i|-7f POST FKEE "I £?/! i # [in Great Britain onlyj DU* qb 15 CENTS. FRENCH’S 'ACTING EDITION §» (Late LACY’S). HEARTS OF~"OAK I Permission to Plav this Piece must be obtained from SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.. 89, Strand, London. London : SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., PUBLISHERS, 89, STRAND. BELFAST- J. Nicholson, 16, Church Lane. BIRMINGHAM— W. H. Smith & Son, 34, Union St. BRADFORD- Bilbrough & Kitchingman, 5, Dale Street. BRISTOL— E. Toleman, 2, Rupert Street, DUBLIN— Morrow’s Library, 12,Nassau St. EDINBURGH— H. Robinson, lli-Ufi, Leith St. GLASGOW- Wm. Love, 221, Argyle Street- LEEDS- R. Jackson, 18, Commercial St. LIVERPOOL— J. Burkinshaw, 28-30, Colquitt Street. MANCHESTER- John Heywood, Deansgat© and Ridgefield NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE- Thomas Allan, 34, Collingwood Street. PLYMOUTH- Burnell and Hockey, New York T. HENRY FRENCH, PUBLISHER, 26, WEST 22nd STREET/ SHEFFIELD— Geo. Slater, 54, Snighill. BOMBAY— Soundy & Co. Thacker & Co CALCUTTA- Thacker, Spink & Co. MADRAS— Higginbotham & Co., 165. Mount Road. SIMLA- Simla Fancy Repository. CANADA- R. B. Butland, Toronto. CAPE OF GOOD HOPE- J. C. Juta, Cape Town. MELBOURNE— Edgar Davis, 255, Bourke Street, E. ADELAIDE- E. S. Wigg & Son. Cawthorne drawn, which can be repeated and cut in any shape that is required. s * z ®’ ^eet b> 20 inches, Is. per sheet; large siz e, 40 inches by 30 inches- Is. ®d. per sheet. J This is to Dt used with the foliage sheets and placed at the bottom of the scene.— Price and size same as foliage THi-Kj A’WOffCt JE5»00!M-- ?llis scene is only kept in the large size, the back sce«.is 13 feet Jong «nd • t~t h fn th/centaefa ^French tne large size, me uttuis. sucwc ictt **.—, “.r;—v 5 Q TiVpnrb Wings and Borders to 20 feet long and 11 J feet high. In Jthe centre ath window, leading down to the ground, which could be mad ® j P^ticable ^re^ —a fViz> io q with mirror al _, leading down to the ground, wmcu cuuiu ue quired. On the left wing is a fireplace with mirror above, ^d on the^ht is an on painting. The whole scene tastefully ornamented^ aI1 d .ea^ coloured,^'orming a^inost"ele Jint V picture.” i Should a box “gte Wings can be had, consisting of doors each side, which ^ oul d_be rnade pract Jwe. a n«.4/>yv wi+Vi X? rvvrl onH ohf W1 T1 Cf9t . T1 Wings can be had, consisting of doors each side, wnicn cornu I"« h d?r«^ngt^ extra Wings, as before described, and forming doors on ■each sid- — «* an( j Border anS one set of Wings, mounted, 84s ; immount^ 40s ; with Border and two sets of Wings, to form box scene, mounted, 105s., unmounted, 50s. Til© above can b© seen mounted at 89, Strand, London, directions accompany each Scene. Full HEARTS OF OAK: A DOMESTIC DRAMA, IN TWO ACTS, BY HENRY A. JONES. How many a father have I seen. A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise, Who wears his manhood hale and green: And dare we to this fancy give, That had the wild oat not been sown, The soil, left barren, scarce had grown The grain by which a man may live ? TlWSON, “In Memoriam.* London: SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., Publishers, 89, STRAND. New York: T. HENRY FRENCH, Publisher, l 26, WEST 22nd STREET. 8 HEARTS OF OAF. First acted at the Theatre Royal, Exeter, under the manage* ment of Mr. F. Neebe, May 29th, 1879, Grandfather Pretty john. Mr. Neebe. Jehu Pretty john (his son, a farmer) Mr. Harrington Baily. Benjamin Pretty john (soil to Jehu, a lout) Mr. Joseph Burgess. Ned Devenish ... *. Mr. G. W. Harris. Mr. Cornelius (a suitor to Kitty Pretty john ) Mr. Duncan Campbell. Mrs. Susan Prettyjohn (wife to Jehu) Miss Margaret Soulby. Kitty Prettyjohn (their daughter) Miss Agnes Birchenough. Recruiting Sergeant, Christmas Carol Singers. I ! $£• ii HEARTS OP OAIC. ACT I. An Evening in Autumn, 1874. Scene.— The living-room at Jehu Prettyjohn’s, a sort of half-kitchen, half-parlour, in a farmhouse; doors R. and L. , and at back; fireplace, dresser, plates, dec. Grandfather Prettyjohn discovered seated over fireplace, smoking pipe . Enter door, R., Mrs. Prettyjohn, followed by Jehu. Mrs. P. Never, Jehu ! Never, while my name’s Susan Prettyjohn, will I stand by and see our Kitty married to that good-for-nothing Ned Devenish ; and so I tell you, once for all—and if you won’t speak to him, and break off the engagement, I will, and this very night, too ! (seats herself in chair by table) Grandfather, (aside) Hillo ! She’s down upon poor Ned again. The young rascal! What’s he been up to this time 1 ? (turns his chair , listens eagerly to conversation) Jehu, (mildly deprecatingly) Well, but, my dear, don’t let us be in a hurry. Let’s think it over. Poor Ned! He a been unfortunate lately. Mrs. P. Unfortunate ! Unsteady, you mean ! To think of all that nice property his uncle left him, the Grange, and the land, and nearly a thousand pounds in money besides ; and now he’s been and gambled and squandered it all away, and in a very little while he won’t have a penny to bless himself with! . Jehu. Don’t be too hard upon him. Poor Kitty ! they ve been engaged all these years, ever since they were children, as you may say, and it ’ud break her heart to be told she must give him up. Give him another chance. Mrs. P. Another chance ! That’s what you said last time. No, I’ve quite made up my mind, and one word’s a3 good as a thousand. That engagement shall be broken oft this very i night before I go to bed. Jehu. Well, but perhaps it ain’t so bad as we think. There’s no doubt old Devenish hid a lot of money somewhere i about the house, if it could only be found. Why, he was 1 Vy 39563 \ \ Si V\ vv\y\S'V-ec.Vxev'^- r2- HEARTS OF OAK, worth thousands and thousands, by all accounts ! And they could never find anything more than the few paltry hundreds in his bureau ! You know that letter the old fellow gave me last Christmas Eve, on his deathbed ? Mrs. P. Well? Jehu. He says to me when he was dying, “Jehu,” he says, 4 4 1 can’t trust these lawyer chaps, but I can trust you. Yen take this letter, and keep it for five years, and then give it to Ned ; but mind you, don’t let him have it till the five years are up.” Mrs. P. Well? Jehu. You may depend that letter says where old Devenish’s money is hid ; and Ned ’ll be a rich man when he opens that letter on Christmas Eve come four years. Mrs. P. But the fool has been and sold the Grange, and everything in it, to Mr. Cornelius, and if old Devenish’s hoard should be found now, of course it would belong to Mr. Cornelius, as he’s bought the property. Ned has sold all his rights in the place. Jehu. Well, I don’t know how the law ’ud stand upon that point ; there never is any telling how the law stands upon ticklish points like that—it’s a sort of “heads the lawyers win, tails you lose ”—but it seems to me that if Mr. Cornelius was to find out old Devenish’s hidden money, it ’ud belong to Ned, as he was left residuary legatee. That’s my opinion, looking at it as a straightforward man in a straightforward way. Mrs. P. Ah ! but that ain’t the way the law looks at things. Possession’s nine points of the law, and you may depend upon it the law ’ud say to Mr. Cornelius, “You’ve found the money, and you may keep it.” And quite right, too—for if Ned had any more money left him he’d only fling it in the gutter after the other. And Mr. Cornelius is a rich man, and has got lots of houses and property besides the Grange, and I am sure he’s very fond of Kitty, and I believe if he could only get an opportuuity, and pluck up his courage, he’d pop the question. Oh, I’ve watched him, and I’m sure he’s dying with love for our Kitty ! Grandfather. Like his cheek ! Let me catch him making love to Kitty, (aside.) Mrs. P. And I’m sure he’s a far better match than Ned Devenish ! Grandfather. You don’t know nothing about it—you two. Ned’s all right—he’s all right, I tell you—you let him be for a year or two, d’ye hear ? He’s a bit wild, and all that, but there ain’t no harm in him. He’s got too much nature in him, that’s all, and he’ll get all that took out of Hearts of oak. S him. You let let him be—it’s too much nature, that’s what it is. Why, damme, 1 was just like him at his age ; he ! he ! he ! the young rascal ; hunting, racing, betting, drinking, fighting, steeplechpsing, any mortal spree under the sun ; larking about all night and as fresh as a daisy in the morn¬ ing. Why, my old father used to lock up all his horses in the stable, for fear I should take ’em out and ride ’em to death. He ! he ! he ! And look at me now ! Mrs. P. I wonder you ain’t ashamed of yourself, at your time of life ! Grandfather. Ashamed of ntyself ! What have I got to be ashamed of? Ned’s just like I was at his time of life. It’s too much nature, that’s what it is. He’ll get it took out of him—you let him be, d’ye hear ? The young rascal ! He ! he ! he ! Enter from door R. , Benjy Prettyjohn, a lout of eighteen. Benjy. ( out of breath) Oh, mother ! I say, what do you think ? Such goings on I There’s Ned Devenish—— s. p ' j™" Benjy. ( breathless ivith laughter ) There’s Ned Devenish has been and made old Robins as drunk as forty owls, at the Red Lion, Ha ! ha ! ha ! Mrs. P. and \ 9 Jehu. } Yes? Grandfather. The young rascal! He ! he ! he ! Benjy. And Ned got Mother Pipkin’s old blue bonnet and red shawl and fastened ’em on old Robins, and took him out to the stableyard, and put him on his pony behind- before, with his face towards the pony’s tail; and then Ned got a man to hold him on, and led him up the High-street, and all the people looking out of the windows, and the boys running behind and shouting like mad ; and Old Robins singing Rule Britannia ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Mrs. P. A pretty state of things, I must say. (to Jehu) That’s your future son-in-law S Jehu. Poor Kitty! Grandfather. The young dog ! He ! he ! he ! He’s a chip of the old block ! Benjy. Yes, and I say, what do you think ? The night before last Ned goes to the police-station, and get3 larking about with two bobbies. He sends one of ’em to get some drink, and while he was gone he asks the other bobby to show him the cells, and as soon as he opens the door Ned shoves him inside and locks him in, and when the other bobby comes back Ned asks him to show him the cells on 6 HEARTS OF OAK. the other side, and as soon as the bobby gets the door open, in Ned shoves him, too, and locks him in, and so it’s all about the town how Ned Devenish locked up the bobbies in the police-station all night! Grandfather. The young dog ! He ! he ! he ! Mrs. P. Well, Jehu Prettyjohn, what do you say now to Ned Devenish as a husband for your daughter ? (Enter Kitty, door l.) Here she is ; now will you speak to her and tell her she must break-off the engagement, or shall I ? Kitty, (aside) Break off the engagement! Oh what has Ned been doing ? Daring this convers ition, B enjy and Grandfather are talking over Ned’s doings , at ill ? fireplace , Benjy giving a glowing description — Grandfather delighted. Jehu. I’ll speak to her myself, (aside) Poor Kitty, it’ll break her heart, (to Kitty) Come here, my girl. I want to have a little bit of a talk with you. There now ! sit down here ! (they sit , Mrs. Prettyjohn standing over them) Jehu, (taking Kitty’s hand tenderly) You know, my girl, you mustn’t think it unkind, what I am going to say. (aside) I don’t know how to tell her—she’ll hate me for it. (to heri Yes, we’ve always been chums, you and I, haven’t we, Kitty, since you used to come down in the hayfield with your little white pinner and blue dress, and bring daddy’s dinner, do you remember ? Kitty, Oh father, what is it ? Is it about Ned ? Ha3 he got into any trouble, any disgrace ? Tell me ! Tell me ! Grandfather. Law bless you, my gal, he’s all right, never you mind what they tell you. He’s all right ; don’t you listen to ’em. You stick to Ned. You stick to Ned, my gal. The young dog ! Mrs. P. (to Grandfather) You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Prettyjohn, at your time of life. Grandfather. No I ain’t, not a bit. I’m proud of my¬ self, and I’m proud of Ned. And you stick to him, Kit, my lass. Mrs. P. No she shan’t. I’ve made up my mind, and I’ll carry it out too. Kitty, remember, after this night, you have nothing to say to Ned Devenish. He’s a good /or-nothing, gambling, lazy, drunken- (Grandfather growls and scowls disapproval) Kitty. Oh, mother, mother ! (rising) Jehu, (to Mrs. Prettyjohn) Hold your tongue, Susan —do you want to break her heart ? I’ll tell her. Come here, my girl, come here ! (very slowly and steadily) You know, Kitty, your mother and 1 have been talking things over a HEARTS OF OAK. 7 little the last few days ; and—and—we—want to see you happy, my girl—that’s all we care for—because you know we’ve seen the best of our days—and we’re what you might call going down the hill of life, ain’t we? But you’re just beginning life, Kitty, and you have got all your best days to look forward to—and life ain’t so easy, my girl, as young folks think it—life’s very hard sometimes—and there’s no life so hard, Kitty, as a woman’s that’s tied to a careless vagabond of a husband. That’s the hardest life of all, Kitty. It’s different with a man ; no matter how bad a wife he may get, he’s got other duties and cares away from his home, and he can bear up against a bad helpmate. But there's no help for a woman ; if the man goes wrong, she’s bound to be dragged down along with him—no matter how she may struggle, and slave, and work to keep things straight and comfortable, down she must go—down, down, down, as far as he likes to drag her. Kitty, {sobbing) Don’t be too hard upon Ned, father. I’m —I’m—I’m sure—he—t-t-tries to be better—it’s—it’s—only his thoughtlessness ; he—he—m-m-means well, I’m sure. Grandfather. He’s all right — he’s all right—it’s too much nature, that’s what it is. He’s all right, ain’t he, Benjy ? Benjy. Yes, he’s all right — Ned’s all right. Kitty. And he promises he’ll reform, and be quite steady, and respectable, when we are married, Jehu. Ah ! don’t you trust to that, Kitty. You may depend upon it that if a man doesn’t care enough for a girl to reform his bad habits before marriage, it's a poor chance he’ll reform ’em afterwards. Kitty. But father — you—you — don’t want me to give Ned up after all these years—and he is so fond of me—it would break his heart, Mrs. P. Rubbish ! There’s plenty of men in the parish ’ll love you twenty times better, and men too that know how to keep money when they’ve got it, and don’t go and fling it in the gutter. Jehu. Hold your tongue, Susan. Kitty, my child, you must choose for yourself,—if you have made up your mind to have Ned Devenish, you’ll be your own mistress in a few years, and I can’t put a stop to it. It’s for your own sake, my girl, not for ours. But, Kitty, you don’t want to brirg down your father’s gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, do you ? And that’s what you would do if I was to see my Kitty married to a careless, good-for-nothing, drunken scamp,—you would break our hearts, that’s all- Kitty, (flinging her aims round his neck ) Oh father, father* don’t talk like that. Tell me what am I to do ? 8 HEARTS OF OAK. Grandfather. You stick to Ned, my wench, } t ou stick to Ned- Kitty. Tell me, father—I will be guided entirely by you. I will do what you think is best. Jehu. Well, my girl, you ask my advice and I’ll give it you. Ned is very fond of you, and you are very fond of him —we’re all fond of him ; scamp as he is, w© can't help liking him- Grandfather. The young rascal! Kitty. Oh, yes, his heart is gold—— Mrs. P. But his pockets ain’t- Jehu. ( continuing) I’d do anything for Ned, and we’ve always looked forward to the match. You know we have. But just at the very time when we might have expected him to be a little prudent and saving, lie breaks out as wild as a colt, and gambles and spends, and races his money away till he has scarcely got a penny piece left. He’s a ruined man, Kitty, and his wife will be a drudge and a pauper. And if you’re a brave, sensible girl you’ll bear a little pain now and throw him off. It’s better to have a heartache for an hour now, my girl, than to have it all your life afterwards- Kitty. Oh, father, must I give him up—must I—must I ? Jehu. You must, Kitty—you must. Say you’ll break it off the next time you see him. Promise your mother and me you’ll give him up. Kitty. Father I promise you—the next time I see Ned, I’ll break off our engagement, I promise you. Honour bright, I will ! Ned’s voice heard outside sinqivg u Hearts of Oak.” Jeiiu Prettyjohn beckons Benjy and Mrs. Prettyjohn to come away and leave them alone. Benjy taps Grand¬ father on shoulder—old man icon 1 1 stir from his chimney - corner. —Jehu ushers Mrs. Prettyjohn and Benjy out at door at l. Mrs. P. (as she is qoing out of the door , to Kitty) Remember your promise, Kitty—don’t break your word. Jehu. No need to remind my Kitty of what she has promised. (Exit Benjy, Mrs. Prettyjohn, and Jehu, door l.) Kitty, (to herself). So soon ! to break it off so soon ! This very night ! Oh, poor Ned ! How shall I tell him 1 'Enter Ned, at door back. Ned. (singing) “Steady, boys, steady—W® always are ready.” (to Grandfather) Well, old hearty, how goes it ? (to Kitty) Puss ! Puss ! HEARTS OF OAK. 9 Grandfather. Ye young dog, you ! I be a good mind to lay my stick across your back, I be. ( shakes his stick at him) Ned stands looking at Kitty as if waiting for her to rush up to him. Kitty glav.ces at him and stands silent with averted eyes. Ned. ( holds out his arms. Tenderly) Kit I Kit ! ( louder) Kit! Pussy ! Pussy 1 Gradfather. Kit, don’t you hear ? Here’s Ned! What’s the matter with the wench ? Ned goes insinuatingly up to Kitty, puts his arm round her ivaist. Ned. You vixen ! I’ll lead you a dance for this ! I’ll kiss every girl in the parish between this and Sunday night* She turns away from him ; he offers to kiss her. She resists , and runs away across the stage. Ned. Why Kit, what’s the matter ? Look here, ( pulling parcel from his pocket) I’ve brought you a new ribbon. (opens parcel , discovers a blue ribbon) There ! Now let me fasien it round your neck. When you’re my wife, Kit, you shall be the sweetest, smartest, piettiest, happiest little wife in the land ! Oh, I mean it! You shall! I’ll dress you like a queen, (he offers to put it round her neck, she pushes his hand away.) (yearningly.) Now, look here, if you don’t take it, I’ll go and give it to Sally Waterman ; she’ll take it ! She is in a consumption ’cause I won’t have anything to say to her ! She’d eat me if I’d let her. Kitty. I must not take it. Don’t ask me, Ned. Ned. Why what’s the matter ? (somewhat alarmed.) Kitty (aside). Oh, how shall I tell him? (to him) Ned, Ned, oh, Ned—I—I—know—you’ll hate*-me—when I tell you. Ned. Hate you ? What for ? What’s the matter ? Kitty. Our engagement is broken off. Oh, Ned, forgive me; I can’t help it. I promised- Ned. This is your old mother again ! (aside) I wonder what old women were made for ? I can’t see the use of ’em. I wish the law would abolish ’em, or put a stiff tax on ’ em. Kitty. Forgive me, Ned. You know I can’t help it. I promised my father I would break it off the next time I saw you. Forgive me. Ned. Forgive you ? Why, Kit, you know you don’t mean it. Grandfather. No, she don’t mean it. Kitty. Indeed I do. Oh, Ned, it’ll break my heart t