with attempted nonchalance.] He, he! A truce, pray, to this deceit. Mabel. Did you say deceit, sir? Fred. [loudly.] I said deceit, madame. Listen, madame, and tremble. [She breaks out laughing.] I—1, madame—was a witness of-of all that passed when you parted just now from that-that scoundrel. Mabel. So, sir, you did us the honor of watching us through the key-hole? Of spying upon us? Fred. hastily.] The only way to find a woman out since the world began. I'll be bound Adam himself was given to eavesdropping; nevertheless, as it happens, you are wrong. I came into the room as usual, through the door; but you were too much wrapped up in one another to notice me; and there I found this villain-this low, undermining villain-pressing his caresses upon you, under your very nose-I mean my very nose. [Walks stage. Mabel. And pray what did you see? Fred. I saw him kiss you. Yes, kiss you, madame! Mabel. Lor! Was that all? Fred. No, madame, it was not, for I saw you kiss him in return. Mabel. Well, my dear, you see, knowing how strongly you object to my receiving presents from strangers, I thought it better to give them all back. Ha, ha! Besides, I only obeyed your orders to the letter. Fred. Pshaw! You mistook the directions! how could I imagine he would try and jump down your throat in that indelicate manner? Mabel. I like him, he is so handsome. Fred. "Handsome is that handsome does." Mabel. But I like what he does, too, Fred. Oh! he is lovely. His nose is perfect. Fred. Oh, blow-his nose! Mabel. And then his beautiful, long, silky hair. [Clasping her hands enthusiastically.] And his eyes. Fred. [savagely.] I declare, Mabel, [walking up and down] you would provoke a saint. Mabel. If ever you are canonized, it will be as St. Vitus the Second. Ha, ha, ha! Fred. I want a little seriousMabel. [interrupting him.] No more sermons, sir, if you please. Fred. Surely, you do not object to exchange ideas Mabel. [interrupting.] But I do, most decidedly. You would have too much the best of the bargain. Fred. [forcing himself to be calm.] Mabel, I have been turning over this question Mabel. Then, perhaps, you can now look on the other side of it. Fred. [not heeding her.] And I see you were right. Fred. That I cannot bear that any one should approach you with their attentions, however innocently. Mabel. [aside.] Poor boy!--but he must learn his lesson first, and have his sugar-plum afterwards. Fred. Too late! [Starring back. Mabel. Too late. I am a tiger who has tasted human blood. Why did you not leave me in my ignorance of men, happy and contented with my fowls, and my pigeons, and my ducks? Now I am a man-eater, and I feel I shall prey upon the sex for the rest of my life. Fred. Mabel, how can you torture me? how can you trifle with me so cruelly? You know how I love you. Mabel. [lifting up her hands in horror.] Ah! Never let me hear you utter that Jenny and Jessamy word again! Love! I assure you it's shocking bad ton. Ha, ha, ha! Fred. [angrily.] Since you meet me with nothing but taunts and sneers, madame, I will plead no longer! I will now command-command! do you hear, madame? Mabel. You command me? Better learn to command yourself first. Ha, ha! Fred. You are a woman, and to you I can say no more, but this presuming puppy-I will have a terrible reckoning; and by the same token, here he comes. Fortune, I thank thee. Now, madame, I must trouble you to retire. Mabel. Too much trouble, I assure you. [Aside.] They will quarrel; I know they will. Fred. [hastily glancing at window.] Have the goodness to leave my room. [Attempting to take her hand. Mabel. [drawing back her hand.] Shan't! Fred. [with forced politeness.] Permit me to escort you. Mabel. Thank you; prefer your room to your company. Fred. Oh, very well, madame, very well. If you have any fancy to see the-ha, ha!-gentleman kicked out. Mabel. [aside.] Kicked. Oh, heavens! [Aloud.] Don't condemn him unheard, at all events. You're not on the Bench now, you know. Fred. I say he shall go-pack-be off out of my house this very moment, as sure as my name is Whymper. [Walking furiously up and down. Mabel. And I say it's my house, not yours; and he shall stop in it as long as he likes; so there! [WHYMPER gazes at her speechlessly a moment, then rushes from the room.] Oh, no; I didn't mean that. How unkind; how ungenerous of me! I am a bad, wicked girl, that's what I am. [CAPTAIN CAMERON enters at back.] Ha! is all safe? Then you must not lose a moment. [Running to escritoire and opening drawers.] Here is all the money, every penny I have-nineteen pounds; and here are my jewels. Quick-take them. I have chosen all the smallest and best-that is, all he won't miss, and now, my own boy, my darling, good-bye once more. [Kisses him.] Be prudent and cautious, and write to me whenever you can safely do so. Not here. Direct X. Y. Z., at the post office, or my husband may find us out, and he's so horribly jealous. Ha, ha, ha! [During the above FRED appears at the window and peers in. Capt. [putting money, etc., into his pocket.] Jealous! And of me! Ha, ha, ha! But you don't seem much annoyed either. Mabel. Annoyed! Silly boy; a wife is never anFred. I therefore, dearest Mabel, desire you-I noyed at finding her husband jealous, no matter mean I beg, I entreat of you to send away this how he rages and storms-it shows he's still on the swaggering young coxcomb and to promise me— hook; but when he sulks at the bottom, wholly Mabel. [interrupting.] It is too late. indifferent to the missiles you hurl at his head, however sharp and pointed, then look out, or you'll lose him in a jiffy. Capt. Why, Queen Mab, you are a pocket edition of the "Complete Angler,” I declare. Mabel. We are forced to be, dear. It's part of our accomplishments. A woman spends one-half of her life in fishing for a husband, and the other half in wishing she hadn't caught him; but I stand here chattering when Farewell, farewell. [She kisses him again, and hurries off at door L. CAPTAIN CAMERON goes hastily towards garden door. Just as he reaches it, it opens, and FRED appears standing in the doorway. CAPTAIN CAMERON starts back. Capt. [aside.] My old luck. [Aloud.] Ah! back again? Glad to see you. [Attempts to pass FRED. Fred. [tragically.] Liar! Capt. Eh [Aside.] Thought so. [Aloud.] Well, ta ta! I'm just going. [Tries to pass him. Fred. [yet more tragically.] Liar! Capt. What d'ye mean? [Aside.] Beggar wants to quarrel. Fred. I mean what I say-liar! You are not glad to see me, and you are not just going. Capt. Well, certainly, I can't very well while you keep that door shut, unless I go out head first. Fred. You are much more likely to go out feet first, I can tell you. Villain; cold-blooded, false, double-dyed villain, you are discovered. Capt. [coolly.] This is as good as a play. Fred. But don't think to escape me. I tell you, dog, you shall pay dearly for this. [Runs round to door and locks it. Capt. He's drunk. Fred. Do you think I can't see as well as other people? Capt. On the contrary, I think you can see twice as well. Ha, ha! Fred. Let them laugh that win. You will not take back this pretty story of the poor, deluded idiot of a husband, and the pretty, frail and too complaisant wife to your barrack companions. You will not rehearse this little domestic drama of Chalkshire life over your mess-room table, I promise you; and shall I tell you why? Capt. Pray do. Fred. [deliberately.] Because I mean to kill you. [Furiously.] Scoundrel, black-hearted scoundrel, do you think I didn't see you and that shameless woman exchanging your fiendish caresses and blandishments, here under my very roof? Capt. [aside.] I'm in for a row, begad. Shall I make a clean breast of it? [Aloud.] Caresses! blandishments! Ha, ha! Excuse my laughing; but, my dear fellow-your wife-nonsense that was-ha, ha!-mind, mum's the word—the little governess. Fred. Little governess! Capt. A what? [Aside.] Is that Chalkshire for a policeman, I wonder? Fred. A retribution, terrible as it is just. [Produces case.] These pistols are both loaded; take which you will and we will fire across this table. Capt. Well, but-hang it! Fred. Not a word! Take one. Quick, quick! Capt. And pray what has become of your unconquerable aversion to a duel? Fred. This is no duel, it is an execution! What, do you hesitate? False, treacherous, I knew you to be, but I had yet to learn you were a coward. Capt. [annoyed.] Be it so, then. [Takes a pistol without rising. Aside.] I wish he were any one else's husband; dam'me, I'd shoot him like a bird, and make up the brace! Fred. Now, sir, are you ready? In deference to your "honorable" profession, I depute to you the word of command. What! you won't? Then I will. I shall count three. Mark you-one, two, three, and at the word three we fire. [Furiously, to CAPTAIN, who still lounges in his chair.] Stand up and face me like a man, or, by the lord, I'll shoot you like a dog. [CAPTAIN, C., tosses his pistol on the table, unobserved by FRED, and rises, calmly facing him. Hoarsely, with suppressed rage.] "One." [MABEL'S face appears at the garden window, peering in.] "Two." [MABEL tries to open door, and finding it locked dashes her hand through the glass and draws back the bolt. She rushes down between them.] Mabel! [MABEL goes up to CAPTAIN CAMERON, and addresses him angrily aside.] It is for him she fears. It is his life she would save, even with her own. I wish I were dead. [He sinks into a chair, and hides his face in his hands. Mabel. [aside to CAPTAIN.] And did you dare to lift your hand against my husband? Capt. Not a bit of it. Look, there lies the pistol. Mabel. Then-then you were going to stand and be shot at unarmed, like a— -Cameron? Capt. Lord bless you, it's a crown to a cabbage he missed me. He couldn't hit a hay-stack. Look, he is all of a shake. Mabel. So he is, my poor darling; this has gone too far. Not another moment, pushing CAPTAIN CAMERON towards door] or you will ruin us both. [Just as they reach door, a loud knocking is heard at it. They stand motionless. Mabel. What's that? Capt. Too late, too late! I am lost! Mabel. Not so, darling, there is yet a chance. Through the garden, quick, quick!'[She hurries him to garden door, and is about to throw it open, when GROPER appears outside, calmly chewing a straw. MABEL pulls CAPTAIN CAMERON back with a scream of despair. Capt. Trapped, by all that's damnable! [Knocking is still continued at room door.] Mabel, listen to me. There is only one way out of this; it will put him [indicating FRED] to half an hour's inconvenience, but it will save my life. Mabel. [confused.] I don't--I don't understand. Capt. Watch me closely and follow my lead. [He unlocks and opens door. Enter MOLEYE; he glances round the room. Now, sir, what do you want? Moleye. I want to come in, if it's entirely the same to you, gove'nor. Sorry to intrude upon a family party in this 'ere way, especially when it's so werry private as to nercessitate the door abeing locked. Mabel. The door! Oh! we can't bear the draught. [Aside.] Oh, Douglas, Douglas! Moleye. Ah, some people can't. For my part, a good draught's a thing as never comes amiss. [Rubs his lips with his coat cuff. Groper. 'Orse-back, fast as it could galop. Mabel. Not dead! Thank heaven! Moleye. Then it seems as you and me, Bill, Capt. And what is your business here, pray? has gone and been made jackasses of. Hope Moleye. Well, yer see, my name's Moleye-they'll send some one else next time they've such Mister Moleye, Scotland Yard. And I've a war- a jolly fool's errand. Ugh! rant here for the arrest of [reading from warrant] one Captain Douglas— Capt. [twitching warrant out of his hands.] Let me look. Yes, all appears to be regular and in due form, and I, as a magistrate of the county, would be the last to throw any impediment in the way of justice. Do your duty, officer. Fred. And you've made me get into this temper for nothing? Mabel. [courteously.] I'm sure, Mr.— Ahem! No one could be better fitted Capt. Exactly. Here, my man, get something to drink; [gives money] and, hark'ee, not a word of this in the village. Eh? Moleye. Thank'ee, gove'nor. Not a syllable, Moleye. [looking from FRED to CAPTAIN CAMERON.] Begyer pardon, gove'nor, but your name is bless yer. Come along, Bill. Good day, gents. Capt. [in a careless manner.] Whymper; Frederick Whymper. Fred. [who has raised his head at the last few words, for the first time.] What! Scoundrel! [Vehemently.] I tell you, officer, this this fiend in human shape has robbed me of all I hold dear in life, and now seeks to rob me of my good name. I-I am Frederick Whymper, a justice of the peace for Chalkshire, as I will prove to you in one moment by the testimony of my own servants. [Advances towards bell. Moleye. [stopping him.] No you don't. Me and my mate's alone on this 'ere job, and this is a frightful lonely spot. No; I'll tell you a trick worth two of that, young gentleman. It's a wise child as knows its own father, they say, (I never had no father myself, to speak on) but any fool 'ud know her own husband any day in the week. So now, mum, just speak up, will you, and tell us which of these two gents it is as you belongs to. [MABEL stands a moment breathless; but at a glance from CAPTAIN CAMERON, she advances, and takes his arm. Mabel. This is my husband. [CAPTAIN CAMERON supports her and turns so that MOLEYE cannot see her face. Aside.] Oh, Fred, Fred! Capt. [aside.] My own brave Mab, you saved me. Moleye. [to FRED.] You hear, my lad. little game is up. have Your lie-a Fred. Stand back. I tell you it's a shameful lie. I tell you, officersMoleye. You take my ådvice and don't tell me nothing at all, for it's my duty to inform you as anything you say will be took down and used agin you at your trial. Now, look'ee here-what you have got to do is to go quietly along with me; that's what you've got to do. [Advancing towards FRED. Fred. [furiously.] Stand back, I say. Lay a finger on me at your peril. Mabel. [aside to CAPTAIN CAMERON.] Mercy, mercy! I cannot bear it. Capt. [to her.] One moment more; only one moment. [At this moment the garden door opens, and GROPER puts in his head. Moleye. Just as I was a wanting yer. What have you got there? Hallo! Groper. The Yard-for you. [Hands telegram. Capt. [pushing them off] Good day, officer, good day. Moleye. [dodging round him.] Good day, mum. Capt. There, there! that will do. Don't you see the lady's indisposed? Be off with you, both. [Pushing them off at room door. Mabel. [rushing to FRED the moment the door is closed on them, and throwing herself at his feet.] Fred! Fred! now I can tell you all. Fred. [waving her back.] Shameless woman, touch me not. Mabel. Fred, dearest husband, don't you see? don't you know? This is Douglas! Douglas Cameron. My brother! my own dear, unhappy brother, flying for his very life from the bloodhounds of the law. Capt. Yes, old boy, her brother-your brother. What do you say to that? Fred. [in a maze-laughing stupidly.] Well, that's all right. I [Angrily.] Why did you not tell me? What the deuce did you mean by sneaking into the house like that? Capt. I meant to tell you; but I found you so violently opposed to dueling-in theory. In practice you're a regular fire-eater, by Jove! won't be denied, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Fred. Ah, it's all very fine! You soldiers think a man can't be worth his salt unless he's paid for it; but touch our hearths and homes, and you'll find we volunteers will fight like the devil. Well, at all events, I'm delighted to see you safe and sound. How are you? [Shakes hands with effusion.] That's all right. Won't you take something to drink now? Capt. No, thanks. me, then? You are sure you don't hate Fred. Hate you? Not a bit of it! I was like a boy who has been locked up in a jam-closet. I had had a surfeit of sweets. You have taught me a lesson, young fellow. [Taking MABEL's hand.] We never know the value of a thing till we have lost it. Mabel. Or fancy we have, dear. Fred. And I sincerely believe I shall never forget it as long as I live. Capt. And I sincerely believe I shan't either. Mabel. And I sincerely believe that all will go as "merry as a marriage bell," now that his eyes are opened to the fact that all are friends here, and that he himself alone is "HIS OWN ENEMY." 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. VOL. 2. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by WHEAT & CORNETT, in the Office THE TWO ORPHANS: A Drama, in Six Acts. BY JOHN OXENFORD, ESQ. CAST OF ᏟᎻᎪᎡᎪᏟᎢᎬᎡᏚ. Royal Olympic, London, 1874. Union Square, N. Y., 1876. Frank Roland. J. G. Peakes. Count de Linieres..Mr. Chas. Harcourt. Mr. John Parselle. Vollaire. Chas. Sugden. Jacques.. "William Rignold. Pierre... Henry Neville. Chas. R. Thorne, Jr. Frederic Robinson. James O'Neill. Thomas E. Morrit. Claude Burroughs. L. Thompson. John Matthews. NO.20. Enter the MARQUIS, L. U. E. La F. Heaven send him to you, kind sir. [Exit. Laf. Pardon me, monsieur, if I say that my abilities are altogether without limit, are unbounded. As to that worthy man you told me H. W. Montgomery. ought to be waiting for the young travelers at this corner, I have not seen anything that answers to his description. But I am watching closely, and if he slips through my fingers he must be a devilish clever fellow! Herbert Ayling. Miss Fanny Morant. Kate Claxton. Sara Jewett. Ida Vernon. Ethel Allen. Roberta Norwood. Julie.. EXITS AND ENTRANCES.-R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. RELATIVE POSITIONS.-R. means Right; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right Centre; L. C. Left Centre, &c. The reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the audience. ACT I. TABLEAU I.-The foot of the Pont-Neuf by the river Seine. To the R. an Arch; at this point. the Normandy Coach Office; R. 2 E. a cabaret, with table before it, shaded by trees at the back; stalls occupied by various dealers. On the L. Mar. Aye; one went too fast, the other came a double house with two doors, one an 66 Office," "too slow! the other a "Restaurant." In the distance a D'Est. Unfortunate! But why do we find you view of Paris on the right bank of the Seine, just at this spot? strongly illumined by the setting sun. People and because the coach-I have every reason to Mar. Because the Evreux coach stops here, of various classes discovered. which is buried in a forest, bears the closest possible resemblance to a prison; and what with the dullness of the place and a game of whist, every evening, with the curé, the bailiff and a dummy, I thought I should have been bored to death. Still, I waited with laudable patience, to see how my dear aunt's illness would end. At last the end did come; and after having lingered on from day to day, the good old lady recovered completely, and is now better than ever she was in her life. Both. Oh! Mar. Let us be just. I have no fault to find. My poor aunt did all she could to terminate her existence. When others would have employed one physician, she sent for three! Ah, she did her best! Du M. Certainly! D'Est. And your aunt having recovered perfect consciousness Mar. I took post horses, and started off without a minute's delay. Du M. So far, so good. But about the Normandy beauty? Mar. Well, as I was just close to Rambouillet, the postilion, who, on the strength of a few extra crowns, was whipping his horses to a gallop, was forced to pull up, on account of a great lumbering vehicle which would not get out of the way. This was the Normandy coach. I jumped out of my chaise with the firm intention of thrashing the conductor, when what should I see at the coach window but the sweetest, prettiest face-with such eyes, and such hair, and such a smile! D'Est. Your hurry left off, I suppose? Mar. Indeed it did. I told the postilion to follow the coach steadily, and at the first place where they stopped to change horses, I saw my fairy, my sylph, coming down the steps to inhale the fresh air. I dart forward, I offer my hand, I am thanked in the most charming manner; and just to feel my way I risked a few ordinary compliments. I had expected to find in my fair unknown a mere rustic beauty-something silly and awkward. Judge of my surprise when she answered me with polished simplicity-an easy grace that was truly wonderful. To make a long story short, I heard she was on her road to Paris with her sister, that they did not know a soul there, and that some old bourgeois, to whom they had been recommended, was to meet them on the arrival of the coach. D'Est. Then the reason of your presence near the Pont-Neuf is clear to the meanest understanding. Du M. But what next? Mar. Ah, what next! To know that, you must come this evening to my retreat-to the Pavilion du Bel Air. There you will find some choice spirits, a few beauties from the opera, and a supper which, I flatter myself, will be worthy even of epicures like yourselves. There, too, I trust I shall be able to tell you, glass in hand, the end of my story, if, indeed, it has an end at all. Enter MARTIN, R. Du M. This evening, then. Both. Agreed! Laf. [coming forward.] I think we have him at [Points to MARTIN. last. Mar. Get rid of him by all means. too soon. Laf. Perhaps your errand is the same as mine. I am waiting the arrival of the Normandy coach. Mart. So am I. I am waiting for two young girls, two orphans whom I never saw in my life. Laf. Ha! Very good! Mart. They have been recommended to me by my wife's brother, who begs us to take charge of them. Laf. They will be with a valuable protector. Mart. And a pleasant change for us, especially myself. When one lives on a small income, on the third floor of the Rue Guénégaud— Laf. Exactly. Life is not very cheerful. Mart. Especially when one is alone with one's wife. Laf. I see; you are much to be pitied. But it strikes me that we have a long waiting job. The coach will not be here before eight o'clock ! Mart. Oh, dear! Do you think so? Laf. I have only just made inquiries at the office. A gentleman who traveled post has brought the news that the axle-tree of the coach is broken, and this will occasion a delay of at least a couple of hours. Mart. A couple of hours! Hang it! How shall we get through them? Laf. Well, I don't know. Are you fond of piquet? Mart. I dote upon it, and my wife detests it. On the other hand, she likes backgammon, which I abominate. Ah, ah! it is sad to say, twenty years of my life have been one uninterrupted course of backgammon. Laf. Suppose we go in here [points to restaurant L.] and have a game of piquet. We'll only play for the charges. Mart. I should be very happy, but I am afraid that if we leave this spot Laf. Oh, the waiter will let us know when the coach arrives. Mart. If that's the case we shall be all right. I would not for the world Laf. Make yourself easy. I am as anxious to meet the coach as you are. Come along. [LA FROCHARD crosses them. La F. Charity for a poor old creature-charity. Laf. Inever give sous to old women, on principle. Mart. Ha, ha, ha! Come along, friend-come along. I wish my wife was as lively as you. [Exit with LAFLEUR into restaurant. Enter PIERRE at back, with grinder's wheel. Pierre. Knives to grind! Scissors to grind ! Shopkeeper. [coming from shop.] Here, here! knives to grind! Here's a job for you! [Gives knife. Pierre. All right. [Leaves wheel at shop door. La F. Oh! here you are, are you? Pierre. Eh, mother, is that you? La F. Of course it is, lazy bones. Pierre. Lazybones! Well, I like that; I'm sure I work as hard as I can. La F. Exactly; and earn very little more than if you did nothing. You don't make use of your natural advantages. Heaven has blessed you with a limp, and evidently intended you for a beggar; and, forsooth, you must work for a petty pittance. Ugh! I'm ashamed of you. Why don't you beg? Pierre. Don't be angry, mother. It may be very wrong, but I can't. La F. Can't! Won't, you mean. Nonsense! Pierre. Listen, mother. When I was a child, almost a baby, you used to take me out with you, |