Drawing Rooms, Second Floor, and Attics: A Farce, in One Act

DRAWING ROOMS, SECOND FLOOR, AND ATTICS

[Characters]

[SCENE FIRST]

[SCENE SECOND]

[SCENE THIRD]

[SCENE FOURTH]

[Transcriber’s Note]

DRAWING ROOMS,
SECOND FLOOR, AND ATTICS.

A Farce,

IN ONE ACT.

BY

JOHN MADDISON MORTON, ESQ.,

(Member of the Dramatic Authors’ Society),

AUTHOR OF

Lend me Five Shillings, Three Cuckoos, Catch a Weazel, Where there’s a Will there’s a Way, John Dobbs, A Most Unwarrantable Intrusion, Going to the Derby, Your Life’s in Danger, Midnight Watch, Box and Cox, Trumpeter’s Wedding, Done on Both Sides, Poor Pillicoddy, Old Honesty, Young England, King and I, My Wife’s Second Floor, Who do they take me for? The Thumping Legacy, Milliners’ Holiday, Wedding Breakfast, Irish Tiger, Attic Story, Who’s the Composer? Who’s my Husband? Slasher and Crasher, Prince for an Hour, Away with Melancholy, Waiting for an Omnibus, Betsy Baker, Who Stole the Pocket-Book? Two Bonnycastles, From Village to Court, Grimshaw, Bagshaw, and Bradshaw, Rights and Wrongs of Women, Sent to the Tower, Our Wife, Brother Ben, Take Care of Dowb—, Wooing One’s Wife, Margery Daw, The Double-Bedded Room, the “Alabama,” &c. &c.

THOMAS HAILES LACY,
89, STRAND, LONDON, W.C.

DRAWING ROOMS, &c.

First performed at the Royal Princess’s Theatre, (under the management of Mr. George Vining), on Easter Monday, the 28th of March, 1864.

[Characters.]

Time in Performance—45 minutes.

COSTUMES OF THE DAY.

DRAWING ROOMS, SECOND FLOOR, AND ATTICS.

[SCENE FIRST.]—Interior of an Attic. Small door at L. flat; small attic window at C., shewing the slanting roof of a house beyond, with two large chimney pots, &c.

At the rising of the curtain, PHŒBE is discovered on chair, R., taking down linen, which is hanging up on a line, and depositing it in a clothes basket at her side.

PHŒBE. (singing) I’m off to Charlestown early in the morning;

I’m off to Charlestown, and little time to stay;

Then give my respects to all the pretty yellar girls;

I’m off to Charlestown before the break of day.

The small door, L. C., opens, and JONATHAN appears—he has a house broom in one hand.

JONATHAN. Ah! there’s my pretty, merry-hearted little bird, chirruping away as usual.

PHŒBE. Yes, uncle Jonathan, and now that you are here, you’ll help your “little bird” to take down her clothes line, won’t you? (gets down)

JONATH. Very well; only we must look sharp about it; our drawing rooms and second floor give a party to-night. Dear, dear! only to think of the swaps and changes of this mortal life! I recollect our drawing rooms and second floor, Mr. Bunny, going about the streets of London, crying, “Hare skins—rabbit skins!”

PHŒBE. And now he’s a retired furrier, with no end of money! I only wish I was rich!

JONATH. Phœbe, allow me to remind you, that when your parents sent you up from Cambridge—celebrated for its university and its sausages—it was in order to cure you of your nonsensical notions of finery and grandeur. (on L.)

PHŒBE. No such thing!

JONATH. No such thing! when you were actually trying to entrap the affections of a young man, considerably higher up the social ladder than yourself!

PHŒBE. What, Triptolemus Brown! he was only assistant to a chemist and druggist, after all. Poor dear Trip, many’s the cake of soap and box of hair pins he’s given me. Mark my words, uncle Jonathan, I know he’ll come up to London and find me out—I’m sure of it, and then——

BUNNY. (without) Jonathan!

JONATH. (paying no attention) And then—only let me catch him coming after you, and if I don’t give him one for his nob—— (flourishing his broom)

The little door, L. C., opens, and as BUNNY enters, JONATHAN’S broom falls on his hat, and bonnets him.

BUNNY. (shouting) Help! murder!

JONATH. (raising up BUNNY’S hat) Mr. Bunny!

BUNNY. Jonathan! How is it, sir, that I find myself obliged to scramble up in the dark to the top of my own house—to the very attics, after my own servant? and when I find my own servant, my own servant breaks my own broom handle over my own head?

PHŒBE. It’s my fault, Mr. Bunny; I asked uncle, as a particular favour, to come up here.

BUNNY. But I presume you didn’t ask uncle, as a particular favour, to demolish my new hat! (shewing his hat smashed)

JONATH. Oh! if that’s all, I can pay for it; about five and ninepence, I suppose. (putting his hand into his breeches pocket)

BUNNY. Jonathan, my ball opens at eight o’clock—it is now half-past six. Is it your intention, sir, to illuminate my drawing rooms, by lighting the gas, or must I perform that office myself.

JONATH. I’m going, sir.

PHŒBE. Oh, Mr. Bunny, if you would only let me have a peep at the fine ladies and gentlemen; besides, I might, perhaps, make myself useful.

BUNNY. Very true! I will therefore entrust you, Miss Phœbe, with the custody of the negus.

JONATH. (aside) Negus! a pint of South African Port to a gallon of water.

BUNNY. You, Jonathan, will respond to the double-knocks, and announce the respective guests as they enter the drawing room—thus, (announcing) Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain.

JONATH. (imitating) “Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain.” All right, sir. (going)

BUNNY. Stop; precede me with your lantern. (JONATHAN goes rapidly out at door, C., and disappears) Holloa, stop for me, sir! (about to go out through door—turns to PHŒBE) Remember, Miss Phœbe, I depend on you. (he goes out, and immediately a noise is heard as of a person falling down stairs)

PHŒBE. Ha, ha, ha! uncle little suspects that I’ve written to my dear Triptolemus at Cambridge! but I wasn’t so imprudent as to tell him where I lived—no, no, I only sent him the address of our establishment in Cranbourne Alley, and——

VOICE. (outside) Phœbe, Phœbe!

PHŒBE. That’s our third floor’s voice. Is that you, Miss Arabella? Come in.

ARABELLA HARDAPORT enters at door, L. C.

ARABELLA. I’ve got three orders for the theatre to-night, will you come? My cousin, Mr. Luke Sharp, has volunteered to escort us.

PHŒBE. (aside) Another cousin! that makes the thirty-seventh that I know of. (aloud) Much obliged, but I’m engaged—I’m going to Mr. Bunny’s ball.

ARABEL. Well, if you won’t come with us, I’ll say good-bye—Oh, stop! do step down a minute, there’s a good girl, and tell me if my new pork pie suits me.

PHŒBE. Pork pie?

ARABEL. Yes—my hat; it’s a present from Cousin Benjamin.

PHŒBE. (aside) Thirty-eight!

ARABEL. Do oblige me, there’s a dear. And, Phœbe——

PHŒBE. Well!

ARABEL. I am so puzzled which gown to put on; I know I look best in my peach blossom silk that cousin George gave me; and yet I ought to wear my light blue satin, for cousin Frederick’s sake.

PHŒBE. (aside) Forty! (aloud) Well, I’ll step down with you; but I can’t stop long.

They both go out at L. C.

Here TRIPTOLEMUS BROWN is seen to get out of one of the chimney pots, and then to clamber in at the window in a very excited and exhausted state—his dress, face and hands, covered with patches of soot—he is without his hat.

TRIPT. Wheugh! I’ve done it! I don’t know how, but done it I have. Talk of exploring the interior of Africa! pooh! that’s a joke to the inside of a chimney! (wiping his face with his handkerchief—shaking his coat, &c.) Well, if this is the hospitality that the Metropolis offers to a youthful and inoffensive chemist and druggist, I shan’t avail myself of it again in a hurry. I left Cambridge for London this morning, in consequence of a telegraphic message I received from my uncle, Cockletop, grocer and cheesemonger—to catch the train, I lost my breakfast; the only available refreshment was a cigar and box of lozenges; under the influence of these exhilirating sweetmeats, I soon found myself at the abode of my aforesaid uncle Cockletop, who, on my taking a chair on a Cheshire cheese, at once informed me that his motive in telegraphing for me, was to unite me in the bonds of wedlock with a certain Miss Caroline Bunny; his words literally transfixed me to my chair—my cheese I mean. I was about to tell him that the object of my unalterable affection was Phœbe Furbelow, when he cut me short by directing me to betake myself and carpet bag to No. 17, Compton-street, Soho—there it is— (pointing out of the window) where he had secured me a small but airy back room, immediately under the tiles; telling me to make myself as smart as possible, in order that he might take me with him to a ball, which, it seems, the father of my intended intended is to give this evening. I promised implicit obedience, and proved it, by starting off in the opposite direction for Cranbourne-alley, where Phœbe told me she pursued the art of bonnet-making. I found the shop, and was endeavouring to catch a glimpse of her beloved profile, when I suddenly received a terrific blow—from a foot—behind—which almost sent me head-first through the shop window. I turned round and found myself face to face with a ferocious looking individual, almost as tall as the lamp-post, and considerably stouter. (mechanically wiping his face with the linen he takes out of the clothes basket, and blackening it) Well, my first impulse was to come Tom Sayers over him, but it suddenly occurred to me that the brawny ruffian before me might be a husband and a father, I therefore spared him, and walked slowly away—as fast as my legs could carry me! but he overtook me at the door of my lodgings. How I got up three flights of stairs, I don’t know; but I’d no sooner precipitated myself into my attic, and bolted the door, then a voice demanded instant admission. Instinctively I seized the poker, the poker reminded me of the fireplace, the fireplace of the chimney—away I flew—up the flue, and I was saved! (wiping his face again with the clean linen, and blackening it) I wonder if the bulky miscreant is still there? (looking out at window) I do declare he’s actually lighted the fire! I see the smoke coming out of the chimney! Ecod! then I’m well out of it! Goodness gracious! (wipes his face with the clean linen) what can I have done to this sanguinary vampire? The only thing I can think of, is that he may have been poorly at Cambridge, and that I may have sent him pills that made him poorlier!

PHŒBE. (without) Now, uncle, I never can carry down that large basket of clothes by myself—do come and help me! (comes in at little door, L. C.)

TRIPTOLE. That voice!

PHŒBE. (stumbling over the linen which TRIPTOLEMUS has thrown about stage) Heyday! who can have been tumbling all the nice clean linen about? One of those horrid cats, I’ll be bound!

TRIPTOLE. (imitating the mewing of a cat) Miow, miow!

PHŒBE. There he is. (turning and seeing TRIPTOLEMUS) No—mercy on us! it isn’t a cat—it’s a man! Help! thieves! police, police! (screaming)

TRIPTOLE. Hush! don’t make a noise! Phœbe, don’t you know me? I’m Triptolemus—your own Triptolemus, just arrived from Cambridge to see you, by the flue—I mean the train.

PHŒBE. Triptolemus! how did you get here?

TRIPTOLE. I’ll tell you another time. Phœbe, if you love me, tell me the address of the nearest magistrate, or show me his chimney pot, that’ll do as well.

PHŒBE. What do you mean?

TRIPTOLE. That my life is in jeopardy—that I’m in danger of being torn to pieces, or swallowed whole—one or the other, perhaps both, if you don’t save me.—Ah, a door! (about to run to small door, L. C.)

PHŒBE. No, no! you’ll be sure to meet uncle Jonathan, and he has sworn to murder you if he catches you here.

TRIPTOLE. Goodness gracious! I’ve only spoken to three of the male population of London since I’ve been in it, and two of them seem bent on my immediate destruction!

PHŒBE. (running to door) Ah! uncle has heard my cries for help, and he’s coming up; and I declare he’s got a policeman with him!—hide, hide yourself!

TRIPTOLE. Where—where? here’s a clothes basket, but it isn’t big enough.

JONATH. (without) This way, policeman.

(noise of steps up staircase heard—TRIPTOLEMUS dreadfully frightened begins getting out of window)

PHŒBE. Mind what you’re about! you’ll slip off the slanting roof and be smashed to bits! (by this time TRIPTOLEMUS has got out of the window) Where are you going?

TRIPTOLE. I don’t know. (begins getting into the other chimney pot)

PHŒBE. (looking out after him) Mercy on me! what is he about? he’s getting legs first into a chimney pot! Stop, stop, you’ll drop into our third floor!

TRIPTOLE. (without) I don’t care! (disappears—then suddenly shouting) Holloa! I’m stuck fast!—help!

At this moment JONATHAN runs on at door, L. C., followed by a POLICEMAN—PHŒBE hastily draws curtain before the window—(this will give time to strike the slanting roof)

JONATH. Now, then, what’s the matter?

PHŒBE. (pretending to be very busy picking up the linen) Only the wind been and blown the linen about—that’s all, uncle.

POLICEMAN. Ugh! Well, as I don’t suppose you mean to give the wind in charge, and as I don’t see how I could take it into custody if you did, I shall be off.

Exit at door, L. C.

JONATH. Come along, Phœbe, come along, I say.

PHŒBE. (looking anxiously towards window) Yes, but let me finish picking up the clothes first.

JONATH. I’ll help you—there. (they put linen into basket) And now come along. (takes hold of one end of the basket and PHŒBE of the other)

PHŒBE. (aside) Poor dear Triptolemus! what will become of him?

JONATH. Now, come along, will you?

Exit with PHŒBE, door L. C.

[SCENE SECOND.]—Third Floor—A small comfortably furnished Apartment—table and chairs. On the table are implements of the bonnet making business, work, &c., &c.—door, L. 3 E.—another door, R. 2 E.—at R. C., a fireplace, practicable—at L. C., a window—candles on table. Loud rapping heard from without at door, L. 3 E.

ARABEL. (from door R. 2 E.) I’m coming!

(she enters in a fashionable evening dress, very much exaggerated, which she is in the act of fastening behind—knocking repeated)

ARABEL. Don’t be in such a hurry; I can’t let anybody in till I’ve hook-and-eyed myself. (going to door L.) Who’s there?

PHŒBE. (without) It’s only I—Phœbe.

ARABEL. (opening door, L. 3 E.—PHŒBE enters hurriedly) How you frightened me, to be sure! But—(seeing PHŒBE who is fidgetting, and looking anxiously towards the fireplace) What’s the matter, Phœbe?

PHŒBE. No-thing; you haven’t heard anything drop, have you? I mean——

ARABELLA. Drop? not I! What do you mean?

PHŒBE. Why—I—— (aside) Then he’s still sticking in the chimney? Poor, dear Trip! he must be a regular nigger by this time!

ARABELLA. Well, I must go and finish dressing!

(goes out again, at door, R. 2 E.—PHŒBE watches her anxiously out, then runs to fireplace, and calls up the chimney)

PHŒBE. Triptolemus! Triptolemus! are you still there?

TRIPTOLE. (from chimney) Yes! Whoever takes this house will have to take me as one of the fixtures.

PHŒBE. There’s nobody here. You can come down! Make haste— (impatiently) make haste! (here one or both of TRIPTOLEMUS’S legs appear hanging down, and swaying about, as if trying to find a resting place, at the same moment, a knocking is heard at the door, L. 3 E.—alarmed) There’s somebody coming! You must get up again—make haste!

TRIPTOLE. Oh, bother! (kicking his legs violently about—knocks down the fire irons, which are standing on each side of the fire place—the legs are then suddenly drawn up, and disappear)

ARABELLA enters suddenly, R. 2 E., sideways as before.

ARABEL. What a dreadful noise! (she has her pork-pie hat on, and carries her shawl over her arm—here the knocking is repeated louder) Ah! there he is, at last! (calling) Come in, Mr. Sharp, come in.

Enter LUKE SHARP, L. 3 E.—he is dressed in a black dress coat, nankeen trousers, very short, white stockings, and shoes, a white waistcoat, and white cravat, with large full bows—his hair very shortly cut, or else very elaborately frizzed.

ARABEL. (reproachfully) At last, Mr. Sharp! Well, sir, I must say you haven’t hurried yourself.

PHŒBE. Never mind. Now the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be at the theatre. (aside) And the sooner poor dear Trip will be liberated. (hurrying ARABELLA on with her shawl) There, now you’re ready.

ARABEL. Yes, now I’m ready.

(LUKE who has been looking on in a very dejected manner, utters a deep sigh, then goes up to ARABELLA, takes her shawl, and places it on a chair, then uttering another deep sigh is about to take off ARABELLA’S hat)

Goodness me, Mr. Sharp, what are you doing?

SHARP. (in a sepulchral tone) My dooty—my melancholy dooty, Miss Arabella. In a word, the theatre is no go—the orders is wasted, and we are disappointed in our hopes.

ARABEL. What! after the trouble of this elaborate toilette! No, I will not be disappointed, as you call it!

PHŒBE. (aside to her) That’s right.

ARABEL. I will go!

PHŒBE. (aside to her) Stick to that.

SHARP. Impossible! inclination points one way—dooty another.

ARABEL. (very impatiently) Explain yourself, sir!

(here TRIPTOLEMUS’S legs again appear, swaying about—kick the fire irons down again, and then are suddenly drawn up)

What can be the matter with the fire irons? Again, Mr. Sharp, are you going to explain?

SHARP. I am; the particulars is this ways: my employer, Mr. Cheesecake, has got the purviding of the eatables for Mr. Bunny’s supper this evening; and being, as you know, of a asthmatic constitution, I am obligated to do dooty for him.

(here TRIPTOLEMUS’S legs again appear dangling down, they kick about violently, and one of his shoes is kicked off and falls on the stage, PHŒBE hastily picks it up and pockets it)

ARABEL. What’s that?

PHŒBE. No-thing.

ARABEL. (taking off her hat) Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.

SHARP. And now, Miss Arabella, I’ve an agreeable surprise for you. The particklers is this ways—my govenor, Mr. Cheesecake, is about to retire himself into the bosom of private life; and then, Miss Arabella, I step into the business, and you walk into the Bath buns, apple tarts, ices, acidulated drops, and kisses! (tenderly)

ARABEL. I’m sure I feel highly flattered, Mr. Sharp; but I cannot dispose of my hand without the consent of my family.

SHARP. Family! I understood you were a horphan.

ARABEL. So I am; when I say my family, I allude to my gallant brother, Captain Hardaport, who is now actively engaged in his country’s service.

SHARP. Where?

ARABEL. On the coast of Devonshire, in the herring fishery. (here the legs appear, as before, kicking violently, and trying to find a resting place)

SHARP. And now Miss Arabella, I’ve another agreeable surprise for you.

ARABEL. What?

SHARP. I’ve appropriated a pie—weal and ham, which is now in a ’amper outside, along with all the ingredients for a bowl of punch, except the hot water.

ARABEL. Oh, I can soon manage that, by lighting the fire.

PHŒBE. (starting—aside) Oh, lud! Poor Trip will be roasted alive! (aloud and very quickly) You needn’t light the fire; I’ll run for some hot water, and be back immediately. Don’t light the fire on any account.

Hastily runs out L. door.

ARABEL. The water ought to be quite hot—oughtn’t it, Mr. Sharp?

SHARP. Biling!

ARABEL. Then perhaps you’ll put a light to the fire; it’s all ready laid. Where have I put the lucifer matches? (looking on the table, and tossing the things about) Perhaps they’re in my bed room.

Goes out at R. 2 E.

SHARP. (finding the box of matches on the table) Here they are, Miss Arabella! (goes to fireplace, kneels down, strikes a light, and applies it—the fire suddenly lights—immediately a loud shouting, &c., heard from chimney, and TRIPTOLEMUS comes down with a run into the grate) Help! thieves! murder! (roaring with fright, and rushing wildly off at L. 3 E.)

At the same moment, ARABELLA runs in alarmed from R. 2 E.

ARABEL. Mercy on me! what is the matter?

(TRIPTOLEMUS scrambles out of the grate, staggers forward, and falls helplessly on a chair, which is covered with white or light coloured chintz—ARABELLA runs behind the table, exclaiming “Ah!”—TRIPTOLEMUS’S face and hands are still blackened, and his coat is ripped up to the collar behind)

Who are you?—why don’t you speak? Who let you up here, sir?

TRIPTOLE. (in a plaintive tone) Nobody let me up; I let myself down.

ARABEL. What do you want, sir?

TRIPTOLE. A basin of water, a cake of soap, and a clean towel. (rising, and approaching her—the chair appears all blackened)

ARABEL. Leave this room this moment.

TRIPTOLE. (aside) With a sanguinary vampire and an infuriated uncle ready to pounce upon me; not if I know it. (aside) Leave this room—and this room a room with you in it. (aside) I’ll flatter her a bit. (aloud) You—you that for three long years I have enshrined in the very innermost interstices of this heart! Leave you—you!—pooh, pooh!

ARABEL. Your face is not familiar to me!

TRIPTOLE. How can you possibly tell till I’ve washed it?

ARABEL. Once more, young man, I beg you’ll beat a retreat.

TRIPTOLE. (pretending great emotion) It’s too much—it’s too much! (feeling for his handkerchief in both his coat pockets, one after the other) Allow me. (taking ARABELLA’S handkerchief out of her hand—wipes his eyes, and then his face with it, and returns it, all smudged with black, to ARABELLA) Thank you!

ARABEL. Sir, when I tell you that I am every moment expecting an arrival——

TRIPTOLE. A rival?

ARABEL. An arrival.

TRIPTOLE. Ann who?

ARABEL. Pshaw!

TRIPTOLE. I don’t know her.

CAPT. H. (without, in a loud voice) Don’t tell me! I know she’s aloft; so clear the gangway, you lubber!

TRIPTOLE. It’s he! my vampire! my brawny ruffian!

ARABEL. My brother! and I, who thought he was catching herrings!

TRIPTOLE. Not he; he was trying to catch me!

CAPT. H. (outside) Now, Arabella, my girl, shew us a light, will you?

(the handle of the door is heard to turn, and as the door slightly opens, TRIPTOLEMUS precipitates himself against it, shuts it, and draws the bolt)

ARABEL. What’s to be done? if he comes in, you’re a dead man!

TRIPTOLE. And if I go out, I’m another dead man!

(here the door is violently shaken)

CAPTAIN HARDAPORT. (in a thundering voice) Now then, look alive!

TRIPTOLE. (in a loud whisper to ARABELLA) Say you’re ill in bed—with the measles—or the nettle rash.

CAPT. H. (with another bang at the door) I can’t stop here all day, shiver my timbers if I can—so open the door.

TRIPTOLE. Don’t!—let him shiver his timbers. You can form but a faint idea of the exquisite delight I should feel at his shivering his timbers.

CAPT. H. (without) You won’t let me in. Then here goes!

(a tremendous shaking and knocking at the door—TRIPTOLEMUS, in an agony of fear, rushes to the window, throws it open, puts out one leg, then looks down, and hurriedly draws it back again—here other and more violent blows against the door, which is burst open at the very moment that TRIPTOLEMUS rushes frantically into ARABELLA’S room, at R. 2 E.—CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, in a rough pea jacket, tarpaulin coat, and the other peculiarities of a sailor’s costume, comes in, looks about the room, then walks up to ARABELLA, looks her full in the face, then looks again about the room—ARABELLA, who has thrown herself on her chair, has snatched up some worsted work, and pretends to be very busy over it)

CAPT. H. You were talking to somebody.

ARABEL. (looking up from her work, and pretending great unconcern) Did you speak?

CAPT. H. Yes; I said you were talking to somebody.

ARABEL. I was.

CAPT. H. Who?

ARABEL. Myself; ’tis a habit I’ve got when I’m alone and want a little conversation.

CAPT. H. Umph! it sounded to me like a man’s voice. (with intention, and looking intently at her) Umph! (suspiciously) Now listen to me, sister Bella. (taking a chair and sitting down) You must know—— (here a noise is heard in room, R. 2 E.) What’s that?

ARABEL. (striving to conceal her alarm) What?

CAPT. H. That noise.

ARABEL. Where?

CAPT. H. (looking suspiciously at ARABELLA, and then pointing to room, R. 2 E.) There.

ARABEL. (quickly) Oh! it’s only Mrs. Sheepshanks, the charwoman, putting my room to rights; she always comes on Mondays.

CAPT. H. This is Friday!

ARABEL. Mondays and Fridays. (aside) I’m more dead than alive!

CAPT. H. Well, as I was going to say—about two months ago I put into Plymouth with my first cargo of herrings, and there I got into company with an old gentleman with a bald head, green spectacles, and an only daughter—the smartest-looking craft I ever clapped eyes on! Well, finding I couldn’t forget her, I determined to follow her to London, got here this morning, called on the old gentleman, made an offer of my hand and my herrings, when, muskets and marlinspikes, what d’ye think he told me? That the young woman I was sweet upon was already engaged to be spliced to some loblolly lubber or other at Cambridge, that she’d never even clapped her precious eyes on!

ARABEL. Rather unfortunate, I must confess.

CAPT. H. Yes, especially as, in my opinion, it’s all owing to you that I’ve been cut adrift!

ARABEL. To me?

CAPT. H. Yes, they must have found out that I, Captain Bellerophon Hardaport, had got a sister in the fancy chip and straw bonnet line, who isn’t quite so particular as to the number of her admirers as she might be.

ARABEL. That’s my business.

CAPT. H. Never mind; now I am here, I’ll soon clear the decks of the whole crew of ’em. I began with an impertinent young jackanapes just now, that I found squinting at you through your shop window, in Cranbourne-alley. I haven’t done with that fellow yet; I know the cut of his jib, and if I ever do come alongside of him again, if I don’t blow him clean out of the water, at the first broadside, my name ain’t Hardaport.

ARABEL. You may blow him wherever you may think proper. I know nothing of the young man.

CAPT. H. (satirically) Of course not! (here a loud noise as of furniture falling and smashing of glass heard from room, R. 2 E.—looking at ARABELLA, who starts violently and looks alarmed) Well, if Mrs. Longshanks, or Strongshanks, or whatever her name is, don’t pay for what she breaks, you’ll have the worst of the bargain all to nothing. I’ll have the old woman out! (making a movement towards door)

ARABEL. (trying to stop him) No, no!

CAPT. H. I tell you I will!

(the CAPTAIN breaks from her, runs into room, and immediately returns, dragging on TRIPTOLEMUS, who is dressed in one of ARABELLA’S gowns, with shawl and bonnet, and veil drawn over his face)

TRIPTOLE. (assuming a woman’s voice, and turning his head away) I’m a married woman, sir, with a husband, sir, and ten children.

CAPT. H. Hold your stupid old tongue, do! and let me have a look at your figure head. (trying to pull him round)

TRIPTOLE. Is this the way you treat a poor lone widow with fourteen children?

CAPT. H. Fourteen! just now you said ten! In a word, old lady——

TRIPTOLE. Good morning! (making for door)

CAPT. H. Pshaw! (pulling him back)

Enter PHŒBE, hurriedly.

PHŒBE. (to ARABELLA) Here’s your charwoman, Mrs. Sheepshanks, wants to know if she can come up? (not noticing ARABELLA, who, by signs, tells her to hold her tongue)

CAPT. H. What’s that?—two Mrs. Longshanks! (pulling back TRIPTOLEMUS, who makes a sudden rush towards door) Then who the devil are you? (tears off his bonnet veil, discovering TRIPTOLEMUS, who has washed his face, and is now as pale as a sheet) Ah! (in a voice of thunder—TRIPTOLEMUS staggers, and falls into his arms)

PHŒBE. Triptolemus!

CAPT. H. My young jackanapes again, and sailing under false colours.

TRIPTOLEMUS here makes a sudden bolt, but is stopped by the CAPTAIN—in the struggle, TRIPTOLEMUS slips out of his gown, which remains in CAPTAIN’S hands, and leaves TRIPTOLEMUS in his trousers and waistcoat, with a very ample crinoline over them—he then makes a rush to the door, meeting LUKE SHARP as he enters, carrying a tray, on which are a pie, plates, and glasses, upsets him and the contents of the tray—the CAPTAIN again seizes TRIPTOLEMUS, who retreats backwards struggling with the CAPTAIN, when close to the window, TRIPTOLEMUS loses his balance, and falls backwards through the window, with great smash of glass—ARABELLA and PHŒBE each scream with all their might, and fall into different chairs—LUKE SHARP shouts “Police,” &c., &c.—the scene is shut in with a pair of flats representing

[SCENE THIRD.]—A Landing Place on Second Floor. Door at C.; landing place window at R.

PHŒBE runs in, L. door in flat, with candle, throws open the window, and looks downwards.

PHŒBE. I don’t see anything of him.—Why, what’s that huddled up in a lump in the corner of the balcony?—it’s he! (calling) Hist, hist, Triptolemus! are you dead or alive?

TRIPTOLE. (outside, in a plaintive voice) I won’t be positive; I think I’m rather more alive of the two.

PHŒBE. Very well then, Mr. Triptolemus Brown, perhaps you’ll condescend to explain why you thought proper to dress yourself up in Miss Arabella Hardaport’s clothes.

TRIPTOLE. I’ll explain everything, if you’ll only help me out of this infernal balcony; I don’t care how—a ladder, a fire escape, a balloon, a pair of stilts—anything! or call a cab, and I’ll jump into it through the roof.

PHŒBE. Nonsense! you’d better stop where you are.—Hark! some one’s corning; lie down again and don’t move!

LUKE SHARP, his hair dishevelled, his cravat awry, and with TRIPTOLEMUS’S hat and coat in his hand, enters hurriedly, followed by ARABELLA, L. door in flat.

ARABEL. Don’t make a disturbance, Mr. Sharp, and I’ll explain everything.

SHARP. Then begin with these here articles of male attire—this coat, this hat—how did they come for to be in your apartment? they can’t be your aunt’s, and you ain’t got a uncle! then whose is ’em?—why don’t you answer—whose is ’em?

ARABEL. I shall not condescend to answer you, sir.

SHARP. You won’t! then nothing remains for me but to precipitate myself headlong into the area below! (rushing to window)

ARABEL. (pulling him back) Don’t be a fool!

PHŒBE. (ditto) Don’t be ridiculous!

SHARP. (looking down, and seeing TRIPTOLEMUS on the balcony) What’s that?—a individual without a coat and hat—it’s he! (shouting down to TRIPTOLEMUS) Holloa, you sir, below! I’m only sorry that I’m up here, and you’re down there!

TRIPTOLE. (without) Are you? we’ll change, if you like; you come down here, and I’ll go up there—ha, ha!

SHARP. (in a fury, rolls TRIPTOLEMUS’S coat up in a lump and flings it down to him) Take that!

TRIPTOLE. (without) Thank you.

SHARP. (still more furious) And that! (crushing the hat, and flinging it at TRIPTOLEMUS)

TRIPTOLE. (without) Thank you again. Anything more?

SHARP. (furiously) You want something more, eh? Then you shall have it.

Runs out at L. side.

ARABEL. What is the man about? (following SHARP, L.)

PHŒBE. There’ll be murder to a certainty. Help—help!—police!

Runs out after ARABELLA, L.

CAROLINE enters from door L. flat, in ball dress.

CARO. Mercy on me! what can be the matter?

Enter CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, at the side, hurriedly, R.

CAPT. H. (advancing towards CAROLINE) Beg pardon, miss, but if I can be of any service——

CARO. (who has started, and turned round towards the CAPTAIN) Captain Hardaport!

CAPT. H. Beg pardon, I’m sure, miss; but hearing you, as I thought, holding out signals of distress——

CARO. No such thing! Me!—oh, dear, no; no such thing.

CAPT. H. Well, miss, I’ve a little matter to overhaul with you. Ever since I saw you at Plymouth, I’ve been thinking that you are just the sort of craft that I should like to sail in company with.

CARO. (modestly) Oh, Captain!

CAPT. H. Yes, miss; so I bore up for London, and the first thing I hear is that you’re going to be spliced to some other lubber from Cambridge.

CARO. Really, sir, I know very little about the matter; everything has been arranged by my pa and Mr. Cockletop.

CAPT. H. Who’s Cocklepot?

CARO. (modestly) He is the uncle of—the young man.

CAPT. H. And you love him?

CARO. I’ve never seen him yet.

CAPT. H. Then perhaps you wouldn’t break your heart if I was to send him to Davy Jones? (savagely)

CARO. Not I, indeed!

CAPT. H. That’s enough. (taking her hand, and kissing it repeatedly)

CARO. Papa gives a ball this evening—I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you.

CAPT. H. And you?

CARO. Oh, I’m always happy when papa is.

BUNNY. (heard within the apartment) Now then, Caroline—how much longer are you going to be?

CARO. Papa’s voice!

Enter BUNNY, at door L. flat, in evening costume, very elaborated, and exaggerated.

BUNNY. (before entering) Not in her room? (enters) Oh! here you are, and dressed at last! and high time too, considering that our guests have all arrived—except Cockletop, and Cockletop’s nephew, from Cambridge—and what makes Cockletop, and Cockletop’s nephew from Cambridge, so late, I can’t imagine. (seeing CAPTAIN) Eh? Yes! Captain Hardaport, I declare, that we had the pleasure of meeting, three months ago at Plymouth! this is an unexpected pleasure—isn’t it, Carry?

CARO. Yes, papa.

Enter ARABELLA and PHŒBE, at side, L.

ARABEL. (aside) I can’t see anything of Mr. Sharp in the street

BUNNY. Perhaps you and your charming sister, Miss Arabella, will join our little party below?