothing of those in your pocket. Arthur. And pray, how long have I been permitted to light my cigars with those precious billets? Eva. I should say this is the first attempt. Arthur. Don't prevaricate more than is con Arthur. I do. Sixty-five guineas, without the sistent with human nature, I beg-and that? engraving. Eva. You admit it? Arthur. I do. From whence did you obtain it? Eva. Mamma found it in Arthur. [firing up.] Well, of all the-well, upon my-how dare I say, how dare she go-how dare that old woman interfere with my private matters? How dare she go poking her lumpy nose into my desks and drawers? This impudence is unbearable? Eva. Scarcely so flagrant as this. [Shows locket.] Am I right in premising that this was meant for some-woman? Arthur. You are quite right. Arthur. Certainly! [Aside.] Hallo! by George! she's jealous, the little pet-I mean byena. Eva. And I am to accept this as the witness of how you have kept your oaths to me? Arthur. [bows-aside.] Isn't she splendid? Didn't know she had it in her. Hanged if she doesn't remind one of a rocket when it bursts far above us; we cannot believe that so much beauty and brilliancy was contained in such a shell of paper. [Hands second spill. Eva. [calmly.] And this? [Reads.] "Above all, don't tell your husband, he is so- " Well, this simply confirms my remark. Arthur. Is the remainder of this letter in existence? Eva. It is. Arthur. I desire to see it. Arthur. I desire to see it. Eva. [quietly putting the spills in her pocket.] By-and-bye, perhaps. Arthur. So!-it's a challenge;-my letter for yours, eh? Eva. Really, the sagacity you evince is quite startling. Arthur. Now, mark me! I never hoped to be called upon to use that authority the law has given me, but you compel me to go further than a request; and I now demand the immediate production of that letter. Eva. [controlling herself.] In return for yours. Arthur. I warn you:-you are placing yourself in a very false position. Eva. I accept the responsibility. Eva. Firmly. Eva. And you imagine (with that innate conceit so predominant in man) that I shall sit quietly down under this degradation, and whine like a punished school-girl. No! I will prove to you that there is something more in me than passive love and obedience. Look, sir, to your-posed. self. Arthur. Listen to me. Eva. Spare yourself humiliation by paltry excuses. I am in possession of all particulars. Arthur. Oh, you are, are you? Eva. Your indifference implies I am not. Is the name of Miss Ellen Wallace unfamiliar? Arthur. Not at all. Eva. I have simply waited for your presence to open this letter. [Produces letter. Arthur [suddenly.] No-I forbid that-you'll spoil the joke! Eva. Joke!-A joke that will end grimly. Arthur. Still I forbid you to open that letter. Arthur. Very well; as mutual confidence, respect and affection are by you destroyed, I am willing that you accompany your mother, as pro Eva. With all my heart! Arthur. By all means; with all your heart. Eva. [aside.] Two more words, and I should have burst out crying, and spoilt all. [Goes to piano-sits. Arthur. [L., aside.] She has seriously doubted me, possessing no proofs:-have I not cause to doubt her, possessing proofs? [Sits in arm-chair at fireplace—a pause. Eva. [aside.] If he would only go to bed, and leave me. Arthur. [aside.] She may go to bed when she pleases. I remain here. [Aloud.] Do you intend retiring to-night? |