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THE
WOMAN OF THE WORLD
A DRAMA
IN
T W 0 ACTS
ADAPTED FROM TIIE POPULAR TALE OF THAT NAME,
PUBLISHED IN u REYNOLDS’S MISCELLANY”
BY
LADY CLARA CAVENDISH
TIIOHAS HAILES I A € Y,
89 . STRAND,
(Opposite Southampton Street, Co etal Garden Market.)
LONDON.
fariA 6
/ Mrs. Cgwle.
Lisa, but he couldn’t: Joanna j Miss Palmer.
was his favourite. /
M A DAME ARUNDELLI (about the eyes there was
a sinister look, no one exactly liked) . Miss Fanny Douglass.
MISS WINCH (a dose of the very strongest vinegar
would give but a feeble idea of this Lady’s
countenance) Miss Rose Ellington.
SUSAN JENKINS (she said she would have John
Butts, and she did) . . . . .Miss Sennett.
JANE SMITH (would have liked an easier place
and better wages) . Miss IIaslewood.
* 2 . 0 .
WOMAN OF TIIE WORLD. 3
PROGRAMME OF SCENERY AND INCIDENTS.
SiB JOHN CLEVELAND’S MANSION,
NEAR YORK.
Broken Vows — a Wedding without a Marriage — Susan’s Idea of Gentility
— John Butts a Brute — .No instead of Yes — a Tender Passion — the
Cuusius.
Monti and Lisa’s Midnight Conference.
“All has happened as you said” — an Evil Mind and a Virtuous heart —
the Anonymous Letter — the Ambitious Girl — Monti shows his power.
IUESSIERIC TRANCE.
The Unwilling Slave and the Stern Master — “ Can you not shield me?
“ I am so unhappy ” — “ Obay me, Joanua.”
Sir John’s Sleeping Chamber.
The Grief-stricken — “ My Darling Joanna ” — Sir John seeks his couch.
THE WILL, and the MIDNIGHT DEINK,
V
“ It is done — Oh, Master, what more ? — Is it a Dream ? —
Oh, horror ! horror ! ”
Joanna Preparing the Poison for Sir John.
mm m tcmh lotot wmm mot ill
REPENTANCE , AND A HEARTS ANGUISH.
A Major “ unattached ” — an Unwelcome Visitor — Catch a Weasel Asleep
— the Major a Man of Gallantry.
^ A NOVEL DUEL.
The wrong Pistol— “ Stop ! I will tell all The Truth elicited — too
late — “ Dear injured Joanna.” — the Interview ends pleasantly — Never
Lose a Chance — the Tailor’s Loy — N T o Money, no Waistcoat!
4
WOMAN or T1IE WORLD.
LIBRARY of Sir John Cleveland’s,
Seeing not believing — tbe Fatal Potion.
I’HS FEARFUL ACCUSATION.
Oli heavens ! it must have been a dream — Sir John still clings to Joanna
—Hopeless Despair— a Fiend’S Machinations— “ Hence Viper ! ”
— the Unexpected B ow.
the triumph of lisa.
Charles Stanmore arrives too late — Remorse of Sir John Cleveland.
The FLIGHT cf JOANNA.
nti did with the Jewels
A Dreadful Discovery — Lisa asserts her Power— the knife uplifted.
The Dead Restored to Life I
“ Ruin — I am Lost” — the coil of a Serpent — Obdurate to the last.
THE HAVINGS of DESPAIR
The wrong righted — Lisa’s intense hate towards Joanna — Susan and
John friends again.
TUB XOOSt OP omv.
FATE of the WOMAN »f the WORLD.
The Costume of this piece is quite modern — only harmonising with the
station and character of the person represented. A reference to the
tale is recommended for the tableaux.
This Drama is the Property of Thomas Haiti- s Laey.
TIIE WOMAN OF TIIE WORLD.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE FIRST. — A Landscape , or Country Road.
Enter Susan Jenkins and John Butts, l.
John. Well, I never did in all my life — no, never! Zooks
and taters ! a wedding broke off at the werry halter.
Susan. Not halter , John, you ain’t got no gentility.
John. No, nor I don’t want to! That ’ere Mr. Charles
Stanmore’s a genteel young man, as I’ve heerd everybody say
— and what’s gentility made him been and gone and do? Gen-
tility be — *
Susan. John, recollect where you is —
John. So I does — for if I didn’t — oh, zooks and taters !
Susan. Sertintly , John, I never knew such conduct — ha
didn’t arrive at the minster till a good deal after the time
fixed for the ceremonious solemnity.
John. Solemnnentity ! What’s that?
Susan. Hymeneral marriage, you gaby.
John. Oh, why don’t you talk good English, as I does — but
1 forgot, you can’t, ’cause you picked up fine notions when
you was in service in Lunnun.
Susan. You are perfectly right, John. Well, as I was a
saying — Mr. Charles Stanmore walks u}*. to the altar, looking
as pale as a parsnip ; and when the reverend offishonsatiuq
minister says —
John. Zooks and taters ! there you goes agin ! Why don’t
’ee speak proper, and say parson ?
Susan. Because it’s a vulgarity. Well, and when the
minister says —
John. ’Ees, I know ! “Wilt thou ha’ this young ’ooman
for thy lawful husband — ”
Susan. Wife, booby ! Then Mr. Stanmore roars out like
thunder — “No!” and rushes, like an insane maniac, out of
the minster.
WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 1 .
John. If I’d a been there, I’d a larrupped ’un, wouldn’t I
just — I believe you ! Worms and cauliflowers !
Susan. And poor Miss Joanna was brought home more dead
than alive — and as for her uncle, Sir John Cleveland —
J ohn. Ah ! I s’pose he’s almost ivuss, for everybody knows
he docitses on Miss Joanna— and no wonder, for she is
kindest, the prettiest, the most amiablest —
Susan. Present company, of course, excepted.
John. Eh! pitchforks and artichokes! present company
prettier than Miss Joanna ? Which on us ? I’m sure it beaut
you, and — he, he, he ! I don’t think it be I.
Susan. John Butts, you are a brute.
John. No, I beant ! I be’s a respectable farmer, a tenant of
Sir John Cleveland, what pays him reglarly — measter of the
Plolly Tree Farm, Dyke’s Hollow ; and, what’s more, my own
measter ; seeing as how I ain’t got no wife.
Susan. More shame for you, John. Do you know I have
often thought that I should make a capital wife for a farmer.
John. Perhaps you might, if you brought a little capital
into the cousarn — he, he, he !
Susan. Oh ! I ain’t without my little savings, bless you !
John. Well, and bless you, Susan, if that be the case. But
I am afeard you lia’ gotten too high notions for I, and that my
grammar, as you calls it, won’t suit you.
Susan. Oh, but I could elewate you up to my spear you
know. But if we should ever go to church together, John
Butts, you wont be like Mr. Stanmore, and shout u no” when
you ought to say u yes.”
John. No, I’ll say yes, depend on’t, if ever we come to that.
Oh, zooks and taters ! here 1 have left my farm, to come to Sir
John Cleveland’s to have a jollification, ’cause Miss Joanna was
going to be married ; and now there ain’t to be no wedding,
and — oh, dear ! oh, dear ! my eyes feels as if I’d been working
in an ingun field.
Susan. John, I ai X a judge of the tender passion.
John. What sort of a passion is that?
Susan. Love, John.
John. Love! John ! Oh, yes, wench, you may love John,
if you like — he, he, he !
Susan. Well, perhaps I will, John — but I was going to say,
that I am certain Mr. Stanmore loves Miss Joanna, and I can’t
make out why he — and, do you know, John, I can t help think-
ing that Miss Joanna’s cousin —
John. Miss Lisa Selby ? Ah ! I dont like her a morsel.
Susan. Nor I, John — there is something sinister —
John. What be a sinister?
Sc. 2.
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
9
Susan. Something evil — something —
John. Oh! that be a sinister ? What a fine thing it is to
have laming ! But — ( crosses r.) wheel barrows and vegetable
marrows ! i shan’t get home to-night ! Come along, girl, do ! e !
Exeuut R.
SCENE SECOND. — A Handsome Chamber, (: 2nd grooves ) —
half dark.
Enter Lisa Selby, l. 2 e.
Lisa. So, Joanna's hopes are wrecked, her happiness for
ever blighted, and I am glad on’t ! I rejoice, for I have ever
hated her. She has stood between me and the fortune for
which I pine. She has had suitors, but no one wdiispered tales
of love into my ear, that would so willingly have listened. She
has ever been the favourite of our uncle. Kind has he ever been
to me, but he has worshipped her ; and wherefore? Has she
greater beauty ? no — although she is as the lily, and I of the
raven hue ; and for her disposition, ’tis u most amaible,” they
say — but what of that ! all that she really is, have I not seemed f
and so well, that who could detect the counterfeit? Oh, it was
a lucky fortune that made me acquainted with this Italian — this
Monti, astrologer and mesmerist ! so great his power — were
my soul less dauntless than it is, ’twould terrify me ; so sudden
oil in his appearence that it looks like magic ; and I sometimes
deem that he is more or less than human. (Monti appears at
back , l., and comes quietly forward — house clock strikes twelve)
It is midnight —the hour at which he promised to be here.
Monti, (by her side) And he is here, Lisa — he is here, (she
turns and faces hi.n — Music — Tableau. \_See Reynolds's Mis-
cellany, No. 524. u Monti and Lisa’s midnight conference.”]
Lisa. Thanks! thanks! all has happened as you said it
would ; Charles Stanmore has not married Joanna ! But by
what means —
Monti. Simple, and, (smiling) human ; have no doubt of
that. I am no demon, no mephistopholes ! but I am an astro-
loger, can re ad men’s hearts, and divine somewhat of the future.
I am a mesmerist, and when I meet a fitting subject, what I will
must be obeyed.
Lisa. But can you not tell me of —
Monti. Oh, yes ; you know that Joanna was formerly perse-
cuted by the addresses of an adventurer who calls himself
Major Edmonds, and that Charles Stanmore was, by your
innuendoes, made greatly jealous of this Major —
Lisa. Yes, yes — well ?
10
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Act 1.
Monti. An anonymous letter to the major told him that,
last night, Joanna would be in the cloister of York Minster.
Lisa. I know that — ’twas written by me, and it w r as at my
urgent entreaty, plausibly urged — that Joanna went thither,
that she might hear from your lips the fate that was in store for
me, her dear cousin ; for she was made to believe that only to
her could that fate be revealed ; and so, reluctantly, she went.
Monti. And there found herself suddenly clasped within the
arms of Major Edmunds — and that embrace was witnessed by
Charles St-anmore ; for another anonymous letter had warned
him of that appointment, ha, ha, ha! {laughing quietly') and the
night before his bridal, too ! ha, ha, ha ! what need of devilry,
when so much can, by human means, so easily be accomplished,
while human nature remains so blindly credulous ?
Lisa. True ! true!
Monti. Listen! Lisa, you are ambitious, you pant for
pleasure, wealth, adulation ! you must riot amidst the world’s
extravagance — would be envied for the luxury of your state —
Lisa. Oh ! do not look so closely into my heart.
Monti. Wherefore not, since lean promise all that for which
you sigh? It may be that the burning sun of India, under
which you were born, has implanted in your mind those feelings.
I can help you to your wishes, and hereafter you must help me.
Lisa. What, what is it that you require I should do for you ?
Monti. Mere trifles ! I shall not ask your heart, rest assured
of that. Your uncle, Sir John Cleveland, does not love you as
he loves Joanna, your cousin.
Lisa. I know it.
Monti. Yet why should he not ? Sisters to him were both
your mothers, and both of you are orphans who were in
infancy confided to his care.
Lisa. Speak not of the past — ’tis of the future that I would
hear.
Monti. Well, Sir John has made his will.
Lisa. Ah !
Monti. I have seen it. He has left three hnndred a-year
to you, and to Joanna the whole of his fortune. That fortune
is much larger than he is aware of, from circumstances with
which I need not trouble you ; and fortune, you know, is
power.
Lisa. It is !
Monti. Sir John will drive Joanna from his home and house
with ignominy ! or rather, she will go, feeling that it would be
ignominy to stay — a new will can then be made in your favour
— and then — then Sir John will die.
Lisa. Drive Joanna hence ! he idolizes her — doats upon her.
1 1 is impossible !
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
11
Sc. 2.
Monti. I have said it ! but ere we proceed further, speak !
Have you any compunctions that may make you pause?
Joanna is fair, gentle, virtuous, and single-minded ! Can you
see her consigned to poverty — to disgrace — perhaps to destitu-
tion and despair ?
Lisa. I hate her ! and would sweep her from my path.
Monti. Enough ! call her hither.
Lisa. And you —
Monti. You will presently see ! call her hither.
(Music . — Lisa goes off, r., Monti looks after her with a
smile of triumph — then slowly retreats off, l. u. e.
Re-enter Lisa, conducting Joanna, r.
Joanna. Why, Lisa, have you brought me from my room ?
Lisa. My poor, dear Joanna! (kisses her on the cheel —
adde) She did not return that kiss ! . in f. opens — Joanna enters,
passes round screen — goes to and kneels at cabinet. At that
moment Monti appears at door — enters and takes his stand
behind screen, with a sardonic smile — Joanna pulls out third
draw — Sir John suddenly awakes, looks up, and sees her.
Sir J. (in a whisper) Heavens ! what is this ?
(Joanna brings out will, unfolds, looks over it, refolds it,
puts it back, and closes drawer — Monti makes passes — she
approaches the table and pours the contents of the phial into
B
14 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 1.
the jug — tableau, [from No. 525 — “ Joanna Preparing the
Poison.”
Joanna, (in a whisper ) It is done ! oh, master, what more?
Monti. Leave the^ bottle, and come away — to your chamber
— quickly !
(retreats through door , c. waving his hands — Joanna glides
off following him — music piano has continued through all
the above — it now becomes forte , about four bar , as Sir
John starts from the couch .
Sir J. It was no dream — it was too surely her. (snatching
phial from table) Here is the fatal proof. Joanna ! Joanna !
Oh, powers of mercy ! (music) Help, there — help !
He staggers back and sinks on chair — Dr. Meadows enters at
door , c., and hurries to him — tableau.
SCENE FOURTH. — Front Chamber — table puts on at side, r.
Enter Charles Stanmore, r.
Charles, (as he enters) Tell Major Edmunds I will await
him here. Oh ! fool that I was not to have thought of this
Major Edmunds ! not to have sought him ere casting from me
my very life — my whole heart’s treasure — my only hope. Oh,
Joanna! innocent or guilty, I love thee still — must ever love
thee ! and thou art lost to me for ever. Oh ! how have I been
fooled to my destruction — and now all is lost, for how is it
possible that she should ever forgive me ? But I will have the
truth from this Major Edmunds, though I should carve it from
his heart. Let him beware how he trifles with me, for I am a
desperate man.
Major Edmonds enters , r., without coat or ivaistcoat — large
beard, moustache, and whiskers — a hair brush in each hand.
Major, (as he enters) So, you scoundrel, you have come at
last ! (suddenly seeing Charles, and starting) Eh ? I — I — beg
pardon, Mr. Stanmore, I — I weally thought that it — it was
my wascally tailor. The fact is — I — I am waiting for a new
waistcoat — and I am dwessing for a pawty — ladies ! Hem ! in
that case, you know, as I am busy, you will, of course, excuse
me — hem ! (aside) He looks vewy odd ! I don’t at all like him.
(aloud) Good day! Mr. Stanmore — any other time, (aside)
I must keep my eye on him. Hem ! catch a weazel asleep !
stwike me cautious.
Sc. 4. WOMAN OF THE WORLD. 15
Charles. Major Edmunds, I must, and will have some few
words with you.
Major, (rather nervous ) Eh? what? eh? eh? do — do
you want to pick a quarwell with me ? It won’t do, demme !
this is not one of my fighting days. Catch a weazel asleep !
Charles. Major, — since Major you are pleased to term
yourself — blustering with me will avail you nothing ; and I
command your to tell me honestly ^and truly, how and under
what circumstances you met Miss Joanna Cleveland in the
Aisle of York Minster ?
Major. Oh, ah, yes! I dare say ! catch a weazel asleep !
stwike me confidential ! Sir, I am not only a man of gallantwy,
I am a man of honour ! The women doat on Jack Edmunds,
sir. I am considered good-looking, and they are susceptible ;
and now, sir, as there are sevewal charming gals waiting for
my agweeable society, I must finish my toilet, and you weally
must go. Demme !
Charles. Then, Major, since you leave me no other course,
here are pistols. ( producing them) and we will fight — here !
Major. In this woom ? in an hotel — without seconds ? it
would be murder ?
Charles.' Should you kill me, Major, I will excuse you.
Major. Pwobably — but if you kill me , I’m dem’d if I’ll
excuse you — I w T on’t be killed — catch a weazel — (C harles
places pistols on table) Murder !
Charles. Now, sir, one moment and —
Major. Exactly ! ( suddenly snatching up one of the pistols)
Now, stir a step and — I don’t say that I’ll blow your bwainsout,
but, ’pon my soul, I’ll make a hole in your head ! Don’t attempt
to touch the other pistol, or I fire ! Thought to nibble Jack
Edmunds, eh ? ha, ha, catch a weazel asleep. Stwike me downy.
Charles. One moment! the form of duel I was about to
fight with you was just this. I intended to throw a handker-
chief over those pistols, that you might take your choice, for but
one of them is loaded ! So, now pull the trigger of the one you
hold — if ’tis charged, so much the better for you ; if otherwise
— see ! I secure this, ( taking pistol from table) and the next
instant you are a dea 1 man.
Major. ( staggering ) Bless me ! ah ! How faint I feel ! oh,
oh ! catch a weazel asleep and — wegularly done ! — strike me un-
comfortable ! Oh, lord ! do point your dem’d pistol the other
way, it may be the loaded one you know. See, I put mine
down, (does so) Phew ! it has made me so hot ! do’nt be dem’d
absurd — I’ll take you into confidence — I will tell you all, I will
indeed. Stwike me communicative !
Charles. Quick, then !
16 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 1.
MajoIi. I had no appointment at all with Miss Cleveland.
Charles. Wretch !
Major. I know I am, I am a wetcli — the women all say
so — but I can’t help it ; I take after my father. It was a note
I got, that —
Charles. Shew me that note, instantly! (pointing pistol)
Major. ( hurriedly ransacking drawer of table) This is it —
no it isn’t. Now I’ve got it — no, I haven’t.
Charles. Quick, sir !
Major.' (running to Charles, and offering paper) Here it is
— no. I beg your pawdon — this is my tailor’s account, (runs
back and rummages drawer , then returns to Charles) There,
Sir, (offering paper) that’s it — no — excuse me, it’s my washing
bill, (goes back to drawer , then runs with note to Charles)
That, that’s it ! Must take care of my washing bill ; only one
and ninepence — but it isn’t paid.
Charles, (having glanced over note) Major Edmunds, I do
not blame you so much as I did.
Major. Of couwse not ; but I blame you, for coming here and
twying to fwighten me ! Luckily, I’m not easily intimidated —
— strike me cowageous !
Charles. Do you know who wrote this note?
Major. Not Miss Joanna — certainly not ; and that is all
you must ask me to-day.
Charles. Oh, what infamy ! It is a strange suspicion that
hashes across my mind — but no, it would be too atrocious.
Oh ! what an egregious ass I have shown myself! And dear —
injured Joanna ! oh ! how she must loathe me now. (going, R.)
Major. Good evening, Mr. Stan more !
Charles. Good evening ! I shall retain this note.
Major. Oh, certainly. Hem ! dear me, Mr. Stanmore, do
you happen to have such a thing as a soveweign in your pocket ?
Charles. There are two. ( throws them on table, and goes off,~R.
Major. Yewy good ! (taking them up) His visit has ended
more pleasantly than I expected. Never lose a chance of
lbow owing a twifle. Catch a weazel asleep, and —
Enter Boy, r.
Halloa ? have you brought my waistcoat?
Boy. No ! master says you must pay your bill, or else he’ll
see you jolly well blowed, before you get it!
Major. Your master is a wuffian ! but here — (giving money)
take him this soverweign on account, and instantly bwing me
my waistcoat.
Boy. Yes, I’ll take him the money, and he’ll keep it ; but you
\von’t get no waistcoat, on no account whatever.
Major. Why, you eighteenth part of a man, I’ll murder you l
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
17
Sc. 5.
Boy. Oh, yes, catch a weazel asleep, you know.
Music — Major Edmunds chases Boy, icho after a run , slips
down , crawls between the Major’s legs, and upsets him —
Boy bolts off — Major sci'ambles up and follows , shouting .
Major. My waistcoat! I want my v r aistcoat! catch a
weazel —
SCENE FIFTH. — Library at Sir John Cleveland's .
Sir John discovered , in large easy chair , c., he is ill, and care-
worn — Dr. Meadows standing near him , door l. u. e.
Sir. J. Oh, heaven help me ! this is terrible ! But are you
sure, doctor, are you sure ?
Dr. M. Too certain, my friend. You remember that you
asked me for some poison to give Carlos, your poor old spaniel,
to put it out of the pain it has so long suffered?
Sir J. ( faintly ) Yes, yes — and —
Dr. M. I gave the dog a little of your night drink from the
glass in which you saw her pour the poison — a very little !
then a sharp convulsion passed through its body, and it was
dead.
Sir J. Oh, Heaven help me ! and she — J oarina, Joanna — my
owm dear one — she whom I loved so well — the child of my
heart ! Heaven have mercy upon me ! Oh, Joanna —
Joanna !
Enter Lisa Selby, r.
Lisa. Uncle, what is it ? what has happened ! why do you
mention dear Joanna’s name with such grief? Is she ill? let
me at once fly to her! poor Joanna !
Sir J. Lisa, I am very unhappy ; and when I tell you —
Dr. M. Nothing, Sir John. ( aside to him) What is to be
done can be done by you and me ! precious secrets keep best
in the fewest hearts.
Sir J. I believe you are right, my dear doctor. Go to your
room, Lisa, and think nothing more of it — go, go.
Lisa. Adieu, dear uncle ; but pray let me know if poor
Joanna should be worse. ( aside ) Curse the officious meddler.
Exit , r.
Sir J. Lisa has a good heart — I see it plainly now. Doctor,
I have been unjust to her.
Dr. M. Umph! perhaps!
Sir J. I have liked her but little —
Dr. M. And I have liked her not at all ; and yet I know
not why ; but even now there is something that —
18
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Act 1.
Enter Joanna, r. — Sir John starts to Ms feet and gazes on
her trembling.
Joanna. Dear uncle, you are not well !
Dr. M. And you, Joanna — how pale you are !
Joanna. It may be, for I am weak and suffering; but I
shall soon be better, dear uncle, if you will not grieve.
Sir J. Great Heaven ! Oh, it must have been a dream, or
I am mad. It is not possible — my own darling Joanna, that I
for so many years doated on — that I have ever kept next my
heart ! no, no ! Oh, anything but that — it is not in nature —
no, no, doctor, I will not believe it though the world said —
Oh, Heaven help me — I shall go quite mad.
( sinks sobbing into chair.
Joanna. Dear uncle, I see it but too plainly — you cannot
rest for the thought of that dreadful moment at the Cathedral,
when he, whom I was to wed and to love, scorned and rejected
me ; but time will soothe even that sorrow. I suffer now.
Heaven knows I do ; but I will stay with you, and we will be
happy in loving each other. I will be to you as a loving child,
and you to me as a dear father, to whom I will owe all of joy
the world can give me.
Sir J. ( choking with emotion) Take her away — oh, take her
away.
Joanna. Uncle ! you cast me from you!
Sir J. No, no — Heaven help me, no. To my arms — to my
arms — to my heart, my dear child. I will mistrust my senses
— I will believe my eyes have played me false — I love you
still ! kill me — do as you please — I cannot help loving you
ever —
J oanna. Dear uncle !
(about to embrace him — Dr. Meadows interposes.
Dr. M. No, this must not be — it is exoneration — it is justifi-
cation that is wanted — not weakness. (Sir John sinks into
chair)
J oanna. What, oh, what is it that you mean, dear sir ?
Dr. M. Old friend, you must be firm now, and act as doth
become a man. Go, Joanna, go !
Joanna. Oh, no no ; surely my place is here if my dear
uncle is ill ! I know not the meaning of all that I see and hear
— you both speak in riddles to me ; but that cannot change my
affection for my dear uncle, and I will stay with him.
(clinging to Sir John.
Sir J. ( rising and shaking her off) Fiend ! viper ! that. I
have nourished in my bosom ! Monster ! that with the face of
an angel conceals the heart of a murderess ! I cast you from
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
1 !)
Sc. 5.
me — you abide not longer beneath this roof. You shall not
starve, for that would be to tempt you to commit more crime ;
you are my dear sister’s child, and I cannot forget that I did
love you — too much — oh, too much I loved you. Hence —
hence ! and carry with you the consciousness that you have
lost all you would have grasped at by my murder.
Joanna. ( aghast ) Uncle!
Sir J. Poisoner! go, go! I cast you for ever from me.
Heaven will perhaps have mercy on me, and soon take me from
a world I have lost all hope in. May He, too, forgive you!
Why did you do this dreadful deed ? Oh, my poor heart and
brain ! go, go, viper and wretch — hence, and carry with you
your shame and your disgrace. ( sinks into chair ) A fiend has
taken the likeness of my child. Go, go !
Joanna. Is it a dream, or is he mad? Yes, I will go — I
will go! ( casts a tender and sorrowful look on Sir John, and
is slowly going , r,)
Dr. M. Joanna, I can but pity you! Say — oh, say' that
you repent — that you are penitent.
Joanna. ( bewildered ) Penitent ! repent !
Dr. M. Yes ; do no harden your heart. Own that you
sought to poison your uncle — that so you might render quickly
effective the will in which you saw he had left you nearly all !
own that all this results from a criminal connection with Major
Edmunds — own it all, and seek mercy an forgiveness — here and
hereafter.
Joanna. Mercy — mercy ! Oh, you are unmerciful— jrou
seek to drive me mad. A\ r hat have I to do with wills and
poisonings ? Heaven help me, and attest my innocence, for as
I live and breathe, I swear I know not what you mean.
Dr. M. This is too much !
Sir J. ( wildly ) I saw you, and had rather you had plucked
out my poor old eyes than shown them such a sight. It kills ma
even to look upon you ! Go, wretch — go from me at once and
for ever.
Joanna. I am innocent of all that is alleged against me —
the time will probably come when you, uncle, will find that it
is so ! Heaven send that it may not be too late. ( suddenly
snatches Sir J ohn’s han d, kisses it) Farewell ! Heaven bless
you, uncle, for all your past goodness to me — farewell I
Exit, r.
Dr. M. Oh, surely innocence only could look like that ; and
yet — Sir John — Sir John ! ( going to him) On your soul — on
all your hopes in Heaven, are you certain you saw her place tka
poison in your drink ?
20 WOMAN OF THE WOULD. Act 1.
Sir J. On my soul — yes ! as I hope for Heaven — yes ! ( thun-
der heard — wind and rain ) Hark ! Heaven itself is speaking
now against her !
Dr. M. It is a fearful night !
Charles Stanmore hurries on , l. u. e.
Mr. Stanmore !
Sir J. Ila! ’tis he has been the cause of all. ( rising ) Come
you to gloat upon the ruin you have made ?
Charles. No — oh, no — Joanna is innocent ! it was on
an errand of kindness that she went that night to the
Cathedral. I have got the truth from that man, Edmunds.
She is as true as light ! my eyes played me false ! for did I not
see her in the Cathedral with that man ? and yet she is inno-
cent.
Sir J. Ah ! if — if it could be ! Doctor, tell him all —
Dr. M. (to Charles) On a solemn promise of secrecy —
Charles. I swear ; but —
Dr. M. Listen ! (takes him a little up , and speaks to him )
Sir J. Oh, good Heaven ! If, after all, it were possible that
she is innocent ! the joy of it would more surely kill me than
the agony I now endure. Oh, how gladly could I die if it were
proved that she is still worthy of my love, (sits)
Charles, (coming forward) No, no, it is not— and it
cannot — ’tis most horrible ; but even this is susceptible of some
explanation. What, if her brain disordered, her spirits sunk,
she arose in her sleep, and did this, not knowing her own
acts ?
Dr, M. (exclaiming) Ah! that is a new light— fool that I
was not to think of that !
Sir J. (starting to his feet) My child! my Joanna! my
darling ! (sobbing) I must — I will see her again — my innocent
—my own dove — my beautiful! (is hurrying of] Out is stayed
by Dr. Meadows — thunder , wind, and rain) Let me go ! you
shall not hold me ! let me go ! Joanna — Joanna— my love — my
own dear Joanna !
Enter Lisa, r.
Lisa. She has gone — has fled from the house.
(Sir J ohn is transfixed.
Charles. Oh, Heaven ! and on such a night as this ! instant
pursuit —
Sir J. She has gone to death, I know — I feel it — she could
not survive the loss of her uncle’s love. Joanna, my darling —
my only hope on earth — I have destroyed thee !
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
21
Sc. 5.
(Music — sinks despairingly on his knees , c. — D r. Meadows
hurries to him — Stanmore stands despairingly , l. — Monti
suddenly appears at hack , /rom l. i). e., omt/ he and Lisa
exchange glances of triumph — thunder , wind, and rain —
music a?id tableau .
END OF ACT THE FIRST.
ACT SECOND.
SCENE FIRST. — London — an Apartment at Lady Bedale's.
(2nd grooves .)
Enter Lisa and Monti, l.
Monti. So, Lisa, you are now in London, at the house of
Lady Bedale.
Lisa. Yes ! By your advice, I persuaded my uncle to permit
me to come to London, that I might search for poor Joanna.
Monti. That search shall be prosecuted by me, and I will
find her, doubt not, for that she is in London, I am well con-
vinced ; and ’tis necessary to our schemes that she should ba
within my power.
Lisa. Oh, yes — for she found, I could no longer remain here.
Monti. Could not live that gay — that joyous, aristocratic
life for which you have dared so much.
Lisa. Ay, truly ; and when revelling amidst luxury and
splendour, I shall be well repaid for all that in my sin I have
suffered — shall be happy, shall I not ?
Monti, (smiling sarcastically') Oh, certainly !
Lisa. Oh, I will at once commence a life of wild and glorious
excitement. You assure me I have the means !
Monti. Oh, yes, if you have not neglected the credentials
with which I bade you furnish yourself ?
Lisa. I have them all. First a letter to this Lady Bedale.
Sir John’s sister-in-law, whom ’tis long since he saw, and
whom he greatly dislikes — you have fully instructed me respect-
ing her — and I shall well know how to act when we encounter.
Monti. Good! goon!
Lisa. Next a letter to one Mr. Croker, Sir John’s town
solicitor, who is to advise me and aid in the search for
Joanna.
22 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 2.
Monti. That letter you will not deliver — that letter would
ruin our every hope.
Lisa. I understand that ; and lastly —
Monti. Lastly, I hope you prevailed on Sir John, as I
directed, to afford you means of drawing on his banker for
whatever sums you might need.
Lisa. Yes, I have here an authorisation to Messrs. Coutts to
honour all drafts signed by Lisa Selby.
Monti. Good ; and that paper places four hundred and
twenty thousand pounds at your entire disposal.
Lisa, (amazed and gasping) Four hundred and —
Monti. Your uncle, Sir John Cleveland, owing to having
had two large West Indian Estates left to him, and a manor in
Rutlandshire worth thirty thousand a-year, is one of the richest
commoners in England.
Lisa. And that enormous sum then may be mine ?
Monti. Absolutely ! You will be a princess — a queen —
every pleasure that wealth can purchase will be yours — every
enjoyment will you know that sense can find ; if you will
but be what you must be, in order thoroughly to enjoy what
is offered to you — if, in short, you will be —
Lisa. What — what?
Monti. A Woman of the World !
Lisa. I will — I will ! I feel that I was born for joy — for
power — I — I — oh, my brain grows dizzy at the mere thought of
such delight.
Monti. What I promised I have so far accomplished — your
rival is swept from your path — now ’tis your turn to act. Pre-
pare yourself for the glorious part you have to play.
Lisa. And — and you — what am I to repay you for all this
aid — for all this brightening future ?
Monti. Oh, I shall want some money ; and further, you
must obtain, by any means, all the valuable jewels you can
possibly become possessed of, and give them into my keeping
for four-and- twenty hours only — at the end of which time they
shall be returned to you.
Lisa. Really ?
Monti. Really and intact, as I receive them.
Lisa. And your purpose with them ! I cannot understand —
Monti. It is not necessary that you should — nor need you
fear — I but want them that I may work certain spells.
Lisa. It is a disagreeable and a difficult command that you
have given me.
Monti. But one which you must perforce obey. I havp
served you hitherto ; but remember, if need be, I am your
master.
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
25
Sc. 1.
Lisa. Yes, yes, I know and tremble at the knowledge.
Monti. Conform to my wishes, and you have naught to fear.
Jewellers will send their stores to be approved by so wealthy a
lady — you will have, too, jewelled friends ; borrow, or if no
other way presents itself, steal— anything rather than dare to
disobey my commands.
Lisa. What say you ?
Monti. It is not, surely, much that I ask in return for th®
wealth and splendour with which I have furnished you.
Lisa. I will do as you wish.
Monti. I am sure of it. You know where I may be found,
should you desire to see, or send for me ; and so, for awhile,
adieu ! Lady Bedale will presently be with you, and so I leave
you. Fear nothing — that which I undertake, I carry out. I
can divine the future — can read it as in a glass — and I predict
for you a bright and glorious career.
Lisa. But — but the end of all this enjoyment — the end — is
there nothing to dread then ?
Monti. The end will be dust — that will be the end of you —
of me — and of all that live and breathe in the great world ; but
until that end comes, let us enjoy the cup of happiness that
fortune offers to our lips. Farewell! Music . — Exit, l.
Lisa. A new career has commenced for me, and at every
hazard, I will pursue it.
Enter Lady Bedale, r.
I presume that I have the honour to address the Countess of
Bedale ? (Lady Bedale slightly hows ) This note from Sir
J ohn Cleveland will explain the cause of my presence here.
Lady B. ( taking note ) Oh, indeed ! £ray sit down ( holding
note in right hand , and pointing to chair with left hand. Music
— tableau. [No. 521, “ Lisa visits the Countess of Bedale.”]
a moment. ( putting glass her eye and glancing over note ) Ah,
w r ell — really — cool ; but I have no further expectations from
Sir John, and do not see why I should be burthened with his
niece.
Lisa. Polite — very.
Lady B. Therefore, Miss — a — a — Miss —
Lisa. Selby!
Lady B. Miss Wigby — you see —
Lisa. Selby 1
Lady B. Ah, exactly !
Lisa. I do not ask much of you, madam — ( smiling ) a hom®
with you, and such introductions as may make a season in London
WOMAN or THE WORLD.
24
Act 2.
agreeaable to me ; your Ladyship’s rank, I presume, opens for
you those circles in which I wish to move ?
Lady B. What?
Lisa. And so, madam, I throw myself entirely upon you,
for your protection, advice — assistance —
Lady B. Well, upon my word, Miss Swilsby —
Lisa. Selby!
Lady B. Selby — precisely — it seems that I must be exces-
sively plain —
Lisa. Oh, you are, indeed, madam — remarkably plain.
Lady B. ( staggering back) Ah ! ah !
Lisa. You are ungrateful ! for you have been under great
obligations to Sir John ; but no matter, I am resolved to stay
here ; I like you too well to part with you — you have no grati-
tude — no attachment. You are a countess, and you are poor.
Lady B. Well I never— no — in all my life I never did —
hark’ye, Miss Jigby !
Lisa. Selby !
Lady B. Well, Wigby — you are the most audacious — but
I’ll soon settle this. ( calling ) Jane! run for a policeman.
Lisa. Do not be silly, madam, for I intend to stay, and pay
you.
Lady. B. Pay me, Miss Slugsby ! I hate the very name of
pay ! I never pay anybody.
Lisa, (slowly) At my disposal I have four hundred thousand
pounds !
Lady Bedale utters a scream of astonishment , staggers back,
and falls on sofa.
Enter Jane, r.
Jane. Did you call, my lady?
Lady B. Get out!
( starts suddenly to her feet , snatching up sofa pillow and throws
it at Jane’s head , who runs off screaming, r.
and you have — really —
Lisa. Four hundred thousand pounds ; which I fondly hoped
the Countess of Bedale would have helped a poor country girl
to expend, by introducing her to the ranks of fashion and
extravagance.
Lady B. ( rushing to Lisa, and embracing her) Oh ! my dear,
my beautiful niece ! Four hundred thousand pounds ! why I
will make you the centre of fashion — your name shall be on
every lip ! Your beauty — my dear, you really are good look-
ing—
Lisa. ( smiling ) Yes, I have four hundred thousand charms.
Aid me to attain my wdshes, and you shall be no longer poor
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Sc. 2.
25
Lady Bedale. To-morrow, to begin with, I will give you a
cheque for five thousand pounds.
Lady B. ( embracing Lisa again ) Oh, you blessed angel !
Miss Selby, my love, I adore you ! I can, and will help you
to all you desire ; and if in London society, you wish to be
considered the arbitress of fashion — as the — the star of society
— I can shew you how to be so.
Lisa. Good ! I would taste of every enjoyment.
Lady B. ,You seek pleasure?
Lisa. Ay, and power.
Lady B. But you must have no nonsensical scruples.
Lisa. Do not fear me.
Lady B. You must be, in short —
Lisa. A thorough Woman of the World — I will ! Exeunt r.
SCENE SECOND — Madame Arundellis Sanctum. Large,
window in flat , looking on to street — (3rd grooves) — table,
chairs ,
Madame Arundelli discovered seated, and drinking from wine
glass , a decanter of brandy beside her. Enter Miss Winch, r.
Madame A. ( starts , and is nearly choked) Eh — what's that ?
how you made me jump — and the bran — hem ! the cordial has
gone the wrong way. I felt so weak and faint, Winch, that I was
obliged to take a little of my reviving cordial.
Miss W. ( aside ) Brandy, I know, (aloud) Yes, mum, you
is delicate — you looks so ; but I came to say, mum, that there
is a great commotion in the work-room ; the girls say they are
overworked and underpaid.
Madame A. (rising) Ungrateful hussies ! and we have a
housefull of work ! Oh, who would be a fashionable milliner?
Overworked, indeed! Why, in the very busiest season I never
keep them at it, more than nineteen hours, out of the twenty-
four — and at present they are only working eighteen hours —
and underpaid, forsooth ! don’t I allow them the liberal sum of
a shilling a day ? What would the ungrateful wretches have ?
Miss W. Very true, mum. Ah, it’s a wicked world ! there’s
that girl, Simpson, who is continually presuming to say that
she is very ill, has this morning, already, mum — had the
outrageous impudence to faint away three times — actually
went right off, over her work, mum.
Madame A. To faint away in working hours ! Never
heard of such audacity in all my life ! her time belongs to me,
C
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
26
Act 2.
and it’s a robbery ! Why couldn’t the liussey wait till she got
home ? This won’t do, Winch !
Miss W. No, mum — it won’t.
Madame A. Bundle her off — lead her down stairs, and place
her in the street — no doubt she will get home somehow ; that
is, if she has got a home to go to ; if not, there is the work-
house, and other benevolent institutions — only make haste and
get her out of the house, or she may pretend to be worse, and
I may be put to the expense of a cab ; and that wouldn’t do,
for I know she comes about four miles to work.
Miss, W. And, of course, she ain’t to have none of her day’s
wages — she ain’t been here this morning above seven hours.
Madame A. Umph ! not half a day ! Well, never mind, let
her have sixpence — I never can help being generous.
Miss W. ( going ) No, that you can’t, mum.
Madame A. Stay, Winch ; has my niece risen yet ?
Miss AY. Yes, mum. And there’s another noble act oi
yours — to give a shelter to the poor, discarded, houseless
tiling — ah ! you are too good for this Avorld !
Madame A. I hope not, Winch, for I am not tired of it yet,
though mine is a harrassing life, and I often need a little
eomfort.
Miss AY. (aside) Brandy — hem ! (aloud) but you are rich
and —
Madame A. Yes, a good and virtuous life ever meets w T ith
its reward. I should not, though, have been burthened with a
niece I never saw before in all my life, but a glance shewed me
that the girl is very pretty, and the Duke of Endell is very
liberal — he will provide handsomely for her, and it is our
duty, you know, to do our best for our relations — so if she
should take his fancy —
Miss AY. lie wiii be certain, mum, to reward you well.
Madame A. I have never found him niggardly, and I shall
n®t fail to reward you, AVinch.
Miss AY. Thank you, mum !
Madame A. It is a duty one owes to oneself to neglect no
honest means of adding to one’s little store ; but honestly, of
course, always honestly and properly.
Miss AA r . Of course mum, not otherwise — certainly not, mum.
Madame A. And now send my niece to me, Winch.
Mi ss AY. (going) Yes, mum !
Madam e A. And, AAdnch?
Miss A\ r . (returning) Mum?
Madame A. Recollect, that to my niece, the Duke of Ended
will be my cousin — Cousin Thompson. The girl is fresh from
the country, and might, perhaps, prove a little squeamish.
Sc. 2.
WOMAN OF TIIE WORLD.
27
Miss W. I shall remember, mum. Exit l.
Madame A. Stop! let me put away this bran — hem! my
cordial ! ( does so) The duke will presently be here, and —
Enter Joanna, l. — she is handsomely dressed.
Well, Joanna — that, you tell me, is your name, you are look-
ing charmingly this morning.
Joanna. I was fatigued in mind and body, and I slept well,
and long. ,
Madame A. Ah ! youth soon forgets its sorrows — and so your
name is Arundel, although you have always been called Cleve-
land ; and you are, it seems, the daughter of my dead brother,
Captain Arundel. My brother never countenanced me — but
never mind that ; you have told me your story — I own I
cannot exactly understand why you have left Sir John Cleve-
land's — but as I said before, never mind that.
Joanna. lie is no longer kind to me — he no longer has faith
in me ; and so I have left him and come up to London to you,
as my only relative, to throw myself upon your kindness.
Madame A. Ah, exactly — and had some trouble to find me,
no doubt ?
Joanna. Yes, I knew not your address ; and your change
of name —
Madame A. Exactly — from Arundel to Arundelli, my dear
’Twas necessary — nothing that’s native is fashionable — must be
foreign to succeed in London — but really your arrival —
Joanna. I can labour ! You employ other young girls —
I can work ; I do not want to be a burden to you — I wish to
work for you, that is all ; and if you can give me kindness as
well, I shall look upon it as a precious boon.
Madame A. Oh, we don’t want any hands.
Joanna. But you will not cast me from you? For his sake
who sleeps in the grave now, and for the dear love that may
yet be all our own, when we meet again after this world’s trials
and fitful frowns have passed away, oh, do not abandon me in
this great and merciless city ! Oh, do not, I implore you ! for,
without you, I am alone and friendless !
M adame A. Really, my dear, you are very pretty ! Work
would not suit you at all. We shall be able, I hope, to do
better than that for you. As I said before, your story is so
perplexing, that I can make nothing of it — there must have
been something for this Stanmore to desert you — but we shall
see — we shall see. We must have the advice of my cousin
Thompson, who will presently be here.
J oanna. Is she good — and kind — young ?
Madame A. She ! My dear, it’s a he — a gentleman !
28
WOMAN OF THE WOULD.
Act 2.
Joanna. Indeed!
Madame A. Yes — did you never hear of gentlemen cousins?
Joanna. Oh, yes — yes — but —
Enter Miss Winch, l.
Miss W. If you please, ma’am, here is your cousin, Mr.
Thompson. Walk in, if you please, Mr. Thompson.
Enter the Duke of Endell, l. — Miss Winch curtseys , aud
goes off , i l.
Duke, {to Madame A.) IIow do?
Madame A. ( crosses , c., looking at Duke, significantly)
Cousin Thompson, I am delighted to see you. {turning to
Joanna) My dear— Cousin Thompson is a gentleman of great
judgement and experience, on whose good-will you may rely.
Joanna, (r.) It is no doubt kind of you, but —
Madame A. Hush ! My niece, Cousin Thompson.
Duke, (e.) Ah! {raising eyeglass, and taking a steady look
at Joanna) Um! (Madame A. looks anxiously at Duke, who
nods) She’ll do ! I am delighted to see you, Miss — a — a —
Madame A. (c.) Joanna Arundelli !
Duke. Ah, yes — I am quite delighted — perfectly charmed.
Enter Miss W inch, l.
Miss W. Oh, if you please, ma’am, the hands don’t know
how to get on without you.
Madame A. How provoking ! Cousin Thompson, will you
excuse me a few moments ?
Duke. Oh, certainly.
Joanna, {taking Madame’s arm) You will not leave me?
Madame A. {removing Joanna’s arm) Don’t be a fool !
Tell Cousin Thompson your story, and he will advise. I shall
be back soon.
Joanna. But I have no story, and no need of advice.
Madame, {crossing l.) Pooh ! pooh !
Nods significantly to Duke, and goes off, l., followed by
Winch.
Duke, {with a bland smile, and his glass to his eye) Well, my
dear, and what are your expectations ?
Joanna, (r.) Sir!
Duke. I want to know' what are your expectations, my dear,
that is all. You are a charming young creature, and I am only
all amazement to know how on earth Arundelli found you. I
think she said your friends were in the country ?
Joanna. I have no friend, sir, but Madame Arundelli.
Duke. Nay, pray inclnde me, if you please! Do not play
he coy maiden, for I am the most liberal of men, as you will
Sc. 2. WOMAN OF THE WORLD. 29
find ; nor am I inconstant either, without good cause. Come,
now, what do you say ?
Joanna. If you please I — I should like to see my aunt. I —
Duke. Oh! she shall have every reason to be satisfied.
There is really no need for consultation, for you are a charming,
exquisite, adorable girl! I really and truly love you! There
is a piquant innocence about you that is fresh as the perfume
of early roses. I shall — I do admire you ! mistress of my heart
and fortune, there is nothing in all the world that your utmost
caprice can long for that shall not be yours — the life that is
before you, shall be a romance. I never loved till now ! I
have been cold, indilferent, jaded, but now I love with all my
heart !
Joanna. Oh ! what can all this mean ? (calls) Aunt ! Aunt !
Oh ! sir, let me pass, if you are a gentleman !
D uke. I am a nobleman !
Joanna. I care not ! I ask you but to 'prove you are
a gentleman !
Duke. My adorable girl — you shall be mine! and mine
only !
Joanna. Help! Aunt! Help!
(Duke follows her round the table — Joanna, in her fright knocks
over the table , she dashes open French window and shrieks
“ Help ! help ! ” as Duke grasps her by the arm. — Music
— tableau. [iVo. 532, “ Joanna attempting to escape from
Cousin Thompson. ” ]
Duke. This is carrying coquetry too far.
Joanna, (looking through window) Save me ! save me!
Duke, (dragging her forward) Hush! you will attract notice
from the street !
Madame Arundelli enters hastily , l . — goes to and closes
window.
Madame A. Are you mad, girl — that you would draw obser-
vation to my house ? Are you mad, I say ?
Joanna, (o.) Ah! thank Heaven, you are here! You do
not know, you cannot know this man !
Madame A. Hush ! hush !
Joanna. I will not be silent ! I am slow of suspicion, but
I feel that it is infamy to listen to him, or to breathe the air of
his presence. Aunt, if this is the sort of protection you offer
me, welcome the streets of London, even if I have to beg my
daily bread.
Duke, (r.) I throw my fortune at your feet !
Joanna. And I despise it, sir, as I despise you !
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Act 2.
30
Miss Wincii enters hurriedly, l.
Miss W. A man rusliing up stairs — a gentleman, I mean,
ma’am, asking for Miss Cleveland. I couldn’t stop him — he
upset me on the stairs in a most indelicate manner — says he will
see her.
Joanna. Ah! help!
Madame. A. Quick ! ( seizing Joanna) assist me, Winch !
Drag her to my private cabinet — come !
Music — Madame Aeu^'delli places her hand over Joanna’s
mouth , who is dragged off, \ r. — the instant she is off \ Charles
Stanmore hurries on l.
Duke, (c.) Now, sir, why this intrusion ?
Charles, (l. c.) I must and will see her ! It was her voice
X heard — it was her form I beheld — I will swear it ! give her
to me — I am in London searching for her, on authority of her
relations.
Re-enter Madame Arundelli and Miss Winch, r.
Madame A. And pray, sir, who may you be, that you take
upon yourself to rush into people’s houses in this way, without
the slightest knowledge of them, and without their leave ?
Miss W. Oh, ma’am, perhaps the gentleman is mistaken,
after all, and when he owns it, he may apologise. I don’t
know yon, sir, and no relations have any right to claim me ;
and if I choose, while playing at forfeits with my cousin, here,
and Madame Arundelli, to go to the window, and cry u help ”
to get back my bracelet — for that w T as what I had to do — w T hat
is that to you, sir? ( sticking out her elbows — advancing to
Stanmore, and shaking her head in his face) Eh? eh? eh?
Charles. You?
Miss W. Yes, me! What then, sir!
Madame A. ( shouting , l.) Minchin ! take care of the
spoons !
Charles. Well, well ; in the excited state of my mind, it
is possible that I may have been mistaken, and I must apologise
to that elderly spinster for —
Miss W. Elderly spinster ! Get out of the house you
villain !
Charles, {aside) I am not yet satisfied, and I will watch.
Oh ! Joanna, Joanna ! Exit , l.
Madame A. {shouting off) Minchin! watch the umbrellas
in the passage, {turning to Duke) I w r arned your grace — you
have spoiled all by being so precipitate,
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
31
Sc. 3.
Duke. Have your own price — make your own arrangements
— but that girl must be mine, if slie costs me half my fortune,
Madame A. So she shall — for you are so liberal, there is no
resisting you ; and I have a plan. The girl is pining for fresh
air — there is a small parcel of choice lace to go to Lady Bedal^’s
— Joanna shall be the bearer of it, on her return you must con-
trive — in short, the rest is for you to do. ( crosses , r.)
Duke. Admirable ! You shall be well rewarded — doubt ifc
not. Farewell! Exit, l,
Madame A. Oh, dear, all this agitation is too much for my
delicate system — nothing will recover me but some bran — a
little cordial, I mean.
Miss W. Oh, ma’am, you are a poor dear' angel.
Madame A. I am afraid I am, Winch — I am afraid I am.
Exit Miss Winch supporting Madame A., R.
SCENE THIRD. — Street in London .
Enter John Butts and Susan Jenkins, l., arm in arm , loth
• with their Sunday clothes on — John has an old fashioned
icatch chain , and immense lunch of seals , a thick, oaken stick
in his hand.
John. "Well, zooks and taters! this here Lunnun be the
biggest place as ever I did see, and what surprises me above
all, that it be all over houses. And I never seed such shops —
and there’s generally more than one man to keep one on ’em,
for over almost every door there’s Jones and Co., or Smith and
Co., or something or other and Co. What a many people to be
sure of the name of Co ! I wonder if all them Mr. Co’s are related
to one another V
Susan. Ha, ha, ha ! Law, John, what a stupid gaby you
are ! Co is only a make believe — it means a Company.
John. Likely — but better monners, Susan, or I shan’t keep
company wi’ you any longer— -you a’ gotten good brass to call
me a gaby afore we’re married, I think.
Susan. La, John, it’s only a playful expression.
John. Oh, zooks and taters ! you are playful is you — I don’t
fancy that, for playful women is like playful kittens — they
scratches.
Susan. Well, don’t be cross, John — give me a kiss.
John. What, out here in the street, wi’ all the Lunnun
chaps a looking at us ? No, dang it, I can’t stand that neither .
Susan. You have promised, John, to make me your lawful
wife, and so I persuaded you to treat me up to London, because
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
?>2
Act 2
I am acquainted with the renowned city, and can induct you
to its galaxy of sparkling pleasure.
John. ( whistling ) Whew! Susan, is you a young woman,
or is you a member of Parlyment? Hedgehogs and mangel
wurzel ! what is all them words about ?
Susan. I mean, John, that I can introduce you to its intoxi-
cating delights.
John. Intoxicating ! yes, I shouldn’t wonder, for there be
a nation sight of public houses in Lunnon — but I bean’t inclined
for a fuddle just now, thank’ee.
Susan. Oh, dear, dear, John, you are remarkably obtruse.
John. Now, I say, Susan, doanVee call names, I don't
like it.
Susan. ’Tisn’t names, John, it’s only the genteel w r ords I
picked up when I was in service in London.
John. Ah, well, if you picked ’em up, the sooner, I think,
that you drop ’em agin, the better.
Susan. Well, John, to speak plain, as fashionable people
say, I mean to show you the lions.
John. Why, zooks and taters ! Do you think I’ve come up
to Lunnon on’yjust to see the wild beastes? I’ve seed ’em on’y
t’other day — there was a menaggery down in our parts.
Susan. Menaggery! Oh, 1 give you up, John — you are
incorrigible.
John, (in a passion) No, I bean’t ! I’s a respectable
farmer, and you may give up as soon as you like, for 1 tell ’ee
what Susan, I wunt put up wi’ no more of your dommed
imperence ! If a man had said as much to me ( taking off his
hat and punching it) I’d a punched his head as flat as a pancake !
Susan. Don’t, John ! Don’t spoil your new hat, or you’ll
have to buy another to be married in.
John. I won’t be married at all! I'll have a divorce
instead.
Susan. Perhaps that will come afterwards, (hursts into tears)
How can you be so cruel ? Oh, John Butts! John Bu-bu-
bu —
John. Oh, dang it, Susan ! if you begins to cry, I’m molli-
fied directly.
Susan, (aside) I know that, it’s only make-believe, (cries
again) Oh, oh, oh !
John, (whimpering) Now do give over, Susan, else I shall
begin to bellow directly, do ’ee leave off, Susan ! Oh, ploughs
and parsnips, Susy ! I’ll gi’ee onything if thee’lt ony gi’ over.
Susan, (suddenly ceasing to cry) Will you, John? will you
let me buy that pretty dress I saw in the shop window yonder ?
John. Eh? Oh dang it, Susan! you knows how to do it.
Sc. 3. WOMAN OF THE WOULD. 33
Well, zooks and taters ! women be the most artful animals as
ever I seed.
Susan. You said it would be a waste of money to buy it,
and as we are going to be married, we both ought to be saving.
John. Well, and I think so now.
Susan. You do, John, and musn’t I buy it then, John?
{begining to cry ) you are the — the —
John. No, no, stop, Susan! stop ! Go and buy it — go and
buy all the shop if you like, so long as you wont turn on that
ere main again.
Susan. Come you with me, John, you can amuse yourself
looking in at the shop window, while I am buying the dress.
John. What ! and have some chap amuse himsen by cleaning
out my pockets, as they did t’other day while I was a staring at
the wax work.
Susan. The thieves in London are dreadful.
John. Zooks and taters ! that they is — they very nearly had
my watch t’other day — that grandfeather gi’ me — on’y it be so
large that they couldn’t lug it out o’ my fob — it stuck by tho
way, and while the chap were a hauling at it, I let fly wi’ my
stick, and away he rolled into the gutter — and it’s my opinion
he’d ha’ the headache for a week aterwards.
Susan. Well, wait here — 1 shan’t be long, if the shop ain’t
full. You know I take a pleasure in obeying you, John, ( aside )
but only wait till we are married, and we’ll soon see then who’s
master. Exit l.
John. ( calling after her ) Take care of your pockets, Susan !
I must look arter her, ’cause if she were robbed now, it would
be so much loss when we are married. Zooks and taters !
what a nation sight of people there be a walking about to be
sure — I be's sure there can’t be no room for ’em unless they
sleep five or six in a bed.
Enter Major Edmonds, r., dressed shabbily.
Ma jor. I am sure I shall be too late — can’t see a clock about
here, and my ticker has long ago been in the possession of an
esteemed welative. Oh ! here is an indiwidual. ( advancing and
touching John on the shoidder ) My dear sir, excuse me, but —
John {starting back) Keep off! or domme if I don’t knock
*ee down.
Major. Knock me down, eh? Oh yes — catch a weazel
asleep ! My good fwiend, I merely wish to know what’s o’clock.
John. Eh ? (alarmed — takes his hat off and claps it over his
bunch of seals) No, no, that wont do — 1’s up to your rigs —
you know what’s o’clock, well enough.
34
WOMAN or THE WORLD.
Act 2.
Major, (aside) What a queer animal ! (aloud) The fact is,
my fvviend, I have an appointment with a lovely young lady —
John, (aside) Somebody he is going to rob, I suppose.
Major. And I am afraid I shall be too late.
John. Well, you won’t get there no sooner by stopping here,
you know.
Major. Ha, ha ! vewy good ! catch a weazel asleep and — ha,
lia ! I see — stwike me comical, you are a wag.
John. A wag! perhaps I am — but I tell’ee what, if you
don’t go, you’ll find my stick a- wagging about your head
presently.
Major. Oh ! weally, I can’t put up with this — (advancing
towards John) and I must have —
John. No, you shan’t, nobody shall have it — it were grand-
fathers (shouting) here, purlice ! purlice !
Major. Confound the fellow, it’s lucky the police are never
in the way when they are wanted. He is an innocent wustic I
perceive, (to John) My good fwiend, I admiwr you exceedingly.
(aside) here’s a chance, catch a weazel — hem ! (aloud) My dear
fellow, I am pwoud of your acquaintance.
John. Be off! will’ee? I don’t know’ee, and I don’t want to.
Major. I was mewely about to say, that — that a tempo-
wawy emergency — would — could you lend me half a cwown ?
John. Oh, yes, I could !
Major, (holding out his hand ) Ah ! thank you !
John. I could I say !
Major. Thank you ! I’m in lucks way, stwike me fortunate !
Thank you !
John. But I’m dommed if I do!
Major. Oh ! (John buttons up his coat) I see, catch a weazel
asleep ! (looking off, r.) Eh ! yonder goes a young woman I
have said a few tender things to — I think she’s good for about
eighteen pence. Here, Miss Swab! Catch a weazel asleep
not to be done — stwike me uncomfortable ! Runs off, r.
John, (looking after him) Danged if I ain’t had a wonderful
escape — never see such a cut throat looking rascal in all my
days !
Enter Joanna, l.. rather shabbily dressed , and carrying a small
parcel .
Joanna. My aunt’s designs are now but too plainly appa-
rent, for the fine dress, having served it’s turn, to wear in the
presence of him she called her cousin, she has taken it from me,
and given me this poor attire. And must I return to her
house ! oh ! where else can I go ? But this parcel which I am
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Sc. 3.
35
to take. I must inquire my way. {going to John) Would
you be kind enough to tell me —
John. ( turning , seeing her , and retreating) Keep off! none
of your Lunnon tricks, young ’ooman, they don’t do wi’ I ; I’ve
heerd of your games — you ain’t a-going to hocuss I, I can tell’ ee.
Joanna, {hanging her head) Alas — alas!
John. There now — she's going to cry — somebody has told
her how to come over me. {advancing rather fearfully) Young
’ooman, if you be’s really honest, I — I — (Joanna raises her
head and looks at him) Eh ? {starting) surely I ought to know
that face, for I never seed another like it ; but it can’t be — I
ain’t awake — it’s a moral unposserbility.
Joanna, {astonished) John Butts!
John. Miss Joanna! Oh, oh, zooks and tat ers! {drops his
stick and hursts out crying) Oh dear— oh dear ! to see ’ee like
this — you so good, so beautisome — it’s enough to make any-
body bad. Oh, dang it ! how I should like to punch some-
body’s head.
Joanna. Oh, John, times are sadly changed with me.
John. I see they be, miss — and you that was such a lady
— and that your uncle was so fond on.
Joanna. Oh, do not, John, in mercy do not.
John. Well, I won’t ; {wiping his eyes) but — (breaking out)
Ploughshares and barley seed ! {dashing his hat to the ground)
It’s enough to make a man — but here — here, I’ve gotten some
o’ the rhino, (hastily pulls out a leather hag full of money and
thrusts it into her hand) Take that for the present — I ha’ gotten
some more at home ; and here — here —you shall ha’ grand-
feather’s watch — I never thought to part wi’ it, but — (lugging
at chain) Domn thee, come out, will ’ee !
Joanna, {forcing him to take hack his money) John, I knew
you always for a noble-hearted fellow ; but pray take back
your money — I cannot — at all events, not yet.
John. Oh, yes, I understand; but if you won’t have my
money, I tell’ee what, Miss Joanna — you sees Susan Jenkins,
you know her, in course. Well, we is a going to be married —
she wouldn’t let me have no peace till I said she might put up
the hangs. And you — you, Miss Joanna, shall come and live
wi' us, like a lady, as you is, or perhaps you mayn’t like living
wi’ her as were once your servant — so I tell’ee what, Miss
Joanna I wont marry Susan at all — or I’ll put it off for nine or
ten years or so, and you shall come and live wi’ me, all alone —
there now !
Joanna. Good John — we will talk of all that hereafter. I
must not loner longer here — evening draws on, and I have to
deliver this parcel. Will you accompany me?
36 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 2.
John. ’Company you! Dang mo if I ever leave you ony
more. But where be’s it you be’s a-going to ?
Joanna. To Park Lane — do you know it?
John. Lor, bless ’ee, not I ! I never \seed sich lanes as they
ha’ gotten in Lunnon — they be’s all full o’ houses.
Joanna. It is to a Lady Bedale, that I am going.
John. What, to a real, live lady ? Lor, come along then !
we’ll find it, never fear — and while you goes into the house, I’ll
lie down on the step o’ the door, and keep a sharp look out,
like my dog Towser does, outside his kennel.
Joanna. Come, then, my kind friend.
John. Stop, let’s get my hat, and my walking stick, (picks
them up) and we’ll talk over matters by the way — for dang
me if you shall be without a good home while John Butts has
got a pound in his old leather bag.
Joanna, (taking John’s arm ) Heaven will one day reward
you for this goodness.
As they are going , arm in arm , r., Susan enters , l., carrying a
large parcel bejore her — she gives a furious start — John turns
and sees her.
Susan. Oh, gracious ! John — John ! what does this dread-
ful vision mean ?
John. Don’t bother me now, young ’ooman. Zooks and
taters ! don’t you see I’m ’ticlarly engaged.
(walks off with Joanna, r., Susan stares after them amazed
— then her arms drop , and the large parcel falls to the
ground.
Susan. Oh, oh ! I’m very ill — I want to faint, and I can’t,
for I don’t see a blessed soul to catch me ! Oh, the monster !
and next Sunday would have been the last time of asking. It’s
all the fault of those horrid draper’s young men — they kept me
so long talking ; and they looked so nice, done up all in black
and white ; and now, I shall look blue, for I have lost my young
man. Oh, oh, oh ! (crying) And so much trouble I had, too,
to catch him ; and now lie’s broke loose. Oh ! if I only had
hold of the nasty hussy that’s unwiggled him from me — I’ll —
I'll — oh, oh, oh ! (crying)
Enter Major Edmonds, r.
Major. Bless my soul ! what’s the matter ? don’t, young
woman — you’ll distuwb the whole neighbourwliood. ("Susan
bellows) Don’t, I tell you — you’ll be shot ! People will think
there’s an unlimited number of cats in the gutter — stwike me
uneasy !
Susan, (looking up , and ceasing to cry) Why, bless me, it’a
Major Edmonds!
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
37
Sc. 3.
Major. Eh ? you know me ? (aside) One of my victims,
perwhaps. (aloud) I am glad to find you have left off cwying.
Susan. No, I haven’t, (breaks out again)
Major, (stopping his ears) Oh — murder ! Will you be
quiet, just for one moment?
Susan. Certainly ! (suddenly ceasing) How is it that you
are in London, Major Edmonds ?
Major Business ! to see Miss Lisa Selby, if I can ; I want
some money from her — she is under gweat obligations to me.
Susan, (breaking out again) Oh ! John ! John !
Major. John! John! one might as well be in a dun-jon ,
as to hear this wow ! Will you stop for another moment?
Susan, (suddenly ceasing) By all means.
Major. How do you happen to know me ?
Susan. I was servant at Cleveland Hall, when you used to
come there.
Major. Oh, indeed! You are a pwetty girl, will you take
a small walk with me, my love ?
Susan. ( bursting out again) No, no, never, certainly not, no,
no, no ! (suddenly ceasing , and taking his arm) Yes, I will !
Major. That’s wight, a — hem! ’pon my soul, I am ashamed
to ask, but, pecuniawy disappointments — hem ! could you lend
me half a cwown ?
Susan, (producing her purse) WTth pleasure, Major.
Major, (aside) All wight ! catch a weazel asleep, and —
(she gives him half a crown) Thank you my angel ! (aside) I’ll
make a little love to her, and then borwow another.
Susan. Would you have the goodness, Major, to carry that
small parcel for me ?
Major. Small parcel ! hem ! (lifts it from ground) Ah !
well, one comfort it isn’t heavy, (puts it under his arm)
Susan. Oh ! (with a half scream) don’t do that, Major.
By the bye, people say you are not a Major !
Major. Do they ? ha, ha ! malice, my love, malice — catch a
weazel asleep, you know.
Susan. Oh, dear, you have crushed it quite flat, you must
carry it gently ; hold your arm up, there, (lying dress across
his arms) There, (taking his arm) that’s the way you must
.carry it — it is so nicely cut out.
Major, (aside) And a pwetty figure I shall cut — never
mind, there’s another half cwown or two, on the woad.
Susan. It’s a new dress — I bought it to — to — because, Jo —
Jo — John — (roaring loudly) oh, oh !
Major. Oh! dem it! she’s bweaking out in a fwesh place.
Exeunt l.
D
38
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Act 2
SCENE FOURTH. — Mansion in Park Lane . Handsome
apartment , sumptuously furnished — ottomans, consoles , 8fc.
Lisa, iw elegant evening dress, discovered at table, her face
buried in her hands — Music — after a pause, she looks up.
Lisa. I have attained the wealth and splendour for which I
pined, but am I happy ? No ! Joanna — where’er thou art,
whate’er thy wretchedness — more tranquilly dost thou sleep
than she who toiled and sinned to plunge thee into misery !
(rises) But I will pursue the course I have begun — I will not,
if I can avoid it, fall from my high estate, and so become the
world’s mockery ! My state, supported by stolen wealth, sur-
rounded by suitors whom I despise, while he whom I so
madly love, rejects me with all my riches, and lavishes his
adoration on a poor, penniless girl. I have been taught to think
that wealth can purchase every joy. It is a lie ! for is it not
powerless to win me now the only heart I prize ? There is, too,
a never ceasing Tear around, about me — weighing down,
amidst the gayest throng, the spirits that should be buoyant.
The happiness sought by guilt, is but illusion — each step I take,
i dread the avalanche that would o’er whelm me.
Enter Lady Bedale, r., handsomely dressed.
Lady B. My love, there is a shabby looking man — the
servants can’t get rid of him — he insists on seeing you — says
his name is Croker.
Lisa, (starting) Ah !
Lady B. Croker ! what a horrid name ! I shall make him
go — for of course we don’t want a croker here.
Lisa. No, no, Lady Bedale, I will see him — I —
Lady B. My dear, you are agitated ! Who then, is this
Croker ?
Lisa. Lady Bedale, you have promised that you would not
be curious — that you would not seek to pry into the mystery
which I have freely confessed surrounds me.
Lady B. Very true, my love ; your wealth has restored me
to the society from which I thought myself for ever banished —
and, certainly, no scruples of mine — but this man — tl^s
Croker ?
Enter Croker, r.
Croker. That’s me — I’m Croker — u Crowbar Croker,” they
call me. I’m an honest lawyer — ugh, ah — bow-wow, ugh !
what do you think of that? (crosses, c.) Miss Selby — ah, um !
— must speak to you — old lady, go away !
Lai>yB. Old lady!
Sc. 4. WOMAN OF THE WORLD. 39
Choker. Venerable, but not respectable — eugh, ah, bow-
wow — get out ! eugh !
Lady Bedale flounces off, r. — Lisa sinks into chair , l.
Croker. Ah, urn! ain’t you well? Look here! (holding
letter ) My client, Sir John Cleveland, lias written to me — um
— thinks that you are at my house — that I am helping you to
search for his other niece — eugh, um! don’t understand it—
says he gave you a letter — you have never been to me, you
know — says he shall be in London in a day or two, to see how
the matter goes on — what matter? eugh! um! something is
the matter, I am sure of that ! he wants to know about his lo$t
lamb ; but I know that Lady Bedale is an old cat — eugh ! um !
bow-wow ! eugh ! (wheezing)
Lisa, (rising, greatly agitated — aside ) Oh ! the ruin that
I dreaded is approaching — how to avert it ?
Croker. Well ! um ! ah ! don’t talk to yourself, talk to me,
eugh ! um ! bow-wow ! eugh ! (coughing and wheezing )
Lisa. Mr. Croker, to-morrow at two o’clock I will be at
your office, and — and — will arrange this affair with you, and,
if you — if you would condescend to be my solicitor, and — and
to accept of a fee of a thousand guineas for —
Croker. Bribery ! Ah ! um ! Was sure there was some-
thing wrong — won’t do —
Lisa. Two thousand !
Croker. Oh ! ee eugh !
Lisa. Four thousand!
Croker. You want to know my price ; for what sum I will
betray, in some gross way, my old client, Sir John Cleveland ?
Oh, um — go to the devil ! Ah, eugh, bow-wow !
Lisa. But you will wait till two to-morrow ?
Croker. Yes ; that won’t make much difference — but 1
must know then, the game you are playing, or I shall be sure to
find you out, and then so much the worse for you ; you may
wriggle and twist, but you are caged and caught. Bow-wow,
eugh! my name is Croker — that’s enough, to those that know
me — bow-wow ! I shall see you to-morrow.
Enter Lady Bedale, r.
Get out of the way, old lady ! ( crosses , r.) To-morrow ! to-
morrow ! (looking at Lady Bedale) Ah, eugh — pussy cat !
Bow-wow, eugh ! Exit, r.
Lady B. The old hog ! eugh ! My dear, the visit of that
savage has disturbed you — you look ill.
Lisa, (with affected composure) Oh! no, he merely called on
a little business that —
Lady B. (aside) That’s false, I know. But never mind, she
lias still about two hundred thousand pounds at her bankers.
40 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 2
Lisa. ( severely ) Why did you return, Lady Bedale, when
you knew that I was not alone ?
Lady B. I really thought that horrid Croker was gone.
(aside) That’s a thumper ! (aloud) I came to tell you that a
young person is here from Madame Arundelli’s with the pat-
terns of the lace that — (pointedly) but perhaps you are too
troubled now to bother about such trifles ?
Lisa, (with an effort) Troubled? certainly not, wherefore?
let her come in.
Music . — Joanna enters r., crosses to c., curtseys to Lisa, who ,
at that moment , turns towards Joanna, their eyes meet —
Chord — Joanna drops parcel.
Joanna. ( joy f idly) Lisa !
Lisa, (aside — greatly agitated) Joanna !
J oanna. Lisa ! dear Lisa ! my cousin ! companion of my
childhood — dear friend of my' girlish days — oh ! how is it that I
see you here, surrounded with so much splendour ? Oh ! tell
me, is he well — my dear uncle — tell me, is it possible that he
will be here — is this to be the blessed end of all distress? Oh,
Lisa ! Lisa ! in mercy speak to me.
(Lady Bedale is staring in astonishment , R.
Lisa, (coldly) Lady Bedale, is this young person a lunatic ?
Lady B. Eli ! well — yes — I should’nt at all wonder !
Joanna. Lisa, can this be? Do you not know me?
Lisa. I never saw you in my life before.
Joanna, (shrinking hack) Oh! say not that ! surely you are
Lisa. The look — the tone ! Oh, Lisa ! you are jesting with
me. Say that you are — speak, dear Lisa, oh ! speak to me.
Lisa. Begone ! I know you not !
Joanna. Good Heavens! (turning to Lady Bedale) Oh,
tell me — is not the name of this young lady, Selby ?
Lady B. Ye —
Lisa. ( loudly , and with a stern glance at Lady Bedale.) No !
Joanna. Not! then sight and mind are surely failing me.
Oh ! Heaven help and protect me.
Music . — Joanna gazes searchingly into the face of Lisa, iclio
returns the look with one of cold severity — Joanna shudders
and staggers off, \ r., Lisa sinks into chair.
Lady B. (j picking up parcel, and placing it on table) There is
something very mysterious in all this, for that young woman
was as sensible as I am, and of course your name is Selby —
Lisa, (rising) Lady Bedale, I will soon make you my con-
fidant — will tell you all ; and now leave me, leave me, for I
have need to reflect — ay, and to act.
Lady B. Very well, my love, (aside) There will be a smash
and a crash, soon ; I am sure of that. I am sadly afraid her
great heap of money was not honestly come by ; and — But
41
Se. 4. WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
never mind, I have saved something worth while, thank good-
ness ! Exit, l.
Lisa. Monti ! he only can save me now. I must instantly
seek him —
Enter Monti, r. — chord.
Monti. You need not, Lisa, he is here. You are agitated —
yon tremble — wherefore? You have no cause for fear.
Lisa. Not ? ruin surrounds me every way, and only you
can rescue me.
Monti. And I will do so. Joanna has been here.
Lisa. Ah ! you know ?
Monti. Yes ; know too, that ere long she w T ill be beyond the
power of doing you harm — will cross your path no more.
Lisa. You will not slaughter — Oh ! I am not yet prepared
for that.
Monti. Fear not, her life is safe.
Lisa. Thanks for that ; but I have more to tell —
Monti. I know that you would say. Croker has been
here — you have never delivered your letter of introduction;
and Sir John has written to him, making inquiries, and
announcing his intention of being in London within a few'
days. #
Lisa. Yes, yes ; how could you know all this ?
Monti. Nothing can escape me.
Lisa. Yes, yes ! you are powerful, and you will save me.
Monti. I will ! (she clasps her hands joyfully') Desperate
perils must be encountered by desperate means. Croker must
be silenced.
Lisa. Ah, yes ! offer him any sum. (he smiles) But Sir
John — should he arrive in London !
Monti. He will not !
Lisa. IIow?
Monti. He must be stopped.
Lisa. Stopped ! you do not mean —
Monti. Murder him ! Well, to save you, I may even com-
mit a murder, since I hrve already plunged into forgery on your
account.
Lisa. Ah!
Monti. Yes, the bankers wrote to inform Sir John of your
heavy drafts on his account — I, no matter how, contrived to
intercept that letter.
Lisa. You did !
Monti. Ay ; and returned one, seemingly written by Sir
John, which assured the bankers that all was well, and bade
them yield to you that you all should command.
Lisa. Already then, you have saved me from destruction ?
42
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
Act 2.
Monti. And will again. Go on, and fear not. Your star
has not yet culminated — you are, as yet, but entering on your
glorious career !
Lisa. Oh, that I were but assured of that !
Monti. You may be. Confide in me — hitherto have I in
aught failed you?
Lisa. No, oh, no ! but — but for all this, you will require
something more of me ?
Monti. Yes, Lisa, yes — we serve, and are useful to each
other.
Lisa. Is it more money? Be moderate, Monti, the sum at
my disposal, were it ten times the amount, would soon vanish
before such drafts as you make upon it. You have already had
seventy thousand.
Monti. Not my fair proportion. But, at present I shall
not ask you for more money, but jewels — for four and twenty
hours, as was our compact. You do not procure them fast
enough. You have opportunities for obtaining the most price-
less in the land.
Lisa. I borrow, where’er ’tis possible —
Monti. But you neglect the chances where you might bor-
row without the consent of the owner, and replace again — and
none be a whit the wiser.
Lisa. I cannot, and I will not do that — I will* not, as I have
told you, become a common thief.
Monti, (with a sneering laugh ) And yet you have robbed of
a large sum, your loving, doting, foolish old uncle.
Lisa. Bobbed !
Monti. Oh ! I beg pardon — appropriated is a genteeler
Avord ! Do my bidding Lisa, or, in an instant, and in the
height of your glory, stricken with disgrace — crushed with
infamy — you will shriek and grovel at my feet.
Lisa. Mercy! do not — I shudder in every limb — I will
obey you in everything.
Monti. Then you are safe ; but, remember, that at every
moment of your life, you stand upon the brink of an abyss ;
and that you will surely topple over, whenever it shall please
me to withdraw my protecting arm. Forget not that, and so,
farewell ! Music — Exit, r.
Lisa. Yes, I am in his power, and must obey his behests ;
and he, alone, can save me. Oh ! I hate him with an intensity
that knows no bounds. But vainly do I groan — vainly do I
writhe and struggle, for I am his bonded slave. He has made
me what I now am ; and by a breath he could scatter the
fabric of my new existence to the winds. No, no, I dare not
defy him, for I am his — his — his — body and soul, are all his
own. Music — Exit, L,
Sc. 5.
WOMAN ON TIIE WORLD.
43
SCENE FIFTH. — Street — Night. (2nd grooves')
Music— Jon'S Butts hurries on , R. — and looks every way.
John. Oh! zooks and taters ! gone — gone — can’t find her
nowheres. What a marcy it would be if somebody would come
and kill me — I desarves it. What will Miss Joanna think of
me, arter all my promises ? Oh ! I’ve a great mind to knock
mysel’ on the head wi’ my stick. Eh ? be that her ? ( runs and
looks off, l.) No, it be a perliceman. While I wur sitting on
the step o’ the house, a man fell down opposite — they said he
wur in a fit ; but nobody seemed to care, so I went to helpThe
poor critter up ; and as soon as I got him on his feet, he lugged
grandfeather’s watch out o’ my fob, and run away likehnad ; and
ever so many chaps knocked me about, and pushed my hat over
my eyes ; and when I got it up again, and could see — dang me if
there wur a soul in sight now~here. Oh ! Lunnun be a awful
place. Eh? dang it — there’s Miss. Joanna, (runs to r.) No!
(shaking his head ) it’s a Tiitalian wi’ a barrel organ. And
then, when I came to my thoughts agin, I run to the door and
hammered away wi’ my stick, and axed for Miss Joanna ; and
they told me she wur gone, and said they’d lock me up ; but
I didn’t wait for that, and — eh? (turning towards l.) I be sure
that be her yonder by the gas7ilight. Oh ! I be’s so glad — •
Miss Joanna ! Miss Joanua ! oh lud ! oh lud ! Runs off , l.
Enter Duke of Endell, r.
Duke. ’Tis clear she has escaped me — yet how? she has not
passed this way on her return — of that I’m certain.
Monti has entered , r. 2 e., and advanced to the Duke’s side.
Monti. The girl for whom you wait will presently be here ;
and I, and only I can place her securely in your power.
Duke. Ah! how know you — ?
Monti. No matter ! her friends would richly reward him
who would bring her back to their arms.
Duke. That must not be. I, too, can reward.
Monti. I know it. I have an interest in keeping the girl
from her home — I have an influence over her. Agree to my
terms, and she is yours — refuse, and she is lost to you for ever.
Duke. And those terms —
Monti. A thousand pounds, and the immediate removal of
the girl from this country.
Duke. Give her to me, and I will double the reward you
ask.
Monti. And will take her, at once, from England?
I Duke. Yes !
44 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 2 _
Monti. You may safely trust me ; I will, as I have before
done, throw her into a mesmeric trance, and she will follow
you, and will be powerless in your hands. ( crosses c.) She is
coming ! I but go to bid your coachman draw up to the spot.
Accost and detain her with a few words till my return
Exit l. 2 e.
Duke. Yes, I will take her abroad to sunny Italy, and she
will be all my own — my own !
Enter Joanna, r. 1 e.
Joanna. Vainly have I lingered and searched — he has not
rejoined me. What can have happened? willingly, I am
certain, John Butts would not desert me.
Duke. ( advancing , l.) My charming creature, do I meet
you once again ?
Joanna. Ah ! I see it plainly now — poor John has been
entrapped. Let me pass you, sir, or I will shriek for help.
Duke. Nay, why shrink from one who so passionately loves
you?
Joanna. Villain ! I will go my way. ( crossing to l.)
Duke, (grasping her) No! by Heaven, you shall not again
escape me.
Joanna. Help! help! (Music — they struggle) Will no
friendly hand be raised to protect me ?
John Butts runs on, l. 2 e., and knocks the Duke down with
cudgel .
John, (looking down at him) There! now you’ll keep your
paws off another time, won’t you ? Dang it ! how his head
has bruised my stick, sur ely. Lord, my dear, I be’s so glad to
see ’ee again, (hugs her , and then shrinks hack abashed) I axes
pardon ! don’t ’ee be afeared, miss — I be’s an innocent chap, I
assure ’ee.
Duke, (rising) Villain! this attack upon my life shall not
go unpunished, (seizing John) Police! police!
John. Don’t ’ee stir a single step, miss, from where ’ee be —
I’ll soon get rid of this fellow ! Let go, you sir, do ’e hear ?
Let go, or dommed if I don’t gi’ ’ee another topper.
Duke, (shouting) Police ! police !
(music — They struggle , and Duke drags John off, R. 1 e.
Enter Monti, l. 2 e., and crosses at hack to r.
Joanna. Oh, Heaven! should he come to harm on my
account — at any risk, I will not desert him. (Music — Going , r.
— she encounters Monti, and shrinks hack alarmed — he looks
WOMAN OF THE WOULD.
Sc, 5.
45
fixedly into her eyes — greatly terrified ) That man again! his
gaze fascinates — petrifies me !
(Monti advances to her, and waves his arms , (music, piano,
tremuloso, tell they are off stage ) after two or three passes,
Joanno’s head droops — he ivalks round her and remains , L.
Monti. Joanna, I will that you should follow me !
Joanna, (in a trance') I must — I must!
Monti. Come, then, come !
Monti hacks of, l., waving his hands, and Joanna slowly
follows him — Music agitato — John Butts runs on, r. u. e.
John, (looking about) Gone again ! Oh, zooks and taters !
this be too much. I knocked that chap down again, and bolted
from the parlice, and now — but she must be gone that way,
and I’ll find her, or I’ll die — dang me if I don’t ! so 'here goes.
Where be ’ee ? where be ’ee ?
Running off, l. 1 e. — Susan meets him .
Susan. Oh, John ! my dear John !
J ohn. Dom thee ! stand out of the way !
Pushes her on one side and runs off, l. 1 E.
Susan. Oh ! oh ! the villain ! But I see it now — the sights
of London have turned his brain. As sure as can be, he’s got
a fit of lunacy. Nice job I have done for myself in bringing
him here — to lose a husband in such times as these, when they
are so particularly scarce. And that wretch of a Major, too,
just as we turned the corner, he run away from me, and took
iny new dress with him, and left me in such a dreadful state of
horror, that I hadn’t sufficient presence of mind to call murder.
Enter Major Edmunds, l., ivhistling — stops suddenly on seeing
Susan.
Major. Hem ! Unpleasant meeting ! — awkward — vewy !
Never mind — catch a weazel asleep and shave his eyebrows.
Susan, (who has been gasping ) I couldn’t speak before, or
else I would ; you rascal ! swindler ! Where is my dress ?
Major. Don’t be uneasy, my love, it is quite safe.
Susan. Oh, thank goodness for that ! But where is it ?
Major. Where? oh! hem! Why — it’s with my uncle.
Susan, (starting) Your uncle ! You don’t mean the — the —
Major. Yes I do ! My necessities dwove me to the deed.
You refused to lend me another half-a-cwown, and so the new
dwess went up for seven and six.
Susan. And it cost me one pound eleven ! Oh, you villain !
I’ll lock you up !
Major. No you won’t — for to pwove to you that I intend
to behave handsomely in the matter — there’s the ticket. Stwik©
me liberal ! (giving it)
Susan. Oh, you vagabond ! you —
48 WOMAN OF THE WORLD. Act 2.
Major, (looking off, r.) Oh, Lord! here’s the police ! Catch
a weazel asleep — and stwike me particularly scarce !
Buns off \ l.
Susan. Why, he’s gone ! Ah! ah! ah! (screaming violently)
Enter Two Policemen, r.
1st. Policeman. Come, I say, you gal, don’t make that row.
Susan. There he goes ! Ah ! (screams)
IsL Policeman. Oh, I see, you’re drunk again.
2nd Policeman. Lock her up once more.
Susan. There he goes ! (screams')
1st. Policeman. Yes, and here you go — to the station house.
Susan. I won’t go — I won’t — ah! John — John — ah ! ah!
Music. They hurry her off struggling and screaming , r.
SCENE SIXTH. — Willesden Lane.
Moonlight. Music. Monti discovered , c., his arms folded '
a heavy riding whip in his hand.
Monti. ’Tis down this lane that every night Croker, after
having left the omnibus, walks to his home. The friend who
each evening leaves town with him, branches off to his own
home at yonder turning, (pointing off r.) so that when Croker
snail reach the spot where now I stand, he will be alone. One
way , or another , he must be silenced ; and should it need to be
the other way , the deed may be done in safety. My horse
brought me here swiftly — he is tethered to a tree near this, and
will as quickly take me back again. Half measures will not
do, where there is so much at stake. Lisa’s fortune, and con-
sequently mine, must not thus be blasted. ( listening r.) Hark !
what was that ?
Voice, (without, as if at some distance) Good night, my
friend !
Croker. (without) Ah, eugh, good night ! Bow-wow,
eugh !
Monti. ’Tis he ! He comes — he comes — it may be, never to
depart alive !
Music. — Monti icalks steadily up stage , and takes his stand, c.,
as before — after a pause.
Croker, in a shabby great coat, and carrying a large cotton
umbrella, enters, r. 1 e., and walks leisurely up stage, his head
down, as if in thought, till he arrives at the spot where Monti
is standing.
Monti. Delighted to see you, Mr. Croker !
Sc. 6. WOMAN or THE WOULD. 47
Croker. (looks up and starts) Eli? eugh, bow-wow ! I don’t
know you.
Monti. Mr. Croker, I wish to speak to you on some business
of much importance to yourself and others. I am a neighbour
of yours, and have walked down the lane in the hope of meet-
ing you.
Croker. Then you may walk back again — I never speak of
business out of office.
Monti. Consent to become the man of business to Miss Selby,
and name you terms.
Croker. Oh ! that’s it, is it ? Hang me if I didn’t think so.
Ha, ha, heugh ! Bow-wow ! eugh You only waste your own
time and mine too — get out of my way !
Monti. Not yet — you must listen to me.
Croker. Eh, what? Eugh, bow-wow! You don’t mean
to obstruct me, do you ? That is an assault, sir, I can tell you,
if you don’t know it, an assault in law, sir !
Monti. I do know it. I tell you, Mr Croker, that by fair*
means or foul, you shall be stopped from writing to Sir John
Cleveland tomorrow. You may make your fortune by abstain-
ing— as a reasonable man would do — you may lose your life by
your obstinacy.
Croker. My life !
Monti. Yes, your pitiful life !
Croker. Help ! mur —
Music . — With a sudden hound Monti grasps Croker by the
throat — Croker raises his umbrella — Monti strikes him
with his whip , and wounds him — after a terrible struggle , they
fall together — Monti gets Croker under , kneels upon his
chest , and taking a handkerchief from his own pocket , places
it around Croker’s neck , and grasps, it tightly with both
hands. — Tableau. [No. 537 u Death struggle between
Monti and Croker.”
SCENE SEVENTH . — Handsome Chamber. (Is/ grooves.)
Enter Lady Bed ale, Sir John Cleveland, and
Dr. Meadows, l.
Sir J. (c.) You swear, then, to be silent?
Lady B. (r.) I have sworn, Sir John, solemnly sworn. Oh !
dear — who could have thought —
Sir J. Your ladyship must have known that she had no just
right to such vast wealth. But, aid us in our present scheme,
preserve the strictest silence, avoid the slightest hint by word or
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
48
Act 2.
look, of my presence in London, and you shall be suffered to
retain the money given you by my unworthy niece.
Lady B. Oh, Sir John! I am deeply grateful. I should
have been more particular — but, you see, Lisa found me so very
poor, and poverty —
Sir J. Is a great temptation to do evil. Well, well, be silent
and discreet, and your share in this disreputable matter shall
never be known to the fashionable world you hold in so much
awe.
Lady B. Oh, thanks, Sir John ! I am, I know, a blighted
lily, and un cheered by the rays of fashionable life should soon
wither and die. {aside) It hasn’t been such a bad thing for me,
after all — but the infamy of Lisa’s conduct is most atrocious.
Exit , r.
Sir J. Lisa’s puzzling silence is now too terribly accounted
for. The ungrateful, heartless monster ! In some way, I feel
assured, she has been the prime mover of all, of which poor
darling Joanna was accused.
Dr. M. There can be little doubt of that, Sir John.
Sir. J. My blessed child ! I tremble to think of what she
must have endured and suffered. Alas ! alas ! unable to bear
the calamity that has befallen her, should she have perished by
her own hands ! Oh ! what horror is in the thought !
Dr. M. Do not fear that, Sir John. Joanna is a good, and
religious girl. No, no, she would not do that.
Sir J. Thank you, doctor, for those comforting words.
Thanks to you, also, that, under Heaven, restored me to
somewhat of my former strength — and have given me re-
newed energy, that I may hunt through the world for my
darling child, and punish the guilty wretch who has so ungrate-
fully, so vilely, repaid me for all the tender care that I for year3
have lavished on her.
Dr. M. Talk not so loudly, Sir John ; walls have ears, and
you know that you are dead, {smiling)
Sir J. Yes, yes ! When Charles Stanmore’s letter informed
us how Lisa was proceeding, you persuaded me to suffer you to
write to Lisa, that unable to endure longer, the shock I had
received from J oanna’s loss, I had suddenly expired. But it
seems to me a trifling with heaven, and I now regret having
yielded to the mockery.
Dr. M. Nonsense, my friend — our motive is good. Supposed
dead, you will now be enabled easily to unravel matters, that
otherwise might have continued inextricable. But, come, let
Sir J. I only want to find my poor Joanna ! Large as is the
us to our hiding place.
sum of which that jade, Lisa, has despoiled me — I have still
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
49
Sc. 5.
ample riches left. I can forget all — forgive everything — if once
again by Heaven permitted to hold my dear, lost darling to my
heart ! Exeunt r
SCENE EIGHTH. — Handsome Chambers, elegantly furnished
— -folding doors , c. — doors, R. 2 e. and L. 2 k.
Enter Lisa, hastily, r., an open letter in her hand.
Lisa. Dead, dead — he is dead ! Sir John Cleveland is dead,
and I am free from future danger — shall no longer live in fear,
Who shall now call me to account for that which I have done ?
Oh ! I shall henceforth walk abroad without that insupportable
weight at my heart — shall no longer tremble at every sound.
And Monti ! ha, ha, ha ! he has lost his power over me. Boldly
now, the slave may spurn her master !
Music — Monti hurries on, l.2e.
Monti. Now, Lisa, speak! Have 1 any more work to do?
Speak ! am I not relieving your path for you ? Do I scruple
or stop at anything ? Do I not wade through blood to serve
you?
Lisa. Blood!
Monti. Ay, blood ! The old lawyer is dead ! To save you,
I have slain him !
Lisa. Horrible !
Monti. What say you ? And was it not for you that I —
but never more — oh ! never more ! His glassy eyes, even now,
are staring into mine — his throat seems even now within
my hands — his death gurgle still ringing in my ear. Oh !
never more ! never more ! (sinking into chair ) Give me wine,
for I am heart-sick — no, not that, that cannot be, since I have
no heart — but brain-sick, almost to madness — and it’s no
wonder — for after all, I am but human ! No more blood ! no
more ! come what will, on Sir John Cleveland I will not lay
a finger.
Lisa. Sir John is already beyond your reach — he is dead.
Monti, (starting to his feet) Dead? how — when?
Lisa. ( giving him letter) Read, and learn how useless the
murder you have committed.
Monti, (having glanced over letter) Oh, curses, withering,
and eternal curses | on the madness that drove me to the deed.
Lisa. Ay ! Now, Monti, you are in my power ! ’Tis your
turn, now, to be a slave — you are at my mercy, and when you
fail sufficiently to cringe, and crawl before me, that instant I
denounce you— I give you to the scaffold !
E
50
WOMAN OF THE WOULD.
Act 2.
Monti. Fiend! fiend!
Lisa. No, I am simply that which you have made me — a
Woman of the World !
Monti. On the scaffold I shall never perish ! I am at all
times prepared ’gainst that. Revolt, endeavour to betray fne,
and it’s yourself that would ascend the scaffold. Have you
forgotten that in everything you have been my accomplice.
Did you not stand by, when in her mesmeric trance, Joanna
dropped the poison into her uncle’s drink? Is not Joanna,
now within my power— to be produced by me at any moment
I shall choose ? And is not the will still extant which makes
her heiress, which gives her all — and how would you then escape
the penalty of your robbery, if not, Sir John’s, of her wealth?
Lisa. I would die! It would but be a pang, and then
peace !
Monti. Peace, for you ! No, no, Lisa, you dare not die !
And I hare not yet told you all. The jewels which you bor-
rowed to lend to me, I have kept. You have given back to their
owners false ones which my skill enabled me to render undis-
tinguishable from the originals — I have but to proclaim that ,
and then, Lisa, what think you wonld your fashionable friends
say to their new found votary.
Lisa. Oh ! entrapped — entangled beyond all hope of extri-
cation.
Monti. Even so ! You see, you have not yet shaken off my
yoke— I am still your master — you are still my slave.
Lisa. No, Monti, no ; we will be equals — friends.
Monti. Friends ! psha ! I tell you, Lisa, I am, and will be
your master. Ah ! you thought, did you, that Sir John’s death
had freed you from my power — you were, you see, mistaken.
( ; grasping her arm) Down — down, then, to your knee, and
crave of me mercy and forgiveness. ( < forcing her down)
Lisa. ( breaking from him) No, I w r ill not ! I will no longer
live in thrall and dread — I will be free, or nothing — will de-
nounce you, though I die !
Monti. Ah! say you so? are you, indeed, so resolute? You
shall die, but not denounce me. I did not think to shed more
blood, but since you will have it so, why be it so. (drawing
small dagger)
Lisa. Ah, villain ! you have sealed your doom.
Music — Lisa is hurrying off \ l. — Monti pursues and brings her
back — they struggle — he seizes her by her hair and raises his
dagger to strike , when the folding doors are suddenly dashed
open , and discover Sir John and Dr. Meadows — Monti
and Lisa see Sir John — Monti drops the dagger , and both
stagger back , utterly appalled.
WOMAN OF THE WORLD.
51
Sc. 8.
Lisa, (l.) Living! he is living!
Monti, (u.) He has heard all — I am lost.
Sir J. Yes. atrocious villain ! yes, nought now remains for
you, except to die ; but, my Joanna — it can no further servo
\our hellish purpose now to keep her from me ; then give her
back to me — oh — give her once more to these doating arms.
Monti. Say, Lisa, shall it be so?
Lisa. No ; let me not in every way be baffled — I have lost
all else ; but, leave me, at least, revenge !
Monti. As I expected. Sir John, I cannot, if I would,
restore to you your neice — she has become the victim of the
Duke of Endell.
Sir J. Oh, infamy ! infamy and despair ; and I have caused
this ruin. But where is she ? tell me, do not keep from me the
hope to rescue, and avenge her.
Monti. Yain hope ; ere this she has quitted England.
Sir J. Oh, misery — misery !
Enter Charles Stanmore, hastily, l. 2 e.
Charles. Sir John — Sir John — take comfort — Joanna —
Sir J. Oh ! what of her ? speak ! in mercy, speak !
Joanna rushes on, l. 2 e.
J oanna. Here ! she is here, dear uncle.
Sir J. My darling ! she is mine again — again ! ( embrace )
Charles. Conducted by John Butts, that noble-hearted
fellow, I overtook the Duke of Endell, as he was about to bear
Joanna on board his yacht, rescued her, and left the duke
senseless on the ground ; and oh, sir, was it not a happy fate,
that it should be mine to rescue her, for she has forgiven me all
my former cruelty.
Sir J. Oh ! yes, yes — all must be forgiven, now I have ray
child again. Take her, Charles, take her. (Joanna goes to
Charles") I am so happy that 1 can pardon even thee, Lisa ;
but never let me see you more.
Lisa. I scorn your mercy. I am no longer the child you
tolerated in your sight, and condescended to rear, while all
your love was given to her. ’Twas your partiality which first
dropped envy into my heart — that vice was the parent of all
the others that have since found place within my soul — drove
me to him, ( pointing to Monti) who made me the wretch you
now behold me.
Joanna, {going to her) Lisa, I forgive you all — dear Lisa.
Lisa. Away ! I hate you now, as I have ever hated you.
From my childhood I have loathed you, for you ever stood
between me and the love I coveted. Curse — oh, curse you all.
52
WOMAN OF T1IE WORLD.
Act 2, '
(Joanna turns away shuddering ) But I have had some revenge
— 1 have rioted in what should have been you yours — have cast to
the winds your hoped-for wealth — ha, ha, ha ! I have not lost
all — the memory of that still is left to me — ha, ha, ha ! So now
do with me as you will, for I — I — ah ! ah !
(suddenly places her hand upon her heart , and falls hack into
the arms of Dr. Meadows, who hears her off, \ l. 2 e.
Sir J. Oh ! how little did I think that I was nourishing such
a viper in my bosom. For you, miscreant — •
Monti. For me — death ! but not upon the scaffold ! ( throws
phial to the ground ) I carry now my doom within me. The
stake I played for, I have lost, and so, farewell ! and do not
think I die repentant. No ! were the same to do again, I’d do
it. Now give me to the officers of the law, I shall not seek
to avoid them — a few minutes hence, and they can but secure
my corse. Exit, l.2l
Joanna. Oh, uncle! what mean these horrors?
Sir J. Hush, darling, hush !
Enter John Butts and Susan Jenkins, l. 2 e., arm in arm.
John. Oh, zooks and taters ! on’y let me get out of Lunnon
— and if ever I shews my nose in it again, I’m dommed !
Susan. Hush, John, hush ! you musn’t swear before ladies!
John. I don’t care ! Think o’ poor Miss Joanna ! There is
nout but villany in Lunnon. Susan’s been in the Siation-
house, and I’ve lost grandfeyther’s watch.
Sir J. Well, my brave fellow, to make you amends, you
shall have your farm rent free for the remainder of your
existence.
John. Eh? Shall I ? Oh, lord, Susan ! dost hear?
Susan. Yes, John, it penetrated to my olfactories.
John. Bent free! Oh, lord! rent free! he, he, he! Oh,
looks and taters !
Enter Doctor Meadows, r.
Dr. M. Lisa!
Sir J. What of her ? Speak !
Dr. M. She has burst a blood vessel — she is dead !
Sir J. Peace to her guilty soul ! Joanna, my darling, be
thankful that you are single minded, truthful, and loving, for
that is the right wisdom of heaven and of the heart — and she
who with religion, meekness, charity, and love, fulfils her
earthly mission — is the truest and wisest Woman of the
World.
Charles. Joanna. Sir John. $usan. John. Dr. M.
r. L.
CURTAIN.