boa-constrictor! your victim is on the alert this time! [Exit at back, C., in great agitation. Lydia. [who has meanwhile been conversing with TRAP. Aside, surprised.] My husband, you say, is threatened with a lawsuit? Trap. Yes, serious affair! Infringement of patent. He hasn't a leg to stand upon; and yet I can't get him to attend to the matter. Lydia. [resolutely.] Then I will attend to it for him. Trap. The best plan would be to compromise: offer Coriander fifty pounds down. He's in the village now on business. Lydia. [eagerly.] Fifty pounds! I have the money, but I cannot draw it out without my husband's signature; however, I'll contrive to obtain it without letting him know my object. Re-enter TWITTERS at back. Twit. [aside, vexed.] Can't find that precious Tim anywhere. [Perceiving TRAP and LYDIA, who are conversing earnestly. Aside.] There they are, at it still! There's a plot on foot, that's clear! Lydia. [to TRAP, not perceiving TWITTERS.] Leave it to me; I'll undertake to obtain my husband's signature. Twit. [listening intently.] Her husband's signa ture! Lydia. [continuing.] The rest we'll settle after dinner. Twit. [aside, alarmed.] Yes, it will be all settled after dinner! I must put a stop to this. [Retreating a few paces, and coughing as though he had just entered.] Ahem! ahem! Lydia. [to TRAP.] My husband! not a word! [To TWITTERS, approaching him affectionately.] My love, you must be hungry; but dinner will soon be ready. You'll say that mushroom ketchup was an excellent notion of mine. Twit. [shuddering. Aside.] It strikes me she's "ketchupped" the lot! [Resolutely.] I won't touch a morsel! Lydia. [looking at him affectionately.] My love, some trifling matter has evidently ruffled your usual cheerful serenity. Twit. [aside.] Triding matter! she calls four ketchupped husbands a trifling matter! Lydia. [continuing, cheerfully.] But dinner will soon put an end to all your troubles. Twit. [shuddering. Aside.] Put an end to all my troubles I-I cannot stand this any longer! I'll be off! [Just as he is going towards door, C., LYDIA puts her arm through his. Lydia. Don't leave me again, love; sec, they are bringing in dinner. Twit. [aside, trembling.] She has got me fast! [Looking at her.] So fair, and yet so diabolical! Enter CICELY, R., followed by PEGGY and TIM, bringing in dinner on a ready laid table. Cicely. [gaily.] The dinner's quite ready. I've been superintending the preparations. Twit. [aside, starts.] Aha! the little 'un's in the plot! Peggy. [irritably moving table to c.] Now, then, Tim, don't go shovin' the table agin' me! Tim. [irritably.] Well, I can't help it! I never see sich a temper as she is in this morning! [They put down table, c. Lydia. Now, Mr. Trap, take your seat next to Cicely. Trap. With all possible pleasure. Twit. [aside.] Aha! there's Tim! [Aside to TIM, spasmodically.] Stand close behind my chairdon't move on any pretext! Tim. [aside, surprised.] What's up, I wonder? Peggy. [sulkily.] Please, mum, I've sharpened the carving knife. Twit. [aside, starting violently.] Sharpened the carving knife? Lydia. [who has meanwhile been helping the others.] My love, let me give you a little of this boiled fowl. Twit. [endeavoring to conceal his trepidation, and holding out plate.] Thank you-a-a-a very little; I-I'm not very hungry. [Aside.] I'm starving! [To TIM, in a hoarse whisper, handing plate over his shoulder.] Take it away! Tim. [taking plate. Aside.] Well I never! master ain't a eatin' o' nothin'. Howsumever, it shan't be wasted-I'll eat it. [Retires to sideboard, R., and greedily devours contents of plate. Speaking with his mouth full.] Crikey! what lots o' pepper! Twit. [taps nervously on empty plate with knife and fork, he then seizes pepper-box, and in a state of violent excitement "peppers" right and left of plate, takes up mustard-pot, and stirs it violently round and round, etc., etc. Aside.] It's astonishing how thirsty I am! I wonder if the ale is all right. [Pours out a glass of ale.] But no! [Stops short as he is about to raise it to his lips.] Nobody else has had any yet-a-a-I'll see whether my wife will drink it. [Aloud, with a violent attempt at politeness.] My love, may I offer you a-ag-g-glass of b-b-bitter? Lydia. [calmly.] You know, my love, I never drink beer. She Twit. [aside, bitterly.] Of course not. knows what's in it! [Aside to TIM, who, having polished off contents of plate, has resumed his place behind TWITTERS, in a hoarse whisper, handing glass to him.] Take it away. Tim. [taking glass. Aside, surprised.] Well, I never! a glass o' yale! Master be mortal kind. [Tosses off glass of ale. Lydia. [to TWITTERS.] You don't seem to be getting on. Twit. [takes a large mouthful of "nothing" out of empty plate.] I'm getting on famously! [Cramming the end of table napkin into his mouth. Inarticulately.] It's very nice, indeed! Lydia. Some more mushroom ketchup? Twit. [starting mysteriously.] No, no! [Endeavors to withdraw plate.] Here's a pretty dose she has given me. She evidently wishes to settle me right off! [To TIM, handing him plate as before over shoulder, in a hoarse whisper.] Take it away! Tim. [taking plate.] Another dollop! Here's a greedily devours contents of plate. precious stroke o' luck. [Returns to sideboard, and Twit. [looking at LYDIA. A side.] The sphinx is watching me! [Aloud.] I'm getting on splendidly! [Aside.] She thinks I've swallowed that awful concoction; she's watching the effect. [Aloud, losing his self-command, and jumping up from table, tragically.] It's abominable! All. [jumping up.] What's abominable? Twit. [recollecting himself, confused.] Nothing -nothing! [Aside.] I must still dissemble. [Aloud.] A-a-little piece of gristle went the wrong way! [TIM and PEGGY clear table. Lydia. [to TRAP.] I fancy my husband is not very well. Trap. [to LYDIA.] He certainly is in a very singular mood to-day. Lydia. We'll leave him alone for a moment or two. Mr. Trap, do you and Cicely take a turn in the garden. Tray. [gallantly offering his arm to CICELY.] Glad of the chance--delighted at the opportunity. Cicely. [aside.] Well, Lydia has married a strange sort of person. [Exit TRAP and CICELY, R. U. E. Twit. [aside, alarmed.] What's going on now, I wonder? [Aside to TIM, in a hoarse whisper.] Don't stir! Tim. [with his mouth full.] All right; I won't stir a hinch. Lydia. [aside.] Now will be my time to get his signature to that little document. Stay! I have left it in my room. [To TWITTERS.] I shall not be a moment, love. [Exit L. Twit. [alarmed, looking round.] Something awful is preparing-I know there is; and I am starving with hunger. [Seizing TIM by the arm.] Tim, get me something to eat something wholesome, d'ye hear? Tim. [surprised.] Why, warn't it all whole some? Twit. [tragically.] Wholesome! I've reason to believe [looking wildly all around] it was the very reverse of wholesome! Tim. [alarmed.] But I've put away the lot! Twit. [horrified.] You've put away the lot? Oh, this is horrible! Ill-fated Bolus! [Anxiously.] A-a-do you feel a kind of sort of [rubbing his chest suggestively, his teeth chattering the while]-num-num-num? Tim. [aghast, imitating his master.] Yes, I feels a sort o' kind o' num-num-num! Twit. [with increasing earnestness.] A peculiar, indescribable burning sensation-a sort of internal conflagration? Tim. [horribly alarmed.] Ees, I feels a hinfernal conflaggaration! [Blubbering.] I thought it was the pepper! Twit. [with a tragic burst.] Pepper! it's POI SON! Tim. Poison! [Falling on his knees, and bursting forth into stentorian lamentations.] Oh, lor, oh, lor! pisoned in the werry middle of Love's young dream! [Jumping up and rushing to and fro.] Just as I was a-going to unbuzzum myself to my beloved Peggy. But who ha' been and done it? swallow an ounce of the contents quick, it's an antidote ! Tim. [rushing wildly about stage.] A nannygoat! Ees, I'll take a nanny-goat-pisoned, oh, lor, oh, lor! [Rushes frantically off, c. Twit. [alone, folding his arms gloomily.] There's nothing in the Newgate Calendar to come up to this! [With increasing terror.] But I'll not stop here to be murdered! I'll hide myself under the bed, or in the coal-hole! [Looking off] Aha! she comes. [In an agony of apprehension.] Too late! Enter LYDIA, L. Lydia. [coaxingly.] Now, my love, I-I want you to do me a very particular favor. [Attempting to take his hand. Twit. [hastily recoiling.] Don't touch-a-aI'm ticklish! Lydia. [continuing.] I wish you, love, to affix your signature to this little paper. Twit. That little paper! Lydia. [continuing.] You must have sufficient confidence in me to sign it without looking at its contents. Twit. [aside.] Some horrible trap! [Struck by a sudden idea.] They've forged a will, and want my signature previous [shuddering] to making away with me! [Wipes his face with handkerchief. Lydia. Come, now, to oblige your little wifey. Twit. [aside. My little wifey-perfidious crocodile! Lydia. Come now! [Putting her arm through his, and drawing him to table.] Here are pen and ink; you will surely not refuse my first request. Twit. aside, alarmed.] The rattlesnake has got me tight by the arm. She's muscular, very muscular. I'll call Tim! Ah, I forgot, he was poisoned! [Struck by a sudden idea.] Stay! I'll feign indisposition! [Making for sofa. Aloud.] A-a strange giddiness-a sudden faintness [withdrawing his arm, and falling on sofa] has taken possession of me! [Snores. Aside.] She'll think it's the mushroom ketchup! [Snores again. Lydia. [aside, surprised.] What can be the matter with my dear husband to-day? Perhaps a short nap will do him good. I'm sure he will comply with my request when he awakes! [Looking round.] Ah, I'll cover him over with the railway rug. [Fetches rug from chair, L. The moment her back is turned, TWITTERS bobs up and watches her movements with looks expressive of the most intense anxiety; the instant she turns round from Twit. [with melodramatic intensity.] Ha! hush! chair TWITTERS hastily resumes his sleeping atti[Looking mysteriously all round, and point-tude, and snores violently. N.B.-This is repeated ing three times over his shoulder in the direction in every time LYDIA turns away from sofa. which LYDIA went out.] "Twas she! Tim. [mechanically pointing over his shoulder in imitation of his master, ruefully.] Who be she? Twit. [in a hoarse whisper.] Mrs. Taraxicum! Tim. [astounded.] What, the new missus? Twit. Yes! [Tragically.] The wife of five hus bands! Tim. [aghast.] Five husbands! [Trembling.] Where be the other four? [TWITTERS points tragically downwards, in mute but expressive pan tomime Tim. [after pointing mechanically downwards in imitation of his master, horror-stricken.] Then I'm a murdered wictim! Twit. [hastily.] But quick! rush into the shop -take down corner jar-right hand top shelf, and Twit. [on sofa, and shivering violently.] She's going to smother me! [LYDIA now approaches him with rug, with which she proceeds to cover him carefully, during which process TWITTERS continues to snore and groan alternately. Lydia. [walking away from sofa. Aside.] I wonder what can be the matter with him? [Suddenly catching sight of blunderbuss, which is suspended by strings to nails on the wall.] Aha! that blunderbuss! [TWITTERS gives a violent start.] I'll cut it down at once. [Takes carving knife from table. TWITTERS, who is now sitting up on sofa watching her, gives something between a terrified groan and a snore, and falls back on sofa. Lydia. [more and more astonished. Aside.] Again! [Steps back to sofa on tip-toe with carving knife in her hand, leans over her husband and listens, as though to assure herself that he is asleep. Aside.] He sleeps! [Re-crosses stage on tip-toe to C., gets up on chair, and proceeds to cut strings by which blunderbuss is suspended. Twit. [who has meanwhile re-opened his eyes, and is anxiously watching LYDIA. Aside.] What's she up to now? [Horror-stricken.] She's getting down the blunderbuss! she's going to blow my brains out! [Jumps off sofa. Aloud, in a paroxysm of terror.] Here! I'll sign! I'll sign anything! anything! Tim. [blubbering.] But I have! Twit. [with terrific excitement.] Keep off; you wish to serve me as you did your other four husbands. Lydia. [astounded.] My other four husbands? Twit. [bitterly.] Yes; Brown, Green, White, and Black, and every other color, for all I know. Lydia. [aside, surprised.] I see it all. He has heard of the aliases adopted at various times by my late husband. [Aloud.] My dear Taraxicum, know that the four names you have mentioned represent but one single individual! Lydia. [who has meanwhile got off chair with Twit. [surprised.] One single individual! blunderbuss.] Why, my dear, what is the matter? Lydia. Yes. A long and harassing struggle Twit. [in terrific excitement.] Nothing! [Tak- with debt and difficulties compelled my late husing up pen.] Give me the paper! [Takes paper band, at various times, to assume the fictitious apfrom her. Aside.] Folded down that I may not pelations just mentioned by you. [Opening pocketsee the contents! [Signing.] You see-a-a-I'm signing with pleasure; with positive alacrity. [Aside.] Goodness gracious, how I should like to give my wife in charge! Lydia. [taking paper from him, joyfully.] Thank you, my love. Now, then, to forward the draft to my husband's antagonist, and so avert the contemplated lawsuit. [Exit, with blunderbuss. Twit. [surprised.] She's gone! she has taken the blunderbuss with her! She's going to do for somebody! Re-enter TIM, with a large jar under his arm, his Tim. [alarmed.] You told I corner jar, left hand, top shelf. Twit. [impetuously.] Right hand, top shelf, I said. [Popping his hand into jar, and pulling out handful of contents.] Why, this is camphorated chalk! Tim. [horror-stricken.] Then I'm pisoned all over again! [Report of fire-arms heard outside. Twit. [aghast.] Aha! she has shot somebody! [Falls on his knees, R. of door, at back. Tim. [simultaneously with TWITTERS.] Murder! [Falls on his knees, L. of door, at back, C. Enter LYDIA, CICELY and TRAP, R. U. E.; the latter has blunderbuss under his arm. Lydig. } gaily, together. { Victory! victory! Cicely. Trap. I've fired a salute in honor of the occa sion. Lydia. [L., looking all round.] But where's my husband? Trap. [R., looking all round.] Why, what can book, and producing letters.] Here are four letters in my late husband's handwriting, signed respectively in each of the names you have mentioned ! Twit. [who has meanwhile taken four letters and compared them.] Black, White, Green, Brown! and all in the same handwriting! But that mushroom ketchup? Enter PEGGY, R. Peggy. Ketchup was all right, sir; only I happened to let the top fall off the pepper-castor. Tim. [with a burst of satisfaction.] Which ac- astonished. Poisoned! Twit. [rather confused.] No, nothing-a-he doesn't know what he's talking about. [Aside, drawing a long breath.] She hasn't ketchupped anybody after all. [Aloud.] But I say that mysterious paper I just now signed? Lydia. Has enabled me to assign to Mr. Coriander the sum of fifty pounds, in consideration of which he has waived proceedings against you. Twit. [delighted.] Fifty pounds to save me from a lawsuit, and her own money too! and this is the woman I expected was going to poison me [Impetuously.] I'll never be suspicious again! Tim. [joyously tucking PEGGY's arm under his.] Never no more! never no more! Twit. And let me recommend you, [addressing the rest] if ever you have anything on your mind, not to go brooding and fretting over it as I did, but to "out" with it at once, and come to a clear understanding; and if any one requires a hint on the subject, [to audience] you know my shop, ladies and gentlemen; always happy to accommodate you from "Triumphant Tincture" down to "advice gratis." [Rubbing his hands in the shopkeeper fashion.] Parr's Life Pills, pitch plasters, prescriptions carefully prepared! Promise me your custom, and let me hope that, as regards Twit. [sitting upon the ground.] Fiend! sorcer-your patronage, it really will be "MY TURN ess! avaunt-keep off! Know that I never tasted NEXT." your mushroom ketchup. have become of him? Cicely. [L., suddenly perceiving TWITTERS.] Why, there he is! Lydia. [astounded.] Why, my dear husband, what are you doing there? COSTUMES. THE END. TWITTERS.-Old-fashioned blue-tail coat with bright buttons; | LYDIA.-First dress: Smart traveling costume; blue jacket; hat tremendous white "choker" with ample ends; large nosegay stuck in button-hole of coat; grayish trowsers; extensive shawl. pattern waistcoat. TOM TRAP.-Smart commercial traveler's make-up. TIM BOLUS.-Apprentice's make-up-black apron, etc., etc.; whiskers; great coat; gaiters; broad-brimmed hat, etc. with feather, etc., etc. Second dress: Becoming morning cos tume; silk dress, etc. CICELY.-Same as Lydia. PEGGY.-Ordinary servant's dress; brown stuff gown; cap; apron, etc. 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. 11. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by WHEAT & CORNETT, in the Office VOL. 1. Than simple sociability required; MARRY IN HASTE Had, by some strange perversity of fate, Dick. Extremely. [They sit down. Tom. And how goes the world with you? To vex the even tenor of my life; Tom. Yes; behold the man, Who, erst the jolliest of jolly dogs, Has sown his last wild crop, and settled down Dick. I own I was astonished when I heard That you, who ever forcibly professed The sternest anti-matrimonial creed, When one, who shall be nameless, holds the reins; Large sums to furnish at no distant day; My washing-book had not been paid for weeks, Dick. Have you an onion handy? I would fain Tom. I turned me round In search of some legitimate relief. It ever was a principle of mine Not to expose my gentlemanly brain To any danger from excessive work; Gambling was useless-for I never won; Borrowing vain-for nobody would lend. Begging absurd-for not a soul would give; Theft hopeless-for I never learnt the trade. I paused-more dreary still the prospect seemed; When, lo! descending like an avalanche, A golden opportunity appeared! A widow lady of abundant means In Essex lived; to know it was to act I ordered breakfast, donned my Sunday suit, Hurrah! Hair glossy and abundant; eyes like stars, Enter MRS. BLACK. Tom. [introducing them.] My wife-my friend. Dick. [aside.] Oh! goodness gracious! she is very plain! Methought Dame Nature formed a lovely thing, Tom. Now that you know each other, fraternize. May close acquaintance with each other's minds Encourage intercourse, and make you friends; You'll stay, of course, and take pot-luck with us? Mrs. B. Now, Tom, you know there's nothing in the house; And if your friend had only sent us word Dick. Now, no excuse, I beg; I have important business to transact; So fare thee well! good-bye. Tom. Good-bye. Mrs. B. Good-bye. That something more than common there must be Tom. Gray shirtings-dull. Mrs. B. Nay, what have shirtings got to do with you, Or you with shirtings, be they dull or droll, Mauve, neutral tint, pea-green, or russet-brown. Tom. Mrs. B. Oh! "Arrivals yesterday, at Gray's Hotel: Mrs. B. Oh, Thomas, how provoking you become! Wherefore so uncommunicative? Say, What circumstance untoward grieves your mind, As well as of your joys? your comforter? Tom. [laying down the paper.] Jane, leave the room. Jane. I will, sir. [Aside.] Heard I not the area bell Secretly tingle half an hour agone, Compel obedience to his sovereign will. Mrs. B. [sneeringly.] Stupendous words! A nutshell in a gale! Why, Tom, I cannot fathom your intent- Tom. You know full well, ma'am, what it is I mean; And this prevarication only serves To make your conduct doubly culpable. Mrs. B. A good thing, too. Tom. I say 'twas not. It was disgraceful quite. Good gracious! shall I sit and tamely see 1 ། |