f p -;vv fe K V A is? A HEADS v* C FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA, No. LXII. ... . ... OLD HEADS & YOUNG HEARTS 21 €omci>j) 'IN FIVE ACTS- BY DION BO U R C I C AU L % T. WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. NEW YORK: FRENCH, PUBLISHER 122 Nassau Street, (Up Stairs.) S A MUEL CHARACTERS. CAST OF Hay market ,1844. Walnut st.^ Phil. ^ 1847. Br oadtc ay, 1848. Karl oj Vompioni.. Mr. Tilbury Mr. A’Becket Mr. D. C. AndcrsoB Lord Roebuck .. “ H. Holl “ Smith 44 Dawson . Colonel Rocket ,.... “ Strickland 44 Spear 44 Vach6 Littleton Coke *.... “ C. Mathews “ Wheatly 44 Lester Tom Coke+ . “ Webster 44 Richings 44 Fleming Jesse Rural ....... 44 W. Farren 44 R. Blake 44 R. Blake Bob «*. 44 Buckstone 44 Chapman 44 lladaway Stripe jm . “ T. F. Mathews 44 Eberle % 44 G. Chapman Russell . 44 Carle 44 Huckurt 44 Gallot Countess of Pompion Mrs. W. Clifford Mr*. Blake Mrs. Winstanley ^Lady Alice.. . Madame Vestris Miss S. Cushman Miss Wallack Miss Rocket . • Miss Julia Bennett Mrs. Rogers Mrs. Sergeant COSTUMES. The Costumes are those of the present day . EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right ; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door, S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door RELATIVE POSITIONS. R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centre i L. C., Left of Centre, Passages marked t cilh Inverted Commas are usuculy emitted in the Representation . \v. \ Po r* ) » % S c4 or v O EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. Borcicault maybe considered to be the originator c f what has been very aptly designated as the 44 Upholstery School of Comedy,” in which the decorations and novel effects derivable from the appoint¬ ments and accessories, which modem improvement has introduced on the stage, form the prominent features of the piece. That the comedies of this author owe much of their success to these novel in¬ troductions, cannot be denied, but Borcicault also possesses the talent of infusing into his compositions a sparkling vivacity of dia¬ logue, a neatness in the construction of his plot, a knowledge of cha racter, drawn from a close observance of the follies and vices of our period, and a happy skill in the management of his incidents and situations; and by these united qualifications, he has succeeded in producing two or three comedies, that never fail to amuse and attrac audiences, aided as they are by the adornments of costly stage appoint uents. The chief defect, consider, in all Bor^icault’s productions, is th* ltter heartlessness that pervade his pictures of modern manners. His epigrammatic wit, and his polished keenness of satire, seem to revel m representing the most selfish characteristics of modern fashionable society. . The exclusiveness of this society, perhaps, exposes it to the censure of the satirist; and the Dramatic writer, whose province it ia to 44 shoot folly as it flies,” may be pardoned if he faithfully represents the classes, from which he draws the originals of his fictitious crea¬ tions. He may draw from these equivocal fountains large draughts of wit and humour, and he may excite the risibilities of his audiences, with displays of his peculiar genius: but we humbly conceive that the brightest flaslios of his wit, will be wanting in that other essential element of true Dramatic wit—Poetry, while the moral influence of such exhibitions of real life, in a Dramatic form, is deleterious in ite effects on an audience. We are not so visionary in our theories as to look to the stage for any high code of morals, although we believe such might be its legitimate province; yet we contend that the stage is a school where a pure and correct taste maybe cultivated; aud IV EM TO RIAL INTRODUCT1 )N. we hold it to be a perversion of good taste, to present li/e as being one unbroken link of heartless frivolity and polished insincerity, as Bor^icault delights in picturing it. Nor can we admit he fidelity of his portraits of character, amusing as we confess tl ey are in the representation. They seem rather to owe their existence to the ex aggerated delineations with which modern fiction abounds; the cha¬ racters are, in fact, copies from fashionable novels, and not transcripts from nature. The stage has lost its original influence over the intel¬ lectual and the fashionable classes, so that its power for good or evil has become nearly extinct. The mass cf play-goers view the enter¬ tainment derivable from the theatre as a mere amusement, a relaxa¬ tion from daily toil, and prescribed duty ; and the author that can most effectually interest, amuse, or excite an audience for the pass¬ ing hour, becomes the popular idol of the day. We have no desire to impeach the taste of the public, but we do object to men of genius fostering the frivolous spirit of the age, and, what is more reprehen¬ sible, disseminating through the powerful instrumentality of the Drama, a false code of morals, calculated to undermine all the social t virtues of life. We look upon “ Old Heads and Young Hearts” to be the most open J-o censure, of any of Boi^icault’s productions. The leading charac¬ ters are nearly all of them high drawn satires on humanity. Littleton Coke is a mere blcisi man of fashion, a spendthrift, a sneerer, and a scoffer; even his love for Lady Alice Haivthome is but a com¬ pound of selfishness and cupidity; and her witty ladyship is but a slight remove from a heartless and frivolous coquette. The British Peerage, we trust, could never have furnished the pro¬ totypes of Lord and Lady Pompion; and Col. Rocket is too ignorant and too coarse to be considered as even slightly to resemble any officer of rank, that was ever gazetted in the army list. Lord Roebuck is an inanity, save in his disregard of filial duty; on this point he bears the infallible brand of the author. Miss Rocket is a fitting counterpart of her lover, and Bob is the stereotyped lying, impudent valet of the stage, with all the heartlessness and selfishness of his master, which he wears as he does the second-hand clothes that be¬ come his perquisites. Apart from this group stand out Tom Cokt and Jesse Rural; they are intrusted with the sentiment of the comedy, or, rather, they are the author’s exponents of the morality of the piece. Tom is made a sort of untutored country boor, is crossed in his affections, and jeered at by his fashionable spendthrift of a brother; and Rural is a simple-hearted aged clergyman, on whom all the plots EDIT O III A L INTRODUCTION. V Mid counterplots of the comedy is made to revolve; ho is l iited and ridiculed through five acts for the amusement of the audience, and ij at last driven almost to madness, to heighten the effect of the final climax. Such a clergyman as Jesse Rural is depicted, should never have been selected for exhibition on the stage, under the degrading cir cumstances Bor^cault has thought fit to introduce him. But with all these exceptionable points in this comedy, it is popular as an acting play. The language is sprightly, witty, and pointed, the inci dents are highly dramatic, and the constant succession of equivoquie, keep interest alive from the rising to the falling of the curtain. “ Old Heads and Young Hearts” has been peculiarly successful in this country, chiefly from the admirable personation of Jesse Rural by Mr. W. R. Blake, the present manager of the Broadway Theatre. This gentleman had acquired a wide-spread celebrity in Philadelphia and Baltimore, for his inimitable performance of the part; and on his assuming the stage management of the Broadway, the comedy was revived with every attention to its details, and had a'continuous run of sixteen nights, to crowded and delighted audiences. Mr. Blake’s embodiment of Jesse Rural , may be classed among the finest histrionic efforts now extant upon the stage. It is, indeed, one of those truthful pieces of acting, in which the artist is almost identi ¬ fied with the character he represents. We cannot corceive anything more tme to nature, both in appearance and acting, than is the per sonation of this character in the hands of Mr. Blake. H « OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS. ACT I. Scene I.— The Temple. The Interior of Littleton Coke's Chambers, meagrely furnished. Coke is discovered at breakfast, reading the paper. Bob, cleaning a Meer¬ schaum, it. Lit. [Reads.} Express from China—um—urn—police —um—fashionable arrivals. Ha !—at Mivart’s, Lord Charles Roebuck, from Paris—mv schoolfellow and cob lege chum—perhaps he has written to me—Bob ! Bob. Sir. Lit. Any papers for me this morning ? Bob. Yes, sir; one for the income tax. Lit. Do we pay that, Bob? Boh. No, sir, I wish we did. Lit. (i..) \ Rising, and coming forward.] How comes it, that during five years’ hard labour at the bar, I never have had any thine to do ? Bob. Yes, sir; law is quite as unprofitable to us now, as it would be to our clients, if we had any. Lit. Have I not angled daily in Westminster Flail? Bob. While I carried after you a red bag, fat with you unpaid bills, like a landing net. Lit. Without a nibble.—[ Half apart.] I could almc x repent that nature had not left me in the insignificance of my birth. What right had the son of a hard-working Yorkshire coal-owner to flaunt it at Eton and Oxford, and all because my mother, before my birth, dreamed of a woolsack, and so would call me Littleton—and yet. while my suppers and stables were declared unique— when tufted lordlings exchanged Christian names with me—I though 1 - —ha!—I see my error—mistook my mo- 8 OLD HEA jIS [Ac r ney for myself-—why was I given so keen a sense for en¬ joyment, and so limited a power of gratifying it ] Bob. But your father, at his death, sir, left you 700Z. a-year. Bit. To support 7000 appetites he bequeathed me at my birth; so, unfortunately, through life my wants have ever exceeded my means. Bob. Ah, sir, but wants are the servants of genius. Lit. Say its masters, rather. Bob. Your brother in Yorkshire is rich. * Lit. Thanks to my extravagance that made him so; I have mortgaged every acre of mv land to him. Bob.. If you were to write to him, sir. Lit. I have done so; Postman's knock , l.] there’s the tnswer. [Exit, Bob, l.] It was my last resource. Re-enter Bob, l. Bob. [ Weighing the letter.} It feels promising, sir. Lit . [ Opens and reads.} “ Dear brother Littleton—Your favour of the 21 st ultimo has duly come to hand—am most happy to find you have not forgot Sykes Hall , and those in it. Tabby sends her love , and the Rev. Mr. Rural his blessing—the collieries rein fairly — corn is at 50 s. and mut¬ ton is looking up ; and I am your affectionate brother , “ Thomas Coke.” Bob. Lord, sir ! Lit. “ Postscript.—As to your debts, I can neither afford to gtve champagne suppers to your friends, nor pay for the spavined horses they have to sell you ; had you moderated your vanity in the. entertainment of a pack of spunging spendthrifts, you had not now to stoop your pride to a set of honest tradesmen .” [Tears up the letter.} I deserved it: let him keep his gold. Bob. They say he is generous enough on occasion. Lit. Oh, yes! [Bitterly] Builds charity schools and endows lying-in hospitals, while his own flesh and blood may rot in a jail ! Curse his generosity ! his is all news¬ paper charity and mouth virtue. Yes, 1 will apply to my friend : Bob, did you take that note to Lord St. James 1 Bob. Yes, sir; I found him at Mr. Deuceace’s. Lit. [ Half apart.] It was but for 20Z. Well, where is his answer] SCEJ5E l.j AND YOUNG HEARTS. 9 Bob. He sent down his compliments, that he was goi e to Florence. hit. The paltiy—here’s a fellow, now, who used to swallow my dinners and jokes in sunny times, to take away at the first post. Bob. Yes, sir, swallows always were summer birds. Lit. No impertinence ! [A double knock , L. Bob. [ChopJ'alien. ] Are you at home, sir? Lit. Yes. [Exit Bob , l.J Home ! mine is a sarcasm on the word. Re-enter Bob, l. Bob. Lord Charles Roebuck, sir. [Bob retires up, l. Enter Lord Charles Roebuck, l. and crosses to c. Lit. Charles, my dear fellow. [Shaking his hand . Roe. The same as ever—I can almost believe myself at college again—and Bob, too— Bob. Yes, my lord, promoted from gyp to lawyer’s clerk. Roe. It seems but a month ago since I roasted you for courting my bed-maker—do you remember? Bob. Remember ! your lordship tied me along a form before the fire, went one, and forgot me. Roe. You found that night’s roasting a cure for love, eh ? Well, I’ll remember you this time : there is a plaster for your [Gives him a note, J sore memory—vanish ! Bob. Never mind, you may want me again if you like. [Looks at money — exit, L. Lit. Why, your long residence in Paris has transmuted you from a model for young England, into the type of ieune Franc 0 . Some time since we parted at Alma Ma¬ ter. Roe. Three years; I, started immediately for Paris, where my brother was ambassador plenipotentiary; my father wished me to graduate in diplomacy under his able surveillance. Lit . And your respected sire, the Home Secretary ? Roe. I have not seen the Earl since my return. Lit. How ? Roe No ! to be candid with you, I’m in a scrape, so I naturally hastened to you. 10 OLD HEADS [Act 1. Lit. i have, at your service, a stock of advice, gene¬ rously subscribed by my friends when 1 revealed to them the bottom of my purse—proceed. Hoc. The most ancient of maladies. Lit. Oh, love ? Roc. To distraction. Lit. Howl vulgarly, with a woman—or fashionably, with yourself? Roc. Listen and judge. Ten days ago, as, in obedience to my father’s mandate, I was on my route from Paris— my chariot was arrested on the Dover Road, by a spill illustrated with oaths and screams. Lit. Heroics—by Jove ! Roc. Post-boy whipping—horses kicking—old gentle¬ men cursing—young lady screaming and fainting alter¬ nately. Lit. Lucky dog! Roc. I disengaged the senseless fair, threw off her bon¬ net, and unveiled a face—oh, Coke, such a face ! she gasped for breath. Lit. You lent her some of yours ? Roc. I did—but she relapsed again. Lit. Naturally—so you kept her alive by repeated ap¬ plication ? Roc. ’Till her father came up. Lit. She recovered, then ? Roc . Immediately—he thanked me, tucked my angel under his arm, they re-entered the righted vehicle, and drove on. Lit. Is that all ? Roc. Forbid it, Venus—no—with incredible trouble I traced them. The father—the dragon who guards this Hesperian fruit, is an old East-Indian Colonel, as proud as Lucifer, and as hot as his dominions—I hovered round the house for a week. Lit. Successfully ? Roe. I saw her once for a second at the hack garden gate. Lit. To speak to her ? Roc. T hadn’t time. Lu No?—Oh! Roe. Na So I gave her a kiss-*- Scene 1 ] AND YOUNG HU A UTS. 11 Lit. Excellent economy ! and her name— Roc. Is Rocket—her father, an eccentric old bully, turns his house into a barrack—mounts guard at the hall- door—the poor girl can’t move without a sentry, and I believe her lady’s maid is an old one-eyed corporal of ar¬ tillery. Lit . Is she rich ? Roc. She is fair. Lit. Possibly—a thing to be admired in a danscusc or a friend’s wife ; but in the matrimonial stocks, done on our Western ’change, the fairest hue we recognise is yellow Roc. Does virtue go for nothing I Lit. Oh ! no ; character is indispensable to servant maids, but virtue, as a word, is obsolete ; we have, indeed, a French one like it, vertu , yes—ladies of vertu might sig¬ nify articles of rarity. Roc. Does the lexicon of fashion, then, abjure the sense? Lit. Certainly not; virtue signifies the stren gth in a bottle of salts. Roe. And vice ! Lit. A—a fault in horses. Roc. And religion ? Lit. A pew in a fashionable church! Roe. So’twould appear that beauty is invested in bank stock; grace consolidated with the landed interests; while reputation fluctuates with the three and a half po.» cents. Lit. Exactly ; gold is the Medean bath of youth, pos¬ sessing also a magnetic attraction for every cardinal vir¬ tue, while all the plagues of Egypt are shut up in one English word, and that is poverty; the exhibition of which, like that of the Gorgon’s head, turns the hearts of your dearest friends to stone. Roc. Can May Fair legislation so repeal the laws of na¬ ture I by Jove ! the West end at last will cut the sun be¬ cause it rises in the east, and live by wax light . Lit. You, perhaps, may never see the world as I do, Charles, because I am poor; but a rich man’s view of life is bounded by his parasites—he feels but through hi glove, and thinks all things are soft. Rod. Then I am lost, for my angel is pennyless. 12 01 ) HEADS I 'Act i Lit. Right, angels arc the only thii gs who can '/e poor and lovely ; but to marry thus before you have given the worshipful company of mamma brokers a chance, is against all rule. Roc. Would you have me marry a thing whose mind is bounded by her bonnet, a soul perfumed with foreign sentiment—as guiltless of old English virtues as her* tongue is of their native names. No! I’ll have a heart that beats with blood—a cheek that’s red with it—and be no slave :>f such a thing of scent and paint—but strike one blow for love and human nature. Lit. Oh, you luxurious dog! f Shaking his hand.] Oh —h ! if 1 could only afford to marry a woman instead of a banker’s account—but what obstacles oppose your epi¬ curean iutentions towards Miss Rocket? Roc. 1 hear my father intends for me the double honour of a seat in the house, and a wife—my cousin, Alice, the wealthy young widow of Lord George Hawthorn. Lit. Lady Alice—who shook the very apathy of the opera last week, by demanding to be balloted into the omnibus box ! Roe. Such a wife—why do they not give her a com¬ mission in the blues, at once ? Lit. She flashed into our fashionable system like a new comet, whose eccentricity defied all known law, and quickly drew after her a train that obliterated all the con¬ stellations of St. James’s, and the heavenly bodies of May fair. Roe. You know her, then? Lit. A Polka acquaintanceship! I’ve been introduced to her waist;—we know each other in the house of our mutual friends—but of what use can. I be here ? Roe. The greatest. My father has arranged my no¬ mination for Closeborough, I shall be obliged to advocate his political principles in the house, to which party old Rocket is a virulent opponent. Lit. What’s to be done ? Roc. Oppose my father—and thus—oblige me by op¬ posing my election, and I will answer for your success. “ Lit. Ha ! ha ! help me to your borough—why, you “ rascal, would you make the Home Secretary purchase 4 in a talented member for the opposition ? Sceft: I.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 13 “ Roe. Consent.” Lit. With all my heart; I see but one obstacle—the qualification ! Roe. The thiee hundred a-year—that’s true—stay— Coke, at Eton, you were considered a fellow of great pluck. Lit. You flatter. Roe. You look tenacious of life. Lit. Ha ! Roe. I’ll make you a present of the widow. Lit. Lady Alice ? Roe. If she have not, ere this, volunteered to Morocco Dr Macao. Lit. Charles, to oblige you I accept the borough—fo your sake I’ll encounter the widow and the five thousand a-year. Bob rushes in , l. Boh. Sir—sir—they are come— Lit. They—who? Boh. Two of the fattest clients, sir, you ever saw. Lit. Clients—you are mad, or a fool. . Boh. Neither, sir—but I think they are both. Lit. Stay—come here. Bob—[ Boh crosses to Little¬ ton ,] what are they like ? Boh. One, sir, is a very respectable old gentleman in black, white hair— Lit. Scriven, the attorney and money lender. The other? Boh. A responsible—sort of—sporting character. Lit. Craft, the bailiff—I’m ruined! [ Grosses to l. Roe. What’s the debt ? perhaps I— Lit. No, Charles—to be honest with you—my hopes are too slender to bear an obligation. I’m as low in pride, now, as I am in pocket, and cannot afford to turn a friend into a creditor. Boh. They arc just on this landing, sir. Roe. Come with me. I can offer you a room at my father’s ’till your election is over. Boh. Step inside, sir; while they come in, you can go out by the other door. Lit. Farewell, fond visions of the woolsack : Bob, give up my chattels, let them take possession. J4 OLD HEADS k \CT I Bob . All right, sir; a table, two chairs, a heel, and a boot-jack. [Exeunt at the back, c.. followed by Bob. After a pause, knocking is heard, l. Enter Rural, l. Rut. Littleton ! Littleton ! Litt — eh ! —bless me, no¬ body ! Toni, come in. Enter Tom Coke, l. Tom . I’m here, minister ; so these be brother Little* ton’s chambers—well, they don’t look prodigal, neither. Rur . No, no, but where is he ? Tom . And they ca’ this the Temple, eh ? It ’ll be moire loike a coil hoile aboove ground than owt else a knaw ; well, minister, you would coome up to town wi’ me ; here we are—what next 1 Rur . My dear boy, I know that you feel an old man like me a burthen on you—now you are a great man, a member of parliament. Tom. That’s onkind of you, minister, and you’re not given to say cruel things ; why, isn’t your face the very first thing in the world I can remember ? haven’t you been a father to us since we were left orphans ? a bur¬ then ! that’s the hardest word you spoke since you taught us catechesm wi brother Littleton sitting on one knee and I on t’oother. Rur. Think of that, Tom, do; and to see you united again is my prayer. Tom . But wha couldn’t yaw wait until we had set down quietly in the Earl of Pompion’s house, according to his invitation 1 ’Twas main kind of him, minister; he’s the Home Secretary, and the next post after I was made member o’ Parliament, brought me a hearty invitation to his house : that’s hospitality. Rur. But where is Littleton 1 Tom. I’ll tell ye :—in bed, sleeping off his last night’s debauch, or wi’ flushed and haggard cheek, still Icaring over the gambling table. Note.—T he language used by Tom Coke is written in a broad dialect, to distiti- guisli the character, but should be acted with an accent only; and in Provincial Theatres, sho ild net be given to the gentleman psrfonning Yorkshircineh* but U>ti.oes he? then Charley’s occupation’s gone Scene l.J AND YOUNG HKARTS. 19 indeed. But apropos , Georgy ; what fun 1 had with your old Earl last night at Almack’s—ha ! ha ! ha ! Lady P. My old Earl! Lccd/y A. He came in, thawed with a decent dinner; the premier’s Steinburg had given the cadavre a bloom* ’pon my life he talked impudence to me. Lady P. The Earl of Pompion ! Lady A. It would have delighted you to watch such signs of restored animation. A knot of politicians nad nearly secured him—politics at Almack’s—I darted in in amongst them, crying “ treason,” seized Pompey him¬ self, and whirled him into the most delirious polka. [Hums a polka . Lady P. A polka ! Lady A. Toe and heel, as I’m a widow and a sinner, we threw Jullien into extacies, till I restored the Home Secretary to his party, a wiser and a better man. Enter Lord Pompion, c., from l. down l. Didn’t I, Pompey? Lord P. Lady Alice, et tous jours gaie, where’s my coun tess ? Lady A. Not up yet, look ! [ Points to Lady Pompion, who is pulling her Spaniel's ears. J or stay, she is making Bichon’s toilette. Lord P. I forgot to mention that I expect Mr. Coke, of Yorkshire, on a visit: he has lately been returned for Ashby, and I want his interest and a loan to secure Charles for Closeborough—we must show him attention. Lady P. Very well, write down his name, and I T ] send it to the housekeeper. Lady A. Long live old English hospitality! Lord P. He has some of his family with him. Lady P . They can have the britzska, and you muet manage something for their Opera—leave it to the house¬ keeper. Lady A. Talking of visitors, I have invited a couple to you. Lady P. To us ! Lady A. Yes—Colonel Rocket and his daughter old friends of mine—my honhonniere in Brook Street only holds me and my plagues, but, fortunately, having a card 20 OLD HEADS [Act II of yours in my case, I thought how glad you’d be. I men¬ tioned six as your dinner hour. Don’t be anxious—they’ll be here in a minute. Lord P. How rash—he may be of the opposition. Lady A. An East India Director, with two boroughs. \Aside ] Rabbit ones. Lord P. Is the girl presentable ? Lady A. Met them at Devonshire House— Lord P. Two boroughs ! my dear Alice, you are rash, but you mean well. Lady P. Of course I do—only think of two boroughs, Pompey. [ Aside .] A half-pay colonel, with less interest than a treasury clerk, but a glorious old fellow. I’ll bet he’ll kiss the Countess in a week—what fun ! f Lady Alice and Lord Pompion retire up stage , c. Enter a Servant, l. Ser . Lord Charles Roebuck. Enter Roebuck, followed by Littleton Coke, l. Roe . My dearest mother! Lady P. Ah ! Charles, how d’ye do, dear? [Lifts her eye-glass.] Bless me, how brown you’re grown—for hea¬ ven’s sake, take care of Bichon, there. [Shakes his hand over the dog.] Have you brought me the Eau de Cologne ? Roe. Yes, everything—but, my dear mother— Lady P. Dear—how old he looks for a son of mine. Lord P. But undoubtedly improved— [Advances on the l. Roe. My dear father, forgive me! [Offering both his hands. Lord P. [Regarding him.] A Pompion, decidedly. Lady P. Tell me, Charles, your Italian is Roman—and —ah ! I see you wear Bouquet du Roi . I understand that esprit d' Isabella was the court scent at the Tuilleries, just now. Lord P. Of course your present appearance is the re¬ mains of a diplomatic compliment to the Court of Versail les—very judicious— Lady P. I trust, Charles, you have picked up no foreign immoralities—I mean, you goto church sometimes; w have a pew at St. George’s—and, apropos, have glace eilks gone out yet, in Paris ] Scene I.] AND ifOUNG HEARTS. 21 Roe. Really, dearest mother, I didn’t notice. Lady P. Ah ! boys are so thoughtless. Lord P. You don’t make yourself remarkable in dress or equipage, Charles? Lady P. I hope you have no penchant for liaisons with public people or unmarried women, dear? Lord P. Every notoriety, which is not political, is hurt¬ ful. Lady P. I trust you don’t swear, Charles—I mean in English ; and excuse the anxiety of a mother — you con¬ tinue to use the almond paste I wrote to you about ? Lord P. Apropos—you’ll find in my room a list of the doubtful ones of our party, so that you may know where to lose your money, at Crockford’s—of course, you will not enter any of the lower gaming clubs—and, by the bye —be cool to Vernon. Roe. My dear father—my schoolfellow, Dick Vernon, once saved my life. Lord. P. Possibly—but he voted against us on the Bar- badoes Bill, and he has talked of conscientious principles, and in presence of the Premier—in short—he was omit¬ ted in the Premier’s dinner yesterday—of course, you speak German? Lady P. Do you bet? Lady A. Do you Polk? Roe. Blest voice—surely—it is— Lady A. Your cousin Alice—how are you, Charley. He hesitates.] all right—go on— \Roe. crosses to her.] I’m luinan nature ! [He kisses her. What’s your friend’s name ? we are acquainted, I know,—but I can’t recollect who he is ! Roe. [Aside.] Coke—I had almost forgetten him—what can he think of my cold reception ; how frigidly they will receive him—I am fairly ashamed to— [Brings Coke down on the l. c.] My lord and lady, mother, allow me, Mr. Coke. Lord P. Coke! of Yorkshire ? [Crosses to LittleUn. Lit. Yes. Lord P . Ashby ? Lit. The same. Lord P . [Heartily.] My dear sir, I’m delighted to see you ! [Shaking him by both hands.] delighted ! this is an 22 OLD HEADS Act II unexpected pleasure, to find in you a friend of my son’s allow me—the Countess—Mr. Coke, of Ashby. Lady A. Mr. Coke, of Ashby! Take care of Biclion lia ! ha ! Roe. Mr. Coke—Lady Alice Hawthorn, with whom the whole world is in love. Lady A. Speak for yourself, sir. [Speaks aside with Coke.—Lady Pompion sounds a gong , and a Servant enters , l., who unwraps her feet and ivraps the dog in the shawl. Lordl P. You will excuse me, Mr. Coke—the business of the nation—till dinner, eh? sans adieu! [Shakes his hand .] Charles, I can spare you a moment; follow me to my study. [ Crosses , L., and exit. Lady A . Adieu, Charles ! au plaisir, Mr. Poke—by, bv, Alice. Lady A. Adieu, Bichon. t/ 7 [Exit Lady Pompion, r., folloived by the Servant car¬ rying the dog. Roe. What can this mean? Coke received with such fervour—and this—this is my return, after three years’ absence! well! - [Going, l. Lady A. (r.) I say, Charley, are glace silks out in Paris ? Roe. By heaven ! Lady A. Ah ! ah ! 1 hope you don’t swear—I mean in English! ah! ah! ah! [Exit Roebuck, l. — Aside.] So! a pair of recruits to my staff! Lit. [Aside.] And this glorious creature is the deadly widow whom Roebuck gives up without a sigh. [A pause. Lady A. Well, Mr. Coke, if you have nothing droll to say, give us your maiden speech; on what question do you come out. Lit. To love, or not to love ! Lady A. I’ll settle that—to love—carried, eh ? Lit. Without a division. [Kisses her hand. Lady A. [Aside.] Hang the fellow’s impudence.—Well, if you can’t say something funny, make me cry; I haven’t cried since my marriage, except with laughing. You are on a visit here, eh ? you will dnd it a horrid bore. Lit. I can view it only as a paradise at present; wher your ladyship leaves it, I may see m it a desert. Scene I.] AND l'O; NG HEARTS. % 23 Lady A. Are you an old friend of my (cusin’s? Lit. Lord Charles and I entered Eton on the same day, and never parted for nine years—I may say we are brothers. Lady A. I have a secret with which I mean to elec¬ trify the old folks here—I want a partner in the scheme —can 1 trust you ? Lit. With your whole heart. Lady /l. Miss Rocket, a friend of mine, is in love with my cousin Charles here—don’t stare !—I found it out, and have asked her on. a visit. Lit. To supplant yourself!—why, the Earl sent for Roe¬ buck home, to—expressly—to—marry you. Lady A. Me ! oh, the old fox ! Ha ! ha ! so, so !—so much the better; I’ll teach him to keep his intrigues with¬ in Whitehall.-—To begin, then, let’s be friends. Lit. Ah ! beware, Lady Alice! the friend of a young and lovely woman'should have sixty years, at least, and holy orders for his qualification. Lady A. Young man, take my advice; a woman never likes her lover to be more careful of her character than she is herself, or too provident in his heart’s economy; your sex arrogates too much on the solitary advantage which nature has given it over ours. Lit. What is that? Lady A. You are born without reputation.—What club owns you ? Lit. None ! Lady A . Right—allow neither your opinions nor your society to be dictated to you ;—what clique claims you ? Lit . Only one— [Aside.] the Queen’s Bench,— [Aloud.] but they are too exclusive and confined for me. Lady A. You love liberty? Lit. As a mistress likely to be lost. Lady A. You are a man after my own heart. Lit. I am, and I trust soon to come up with it. Lady A. What is the world ? Lit. A gentler synonym for vice in town. Lady A. It seems to me that your sex is capable of but two characters—selfish politicians or reckless gamesters. Did modern chivalry erect new orders, one half r.obility would range under the folds of a minister’s table cloth* while the other would canonize Orockford. 24 OLD HEADS [Act It 9 Lit. Fair play, Lady Alice, or I mus: assert my sex. Lady A. A challenge ! tell me, as this sex of yours has adopted every effeminacy of soul in its desire to change genders with ours, when will you assume the fan and fla- con ? Lit . When ladies who have already engrafted the whip on the parasol, revel in tops and inconceivables. Lady A. Women must adopt your habits, if left at home to exercise those duties of husbands which you are per¬ forming in every house but your own. Lit. At home ! are ladies ever “ at home,” except, in¬ deed, when under that pretext they invite the world to see their houses turned out of doors. Lady A. To exhibit a satire upon men who regard ma¬ trimony as a ministerial sinecure. Lit. [Half apart .] The duties of which are only known to the deputy. Lady A. True; men, whose friendship means a design against a wife’s heart, and whose honor only retains its existence for the convenience of swearing by :—spirit, re¬ presents to them but a contempt of morality ; while to pay, has reference to nothing but visits. Lit. Ahem ! [Aside. ] she’s becoming personal. Lady A. Aha! [Aside.] that hit him in the conscience. Lit. Were I a woman, such a contemplation of society would almost drive me to suicide. Lady A. A fashionable alternative and genuine French. I’ve thought of it—but decided on not doing the w r orld the honour of cutting it. Lit. [Aside.] What a gorgeous creature. Can I believe that such an angel could ever be my property ? Lady A. Now you are puzzling whether to propose to me next week or the one after—delay it. Meanwhile, make most of your lime. I’ll send you a voucher for Al- mack’s—I’m a patroness, you know—here’s my polka card—let’s see ; I’m engaged for the 1st, 5th, 9th, and 17th. [Sits on Ottoman, r. Lit. Put me down for all the rest. Enchantress, you divine my very heart. by her. Lady A. What wonder, when you are going to sw r ear that I possess it. XAt. Ridicule me, if j^ou will. Yes, I confess it, I cam*? Scene I J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 25 • here to see you—to woo you—perhaps to mock—be mer 3 iful, for, see— [Sits on the Ottoman at her feet.\ I remain to pray. Lady A. [Opening his hand and applauding on it with her own , as she eyes him through her glass. ] Bravo—net Pad—get up now, there’s a dear man. I promise not to flirt with any one else for one calendar week—there, don’t be vain; I once patronized a boy in the guards for two days, and now he won’t enter the pit of the opera, during an aria, for fear of engaging the attention of the house. Lit. [ Seizes her handi\ Torturess— [ Pauses . Lady A. Go on. Lit. [Looking at her hand .] You leave it in mine ] Lady A. Certainly, till you have kissed it— [Littleton kisses her hnnd .— They come forward .] Hang the fellow, he does not think I’m gone so far in love with him as to snatch it away. Lit. I know not what to think, but this I know, that I’m the happiest wretch you ever doomed to misery. Enter Colonel Rocket, c. Rock. Aha, my little congreve—I’ve been looking for you everywhere. * Lady A. So, Colonel, I proved a sort of invisible shell, eh ] [ Grosses , c. Rock. Only twice as mischievous ; 1 do believe one like you would unman a whole fleet. Ah ! your friend in the army ] Lady A. On my own staff! Colonel Rocket—Mr. Coke. [Rocket crosses to Coke. Rock. Coke ! any relation to Cook, of the 23rd ] no ! ah ! sorry for it! brave fellow—cut in two by a chain shot at Pullinabad, was knocked down by his top half myself —gallant fellow—bought 1 is kit for 100 rupees. Lady A. Where’s Kate ? Rock. I picqueted her m the >iall with the baggage— happy to make you acquainted, sir,—brought her up for a soldier’s wife—perfect in her facings as a light company, and can manoeuvre a battalion with any adjutant in the sei vice; look at her walk, thirty inches regulation pace— head up—left leg forward—perfection ! that’s the way !»/■ put a gill into the hands of a husband, sir. [Crosses. L 26 OLD HEADS [Act Ii Lady A, [Aside to Littleton .] She twists the old fell(A\ round her finger like a purse ! [Miss Rocket screams without. Rock. Hollo ! that’s her discharge—she is retiring up or. '?\er supports. Lady A. Here she comes, as wild as game in July. Rock. Observe how steady she will file in—right wheel Miss Rocket runs in c., her bonnet hanging on her neck. Kale. He’s here—I saw him—I— Rock. Hollo ! fall in—halt—the devil—discipline ! Kate. Yes, my dear father, presently—but I believe be lives in this very house. Rock. Report yourself, who l Kate. The gentleman who kissed—I mean, who assist¬ ed me when w’e were upset— he rushed up to me in the hall here —and I was so—I screamed—I—here he is. Enter Roebuck, c. Roc. Can I believe my eyes ? [Aside, seeing Rocket.] old Chili vinegar, by Jove ! Rock. Steady, Kate—stand at'ease—now 7 , sir, might I ask why, sir,—you—you—damme, sir—why do you drive in my picquet in this way 1 Roe. Really—sir—I—I— Lady A. [Advancing, r.] Permit me, Colonel, to intro¬ duce to you Lord Charles Roebuck, son of the Ear] of Pompion, who is too happy in being your host. Rock. Sir, your hand. No apology, enough, I accept the quarters. Roebuck, in the army—no !—any relation to Rover, of the 81st, retired on full pay and two wooden legs, after Nepaul ] No ! no matter—my daughter, Kate Rocket—Bombay Cavalry. Roe. Allow me to apologise. [Aside.] Whom have I to thank for this ] [Grossing to Kate. Lady A. [Aside.] Me ! Pm in the secret—she has con¬ fessed all to me—I invited them here—am I not an angel ] Roc. [Aside.] A divinity ! How do you find Coke ? Lady A. As impudent as an heiress ! Roe. My father mistook him for his brether, whose ai« rival ha@ rectified the error—I have left him closeted with the Earl. [Goes up to Mist Rocket. SceneL] AND YOUNG HEARTS 27 Lady A. Now. Colonel, to introduce you to Lady Pern pj )n—your arm ? Takes Hockeys arm. Rock Kate, present arms to our host, and follow. Lady A. Executed with wonderful dispatch. Rock. Discipline! [Roebuck and Miss Rocket, in earnest tete-a-tete , gt up, it. Lady A. Only they are marching without orders. Rock. Hollo! halt—attention! [They go out, c., still con versing, icithout apparently hearing him .J It’s nothing—a mere manoeuvre—but we musn’t club the battalion. We only constitute the reserve, instead of the advance—a cle¬ ver movement of Kate’s ? Lady A. Very— Rock. What we call a diversion. Lady A. Yes, very diverting indeed—ha ! ha ! [ Exeunt, e. Lit. So now, fate, I’m thy worshipper forever—do with me what you will:—this morning I arose without hope ; my belief in hearts was restricted to the thirteen in a pack of cards—and here I am, in a few hours, domiciled in Grosvenor Square, with expectations beyond a new rail¬ way company. Enter Jesse Rural, c. Strange, too—hum ! Rur. They tell me Littleton is here—in this house—if I could only—this gentleman, perhaps, might—pray, sir? Lit. [ Throwing himself in a chair , n.] Come what may to Thomas Coke, I’ll never sign myself a brother. Rur. Thomas Coke ! let me look—[ Takes out his spec tacles tremblingly^] yes, yes, it is he—it is—he stares at me—he won’t know me now. Lit. What a strange old gentleman ! Rur. I tremble to—to—ask him ; if he should meet me as a stranger—or—how altered he is—in form :—perhaps he’s changed in— Lit. [Starting up ] By heaven ! I know that face. Riir. Mr. Coke—I—ventured—I—vou don’t forget your tutor—friend—Jesse Rural. Lit. [Running to him and taking both his hands.] Foi get you ! may Heaven forget me when I do 1 28 OLD HEADS [Act II Rur Ha! ha! ha! [Embracing him .] bless you, my child—vxod bless you ! I knew it—I knew you wouldn’t ■—no—let me look at you—yes—it is you ! Lit. Tell me, how came you here, in town, and in this house? R ur . Tom came up to Parliament—you know he is member now for Ashbv. Lit. [Aside.] Ha ! that accounts, then, for the Eail’s warm welcome—mistook me for him. Rur, So I accompanied him to town. Lit. And he is in this house? Rur. Yes, he is dressing- for dinner. I heard that you were here, and could not contain myself—came to bring you to him; he is unaware of your presence. Lit. What, creep on my knees to his purse like a pro¬ digal son ! In what have I injured him? He lias my land, T. wrote to offer to sell him the mortgages he held— he refused me. Rur. The same wild violent spirit he always had—just the same, ha! ha! Littleton, listen to me, my dear boy; Tom loves you, you don’t know him. When we went to your chambers this morning— Lit. You, you! [Aside. ] it must have been them whom Bob announced, and I mistook—for Scriven and Craft. Rur . Tom was prepared to forgive you. Lit. Forgive ! ’tis I who claim that office. [Crosses, l. Rur. Ha ! he ! there he flies out again—the dear boy ! Lit. Bet him ask my pardon !—I entreat you will not attempt a reconciliation ; it would only sever us more cer¬ tainly. Rur. But listen—my darling child, listen—Tom always meant to give you the money you asked for— [Aside.] God forgive me ! [Aloud.] see, here is the very, very sum— look—bless you, take it! [ Takes out a pocket-kook. Lit. How—and— [Aside.] this is impossible—ha ! I see -—’tis the old man’s own savings with which he would con- ceal Tom’s parsimony. [Aloud. J No, no—not a farthing! [Aside.] how can I refuse it? \Aloud.] It comes too late. Rur. Too late ! why ? [Aside.] I am so delighted to find at last some use for these things. [Aloud.] Here comes Tom. Lit. Do not attract his notice to me; let me manage SCL'NE 1.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 29 this meeting—the Earl supposes we arr’ved together— hush ! . [iS/te with Rural , r. Enter Lord Pompion and Tom Coke, l., Lady Pom- pion, Rocket, Lady Alice Hawthorn, r., dressed for dinner, followed at a distance hy Roebuck and Miss Rocket. • Lord, P. Your observations, Mr. Coke, are full of jus¬ tice and originality. Lady A. Hardly adapted for the House, then, my lord Rock. In the army, Mr. Coke? Tom. Nay, sir, I’m it yeomanry, if that’ll do, though a trust I shall never require ta know ma duty. Rock. How, sir, you are nervous ? Tom. Nay, not so; it requires courage to tak the life o’ an enemy, but it wants more than that to be called on to strike at the heart of a neighbour—I confess, I look with more pity than pride on the ranks of brave fellows, marked out for slaughter, with red on their backs, like my Lord P. Necessity, Mr. Coke. Tom. Not the less sad for that, my lord. Rock. Who would not die in defence of such a city as London ? How did it strike you ? Tom. As big—but not enough to hold the evil done in’t. Lord P. But you admired its buildings ? Tom. Yes—Whitehall, the Nelson Pillar, the Fire Of¬ fices, the Duke of York’s Pillar, the National Galleries, and the triumphal arches. Lord P. Ah, sir, an immense sum they cost. Tom. But what puzzled me was, no one seemed to know who lived in anv of ’em. Jjord A. Why, you see—a—nobody lives in them. Tom. Then I have no hesitation in saying “ nobody” is the best housed man in the country. Lady A. (c.) Surely, sir, you consider our streets are splendid ? Tom. Y r es, but not as glorious as the heaven they shut out. Since I came into this city I haven’t seen a fair inch of blue sky, or a blade of green grass. Stop—I did, though—yes, I did see a puir sickly plot penned up in a place they called a square, looking as if they’d put nature in a noilnd for straying into town. 30 OLD HEADS ^ActH Lady A. Ha! ha! sir, yours will be a distinguished voice in the house. Tom. And yours is the most musical and honest ono I’ve heard since I left Yorkshire. Lady A. Here’s a hand belonging to it Lit. [Aside.} By Heaven, can she be smitten with him already ? Enter Butler, c. Tut. Dinner, my lady. L ord P. Colonel Rocket, her ladyship—permit me. [Leads the way , followed by Rocket and Lady Po?n~ pion , c. Tom. [ To Lady Alice.} You’ll favour me. [ Offers his arm to her on her l. Lit. [Starting up.} Lady Alice, my arm is at your set vice. [ Offers on the other side Tom. Ha !—it—it—must be ! Lady A. [Looking surprisedly from one to the other.} Your—brother, I believe. Tom. Here—and I—dom it—I canna help it! [Affec¬ tionately.} Yes, it—is my brother. f Offering his hand, Littleton bows coldly. Lit. I fear, your ladyship, they wait for us— Lady A. [ Looking with reproof on him.} True—they do. [Takes Tom's arm and, goes up with him. — Exeunt , c. Lit. My brother and my rival! be it so ! Walks violently up and down , followed by Rural . Rur . Don’t be violent, my dear boy— Lit. Yes—I will not let her see how she can wound me —and him—’twould be too deeply gratifying. [Rural takes his arm.} I will go—yes. Rur. That’s right. [Coke takes fierce strides , Rural running to keep up with him—he sudderdy stops. Lit, Y A can I endure without betraya~—I must. [Exit rapidly with Rural . c. END OF ACT II. Scene LI AND YOUNG UK A IMS- 6 \ ACT III. Scene I, —The Drawing-Room in Lady Pomp-ion's House Arch, c., drop cried and surmounted with a rich Cornice, discovering an inner Drawing-Room with, a fireplace in c. f. — Fireplace and fire, r. t. e., Windows, r. s. e. and L., dr ay cried in rich crimson damask and gilded va lences .— The Room is decorated in white and gold , with a bouquet pattern, a brilliant chandelier, branches be¬ tween the windows, divans and consols r., l., mirrors and chandelier in the inner room. Lady Alice ?’.? discovered playing at a Piano, l. it. e., Tom Coke leaning over it —Rural is seated, l., cw, a prideux, reading a pamphlet. —Lord Pompion ana Colonel Rocket are walking up and dozen, from l. to r. corner of the inner room, while Lady Pompion is lying on a sofia opposite the fire, a Servant is offering her coffee on a salver, while another Servant waits with liqueurs. Littleton Coke is playing with her Spa ¬ niel, but watching Lady Alice and Tom . Roebuck and Miss Rocket arc seated on a flirting vis-a-vis, pre tending to qlay ecarte on a small ornamental table. Rock. My opinion is, that a submarine battery is attract¬ ed to the keel of the vessel, and exploded by concussion. Lord, P. Bless me ! had Guy Faux lived in these times, what would become of the House of Peers? Rock. Pooh ! vote me a hundred thousand pounds, and i’ll undertake to blow up both houses. [ They go zip conversing, c, Roe. I propose. Kate. 1 won’t let you, I’ve a beautiful hand. Roe. Pve been admiring it. [Plays. Kate. 1 take your heart. [ Takes a trick. Roe. I wish you would take my hand with it. \Plays his last card. Kate. I do, the game’s mine ;—what were we playing for ? Roe. For love— Kate. Exactly—that means for nothing. [They flirt aside.—Lord Pompion watches them, whiL Colonel Rocket joins Lady Alice. 32 OLD HEADS 'Act III Rur. [ To Lady Pompion.} Your ladyship, may I entreat your sympathy and beneficence in favour of a subscription I am raising for a poor creature, a widow with eight chil¬ dren ? Lady P. Widows never appear to have less—have 1 seen the case in the Morning Post ? Rur. Not that 1 am aware of. Lady P. Pray, sir, let me see your list—what people of importance have subscribed ? [ To Coke .] one gets one’s name mixed up with such canaille in these charities, f To Rural.} In whose name, sir, is it raised, pray ? Rur. In that of the most bountiful Dispenser of all Good. Lady P. All ! sorry—we are not acquainted. [ Turns away and takes coffee from Servant. Lord P. Colonel Rocket, a word. [ They advance. Rock. My lord i [Lord P. takes him into it. corner and, speaks apart. Lady A. [To Tom.} Ha! ha! you strange creature—I declare I will storm Sykes Hall next September. Lit. [A side. ] This is done to torture me—and succeeds. Tom. We will show you old English sports. Lady A. Suppose, after my invasion, I should deter¬ mine to occupy. Tom. I’d ask no better. Lit. The devil ! [Nearly chokes the Spaniel , who howls . Lady P. Mr. Coke, my poor Bichon ! [Snatches it up. Lit. Really, I— [Aside.} Damn the dog! [Coming down.} I can suffer this agony no longer—although she may despise my want of pride in suing her after my ex¬ hibition of ill-temper—what would I give to be able to af¬ fect her indifference'? No! after all my oaths to bring her to submission first—Here I go ! [Goes up and joins Lady A. Lord P. [Aside to Rock.} In a word, Colonel Rocket, your attentions are thrown away—My dear sir, recollect —the son of a peer 1 Rock. My—daughter. Lord P. With all respect—I have ether views for him, and, excuse my candour—but the Pompions came over after the Battle of Hastings, and have never yet mingled fvith anything but Norman blood. SCEPE I.J AND vquNG HEARTS. 33 Rock. Damn it, my lord, Kate Rocket need not look up to blood royal—her mother was the Begum of Curry- pore. princess of the first caste; she was the only one ol her family my guns had left alive—I took her in a brisk charge after she had shot two horses under me, no offence, my lord—but her ladyship don't show such blood as that. Lord P. No ! My Countess is not of a fusileer family —pardon me, I feel my honesty is almost plebeian, but should your daughter’s name suffer by contact with my son’s, don’t blame him. [Goes up , r. Rock. Blame ! certainly not, I’ll blow his brains out ! [Calls.} Kate! Kate, [P/scs.] Colonel! [Joins him. Rock. Aside.] We leave this house to-morrow. Kate. [Aside.] To-morrow! [Looks at Roebuck. Rock. Orders given, no appeal—duty—damme—ha ! ha! that peer is as proud of—of the Norman puddle that stagnates in his heart, as if his country had ever seen any of it—ha ! Battle of Hastings ! ha ! a pretty affair that must have been, when there’s no mention of it in the Army List! ha! damme if I think there ever was such a battle. Roe. To Lord P., who has been speaking aside to him.] Be careful! wherefore, my lord ? Lord P. [To Roebuck.] I have discovered that all the Government interest he possesses is confined to 3 per cent, on 5000Z., and he is no more an East India Director than my valet. Need I say more 1 [Goes up , c. [Littleton leaves Lady Alice , who has been devoting herself to Tom , and advances. Lit. ’Tis useless. I have yielded, up my will, soul, and all to her—l cannot escape her torture—struggling wounds me more than patient suffering. Heaven—to what des¬ picable slavery can manhood be reduced ! Rur. [Joining him.] My dear boy, what’s the matter? why do you look so darkly at Tom ? is he not your bro¬ ther ? Lit. Is he so ?—why then has he crossed me tiv ough life—has he not devoured my inheritance—am l not a beo-gar ? O O Rur. No—not while a roof and crust are n/ine. Little¬ ton—listen to me—I left my cure, my people in the coun¬ try, for the holy purpose of uniting you again : 1 entmed this wilderness to bring back a lost sheep. 34 OLD HEADS [Act 111. Lit. Then you should have come unaccompanied bv tho wolf—I care not to avow it—I am madly in love. f Crosses , l. liter. My goodness ! Lit. Servilely—despicably—meanly—infatuated—wil¬ ling—anxious to exchange degrading worship for contempt, to return blind grcvelling adoration for indifference ! Rur. The dear impetuous boy. Lit. Look around you, and judge if I have cause for misery. [Goes up and seats himself, r. Rur. Misery—cause—let me see ! [Puts on his specta¬ cles, looks round , sees Roebuck and Miss Rocket.] Oh ! oh ! oh ! there it is—well—poor Littleton ! perhaps I can do something here ! it may not be hopeless. [ Tom comes down, l. Tom. ’Tis my opinion there’s honest nature in that girl, and wholesome feeling, too—I’ll wait, and see if it be his lordship’s Burgundy, or my reason, that’s at work upon my heart—Minister ! [Rural advances , r. Rur. Well, Tom. Tom. You noticed yon blithe lass, I’m thinking. Rur. I did, Tom. Tom. Do’t again—I’m not clear about it; but it’s more than likely I’m in love. Rur. Bless me, how very remarkable ! Tom. I have hesitated, minister, because I thought Lit¬ tleton did seem that way inclined. Rur. Thank heaven, I can answer no to that !—no, Tom, he is in love, but ’tis there. [Points to Miss Rocket. Tom. Ar’t sure ? Rur. He owned it to me. Tom. ’Tis loike him—to drag a poor, trusting, loving girl from comfort here—to share his discontent. [Goes up, l. Rur. I’m determined—yes, that will do—the bequest left me by the father of these boys, I have never thought of till this moment—’tis not a fortune, but with my vicar¬ age—enough—enough—Littleton shall have her—I—I will provide for all—they shall come to me, and my hap¬ piness will be too much—more than I deserve ; then Tom will relent, I know his good heart, and I shall be blessed in their union once again!—how shall I begin ?— [ Thinks apart. Scene I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 35 Enter the Groom of the Chambers, l., with shawls . Serv. The carriage waits, my lady. Lady P. I bad almost forgotten the opera. Lord P. [Advancing c.J Mr. Coke, a seat in our box is at your service. [ To?n crosses to Lady P. and shawls her, then crosses hack to Lady Alice. Tom. Oh, too happy, [To Lady Alice,] does your la¬ dyship accompany us ? Lady A. I don’t mind, though I have a box of my own on the pit tier—Russell, have they sent my Brougham] Serv. Not yet, my lady. Lady A. Then, I’ll follow you, fori hate three in a chariot. Lady P. Charles, dear, do take Bichon to his valet. I i iiink he’s sleepy. Lord P. Colonel, shall we stroll down to the house ? Rock. Your lordship’s pardon—I’ve an appointment at mv club—the Oriental. •/ Lady A. Here, one of you men, run and see if my carriage is come. [To Littleton.] You’ll do, and ask my footman if the lorgnette is in the pocket. There, do go, run. [Exit Littleton Coke, l.] Colonel, [Taking Rocket's arm,\ suppose you propose me at the Oriental? Rock. Would you not prefer being a member of the Jockey Club ? Lady A. No; I could amuse myself with your old drolls, but nothing appears to me so slow as your soi-disant fast man. Come, do propose me. Rock. You would kill us all off with laughing in a week. Lady A. Do, now ! Rock. No, no. [Exeunt talking , l. Lady Pompion and, Tom go out , l., Rate, following Roebuck , with dog shawled up, is going, r. Roe. [Propping the dog.] Miss Rocket, one word. Rate. Don’t detain me !— [Aside.] I must let him know how valuable his time is, or he will let me go.— [Aloud.] Let me say farewell, my father leaves town to-morrow. Roe. To-morrow !—then there is no time for delicacy. Rate. Not a mom—that is, I mean, let me go—how I tremble— Roe. Lean on me ! 36 OLD HEADS [Act Ill \ Kate. Thank you. I am so faint— •/ Roe. Do, if we are discovered ! Kate. I will. What am I saying? Ru?. [ Aside—coming down , it.j How ve y extraordina¬ ry—here’s more love. It. appears to me that the young people in this house don’t do anything else. Roe. [ While Miss Packet hides her face in her hands .] Kate—dear Kate—need words pass between us, doesn't this speak for itself] Your father’s tyranny will defeat it¬ self, and excuse this precipitation of an avowal. Kate. My father’s tyranny !—you mean that of the se¬ vere and haughty earl. Roe. No, dearest, fear nothing from him—I am his son, ,f1 ’s true, and, as such, will yield him the obedience 1 ought. But. ’tis to my children, not to my father, that I am answerable for the choice of my heart—I claim, there¬ fore, my freedom and your hand—assure me that I have won it. Kate. Spare me a reply—but, my father— Roe. On what pretext can he withhold his consent? Kate. On the earl’s dislike to our union. Roe. Ha ! I see—my father has already spoken to the colonel—that accounts for his sudden departure. Kate. I fear so—but don’t mind papa, he’s nobody-— Roe. How—are not his orders peremptory ? Kate. Yes—so is his obedience—he’s a dear, noisy old man—the worst-tempered, best-hearted creature in the w r orld ; lie’s fond of reviewing, so I let him burn his pow der, and then I march him home again—ha! ha ! Roe. I took him for a tyrant. Kate. He ? why he has the heart of a woman—when my mother died, before I w r as two years old, I’ve heard that he would watch me like a nurse—fearing to touch me, but envying the Ayeh to whom I was confided. Roe. But you had some female relatives ? Kate. Not one—nor did I feel their absence. I felt myself, as our mess-room used to toast me, “ the fair co¬ lonel.” Oh, Charles, you will love him so—could you have seen him as I have, under the scorching sun of In¬ dia, pacing along the ranks, trying to inspect the men with a regulation frown, and swearing down their honest murmurs of “ bless his old wig and spurs,” ’till,' suffocated Scene l.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 37 with their benedictions, with tears in his eyes, he’d cry— “ Get out of the sun, you mutinous rascals ! Dismiss !— I’ll flog every man of you—march—God bless you, boys.” Oh, I could have cried with pride. Roe. And when you leave this, where do you go? Kate. To our villa at Closeborough. Roe. The very seat which I was to represent; the elec tion, or rather the nomination, occurs to-morrow. Kate. Another obstacle—my father’s politics Roe. I am a martyr to them—I abdicate the honour in favour of Littleton Coke—but have you no excuse by which your departure might be retarded ? Kate. I—yes—my father’s gout has prevented him lately from accompanying me in my daily ride; he has consented to allow me a groom of my own; I have not yet selected a— Roe. A groom ? A moment—ha! will you take one of my recommendation? one in whose confidence you may rely as in my own. Kate. What do you mean? Roe. Rely on me—I mean all for the best. Kate. I have no will but yours. Roc. My angel! [Krnes her. Enter Colonel Rocket, l. Rock. Hollo, there—Kate—recover arms—the devil! Kate. My father! Rock. You—you—you—here’s mutiny! and you, sir how dare you, against general orders ? [Crosses to c. Roe. Hush ! my father !—should he overhear. Rock. Don’t think your Norman blood will— Kate. \ rr , 7 ( Hush ! I entreat—the Earl. Roe. } Tether, { We ^ be ruJned Rock. [ Still enraged , hut under his breath .] What do l care whether he hears or not—I hope he will—you pair of disaffected mutineers. [ Gradually breaking out.] Don’t imagine I want to steal a recruit from your family into mine—because I’d see it— Kate. My dear father! he’s only in the next room. Roe. The Earl—for Heaven’s sake— Rock. [Under his breath.] Very well, then—don’t Earl me—who’s the Earl ?—you?—harkye, sir, [Kate throws 38 OLD HEADS [Act III her arms round his wci,] you may have come over after the battle of Hastings—though I can’t say I see much glory in arriving when the fight’s done—but I can count scars for every branch in your genealogical tree—so look ye, if you think there’s any ambuscade here to catch your lordship, fall back—your retreat is still open ; but if you try a surprise on my baggage here, damme, look out for a warm reception. [Kate stops his mouth toith a kiss. Rur. Don’t be alarmed, Colonel, I heard it all. Roe. [Aside.] Ruin—ruin—nothing can prevent this simple old fellow from committing our secret with my fa ther. Rock. You hare brought on a twinge of the gout, you have, you graceless baggage—then what do you care— you’d run off with the first fellow whose grandfather came over after the battle of Hastings, and leave your infirm old father with nothing to swear at but his crutch. If I had a family poodle to leave my money to, damme I’d cut you off with a rupee—give me a kiss—I would, you—oh ! —don’t laugh at my sufferings—oh ! [ Exeunt , assisted by Miss Rocket , l. Roe. My dear old friend, one word.— [Aside.—Brings Rural forward,] what shall I say ?—You never thought 1 was making love to that lady ? Rur. It did strike me—but if not, what were you ma¬ king ? Roe. Why, can’t you guess? Rur. No ! making love is very unlike anything else I know of. Roe. You are right—I was—but—but—not on my own account. Rur. Oh ! Roc. I pressed the suit for—for a friend—in fact, fot Coke. Rur. For Littleton? Rock. [ Without , l.] Don’t tell me— Kate. [ Without , l. No— but— Roc. You must be aware that I am destined by my fa¬ ther for Lady Alice—and—of course—I—I am devoted to her. Rur. And Littleton was jealous of you ! generous young man ! how he will repent when he is aware of Scene I.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 39 his unjust suspicion ; I know my dear b y is in lovo wiLh the lady, he has confessed it to me. Roe . [ Half aside.] The devil he has ! Rur. Now, leave the rest to me— Roe . Oh ! there’s some mistake here. Rur 1 will get the Colonel’s consent—I’ll do it at once before I see Littleton—not a word to him. Let me sur¬ prise him with it. Oh, Littleton ! \Exit , l. Enter Littleton Core, l. c. Roc. My dear fellow, you must aid me Lit. In what ? Roe. Old Rocket leaves this to-morrow, taking Kate with him. I have determined to accompany them. Lit. How ? Roe. The lady wants a groom. Lit. You never mean to undertake the place. Roe. When I have removed these foreign decorations from my chin and lips, I’d defy the eyes of Argus to know me. Enter Servant, l. Serv. Mr. Bribe, sir, wishes to. see his lordship. Roe. Bribe, the devil—very well, Thomas. \Exit Ser¬ vant, l.] That’s my father’s solicitor and parliamentary agent, come to arrange accounts for my nomination.— What’s to be done ? Lit. What’s Bribe’s fee ? Roe. A thousand pounds. Lit. I’ll offer him fifteen hundred to go down on my account. Roe. But is it practicable ?—will be ? Lit. Anything is practicable to a lawyer for five hun¬ dred pounds. But we must find some one to represent a partner in his firm, who is unknown by sight to your fa¬ ther. Roe. Crawl’s the man, an arrant vote-broker. Lit. Then Crawl shall enjoy an honest reputation for a day, in the person of Bob. Roe. Is he equal to it? Lit. I’ll back him with odds at anything, from winning a kitchen wench, to a speech from the woolsack. Roe. ITc is hero—where shall I find him? 40 OLD HEADS [Act JI1 Lit. Have you any spot in the house dedicated espe cially to the maids ar.d mischief] if so, raise your voice in that quarter. Enter Bob, cautiously , l. Bob. Sir! sir! \LooJcs about. Lit. Here he is. Bob. I’ve sent your adress to the Closeborough Inde - pendent , sir. Lit. My address ! Bob. To the free and enlightened electors—you’ll find it sharp and undecided, sir—I’ve been rather abusive in my allusions to your lordship, but one cannot be political without being personal; therefore, when 1 refer to your lordship, from the hustings to-morrow, as only falling short of aYool by being born a knave, and the disgrace you are to the aristocracy—[ To Littleton .] Oh, sir, I’ve not read the debates for nothing.— [To Roebuck .] Your lord- ship will understand me to speak professionally. Roe. Why—you—you— Lit. [Crosses to Roebuck , and aside.] Never mind, wait till I can afford to pay him his wages, I’ll not forget you. [To Bob.] We require you to adopt the name and cha¬ racter of a gentleman who is expected here, and to per¬ sonate him before Lord Pompion : can you do it ] Bob. That depends upon whom he is. Roe. Crawl, the attorney and agent. Bob. [ To Littleton.] I thought you spoke of a gentle¬ man. Lit. Nonsense, sir; can you play the attorney] Bob. Facilis descensus averni, as Virgil said, when you were at college, sir. I’ll adopt the character, b$t I’m afraid my honesty will show through and spoil the assump¬ tion. Lit. No fear of that. Accompany Lord Charles, he will give vou instructions. Roe. ’Tis a fearful alternative, but there is no time to invent ; I’ll despatch Bribe at once. [To Bob.] This way. Gare ! here comes the widow ! [ Exeunt , Roe. Sf Bob , r. Lie. The widow, and once more alone, ha! I feel that if I could mask my impetuosity for a moment, I might at least discover my position, but my love is in its own way, and— Scene I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 41 Enter Lady Alice Hawthorn, l. [. Aside .] Here she is. Lady A. [Aside.] I thought he had gone without me— ha ! I almost believe I like the fool. [Littleton sits and writes. ] I must discover why these brothers do not speak. —I was thinking of trying the opera for an hour, Mr. Coke. Lit. Not a bad idea— [Writing,] my distracted love is too perceptible— [Aloud, J the opera, ay ! [Aside,] could she have refused to accompany Tom and the Countess, to secure a tete-a-tete with me ?—I dare not hope it.—[ Wri¬ ting.] “In the fond hope” Lady A. [Aside.] Why, I do believe the fellow is wri¬ ting a love letter. Lit. [Still writing.] “ Crisi” —yes—ah—eh—Ibegyoui pardon—you’ll allow me to ring for your carriage. Lady A. [Aside.] So he thinks he is sure of me—oh ! yes—hang his smirking self-sufficient grin—that letter is to me—now, if I liked him less, I would torture him till —why—lie is not going to seal it ! Lit. [Burning the wax.] Lady Alice, I remarked a mi¬ nute signet ring on your lovely hand: will you favour me with it for an instant ? Lady A. Nonsense ; it bears the motto, “ L’amour est.” Lit. Love defunct—excellent. You keep it to seal your death warrant, to the heart of a discarded lover. [jScwZs the letter.] Spirituelle—ha! [Kisses the ring, and returns it to her finger, hissing her hand. Lady A. Well—ahem— [Aside.] He does not give it to me— [Littleton ionites,] he directs it—really, I— [Littleton extinguishes the taper and advances ,] feel very—oh, hore he comes—ha ! he was too nervous to speak—I— Lit. Lady Alice— Lady A. [Aside.] His voice trembles—ha!— [Littleton walks round her, and takes up a shawl,] he’s swimming r^und the hook. Lit. You were talking of the opera— [Crossing, l. Lady A. [Aside. ] The float sinks. Lit. Allow me, before you go— Lady A. [Aside.] 1 have him ! Lit. To sh?wl you. 42 OLD HEADS [Act III Jjady A. Sir!— [Aside. He’s off. Lit. [ Folding the shawl. ] Happy shawl!—-Blest cash mere !—why was I not born amongst you to be continu ally hugged round such a lovely form as this. [Skaiclinp her.] Allow me to ring for the carriage. Lady A. [ Aside .] Hang the fellow, I’ll have that letter if I die for it.—A wa;m correspondence that of your’s, ii I may judge by-your escaped expression. Lit. [Aside.} Aha ! ’tis a bite, as I expected—now, i’ll play with her a little.—Warm ! oh, yes; and, apropos, you may be of some assistance to me. Lady A. Assistance ! Lit. Yes ; you might deliver the letter. I am sure the interest you took in me this morning, will excuse the con fidence I ask vou to qq 283 Dick Turpin 284 Young Scamp 285 Young Actress 286 Call at No. 1-7 287 One Touch of Nature. 288 Two B’hoys 212 Love in Livery 213 Anthony and Cleopatra 214 Trying It On. 215 Stage Struck Yankee 216 Young Wife & Old Um brella VOL. XXXIX. 306 Too Much for Good Nature. 306 Cure for the Fidgets. Anything on this Cover sent free by mail, on receipt of price. New and explicit Descriptive List mailed free on request. SAMUEL FRENCH, Publisher, 122 Nassau St., N. Y. . t-i ■ • -V - •• * * X> v: ' '-'^v: 4 tl'•>:& -' <*.0 * ■ ■ *..- - i- -- ,*• 1 i,-rr . ifl** > ••.*■ * •.' ; > mk