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Petruchio’s Widow.

A Shakesperian Travesty

In One Act.

Characters.

Mr. Romeo Montague, an unlucky suitor.
Mr. Moses Shylock, a pawnbroker.
Mrs. Kate Petruchio, a dashing widow.
Miss Helena, an affectionate spinster.
Mrs. Desdemona Othello, an unhappy neighbor.
Mrs. Jessica Lorenzo, an ungrateful daughter.

Scene:—A parlor; door pract. C. flat; window L. flat, open; table beneath window; rocking chair R. C.; chairs at wings; Mrs. Petruchio discovered standing in door.

Mrs. Pet.—’Tis a good thing that Jessica has finished dusting this parlor; no nonsense will I tolerate from man, woman, or child within this domicile. (Enters and throws herself in rocking chair.) Petruchio ran affairs while living; but, in his demise—poor fellow—I re-inherited the freedom of my tongue. (Calls) Jessica!

Jessica (from without).—I am here; please wait; don’t scold; here I am. (Enters L.) Your pleasure, madam.

Mrs. Pet.—Have you washed the front steps, scrubbed the pavement and wrung out the clothes that were wet by the rain?

Jessica.—Alas! all these, and more, have I done. I have picked the beans, mixed the batter for muffins, put the mackerel in soak for breakfast, and——

Mrs. Pet.—Enough! Why thus parade before my fancy’s eye the coarse details of cookery. I tell you ’tis scarce an hour since I ate—the subject is distasteful.

Jessica.—But, madam, you asked me what——

Mrs. Pet. (stamps foot).—Silence!

Jessica.—You are dreadfully cross. When I came to you and told you the story of my life, how I eloped with poor, dear Lorenzo, who was all a woman could ask, while the money I took from father lasted——

Mrs. Pet.—And who hastily departed simultaneously with the last ducat——

Jessica.—Do not wound my spirit. I repeat, you promised to give me shelter, to shield me, treat me kindly——

Mrs. Pet.—Shut up! move! Lorenzo, you say, has gone to Padua to seek a position as pen-wiper to Ballario; believe it not; he is in Venice suing for a divorce before the Duke. Unhappy woman, move!

Jessica (aside).—As Jessica Shylock I was envied as a rich man’s child; as Jessica Lorenzo I am——

Mrs. Pet.—What’s the use of whining; you will never see Lorenzo more.

Jessica.—

There is a tide in the affairs of men—

If men, then women, too—

Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries;

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures!

I leave for Venice this very night!

Mrs. Pet.—Away to the kitchen and put on the beans!

Jessica (looks off L).

Mrs. Pet.—

Alas! how is it with you,

That you do bend your eye on vacancy

And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?

Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep!

Jessica (points L).—T. O. M.

Mrs. Pet.—T. O. M.? Tom who?

Jessica.—No, no! The—old—man; my father, Moses Shylock, is creeping up the gravel path. Hide me! Do not betray me!

Mrs. Pet.—

Though all the world should crack their duty,

And throw it from their soul; though perils did

Abound as thick as thought could make them, and

Appear in forms more horrid; yet would I

Be true; yea, true as truth itself,

And stand unshaken yours,—

Away to the kitchen and you are safe!

Jessica.—I love my father, but I fear his righteous rage.

Mrs. Pet.—Stay, then; confess and ask his pardon.

Jessica (Shakes head sadly and exits R).

Mrs. Pet.—

What! gone without a word?

Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak;

For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

[Enter Shylock, door F.]

Mrs. Pet.—How now, Shylock? What news among the merchants? What will you loan upon my ulster?

Shylock.—Take it to my brother Solomon, on the Rialto; he’ll give you liberally and charge you naught for camphor.

Mrs. Pet.—Have you heard from your daughter, and your son-in-law, Lorenzo, lately?

Shylock.—No, no; not I. All hope to find her long hath fled. One-half the jewels that she took no doubt Lorenzo pawned; and yet the thankless knave sent me not e’en a ticket to redeem the goods!

Mrs. Pet.—’Tis said, for satisfaction’s sake, you now refuse to grant renewal of your loans, e’en though the interest thereon be paid; ay, that Antonio, the poor butcher, will lose the meats that now are forfeit. Why take his venison? Wilt answer, Shylock?

Shylock.—

I hate him, for he is a Christian;

But more, for that, in low simplicity,

He lends out money gratis, and brings down

The rate of usance here with us in Venice.

If I can catch him once upon the hip

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.

He hates our sacred nation; and he rails

Even there where merchants most do congregate,

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,

Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe

If I forgive him.

Mrs. Pet.—If I were his wife you would not thus berate the man. If Petruchio could speak, he’d say so too.

Shylock.—I seek my truant child; I heard she lived, not long since, hereabouts.

Mrs. Pet.—Excuse me, Mr. Shylock, call again.

Shylock.—Have you any old garments to sell?

Mrs. Pet.—Leave, and call again; two neighbors now approach who may mistake the object of your visit. Go! Leave by the side door.

Shylock.—

O father Abraham, what these Christians are,

Whose own hard dealings teach them to suspect

The thoughts of others! Adieu!"

[Exit L.]

Mrs. Pet (looking L).—O, you miserly old money-grabber, if you think I will tell on poor Jessica, you know but little of Kate Petruchio! Go! go! go! you old parent, you stingy father, and con over your collaterals of watches, fiddles, bibles and pistols!

[Enter Miss Helena and Mrs. Othello, door F.; they pause and observe Mrs. Petruchio.]

If I was your wife wouldn’t I take the kinks out of those grizzly locks, though!

Mrs. Othello (to Helena).—What should this mean?

Helena.—O what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!

Mrs. Pet.—Ah, ladies, kind, sweet neighbors, how glad I am to see you here!

Mrs. Othello.—Do you have any pain here? (Touches head).

Helena.—Is not the plumb-bob of your mental plumb-line out of plumb?

Mrs. Pet.—

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,

And makes as healthful music: It is not madness

That I have uttered: bring me to the test,

And I the matter will re-word, which madness

Would gambol from.

Saw you not that animated gaberdine descend my garden path?

Mrs. Othello.—You do not mean our mutual uncle, Moses Shylock; from whom, however, I never borrow.

Helena.—Nor I.

Mrs. Petruchio.—Do you mean to insinuate that I presume upon his kinship to obtain loans?

Mrs. Othello.—What have I done that thou dar’st wag thy tongue in noise so rude against me?

Helena.—Hist! he comes!

Mrs. Petruchio.—Who comes?

Helena.—My Romeo.

Mrs. Othello.—Your Romeo! Forsooth you have not spoken to him more than twice.

Romeo (Without, singing).—

“Oh, meet me by moonlight alone,

And then I will tell you a tale

Must be told in the moonlight alone,

In the grove——”

Helena.—

If music be the food of love, sing on,

Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken and so die.

Mrs. Pet.—

This music mads me; let it sound no more,

For though it have helped mad men to their wits,

In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.

Romeo (without, sings).—

“Oh, meet me by moonlight a — — — — — lone!”

Helena.—

That strain again; it had a dying fall;

Oh, it came o’er my ear like the sweet south,

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odor.

Romeo (without, sings).—

“Yes, meet—yes, meet—yes, meet me by moonlight a—lone.”

Mrs. Pet.—Horrible! monstrous! was ever sound so nerve-destroying heard save from the larynx of a dying calf? I despise these daylight serenades.

Mrs. Othello.—

The woman that hath no music in herself,

Nor is not woo’d with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;

The motions of her spirit are dull as night,

And her affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such dame be trusted!

Mrs. Pet.—Ha! this is more than I can brook; my tongue’s my own to wag it as I will, therefore attempt not to criticise my criticisms——I repeat, the fellow sings like a Scandinavian bag-pipe.

Helena.—Ladies, pray be still! He may hear your dreadful comments.

[Knock heard at door.]

’Tis he!

Mrs. Othello.—Let him not in until I depart! If Mr. Othello should happen to step in and find me in company with this gallant youth his jealousy would know no bounds!

[Knock repeated.]

Mrs. Pet.—Nonsense! I hope he does come, I’d like to give him my opinion of jealous husbands—

Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine

To joyless dread, and mak’st the loving heart

With hateful thoughts to languish and to pine,

And feed itself with self-consuming smart;

Of all the passions in the mind thou vilest art!

Romeo (without).—I suppose there’s no one home. (Knocks). Hello! anybody in?

Helena (opens door).—Mr. Romeo! how delightful this surprise.

Romeo (enters).—To me this is a pleasure sweet, sweet beyond comparison. (Aside.) Her looks do argue her replete with modesty.

Helena.—It gives me wonder, great as my content, to see you here before me.

Mrs. Pet.—

Sir, you are very welcome to our house:

It must appear in other ways than words,

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

Mrs. Othello.—

A hundred thousand welcomes; I could weep,

And I could laugh; I am light and heavy—welcome.

[Looks about cautiously.]

Yea, I could laugh and weep (aside.) It entirely depends upon the movements of Mr. Othello. He’s so jealous.

Mrs. Pet.—Be seated, friend Romeo; Miss Helena will entertain you while Mrs. Othello and I see that the festive board is spread below. Come, away to the pantry!

[Exit followed by Mrs. Othello.]

Romeo (places a chair for Helena).

(Aside) There’s language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,

Nay, her foot speaks. (Aloud.) Be seated, miss.

Helena.—Thank you, sir. (Aside.) I know not why I love this youth.

Romeo.—

Helena, I love thee; by my life I do;

I swear by that which I will lose for thee,

To prove him false that says I love thee not!

Helena.—Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ay, and I will take thy word.

Romeo (takes chair).—

O happy fair!

Your eyes are load-stars, and your tongue’s sweet air,

More tunable than lark to shepherds’ ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.

Helena.—You have bereft me of all words.

Romeo (aside).—

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

[Knock at door.]

(Aloud.) Ah, me! for aught that I could ever read;

Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth.

[Rises and opens door.]

[Enter Shylock with old garments on his arm.]

Helena (rising).—

His horrid image doth unfix my hair,

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs.

Romeo.—

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!

Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,

Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell;

Be thy intents wicked or charitable

Thou comest in such a questionable shape

That I will speak to thee!

Shylock (to Helena).—

I do defy him, and I spit at him;

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain,

Which to maintain, I would allow him odds,

And meet him where I tried to run a-foot;

Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps.

[Throws garments on floor.]

Helena.—

What cracker is this same that deafs our ears

With this abundance of superfluous breath?

Romeo.—

He gives the bastinado with his tongue;

Our ears are cudgel’d; not a word of his,

But buffets better than a fist of France:

Zounds, I was never so bethumped with words

Since I first called my brother’s father dad.

Shylock.—Peace! one word: in yonder pile, for little more than half the cost, a seal-skin wrap and overcoat may grace your youthful forms.

Romeo (to Shylock in undertone).—I pray thee, gentle signor of the Gilded Balls, say naught before this maid that will reveal the fact that half my garments now repose upon your shelves.

Helena (to Shylock).—To-night I’ll steal into thy place of trade, and, under cover of the evening’s shades, examine well the seal-skin sack whereof you speak. Say nothing now, sir; mum’s the word!

Shylock.—’Tis in my memory locked, and you yourself shall keep the key of it.

[Enter Jessica, Mrs. Petruchio and Mrs. Othello.]

Jessica.—Oh! Oh! (jumps behind Mrs. Petruchio).

Mrs. Othello.—Hide me! Save me!

Mrs. Pet.—Thou shalt be punished for thus frightening me, thou man of loans. Be quiet sweet Mrs. Othello, thy husband is not here.

Mrs. Othello.—Mr. Romeo, what brings this, our general kinsman, here upon the scene?

Romeo.—His business calls him here.

Mrs. Pet.—Romeo, put him out: mind not his glaring eyes, but put him hence!

Romeo.—

Prythee, peace!

I dare do all that may become a man;

Who dares do more is none!

Mrs. Pet.—

What seek’st thou?

Avaunt, and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;

Thou hast no speculation in thy eyes

Which thou dost glare with!

Helena (to Shylock).—

Win her with gifts if she respect not words;

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,

More quick than words do move a woman’s mind.

Mrs. Pet.—See here, old man, just tell me what you want?

Shylock.—

My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!

Fled with a Christian! O my, my Christian ducats!

Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter!

A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,

Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl!

Romeo.—Poor man!

Helena.—Why not advertise her in the papers?

Mrs. Othello.—Or, like my husband, employ a private detective?

Shylock (to Mrs. Petruchio).—Woman, tell me where to find my child! Lorenzo, he has been set free by the Venice court’s decree. If the proof you wish to see, take the train for the city by the sea.

Mrs. Pet.—I know not where Jessica Shylock lives, nor care to hear your family cares.

Shylock.—

A serpent heart, hid with a flow’ring face,

Did ever dragon keep so fair a case?

Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical!

Just opposite to what thou seem’st—

I see my daughter’s head behind thy ear,

Ay, behind the wig that doth surmount thy head!

Mrs. Pet.—Me wear a wig? O wrinkled Jew, take back thy child, whom only kindness taught me to conceal. No more courage now remains: away with her! In saying that I wear a wig, you crush my heart, and now I fain would be alone.

Jessica (embraces Shylock).—Father, forgive me!

Romeo.—See! the Jew relents!

Helena.—O gentle Romeo!

Mrs. Othello.—I hope I shall get home before the Moor returns!

Shylock (takes Mrs. Petruchio’s hand.)

You are a widow, and I without a wife,

Seek, vainly seek, for joy in life—

Will you, in short, old Shylock wed?

Mrs. Pet.—Think you, sir, my reason’s fled. (Withdrawing hand indignantly.) Marry you? Never! Sooner would I see you hanged.

Shylock.—But are you happy?

Romeo.—

Happy in this, she is not yet so old