ACT V.

SCENE.—_Josiah Allen’s wife with bonnet on ready to start.—She says to herself: “I wonder why Josiah Allen don’t come. We shall be late to that quire meetin’.”—When Simon Slimpsey rushes in and sinks down in a chair._

SIMON. Am I pursued?

SAM. There hain’t nobody in sight. Has your life been attacked by burglers and incindiarys? Speak, Simon Slimpsey, speak!

SIMON. Betsey Bobbett!

SAM. What of her, Simon Slimpsey?

SIMON. She’ll be the death on me, and my soul is jeopardized on account of her. To think that I, a member of a authordox church, and the father of thirteen small children, could be tempted to swear. But I did, not more’n two minutes ago. I said, By Jupiter! I can’t stand it so much longer. And last night to meetin’, when she was payin’ attention to me, I wished I was a ghost; for I thought if I was a apperition I could vanish from her view. Oh! I have got so low as to wish I was a ghost. She come a rushin’ out of Deacon Gowdy’s just now as I came past jest a purpose to talk to me. She don’t give me no peace. Last night she would walk tight to my side all the way from meetin’ and she looked so hungry at the gate, as I went through and fastened it on the inside.

SAM. Mebby she’ll marry the editor of the _Augur_. She is payin’ attention to him.

SIMON. No; she won’t get him; I shall be the one, I always was the one. It has always been so, if there was ever a underlin’ and a victim wanted, I was that underlin’ and that victim. And Betsey Bobbett will get round me yet, you see if she don’t.

SAM. Cheer up, Simon Slimpsey; folks hain’t obleeged to marry if they don’t want to.

SIMON. Yes they be; if folks get round ’em. Hain’t you seen her verses in last week’s _Augur_?

SAM. No, I haint. (_Simon hands her the paper and she reads_):

Oh, wedlock is our only hope, All o’er this mighty nation, Men are brought up to other trades, But this is our vocation; Oh! not for sense or love ask we, We ask not te be courted, Our watchword is to married be, That we may be supported.

Say not you’re strong and love to work, Are healthier than your brother, Who for a blacksmith is designed, Such feelings you must smother; Your restless hands fold up or gripe Your waist into a span, And spend your strength in looking out To hail the coming man.

CHORUS.—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, Press onward, do not fear, Remember women’s spear, sister, Remember women’s spear.

SAM. Wall, she believes that marryin’ is wimmen’s only spear.

SIMON. It is that spear that is going to destroy me.

SAM. Don’t give up so Simon Slimpsey; I hate to see you lookin’ so gloomy and deprested.

SIMON. It is the awful determination of them lines that apauls me. I have seen it in another. Betsey Bobbett reminds me dreadfully of another; she makes me think of that first wife of mine. And I don’t want to marry again Miss Allen, I don’t want to. I didn’t want to marry the first time, I wanted to be a bachelder. I think they have the easiest time of it by half. Now there is a friend of mine that is only half an hour younger than I be, and that hadn’t ought to make much difference in our looks, had it?

SAM. No, Simon Slimpsey, it hadn’t.

SIMON. Well; you ought to see what a head of hair he’s got now; sound to the roots, not a lock missing. I wanted to be one, but my late wife come and kept house for me, and—and married me. I lived with her for eighteen years, and when she left me I was—I was reconciled. I was reconciled some time before it took place. I don’t want to say nothin’ against nobody that hain’t round here in this world, but I lost a good deal of hair by my late wife; and I wanted to keep a lock or two for my children to keep as a relict of me. I have got thirteen, as you know, countin’ each pair of twins as two, and it would take a considerable number of hairs to go round. I don’t want to marry agin.

SAM. Mebby you are borrowin’ trouble without cause, Simon Slimpsey, with life there is hope. Don’t give up so Simon Slimpsey; mebby she’ll marry the editor of the _Augur_; she’s payin’ lots of attention to him.

SIMON. No, he won’t have her, she’ll get round me yet—you mark my words, and when the time comes you will think of what I told you. (_Simon weeps_) You see if she don’t get round me yet.

SAM. Chirk up, Simon Slimpsey, be a man.

SIMON. That is the trouble, if I wasn’t a man she would give me some peace. (_He weeps bitterly. The curtain falls, but rises immediately for the quire scene._)