« 이전계속 »
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876,
By WHEAT & CORNETT,
THE NEW YORK DRAMA
A CHOICE COLLECTION
CASTS OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c.,
The Home CIRCLE, Private THEATRICALS, AND THE AMERICAN STAGE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by WHEAT & CORNETT, in the Office
of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
C H A R I T Y:
facing the audience.
Fred. Scarcely. Grave work should be undertaken gravely, and with a sense of responsibility.
Eve. But I don't call a school feast grave work.
Fred. All work is grave when one has regard to
the issues that may come of it. This school feast, 9 Play, in four Acts.
trivial as it may seem to you—this matter of buns
and big plum cakes—may be productive, for inBY W. S. GILBERT.
stance, of much-of much.
Eve. Indigestion? That's grave, indeed! (He CAST OF CHARACTERS. seems annoyed.] There, I'm very sorry I teased
you, dear old boy; but you look at everything Dr. Athelney.
.Mr. Chippendale. Ted Athelney.
from such a serious point of view. Mr. Smailey
Fred. Am I too serious ? Perhaps I am. And Fred Smailey..
yet in my quiet, undemonstrative way I am very Mr. Fitz Partington.
Eve. If you are not happy, dear, who should be ? Mrs. Van Brugh
Miss M. Robertson.
Amy Roselle. Fred. Yes, Eve, who, indeed ! [Kisses her. Ruth Tredgett..
Woolgar. Eve. I did not mean that. There is very little
in me to make such a man as you happy, unless it .Right; Door; L. p. Lett Door:' E. Second Entrance; c. Upper Entranco; 11. D. Middle be the prospect of making me as good and earnest Centre; L. C. Left Centre, &c. The reader is supposed to be on the stage, as yourself-a poor prospect, I'm afraid, for I'm a
very silly little girl.
Fred. At least I will try.
Eve. Begin now tell me of my faults.
Fred. No, no; that would be a very ungrateful SCENE.- A pretty Boudoir in MRS. VAN BRUGE'S task. Country House.
Eve. Oh, if you neglect all tasks that are not Eve discovered with FREDERICK; FREDERICK on pleasant, you are too like me to allow of my hopchair, Eve on footstool.
ing to learn anything of you.
Fred. Very aptly put, Eve. Well, then, you are Fred. [dictating to Eve, who writes in a memo- too giddy, and too apt to laugh when you should randum book at his feet.] Let me see! Three hun- sigh. dred oranges, six hundred buns, thirty gallons of Eve. Oh, but I am naturally rather-jolly. tea, twelve large plum cakes. So much for the Mamma has taught me to be so. Mamma's views school-children's bodies. As for their minds- are so entirely opposed to yours.
Eve. Oh, we've taken great care of their minds. Fred. Yes; I am deeply sorry for it. If it were In the first place, the amateur minstrels from Lo- not so, perhaps Mrs. Van Brugh would like me croft are coming, with some lovely part songs. better.
Fred. Part songs! Come, that's well. Dr Watts ? Eve. Mamma does like you, dear. She thinks
Eve. Oh, dear, no. Doctors Moore and Bur- you are very grave and precise and methodical, gess! Much jollier. (He shakes his head gravely.] but I am sure she likes you—or why did she conThen we have a magic lantern. Here are the sent to our engagement? views.
(Handing them. Fred. Because she loves you so well that she Fred. (examining them.] A person on horseback, has the heart to thwart you in nothing. She is an galloping at full speed. Here he is again. Proba- admirable woman-good, kind, charitable beyond bly the flight of Xerxes.
measure-beloved, honored and courted by allEve. No—the flight of John Gilpin.
Eve. The best woman in the world ! Fred. Very trivial, Eve, dear; very trivial. Fred. But she does not understand me. Well,
Eve. Oh, but it will amuse them much more time will work a change, and I must be content than the flight of Xerxes.
to wait. Fred. (gravely.) My dear Eve, is this giddiness
Enter SERVANT. quite consistent with the nature of the good work Servant. Mr. Edward Athelney, miss, is in the before us?
drawing-room. Eve. Mayn't one be good and jolly too?
Eve. Dear me, how tiresome.
Fred. [calmly.) Miss Van Brugh is not at home. Eve. No; that's the worst of it. There's someEve. [astonished.] Oh, Frederick, I am! thing wrong with my conscience; it doesn't seem
[Exit SERVANT. to be up to its work. From some motive-misFred. Well, yes, of course in one sense you cer- taken politeness, perhaps—it declines to assert ittainly are. But being engaged upon a good work, self. Awful, isn't it? with which an interruption would seriously inter- Ted. Come, something's happened during my fere, you may be said-metaphorically, of course, absence in town; tell me what it is. and for the purposes of this particular case—to Eve. Something of a tremendous nature has be, to a certain extent, out.
happened! Ted Athelney, I mustn't call you Eve. (puzzled.] I am quite sure I am at home, Ted Athelney any longer ! dear, in every possible sense of the word. You Ted. What? don't dislike Edward, do you?
Eve. And I mustn't let you kiss me, because Fred. You know very well that I dislike no one. I'm going to be married. Eve. I'm sure of that. You love all men.
Ted. [starting.] Married ! Fred. No doubt, Eve, I love all men.
Eve. Yes. will understand that I love some men less than Ted. To
[Indicating FREDERICK. others; and, although I love Edward Athelney Eve. Yes. (He is much agitated.] Won't you very much indeed, I love him, perhaps, less than tell me that you are glad to hear it anybody else in the world.
Ted. (after a pause.) Yes, Eve, I'm glad of anyEve. But this is quite astonishing! Has Ted thing that makes you happy. It has come upon Athelney a fault? What is it?. Come, sir, name me very suddenly. I never thought of your getone fault if you can. And mind, he's my big ting married. I was a great ass, for it must bave brother, or as good, so be careful.
come about some time or other, and why not now? Fred. “ Frater nascitur non fit."
and it must have been to some fellow, and why Eve. Oh!
not Fred Smailey? God bless you, Eve. I must Fred. I don't believe in your amateur brother. get it well into my mind before I can talk about With every desire to confine himself to the duties it, and mine is a mind that takes a good deal of of the character he undertakes, he is nevertheless getting at. I hope and believe that you will be apt to overlook the exact point where the brother happy. [She retires.] Fred, old man- [Goes to ends and the lover begins.
FREDERICK ; takes his hand and tries to speak, Eve. (puzzled.] The lover!
but in vain. Fred. The brother by birth keeps well within
Enter MRS. VAN BRUGH. bounds, but the amateur treads so often on the Mrs. V. B. Well, I've done for myself now; go border line, that in time it becomes obliterated and away from me; I'm a pariah, an outcast; don't, the functions merge.
for goodness' sake, be seen talking with me. Eve. Ted Athelney a lover of mine! Oh, that's Eve. Why, mamma, dear, what on earth have too absurd. Ted Athelney—that great, clumsy, you been doiug? middle-aged, awkward, good-natured, apple-faced Mrs. V. B. Doing? Listen and shudder! I've man-a lover of any body's, and least of all of put a Dissenter into my almshouses! [Sits at table. mine! Why, he's forty! Oh, it's shocking—it's Fred. [rising.] A Dissenter? horrible! I won't hear anything so dreadful of Mrs. V. B. A real live Dissenter. Isn't it awful ! any one I love so much.
Fred. No, awful is too strong a term; but I Fred. You admit that you love him ?
think it was a very, very sad mistake. Eve. Oh, yes, I love him—but I don't LOVE Mrs. V. B. A thousand thanks for your tolerahim! (Nestling against FREDERICK.) Don't you tion—I shall never forget it. The village is outunderstand the difference?
raged-they have stood my eccentricities long Fred. I don't like his calling you Eve.
enough. It was bad enough when I put a Roman Eve. Why, you wouldn't have him-oh, you Catholic in, but in consideration of the almshouses never could want Ted Athelney to call me Miss being my own they were good enough to swallow Van Brugh!
the Roman Catholic. Then came a Jew-well, Fred. Then he kisses you.
the village was merciful, and with a few wry faces Eve. Of course he does, dear. Kisses me? So they swallowed even the Jew. But a Dissenter! does mamma!
The line must be drawn somewhere, and High Fred. No doubt, but there's some difference. and Low Church are agreed that it must be Eve. A difference ! What difference?
drawn at Dissenters. The churchwardens look Fred. This, if no other: that I object to the the other way when I pass. The clerk's religious one, and don't object to the other. [Turns away. zeal causes him to turn into the “Red Cow"
Eve. [disappointed.] Then I'm not to kiss Ted rather than touch his hat to me, and even the Athelney any more?
dirty little boys run after me shouting “No PoEnter TED ATHELNEY.
pery" at the top of their voices, though I am sure Ted. Well, Eve, old lady, here I am, back I don't see how it applies. again-well and hearty.
Fred. But, my dear Mrs. Van Brugh, you mean Eve. Ted, stand back; I'm not to kiss you. well, I'm sure—but a Jew, a Catholic, and a DisTed. Eh? Why not?
senter! Is there no such thing as a starving Eve. It's wrong. [TO FREDERICK.) Isn't it? Churchman to be found ?
Fred. I'm sorry you think it necessary to ask Mrs. V. B. There are but too many starving the question.
men of all denominations, but while I'm hunting Eve. There, Ted. Only think of the wrong out the Churchman, the Jew, the Catholic and we've been doing for years, and never knew it! the Dissenter will perish, and that would never
Ted. But who told you it was wrong? Not con- do, would it? science, I'll be sworn.
Fred. That is the Christianity of impulse. I would feed him that belonged to my own church, I pulled him out of the ice last February, and and if he did not belong to it, I would not feed how, in return for my lending him money to pay him at all.
his college debts, he got his father to let me shoot Mrs. V. B. That is the Christianity of Religious over Rushout? No, no—if Fred Smailey has a Politics. As to these poor people, they will shake fault, he's too good for this world. down and agree very well in time. Nothing is so Mrs. V. B. Is he? at all events, he's too solemn. conducive to toleration as the knowledge that Ted. Here's the dad coming—he mustn't see one's bread depends upon it. It applies to all me like this. Good-by, Mrs. Van Brugh. You conditions of life, - from almshouses to happy won't speak of this to any one, I know-not that families. Where are you going?
I've reason to be ashamed of it, but it'll pain Eve, Eve. We are going down to the school to see and Fred too. I'll bear up, never fear, and Eve the cakes and oranges and decorations- shall never know. After all, her happiness is the
Fred. (seriously. ] And to impress upon the great end, and, so that it's brought about, what children the danger of introducing inharmonious matter whether Fred or I do it, so that it's done? elements into their little almshouses.
It's Fred's job, not mine-better luck for him, Mrs. V. B. Well, I hope you'll be more success- worse luck for me.
[Exit. ful with them than with me. Their case is much Mrs. V. B. Poor fellow! There goes a heart of more critical than mine, I assure you. (Exeunt gold with a head of cotton-wool! Oh, Eve, Eve, Eve and FREDERICK. MRS. VAN BRUGH Sees ED- my dear, I'm very sad for you! Is it head or WARD, who is sitting at back with his head between heart that makes the best husband? Better that his hands.) Why, who's this ? Edward Athelney, baby-hearted simpleton than the sharpest Smailey returned at last to his disconsolate village ? Go that ever stepped! I'm very unjust. Heaven away, sir-don't come near me-you're a repro- knows that I, of all women of this world, should bate-you've been in London ten days and nobody be slow to judge. But my dislike to that man, to look after you. Give an account of yourself. to his family, to everything that relates to him, is It's awful to think of the villainy a thoroughly intuitive. However, the mischief, if mischief there badly disposed young man can get through in ten be, is done; I'll make the best of it. days in London, if I'm not there to look after him. Come, sir, all your crimes, please, in alphabetical
Enter DR. ATHELNEY, very hurriedly. order. Now, then, A-Arson. Any arson? No? Dr. A. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I come withQuite sure ? Come, now, that's something. Then out a moment's loss of time, to thank you, in my we go to B-Bigamy. No bigamy? Come, it's not late curate Twemlow's name, for your great kindas bad as I thought. Why, (seeing that he looks ness'in presenting him to the Crabthorpe living. very wretched) what on earth is the matter? He has a wife and four children, and is nearly Why, my poor Ted-what is distressing you? I mad with joy and gratitude. I've brought you never saw you look so wretched in my life! bis letter.
Ted. Oh, Mrs. Van Brugh, I'm awfully unhappy! Mrs. V. B. I won't read it, doctor. I can't bear
Mrs. V. B. My poor old friend—tell me all gratitude; it makes my eyes red. Take it away. about it.
I am only too glad to have helped a struggling Ted. It's soon told-Mrs. Van Brugh, you have and deserving man. Now, I'm very glad you've a daughter, who's the best and loveliest girl I ever come, because I want to consult you on a business saw in my life.
matter of some importance. Mrs. V. B. (pause.) My poor Edward !
Dr. A. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I have been Ted. Did-did you know that I—that I was the intellectual head of this village for fifty-three like this?
years, and nobody ever yet paid me the compliMrs. V. B. No, no, no !
ment of consulting me on a matter of business. Ted. Nor I; it came on me like a thunderclap! Mrs. V. B. Then I've no doubt I'm going to hit My love for that little girl has grown as imper- upon a neglected mine of commercial sagacity! ceptibly as my age has grown--I've taken no note Dr. A. It's very possible. I was second wrangof either till now—when I rub my eyes and find ler of my year. that I love her dearly, and that I'm eight-and- Mrs. V. B. I told you last night of Eve's engagethirty!
ment. Well, old Mr. Smailey has sent me a note Mrs. V. B. But surely you know-you must to say that he will call on me to-morrow week to have heard
talk over the settlement I propose to make on the Ted. Yes, yes, I've just heard–Fred Smailey's occasion of my darling's marriage with his son. a lucky fellow, and he deserves his luck.
Now, doctor, look as wise as you can, and tell me Mrs. V. B. Perhaps. I don't know. I don't what I ought to do. like Fred Smailey.
Dr. A. Well, in such a case I should be very Ted. [amazed.) You don't like Smailey ? worldly. I think, my dear, I should prepare a
Mrs. V. B. No, I don't, and I'm afraid Í show it. nice little luncheon, with a bottle of that AmonMy dear old friend, it would have made me very tillado, and then, having got him quietly and happy to have seen you married to Eve, but he cozily téte-à-tête, I should ask him what he prowas first in the field, and she loves him. At first poses to do. I wouldn't hear of it—but she fell ill-might have Mrs. V. B. Very good indeed, doctor. Upon died-well, I'm her mother, and I love her, and I my word, for a colonial bishop-elect that's not gave in. I know nothing against him.
bad. But, unfortunately, I have already ascerTed. Oh, Fred Smailey's a good fellow, a thor- tained that he proposes to do nothing. All his oughly good fellow. You do him an injustice, in- money is tied up. deed you do; I never knew a man with such a Dr. A. Oh, is it, indeed? Bless me! Tied up, sense of gratitude—it's perfectly astonishing. Re- is it? And, may I ask, what do you understand member how he gave me that splendid colly, when by that expression ?