THE Pfc. BUSHING COnPANY Successful Rural Plays A Strong List From Which to Select Your Next Play FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur JUEWis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New Yorker. Philips mother wants him to marry a society woman, and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by intercepting a letter from Philip^to Flora. She agrees to marry Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs has v/ritten. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. THE OLB NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New England Drama in Three Acts, by Feiank Dumont. For seven males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four females. Time, two hours, ^ural costumes. Scenes rural ex- terior and interior. An arfvf^i^urer obtains a large sum of money from a farm house thrpt^gli* the intimidation of the farmer's niece, whose husband he* claims to be. Her escapes from the wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting and novel. Price, 15 cents. A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 15 cents. THE PENN publishing COMPANY PHILADELPHIA Romeo of the Rancho A Comedy By JAMES FRANCIS COOKE PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1915 / Copyright 1915 by The Penn Publishing Company Romeo of the Rancho ©OLD 41324 \mL 27 1915 Romeo of the Rancho CHARACTERS Mansfield Forrest , ... an old actor Rosalind his daughter Lucky Lorimer a ranchman TUPPER the bell-boy Time of playing — Twenty-five minutes. STORY OF THE PLAY Rosalind and her father, who have been playing Shake- speare to *' one-night stands," are stranded in a little West- ern town, and don't know where to get a necessary leading man or their next meal. But Lucky Lorimer, a '« cow- puncher," has been following Rosalind for several hundred miles across the continent, and now comes to the rescue. He ii^sists on being a real Romeo, wins Rosalind's gratitude and something more, and even her father has to say, *' I don't think you'll ever get a better engagement, Rosalind.*' COSTUMES, ETC. Forrest. Seventy. A shabby old suit. He speaks al- ways in a stagy, declamatory way. Rosalind. Twenty-two. An old skirt and shirt-waist. Lucky Lorimer. Thirty. A cowboy's costume of flannel shirt, *' chaps," sombrero and handkerchief knotted about his neck. TupPER. A faded, patched bell-boy's uniform if possible. Or he may wear any sort of suit — rather shabby. His manner and speech are *' tough." PROPERTIES For Rosalind, a shirt-waist, some handkerchiefs, pair of white gloves, iron ; for Forrest, a battered copy of the play, '* Romeo and Juliet," a brass crown, spectacles, ring, paper bundles ; for Lucky, revolver, package of sand- wiches, bank books ; for Tupper, a letter containing money in bills, a small sword, cap and mantle for Romeo's part. SCENE PLOT SCENE. — A room in a small Western frontier town hotel. A clothes-line is stretched, as high as possible, diag- onally across the room. Clothes are hung on the ends of the line, leaving the middle free so that the door is visible. A bed, up R., a washstand, R., and a trunk, L., complete the furniture. A poster on the wall announces the opening of <* Romeo and Juliet. '* Door, c. A picture of a fat man hangs on wall up R. c. Romeo of the Rancho SCENE. — A hotel bedroo7n, Rosalind standing at the wash- stand, R., washing out some clothes, Mansfield Forrest perched upon a trunk, l., reading, Forrest {draftiatically), ** If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away ; You, Capulet, shall go along with me. And, Montague, come you this afternoon." Rosalind (^pausing at her work). Oh, daddy, how can you sit there and read Romeo and Juliet when we haven't a cent to get out of this miserable prairie town ? Forrest. Don't forget your art, my dear. Some day you will be the greatest of all Juliets, greater than Siddons or Charlotte Cushman. You will eclipse them all. What of a few hours of sacrifice ? Think of your art, my dear, think of your art ! Rosalind (^holding up a torn shirt-waist, which she is washing, and as she does so it rips dow?i the middle). Oh, mercy ! Think of my art — when this is the best shirt-waist I own ! Forrest {pointing to poster). But after we open in Leadville, one week from to-night, your fame will reach Broadway so quickly that the New York managers will take the next express for Colorado. Rosalind. It's no use, father, you can't choke Shake- speare down the throats of a lot of half-breed Indians and wild cowboys. Forrest. We must have patience, my dear. Rosalind. Patience ? — Say, dad, I've been playing one night stands with you ever since mother died, and I'm so sick of being tied up for our board in poor hotels that I could scream. 6 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO Forrest. Scream 1 I wonder what Edwin Booth would say to that. Rosalind. I wonder what Edwin Booth would say if he knew that we hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday noon. Forrest. Eat? To be sure, — very true. We have neither dined, supped nor breakfasted. But, Rosalind, dear, when your biography is written, can't you see those lines ? — ** When the great tragedy queen, Rosalind Forrest, was young, she was frequently obliged to go without her meals for the sake of her art." Rosalind {gradually working herself up into a fit of great indignation^. Art, art, art ! That's what you always told mother. Rehearsing all day and then playing until midnight. Living in stuffy old theatres and trying to make a lot of cowboys out front understand words they have never heard before. Sleeping night after night in the day-coach of a bumpy old railroad. Dad, don't you think a woman wants more than that ? Don't you think she wants a better home than a broken trunk and a fourth-rate hotel ? When- ever mother kicked you began preaching about art. Some- times I'm almost glad she's gone. Forrest {apparently greatly excited and indignant, getting doivn from the trunk and walking toward Rosalind, r.). Rosalind, — I — 1 — 1 Upon my word, RosaUnd, you don't know what this means to me. I {Sputters and ejaculates, but finally yields to pride. ^ That's the first temperament you have ever really shown. Ye gods, girl, what a Lady Macbeth you'll make ! Rosalind {clenching her teeth and her fists and groan- ing). Macbeth ! Ugggh ! Forrest. Your mother was an inspired Lady Mac- beth Rosalind {ironically). Inspired ? With the sheriff sit- ting on her trunk behind the scenes ? Forrest {gra7idiloque7itly, moving L., near the trunk). That is past, my dear, — we must look to the future. When the Mansfield Forrest Shakespearean Aggregation opens in Leadville, in the Master's Romeo and Juliet Rosalind {in a rage, stamping her foot and shouting). But we can't play Romeo and Juliet without a Romeo. Forrest {^pacifying her). Tut, tut, there ! To be sure, but our new leading man is coming to-day, and I trust that ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 7 he will be above working for mere money like the last one, for as the immortal William says in the Comedy of Errors, "1 have need of present money.'* But, if the worst comes to the worst, I have not forgotten the lines myself. Rosalind {indignantly). Daddy, you wouldn't dare act Romeo again, would you ? Remember the last time Forrest {with dignity). You refer to that brutal cow- boy with a lasso ? Another time will not find me so com- placent. Another such indignity to the drama and Td forget my poise and kill {Enter Tupper, c. Rosalind still at wash-stand, Forrest standing 7iear trunk, L.) Tupper. Say, the boss sent me up with this letter for the lady. And his nibs told me to put you wise. You don't get out of this town until you pay your bill. Sabe? ( Comes down, l. ; picks up a brass crown from theatrical trunk,) Gee, I guess I'll hand these here diamonds over to the boss for security. ( Waves good-bye,) Olive oil. Oh, you chicken ! {^Exii, c.) Rosalind. Beast ! Forrest {laughing). Diamonds ! That crown cost two dollars and sixty cents. But open the letter, my dear. It may be from Fiske or the Schuberts. An engagement, per- haps. Mind you, not a cent less than five hundred a week to begin with, — not a cent less. Rosalind {opening letter and pulling out a ten- do liar bill). Gracious! Look, daddy ! It's money, — real money! {Moves L., toward Forrest.) Forrest [putting on spectacles and examining the bill). Yes, — that's money. I know it every time I see it. Ten dollars. Just as I thought, an advance fee. Our luck has changed. Read the letter. Rosalind {reading with difficulty), ''Dear Lady: I hear as how you and your father are down and out. I seen you act down at Sioux Landing, and I ain't had no peace of mind ever since. I ain't much used to women folks, but I think I know a lady when I sees one, and when you laid out that villain fellow I was ready to jump on the stage and finish the job. Just take this ten dollars and forget it, 8 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO and if you want any more just call on yours truly, Lucky Lorimer." Forrest. Another one, eh ? Give me that letter. (JStands behind the trunk, lays it on the top and writes across it. Reads aloud.) ** No, thanks; there's none of that in my family.'* {Hands envelope to Rosalind.) Put that money back and send it to him at once. Rosalind (expostulating). But, daddy, we haven't a cent. Forrest (sublimely). Never mind, my dear ; you know Tve fought off a hundred fellows like this one already. Rosalind (stammering a little). But, daddy, I didn't mind so much sending the others off. It's different with Lucky. Forrest (blustering). What! You know him? Don't tell me you've got interested in this good-for-nothing cow- boy ! Rosalind (evading). But, father, what are we going to do ? Forrest. Do ? Why, — there are plenty of things to do. Look ! Here is the ring that Edwin Booth gave me when I played the ghost of Buckingham in Richard III. I re- member the lines. '* But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismayed. God and good angels fight on Richmond's side " Rosalind (horrified). Daddy, — you're not going to pawn the Booth ring, are you ? (She takes clothes off the line, drearily.) Forrest (apologetically). Just for a little time, my dear. Just to get money enough to go on to Leadville, where good fortune awaits us. (Enter Tupper, c, wearing crown on the side of his head,) TuppER. The boss says these here diamonds is made of ice. You've got to come over with the dough before one o'clock or he'll call in the sheriff. He says he ain't in the hotel business for bum actors, tramps and beggars, an' (Comes down L. toward Forrest.) Forrest {steaming 7vith rage). Bum actors ! Tramps ! Beggars ! Mansfield Forrest a beggar ! What are the lines ROMEO OF THE RANCHO Q of King John? *'I say there is no sin but to be rich/* Ha ! I may be everything else, but I've never committed the sin of being rich. Nor am 1 a beggar. Ye gods, the brute called us beggars, Rosalind. (Tupper retreatSy l. Forrest follows. Tupper moves r., behind Rosalind. Forrest follows.') Boy, did you ever hear of Hamlet, Love's Labor's Lost, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Henry the Sixth and Richard the Third ? Tupper {down c. ). N-N-N-N-No, sir. Friends of yourn ? Forrest (r.). Have you ever heard of Romeo and Juliet, The Comedy of Errors, Titus Andronicus, King Richard the Second ? Tupper (cojnlng down l., followed by Forrest). No-N-N-N-N-N-No, sir. Forrest {growing louder all the ti?ne). Have you ever heard of the Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, The Merchant of Venice, Troilus and Cressida ? Tupper {down l.). N-N-N-N-No, sir. Forrest. Then you never have heard of The Merchant of Venice, King John, Henry the Fourth, or the Merry Wives of Windsor ? Tupper {near trunk). Never, sir. Forrest. I thought as much. Nor have you heard of Julius Caesar, Macbeth, All's Well that Ends Well, Twelfth Night, The Taming of the Shrew, Othello, King Lear {roaring at Tupper), Anthony and Cleopatra, Timon of Athens, Coriolanus, Pericles, Cymbaline, The Tempest, The Winter's Tale, or King Henry the Eighth ? (Tupper cowers behind trunks scared to death by For- rest's tirade,) Tupper. N-N-N-N-N-N-No, sir. Forrest {triumphant ^ c. ; Tupper behind trunk, Rosa- lind watchitig fro7n wash-stand). Then you, — and the mis- erable despot you call your boss, you are the beggars, and I — 1 am — intellectually speaking — a millionaire. {As he says this he tur?is, throzvs up both arms and goes up stage ; his coat rips up the back from collar to waist as the result of his grajidiloquetit gesture. Exit, c.) Tupper {standing up and turning to Rosalind). Gee, he's a millionaire all right, but his millions has gone to his head. i^As though ivhispering a secret, moving r.) Say — 10 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO Lucky Lorimer's down-stairs, waitin' for an answer from you. Rosalind {eagerly). Is he? What did he say? TUPPER. What did he say? Said he'd give me a hair cut with his six-shooter if I didn't bring the right sort of answer. Rosalind. Tell him to come right up. TupPER. Sure thing. {Sound of revolver shots outside and cowboy whoops,) There he comes now. Me for the tall timber. {^Exity c.) {Another cowboy whoop and Lucky Lorimer comes in, c, with a bound,) Rosalind {rushing to him, c, and graspifig him by both hands). Lucky ! Oh, how glad I am to see you ! Lucky. I saw the old man go out and I just couldn't wait no longer. Say, when are you goin' to chuck up this actin' business, Rosalind? {Both come down, c.) Rosalind. It's no use, Lucky. Father will never let me take a penny from any man. Lucky (wisely). I'm on. He needn't have been afraid of me, though. When a fellow's been through what I've .been through out on the prairie there he's got more respect for women than any of those city fellows. Rosalind {moving to trunk, l., and sitting on it, Lucky facing her near c). Father doesn't know that, Lucky. Lucky. I suppose not. He can't understand what a woman like you means to me. Came way out here in Okla- homa when they first opened up the tract. There was thousands of men waitin' to rush in when the government fired the cannon. I got on a train goin* forty miles an hour and told the conductor I was goin' to drop off when I came to the right place. *