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^RENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA. 
 
 No. XLVT. 
 
 THE 
 
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 MUSIC and Pi 
 
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 '°$ckifo, o- 
 
 FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 21 iJaufrmllc Conuirg 
 
 ■ • • - * 
 
 IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 BY J. R. PL ANC HE. 
 
 WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTER®, 
 RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 122 Nassau Street, (Up Stairs.) 
 
CAST 
 
 OF 
 
 CH ARACTFRS. 
 
 Drury Lane, 1842. 
 Duke De Chartres * Mr. Hudson. 
 
 Count dc Brissac ... “ Roberts. 
 
 Dr. Druggcndraft.. “ Compton. 
 
 Pierre Palliot . “ Chas. Mathews, 
 
 Officer . “ Yarnold. 
 
 Servant . “ Carle. 
 
 Duchess de Chartres Madame Vestris. 
 Mademoiselle Duval. Miss Turpin. 
 
 Park, 1845. 
 
 Clwnpie »846. 
 
 Mr. C. Kean. 
 
 Mr. Fenno.Caanfrau 
 
 “ S. Pearson. 
 
 “ Clark. 
 
 “ Bass. 
 
 “ Nickinson. 
 
 “ Fisher. 
 
 “ W alcot. 
 
 Buloid. 
 
 “ Levere. 
 
 “ Heath. 
 
 “ Bleecker. 
 
 Mrs. C. Kean* 
 
 Miss Clarke. 
 
 “ Abbott. 
 
 Miss Roberts. 
 
 * Grand Nephew of Louis the 14th, and afterwards the celebrated Regent Duke 
 of Orleans; During the life-time of his father, he was called the Duke de Chartres. 
 His Duchess was Francoise Marie de Bourbon, natural daughter of Louis 14th. 
 They we're married, Feb. 18th, 1692. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 PHILIP, DUKE DE CHARTRES.—Purple velvet coat embroidered in gold, 
 wide cuffs, white satin breeches, three-cornered hat, full powdered wig. 
 
 COUNT DE BRISSAC.—Light blue coat, with gold trimmings, blue breeches 
 three-cornered hat, powdered wig. 
 
 DR. DRUGGENDRAFT.—Square cut coat of black velvet, black velvet breeches, 
 black silk stockings, three-cornered hat, curled and powdered wig. 
 
 PIERRE PALLIOT.—Stone-coloured coat, trimmed with black velvet, full trunk? 
 of the same. 
 
 OFFICER.—Military suit, high jack boots. 
 
 SERVANT.—Livery of white merino, faced with red. 
 
 DUCHESS.—Rich brocade dress, open in front, and looped up with flowers, white 
 satin underskirt, with two deep lace flounces, powdered hair, ornamented with 
 feathers and flowers. 
 
 MA’LLE DUVAL.—Orange coloured silk dress, open in front, plain white silk un¬ 
 derskirt, powdered hair. 
 
 MASQUERADERS.—Different coloured dominoes. 
 
 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 TOSITIONS. 
 
 R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centre; 
 L. C., Left of Centre. 
 
 JS.B. Passages marked with Inverted Commas, are vsua.ly omitted in the 
 
 TdDrf P.pn tatinn, 
 
EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I'vis ingenious version of a lively French vaudeville comedy, 
 vjvis rirst produced the fifth of October, 1842, at Drury Lane 
 It is from the pen of Planche, and has all that exquisite neatness 
 of construction, which distinguishes his manv successful pieces 
 for the stage. The materials of the plot are slight, but they are 
 so nicely adjusted, and the incidents, though by no means novel, 
 are so happily combined, that the comedy is a succession of 
 amusing surprises and clever hits. 
 
 The scene is in France, in the youth of Orleans when Duke 
 f de Chartres : and the “ Follies of a Night” are those of the Du¬ 
 chess, who takes advantage of her husband’s absence with the 
 army to venture to a masquerade ball, and those of the Duke , 
 who avails himself of his supposed absence to return secretly to 
 Paris for a little amusement cf bis cwn. Between the manoeu¬ 
 vres of the two, Pierre Palliot, who has come X the metropolis 
 in search of fortune and his uncle Druggendraft , the ducal phy¬ 
 sician, is bandied about till he finds all that he sought, and even 
 more, in the person of a suitable bride. 
 
 The comedy was thoroughly successful in the representation 
 Charles Mathews, as the adventurer, threw a tinge of rusticity 
 into his gallantry and address, and was a most mercurial young 
 spark ; and Madame Yestris played the coquette with her wont¬ 
 ed elegance and ease. Mr. Hudson as the Duke , appeared to 
 better advantage than he had ever done, his vivacity not being 
 too boisterous; and he sang a song of rakish sentiment with pi¬ 
 quancy and effect. Compton, as Dr. Druggendraft, was droll 
 without buffoonery. There was a quiet avoidance of grimace 
 and exaggeration iu his manner, and he won hearty applause 
 without either. The effect of the little songs, unintroduced by 
 
IV 
 
 EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 symphony, as if they were but vocal terminations to the dialogue, 
 was very pleasant. “ Every one of the performers,” says the 
 Examiner, “ acted well, and sang well, and the running accom¬ 
 paniment of laughter from the audience never failed. The most 
 morose must have yielded to the infection; and we were not 
 surprised next day to see grave critics resenting the weakness of 
 giving was to a piece that, with nothing wonderful in>the way 
 of character, and no astonishing harvest of wit, had made so ma¬ 
 ny people happy for half an evening. It is a charming addition 
 to Mr. Planche’s many accomplishments of that kind.” 
 
 This comedy was one of the favourite afterpieces of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Charles Kean, during their recent theatrical tour through 
 the United States. It is also frequently performed at Mitchell’s 
 Olympic Theatre with that spirit and good taste, which the ma¬ 
 nagement habitually displays in its production of vaudevilles of 
 this class. We would like it better if the songs were all pre¬ 
 served in the representation ; but it is not often that we have a 
 comic hero and heroine, who can please by their singing as well 
 as by their acting. 
 
Those who have read or seen a three act Comedy called u Chariot,” 
 by Messrs. Lockroy, Anicet Bourg3ois, and Vanderburch, will know 
 how far I have deviated from the plot of the original. Those who 
 have not, will be satisfied with my acknowledgment of obligation to 
 o French Cadre —such an avowal being more necessary for my credit 
 than for their amusement. I shall only add, that none of the Vaude¬ 
 villes in this comedy arc to be found in the French piece, and that 
 those sung by Madame Vestris and Mr. Hudson are published (with 
 the music adapted to them by Mr. T. Cooke,) by Mr. Chappell, 50 
 New Bond Street. 
 
 October 20 th, 1842. 
 
 J. R. P. 
 
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THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I.— Foyer, or Saloon of the Ojpera House, in the 
 Palais Royal at Paris, A. D. 1693. —In the c., a Pedes¬ 
 tal, upon which is a Clock—immediately wider it, a Seat. 
 A Balustrade at the hack, divides the Foyer from a Lob¬ 
 by, supposed to lead into the body of the Theatre. Arches 
 at each side form entrances into the Foyer. As the Cur¬ 
 tain rises, Music heard as from the Ball. Masquers are 
 seen passing to and fro, and lounging over the Balustrade. 
 
 \+e 
 
 CHORUS.— ( u Danse des Folies, Gustave.' 1 ) 
 
 Merrily ! merrily ! merrily ! merrily 
 Hasten to the Masquerade, 
 
 Merrily! merrily! merrily ! merrily ! 
 
 Be the call of mirth obeyed. 
 
 Come where Beauty 
 Claims your duty— 
 
 Love, in whispers soft conveyed, 
 
 Makes the tender 
 Heart surrender 
 Quickly, at the Masquerade. 
 
 Merrily ! merrily ! merrily ! &c. 
 
 [Masquers gradually disperse. 
 
 Enter Pierre Palliot, r. u. e. 
 
 Pie. [Advancing and looking around.} Wonders will ne¬ 
 ver cease ! I am here, actually here—and twelve months 
 ago who would have deemed it probable, nay, possible] 
 But it’s quite true, unless I am in a dream. Here do I 
 stand, Pierre Palliot, aged twenty-two, native of Beauvais, 
 son of Michael Palliot, blacksmith and farrier, here do I 
 positively stand in the Saloon of the Opera House, in the 
 Palais lioyal at Paris, with an assignation in my hand 
 
8 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 from a *ovely woman of quality; for I have no doubt 
 whatever that these lines have been written by some lady 
 of high rank and exceeding beauty, who has been struck 
 with my personal appearance, and has discovered where 
 I live. Look at the paper—soft as satin—smell it—like a 
 garden of roses—and then the style—so mysterious and 
 commanding—“ Be at the Masquerade to-night , at twelve 
 \precisely , in the Saloon, and immediately under the clock.” 
 The thing speaks for itself. How fortunate that I had 
 money enough to buy a ticket. Another week, and my 
 purse would have been empty ! There’s the clock: it 
 only wants five minutes to the time! 
 
 AIR.— Pierre. — (“Mon rocker de St. Malo 
 
 My first grand step in life ’twill be, 
 
 Of girls I’ve wooed a score; 
 
 But to a dame of quality, 
 
 I never spoke before ! 
 
 As the hour draws near, 
 
 I scarce can draw my breath * 
 
 My first step in life, I fear. 
 
 Will really be—my death. 
 
 At Beauvais, they used to say, 
 
 I had such a winning way, 
 
 And I own I found the fair 
 Very tender-hearted there; 
 
 But in such things, Paris may 
 Ditfer widely from Beauvais! 
 
 As the hour draws near, 
 
 I scarce can draw my breath, &c 
 
 Enter Dr. Druggendraft, r. u. e. 
 
 l)r. jD. [Reading a note.] “ Be at the Masquerade to¬ 
 night, at twelve precisely, in the Saloon, and immediately un¬ 
 der the clock.” Who could have sent me this note! I burn 
 with impatience to behold the writer! Some lady of the 
 Court, fascinated by my manners, and dazzled by my repu¬ 
 tation. [Reads the address .J “ To Dr. Druggendraft, Phy¬ 
 sician in ordinary to their Royal Highnesses the Duke and 
 Duchess de Chartres.” Let me see ! let me see ! My old 
 countrywoman, the Countess of Klatterhausen, who came 
 from Bavaria with the Duchess of Orleans ! Venus forbid! 
 Ma’lle Duval, the new and lovely lady in waiting on the 
 Duchess de Chartres ; if it should!—but no—1 can scarcely 
 venture to hope so—and yet, a poor dependant on the 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 9 
 
 Duchess’s bounty, she may have been flattered by the at¬ 
 tentions of a man of my talent and influence. 
 
 Pie. [Aside, looking at his note.} I am sure it will turn 
 out to be from the lady who let her handkerchief fall from 
 her coach, the day before yesterday. 
 
 Doc. [Alside. J It must be from Ma’lle Duval. 
 
 Pie. [Aside. J It’s just twelve. She’ll be here in an in¬ 
 stant, whoever she is ! There’s a seat under the clock— 
 I’ll take possession of it. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] There’s a seat under the clock—I’ll se¬ 
 cure it. [As he turns towards it, Pierre seats himself.] Con¬ 
 found it! there’s a fellow just popped himself into it. J To 
 Pierre.] I beg your pardon, sir; but would you allow me 
 to sit there \ 
 
 Pic. With the greatest pleasure, sir, after me. 
 
 Dr. D. Excuse me, sir, but I mean now. 
 
 Pie. Excuse me, sir, I cannot move at present. 
 
 Dr. D. But, sir, I am sure, when I toll you that I have 
 a particular reason— 
 
 Pie. And, sir, when I tell you that I have particular 
 reason— 
 
 Dr. D. But, my dear sir, I assure you that I have an 
 appointment of the utmost confidence. 
 
 Pie. But, my dear sir, so have I. 
 
 Dr. D. What! under this clock, sir ? 
 
 Pie. Immediately under this clock, sir—at twelve pre¬ 
 cisely. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] The devil! “At twelve precisely”— 
 “ Immediately under the clock.” The very words in my 
 note ! Can it be a woman in male attire 1 [Aloud.] Will 
 you allow me to inquire—did you expect to see me here! 
 
 P ie. Hav’n’t the slightest notion who you are, sir. 
 
 Dr. D. Sir, you have quoted words which are contained 
 in this note, and I must therefore insist— 
 
 Pie. In that note—they are in this note ! 
 
 [Comes forward, l. 
 
 Doth. [Reading their notes at the same time.] “ Be at the 
 Masquerade to-night, at twelve precisely, in the Saloon, and 
 immediately under the clock,” 
 
 Dr. D. Ha ! 
 
 Pie. Eh ] 
 
 Dr. D. W ord for word ! 
 
10 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [ Acr I. 
 
 Pic. Lettei for letter ! 
 
 Dr. D. Sir! there must be some mistake. You will 
 perceive, this letter is plainly addressed to me. 
 
 P ie. And this to me. [They exchange notes. 
 
 Dr. D. \Reading .J “ Monsieur Pierre Palliot, No. 7, Rue 
 de UEchelleP 
 
 Pie. “ To Dr. Druggendr aft, Physician in ordinary to their 
 Royal Highnesses the ”—Good gracious ! You Dr. Drug* 
 gendraft! Why, then, you’re my uncle ! Oh, my dear 
 uncle ! [ Going to embrace him . 
 
 Dr. D. Gently, gently, if you please. Do you mean to 
 say— 
 
 Pie. I mean to say that I am Pierre Palliot, son of Mi¬ 
 chel Palliot, blacksmith and farrier, of Beauvais, who mar¬ 
 ried your sister, who is my mother, and from whom I have 
 a letter, which I have never been able to give you, because 
 you were never at home, though I’ve called ten times, at 
 least. 
 
 Dr. D. \ Aside.} Deuce take him! How provoking! 
 [Aloud.} Well, well, young man, admit that you are the 
 person you represent yourself, that does not clear up the 
 mystery of these notes—this ridiculous rencontre. 
 
 Pie. Yes, yes, I think it will—I have a clue to if now. 
 It’s Coquillard. 
 
 Dr. D. Coquillard! Who’s Coquillard 1 
 
 Pie. Jean Coquillard, a schoolfellow of mine, the only 
 creature I know in Paris; I met him yesterday, as I was 
 coming back from one of my fruitless calls on you, and 
 told him that I despaired altogether of finding you. Upon 
 which he laughed, and said, that in less than two days he 
 would bring us face to face ! And he has done so ! Ha! 
 ha ! ha ! The cunning 1 rogue ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. | The impertinent rascal ! Master Pal¬ 
 liot, I consider that your friend has taken a most unwar¬ 
 rantable liberty with my name, and I request you will tell 
 aim so. I wish you good evening. [ Going. 
 
 P ie. Why, you’re not going off so, without my mother’s 
 letter—I’ve got it in my pocket—I’ve always carried it 
 about with me, in case I should meet you by accident. 
 There it is. [Producing letter, and. giving it to Dr. D.J Read 
 it : you’ll find 1 am recommended especially to your pro¬ 
 tection. 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 11 
 
 Dr. D. '[Putting the letter unread into his pocket.] Mas¬ 
 ter Palliot, I tell you what I will do for you. If you 
 will return to Beauvais to-morrow morning, and promise 
 that I shall never hear of you any more, I will pay your 
 travelling expenses, and feel obliged to you into the bar¬ 
 gain. 
 
 Pie. Go back to Beauvais ! Now that I have found at; 
 uncle in Paris, who can make my fortune forme !—for my 
 mother assures me you can do it with a word— 
 
 Dr. D. Your mother flatters me, and deceives you. Go 
 back to Beauvais, my good lad. You may make a very 
 respectable blacksmith, but you have neither education nor 
 person to warrant a hope of your success here. 
 
 Pie. Neither education nor person ! Pm a capital fen¬ 
 cer, and can play the flute and the violin ; and as to per¬ 
 son, though 1 have not yet perhaps acquired so distin¬ 
 guished an air as your Paris gallants, I beg to inform you 
 that I have already been noticed by a lady of rank and 
 fortune. 
 
 Dr. D. {Contemptuously .] You! In what way, pr’y- 
 thee % 
 
 P ie. She dropped her handkerchief out of her carriage, 
 window—a carriage with four horses, uncle ! I picked it 
 up, and ran after the carriage to give it her back again; 
 but she never stopped to take it ! 
 
 Dr. D. Because she never missed it, of course—Do you 
 know who the lady was I 
 
 P ie. No, I didn’t see her face; but the handkerchief is 
 embroidered, and has a coronet on it, and a cypher; here 
 it is—perhaps you can tell me. [ Producing a handkerchief. 
 
 Dr.D. A coronet and cypher— [Taking handkerchief 
 and examining it. — Aside.] Mercy preserve me!—What do 
 I see 1 
 
 Pie. Well I 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] ’Tis her’s, no doubt! 
 
 Pie. Do you recognize % 
 
 Dr. D. No. [Aside. J And to think of this young cox¬ 
 comb presuming to suppose that—no matter—to prevent 
 any scandalous misinterpretations— 
 
 [Puts handkerchief into h is pocket. 
 
 Fie. Hey-lay !■—I say, what are you going to do with 
 it I 
 
 4 
 
 U. Gr ILL LIB. 
 
12 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. [Aci i 
 
 Dr. D. Keep it—’Tis the best service I can render you ; 
 good evening. 
 
 Pie. But, uncle— 
 
 Dr. D. If you determine to return to Beauvais, remem¬ 
 ber, I will pay your expenses. 
 
 Pie. But I won’t do any such thing—I will stay at Pa¬ 
 ris ; I want to be a doctor—like you. 
 
 Dr. D. A doctor !—a horse doctor, perhaps, at Beauvais 
 —a doctor like me, indeed—it will be some time, I fancy, 
 before anybody sees a doctor like me !—go home, young 
 man—be advised ; or at all events, let me never hear any 
 more of you. 
 
 Pie. What! do you really mean to treat the only son 
 of your only sister in this way 1 Very well—very well, 
 Dr. Druggendraft, I shall stay in Paris notwithstanding. 
 We shall see—we shall see ! [ Walks about angrily. 
 
 Enter a Servant, r. u. e., who recognizes the Doctor , and 
 
 gives him a note. 
 
 Ser. (r.) {Aside to the Doctor. J From her Royal High¬ 
 ness— 
 
 Dr. D. From her Royal Highness ! Quick, let me pe¬ 
 ruse. {Reads note to himself. 
 
 Pie. Because I’ve been brought up in the country—be¬ 
 cause I’ve not such fine clothes—oh—we shall see—we 
 shall see. 
 
 Dr. D. {Aside.} Impossible! — Not to be thought of!— 
 She must be out of her senses to imagine-- 
 
 Ser. {Aside to the Doctor .J Her Royal Highness is wait¬ 
 ing. 
 
 Dr. D. I come on the instant. Oh, I must prevent her 
 —I cannot suffer—It would be downright madness. 
 
 [ Going. 
 
 Pie. Dr. Druggendraft—do you persist 1 
 
 {Intercepting him. 
 
 Dr. D. Oh, by the bye. {To Servant ,j Look well at that 
 young man. If ever he should present himself at the door 
 of my apartments in the Palace—remember, I am not at 
 home. 
 
 Ser. I shall take care, sir. 
 
 Dr. D. Good bye, young man — if you would make a 
 noise in the world, stick to your father’s sledge hammer. 
 
 {Exit, followed by Sen vrtf p. u. e. 
 
Fcene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 13 
 
 Pie. There’s an uncle for you ; the children in the wood 
 hadn’t one so barbarous. It’s enough to make one forswear 
 uncles. If I were King of France, I’d abolish uncles.— 
 Go back to Beauvais—be a blacksmith—a horse doctor ! 
 I’ll let him know. I’ll go to Coquillard the first thing in 
 the morning; he said yesterday, that a young fellow was 
 never thought anything of in Paris, till he had a mistress 
 or a duel. I’ll have both directly, I will, and I’ll see if I 
 can’t make a noise in the world without a sledge hammer. 
 [ Going out furiously, runs against the Duke de Chartres .J 
 Stand out of my way, do ! [Exit, l. it. e. 
 
 Duke. [Hastily picking up Jus mask, which Pierre had 
 knocked off.] Confound the fellow ! Is he mad, or drunk 1 
 Luckily, no one was near to see me unmasked. What a 
 set of ruffians there is at these public masquerades; I won¬ 
 der any women trust themselves in such a crowd, and yet 
 there are hundreds here, and some elegant looking crea¬ 
 tures, too. What the deuce has become of Brissac 1 I 
 thought I saw him go this way. 
 
 [Exit up the Stage, l., looking about. 
 
 Enter Dr. Druggendraft, with the Duchess on one arm, 
 and Ma’lle Duval on the other, r. u. e. The Du¬ 
 chess is in a Pink Domino, and Ma'lle Duval in a Blue 
 one. 
 
 Dr. D. From that gallery, madam, you may behold with¬ 
 out danger—but pray keep on your mask— 
 
 Duch. I cannot—it smothers me—I must breathe a lit¬ 
 tle—there is no one here at this moment to see us. 
 
 Dr. D. If it should get to the Duke’s ears — what will 
 become of me 1 
 
 Duch. The Duke is at Compeigne with the army. 
 
 Dr. D. But if his majesty should learn— 
 
 Duch. You can plead my commands. 
 
 Dr. D. It will be of no avail—your Royal Highness must 
 pardon my saying, I ought not to have obeyed them. On¬ 
 ly consider, madam, the Duchess de Chartres, the daugh¬ 
 ter of his Majesty Louis the 14th., at a public Masquer¬ 
 ade, during the absence of her royal husband, without his 
 sanction or knowledge, what motives may not be attribut¬ 
 ed— 
 
 Duch. My motives, sir, cannot be doubled. I have 
 
14 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 TP? 
 
 known all my life how Princes pass their time at Court. 
 I wished to see how people amused themselves in Paris, 
 and as I am not likely to learn that by remaining in this 
 saloon, I beg, as we are here, that we may descend at once 
 into the ball-room. 
 
 Dr. D. But, madam, your Royal Highness has no idea 
 of the liberty, the license that reigns in a Masquerade ot 
 this description. You will expose yourself to see and hear 
 many things— 
 
 Duck. Which I never saw or heard before. That is 
 precisely my object in coming, as 1 have already told you, 
 so a truce to your sermons. If I faint, there is Ma’lle 
 Duval to catch me, and you to bring me to again. We 
 are still actually under the roof of the Palais Royal—in 
 two minutes, I can retreat through this gallery to my own 
 apartments ; and if even cut off from that, I have the key 
 of the private entrance from the street. In short, I am 
 bent on the frolic, and will not be disappointed. Be¬ 
 sides— 
 
 AIR.— Duchess. — '* Le Boquet de Bald* 
 
 After all that you can say, 
 
 Where’s the wondrous harm, I pray ? 
 
 If in proverbs truth there be, 
 
 My husband is to blame, not me * 
 
 He is absent—I am here— 
 
 Surely, then, the case is clear, 
 
 ’Tis confessed, the wide world o’er, 
 
 11 Les absens out toujours tort.” 
 
 Many here disguised parade. 
 
 Whose lives are all a masquerade; 
 
 Many drop the vizor fair 
 
 Which in the world they daily wear. 
 
 Come, let’s join the motley throng, 
 
 Meaning none—we do no wrong; 
 
 Pleasure calls—and from her corps, 
 il Les absens ont toujours tort.” 
 
 Ma’lle D. Your spirits run away with you, madam. 
 
 Duck. Fear nothing. I can keep my seat— 
 
 Dr. D. Your mask ! your mask, madam—here’s com¬ 
 pany coming. 
 
 Enter Duke, l. u. e. 
 
 Duke. I can see nothing of Brissac. Who have wc 
 here ] I certainly should know that shuffling-shambling 
 
Scene I.J 
 
 rHE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 15 
 
 gait! I’d venture a wager, it’s my old German physician, 
 Doctor Druggendraft. Oh, it is, there can be no doubt; 
 and with a girl on each arm, too. The old monopolist! 
 [77/e Doctor keeps turning round with the ladies as the Duke 
 tries to examine them. ] How he twists about, like a trussed 
 fowl on the spit. He is evidently afraid of losing either 
 his liver or his gizzard ! That pink domino under his right 
 wing has a mighty pretty air about her. If I could only 
 find my aid-de-camp, we’d relieve him of both his charges 
 in ten minutes. Ah, there’s Brissac. [Exit, r. 
 
 Dr. D. Phew ! Thank goodness, he’s gone at last. I 
 began to tremble. 
 
 Duch. To own the truth, so did I. 
 
 Ma'lle D. I was so frightened I could scarcely breathe. 
 
 Duch. 1 really think that man knew one of us, or had 
 some suspicion. 
 
 Dr. D. Don’t say so, madam, or I shall sink. 
 
 Ma'lle D. Oh, mercy ! Here he comes again with ano¬ 
 ther. 
 
 Dr.D. I feel something terrible will happen. 
 
 Re-enter Duke, with Brissac, r. 
 
 Duke. [To Brissac.] Yes ! they are still here. 
 
 Ma'lle D. 1 beseech you, madam, let us retire. 
 
 Duch. No, no, let us lose them in the crowd—’tis the 
 best plan. 
 
 Dr. D. This way, then, quick, quick. 
 
 [Exeunt Doctor, Duchess, and Ma'lle Duval, l. u. e. 
 
 Duke. Hippocrates has taken the alarm ! Follow him, 
 Brissac. He doesn’t know you, and when you get into 
 the thick of the crowd, make a dash, and separate him from 
 the pink domino. I’ll watch you from hence. Run, run, 
 or you’ll lose them ! 
 
 [As Brissac runs out , Pierre enters, r. u. e., and runs 
 against him. — Pierre's hat is knocked out of his hand. 
 
 Pie. Stand out of my way, do. Stop ! Pick up that 
 hat, sir, as you knocked it out of my hand. Do you hear] 
 Come back, sir ! He won’t hear, and he don’t come back. 
 So much the better ! I’m insulted ! The very thing 1 
 wanted. He shall give me satisfaction. If I can find him 
 again— [A? he is going toward his hat to pick it up, the 
 
16 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. [Aerr I. 
 
 Duke, wlu is watching Brissac, hicks it out of his way .J 
 Hollo, sir! Do you know what you are doing] 
 
 Duke. Go to the devil! \Aside. 1 There they are ! J see 
 them ! 
 
 Pic. Go to the devil! Sir, I must insist— 
 
 Duke. What’s the matter with you ? 
 
 P ic. Sir, do you know you kicked my hat] 
 
 Duke. Sir, if you pester me, I shall kick you! 
 
 Pie. Kick me ! Sir, you shall fight me ! You have 
 insulted me, and I demand satisfaction! [Aside.] I’ve got 
 this fellow, and I’ll stick to him. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] How shall I get rid of this fool ] 
 
 Pie. There’s my address, sir. No. 7, Rue de L’Echelle. 
 
 Duke. Very well—you shall hear from me. [Aside.] He 
 shall have a month in the Bastile ! 
 
 Pie. I shall expect it, sir. You will favour me with 
 your name and address, sir. 
 
 Duke. [Looking out , and aside.] Bravo, Brissac. He’s 
 got the pink domino away. She breaks from him, though, 
 and there she runs— 
 
 Pie. And to-morrow morning, sir, I shall teach you a 
 lesson. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] She’s mine ! she’s mine ! 
 
 [Runs out , l. u. e. 
 
 Pie. [Not 'perceiving his exit.] You will find that 1 am 
 not a man to be insulted with impunity. Your name, if 
 you please, sir. [ Turning.] Gone! Without giving his 
 name ! Well—it doesn’t signify—he’s got mine, and if he 
 isn’t a rank coward, I shall hear from him in the morning. 
 Yes, yes, I think I am sure of my duel! And now for a 
 mistress. If a pretty woman would but throw herself in 
 my way— 
 
 Enter the Duchess, hastily , l. u. e. 
 
 Duch. Save me ! save me ! 
 
 [Is fainting—Pierre catches her. 
 
 Pie. Here’s one at a wish—Madam, with the greatest 
 pleasure—1—eh—why, she has fainted. Poor soul, she 
 really has fainted. Here’s an adventure —somebody’s pur¬ 
 suing: her—she begged me to save her; I w 11 save her! 
 I’ll be her guardian angel, and waft her—Gad’s life ! it’s 
 as much as I can, though ! j Exit, carrying Duchess , n. 
 
Scene II.J 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 17 
 
 Scene II.— The Street. — Night. 
 
 Enter the Duke, running—he stops short , and looks on all 
 
 sides. 
 
 Duke. No trace of her, by all that’s provoking! Brissac 
 swore she made for the street. Confound that fool of a 
 Scaramouch who knocked my hat over my eyes; in that 
 instant I lost sight of her! 
 
 Enter Brissac, hastily . 
 
 Brissac ! you must have made a mistake—she is not this 
 way—let us return, and— 
 
 Bri. Not if you would remain unknown, sir. The police 
 are after us—I have had a sharp run for it. 
 
 Duke. The police—what for 1 
 
 Bri. Nay, 1 know not. The girl in blue made some 
 complaint to the Commissary. 
 
 Duke. Fiddle faddle-^-complaint—that we didn’t run 
 after her, I suppose ? 
 
 Bri. No; the offence, I think, seemed to be our pursuit 
 of the pink one. The old Doctor was half crazy. 
 
 Duke. Ha! ha! He little guessed who were his tor¬ 
 mentors. But as to the lady, she should not have taken 
 flight if she didn’t wish us to follow her. 
 
 AIR.— Duke. —(Old French Air, adapted by Mr. T. Coolte .) 
 
 With women, as with other game, the pleasure’s in the chase, 
 
 Once caught, the interest ceases—yet to blame us, they’ve the face! 
 If they would not be hunted, why so chary of their charms ? 
 
 Can’t they fling themselves at once into the nearest lover’s arms? 
 ’Tis wicked, it’s immoral, to run after them, they say, 
 
 When tis very clear we couldn’t if they didn’t run away. 
 
 [Exeunt , r. 
 
 Scene III.— Pierre's Lodging in the Rue de L’Echelle. — 
 A poorly furnished Apartment—a Window at the hack, 
 through which the Moon is streaming in—on r., the 
 door of his Bedchamber—on l., facing it, the door open¬ 
 ing on Staircase—the door of a Cupboard or Closet, L. 
 U. e. —A Table and two Chairs. 
 
 Enter Pierre, l., carrying the Duchess, who is still insen¬ 
 sible. 
 
 Vie. f Placing her in a chair , c.] Phew !—I've managed 
 
18 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [A cr 1. 
 
 it!—I didn’t mind the level ground ,* but six pair of stairs 
 breathed me ! I began to think I should never get up tho 
 last flight. Here we are, however, and the lady still in¬ 
 sensible ! Mercy upon us—if she should be dead !—I may 
 be hanged for murder! I’ve a great mind to carry her 
 down again into the street! [The Duchess moves and ut- 
 ters a sigh.] Ah ! she’s not dead, at all events ! I’ll get a 
 light and a glass of water! [Runs into Bedchamber , it. 
 
 Duck. [Reviving.] All dark !—where am I ?—what has 
 happened ]—Ma’lle Duval—Doctor—am I dreaming 1— 
 what place is this 1 —ah, I remember! an uproar, a confu¬ 
 sion—I was pursued by some one—Gracious powers, whi¬ 
 ther have they transported me ] Help ! help ! 
 
 Pierre. [Within. J Coming! coming, madam, directly! 
 
 Duch. A stranger’s voice ! Where shall I fly 1 
 
 Feeling about the room . 
 
 Re-enter Pierre, with a lighted candle , and a glass of wa~ 
 
 ter, r. 
 
 Pie. Here—here’s a glass of water, madam. I’m sorry 
 I’ve nothing better to offer you, but— [She turns, he starts.] 
 Oh ! what a beautiful creature ! 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] This is not the man who pursued me! 
 [Aloud. J Where am I, sir—speak, I implore you ? 
 
 P ie. In the Rue de L’Echelle, madam—No. 7—on tho 
 sixth story—a long way up ; but now you’re here, do take 
 a sip of water, you’ll find it refresh you; and pray sit 
 down, you’re quite safe here, 1 assure you—and after so 
 long a faint— [Aside.] What eyes she has got! 
 
 Duch. Who are you, sir—and how came 1 hither ? 
 
 Pie. My name is Pierre Paliiot, madam, of Beauvais, 
 and I had the pleasure of carrying you here from the 
 Opera House—I can’t exactly say at your request—but 
 you begged me to save you from somebody or something, 
 and I did it as well as I could, at so short a notice. 
 
 Duch. I do recollect appealing to some one. 
 
 Pie. I was that favoured individual, madam. Too hap¬ 
 py to afford any assistance to a lady of your rank and beau¬ 
 
 ty— 
 
 Duch. Rank !—do you know me 'l 
 
 Pie. I have not that honour, madam ; but I am con¬ 
 vinced, from your appearance, that you are a person of 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 19 
 
 distinction. It needs not the splendour of that ornament 
 [Pointing to a Locket , surrounded by brilliants , which hangs 
 from the Duchess* neck,] to assure me that its wearer is one 
 of the most exalted of her sex. [Aside.] They all like to 
 be thought so—and in her present position, up six pail of 
 stairs, why— 
 
 Duck. [Asidei] He is not an accomplice; and seems 
 obliging and respectful. [Aloud.] You said you were of 
 Beauvais, I think. 
 
 Pie. Yes, madam. 
 
 Duch. And perhaps, then, a stranger in Paris 1 
 
 Pie. I know but two persons in it: Jean Coquillard, 
 an old schoolfellow, and my uncle, Dr. Druggendraft. 
 
 Duch. Dr. Druggendraft your uncle 1 
 
 Pie. Do you know him, madam 1 
 
 Duch. I—no—I have heard of him. [Aside.] How sin¬ 
 gular. 
 
 Pie. The less you know of him the better, I can tell 
 you—he’s a good-for-nothing old fellow. Would you be¬ 
 lieve it, madam, I am the only son of his sister, and he 
 has forbidden me his doors, because my father is not so 
 well off in the world as he is! Oh, let me only make my 
 fortune, as I know I shall do one of these days— 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] His simplicity assures me that I have 
 nothing to fear. [Aloud.] My gratitude is due to you for 
 the service you have already rendered me ; may I request 
 you to add to the obligation by— 
 
 Pie. [Interrupting her. J Oh, madam, you have but to 
 speak, and— 
 
 Duch. By calling me a coach. 
 
 Pie. (l.) A coach ! [Aside.] Oh, hang it ! she wants to 
 g° 
 
 Duch. Do, pray get me a coach directly. 
 
 Pie. I question if at this hour I should find one. 
 
 Duch. Oh, yes, yes ! I am told all night long in some 
 places. 
 
 Pie. [Aside.] What shall I do ? if I get her a coach, 
 she’ll go away, and I may never see her again—I ought to 
 make a passionate declaration to her—What a fool!—I’ll 
 summon up courage, and say something very ardent ! [A- 
 loud.] Madam ! [ Advancing hastily , 
 
 Du-li. Sir! 
 
20 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act 1 
 
 Pie. I-—I’ll see if I can get you a coach. [ Crosses, l. 
 
 Duch. Let me entreat you to make haste—every mo¬ 
 ment is of consequence to me. 
 
 Pie. I am going this instant—you won’t mind being left 
 alone in this apartment ] 
 
 Duch. Oh, no, no— 
 
 Pie. It’s clean and airy. That window opens on the 
 street—there’s a very pretty prospect from it in the day 
 time, I can assure you. 
 
 j Duch. I have no doubt— 
 
 Pie. You can see the roofs of all the houses on the other 
 side of the way. 
 
 Duch. That must be highly interesting—but just at pre¬ 
 sent— 
 
 Pie. Ah ! just at present, the view inside is most in¬ 
 teresting to me! [Aside.] I’ve done it—I’ve said some¬ 
 thing ! 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] Will he never go! 
 
 Pie. And she’s evidently affected by it. BravoS I’m as 
 bold as a lion now. I’ll make a dash at once. [Aloud.] 
 Yes, madam, at this moment, I say the view within is 
 most interesting; for, oh, madam !— 
 
 [Falls on one knee , l. of her. 
 
 Duch. [Turning quickly and running to him.] Have you 
 hurt yourself] 
 
 Pie. Eh 1 Not at all. 
 
 Duch. Thank goodness ! [Helping him up.] 1 was afraid 
 you had. I wish you to make haste, certainly, but not to 
 endanger your limbs or your neck. 
 
 Pie. You’re very kind.—I’m much obliged to you—I— 
 I’ll go for the coach directly. [Exit, l. 
 
 Duch. Poor fellow ! I think he limps a little—’twas a' 
 awkward fall. Mercy on me ; I, alone, at this hour, with 
 a young man, in his apartments! Oh, into what a situation 
 has my foolish frolic plunged me.—What a place to live 
 in. [Looking around .] And yet, no doubt, he is as happy 
 here, as he would be in the finest furnished apartments in 
 the Palace of Versailles. And why not] After all, with 
 youth, health, and a clear conscience, one ought to be hap¬ 
 py anywhere. 
 
 AIR. —Duchess. 
 
 Did we mortals know how little on earth, 
 
 Was really for happiness needed; 
 
Scene II. J 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT* 
 
 21 
 
 What cares would fade—what love and mirth 
 Would plume every moment’s wing; 
 
 For content is the only true spring, 
 
 From which happiness ever proceeded— 
 
 And the source which we seek far and wide. 
 
 The poorest may find by his own fireside. 
 
 Now we dream ’tis this —now we fancy ’tis there , 
 
 No light on our dull sense breaking; 
 
 As an absent man hunts everywhere 
 
 For the hat which is under his arm. 
 
 For content is the only true charm, 
 
 Of this world a bright paradise making— 
 
 And the bliss which we seek far and wide, 
 
 Awaits us, unseen, by our own fireside. 
 
 Ah !—Somebody ascends the stairs*—They pause at the 
 door. If it should be— 
 
 Pierre. [ Without.] Open the door, if you please. 
 
 j Ouch. No !—It is his voice—It is Monsieur Palliot! 
 
 [ Opens the door t l. 
 
 Pinter Pierre, with a basket in one hand , some bread in the 
 other , and a bottle of wine under each arm . 
 
 Pie. I beg your pardon—but my hands, you see, are 
 full, and I could not turn the key. 
 
 Puch. Is the coach at the door ] 
 
 Pie. Ah, the coach ! I’m sorry to say, there wasn’t one 
 to be found. 
 
 Puch. How distressing ! You surely cannot have tried 
 —you have been gone so short a time ! 
 
 Pie. Oh, I ran, and looked in every direction, and hailed 
 two or three that were hired. It’s beginning to rain, and 
 they’re all gone in a moment.— [Aside. J I flatter myself I 
 told that lie famously. Oh, it’s a capital idea I’ve got now, 
 if I can but follow it up. 
 
 Puch. [Aside. j There is but one way left. [Aloud.] Sir, 
 you have shown so much readiness to oblige me, that I am 
 emboldened to ask you another favour. 
 
 Pie. A favour !—of me !—Oh, speak !—I— 
 
 [Endeavours to express his feelings by action , but is em¬ 
 barrassed by the provisions he is laden with. 
 
 Puch. May I request you, as no coach is to be obtained, 
 to see me safely home 1 
 
 Pie. See you home ! With the greatest pleasure—after 
 supper. 
 
22 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Dach. No, now, without delay. Give me your arm. 
 
 P ie. My arm—why, you see—at present—-just wait a 
 moment. [Putting down basket , fyc., on table.] I really am 
 so hungry, and I was sure you must be so, too, that I 
 thought a cold roast fowl, and a pate, and a glass of Bor¬ 
 deaux or Chablis, whichever you like best—I would have 
 brought some Champagne, but— [aside 1—but had no more 
 money. 
 
 Puck. Forme! I fear that you have put yourself to 
 expense. 
 
 Pie. Oh, don’t mention that, pray, madam, I’m only so * 
 ry that, not having expected company— [Running to the 
 closet.] I have two plates, however—indeed, I may Lay 
 three, almost, [showing a broken one,] and two glasses and 
 if you will condescend to put up with— 
 
 Puck. Believe me, I appreciate your kindness ; but just 
 at this moment I am too anxious, too alarmed, to fbel hun¬ 
 gry ; and if you will but enable me to reach homi in safe¬ 
 ty— 
 
 Pie. After supper. 
 
 P uch. No, now, now ! [A knock at the door , l. 
 
 Pie. A knock at my door I Who can that be I 
 
 Puck. My mask, my mask ! [Looking for it . 
 
 Pie. It can’t be Coquillard—and I know nobody else. 
 [Knock again.] Come in. 
 
 Puck. For mercy’s sake— [Bolts the door. 
 
 Pie. Don’t come in! [To her.] You’re quite right. I 
 beg your pardon. [Aloudh\ Stop a minute. 
 
 Puck. Where can I hide I tell me, tell me ! 
 
 [Snatching up mask and domino. 
 
 Pie. In here ; take the key. I’ll tap when they’re gone. 
 [Knocking again.] I’m coming. [Puchess enters bedchamber 
 hastily.] Now, then. [Opens door , L. 
 
 Enter Duke, l. 
 
 Puke. Sorry to intrude, but— 
 
 Pie. [Aside.] My antagonist! [Aloud.] I say, your watch 
 must be fast. 
 
 Puke. Fast! What d’ye mean I 
 
 Pie. Why, I expected you in the morning—but not be¬ 
 fore day-break. I’ts only half-past three. 
 
 Puke. Expected ! eh I [Looking at him.] Ah ! I’ve 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A MIGHT. 
 
 23 
 
 seen you before—you are the young gentleman who chal¬ 
 lenged me, I think ! You gave me your address, I be- V 
 lieve 1 
 
 Pie. Of course I did, or how did you find me out. 
 
 Duke. Faith, by accident on this occasion—for I had 
 forgotten all about our quarrel. 
 
 P ie. You had 1 But I have not, sir, and I insist— 
 
 Duke. Hush—stop. I am pursued by the police, and 
 have taken refuge here. If you make a disturbance, or 
 refuse me an asylum at present, I shall be taken, and you 
 may then go without the satisfaction you require. 
 
 Pie. (r.) That’s all very well; but what have you done 
 to be pursued by the police 1 Perhaps you’re a pick¬ 
 pocket ? 
 
 Duke. No, no, don’t be alarmed; I’m quite gentleman 
 enough for your purpose. I have merely been giving 
 chase to a pretty woman, who ran away from me ! 
 
 Pie. I’m not surprised at that— 
 
 Duke. Eh 
 
 Pie. I say, I’m not surprised at that. 
 
 Duke. At my giving chase % 
 
 Pic. No—at her running away. 
 
 Duke. There’s no accounting for tastes, certainly. Well, 
 she succeeded in giving me the slip, and whilst with a friend 
 I was hunting about for some trace of her, the police, who 
 had been set upon us—for what reason, I can’t imagine,, 
 as we had been guilty of nothing more than a common 
 masquerade frolic—came up, and as I had particular rea 
 sons for not wishing to get into their hands— 
 
 Pie. I’m not surprised at that. 
 
 Duke. Eh 1 
 
 Pie. I say, I’m not surprised at that. 
 
 Duke. I declare, you’re quite severe this morning—how¬ 
 ever, to end my story—I was obliged to knock down one 
 man, while my friend tripped up the other, and then took 
 to my heels with a whole pack after me—seeing a dark 
 passage without a door to it, just as I turned the corner 
 cf this street, I stepped in and let them pass ire in full cry 
 —and then softly felt my way up six pair of stairs, till I 
 saw a light from under this door, and heard voices— 
 
 Pie. Ah ! you heard voices. 
 
 Duke. Yes—one was n female’s. You are married, I 
 suppose. 
 
24 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Pie. No, sir, I am not. 
 
 Duke. Not—oh, then, I beg you a thousand pardons. 
 I wouldn’t intrude for the world. If you would just have 
 the kindness to step down stairs— 
 
 Pie. Step down stairs ! What for ? 
 
 Duke. To see if the coast is clear; and if so, call me 
 a coach. 
 
 Pie. Call you a coach! [Aside. J Confound his impu¬ 
 dence ! He wants a coach now. [Aloud.\ ’Sdeath, sir ! 
 do you take me for a porter ? Go and call a coach for 
 yourself! 
 
 Duke. But I tell you, if I am seen, I may be taken. 
 
 Pie. What do I care— 
 
 Duke. How ? You refuse ? 
 
 Pie. Sir, I’m engaged. I have company, and I must 
 request you to walk down stairs. 
 
 Duke. Ah ! you’ve company—true—and I see supper 
 ready for two—and you are not married—eh ? 
 
 Pie. Sir, you oblige me to tell you— 
 
 Duke. [Pinching his ear.] Oh, you sly rogue. 
 
 Pie. Be quiet, will you. Let go my ear. 
 
 Duke. I say, is she pretty ?—humph ! 
 
 Pie. Yes—no—what’s that to you, sir ? 
 
 Duke. And young, of course—sixteen—eighteen—eh ? 
 
 Pie. Was there ever—what’s that to you? I shall do 
 something desperate, if you don’t go ! 
 
 Duke. I’ll wager, now—some piquante little grisette— 
 
 Pie. Grisette ! No, sir, she’s not a grisette ! [Aside. J 
 Egad, I’ll frighten him ! [Aloud.] She’s a lady of quality, 
 sir, and if you don’t go directly, she— 
 
 Duke. Ha, ha, ha ! A lady of quality ; and fond of you f 
 my dear fellow ! She must be a person of high rank, no 
 doubt. Perhaps I have the honour of her acquaintance 
 May I beg an introduction? 
 
 Pie. He’s not frightened at all. [Aloud.] Will you get 
 out of the house ? 
 
 Duke. Directly, if you’ll fetch me a coach. Seriously, 
 I’ve no wish to disturb your happiness, my good friend, 
 but I won’t stir till a coach is at the door, I tell you fairly. 
 
 [Sits. 
 
 Pie. [Aside. ] He has sat down ! He has positively sat 
 down ! I don’t think I could fling him down stairs, if I 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 25 
 
 tried ; and the noise would disturb everybody in the house 
 —and then she misrht be seen. 1 do believe I’d better set 
 him a coach- [Aloud.] If I get a coach, will you go quietly 
 and instantly I 
 
 Duke. I will, and fight you as soon as you please after 
 day-break. 
 
 Pie. You’ll tell me where I shall find you, then? 
 
 Duke. Certainly. 
 
 Pie. And you won’t attempt to enter that room while 
 I’m gone ? 
 
 Duke. Oh ! She’s in that room, is she ? 
 
 [ Comes down , l. c. 
 
 Pie. That’s no answer to my question ! 
 
 Duke. On my honour as a gentleman ! 
 
 Pie. I’ll go and get you a coach. 
 
 Duke. Bravo! 
 
 Pie. [Aside.] She has locked herself in—and I shall be 
 back in two minutes—I’ll find a coach for him soon enough, 
 I warrant me ! [Exit, l. 
 
 Duke. Ha, ha !—It must be confessed, my visit here was 
 rather mal-a-propos. Poor devil !—I shouldn’t have liked 
 it myself—to be sent for a coach—-just as he was about to 
 sit down to supper—tete-a-tete—and—ha, ha, ha!—with 
 a lady of quality! Great quality, no doubt—a grocer’s 
 wife, or perhaps a doctor’s ! Faith, I don’t know why I 
 should say that, though—ladies of quality have been known 
 to take odd fancies. Is there no getting a peep at the wo¬ 
 man—I’m curious to ascertain—I promised I wouldn’t 
 enter that room—but perhaps I might lure her out of it— 
 suppose I just tapped at the door—she might think me 
 gone, and that it was her friend—I’ll try, by Cupid ! 
 f Be steals softly to the door of the chamber , r., and taps.] 
 No movement—I’ll try again. [Tapping again.] The key 
 turns! 
 
 [The Duchess opens the door and comes out cautiously , 
 the Duke receding behind the door as she enters ; she 
 has on her mask and domino. 
 
 Duch. [ Catching sight of him as she turns.] Ah ! 
 
 [Endeavours to re-enter the chamber, but the Duke has 
 pushed to the door, and stands before it. 
 
 Duke. My pink domino, by all that’s fortunate ! [<S%d 
 attempts to escape, he holds herk] No, no, you’re caught now 
 my charming runaway ! 
 
i 
 
 26 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. [Act i. 
 
 Duch. \Aside.] My husband !—I shall die ! 
 
 Duke. Don’t be alarmed !—I’m the most discreet of 
 men ! Let me see that beautiful face—for beautiful 1 am 
 sure it is—and be assured, that if I recognize the wife or 
 daughter of the best friend I have in the world, I am too 
 
 O # 
 
 well bred to mention it to anybody. 
 
 [ Trying to take off her mask. 
 
 Duck. Sir! [Struggling with him. J I entreat—l implore! 
 
 Duke. Oh, you may alter your voice as much as you 
 please—it would be useless, if I had ever heard it before. 
 I’ve an extraordinary quick ear and eye ! A person I have 
 once seen or conversed with, I should detect through any 
 disguise. 
 
 Duck. [Aside. ] Merciful powers ! 
 
 [Draws the domino closer round her. 
 
 Duke. And I am therefore certain, that till this happy 
 niojit, we have never met. 
 
 O 7 
 
 Duck. [Aside.] Ha ! Is he serious ] Does he really 
 not suspect— 
 
 Duke. So let me see your face, if but to convince me. 
 
 Duck. If you are a gentleman, forbear ! 
 
 Duke. Upon my honour, you are a very mysterious per¬ 
 sonage ! You have either a most especial and singular 
 horror of me, or you have some dreadfully jealous hus¬ 
 band, or tyrant father, of whom you stand in awe. May 
 I ask if the old gentleman whose arm you hung so fondly 
 on at the ball, stands in either of those relations to you ? 
 
 Duck ,, [Aside.] What shall I say h [Aloud.] He is my 
 uncle, sir. 
 
 Duke. Your uncle ! indeed! [Aside.] Dr. Druggendraft 
 her uncle. She little dreams I know him. [Aloud.] And 
 the young man in whose chamber I find you is—your cou 
 sin, no doubt I 
 
 Duch. He is—you are right, sir. 
 
 Duke. I thought it must be so. And you often come 
 and sup with your cousin I 
 
 Ducli. [Eagerly.] Indeed, I came not to sup with him, 
 and it is the first time I ever was in this house. 
 
 Duke. Oh, come, come ! I have no right to ask ques¬ 
 tions; but, at the same time, I am not bound to believe— 
 
 j Duch. I declare, solemnly ! 
 
 Duke. Nay, if you wish to prove the truth of what you 
 assert, there is but one way— 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 27 
 
 Duck, And that is— 
 
 Duke. To sup with me, my angel! 
 
 Duck, How! 
 
 Duke. Charming creature, whoever you are, do you 
 believe in love at first sight ? 
 
 Duck. No. 
 
 Duke. You are wrong, then. I swear, even the little 
 that I have seen of you has bewitched me ! From the in¬ 
 stant I set eyes upon you.at the Masquerade, 1 felt that 
 my heart was irrevocably yours ! 
 
 Duck. [Aside.] So, so, my faithful husband ! Oh, if J 
 dared! 
 
 Duke. Come—supper is ready, you see, and I a»m anx 
 ious to believe you. Let us sit down. 
 
 Duck. What, in the absence of— 
 
 Duke. Your cousin'? To be sure—it will be the more 
 agreeable. This foolish young fellow is not worthy of you 
 —you must know he is not. Transfer your affection to 
 me—I will return it with ardour ! Reign supreme in this 
 heart, of which you are the chosen sovereign ! 
 
 Duck. [Aside.] The traitor! And could he dare, after 
 this, to upbraid me ] [Aloud.] But I have no affection for 
 this young man, sir; and 1 repeat, this is the first time I 
 have entered these doors. 
 
 Duke. Sit down to supper, and I will believe everything 
 you say. [Gently forcing her into a chair , r., sits l. of ta¬ 
 ble, and kisses her hand. 
 
 Duck. Well, if you insist! [Aside.] Oh, Duke, Duke, 
 what a lesson do you deserve ! 
 
 Duke . Allow me. [Helping her, then himself] By no 
 means a bad dish ! Won’t you take off your mask ? 
 
 Duck. No—lymake it a condition, on my part, to pie- 
 serve my incognita! 
 
 Duke. Be it so, then. And yet, as you are unknown to 
 me personally—for I’ll wager you are not a resident in 
 Paris-—I fancy I can detect an accent— 
 
 Duck. You are right. [Aside.] Let me endeavour to mis¬ 
 lead him altogether. [Aloud.] I will acknowledge thus 
 much to you. My husband is a draper at Dijon. It was 
 a match of inclination on my part, and I am still fonder 
 of him than he deserves. 
 
 Duke. Ah ! you should conquer that weakness, and treat 
 him as he deserves. 
 
28 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. [Act 1. 
 
 Duck. He may drive me to such a step, should he con¬ 
 tinue in his present dissolute courses. 
 
 Duke. Is he in Paris 1 
 
 Duck. 1 have reason to believe he is, though his busi¬ 
 ness requires his presence elsewhere. I came on a visit 
 to my uncle, and being induced by curiosity to go to the 
 Masquerade, was separated from him in the crowd, pur¬ 
 sued by you, and protected by this young—by my cou¬ 
 sin. 
 
 Duke. Ah ! by your cousin—you had almost forgotten 
 the relationship. We’ll drink his health. [Pours out wine 
 for Loth.] And now, confidence for confidence. I am a 
 gentleman of Normandy. My father spent a fortune in 
 the king’s service, and at the end of forty years, received 
 through the royal munificence, a pension, on which it "was 
 impossible to exist. He died, poor old man, and I came 
 to Paris to urge the claims of the family. My journey has 
 been successful—I have found favour at Court—1 am pro¬ 
 mised a regiment, and with that and my wife’s little for¬ 
 tune— 
 
 Duck. Your wife! 
 
 Duke. Oh, yes, I’m married also—to a very good, quiet 
 sort of person, who never troubles her head about my pro¬ 
 ceedings. I, like yourself, was induced by curiosity to visit 
 the Masquerade—saw you, and was instantly smitten with 
 an uncontrollable passion—followed you, as you are aware 
 —was followed in my turn by the police, and took refuge 
 here, in obedience to a secret presentiment that here I 
 should find you ! 
 
 Duck. [Aside.] Frightened as I am, I can scarcely con¬ 
 trol my desire to burst out laughing in his impudent face. 
 [Aloud.] How extraordinary ! And you are really trying 
 to obtain a regiment— 
 
 Duke. Only to give your husband the contract for cloth¬ 
 ing it! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Duck. Ridiculous ! 
 
 Duke. Nay, I did not say so of your story. 
 
 Duck. But mine is true, sir. 
 
 Duke. Well, mine is not, except as regards my love foi 
 you ; in token of which, I beg you to accept this ring! 
 
 [ Taking a ring off his own Jingr **, and placing it on the 
 Duchess's. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A MC-HT. 
 
 29 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] It shall be a token of thy infidelity ! 
 
 Duke. And in return, grant me one kiss! 
 
 Duch. Sir ! 
 
 Duke. Oh, a kiss given by a gentleman of Normandy to 
 the wife of a draper of Dijon, can compromise nobody. 
 
 Duch. Let me go, I insist! [ Struggling. 
 
 Duke. Nay, a kiss 1 will have ! 
 
 [Kisses her as the door opens. 
 
 Enter Pierre, l. 
 
 Pie. The coacli is here—Ah ! 
 
 Duke. Confound the booby ! 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] How will this end I 
 
 Pie. Very pretty—very pretty, upon my word! [Aside.] 
 And 1, who was afraid even to kiss her hand ! [Aloud and 
 fiercely.] I thought, sir, you promised, upon your honour, 
 not to enter that room I 
 
 Duke. And I kept my promise, sir. 
 
 Pie. What! Do you mean to say she came out on pur¬ 
 pose, then—and—oh—well—I declare! [ Crosses to the 
 Table , and looking at supper.] If they hav’n’t supped, ac¬ 
 tually supped, both of them, without me ! Well, if I didn’t 
 see it with mine own eyes—I couldn’t have believed it 
 possible. 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] How can I explain to him ! 
 
 Pie And do you think I shall put up with this quietly 1 ? 
 No, sir! [Violently.] I’ll have satisfaction here, upon the 
 instant! One of us shall fall before the faithless creature’s 
 face ! 
 
 Duch. Faithless ! [Aside.] What will the Duke imagine! 
 [To Pierre.] How dare you— 
 
 Pie. Don’t talk to me ! I’m desperate ! Eat my sup¬ 
 per together, whilst I was running all over Paris in the rain 
 to get him a coach ! 
 
 Duke. (l). [Aside.] I must stop this fellow’s mouth. [To 
 him. 1 Hear me— 
 
 Pie. I have no swords—but knives for daggers— 
 
 f 'Takes them. 
 
 Duch. Hold, madman! [Aside to Pierre.) ’Tis my hus¬ 
 band ! 
 
 Pie. [Thunderstruck.] Eh ! 
 
 Duke. [Aside to him. j Hark in your ear—I am the Duke 
 de Chartres. 
 
30 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 Act 1 
 
 Pie. [ Overwhelmed — aside.) The king’s nephew and her 
 husband ! Oh, what will become of me. The—he—she 
 —my head spins round—I must take the liberty of sitting 
 down for a few minutes. [Sits, c. 
 
 Duke. Be calm, young man ; you surely must see the 
 impropriety of making all this disturbance before a fait 
 lady, who has done you the honour of mounting six pair 
 of stairs, for your sake. 
 
 Pie. [Aside.) If he should ever know she’s his wife ! 
 I’m a lost creature ! The Bastile for life ! Perhaps the 
 ! 
 
 Duke. Positively, you are much to blame; see how you 
 have terrified her. [Apjncaching her.) Compose yourself, 
 madam. [Aside to her.) Where can I see you again ] 
 [ Aloud to Pierre.) And believe me, you are unjust to call 
 her faithless; for it was I who lured her out of your cham¬ 
 ber, and insisted upon her supping with me. By Cupid, 
 you are a lucky fellow, and ought to be perfectly contented 
 —to be loved by a beautiful woman of quality, as you say 
 she is— 
 
 Pie. I—no—I don’t say any such thing—that is—I don’t 
 know who she is. I never saw her before, and she doesn’t 
 love me, I assure you ! [Aside) Oh, dear! oh, dear ! 
 
 Duke. Nay, nay, I have no right—it was your own con¬ 
 fession, and so farewell! I leave you together. 
 
 Pie. No, no, I object. [Holding him. 
 
 Duke. You object—to what] 
 
 Duch. [Aside to Pierre.) Let him go, for Heaven’s sake! 
 
 Pie. [ Aside to her.) Let him go ! What, for him to 
 fancy—Don’t tell me—he shall do no such thing! [Aloud.) 
 Sir, if you quit this room, I shall go with you. 
 
 Duke. You ] 
 
 Pie. Yes, me ! I insist upon your taking me with you! 
 
 Duck. [Aside.) And what is to become of me 1 
 
 Pie. Eh! Well, then, all three, w-e’ll all three go to¬ 
 gether ; but I won’t be left alone with—with this lady. 
 
 Duke. His jealousy has disordered his wits. 
 
 Duch. [Aside.) In his alarm, he will betray me ! Ah, 
 he said there was a coach at the door! If I could but 
 contrive. [Aside to Duke) Lock him up in that room, and 
 I will accept your protection home. 
 
 Duke. (Aside.) Ah, delicious! ( Aloud to Pierre.) One 
 word, my good friend, with you alone— 
 
»SCE3E III.] 
 
 TKF. FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 31 
 
 Pie. Alone—where ? 
 
 Duke. Any where. In this chamber— 
 
 [Leading him towards Bedchamber , r. 
 Pie. Well, but— 
 
 Duke. Not a syllable ; here, go in —(Pushes him in .)— 
 and stay there. (Pulling key out of door, shutting the door 
 suddenly , and bolting the door on the outside ; at the 
 same moment, the Duchess, who has watched her op¬ 
 portunity, slips out by the outer door, l., and locks it 
 audibly on the outside , leaving the Duke a prisoner 
 in his turn. 
 
 Duke. Now*then!— [Turning.] Gone !— [Runs to door , l., 
 and trying to open it.] —and the door locked !—The cun¬ 
 ning gipsy ! —[Trying to force it with his foot.] Confound 
 the door! 
 
 Pie. [LTammering at the other door.] Let me out, let me 
 out! 
 
 Duke. If from this window I could hail the coachman. 
 [Runs and. opens the window.] ’Sdeath, he’s driving off!— 
 Hallo!—Hey !—Coach ! As I live, she’s in it! Outge- 
 neralled every way ! 
 
 [Noise of footsteps ascending the stairs, followed by a 
 loud knocking at the door. 
 
 Duke. Who’s there I 
 
 [Voice without .] Open, in the King’s name. 
 
 Duke. ’Tis the Guard ! How to escape them— 
 
 Pie. [ Within.] Let me out! let me out! 
 
 Duke. Ha! 
 
 [Runs and, unlocks the Bedchamber door, and blows out 
 the candle, as the Guard force open the door from 
 without, and hastily enter , l. Pierre rushes out of 
 the bedchamber, r., and is seized by them The 
 Duhe slips out unobserved, l. 
 
 OJJicer. You are our prisoner! 
 
 Pie. What for ? What have I done ? 
 
 Offi. Silence !—March ! 
 
 FINALE.—Officer.—(“ Garde a vous .”) 
 
 March away, march away. 
 
 We’ve orders you to seize on ; 
 
 But whether ’tis for treason, 
 
 Or for murder, we can’t say. 
 
 March away, march away. 
 
32 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Pierre. 
 
 The treason’s against me, sir, 
 And murder it will be, sir ; 
 
 If I for it must pay. 
 Well-a-day, well-a-day! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 March away, &c. 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I.— Ante-chamber in the Palais Royal .— On r., the 
 door of the Apartment of the Duchess de Chartres—on 
 l., a smaller door , supposed to lead to a private Stair¬ 
 case. At the bach, a 'pair of folding doors , opening on a 
 Gallery. 
 
 The Duchess opens the door , l., from private Staircase , 
 peeps in, then enters quickly. She has on her Domino, 
 and the Mash in her hand. 
 
 Duch. Fortune be praised, no one yet stirring! I have 
 arrived safe, undiscovered—what an adventure—and what 
 an escape ! The Duke in Paris—at the Masquerade—and 
 oh, Philip, Philip ! mine was an act of folly—of impru¬ 
 dence—but yours—yet would the world pass with a smile 
 over yoir infidelity, and visit my childish frolic with the 
 severest condemnation. 
 
 AIR.— Duchess. —(“J’ etais bien jeune encore.”) 
 
 Yielding to each temptation, 
 
 Man in his reason triumph may, 
 
 Whilst poor woman’s reputation, 
 
 One light word can cast away. 
 
 Such is the regulation ! 
 
 Could we with men change places, 
 
 How much our conduct their’s would shame 
 p ar, in every hundred cases, 
 
 Ninety-niue would do the same ! 
 
 At a rough calculation ! 
 
 r Exit into her own apartment, r 
 
Scene I.J 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 33 
 
 Enter Dr. Druggendraft , from folding doors , n c. 
 
 Dr.D. Six o’clock ! Broad daylight, and yet 1.0 news 
 of the Duchess. Horrible suspense! if her absence is once 
 known to the household, I am a ruined man ! I said some¬ 
 thing terrible would happen—I knew it, I felt it!—and 
 poor Ma’lle Duval, she’ll be dismissed also—and then I 
 must stifle my ardent passion, as she will have neither sa¬ 
 lary nor influence, and consequently it would be the height 
 of imprudence to make her Madame Druggendraft. Ah ! 
 she is here. 
 
 Enter Ma’lle Duval, from folding doors , r. c. 
 
 What news, dearest Ma’lle % Has the Duchess yet re¬ 
 turned % 
 
 Ma’lle D. Alas, no ! I have seen nothing—heard nothing 
 of the Duchess; but I have just been told that the man 
 is arrested. 
 
 Dr. D. The man !—what man ? 
 
 Ma’lle D. A man who was seen carrying a lady in a 
 pink domino through the streets about the time we missed 
 Her Royal Highness. 
 
 Dr. D. Carrying her—carrying a princess through the 
 streets !—what desecration ! what profanation ! My dearest 
 Ma’lle Duval, we are lost—utterly undone !—it must all 
 be made public. 
 
 Ma’lle D. I trust not—the Lieutenant of the Police 
 himself is not aware of the name or rank of the lady—he 
 was merely ordered to trace and arrest the persons who 
 were guilty of an outrage that caused a disturbance at the 
 Masquerade—so, if the Duchess has but escaped — 
 
 Dr.D. But the man may know who she is, and name 
 her. 
 
 Ma’lle j D. He wouldn’t, for his own sake; it would 
 make the affair more serious for him. But you must ma¬ 
 nage to see him, and interrogate him directly. Hark ! 
 there’s a foot on the private stairs now!—it must be the 
 Duchess ! 
 
 Dr. D. Has no one else a key of that entrance ? 
 
 Ma’lle D. Nobody but the Duke, win is at Compeigne 
 with the army. 
 
 Dr. D. Then it must be she. ( Running to the door as it 
 
34 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 oj)ens.) Thank goodness! your Royal Highness has re¬ 
 turned at last! 
 
 Enter Duke, l. u. e. 
 
 Duke. “At last!” 
 
 Dr. D. 8f Malle D. [ Aside .] The Duke ! 
 
 Duke. Did you expect me, then, Doctor ! You are si¬ 
 lent ! What’s the matter ]—what has happened—have I 
 been sent for, and passed the express on the road ] Why 
 don’t you speak, Ma’lle Duval, are you dumb too ] 
 
 Malle D. (l.) Me, Monseigneur ! I haven’t said any¬ 
 thing. 
 
 Duke. Precisely so—and it is therefore my request that 
 you would say something in explanation of this strange 
 embarrassment, and of your appearance here at this unu¬ 
 sual hour. 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur—the fact is—the Duchess—as 
 Ma’lle Duval will inform your Royal Highness.— [Aside 
 to her .] Bear me out—we can’t be worse off for a lie or 
 two. 
 
 Duke. Well, sir—the Duchess I 
 
 Dr. D. Her Royal Highness, I regret to say, was rather 
 indisposed last night—and I was anxious to hear from 
 Ma’lle Duval the earliest report this morning. 
 
 Duke. Indisposed ! I must see her instantly. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] Ah, the devil! [Aloud.] No, no, Mon¬ 
 seigneur, do not alarm yourself—Her Royal Highness is 
 much better—and has just fallen into the most tranquil 
 sleep. If I might advise— [A hell rings, r. 
 
 Malle D. [Aside.] The Duchess’ bell ! She is safe, 
 then ! [Exit, r. 
 
 Duke. Why, that’s her bell! She is awake, you hear ! 
 
 Dr. D. [A side.] Returned ! is it possible ! 
 
 Duke . 1 may go now! 
 
 Dr. D. Pardon me, Monseigneur—condescend to wait 
 one minute—till Ma’lle Duval has prepared her Royal 
 Highness for your sudden arrival. 
 
 Duke. Then she did not know you had sent] 
 
 Dr. D. No—a private messenger of my own—there was 
 no occasion to—it was scarcely necessary—indeed—I may 
 say—in point of fact— [Aside. ] I have not the slightest no¬ 
 tion of what I am saying. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 35 
 
 Duke. [Aside i} There is sorr.e mystery here. If the 
 Duchess was ill—how came he at the Masquerade last 
 night I \Aloud.\ It is singular encugh, that I should have 
 suddenly determined on a visit to Paris at such a moment. 
 I have travelled all night to give the Duchess an agreeable 
 surprise. 
 
 Dr. j D. [Boivingi} Your Royal Highness is a pattern for 
 all married men. 
 
 Duke. Ahem !—and you, Doctor, for all household phy¬ 
 sicians—for you appear to have been up all night also— 
 you look pale and harassed. 
 
 Dr. D. How could I sleep, while her Royal Highness 
 was suffering ? 
 
 Duke. [Aside.} The old hypocrite ! [Aloud.} And through 
 the music and noise of the Masquerade ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.} The Masquerade ! [Aloud.} The Mas¬ 
 querade ] oh, yes—true—there was a Masquerade last 
 night—in the theatre—I did hear occasionally—in my 
 apartments—they adjoin. 
 
 Duke. I thought you might—in your apartments. [Aside. J 
 I shall dismiss this fellow. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. J I wish he had not mentioned the Mas¬ 
 querade. 
 
 Enter Ma’lle Duval, r. 
 
 Ma’lle D. Her Royal Highness is anxious to see Mon¬ 
 seigneur. 
 
 Duke. I come. Doctor, you must really take more care 
 of yourself—you are too assiduous—too much devoted to 
 your art, and to your patients—many such nights as the 
 last, would destroy you ! 
 
 [Exeunt Duke and Ma’lle Duval , r. 
 
 Dr. D. He never spoke a truer word in his life !— 
 many such nights !—Another such would be the death ot 
 me ! 
 
 Re-enter Ma’lle Duval, r. 
 
 Well, well,—she was really there, then I Tell me quick 
 —what has happened I 
 
 Ma’lle D. I cannot stop—take this order, and get the 
 young man discharged whom they have arrested. It is 
 her Royal Highness’ wish that he should be set at liberty 
 immediately, and treated with the greatest kindness. 
 
36 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A MU IHT. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 Dr. D. Bless me !—but did you tell the Duchess I said 
 she had been ill. 
 
 Mu’lie D. Yes, yes, she. will bear you out. Go and do 
 as 1 tell you—1 must search for a trinket she has lost- *• 
 perhaps on the private staircase. 
 
 [Exit by small door, l. u. e. 
 
 Dr. D. Set the yuung man at liberty, and treat him with 
 the greatest kindness ! With all my heart; but if I had 
 not the highest opinion of the Duchess, I confess, such an 
 order, under such circumstances—ah, there goes the pii- 
 soner. \ Pierre is seen passing along the Gallery, guarded.\ 
 Stop, stop ! [To Guards, without noticing Pierre.] Here’s 
 an order for you to return—I will answer for that young 
 gentleman’s appearance, if necessary. [Ea’t Guards.] Sir, 
 \to Pierre, and bowing very low as he advances ,]—I have the 
 honour to convey to you the commands of— [recognising 
 Him. ] Pierre Pal Hot! 
 
 Pie. Why, didn’t you know me, uncle ? 
 
 Dr. D. Pierre Palliot!—Is it possible 1 There must bo 
 some mistake !—this cannot be the person— 
 
 Pie. Then you did not order me to be arrested ? 
 
 Dr. D. I !—no— 
 
 Pie. And you will let me go, then ? 
 
 Dr. D. Yes—that is, no—if— [Aside. J Bless me !—It’s 
 very awkward—if be should be the man 1—I must not 
 compromise the Duchess. [Aloud. J Do you know why you 
 were arrested 1 
 
 Pie. For carrying a lady from the Opera House in a 
 pink domino. 
 
 Dr. D. But you didn’t— 
 
 Pie. Yes, I did, but— 
 
 Dr. D. You did ! Hush!—hold your tongue!—don’t 
 acknowledge it for the world ! There’s no dungeon too 
 deep for you, if it were known. 
 
 Pie. Why, it was at her own request! 
 
 Dr. D. At her own request!—impossible! [Aside.] And 
 jet, when I reflect—her singular determination to go to the 
 ball—her order now to treat him with the greatest kindness 
 —and—ay, to be sure—this handkerchief, which she threw 
 *Vom her carriage. 
 
 O r. 
 
 Pie. [Seeing it.] Ha!—that’s mine—give it me back. 
 
 T iU' jy f or t ] ie wQj-ltP Rash young man—if found 
 
37 
 
 Scene I.J THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 on you, it would be your destruction. 
 
 [ Putting it hastily into his pocket again. 
 
 Pie. It would 1 
 
 Dr. D. Yes, yes—but you must not stay here—you may 
 be seen—interrogated. Come with me—you shall remain 
 
 CJ %1 
 
 concealed in my apartment for the present—anything you 
 require shall be provided for you. 
 
 Pie. My dear uncle, all this anxiety on my account! 
 You have repented, then, your ill usage of me. Let me 
 embrace you. 
 
 Dr.D. There, there, that’ll do. There’s no time to be 
 lost—come quickly, before the Duke—ha ! he’s here. 
 
 Enter Duke, r. 
 
 Duke. [ Seeing Pierre.] Hey-day—my friend from the 
 Rue de L’Echelle here, and with the Doctor! 
 
 Dr. j D. [Aside to Pierre.] Steal off—steal off. 
 
 Pie. [Aside.] It’s no use—he has seen me. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.) I must give him a hint not to know me. 
 [Aloud.) Who is that young man, Doctor I 
 Dr. D. This young man, Monseigneur— 
 
 Duke. Yes—what does he here ] [Crossing, and aside to 
 Pierre.) We have never met before, mind. 
 
 Dr.D. He does nothing here, Monseigneur—he only- 
 just— 
 
 Pie. I only just came to see my uncle, Monseigneur. 
 Duke. Your uncle! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.) Confound him ! What did he say that 
 for ] 
 
 Duke. Who is your uncle ] 
 
 P ie. Dr. Druggendraft—my mother’s brother—my mo¬ 
 ther married Michel Palliot—now blacksmith and farrier 
 at Beauvais. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.) Blisters on his tongue ! [Aloud.) I beg 
 your Royal Highness to believe it was entirely without my 
 consent that she formed so degrading an alliance. 
 
 Duke. The Doctor your uncle f [Aside.) Why, then, the 
 woman’s story was true, perhaps, and I may still trace her. 
 [Aloud.) Have you any other nephew, doctor] 
 
 Dr.D. Not that I know of, Monseigneur. 
 
 Pie. No, I am an only son. 
 
 Duke. Ay, but you have a niece, p ,T rhaps— 
 
38 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 Pie. No, I have no sister. 
 
 Duke. No, but you may have a cousin by some other 
 sister or brother of the doctor—or of your father. 
 
 Pie. No, I have no cousin. 
 
 Duke. Indeed! [Aside.) So, so—the young rogue, then, 
 has actually been cutting out his uncle !—a capital joke '< 
 (Aloud.) Well, Doctor, as your only nephew, this young 
 man is entitled to your protection, and out of regard for 
 you, I shall accord him mine. 
 
 Pie. Oh, Monseigneur ! [Aside.) If he should ever find 
 out! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.) He, too !—and of all men ! [Aloud.\ 
 Oh, Monseigneur 1 — [Aside.) If he had the slightest suspi¬ 
 cion ! 
 
 Duke. It is my pleasure that he shall remain in the Pa 
 lace—we will see what can be done for him. 
 
 Pie. [Aside.) Here’s a piece of luck ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.) Poor Duke! Poor innocent man ! It’s 
 quite shocking to think of it ! 
 
 Duke. [Aside to Pierre.) You know, of course, where to 
 find your fair friend again 1 
 
 Pie. No—do you ? 
 
 Duke. Not I. She played me a rare trick—went off in 
 the coach you fetched for me ! Ha, ha, ha ! I had to 
 walk through the wet! Ha, ha, ha i 
 
 Pie. No, had you, though I Ha, ha, ha! (Aside.) He 
 doesn’t suspect—it’s all right—my fortune’s made ! (A- 
 loud.) Ha, ha ! Capital! 
 
 Duke. The cunning baggage—locked me in one room, 
 whilst I locked you in the other ! Ha, ha! 
 
 (Both lough together. 
 
 Dr. D. (Aside, and observing them.) Laughing; both 
 aughing, ready to kill themselves ! I’m paralyzed—are 
 they mad, or am 1 1 
 
 Duke. (To Pierre.) Harkye ! Is the Doctor very fonci 
 of her 1 
 
 Pie. The Doctor I 
 
 Duke. Ay, your uncle ; you know she is his mistress. 
 
 Pie. His mistress! Oh, yes, I know she is his mistress. 
 
 Duke. Ha, ha ! Doe3 he suspect that he has a rival in 
 you I 
 
 Pie Hasn’t the least idea, I should say. 
 
Scene I.’ 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT 
 
 39 
 
 Duke. Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Doctor!—and to think this 
 fellow, with his simple air—Ha, ha !—1 see now the rea¬ 
 son of his fright, when I told him who I was. He thought 
 I should tell his uncle. Ha, ha, ha ! ’Gad, Pve a great 
 mind to do so, too—’twould be a glorious bit of mischief-— 
 for whilst the two dogs were quarrelling, the third might 
 run off with the bone. Ha, ha, ha! [Aloud. j Go, my young 
 friend, to your uncle’s apartments, and order some break¬ 
 fast for yourself. I have a word to say to the Doctor. 
 Rely on my protection. 
 
 Pic. Yes, Monseigneur. [Aside.} My uncle’s mistress ! 
 Who can he take her to be ] Perhaps it wasn’t the Du¬ 
 chess, after all ! Ha! [Sees a corner of the handkerchief 
 which the Doctor has hurriedly replaced , hanging out of his 
 pocket. J I will have my handkerchief, though—come*what 
 may of it. 
 
 [ Whisks it, unfelt by Doctor, out of his pocket, and exit. 
 
 Dr. D. [ Aside.} To think of harbouring that viper in his 
 
 bosom—and to make me an accessorv. 
 
 •/ 
 
 Duke. [Aside.} Yes, yes, there’s no resisting it. 1 must 
 give the Doctor a hint—in all confidence—that will set 
 them both by the ears! It is the only way to recover my 
 lost Daphne. [Aloud.} Doctor ! Come hither, Doctor !— 
 My dear Doctor—do you know, if I were in your situa¬ 
 tion, I should feel rather uneasy. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.} He little dreams of his own. [Aloud.} 
 May I ask your Royal Highness, on what account % 
 
 Duke. You think yourself, probably, very secure in the 
 affections of a certain lady. 
 
 Dr. D. A certain lady ! [Asided Mercy on me ! has he 
 noticed my attentions to Ma’lle Duval 1 [Aloud.} Monseig¬ 
 neur, you surprise me—what lady ? 
 
 Duke. Oh, you act surprise remarkably well, Doctor ; 
 and I admit, that at your age, and with your grave demean¬ 
 our, persons would scarcely suspect that you were the slavo 
 of a pair of large dark eyes. 
 
 Dr. D. Large dark eyes ! [Aside.} He does mean Ma’lle 
 Duval. 
 
 Duke. But I am aware of your passion, Doctor, and 
 admit the lady’s fascinations are a sufficient excuse for it. 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur; I will not deny, as your Royal 
 Highness ha3 condescended to mention the subject, that 
 
40 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 I do greatly admire .the lady in q jestion, and that 1 have 
 reason to believe she is not displeased at my attentions. 
 
 Duke. Nor at those of others— 
 
 Dr. D. Of others ! Monseigneur, I have never remark¬ 
 ed—I have never observed— 
 
 Duke. Oh, my dear Doctor ! Let me tell you, as a mats 
 of the world— 
 
 AIR. —Duke. 
 
 Experience has clearly attested, 
 
 When matters take this sort of turn, 
 
 The person who’s most interested, 
 
 Is always the last one to learn— 
 
 ’Gainst others, while he espies treason. 
 
 And wonders their eyes are so dim, 
 
 What has been the town-talk of a season, 
 
 Like a thunder-clap bursts upon him ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] That’s excellent for him at the present 
 moment. [Aloud. j Monseigneur, I cannot doubt the gene¬ 
 ral truth of your Royal Highness’s remark, but I am con¬ 
 vinced, that in this particular instance— 
 
 Duke. My good sir. But mind—this is in perfect con¬ 
 fidence, and only to put you on your guard. Your nephew, 
 Monsieur Pierre Palliot, is a young man, too young a man 
 to trust near a pretty woman, when— 
 
 Dr. D. My nephew ! my nephew ! Good gracious, 
 Monseigneur;—you don’t mean to say— [Aside.] And he 
 puts him in my apartments himself. 
 
 Duke. I mean to say, that he has contrived to find favor 
 in the sight of your fair enchantress. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] The villain—the licentious villain ! 
 
 Duke. She visits him, man, at his lodgings in the Rue 
 de L’Echelle—sups with him there! 
 
 Dr. D. Pardon me, Monseigneur ; but that impossi¬ 
 ble. She could not return to the palace without being 
 observed. 
 
 Duke. [Aside. j To the Palace! Oh, oh! It is some 
 lady of rank, then, as the young rascal asserted ; and the 
 locket which I found as I entered the private door, must 
 belong to her ! Ay, now 1 have a clue ; but I must not 
 appear ignorant of who she really is. [Aloud,.] My good 
 sir, you seem to forget—but no matter; so let us change 
 the conversation. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 41 
 
 [At this moment, the small door , l., opens, and Ala’lie 
 Duval enters^but stops short, on perceiving the Duke 
 with the Doctor. 
 
 Tell me—as I know you are a man of taste—what think 
 you of this locket. 
 
 T Producing the one worn by the Duchess in the First 
 Act, and showing it to the Doctor. 
 
 Ala'He D. [Aside, j In his hands ! What’s to be done? 
 
 Dr. D. j Innocently .] It is a most elegant ornament, Mon- 
 seigneur. The Duchess did me the honour to show it me 
 
 O 
 
 yesterday. 
 
 Duke. The Duchess ! Show you this ? 
 
 Ma'lle D. Unfortunate— 
 
 [Strives to attract his attention, by making signs to him 
 with her handkerchief. 
 
 Dr. D. [Not perceiving hcr.\ Yes, Monseigneur; and 
 the portrait contained in it, which I have no doubt your 
 Royal Highness thinks very striking. In my humble opi¬ 
 nion, it is the best that has been taken of the Duchess, and 
 the ingenious manner in which it is displayed, by pressing 
 the little ruby on the rim— [The Duke presses it, and the 
 locket opens. J Very like—perfectly speaking. 
 
 [Looking over Duke's shoulder. 
 
 Ala'llc D. [Aside.] We are lost! 
 
 Duke. [ Furiously. J Dr. Druggendraft! 
 
 [As the Duke turns suddenly , Ala'lle Duval glides be¬ 
 hind a pedestal, dropping her handkerchief. 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur! 
 
 Duke. Will you repeat to me that this locket belonged 
 to the Duchess ? 
 
 Dr. D. Till she presented it to your Royal Highness this 
 morning. 
 
 Duke. ’Tis false ! 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur! 
 
 Duke. I say, thou best! 
 
 Dr. D. If your Royal Highness says so, of course 1 do ; 
 but the supposition was natural, as the Duchess told me 
 she meant it for a present, and of course I imagined it 
 must be for Mon seigneur. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] Fiends and furies ! Whilst I have been, 
 as I thought, amusing myself with a ridiculous adventure, 
 has the Duchess—Confusion! [ Aloud. ] Harkye, Doctor, 
 dost know where this locket was found ? 
 
42 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. [Act II 
 
 Dr. D. Found ! [Aside.] Oh, murder ! Should it he the 
 trinket that— * 
 
 Duke. Dost know where ? In the street—on the very 
 threshold of the private entrance to the Palace ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] I’ve made a dreadful blunder ! We are 
 all ruined now ! 
 
 Duke. Dost know at what hour ? Six in the morning ! 
 Dost know by whom? By me, Doctor—by me! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] I wish I was in Krim Tartary! 
 
 Duke. You have asserted that the Duchess showed this 
 locket to you, yesterday. Has it been out of her posses¬ 
 sion ? 
 
 Dr. D. I should say, decidedly. [ Aside.] As it is now in 
 his own. 
 
 Duke. Or was the Duchess absent from the Palace last 
 night, and the story of her indisposition trumped up to 
 deceive me ? Speak ! no hesitation. 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur, as I hope to live, I did not leave 
 her Royal Highness till past twelve o’clock ; and you 
 yourself heard her ring her bell this morning 1 . 
 
 Duke. That proves nothing; she might have gone out 
 after you had left her, and whilst you were amusing your¬ 
 self at the Masquerade, Doctor ! 
 
 Ala'lie D. [Aside. J Ha! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. ] At the Masquerade ! [Aloud. J Oh, 
 Monseigneur ! 
 
 Duke. You were recognized, sir—it is useless to deny 
 it—in company with two females ! Was that a respecta¬ 
 ble exhibition for the Physician to the Duchess de Char¬ 
 tres ? And if my wife was indisposed, how dared you 
 neglect your duty ? 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur, on my knees ! 
 
 Duke. Stand up, sir, and hear me. I will look over this 
 conduct, on one condition only:—that you reveal to me, 
 without reservation, any suspicions that you may entertain 
 respecting the Duchess. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. J Then he does not suspect, even now ! 
 What shall I say ? Ah ! it will be a good way to revenge 
 myself on that young villain ! [Aloud. ] If your Royal High¬ 
 ness insists— 
 
 Duke. Ah ! then you do know something? Speak ! is 
 there some intrigue on foot ? Some favoured lover? 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 43 
 
 Dr. D. Oh, no, Monseigneur; not an intrigue—no fa¬ 
 voured lover—no derogation, on the part of her RoyaJ 
 Highness—merely a—a— 
 
 Duke. Merely a what, sir! Speak ! speak ! 
 
 Dr. D. Merely a young coxcomb, who— 
 
 Duke. Ah ! 
 
 Dr. D. Who, presuming on an accident of the most tri¬ 
 vial description, imagines himself distinguished by her 
 Royal Highness. 
 
 Duke. You know him ! 
 
 Dr. D. I think I. could find out. 
 
 Duke. He shall to the Bastile, whoever he is ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. J Excellent—the very thing ! [ Aloud .] If 
 your Royal Highness will give me the order, I pledge my¬ 
 self it shall be executed faithfully. 
 
 Duke. You shall have it instantly. And this locket ! 
 You know not how it was lost—nor if the Duchess left the 
 Palace last night 1 
 
 Dr. D. I am profoundly ignorant of all that passed af¬ 
 ter I parted with her Royal Highness. [Aside.] That’s the 
 fact! 
 
 Duke. Enough! If I detect you in a falsehood, trem¬ 
 ble ! I go for the “ Lettre de cachet,” and hold you re¬ 
 sponsible for the discovery and incarceration of the offen 
 der. Take notice !—To the Bastile—either he or thou ! 
 
 DUO.— Duke. —(“ Les fillettcs de St. Cloud.”) 
 
 He or thou ! he or thou ! 
 
 One shall rue the day, I vow ! 
 
 So take warning, Doctor, now ! 
 
 He or thou! he or thou! 
 
 Dr Druggendraft. 
 
 He or me ! he or me! 
 
 To decide, then, I am free! 
 
 There’s no doubt which it will be, 
 
 Since the choice is left to me! 
 
 [Exit Duke. Ma'lie Duval, who has keen watching fen 
 her opportunity , passes quickly into the Duchess's 
 apartment , it., unperceived by the Doctor, and leaving 
 her handkerchief unnoticed where it fell. 
 
 Dr. D. No, no, your fate is sealed, Master Pierre Pal- 
 liot. I warned you what would happen; and after the 
 
44 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 story the Duke has told me about you and Ma’lle Duval! 
 whether true or not, it will be the safest plan for ail par¬ 
 ties—it’s a master-stroke of policy—I shall be revenged 
 upon my nephew, without committing the Duchess ; and 
 as to her injunctions about him, she is too much in my 
 power to resent such a breach of them. Besides, it is the 
 Duke’s doing, not mine, and she will not venture to tax 
 him on the subject. And I have here also, in my pocket, 
 a little piece of evidence— [Puts his hand into his pocket, 
 and, misses his handkerchief, !] Eh, why, where—what did I 
 do with the handkerchief ? I certainly put it in my pock¬ 
 et—I must have—ha! [Seeing Ma’lle D.’s.] There it is! 
 My stars, if the Duke had seen it! 
 
 [Picks it up, and thi'usts it into his hosom hastily. 
 
 Enter Pierre, c. 
 
 Pie. Ah, my dear uncle, I could wait no longer—I am 
 dying to express to you my gratitude, my delight. I have 
 been so served—so feasted—such attentions—such a break¬ 
 fast— 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] 1 must lose no time. [Aloud.] I was just 
 coming to you. Go and get a coach. 
 
 Pie. A coach ! 
 
 Dr. D. Yes, a hackney coach, directly. 
 
 Pic. It seems decreed, that everybody should send me 
 for a coach ! What for ? 
 
 Dr. D. You must leave the Palace as soon as possible. 
 
 Pie. Leave the Palace—why, I thought— 
 
 Dr. D. No words, you are a ruined man ! 
 
 Pie. Ruined ? 
 
 Dr. D. You or I, one or the other—the Duke has said 
 
 so. 
 
 Pie. Ah, really!—Is there a choice? Oh, then, my 
 dear uncle, as you never did anything before for me, here’s 
 the time to show your affection ! Now here is really an 
 opportunity— 
 
 Dr. D. Silence—I am about to send you where you will 
 be taken care of, and where it will take some little trouble 
 to get at you ! 
 
 Pie. Indeed! Well, that is kind of you, too; and if 
 you can’t do anything more— 
 
 Dr.D. Silence! Here, Antoine! [To a Servant pas* 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A r^iGm. 
 
 45 
 
 sing.] Take this young man—[ Aside to Ser.] Tell Duroc 
 to put him in a coach, and drive to the Bastile with him, 
 by the Duke’s order, as fast as possible. The “ Lettre 
 da cachet” shall be sent after him—we needn’t wait for 
 that. 
 
 Pie. Oh, my dear uncle, if I can ever return the obli¬ 
 gation ! 
 
 Dr. D. Don’t mention it—follow that person directly. 
 
 Pie. I must embrace you— 
 
 Dr. j D. No, no, there’s not an instant to be lost! Go, go! 
 
 [ Trying to push him out. 
 
 Enter Duchess and Ma’lle Duval, r. 
 
 Duch. “ Go, go !” Where is he going to % 
 
 Dr. D. The Duchess ! 
 
 Pic. (l.c.) The Duchess ! [Aside.] It was the Duchess, 
 then ! 
 
 Duch. I asked you, Doctor, whither yuu were sending 
 that young gentleman ] 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside to her. J Madam, I assure you, it was 
 much against my will, but his Royal Highness has per¬ 
 emptorily ordered me— 
 
 Duch. Silence, sir. [Aside to Ma’He Duval.] We were 
 just in time, it seems. [Aloud to Pierre .] Are you not 
 Monsieur Pierre Palliot, the nephew of Doctor Druggen- 
 draft ] 
 
 Pie. Yes, madam, and who had the honour to— 
 
 Duch. I am aware of the service you have rendered to 
 one for whom I have a great regard, and you shall not go 
 unrewarded. Ma’lle Duval, conduct your young friend 
 into the Crimson Saloon, and return as I directed you. 
 
 Dr. D. Pie. [Aside.} Her young friend ! 
 
 Ma’lle D. [To Pierre.] Will you follow me, sir 1 
 
 Pie. With the greatest pleasure, mademoiselle. [Aside.] 
 Her young friend ! I’m that lovely creature’s young friend, 
 and didn’t know it! And my uncle to say I was ruined ! 
 Pooh, pooh ! Ruined! [Aloud..] Mademoiselle, permit 
 me— [Taking her hand.] Madam, [To the Duchess,] youi 
 Royal Highness’s most devoted servant! Uncle, ahem ! 
 
 AIR.—(“ TJn beau jour en promenantA) 
 
 Pierre. [ Aside to Doctor .] 
 
 I have neither wit nor grace 
 At court to make my way, sir; 
 
46 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [ Act II 
 
 I had better book my place, 
 
 And go back to Beauvais, sir. 
 
 So at least you said last night, 
 
 And have thought it, too, you might- - 
 What d’ye think to-day, sir ? 
 
 What d’ye think to-day 1 
 
 [Exit with ME lie Duval , r. c. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] Impertinent puppy ! Before my face ! 
 Her young friend, too ! Then the Duke was right, and 
 the Duchess knows it; and actually sanctions—I’m bewil¬ 
 dered ! 
 
 Duck, (l.) What is the matter, Doctor ?—you look agi¬ 
 tated. 
 
 Dr. D. Agitated ! No wonder, madam ! And you will 
 be agitated, too, when I tell you that the Duke has found 
 a locket, which— 
 
 Duck. I know it. 
 
 Dr. D. You know it? [Aside.] She says she knows it, 
 as coolly as if— [Aloud. j Madam, do you know also that 
 the Duke is in the most fearful state of exasperation—that 
 he suspects—that he has interrogated me —and that from 
 one moment to the other, I stand in danger of falling a 
 sacrifice to my devotion to your Royal Highness. 
 
 Duck. I am aware, Doctor, of the exact point to which 
 your devotion is capable of extending j and that it has 
 been drawn out to the utmost limits on the present occa¬ 
 sion, by the uncertainty which you are in, as to which 
 course will most affect your own interest. I grant that 
 your position is an awkward one, and as I am conscious 
 that I have been partly the cause of placing you in it, I 
 am willing to overlook your conduct respecting your ne¬ 
 phew and myself, on condition that you give him ten 
 thousand livres towards settling him in Paris, as he de¬ 
 sires. 
 
 Dr. D. Ten thousand livres! I give him— [Aloud 1 ]—• 
 Madam, are you aware that the Duke knows I was at the 
 Masquerade, with two ladies, and that he may compel mo 
 to inform him who was the one in the pink domino ? 
 
 Duck. You are at liberty to do so, Doctor. 
 
 Dr. D. I am at liberty— [Aside.] I’m paralyzed ! 
 
 Duck. I intend telling him myself—but as you appeal 
 to insinuate a threat, let me caution you, in return, not to 
 hesitate an instant as to the ten thousand livres or you ma> 
 
Scene I.] V THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 47 
 
 find that the Duchess de Chartres can procure “Lettres de 
 Cachets” as well as the Duke. Apropos, I have one in 
 my pocket, which— 
 
 Dr. D. Madam, I— 
 
 Duck. I am sure you will see the propriety of acting as 
 I advise you. Here comes the Duke—will you tell him 
 of the pink domino, or shall I 1 
 
 Dr. D. I am too happy to leave the matter entirely in 
 the hands of your Royal Highness. 
 
 Enter Duke, with “ Lettre de Cachet ” k. c. 
 
 Duke. Here is the order. [Aside.} Ha ! the Duchess ! 
 [To Doctor, icho is going.] Stay where you are. 
 
 Duck. My dear Philip, 1 wondered what had become of 
 you ! 
 
 Duke. Madam, I was at this moment on the point of 
 seeking you. 
 
 Duck. I began to fear that your hasty journey from 
 Compeigne had fatigued you more than you were willing 
 to admit, and that you might perhaps pay too dearly for 
 an act of gallantry towards me, of which, I assure you I 
 am deeply sensible. 
 
 Duke. [Aside. | The traitress! and at the same time— 
 [Aloud. J Madam, it is with much regret that I am com¬ 
 pelled to doubt the sincerity of that acknowledgment! 
 
 Duck. Oh, surely you would not do me so much injus¬ 
 tice ! what, not appreciate such a proof of your affection as 
 riding all night—for you must have done so, mustn’t you, 
 to reach Paris by five or six in the morning, from Com¬ 
 peigne ] Apropos of Compeigne—does the King intend 
 visiting the camp shortly ] 
 
 Duke. [Aside. ] Her coolness petrifies me ! [Aloud.] I 
 know not whether this indifference is real or affected, but 
 there is a circumstance to which I must call your serious 
 attention; and which, as it affects the honour of my name 
 and your own reputation, I must insist upon having a full 
 and satisfactory explanation of— 
 
 Duch. Oh, lud ! I vow, you quite frighten me ! What 
 is it, in the name of all that’s terrible ? 
 
 Duke. Madam ! cease this ill-becoming levity. Behold 
 this locket, madam ! [Producing it. | The sight of it should 
 turn you into stone ! 
 
48 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Duck. Well, that is the rudest thing I ever heard in my 
 life, considering that it contains my own portrait! Do you 
 mean to say I am a downright Gorgon—a. Medusa ]—Oh, 
 fie, Monseigneur! Is this the gallant Duke de Chartres ! 
 
 Duke. Impudence unparalleled! You recognize it— 
 you acknowledge your acquaintance with it, and do not 
 sink to the earth at beholding it in my hands ! 
 
 Duck. Sink to the earth ! Why, my dear Duke, what 
 should have such an extraordinary effect upon me—unless, 
 indeed—Oh, good gracious! you don’t mean to say she 
 gave it to you ] 
 
 Duke. She ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] She! 
 
 Duck. You wouldn’t surely display to me a proof of her 
 shame and your perfidy ! Oh, no—no, Monseigneur, I 
 will not wrong either Ma’lle Duval or yourself by the 
 thought, for one moment! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. | Ma’lle Duval ! 
 
 Duke. Ma’lle Duval! What folly is this] Madam, I 
 found this locket, which contains your portrait, and which 
 was yesterday your property—I found it this morning in 
 the street, at the threshold of the private entrance to the 
 Palace, of which only you and 1 have a key. 
 
 Duck. Bless me !—Did you, indeed ] 
 
 Duke. I did, madam ! and I demand to know by what 
 possible accident it could be there ] 
 
 Duck. Nay—you must ask Ma’lle Duval— 
 
 Duke Sf Dr. D. Ma’lle Duval again ! 
 
 [In this and all the. subsequent echoes, the Doctor's is al¬ 
 ways aside. 
 
 Duck. Certainly: for either she dropped it there herself, 
 or somebody must have stolen it from her ; at any rate, it 
 was lucky you found it, for I am sure the loss of her locket 
 would have greatly distressed her. 
 
 Duke fy Dr. D. Of her locket! 
 
 Duck. Yes—her locket—my gift—which she received 
 with so much delight and gratitude only last evening. 
 
 Duke , Your gift—last evening, to Ma’lle Duval ] 
 
 Duck. What’s the matter with the man] Is there any¬ 
 thing so very extraordinary in my having made her such 
 a present 1—are not such things done every day ]—didn’t 
 you give a snuff-box with your portrait in it to your Secre- 
 
THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT 
 
 Scene I.] 
 
 49 
 
 tary—and didn’t the King—and your father the Duke of 
 Orleans— 
 
 Duke. Madam—madam !—of course, I know— \Asidet] 
 Confusion ! have I made a fool of myself by my suspi¬ 
 cions, or is this some subterfuge ? [Aloud. J Where is Ma’lle 
 Duval ? 
 
 Duck. In the Ciimson Saloon. 
 
 Duke. I must see her—instantly— 
 
 Duck. I fear you will interrupt a tender interview. 
 
 Duke Dr. D. A tender interview ! 
 
 Duck. There is a young gentleman—a nephew of Dr. 
 Druggendraft—who has been deeply smitten by her. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside. J The serpent—the cockatrice ! 
 
 Duke. The young man who was here just now? 
 
 Duck. No doubt—he ivas here just now—do you know 
 him ? 
 
 Duke. Know him % —I—I saw him here. [Aside. J The 
 devil’s in the fellow !—is this another, or— 
 
 Duck. Ah ! now I remember—he told me you had seen 
 him, and promised him your protection ! How very kind 
 of you—wasn’t it, Doctor ? 
 
 Dr. D. Too kind ! a great deal too kind ! 
 
 Duke. [Aside. j What does all this mean ! [Aloud to 
 Doctor .] Now—before the Duchess—without equivocation, 
 declare your reasons for presuming that some one had 
 dared to entertain certain views with regard to Her Royal 
 Highness! 
 
 Duck. What!—Did the Doctor insinuate-oh, Doc¬ 
 
 tor, Doctor! I’m ashamed of you! 
 
 Dr. D. Madam, I assure you, I never for one moment 
 imagined—it was only—as 1 told the Duke—the presump¬ 
 tion of a young madman, who, because your Royal High¬ 
 ness happened to drop your handkerchief from your car¬ 
 riage window at the moment he was passing— 
 
 Duke. How ! her handkerchief! 
 
 Duck. [Aside.\ Is it possible !—Unfortunate !—I did 
 lose a handkerchief—he will never believe it was by ac¬ 
 cident— 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] She is confused ! [ To Doctor .] Has he 
 the handkerchief in his possession ? 
 
 Dr. D. No, Monseigneur. 
 
 Duke ty Duck. [ With different expression.] Ha! 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 Dr. D. It is in mine—I took it from him, that he might 
 not compromise her Royal Highness by any vain display 
 of it. 
 
 Duch. [ Aside .] No hope ! 
 
 Duke. You took it from him—then you do know who 
 
 he is ] 
 
 Dr. D. I regret to acknowledge—he is my nephew 
 Pierre Palliot. 
 
 Duke Duck. Your nephew ! 
 
 Dr. D. \ Aside.] I have him now ! 
 
 Duke, f Aside.] Confound the rascal! is he making love 
 to the whole Court! [Aloud to Doctor.] Produce the hand¬ 
 kerchief! 
 
 Dr. D. It is here. [Draioing the handkerchief from hu 
 bosom , and giving it to Duke. 
 
 Duke. Now, madam ! perhaps you will tell me it was 
 by accident this kerchief fell from your coach window ] 
 
 Duck. [Aside, having examined it.] Oh, Fortune ! [Aloud 
 and coolly .] How should I know !—this handkerchief be¬ 
 longs co Ma’lle Duval. 
 
 Duke Dr. j D. Ma’lle Duval! 
 
 Duch. At least, those are her initials. 
 
 [Handing it back to Duke. 
 
 Duke. Why, Doctor! 
 
 Dr. D. Monseigneur] [Aside. ] It’s witchcraft! I could 
 take my oath I saw her own cypher and crest! 
 
 Duke. Dr. Druggendraft—did your nephew assert that 
 this kerchief was flung to him by the Duchess ]—Remem¬ 
 ber ! he is here, and can be confronted with you. 
 
 Dr. D. No, Monseigneur! I acknowledge that it was 
 only my suspicion, in consequence of—because I— [Aside.] 
 Oh, dear! oh, dear! he wouldn’t believe me, if I swore 
 it! 
 
 Duke. And you have dared— 
 
 Duch. Hold, hold, Monseigneur—I must intercede for 
 the Doctor, whose head is not quite clear, perhaps, from 
 fear of your displeasure on another and more serious 
 charge—but one for which I am alone accountable— 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] Eh !—she won’t tell him, surely ! 
 
 Duke. What other ]—speak, Madam, speak ! 
 
 Duch. My dear Philip, I was guilty last night of a very 
 great piece of imprudence, for which I have been so se- 
 

 Scene I.J v ' THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 51 
 
 verely punished, that I do not think you will add to my 
 self-reproaches any of your own. 
 
 Duke. Last night! 
 
 Dr.D. \Aside.] She will tell aim ! 
 
 Duck. Yes: I was impelled by an unconquerable, but 
 foolish curiosity, to take a peep at the Masquerade. 
 
 Duke. The Masquerade ! 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] She has told him ! 
 
 Duck. Knowing that I could pass from my own apart¬ 
 ments through a corridor to that part of the Palace in 
 which the Theatre is situated, I ordered Ma’lle Duval to 
 procure for me a pink domino. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] A pink domino ! 
 
 . v Duck. And for herself a blue one— and, despite of all 
 
 remonstrances, compelled the Doctor to accompany us to 
 the Ball. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] My head spins round! 
 
 Duck. We had scarcely arrived, however, when a rude, 
 > impertinent fellow, who was probably intoxicated, created 
 a confusion, during which he succeeded in separating us 
 ) from our learned protector there, when Ma’lle Duval, be¬ 
 
 lieving that I was the object of attack, rapidly exchanged 
 dominos with me, and, suffering herself to be pursued, 
 gave me an opportunity of regaining my own apartments 
 discovered and unmolested! 
 
 Duke. Exchanged dominos! 
 
 Dr. D. Then what became of Ma’lle Duval 
 
 Duck. By a most fortunate accident, she found a pro¬ 
 tector in the person of your nephew, Doctor, who carried 
 ner in a fainting state to her own lodgings. 
 
 Dr. D. To his own lodgings ! Ma’lle Duval ! 
 
 A Duke. [Aside.] The devil!—but it might have been 
 
 worse. If the Duchess— 
 
 Duck. And, as soon as she was sufficiently recovered 
 procured a coach for her to return in. 
 
 Duke. [Aside] A coach—she hasn’t said a word abou'. 
 the supper. 
 
 Dr. D. Returned in a coach !—How did she get in I-— 
 I’ve been watching all night. 
 
 Duck. By the private door—with my key—which you 
 » know I tiiok with me for fear of accidents. 
 
 Dr. D. [Aside.] I don’t believe a word of it! 
 
 i 
 
52 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act U. 
 
 Duck . Do you forgive my imprudence, Philip 1 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] I ought to say something very mo:al, 
 and rather severe. [Aloud.] Madam—the candour of your 
 confession could alone moderate the just and terrible in¬ 
 dignation with which J should otherwise have received the 
 tidings. But for the generous devotion of Ma’lle Duval— 
 a devotion which I scarcely know how to recompense— 
 your reputation might have been tarnished, and my name 
 made a bye-word in the Court of Versailles. 
 
 Duck. They might—they might—I am overpowered by 
 the thought! To have risked my fame—and that of the 
 most faithful and devoted of husbands!—a husband—who 
 at that very moment was enduring fatigue—and braving 
 the perils of darkness—in order to press me to his bosom, 
 a few hours sooner. 
 
 Duke. Enough—enough—-I forgive you—I forgive you. 
 [Aside.] I must see Ma’lle Duval instantly, and purchase 
 her silence at any price— 
 
 Duck. You forgive me 1 Oh, rapture!—too generous 
 man—your anger I might have supported, but this kind¬ 
 ness quite overwhelms me ! It is more than I can bear— 
 Doctor, I feel very unwell—call Ma’lle Duval. 
 
 Duke, f—I’ll go for her. 
 
 Duck. [Catching hold of hi?n.\ No, no, don’t leave me, 
 Philip—I shall t faint—Ma’lle Duval. 
 
 Dr. D. Ma’lle Duval!—Ma’lle Duval! 
 
 Enter Ma’lle Duval, c. 
 
 Duck. Oh, Louise—I have told the Duke all my folly, 
 and your devotion—he is all goodness to me, and gratitude 
 to you. He has found your locket, too—give it her back, 
 Monseigneur—and here, Louise, in addition, take this ring. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] My ring ! Confusion ! 
 
 Duck. ’Tis a pretty bauble, is it not, Philip 1 It was 
 given me by a poor gentleman of Normandy, whose father 
 had ruined himself in the king’s service, and then received 
 from the royal munificence, a pension upon which it was 
 impossible to exist. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] Ah, I begin to see through all this !— 
 but I am in the toils, and must submit 
 
 Duch. He died, poor man—and his son came to Paris to 
 
THE FOLLIES OF A NIG1IT. 
 
 Scene I.] 
 
 53 
 
 urge the claims of his family—he is promised a regiment, 
 and if you would kindly i*?e your influence for him— 
 Duke. [Aside.] Madam, madam !—I see you know all! 
 I am at your mercy. 
 
 Duck. [Aside to him.] Pardon for pardon, my dear Phi 
 iip —there is something to forgive on both sides. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] It was you whom I supped with in the 
 Rue de L’Echelle. 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] But the Doctor had better believe it was 
 Ma’lle Duval. 
 
 Duke. And Monsieur Pierre Palliot— 
 
 Duch. I never saw till last night—when he really ren¬ 
 dered me a service which should not pass unrewarded. 
 Listen to what I propose. [They talk aside, r. 
 
 Dr. D. Ma’lle Duval ?—May I believe my ears ?—Were 
 you at the Rue de L’Echelle last night, with my rascally 
 nephew 1 
 
 Ma’lle D. Hush, Doctor—if it should get wind—what 
 would the Court say 1 
 
 Dr. D. The Court! It is I, Ma’lle Duval, who am most 
 interested in this matter—I, whose ardent passion— 
 
 Duke. [To Duchess.] By all means—provided Ma’lle 
 Duval— 
 
 Duch. I have spoken to her—she has no objection. 
 Duke. Then it lias my sanction. Ma’lle Duval, the Du 
 chess has informed me of the pretensions of Monsieur 
 Pierre Palliot. 
 
 Dr. D. But, may it please your Royal Highness—it is 
 T who pretend to the hand of Ma’lle Duval—my attach¬ 
 ment, as I had the honour to inform your Highness— 
 Duke. Yours!—was Ma’lle Duval the lady, then, to 
 whom you alluded 1 
 
 Dr. D. Undoubtedly, Monseigneur. 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] Bravissimo !—I shall punish the Doctor, 
 at all events. [Aloud.] How is this, Ma’lle Duval 1 do you 
 return the Doctor’s affection 1 
 
 Ma’lle D. Certainly not, Monseigneur— 
 
 Duke. And you have no objection to the nephew ! 
 Ma’lle D. I have promised Her Royal Highness— 
 Duke. My dear Doctor, I’m sorry for you—but the lady 
 is engaged, you see--Monsieur Pierre Palliot!—where is 
 Monsieur Pierre Palliot. 
 
54 
 
 THE FOLLIES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 Enter Pierre, r. c. 
 
 Pie. At your Royal Highness’ service. 
 
 Duke. Young man—you have presumed to entertain a 
 passion for a lady attached to the household of the Duchess 
 de Chartres, without the knowledge and permission of her 
 Royal Highness. 
 
 Pie. I! 
 
 Duke. [Aside^\ Silence, or the Bastile! [. Aloud .] Fortu¬ 
 nately for you, your passion is returned. 
 
 Pie. It is! 
 
 Duke. And the services rendered by Ma’lle Duval to the 
 Duchess, induce us not only to look over your imprudence, 
 but to consent to your union. Take your wife, sir. 
 
 Pie. My wife !—oh ! with all my heart. 
 
 Dr. D. But, Mon seigneur— 
 
 Duke. Silence !—or the Bastile— 
 
 Duck. And, in addition to the ten thousand livres which 
 the Doctor has promised me to give his nephew— 
 
 Pie. Oh, my dear uncle ! 
 
 Dr. D. But, madam, really— 
 
 Duck. Obedience, or the Bastile ! \Aloud. ] In addition 
 to those ten thousand livres, I shall give the bride twenty 
 thousand from my own purse, as an acknowledgment of 
 her services. 
 
 Duke. And I the same sum to the bridegroom, as a to¬ 
 ken of my approbation! [Aside to him.] And the price of 
 his discretion. 
 
 Pie. Oh, Monseigneur! oh, Mademoiselle! oh, uncle l 
 A beautiful wife and fifty thousand livres! I shall go era 
 zy with joy! 
 
 Dr. D. And I with vexation! 
 
 AIR.— Duchess. — From (( Le Philtre .” 
 
 Ye, who so oft have deigned to cheer 
 This poor heart, with fear when sinking, 
 
 That you would still support me here, 
 
 Say, have I been too bold in thinking? 
 
 Let it not your bosoms harden. 
 
 Should mine not have judged aright 
 But to the Follies of To-Night, 
 
 Add the error with your pardon, 
 
 And kindly put all cares to flight. 
 
 THE J?NT>. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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