| William (a Good Boy) | Mr. Harry Nicholls. |
| Thomas (a Bad Boy) | Mr. Herbert Campbell. |
| |
| Benjamin (neither one thing nor the other) | Mr. Samuel Super. |
| The Monster Man-Trap | Mr. George Conquest. |
Scene.—An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard; realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter William and Thomas, hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and advance to front of stage.
Duet.—William and Thomas.
Wm. I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
It's Thomas who's the bad 'un—I'm the good!
Thos. Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
Chorus.
Wm. Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
Thos. While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
he's
Together. Yes, now { I've } grown into a awful young limb.
I've made up my mind not to imitate him!
[Here they dance.
Second Verse.
Wm. If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
When I am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
Thos. (impenitently). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
[Chorus.
Third Verse.
Wm. He's always cribbing coppers—which he spends on lollipops.
Thos. (A share of which you've never yet refused!)
Wm. A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
Thos. (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
[Chorus.
Fourth Verse.
Wm. As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
Thos. You play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
Wm. (demurely). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in that!
[Chorus.
Fifth Verse.
Wm. Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
Thos. Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
Wm. No, Thomas, that I cannot—till you promise to amend!
Thos. Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
[Chorus and dance. Thomas returns to road, and regards the apple-trees longingly over top of wall.
Thos. Hi, William, look ... what apples! there—don't you see?
And pears—my eye! just ain't they looking juicy!
Wm. Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
I will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
[Exit William (l. 2 e.), while Thomas proceeds to scale the wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree. Melodramatic Music. The Monster Man-trap stealthily emerges from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the unconscious Thomas.
Thos. I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
Oh, lor—whatever is that hugly beast!
Hi, help, here! call him off!...
The Monster. 'Tis vain to holler—
My horders are—all trespassers to swoller!
You just come down—I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
(Indignantly.) You don't expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
Thos. (politely.) Oh, not if it would inconvenience you, Sir!
(In agonised aside.) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
[The Monster, in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to scramble up the tree.
Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can climb!
Too late I do repent me of my crime!
[Terrific sensation chase! The Monster Man-trap leaps from bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures his prey, and leaps with it to the ground.
Thos. (in the Monster's jaws). I'm sure you seem a kind, good-natured creature—
You will not harm me?
Monster. No—I'll only eat yer!
[Thomas slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells are heard at intervals—then nothing but a dull champing sound; after which, dead silence. The Monster smiles, with an air of repletion.
Re-enter William, from r., with Benjamin.
Benjamin. I'm very glad you came—but where is Thomas?
Wm. (severely). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
[Sees Man-trap, and starts.
Benj. It will not hurt good boys at all—
It's only Father's Man-trap—why so pale?
Wm. The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom would scale!
Where's Thomas now? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
[The Man-trap affects an elaborate unconsciousness.
Benj. (with sudden enlightenment). Man-trap, I do believe poor Tom's inside of you!
That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
[The Man-trap endeavours to hide in the grass.
Wm. Ah, Monster, give him back—'tis true he's vicious,
And had no business to go making free with you!
But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
[William and Benjamin kneel in attitudes of entreaty on either side of the Man-trap, which shows signs of increasing emotion as the song proceeds.
Benjamin (sings).
Man-trap, bitter our distress is
That you have unkindly penned
In your innermost recesses
One who used to be our friend!
William (sings).
In his downward course arrest him!
(He may take a virtuous tack);
Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
Make an effort—bring him back!
[The Man-trap is convulsed by a violent heave; William and Benjamin bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a small shoe and the leg of Thomas's pantaloons are finally emitted from the Monster's jaws.
Benj. (exultantly). See, William, now he's coming ... here's his shoe for you!
The Man-trap (with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry—but that's all that I can do for you!
Wm. (raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
them sorrowfully at arm's length).
He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it be-time!
(More brightly). But now to wash our hands—'tis nearly tea-time!
[Exeunt William and Benjamin, to wash their hands, as Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional "picture."
Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is, perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music Halls is complete—when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "What Cheer, 'Ria?" at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of Hamlet at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of culture, and removal of prejudice—then, and not till then, will this powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, The Pin, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working out the notion of Nemesis.
Dramatis Personæ.
| Emily Heedless. | By either Miss Vesta Tilley or Mrs. Bernard Beere. |
| Peter Paragon. | Mr. Forbes Robertson or Mr. Arthur Roberts |
| |
| First and Second Bridesmaids. | Miss Maude Millett and Miss Annie Hughes. |
Scene.—Emily's Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen and sofa, c. Door, r., leading to Emily's Bed-chamber. Door, l. Emily discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in uncomfortable position on sofa.
Emily (dreamily). This day do I become the envied bride
Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
And much I wonder what in me he found
(He, who Perfection so personifies)
That he could condescend an eye to cast
On faulty feather-headed Emily!
How solemn is the stillness all around me!
[A loud bang is heard behind screen.
Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!—
Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
Since I am, by my settlements, to have
A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
Go, then, and join the great majority
Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood—
My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
To heed such infidelities as thine.
[Falls into a happy reverie.
Enter First and Second Bridesmaids.
First and Second Bridesmaids. What, how now, Emily—not yet attired?
Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
[They hurry her off by r. door, just as Peter Paragon enters l. in bridal array. N.B.—The exigencies of the Drama are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of waiting, as is more usual, at the church.
Peter (meditatively). The golden sands of my celibacy
Are running low—soon falls the final grain!
Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
My Emily is not without her faults
"Was not without them," I should rather say,
For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
By precept and example I have striven
To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
[Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation.
Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
I'll summon help (with calm courage)—yet, stay, I would not dim
This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
I'll bear this stroke alone—and now to probe
The full extent of my calamity.
[Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove his boot.
Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
I must know more of this—for it is meet
Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
Who's proved to be responsible for this!—
But soft, I hear a step.
[Enter First and Second Bridesmaids, who hunt diligently upon the carpet without observing Peter's presence.
Emily's Voice (within). Oh, search, I pray you.
It must be there—my own ears heard it fall!
[Peter betrays growing uneasiness.
The Bridesmaids. Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
Emily (entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large
rent in her train).
You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
It must be found, or I am all undone!
In vain my cushion I have cut in two
'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
To think that all my future bliss depends
On the evasive malice of a pin!
[Peter behind screen, starts violently.
Peter (aside). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
[Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his hand.
You seem in some excitement, Emily?
Emily (wildly). You, Peter!... tell me—have you found a pin?
Peter (with deadly calm). Unhappy girl—I have! (To Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
And should we need you, we will summon you.
[Exeunt Bridesmaids; Emily and Peter stand facing each other for some moments in dead silence.
The pin is found—for I have trodden on it,
And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
Emily (in the desperate hope of shielding herself).
Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
Peter (with a passionless severity).
From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
Did they not own just now that you had heard
The falling of a pin—yet heeded not?
Behold the outcome of your negligence!
[Extends his injured foot.
Emily. Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
Peter (coldly withdrawing foot). Keep your caresses till I ask for them.
My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
And by that disregarded pin is pricked
The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
Emily (slowly). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
Peter. Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
Magnanimous, but still methodical.
An injury I freely can forgive,
Forget it (striking his chest), never! She who leaves about
Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
Will surely plant a thorn within the side
Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
Emily (dragging herself towards him on her knees). Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
Peter (with emotion). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
Had served you to secure your gaping train,
Your self-respect—and Me.
Emily (wailing). What have I done?
Peter. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
The pain of which increases momently.
I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
That fated instrument I leave with you
[Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically.
Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
[Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is perceptible.
I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
My poor success in life I trace to this
That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
Emily. And is that all you have to say to me?
Peter. I think so—save that I shall wish you well,
And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
Emily (with a pale smile). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
For precious has this pin become for me,
Since by its aid I gain oblivion—thus! [Stabs herself.
Peter (coldly.) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
[Assists her to sofa.
Emily. I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
Do not withdraw it yet—my time is short,
And I have much to say before I die.
(Faintly.) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
Give my canary chickweed now and then.
... I think there is no more—ah, one last word—
(Earnestly)—Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
And then the pastrycook may take it back!
Peter (deeply moved). Would you had shown this thoughtfulness before! [Kneels by the sofa.
Emily. 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
Peter (gently). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
You did your best to be so, Emily!
Emily. A blessing on you for those generous words!
Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
Peter. The agony decidedly abates,
And I can almost bear a boot again.
Emily. Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
[Dies.
Peter. In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
I shall not bear a boot for many days!
Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
[Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house.
Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor.
Dramatis Personæ.
| Blanchidine, Brunette. | } | By the celebrated Sisters Stilton, the Champion Duettists and Clog-Dancers. |
| Fanny Furbelow. | By Miss Sylvia Sealskin (by kind permission of the Gaiety Management). | |
| Frank Manly. | By Mr. Henry Neville. |
Scene—A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the Serpentine and Round Pond.
Enter Blanchidine and Brunette, with their arms thrown affectionately around one another. Blanchidine is carrying a large and expressionless wooden doll.
Duet and Step-dance.
Bl. Oh, I do adore Brunette! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
Br. Blanchidine's the sweetest pet! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Together. When the sun is high,
We come out to ply,
Nobody is nigh,
All is mirth and j'y!
With a pairosol,
We'll protect our doll,
Make a mossy bed
For her wooden head!
[Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if they belonged to some other persons.
Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-clack! [Repeat ad. lib.
Bl. (apologetically to Audience). Her taste in dress is rather plain! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Br. (in pitying aside). It is a pity she's so vain! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Bl. 'Tis a shime to smoile,
But she's shocking stoyle,
It is quite a troyal,
Still—she mikes a foil!
Br. Often I've a job
To suppress a sob,
She is such a snob,
When she meets a nob!
[Step-dance as before.
[N.B.—In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written as they will most probably be spoken.
Bl. (looking off with alarm). Why, here comes Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
She'll find me with Brunette—it's too embarrassing!
[Aside.
(To Brunette.) Brunette, my love, I know such a pretty game we'll play at—
Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
(The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
And you shall take her there—(hypocritically)—you're such a friend!
Br. (with simplicity). Oh, yes, that will be splendid, Blanchidine,
And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
[Blan. resigns the wooden doll to Brun., who skips off with it, l., as Fanny Furbelow enters r., carrying a magnificent wax doll.
Fanny (languidly). Ah, howdy do—isn't this heat too
frightful? And so you're quite alone?
Bl. (nervously.) Oh, quite—oh yes, I always am alone,
when there's nobody with me.
[This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at which she is justly considered a proficient.
Fanny (drawling). Delightful!
When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
If I should meet a creature that I know;
Allow me—my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
[Introducing doll.
Bl. (rapturously). Oh, what a perfect love!
Fanny.She ought to be—for a guinea!
Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
[Gives Blan. the wax doll.
She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing—
For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
Bl. (hastily). Oh, so have I—they're not to be endured!
Re-enter Brunette with the wooden doll, which she tries to press upon Blanchidine, much to the latter's confusion.
Br. I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking so cloudy!
F. (haughtily). Is she a friend of yours—this little dowdy? [Slow music.
Bl. (after an internal struggle). Oh, no, what an idea!
Why, I don't even know her by name!
Some vulgar child ...
[Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel.
Br. (indignantly). Oh, what a horrid shame!
I see now why you sent us to the Serpentine!
Bl. (heartlessly). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
Br. (ungrammatically). I'm not! Disown your doll, and thrust me, too, aside!
The one thing left for both of us is—suicide!
Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes—
(Bitterly.) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
[Rushes off stage with wooden doll.
Bl. (making a feeble attempt to follow). Come back, Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
F. (with contempt). Well, I'll be off—since you seem to prefer vulgarity.
Bl. No, stay—but—ah, she said—what if she meant it?
F. Not she! And, if she did, we can't prevent it.
Bl. (relieved). That's true—we'll play, and think no more about her.
F. (sarcastically). We may just manage to get on without her!
So come——(Perceives doll lying face upwards on path.)
You odious girl, what have you done?
Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
'Twas done on purpose—oh, you thing perfidious! [Stamps.
You knew she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
Don't answer me, Miss—I wish we'd never met.
You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
[Picks up doll, and exit in passion.
Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by Blanchidine, to Melodramatic Music.
Bl. Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again! She wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens! that threat—that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the direction of the Pond they vanished. (Peeping anxiously between trees.) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and resolute they both appear! (Shuddering.) I dare not look further—but ah, I must—I must!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her little black stockings!... Help!—save her, somebody!—help!... Joy! a gentleman has appeared on the scene—how handsome, how brave he looks! He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he removes his coat—oh, don't trouble about folding it up!—and why, why remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now, with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by emotion. And now—oh, gallant, heroic soul!—now he is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (Straining eagerly forward.) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out—he has reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it!—he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog, is this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands—he dives ... he brings up—agony! a small tin cup! Again ... this time, surely—what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes—no, yes, it is Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette? Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is rescued—saved—ha-ha-ha!—saved, saved, saved!
[Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause.
Enter Frank Manly supporting Brunette, who carries Timburina.
Bl. (wildly). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
Br. Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even wet!
Frank (modestly). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
When in distress, is every hero's duty!
Bl. Brunette, forgive—I'm cured of all my folly!
Br. (heartily). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
[Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and "clickity-clack" refrain as finale.
Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race will tell in the long run, despite—but, on second thoughts, it does not quite prove that, though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental—at least, that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that Mr. Punch is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a democratic audience.
Dramatis Personæ.
| The Earl of Burntalmond. | ||
| The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife). | ||
| Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir). | ||
| The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl). | ||
| Horehound Mrs. Horehound Coltsfoot Horehound |
} | Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and elegant Drawing-room Entertainment. |
| Tenantry. | ||
Scene—The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners, mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps, r., the Earl, supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a night.
The Earl (patting Lord Bullsaye's shoulder). I might say more, Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here—I might dwell on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all ages—but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day—the day he has selected for attaining his majority—he has gratified us all by plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural affinity. [Cheers.
Lord Bullsaye (aside to Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness could last! But my heart misgives me strangely—why, I know not.
Lady R. Say not so, dear Bullsaye—have you not just rendered me the happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
Lord B. 'Tis true—and yet, and yet—pooh, let me snatch the present hour! [Snatches it.
The Earl. And now, let the Revels commence.
Enter the Korffdropp Troupe, who give their marvellous Entertainment, entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which—
Horehound. This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my right.
[Exit Mrs. Horehound.
The Earl (graciously). I will hear you, fellow! (Aside.) Strange how familiar his features seem to me!
Horeh. The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of the wrong heir. (Sensation—i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly.) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years ago—(slow music)—I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well—(tells a long, and not entirely original, story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green and magenta bows, &c., &c.) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice——
The Earl (haughtily). I did, upon discovering that you were in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
Horeh. I swore to be avenged, and so—(common form again; the shifted bows)—consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real Viscount is—(presenting Coltsfoot, who advances modestly on his hands)—'ere!
[Renewed sensation.
The Earl. This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (To Lord B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent imposition—a gilded lie?
Lord B. Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my best excuse!
The E. Nothing can excuse the fact that you—you, a low-born son of the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education, which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (To Coltsfoot.) Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these years of injustice and neglect!
Colts. Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it 'ud be a beginning, like.
The E. You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first remove that incongruous garb.
Colts. (to Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to you now, young feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
Lord B. (with emotion, to Countess). Mother, can you endure to behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
Countess (coldly). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
Lord B. (to Lady R.). Rose, you, at least, have not changed? Tell me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's pole!
Lady Rose (scornfully). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the lower orders is perfectly appalling!
The Earl (to Countess, as Lord B. and Coltsfoot retire to exchange costumes). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
Countess. And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of recovering our son—of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork strapped on to his dexter heel!
The E. (with emotion). Our beloved, boneless boy!
[Re-enter Coltsfoot in modern dress, and Lord B. in tights.
Colts. Don't I look slap-up—O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I am 'aving a beano!
All. What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
The E. My dear boy, let me present you to your fiancée. Rose, my love, this is your legitimate lover.