Copyrighted June, 1889. All rights reserved. DISENCHANTED. MELODRAMA IX FOUR ACTS. BY J. M. STEWART. WASHINGTON, D. C. 1889. '^ Cojyi/ru/hted June, 1889. All rkjhts rescrced. DISENCHANTED. MELODRAMA. IX FOUR ACTS. BY J. M. STEWART. WASHINGTON, D. C. 1889. CHARACTERS: James Rochester, — [assumed name,] Clerk in tiic employ of Giogram & Staytape, mercers, in the city. Louis Westing, — Rich and idle, — in love with Mrs. Rochester. Sir Hugh Denleigh, — of* Denleigh Manor. Joshua Hicks, — a Shaker, — member of a small so- ciety recently established near London. Ned Bunt, — a Yorkshire lad. Bowser, — a Policeman — new to the business. Mrs. Anna Rochester, — daughter of Sir Hugh Denleigh, wife of James Rochester. MiLLY Bloom, — Mrs. Rochester's maid; — an Amer- ican girl, who has a will and a way of her own. Mother Stubbs, — charwoman and rag gatherer. Marthon, — Queen of the Gypsies. Gypsies, laborers, and Shaker men and women. l^llie scene of th^ ^yrmcipal Incidents of the play i.s laid in the suhurhs of the city of London^ near the river Thames. DISENCHANTED. ACT I. Scene. — A coitaf/e l. back, ivlth icindoio and prac- Hcable door opening upon a porch at the side. On the rif/ht of cottage is a laicn, and a garden with shrith- hery. In the distance R. is the ricer, nith villas along its hanl'S. ^nd in the far hackgronnd are hills and far- ming scenes. Mus. Kochester is sitting on a rustic settee near L. 3 E. sewing. {Enter M11.1.Y Bi.002^1, from the cottage.) Mtlly. Of nil tlie overgrown boobies in this blessed world, Ned Bunt is tlie innocentest. Mrs. Eochester. What is the matter with Ned, Milly ? MiLLY. AYhy, he says we ought to have a York- fdiire pudding lor the out-door supjier this evening. jMrs. 11. A Y'orkshire pudding is very good; but it is not qnite proper for tea. ]MiLLY. So I told the booby ; bnt he onl^^ stared at me like a great calf {imitating him) and said : *' Anan ! Missis.*' Mrs. 11. Ned seems to be very fond of yon. Milly. He ! He's a lout ! But give me a lout before a loon, for a husband, I say. Mrs. li. You are very severe, Milly. You say things sometimes that only my strong friendship can overlook and excuse. Be patient, dear girl ; help me to be brave in my trial. I hope that the. woild will some day approve my choice of a husband. Milly. {with emotion) Forgive me, darling. You know how well I love vou. Mrs. R. I know it, dear. All is forgiven. Ls everything- prepared tor tlie supper I MiLLY. All except the seed cakes from the sho]). Mrs. E. Then please send Ned for them directly. He is a faithful boy, and ver^' good. MiLLY. Yes ', Ned's as good's a yearling baby half full of paragoric. {Exit into the cottarje.) Mrs. R. {musinfiJy) This is the first anniversary evening of my wedding. Heigho ! Am I hai>i)y 'i — {Sighs) Ah ! am If I was my father's " motherless darling," as he used to call me. Contrary to his wishes, I married, [siohs) It was suddenly done. I was young — impulsive; James was handsome — sad. I pitied, loved, and gave him my hand. ^A^as it wisely done? {muses silently for a inomoit) lie has faults, which he tries to amend under my teaching; is poor, but that is only a misfortune. Yes; I have j)romised to '-love, honor and obey him ;" and, Goy the stile, There to wait my kiss the while: Oh! 'tis V=t- ^iJ ^ L| ^- heart, hi fond era - ploy, Flut-ters with its thrill of joy. For, from joy to call him mine, As our lov - ing arms en-twine ; For, from wea - ry la - bor free, Ja-mie's com-ing home to me. wea - ry la - bor free, Ja-mie's com-ing home to me. {Exit L. 3 E., returning quicMy with Mr. Rochester.) 6 Mrs. E. Home again, Jamie. KocHESTER. Yes, dear; home agaici ; — and such a home ! and such a loving wife to welcome me I Yon are my irevening star, Anna. Mrs. K. Jamie, am I as a star to you ? RocH. The brightest, dear. Mrs. J\. Then, believe me, that, constant as yon leautifnl orb, {pointing upward) now burning thr<»' the evening sky, so will 1 ever shine lor my hus band while he loves me. llocH. Anna, you are truly noble. You took mc^ in my poverty, when rich men were trying to win the ^and ot the young lily of j)enleigh Manor. I am poor ; but I am Ifupright. 'Ow could you stoop to one so lowlv'? Mrs. K. Ask me not, Jamie. Let your own soul answer the question. I chose you because 1 pitied \ on in your poverty and loved you. Koch. For my sake you left a splendid 'ome ; on Mccount of me your proud father threatens to disin- vrit you. Mrs. K. True it is, Jamie, that he has with drawn his love from me. {sighs) I am sontetimes very sad when I think of it. But my husband loves me, does he not, Jamie. Koch. Never doubt it, dear. I wouhl give u]> h'everything — even my club — for you. Mrs. K. {slightly confused) Is this one of your club nights, husband? Koch. Yes, Anna. Mrsi R. Will you stay at home to-night ? I have planned a little surprise for you. This day is the tirst anniversary of our wed Mrs. I^.) She wor a-i)inchin nioi arum, Missus, an' oi wor a troyin' to jnak' her let goo. Mrs. K. Never mind telling now, Ned. You and 3Iilly may letch the table out and si)read it tor te;> here on the lawn. [E.iit Milly and Ned into the cot- tage.) [To Rochester) Shall we take a walk in the gaiden, Jamie, while they prepare the table ? Koch. Capital thought ! Anna. I will pull '.\ white rose lor you to wear. [Exit both, arminarm^ M. 3 E.) [Enter from the cottage Milly and Xed^ fetching a ta- ble which they place near L. 2 E. — Xed having a tea- nrn^fuU of water ^ in his hand.) Milly. Mind what you're about, Ned, and dou'fc scald yourself with the liot tea. Ned. Steddy, laas ! — steddy, noo ! telKee. Tegs ! 8 beant it Iiot ? Steddy, noo ! Dang" ! but tliee's done if, {liter aw. {I'ilts the tea urn and sealds his hand, — then dances tvith pain around the staf/e^ hloalmj and suclinf/ his fingers.) Ow ! wow! lire au'pootlier! lioo it do booriie an' bleesther ! MiLLY. (sooth inf/Iy) ;N"ever care, Ned ; never care. I'll put some arniky on it tliat'll cure it before you can say Tuscarora Tom with your month sliut. ]S'Ei). Who be's Tuscaroa Tom, Milly i Ow ! ow ! [sucking his fingers) Who he's taat chop? Milly. O — he's nobody that you know. He has a i)ack of patent Indians — something" new in the wigwam Hue, — that whoop, and jell, and kick their wives real natural, [erit into the cottage.) Ned. Ecod ! oi wish it wor t'patent Eenjun taat Avor boornt instead o' oi. {shal'ing his hand.) JNIissis Milly she he's so loively an' seech a sweet lass taat ui can't holp a-loavin' her. She's a rare un, she he's. Milly. [comes out upon the porch with a sugar howl) Here, Ned, set this on the table. Keep your burnt fingers away from the sugar. [Hands the howl t ) him and c.jcit.) [As ycd places the howl upon the table, he gaza longingly at the sugar — tahes up a lump., but rejylaca it, shaking his head.) Ned. Na, noa ; it weant do — it weant do. It do looke noice an' whoite; but itworna made for t'lcMke *)' oi. Oi be mortal hoougry ; but oi canna tak" it, — it beant moine. Milly. [entering with a plate of cakes which fthe pliices on the table) Ned Bunt, you are a good, honest boy, — honest as a bran new deacon. Every lump of sugar is still in the bowl. Ned. An' wha' wudn't it be there, Missis Milly, when your ain ])ooty fingers pit it there? Tell'ee wot, laas, it beant liof sa whoite an' sweet as thee be'st. jVIiLLY. Well, Ned, that's very polite, I'm sure ; and I'm much obleeged to you. It isn't every York- shire lad that'd be so honest as you, not by a jailfull of scamps : and it isn't every one tbat could be so eomplinientary, — not by five cents' worth ot* dudes. Tliat's what's making me eenymost love you. (/ooA- inff at him coyly.) Ned. {loutishly attempting to liiiy lie r) Ola as! O laas ! wull'ee loave me. MiLLY. [indkinantly d rawing had) Be quiet, you sheepish lout! I ain't for sucli as you, — not by a dollar and forty cents, — that is (coquettishly) — not perhaps. Eut go and fetch chairs, and then call the folks to tea. Ned. {fetching two chairs from the cottage^ which he places hy the table, turns and calls loudly) Meas- ther an' Missus — sooper be aw reddy. MiLLY. Who taught you to bawl so, like a great bull calf, you oaf ? Come with me; I'll teacli you how to call i)eople to the table, {leads him across to L. 3 E., where liocH. and Mrs. K. are entering, court sies to them) Mr. and Mrs. llochester, tea is on the table. Ned. {imitating her) Measther an' Missus Eoch- ester, tea he's on t'tabU^ (Koch, and Mks. K. laughing, cross over and tale seats at the tahlc. Milly «;ni- ty. She became, as I have told you, deeply attached to me when I was traveling' in America with my fa- ther, last year, and, in pure love, consented to come with me to England, as my maid. She is not at all mercenary ; for, as you know, when my father turned me i\\Yi\y from liis door, after our marriage, in a tor rent of anger she upbraided him, and refused his offer of a large sum of money if she would leave me. IvOCH. Pardon me, Anna. I was h'only joking, you know. She shall stay with you Ifalways. By Jove ! this tea set is 'andsome. You never told me "ow you got it. Mks. K. It was given me by my mother, in her will, — this, together with a thousand jwunds. IlocH. With that thousand pound you bougiit this cottage 'onie and gave it to me. I 'ope the chances of business will never dei)rive us of it. Mks. II. Chances of business! Jamie, — how can they affect our little property ? Koch. I didn't say they could, dear; I was h'only joking, don't you know ? Mes. II. Then, Jamie, don't do it any more, please. Jokes of that sort give me a little uneasi- ness. I know my husband means only pleasantry ; but it pains me. {Enter R. 2 E. a man, who crosses over and hands a letter to Rochester.) IIOCH. {scrutinizln/f the envelope in various post tions) By Jove ! this is h'odd. I wonder what's in this. I ain't used to this sort of thing, you know, — Who can be writing to me, and sending the letter in this way ! What do you think, Anna ? Perhaps some one 'as written to tell me that a h'old h'uncle 11 ^as come from b'liidia with lots of money for me. — Perhaps li'it's a challeiifie. {trembles and offers her the letter) Will you see what it is, h^Ainia 1 Mrs. K. When people receive letters, husband, they open and read them. Koch. That's so, by Jove ! Never tlionght of that, [opens the envelope in agitation and tal'es out a card) Ha! 'ow's this? (reads) "So — sow — sowve nire. Presented by James Kochester, shopman, with Grognim & Staytape, Mercers, Strand, oj)po- site Tlireadneedle Lane." Ha! ha! ho! ho! This is a jolly go. My li'own card, which somebody 'as sent to me, and he's written sow venire on top of it. AVot's sowvenire ? (Hands the card to Mrs. B.) Mrs. K. (turni7ig the card j reads) "Mr. Louis Wes- ting ]>resents compliments, and would be happy to call." EocH. Westing ! Westing ! ' Ow now ? O — yes, I remember. He's a real toi)sawyer of a fellow I mean to say : he's a jolly tine gentleman that came h'into our shop the other day. While I was await ing on 'im, I 'appened to s])eak of you and our 'ome, and lie said he would like to call on you; so I gave 'im my card and told 'im to come h'on. (I'o the man) Here, you — tell the gentleman to come h'in. (Exit man R. 2 E.) Mrs. E. Is it not somewhat dangerous, husband, to trust chance acquaintances to such an extent 1? EocH. That's h'all right, Anna. That's the ^vay with business men, you know. Besides, he's got lots of money. Mrs. E. But is he honorable, — one that would be a proper social friend f EocH. By Jove ! he's a (Enter Westing, l. 2 E., who crosses to the table j bowing.) EocH. (rising) My dear Mr. Westing, most 'earti- ly welcome. M3' wife Sir, that you said you were dying to see. (introducing liim.) 12 (Mrs. E. riseSj and she and West, hoic) West. My dear sir — your liand ; — yours, madam, Kil Tons 2)lait. {Shakes hands with both.) RocH. {laughing) That's good, by Jove ! only slie isn't silver plate; she's solid silver, clear through. West, {aside) Ignorant l>upi)y ! {to lioch.) Your joke, my dear sir, is very happy. The i)icture which you attempted to draw of your lovely wile and your beautiful home so captivated me that I could not re- sist the temptation to drive out here, and see if the reality is half so fair {hows to Mrs. li.) as you drew. IIOCH. What do you think about it now, my dear Westing 1 West, {aside) Familiar fool ! But she is lovely — a true-born lady. Is she weak ? Must have been, to marry such an ass. I shall soon learn, [to Eoch.) Pardon m^- abstraction ; I was buv«;y for a moment with on agreeable recollection. I cannot give you credit IVu* liigh descriptive j^owers. Your language was too tame ; it lacked the vivid coloring which marks an appreciative soul. But, after all, who can, in language, rival nature, in piesenting a scene where everything is so fair I {with a gesture towards the cottage and garden) and, {bowing to Mrs. J\*.) who Avould dare to i)aint, when the grace of high breed ing and the polish of education have done their work so Avell. {Mrs. R. ecinces a little disi^Jeasure.) BocH. {applauding noisily with his hands) Yery good ; very good, my dear Westing, and you're wel come, {to Mrs E.) My dear, you second me, you know, in welcoming my friend Westing. Mrs. B. {to M^esting) Whatever is a true joy to my husband, sir, pleases me. JiocH. Come, Westing, join us at tea. West, {aside) Impertinent ass ! {to Roch.) To be thus honored by you, and gratified by the presence of your adorable wife, lifts me to the summit of hap- piness. rj -.T 13 TJoCH. TJiicomiiion good of 3011 to say so, West ing. {to Mrs. B.) My clear, don't you think we're in luck to secure such a tip-top h'acquaiutauce as my friend Westing? Mrs, R. {uneasily) Your real friends, James, can- not fail to become mine. West. Tlianks, heartily, my dear madam. I take your words to my heart. RocH. {calUmj loudly) Milly ! Milly ! here, you Milly. (MiLLY enters fr 07)1 the cottage.) Here — letcli a chair for my friend Westing. {Enter Ked l. 3 E. with a hucn chair in his hand. ^IiJuIjY seizes it; Ned rcaistH for a moment^ and final I y both carry it to the table. {Exit Ned^ L. li E.) Mrs. K., IIoch and West, tal'c seats at the table.) West. Even your servants, my dear madam, ap pear anxious to i)rove to me that I am welcome. (Milly regards him angrily^ and is on the point of spealcing.) (Mrs. R. There, there, Milly dear; please close your lips very tightly. (Milly mutters " Humph ! " and both she and Ned retire towards the door of the cottage — she tossing her head angrily.) Mrs. R. {to West.) You will please pardon my maid, Mr. Westing. She is a high-spirited Ameri can girl, and is very resentfnl when any one calls her a servant. In America, Yankee girls are called " iielps," not " servants." West, {looking at Milly through his eye-glass) An American girl ! I never saw a genuine specimen before. (Mrs. R. pours tea for West.) RocH. Although it isn't strictly according to the rules of etti — ettiketty, as my wife says, to drink wine with tea, yet, h'on this occasion, so J0II3-, by Jove f let's drop ceremony, and drink to long h'ac- 14 quaintance aud frieiidsliip. (Mrs. R. manifests uneasiness.) West, (aside) Insufferable snob! — and lie the husband — the master of this lovely woman ! (to B.) Nothing more proper, I assure you, sir, than the set- ting aside all formal rules in such a presence as this. (hoicino to Mrs. R.) RocH. Then, by Jove ! we'll do it. (to MiUij^ loud- ly) Fetch that bottle of wine from the top shelf of the pantry, and some glasses, — and see that you don't break any of them. (MiLLY starts forward, slioicing resentment, hut pauses, turns, and goes into the cottage.) Mrs. R. (rising iineasilg) Had I not better, hus- band RoCH. Ko, no, Anna ; sit down. She'll do it h'all right. J)on't be afraid. (MiLLY hands out to Ned an uncorled bottle and a tray of glasses. Ned approaches the table awkward- ly, spilling some of the wine on the ground.) RocH. AVhat are you doing, you fool ? You're wasting wine tliat cost me two shillings per yard 1 mean : ])er bottle. Mrs. R. (distressed) Pardon him, my husband. He is unaccustomed to such service. West, (to Boch) I, too, crave your pardon for the luckless Ganymede of this symposium ; who only in- tended to pour a libation to Jupiter. RocH. (laughiug coarsely — to Ned) No ^irm done, Grann3' Mead ; you can go. (Exit Ned, l. 2 e.) RocH. (to Mrs. E.) My dear, you must tell me h'all about Granny Mead and Jew Peter sometime. (to M^est.) You don't know what a power of learning she 'as sir. Why, before we were married I Mrs. R. Your guest is waiting for his wine, hus- band. 15 RoOH. That's so, Anna. I was forgetting'. {To West.^ pouring wine into his glass) Look at tlie spar- kle, my dear Yellow. That wine is nobody knows 'ow old. Shall we drink a toast 1 Mks. 11. I think you had better omit the toast, husband. EoCH. That's what tliey do at h'all the bid din- ners that I've read about. West. I agree with Mrs. Eochester. This is u social occasion. Koch. Bat we'll do a part of h'it, as we do at the club sometimes ; so — {elevating his glass) 'Pore's to 3 ours, — 'eres to mine, — And down goes the wine. {(h'lnJcs) Ha! ha! {hlc) That's— that's the way to make h'acquaintances. Anna, {hie) won't vou take :i little? (Mrs. R. shaJces her head u-ithout replying. West. drinks sparingly — KoCH. more eopiously.) {Enter Marthon, the Gypsy Queen, K. 3 E., pausing and pointing her fingers scornfully towards Boch. and We^t.) Marthon. {aside) Ha-ha ! ha-ha ! the fly and the spider! — the fool and the fooler! The spider is tempting the fly ! he is shrewd, cunning and treach- erous. Westing, spider! I am th^^ track, and I will some day crush thee for the wrong done to me and mine. Natton, pride of our tribe ere his polluting liand was laid ui>on you, you shall be avenged; but tlie time is not yet, — not yet, — not yet ! {advances to the table.) My ju'etty lady, and you, gallant gentle- men, cross with silver the i)alm of the old wise wo- man, and she will promise you favors and fortunes. West. I do not doubt it, old woman. You have a fortune already manufactured for every fool in the kingdom. Koch, {intoxicated) Ha! ha! ha! {hie) True for you, my {hie) boy. She's got a gold box h'under 'er tongue. 16 West. Yes ! aud a silver key unlociks it. Koch, [hie] By Jove! prime! Piiiich couklii't beat that, {hie) (Mks. K. Please go awaj, good woman ; we do not want to have our tbrtniies told. JloCH. But we do, my {hie) dnxy; we want 'er to tell h'us li'all 'bout the {hie) gold that's comin' h'over sea for Irus. {To We.it.) Wot d'you {hie) say, my boy? West. I agree entirely with your wiser wife, and beg that the woman be dismissed. She is annoying ^Irs. Ivochester. Kocii. {drinks) Wot ! {hie) and lose the great for- tun' that'll {hie) i)ay h'all my debts 'i JMrs. II. {sobbing) Have you not fortune enough now, husband ? BocH. {maudlin) There, {hie) there, there, my dnxy. Don't cry — done(/j/c')cry for spdt milk. H'l say — don't ciy ; h'it makes me feel {hie) h'awful ! — I to Marfhon) G'way h'ohl wise woman — {hie) g'way, li'old gold tongue, — h'old queen o' {hie) dimuns. — You're makin' my {hie) dnxy cry. jNIrs. B. {risinfi from the table, eri/inf/) You will ])ermit me to withdraw, gentlemen ; I am taken sud deidy ill. {To Marthon) Good mother, you must leave the grounds now. {Gires her mone>j) Natton. {seizinfi ^[rs. Foehe.ster by the shoulder, and pointinff towards Westing) Ha! the spider ! He will catch the tly. The fool will be fooled. {Exit n. 3 E.) {EMt Mes. B. into the eottage. As she retires, West, arises, and bows profoundly to her. BocH. keeps his seat and noisily applauds.) West, {resuming his seat) My dear sir, do not let this little episode interrupt our conviviality. Mrs. Bochester, I trust, will soon be better and rejoin us. BoCH. Yes, my boy, {drinks) we'll be {hie) con- wivial — con(/»V::n} 18 is easily influenced ; — oli! let nie save liini. Koch. It's h'all right, {hie) li'all ligiit, li'Anna, ]n3* (luxy ; 'ee's got lots oH {hie) money, and h'l'll Avin it and pay h'np wot we b'owe on the 'onse. Mrs. K. Owe on the house ! My husband, what do you mean i lloCH. [hie) Cliances — business, you know, {hie) osition. She is half disenchanted now ; she shall be wholly so. Her pure soul, looking out frojn her starry eyes, al- most wins me to virtue. 1 will be her chamj)ion. I am already her lover. She shall be saved. I swear it ! {Exit into the cottage.) ( Da rli ness l n creases. ) {During this scene^ Marthon maintains her mena- cing attitude^ until Westing^s exit. Then she partialU! turns and males a gesture of command to some one un .■ 3 to» U3 W T) W> P IT* ^ !=i"^ o ►-' tas o (' r^ ll TT1i I I I TTW ill 1 3LJ4- III iHi ill Ml 1 1 1 B m ?r:^ 2 E" ►^ 3*^ 5 P 2 l-j 3'^ rp -1 "■ 7f'< «r(- •^2? W 3 '~' O o *• S P 2 I I I ai 1 ! .LL 3 ■ i. 1TT 26 MiLLY. That's about the way of it, T believe. I am sine that he's afraid of his gun, for all his strut- ting' around with it in his regimentals. He a soldier ! {laughH scornfully) Lud ! I wish he c'd hear a real secesh yell. He'd drop his gun and run for the sho]i, like a scared dog to his master's cart. I can't see why my darling Anna came to take uj) with him. — But {siffh.s) 1 dare say love alway** goes where it is sent. {Turns and calls:) Ned, — come here. (Ned comes to her s-de from the fjarden.) Do you know who I am in love with, Neil. Ned. Ecod ! Missis Milly, soomtoimes oi theenk, an' theenk, — an' then oi don't theenk ; an' then oi theenk agean ; an' then oi dnnno whaat to theenk ; an' then oi goes a-tiieeidvin' an' theenkin' ance more, an' oi gets mixed loike, an' then I gie it ooj). Milly. Well, Ned, 1 know what I know ; and if somebodv ^hat I know'll do what 1 want him to do, I'll see— .'11 s,'e what I'll tell hi i. Ned. 'leli'ee whaaf, Missis Milly, gin it be sum- mut to do, oi'U d ) it, danged if oi doant. Milly. eoarhujli/) Ned Bunt, you're as ju'oper a 1 id as any girl'd wish to have for a beau; and if anybody says you aint handsome, he aint no great Judge of Indians. Ned. Wa:it be's a Eenjun, Missis Milly ? Milly. O, — he's a wild, harum-scarum fellow with the whooping cough, that shaves ])eople's heads with a tomahawk, and paints himself black-and-tan, and wears feathers and leather breeches, and eats buffaloes and grasshoppers, and washes his face with bear's grease. But never you mind about the In- ey tied from the tields of toil in Egyi)t, — yea, unto their Canaan, did si)oil the Egyptians : did borrow from them their gold and silver, their l)recious stones and other vain things. H'm ! MiLLY. Yes, sir; they help themselves pretty liberally. Joshua. And doubtless the rulers of thy land, with chariots and horsemen, do pnrsue them, desi- ring their return. ;Milly. Yes, sir; they hanker after them a good deal ; but the saints get over to their land of Ca- naan all the same. Joshua. Friend Millicent, this is what I would say to thy private ear; MiLLY. {anf/rilif) I ain't a privateer ! I'm a true- born Yankee girl; and I don't send out Alabama.«, and — and pirates and blockade runners: and — and you shan't call me names, — that you shan't, {stamps her foot in anr/er) Joshua. Verily, Friend Millicent, thee dost mis- take my language and my intent. I said not that thee is a privateer — a vessel of war ; I did but de- sire to speak to thee confidentially. MiLLY. Then why don't you speak out, and not gee and haw around so much ! Joshua. I will, maiden ; peradventure my words will sound sweetly iu thy i)ri 1 mean : thy phy- sical ears. 30 MiLLY. Are you oue of the doctors tlmt go lec- turing- around and i)liysicking j)eople's ears. Joshua. Xay ; I am not. I till tlie laud, with the help ot* my friends: Ephraim, Hezekiah, JS^ehe- miah, Zebulon, and divers otliers. My friend Ke- siah- — she wlio was my spouse before the spirit came upon us and we resolved to establish our hol^' com- munity of Shakers, or Friends, — yea, she who is the daughter of my friend Zerubabel Hinds, who doth expound in the meetings, — she, I say, hath liand- mai fell tbee to tbe earth, — yea, do smite thee hip and thigh. Bowser. H'o ! you're going to resist, b'ar you ? Take that, then. {Aims a blow icith his hillij at Josh- na^s head.) (Joshua parries the blow, Iniocls Bowser down and places one foot on his chest.) Joshua, {enraged) I have smitten tbee to tbe earth with the weapon of the tiesh, thou base hire- ling of the law. Yea, and the spirit doth rage with- in me to destroy thee. Bnt I resist ; verily I stay my baud ; nor will I further ui)braid thee, lest, per- adventure, I do violence unto my inward monitor. [to Ned) Art thou be whom tbe maiden doth call Edward ? !Ned. 'Ees, sor ; ony she do ca' me Xed. Joshua. I will thank thee, IViend Edward, if thee will express, in the language of the unrighteons, the thongbts which rage, — yea, tumnltuously do rage within my soul — even to the lifting up of my dia- phragm, towards this varlet of tbe clnb, — language which my tongue would fain utter, but which is for- bidden unto me. Ned. ' E's a dom'd fule and a b'owdacious jock- aws. Joshua. Thee is correct in tby utterance, friend Edward, to tbe extent of that which tbee bas ut- tered. Yet of a truth it is not sutWciently forceful in quality, and in quantity it is scant. I pray tbee 32 trj' again, — yea, miglitily to exalt the boru of thy wratli. Ned. {to Bowser) Tliee's a dom'd weazen-faced, ])latter lickin' son o' a slunk pnddin\ Thee is ii Philly Stoyne knocked doon wi' t'jawboan o' Samp- son's jockaws ! Thee doant knoo a parson fra a pi- rate, nor a gairden fra a coo-yaird. Get oop ! get oop ! tell'ee, an' tak' t'doin'd caircass sooniwhor else ! {Exit Bowser, r. 2 e.) Joshua. Yea and amen ! Il'm ! Verily I am comforted by thy words of wrath, friend Edward. The tumult which did oppress me now doth subside, even ascometh down calm and peace upon the souls of those who do walk in green pastures and beside the still waters. I thank thee, friend Edward, foi- taking upon thyself the grievous burden of my wrath. Thee is a trusty lad — one handy and help- ful at a pinch. I would fain have thee, together with the maiden, Millicent, dei)art hence with me and abide with our community, where thou canst assist my friends, Ephraim, Zebulon, and divers others in the labors of tlie Held. Ned. Noa; oi canna leave t'good Missus, and Missis Milly taat sez she a'moast loaves me. Missus he's t'best an^ sweetest leddy in a' t'toon, an' oi'll dee for her. Milly. {dapjy'nuj her hands) Hurra for Ned ! hur- ra ! {hugs him) That she is, — that she is; and those that say she isn't aint no great judges of saints. Ned, while there's breath in our bodies we won't de- sert her. Joshua. Thee is a worthy lad, friend Edward ; and thee, friend Millicent, is one of a thousand, — yea, one of ten thousand. Thee is a handmaiden comely to the eye of the flesh and comforting to the spirit. My soul did yearn towards thee when thou didst clasp the neck of thy friend ; and my arms, — yea, my rebellious arms did half extend themselves to embrace thee. Happily, the spirit did wrestle .h. 33 valiantly with the flesb, and conquer in time to save ine in the great trial. [Enter Mrs. Rochester.) Mrs. R. I heard loud, angiy words a short time ago. Surely they could not have been uttered by you, sir, who, by your garb, I take to be a Friend, — a man of peace. MiLLY. 1^0, Miss Anna ; it was'nt the Shaker alone. It was Bowser, the pobceman, who is alter that Westing, tor making a disturbance here last night. Mrs. E. Mr. Westing! Is he here again. Ned. — Noa, Missus : he beaut hereawa'. Gin he wor, oi'd braak a' ees boans. Booser thowt the Shaa- ker Hicks, — him that's yon — {polntin/j towards Josh- ua) wor he; auMie wor a-goin' to knock him doou for troyin' to moorther t'Gypsy Queen. Mrs. K. Absurd! However, I trust the matter will be dropped. I do not wish to be involved in an3- such i)roceeding. {to Joshua) Friend, is there any nuitter in which I can be of service to you ? Joshua. No, Friend Anna. 1 did intend to l^ause but a moment on thy grounds, attracted by the voice of thy handmaiden as it was poured forth in song. I was beguiled into conversation with her, which was interrupted by the man of the law. I take leave of thee and these thy friends. Should thee or thy servants ever have urgent need of a friend, I pray thee remember Joshua Hicks. That man am 1. Our community of Friends is but a few miles distant from London, as thou travelest east. {Exit R. 2 E.) Mrs. R. Milly, I have packed a basket of food for poor old Sarah Stubbs, the charwoman and rag- gatherer, which I wish to send to her. It is too hea- vy lor you to carry ; but as you know where she lives, please go there with Ned, who will carry the basket. MiLLY. Yes, dear, {to Xed) Come, horse — pack ! 34 Ned. Haw ! haw ! Tbee be's a rare driver, Mis- sis Milly. {Exit Milly and Ned into the cottage.) Mrs. R. I feel weary and heavy to-day, as tho' some calamity were impending" over me. {takes a seat on the rustic settee, and leans her head on her right hand) I am not accustomed to thonghts of so dark a sliade as those which now oppress my poor brain. Oh ! heaven ! I trust nothing fearful will oc- cur. I am haunted by a terror which I <;annot throw ott' — scarcely control, {covers her face with both hands and sighs heavily.) {Enter Milly with bonnet on, and Ned, bearing a large basJcet. They cross the stage and exit \i. 1 E.) {Enter Westing, l. 3 e. He advances cautiously and pauses behind Mrs. B.) Still the question comes up in my mind : Do T love mv husbaml ? 1 do not know. I cannot tell. Still the voice, often heard, and now more distinctly than ever before, sounds in my ears: Didst thou well? — didst thou well ? Only those three words; and ah ! whet changes do they ring in my soul! as I contem[)late the path upon which I have entered, and read the sad story which the future is telling. (Jan I endure to the end t What end f When will it come f Oh ! I have tasted the cup ; — I must drink it, though bitter be the dregs. West, {softly) Not so. Mrs. K. {in affright) What voice was that ? Who spoke f {turns her head, sees Westing, and arises and confronts him) Sir — how came you liither and what mean you ? West. I have come, honored madam, to offer an Immble apology for my conduct last night. I was wrong. Having superior intellect and wisdom, I should not hiwe consented, even tacitly, to your hus- band's fall into the condition of brutality from which your unbounded patience and your angelic goodness 35 had partially raised liim. I have had a few hoars of calm reflection ; but I own that my better nature did not wholly prevail, until your words, just spo- ken, fell on my ears, revealing a soul i)ure and noble, but torn and outraged by a terrible en)otioii. Mrs. II. Did you listen to m}' words, sir, — words intended for no mortal ears but minef It was base, unworthy of a man of honor. West. Humbly and with shame I confess it. It was unintentional. I was held by a fasciimtion which I could not resist. But the effect has been for my good, — it has won me to virtue. It shall be for 3'our good, also, if, as I fear, the time shall come when you will need the counsel of a true friend — a brother. O ! pardon me, and believe that I speak only as the highest demand of honor should impel an honoiable man. Mrs. K. I am half convinced of your sincerity, sii-, by your words, — almost wholly so b}' your de- meanor. {Enter Sarah Stubbs, l. 1 e.. with a Jarf/e hun- (llc of raffs 0)1 her bael'. isite stumbles and faUs, scat- tering rags around.) Mrs. K. Gracious! What have we here f Poor old Mother Stubbs ! {Goes to her.) West. Good mother, did the fall hurt you ? (.4.s^- sist^ her to arise, and replaces the rags in her bundle.) Mother S. Not much, thankee, kind gentleman. I had one of my stitches of rheumatiz just then. — Whenever they ketches me, I allwus falls. Mrs. K. Your bundle is very large and heavy. Go and sit on the porch until Ned returns, when he shall go with you and carry it to your room. He ami Milly have gone thither now. I sent them with a basket of food and a few other things for your comfort. Mother S. As you have often done, good, hon- ored lady. I think I sh'd a-perished without your charity. But the door of my poor room is locked, 36 and 3^our servants cannot get in. I will luiiry after them. Mrs. R. Leave your bundle here. I will send it to you. Mother S. Thankee kindly, good lady, and you too, sir, {to Wisting). ^ot many finely dressed gen- tlemen would a done for me what you have to-day. God will bless and prosi)er you for it. {Drags her bundle to the cottage j^orch^ and exit R. 1 E. {Enter ^ R. back, stealthily, RocH. and Marthon. Booh ester is drunlc. The woman carries his musliet. ^She points exultingly towards Westing and Mrs. L\j and ichispers to Koch, in dumb show. She and Boch. cross over to L., back of the cottage, and disappear, — partially appearing ar/ain, but for a moment only, at L. 3 E.) West. This is a bright day in my calendar. T have met a jmre, spotless woman. I have seen squa- lid misery, ohl ami toiling, bravely battling with the trials of life, honest, hopefnl, God-trusting. It has l)ainted a white spot on my soul. Please place in the poor woman\s bundle this purse, {hands a purse to Mrs. L*.), and I beg you to let her believe that you are the giver. Mrs. 11. {ptitting the purse in her bosom) Kot so. Slie shall know who her generous benefactor is, that she may join your name to mine in her niglitly de- votions. Your goodness of heart, thus manifested in kindness to her, has won my esteem and friend- ship. I have had hard thoughts of you, sir; but in their place I now feel only the regard of a sister. This shall deepen in the future, should you contin- ue honorable. AVest. Henceforth, dear lady, my highest ambi- tion shall be to prove myself worthy of the regard which you have so sweetly bestowed upon me. I cannot be your husband's friend, for he is unworthy. {MUB. 11. gives a slight start) Nay; let me not of- fend; — your own soul must confess that my words are true. 37 Mrs. R. (looling doicn and sigh hu/) Alas! I must school myself to bear my sorrow witli patience. West, {talinf/ her hand, Idsslnf/ it, and retaining it while speaMng) May the good augels keep me ever loyal in my holy regard for you. 1 go now ; but I will often return, to prove my sacred devotion. {Enter Milly and Xed, e. 1 E.) RoCH. {partiallg entering L. 3 E.) Ye(/iic)yes, damn you both ; we'll 'elp your courting.) {A gun is discharged near L. 2 E. Westing falls.) Mrs. R. {screaming and running to front c. aitJi her hands over her eyes, and blacl'ening her face) Oh I oh! oh! I am blinded ! I am blinded! {Falls int<> the arms of Milly.) MiLLY. Oh ! my dear, darling Miss Anna ! Oh ! my precious, my sweet Anna! {/Supports her as she sinks to the ground.) (RocH. and Martiion run across from back l., and escape back r.) (Ned runs to Westing, kneels and raises his head. West. I am shot through the shoulder. Go and help your mistress, boy. {iSn-oons.) End of Act Second. ACT III. Scene 1. A room in the mansion house of Den- leigh Manor. {Enter Sir Hugh Denleigh, tcith hat and cane, as from a wall'.) Sir Huch. The morning air of the park has re- freshed me, after a night of troubled, feverish sleep. I am strangely oppressed of late. My last night's dream was wild and starthng in its distinctness. Its 38 terror liniiiits me. 1 try in vain to drive away its impression upon my mind. Ah ! memory ! memory ! Fate! late! My motherless child! — once my dar- ling,— but now Oh ! tliat dream ! What does it portend f 1 saw lier in i)overty, distress and dan- ger, — butteted by tiie worhl and jeered at b^' venoni- ons tongues. Anon she was drifting far out on an angry ocean, clinging to a frail si)ar, while the waves were curling and hissing around her. I tried to reach — to save her; but ever the billows interi)osed and hurled me back. Drifting — drifting, — she i)assed from my sight, as I awoke, affrighted and trembling. [Enter a Servant, k. 1 e. He hands a letter to JSir Hugh^ icho^ (jhnnf/ his hat and cano to the serra^it^ opens the letter and reads in silence for a moment) Heavens! what is this? {to sere ant) You may retire. [Exit servant n.. 1 E.) {reads) ''Permit one with whom you are not acquainted to address a \'e\v earnest words to your soul and its keenest sensibili- ty. I pray for jour mercy in behalf of your daugh- ter, — once erring, no doubt, but now in deepest dis tress: made blind bj' the brutality of her husband, and houseless, almost homeless. 1, who am her friend — who have sworn to be to her as a protecting 1>rother, went to her house to-(b)y, and learned, alas ! that her little property has been squandered away by her husband, and that now, driven from her door by the otticers of the law, she has gone — no one can tell whither. The only clue that I have gained as to her fate, is that, with her maid-servant, she went away with an old charwoman whom she had be- friended. 1 shall cause active search to be made for her. I am suffering from a severe Avound ; but with such strength as I have 1 will second your efforts to lind her. Louis Vv^esting. " Here, then, {gazinff at the letter) is the interpreta- tion of mj' dream. My Anna, — my motherless dar- ling — is blind, in poverty, and houseless ! What dis- tress her silly love emotion has brought upon her ! Westing! — who is Westing ? Ha ! I wonder if he is %iU' 39 one of the Westings of Dale- Westing, at the north. If so, he comes of good stock, and may be honora- ble. But where is he I {scanninff the letter and envel- ope in agitation) Fatality ! fatality! — there is no ad- dress in the letter, and the postmark is so indistinct that 1 cannot make it out. I will go by the swiftest train to Dale- Westing, and perhaps I shall there learn where he resides, — then back to the rescue of my poor, blind, homeless daughter, {calls) John ! — John ! {Enter servant R. 1 E.) Hector and the phae- ton at the door in five minutes! Tell William to saddle Bess, and ride with speed to the station. ]f the Northern Liniited has not passed, let it be sig naled to stoj) and held there, on a case of greatest emergency. {Servant bows and exit, R. 1 E.j {Exit Sir Hugh J L. 1 E. Scene 2. An obscure street in London. Two hou- ses are scan R. and L. back, ivith an alley between them running bade to the river Thames^ ichere vessels are seen. Laborers are moving around back. On the corner of the house l. is a rude sign which reads : Sarah Stubbs — Charing done. On the opposite house is a swinging sign hanging over the alley which reads : Jin and Shery. Ladys and Jents cum in & VELCUM. Both buildings have practicable doors opening upon the alley, and the house L. has also a practicable win- dow, fronts before which stands a rude wooden bench. {Enter, L. 2 E., Sarah Stubbs, carrying a large bundle on her back, and Mrs. Rochester, with a ribbon tied over her eyes, led by Milly, who also car- ries several bandboxes and packages. They enter the door of the house L. whence Milly quickly comes out. Milly. {advancing two or three paces) Oh, dear! Ob, dear ! Oh, dear! My ! My ! My !— Of all the 40 upsets in this awful world, I dou't believe there ever was another like this. {Several laborers gather near and liHten to her) Darling Miss Anna with no home to go to but this tumble-down old shanty that is stuck in the nasty mud. Jim Rochester, her good- for-nothing husband (Ugh I could scratch liis eyes out !) has gone to the devil and I'm sure I pity the Devil and the sheriff has turned us out of doors. If it hadn't a-been for Motlier Stubbs, we'd a-iiad nowhere to go to for a shelter. {Excitement amonq the Lahorer,% and cries of " Good for Mother Stubbs ! ") -Oh ! it's a nice mess that awful, awful fellow has made of marrying! (I could tear his hair all out !) I'd as soon have a lank yellow dog for a hus band as such a man as he. He's worse than a thiev- ing, sneaking Pawnee. But it's done now, and it can't be undone. I suppose I've got to be the main stay of this part of the crowd, and I will be, as long as my fingers hnhl out. Ned, the dear boy, is work- ing for Farmer Shaker Hicks's people, and he has ]uomised to give me all of his wages to help support Miss Anna. I do love that good, honest, sober fel low, for all he's only a lout that doesn't know how to court worth a cent. But perhaps that's a bles- sing, after all ; for love and green wood won't make the kettle boil. I'll go to sorting and selling rags Avith Mother Stubbs, who, if she is poor, has got the biggest go to-heaven heart of anybody that I've seen in this foggy, nasty-smelling cit^'. {Hats of and cheers among the laboreks, — one of nhom enters the house R., quicllg returning with a tumbler full of liquor^ which he hands to Mllly.) MiLLY. {taliiiuj the tumbler in her hand) I thank you, friend, just as much as if I'd a-drank the whole barrel. I'll touch the glass with my lips and give you a toast which you may all drink. Here's to Sarah Stubbs, who found the jewel, Charity, in a ■^'^ c *idv? 41 heap of rag's. {Touches the tumhler with her lips and hands it hack to the man.) [Laborers dr'uik^ handing the tumbler around.) {Enter Mother Stubbs, /rowi the house. Laborers cheer her.) Mother S. Tliankee, friends. I know tlie good 'earts you 'ave, li'if you are poor, 'a rd working men. MiLLY. AVell, Sarah Stnbbs; you've got your hands full of us now. You've taken a big contract ; but 1 hope it'll turn out to be a good one for you. Mother S. I aint a-coniplainin' dear, — least- wavs, 1 aint sorry for mvself. 1 do feel nwi'ul bad for the poor lady that's been brought so low by niis- fortun' — I do. MiLLY. It's Satan agin Providence. Mind what I say, Sarah Stubbs, — its Satan agin Proviirl. West, {aside^ to Bowser) All is well for the pres- ent. Here is my card ; [hands B. a card) take it t(> Prof. Blagdon, the occulist, in Piccadilly. Tell him to come hither to morrow morning", and examine ^Irs. Ilochester's eyes. Say to him that I will call upon him to morrow at twelve o'clock sharp, to hear his rei)oit. Here are two guineas, [hands B. money) I will double the sum to you, if you will conduct the Professor hither. Bowser. H'I'll be true as steel, sir. 'Opes you'll speak a good void for me to the chief. H'l wants to rise, sir. \Vest. I will do so. Now go. the Professor must have this card in one hour. Find him, wherever he may be. [Exeunt West, and i?., L. 1 E.) [Enter liocH. from the house R. He staggers toicards the window^ ichich Milly hastily closes.) Koch. ' Ello ! h'old Stubbs ; who's your i)ard- ner ! Bring 'er h'out, you h'old princess o' shillin's. JJring 'er h'out, h'old woman, and le'ss see'er sliine ! [Goes to the tvindow and shales it.) [Laboht^u^ angrily crclaim: Drunken brute! Kick 'im ! Give Mm a pounding! Duck Mm h'in the river! They seize Bochester, drag him down the alley, and throic him into the river, from which they rescue him, and then force him out of sight, back r. 47 {Enter, L. 2 E., Ned, in Shaker garb, hearing a large baalet of floicers.) Ned. This be t'hoose, sure/]/, where Friend Mis- sis Milly an' Friend Missus Anna he's, — yah, veri/y, h'm ! Oi'll knock on t'doore. Peradhaps they be's hereaway. {Raps on the door.) Milly. {opening the icindoiv and looking out) If it's tliat dreadful villain a|?ain, I'll scream murder. {turning her face) Sarah Stubbs, don't you open that door. Ned. Sure/7/, yea, veri/^, h'm ! taat be's friend Milly's voice. {Comes around the corner.) Missis Milly ! Missis Milly ! it be's ony oi. Milly. O, — it's \ou, is it, dear old Ned. I'm ^•lad to see 3'ou. Wait a moment. {Comes out from the door.) Ned. Oi's moij»hty glod to see 'ee, friend Missis Milly — t'laas taat oi loave as t'peeg" loaves t'w«iter brookes. II 'm ! Milly. Why, Ned, have you turned to shaking Avith the Shakers ? Ned. ' Ees, friend Missis Milly. Friend Ephra- ham 'ee do say taat oi ha' t'speerit; an' loike eneaf oi do, for oi feel quair an shaky loike soomtoimes. Milly. Ned, it isn't every spirit that can catch as good a boy as you are, — not by a graveyard full of lunatic. . But what have you here! {pointing to the basket. Ned. Soam poosies for'ee an't'good Missus; an' yere be a bit o' mooney, {hands her money) to help 'ee in tribulation an' sorrow. H'm ! Milly. Ned Bunt, you're as good as a whole gos- pel wagon load of street missionaries. You're line gold. {Raps on the window and calls): Dear Miss Anna and Mother Stubbs, come out. Here's Ned ; and he's brought us money and flowers. {Enter Mother S.from the house, leading Mrs. R. Mrs. E. Where are you, Ned ? {feeling around) Come and take me by the hand, you faithful boy. \ ;.^ 48 Ned. {wiping his eyes as he tales her hand) Oh ! it do be awful to see 'ee in thees a-place, an' thee bloind, dear friend Missus Anna. It do braak moi yeart loike. Mr8. R. True heart! I have yet niucli to be thankful for, with such tender friends around me. My misfortune is perhaps a Just punishment. Ned. {vehemently) Noa ! telFee ; noa ! friend Mis- sus. Thee be's too goode to be used in this away. It's dom'd — h'm ! — it be too hard for thee wha never hurt yan o' God's creeters. It's na Proovidence taat done it; it be's t'dom'd — h'm ! — it be t'J)evil, sure, — blaast 'ees boanes ! {Throiis his hat upon the ground) Mrs. R. We must all be resigned, true friend. How can I thank you for lielping me ? Milly says that 3'ou have brought her money for our expenses. I would refuse to receive it, if I did not think my re- fusal would give you ])ain. Ned. {resuming his hat) Taak it, friend Missus, an' mooch goode may it do 'ee. Oi'm yearty glod taat oi'm able to helj) 'ee, in sore misfortun' an mis ery. An' yere be [)00sies, Missus. {Hands the basket to her.) Mrs. E. {talcing the haslet and smelling at the flow- ers) How kind ! how generous! how thoughtful! — Koses, lilies, pinks and pansies. They are very sweet and fresh. {Ehtr Westing, l. 1 e. He motions all to Iceep silence respecting his presence^ as he advances.) {Enter, unperceivedj Marthon, r. 1 e. JShe tcith- draws partially.) {Enter Laborers, r. & l., fetching more rags, which Milly receives — thanking them. Laborers cluster around Mrs, B., gazing with delight at the flowers.) Ned. Oi'll fetch more poosies, friend Missus An- na ; an' peradhaps t'sweet friend Missis Milly can sell 'em, gin she troys. Taat'll may-be help 'ee. Mrs. R. Compassionate, thoughtful boy ! I, too, must do something. I will distribute them among \"'' 49 the faitlifiil i)eoj)le wlio are giving rags to Mother S. and Mill3'. {Makes offers of the flowers.) (Laborers variously exclaim: Sell them, poor lady. Sell them. We'll bny them, etc.) Mrs. R. If you so wish, good people, I will sell them to yon. I cannot see to pick over rags; but I can sing, if you would like to hear me. (Laborers cj7.b- --S^ -^-^ 1. I am blind, bereaved.andlonely.Pit- y thou poor me; 2. Buy my darlings. buy my flowers. Fresh "from dfwy lea. 3. Here's a vi;) - let, modest.neatest.Hued like az-ure sea, 4. Help the lone-ly,blind,despair-ing, rit- y thou poor me. -J^c\i \~ s> I've but pleasant wish-es on - ly, Kind one, for thee. Born among the summer bow-ers, Kind one, for thee. Shedding per-fume pur-est, sweetest, Kind one, for thee. Like the gen -tie an-gel car -ing, Kind one, for thee. "^EU -4-- ~x ^-^^- Earth for thee hath scenes of beauty. Skies are blue and fair; Here's a rose-bud. rich, the rar- est Daughter of the day. Here's car-na- tion.pal-ing.blushing Like a maid -en meek, Buy my dar-lings,buy my beauties,Children of the sun, g r=t W -:\- i^ "0 H Mine is but a life of du-ty— Hope is nought but care. Here's a li - ly, dear-est.fairest For a bright bouquet. With the warm life-currents flushing O'er her downy cheek. They will teach thee ten-der du-ties, Till their day is done. 50 {During the singing, Westing tal'es Jfoivcrs from her hand, ichich he distributes among the laborers, — at the same time dropping gold coins into the basket.) (Laborers, with suppressed voices, exclaim : Gold ! Gold! Good for the stranger! At the close of the song, they exclaim: Ten golden guineas! Hurrah! for the stranger, — swinging their hats. !N^ED. Hooroar ! hooroar ! didst ever see t'beat o' thot i (Westing motions all not to reveal his name. Exit Westing.) Mrs. li. Who is this stranger, that has bouglit the flowers at such an enormous price? {feels around) Let me take him by the hand and thank him. Mother S. He's gone, dear lady, without tell- ing us his name. Mrs. K. May Heaven reward him. (Lights down — night is coming on.) MiLLY. {to Mrs. B.) It is beginning to grow dark, dear. Let us go into the hou^e and ])rei)are for the night, {to the Laborers) Friends, noble-hearted Eng- lishmen, we will pray for you to-night. {Exit Laborers, r. & l. back, with hats off.) Mrs. K. Yes; we will pray for them and for the generous stranger. Ned, take my thanks and bles- sings with you as \'ou return to the community. God will surely reward you. Good night. Ned. Goode noight, friend Missus Anna. Oi'U koom agean, — oi'll koom agean, wi' moore poosies an' mooney for 'ee. MiLLY. Ned, it isn't everybody that I'd let kiss me, — not by five cents' worth of dudes. But you, Ned, — if it would obleege you whj- {offering her cheelx.) Ned. awkwardly Jcissing her) Hooneyan' t'hooney coomb! H'm ! Oi can taste it noo. {smacl'in{/ his lips.) Ecod! H'm!Efegs!it do run aw doou moi 61 back loike. Goode noigiit Missis Milly, moi dear loave. {Exit L. 1 E., carrying the basJcet.) {Exit Mrs. 11., Mother S. and Milly into the house.) {Exit Laborers, r. & l. and down the allci/, ex- claiming: God bless the blind lady! Hurrab ! for Mother Stubbs. Hurrah ! for the brave Yankee lass. Marthon. {advancing cantiousli/) Ha ! it was gold ! bright, shining gold! and from his hand, who never crossed the poor Gjpsy's palm with even a silver sixpence. Ha ! one shall know of this whom they would scarce care to see. From the hand of m3 enemy ! curse him ! — and into her hand instead of Natton's ! into the hand of his new mistress ! — Sdly fool ! {makes a gesture of menace towards the house) minion ! — clutch well your gold! It may not be yours to-morrow. {Exit R. '2 e.) Scene 3. — Evening. A plain Room in a Shalcer^s house. A table and a lighted candle are represented on the right slide. {Enter Joshua Hicks, l. 1 e., counting on his fin- gers. Joshua. Three yearlings, atone pound ten each, is four pound ten. Verily the trading was not brisk ; but it sulficeth. Better a little, with thankfulness, than great riches with a proud stomach. H'm ! And the poultry and eggs, — likewise the vegetables and a]>ple sauce, — they sold fairly — yea, fairly. A trifle more on the pound for the rolls of butter would not have been too much ; but it w^as passing well. The day hath not been altogether propitious ! but the sunshine of prosperity may come on the morrow. {Enter Westing l. 1 E., hastily, as though from a rapid drive.) West, {aside) This must be the man. Joshua. Does thee seek any one, friend? 52 West. Yes; I bave come to see one Joshua Hicks. Joshua. I am that mau, friend. What is thv wish 1 West, {removing his hat) 1 have come to jou, sir, on an errand of mercy and charity. Joshua. Thee is welcome, friend. Cover tliy head again. Kemoving" the hat when conversing' with a fellow man is a vain custom. It smacketh of the manners of the idohitors. What is thy name, and what does tliee require 1 West, {putting his hat on his head) I am Louis Westing, — of the family of Westing of l>ale\Vest- ing. Joshua. Verily, a good stock, — albeit somewhat vain ; but honorable and of long ancestry. Speak thy wish, friend Lewis. West. I have come hither from a scene of pov- erty and wretchedness, — honest industry, but great destitution. A lady who, as 1 have learned, is the daughter of Sir Hugh Denleigh, of J)enleigh Manor, is in deep distress. One year ago she married, clan destinely, an ignorant, low-bred fellow, who has squandered her property and maltreated her. Joshua. Maltreated, did thee say ? West. Yes. In a tit of jealousy and drunken fury, he caused an assault to be made upon her with a loaded musket, which blinded her and wounded me. He escaped, and is still in hiding. I shall not ])refer a charge against him, as I would spare his wife the pain and scandal of a legal proceeding. Joshua. Verily he was a man of wrath. 1 trust he had no cause for his jealousy. West, {raisim/ his hat) None, so help me Heaven. Joshua. It is well, friend Lewis. What does thee require, in which I can be of service to thee and her ? West. I beg an asylum for her until such time as 1 can see and prevail upon Sir Hugh Denleigh to pardon and receive her again in the home of her 53 youth. Meantime, as her Deed is urgent, I have se- cured the services of a celebrated occulist in London, Avho will visit her to morrow morning, in her present place of abode, examine her e^es, and i>erform an operation upon them, if he deem it possible that her eyesight can be restored. Joshua. Thee has done well, friend Lewis. West. She is now in a miserable lodging, in the city, in the midst of poverty, but surrounded by those who would die in her defence, if need be. 1 would have her brought to this lovely place, where, if her eyesight be restored, she shall behold, from the first, only pure and pleasant scenes. Joshua. A daughter of him who is called Sir Hugh Denleigh ! It is strange. And in poverty and wretchedness! Fetch her hither, friend Lewis. She shall find a home with us, — albeit not like to the splendor and luxury of Denleigh Hall. West. I thank you, sir, for her and for myself. I will i)ay whatever charges you may make for her entertainment. l*oor, suffering Mrs. Kochester will find comfort, tenderness and repose here among your peaceful people. Joshua. Mistress Kochester ! did thee say ? — Hath she a handmaiden named Millicent ? and did she dwell in a cottage nigh unto the river? West. The same. Joshua, {aside) I marvel that friend Edward did not tell me of tliis misfortune, [to West.) Is the handmaiden still with thy friend f West. Yes. They were both taken by a rag- gatherer named Stubbs, whom Mrs. Kochester had befriended, to her miserable room, where they are at ])resent sheltered. Milly, the maid, — a thoughtful, shrewd Yankee girl, — has even established a rag- gathering^tusiness, with Mrs. Stubbs, for the support of her mistress; and, from the way that she mana- ges, I think she will soon have all the rag-pickers in that part of the city in her employ, if she is not re- moved from among them. 54 Joshua, [dryly) Very likely, friend, — yea, very likely. I, too, can testify as to lier energy and as- tuteness. Fetch both the mistress and the maid, also the rag-gathering woman, even she that is called Stubbs. They shall all be welcome to our hospital- ity. Yet wait. Tarry thou with us to-night. The morrow will be the Sabbath, wherein neither we nor our beasts may work. The succeeding day will be market day, and T nmy not neglect the weigiity af- fairs of our community. If on the tliird day of the week thee will come hither, I will go with tliee to the l>resent abiding i)lace of thy friend, and oft'er her a home among the people of our faith. I will order thy beast to the stable, and give thee supper and lodging. [Exeunt L. 1 E.) Scene 4. Same as seeno second. Lights loic doicn. Wight. [Enter Marthon and Koch., e. 1 e., pecrlnf) can- tlousli/ around, lliey advance to the uindow L. and try to open it. It is fastened securely. They go to the door, irhlch Bochester forc?s open ivith a jimmy. Be enters the room. Marthon comes back to the wi)idow. Soon are heard screams and cries of Thieves ! thieves ! murder! help! Milly opens the window, screaming: Thieves ! help ! help ! Marthon seizes and tries to choke her. Laijoreus enter ii. & l. 2 E. They seize Marthon, force her down /upon the bench and hold her there. Bochester comes from the door, grasping one end of a purse, which Mrs. R. tries to prevent him from stealing. He drags her out, saying: "Let go, 3'oujade! Westing's mistress! Let go !" Throws her to the ground.) Mrs. R. [falling) Oh ! Heaven ! it is my husband ! [Enter MOTHER S., who goes to the assistance of Mrs. B.) [Bochester tries to escape R. 2 E., but is caught by Laborers, tcho drag him to the bench where Marthon 55 is held. Laborers tie the hands of Marthon and Roch. together with a cord which Mllly hands them from the windoiv.) MiLLY. {to Laborers) Take tbem away, please, and give them cowboy justice : — five minutes for spiritual refreshment, and a swift run — up a tree. {Exeunt Laborers with prisoners, R. 2 E. MiLLY. {looking right and left from the windoiv) Where, oh! where is my darling- girl ? Mother S. {who is JcneeUng beside Mrs. Rochester, supporting her head) She is here, dear. Come and help me. {As they are trying to raise Mrs. Rochester from the ground, the Curtain is lowered.) End of Act Third. ACT lY. Scene 1. — A City IStrect. {Enter Westing, l. 1 e., leisurely walling to c, where he suddenly stops and gazes to R. E. earnestly.) West. A wonderful likeness, truly. Can it be possible that it is a deception. I will certainly speak to him. {Enter, R. 1 E., Sir Hugh Denleigh, icitha card in his hand which he consults.) Sir Hugh. This is the street where he resides. His hotel must be near, {advances to c.) West, {to Sir H., raising his hat and handing him a card.) Pardon me, sir, if I am wrong. Your re- semblance of a lady in whose welfare 1 am greatly interested must be iny excuse for accosting you. Sir Hugh, {gruffly, as he tales the card) Very strange proceeding! {Sloivly wipes and adjusts his eyeglass, then looks at the card. Ha ! {aside) the very man that I am looking for! {to Westing) Your par- 56 (Ion is most gratefiill.v granted, sir ; for, if this card does not deceive me, I am deeply in yonr debt for the i)romise of vahiable service in the canse of a be- loved member of my family. 1 am Sir Hngh Den- leigh. AVest. Then 1 am trnly fortnnate. I am, as my card annonnces, Mr. Lonis Westing. I had the hon- or to address a short note to you a few days ago, in the interest of Mrs. liochester, who was in i)overty and distiess. As I received no reply from you, I feared that my api)eal had been made in vain. 8iR Hugh, (testilif) But how the Devil, man, was I to rei)ly, >\hen I didn't even know where you were 1 West. Did not my letter inform you, Sir Hugh f Sir Hugh. No; it had no address. But your aj)- ])eal was not in vain. 1 have been searching for you from the very moment in which 1 read your letter. I have just returned from Dale-Westing, whither I Averit, hoping there to receive information which would put me in communication with you. West. Could I have been so stupid as to omit my address ? But I was suffering from ]iain at the time of writing. That, doubtless, was the cause of my carelessness. Now, however, that 1 have met you, and my reception has been so kind, I cannot but feel that all will soon be well for your daughter. Sir Hugh. The scoundrel who maltreated her — where is he ? West. Sentenced by the court to transi)ortation for life, for burglary and attempted murder, — the particulars of which 1 will give you anon. Sir Hugh. Then I am truly happy. Will you take me at once, sir, to the house where my daugh- ter is staying? West. She is no longer in the city, sir. I sought the aid of a community of very worthy people, — Shakers, peaceful and kindly, — whose settlement is a few miles distant from the city, and with them she is no\v living — contented and measurably happ3', — breathing pure air and receiving the kindest atten- 57 tioiis. I have a tlioroughbied which will take ns there in twenty minutes. I and my horse are at your service, Sir Hugh. Sir Hugh, {with emotion) That I can be truly grateful to yon, sir, I trust that the future will abun- (lantly show. I will call upon m^* solicitor, for a few minutes' consultation, and in one hour I will be at your hotel, ready to accompany you. Meantime, — {both raise their hats, how in silence, and exeunt — iSir Hugh R., Westing L. Scene 2. — The Shaler Settlement, by Daylight. In the background are two plain Houses. Jn the fore- ground is a lawn with two tong benches 11. &: i.. par- allel to each other.) {Enter, in single files, Shaker men l. 3 e. Sha- ker WOMEN, R. 3 li. They gravely march down and tale seats on the benches facc7txp~e(ieh other. At a sig- nal, given by the male leader, they arise and dance — singing as follows: dr::: i » 1. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a- Mo - ses, 2. Shake, shake a - long, a -shake a - long a - L^a - vid, 3. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a- To - ter, 4. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a - Dan - lei, * Clio. Hi - yah yah, yah, hi - yah hi - yali, +f 9 9 9 9—. j Shake, shake -a - mo Shake, sliake-a - nie. Shako, shake- a - me, Shake, shake - a - me. Hi - yah yah, * To be snug alter eaoli verse. -I— —I — tl as thee till I till I If I yah, hi - ;b ilis am am grow yah po - ses. sav - eil, sweet - cr. ear - nal. hi - yah. jiyThe hands should hang- dangling, nearly as high as the breast, and the movements should be ])erfectly simultaneous. Advance three steps and recede three steps. Kepeat this. Then, in the cho- rus, standing in lines, ea€h should turn, respectively 58 K. & L., working' their hands up ami down, as tho' heating" time — 3 beats K., 4 beats L., and vice versa. After each chorus, all, standing, the two lines facing- each other, should rise on their toes and say — H^m! {After performing the dance, then gravely file only R. & L. 3 E. [Enter Milly, dressed as a Shalceress.) MiLLY. I wonder what this'U all come to. Here am I a-shaking and a-hi-yahing with a pack of crazy fools; and Mother Stubbs, she's a-shaking and hi- yahing ; and Ned, he's a-shaking and hi-yahing, dit- to, — and bless me if I know what it all means. 1 ain't certain that I've got the right kink of the el- bow yet, — {workinfi her hands up and doicn, as in the dance); but I do tlie best that I can. Under the circumstances, I think this is the proper thing to do, for our part of the crowd is a shaky h)t, anyway. It it were not for the sake of my i)oor blind darling, I'd shake the community and get out of it in a hur- ry. We're a heap better off than we were in that tilthy street in the city, among the fever-breeding rag^. They're neat, hosjntable people here. If they would stop shaking and hi yahing, they'd be a very decent lot. [Enter Joshua Hicks, who comes to Millg^s side.) Joshua. Friend Millicent, did not the man of medicyne proclaim that Friend Anna would recover her eyesiglit this day? Milly. Yea, P'riend Joshua ; he commanded that we remove the covering at the seventh hour, — even at the going down of the sun. Joshua. Peradventure she and thee may decide to remain with us and become shining lights of our faith. Milly. Peradventure we may [aside) not. H'm ! Joshua. Friend Millicent, how doth thee feel f Milly. I feel. Friend Joshua, I feel very queer, — yea, with a sort of rising in my stomach, like unto 59 doii^li that hath been leavened. H'ni ! Joshua. It is doubtless the ojeration of the spi- rit, Friend Millicent. I pray thee do not keep it down. MiLLY. Yea, Friend Joshua, it is doubtless as theesayestf for it seemeth to ascend — to uplift, as it were, my diaphragm. Joshua. Of a truth tliee is in a goodly way. Let the trouble of spirit abide with thee for a season, and the tui moil will subside. Tiiee will come out bright and clean, — yea, a lamb redeemed. JVliLLY. H'm! xVheady do 1 feel relief, yea, as one to whom a medicyne hath been administered. IFm ! Joshua. J)oes thee still yearn for the pomps and vanityes of the worhl, Friend Millicent f ]MiLLY. ^'ay, Friend Joshua. — \eiiJyi\ot', {aside) not by a ten-foot sermon and a doxolo//^. ' Joshua. Of a truth. Friend Millicent, thy con- version hath been sudden. I welcome thee to tlu^ fold, and will now bestow ui)on thee the embrace of fellowship and the kiss of peace. {Attempts to cm- brace and I'iss her.) MiLLY. {slap2)im/lisfacc) You horrid old goat! You — you santimonious abomination! {throns her honnct at his head) if you try that again, I'll scratch your eyes out ! Joshua, {in confusion) Friend JMillicent ! Friend Millicent! why this violence and agitation? I did but offer thee kindness and brotherly fellowship. MiLLY. Kindness and brotherly fiddlesticks ! — I don't want such fellowship from an old Philander- ing bell-wether like you ! If you don't behave your- self, Pll pull your hair all out. I'll make you see stars in your coffee for six months. Joshua. Consider, maiden ; thou, and she that is dear unto thee, — yea, even the youth, Edward, are ht, I'll raise a swarm of hornets abont your ears, that'll make yon want to take a mule train for Jerusalem by way of Jericho. Joshua, [in consternation) I am penitent, maid- en. I hnmbly do confess that for a moment the spi- rit yielded to thy charms and beguiled me ; for thee is very comely and sweet, — yea, as honey, that hath a sligiit flavor of sharpness. I will see tliat thee and thine are well cared for while abiding" here ; and l will hasten thy departnre to dwell among thy people in the peace of thy proper society. [Exit L. 3 e. MiLLY. There, now ! I've gone and done it, this time ; but I ain't sorry, — I'm glad ! The old he goose! I've fixed him. He won't make love to me again in ;i hurry. Besumes her bonnet) Now I must be a Sha- ker again, {(leiniirelij) Peradventure the spirit will return to me. H'ju ! {Exit K. 3 E. {Entjr, L. 1 E., Sir Hugh Denleigh and West- ing.) West. I have purposely neglected until now, Sir Hugh, from telling you that 1 sent a celebrated occulist to see your / agony, liftiny her hands aloft) Oh ! Heaven ! Heaven I mercy ! mercy ! Sir Hugh. Be comforted, dear. I have another ^reat Joy in store for you. The scoundrel to whonj you gave your hand cannot, with strict legal right, claim you as his wife. Mrs. K. Not married ! Sir Hugh. Yes, married, — and with such legal- ity of form, that no deeper disgrace attaches to you, Anna. Mr. Westing has informed me that, at the trial of the man called Ilochester, and the woman, Marthon, for burglary, the woman made some dam- aging statements against the fellow ; among others, this : that his real name is eTohn Boggson. This fact will release you, my daughter, from all further dan- ger from him arising out of the marriage, for the com])lete annulment of which I have already instruc- ted my solicitor to commence a suit. It seems the fellow, by nature and birth vulgar, had jnide as well as cunning. He .assumed the name of an honorable I'amily to deceive his employers, through which 1 e also entrapped you. Mrs. B. wintt an escape I hc.ve had. I knew nothing even of the trial. Sir Hugh. For that you may thank Mr. West- ing. Through his rei)resentations, (the testimony' of the laborers being snlticient to convict,) .you were not called to the trial ; and his delicacy went so far as to cause your maid and Mrs. Stubbs to be spared. The woman, Marthon, has been rescued by some of her Gypsy band ; the man will leave England on a convict ship which sails to-morrow. MiLLY. I told you so, Ned. I told you so. He a Bochester ! the thieving sneak ! I told you so, Ned. Ned. Ecod ! Missis Milly, moi dear loave, thee did say that, \ei\lyj — h'm! 60 Mother S. T give the joy, friend Anna. Tlieo will go to thj' lioiiie witli gladness. I sliall i)i'ay for thy peace here among these worthy friends, who liave offered nie a home with them. Mks. K. May God forever bless yon, true Chris- tian woman. Take this kiss, and never forget Anna. {Embraces and I'lssea her.) SiK Hugh. It only remains for me, Anna, to thank and reinufierate these good peoj)le, and then to take you and your maid to the old home. Mrs. R. My father, will you also take Ned, my devoted servant, without whose help my sufferings would have been greater f Ned. {laying his hat upon the (/round) There I — dom'd if oi shaak ony moore. MiLLY. {rcmovinfi her bonnet from her head, and laying it vpon Xed\t hat) That is also my remark, Ned, — all except the swearing. Sir Hugh. Yes, Anna; fori thiidc your maid would not care to go without her devoted ba(*helor, if the common signs do not fail. I will take them both into my service. They shall have a cottage of their own for I think they will soon wish to set up independent housekeeping. MiLLY. No. Sir Hugh. After we have seen my })recious Miss Anna once more safe in her father's mansion. Ned and I will emigrate. Mrs. K. Emigrate ! Milly. Would you leave me ? MiLLY. Only for a year, darling. We will go to America. Ned will become so rich that we can re- turn and set up for high life, with servants and liv- eries. Sir Hugh, llich ! and in a year ! MILLY^ Yes, Sir Hugh. Barnum, the showman, will give Ned ten thousand dollars a w^eek, to exhi- bit as the honest man that Diogenes, with his lan- tern, was looking for in the streets of Athens. West, {laiufhing) How could he personate that man, Milly ? Diogenes lived thousands of years ago. MiLLY. O, — that's nothing to Barnum. 67 Joshua, {coming forward) Friend Hugh, I wisli thee joy ; and thee, friend Anna ; and thee, friend Westing. West. My greater Joy is yet to come, if 1 may ventnre to hope that, after a suitable time has ehip- sed, I also may go to Denleigh Hall, — go as a suitor for the hand of the only woman that I have ever loved. {To Mrs. E., taking her hand) Will you bless me with this hope, dear lady,? Mrs. K. {confused and stammering) Mv father, — I 1 Sir Hugh. Pardon her confusion, Mr. Westing, and let me speak tor her. If, at the expiration of one year from this day, yon will come to Denleigli Hall, she shall then answer your question with my approbation. West. The months will be long. Sir Hugh ; but hope will brighten as they pass. If wishes were wings, time would fly swiftly for a waiting lover. Joshua. Friend Hugh, we of this community marry not, neither do we give in marriage ; but we wish well to all persons who deem wedlock necessa ry to their happiness. The youth Westing is honor- able. He will exalt the horn of thy house. I shall grieve for friend Edward, — yea, as for a lamb taken for the slaughter. (MiLLY, aside. He isn't a sanctimonious old Philan- dering bell- weather, though.) Respecting him who has been sentenced to the penal colony, — yea, the man Boggson, let me remind thee of the quaint saying handed down from the time of the ancient sages, — yea, peradventure from the mouth of Diogenes himself: "Thee cannot make a white silk purse out OF A BLACK PIG'S EAR." The Curtain falls. End of the Melodrama. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 971 808 6