Part 1

DRAWING ROOMS, SECOND FLOOR, AND ATTICS.

_A Farce,_

IN ONE ACT.

BY JOHN MADDISON MORTON, ESQ.,

(_Member of the Dramatic Authors' Society_),

AUTHOR OF

Lend me Five Shillings, Three Cuckoos, Catch a Weazel, Where there's a Will there's a Way, John Dobbs, A Most Unwarrantable Intrusion, Going to the Derby, Your Life's in Danger, Midnight Watch, Box and Cox, Trumpeter's Wedding, Done on Both Sides, Poor Pillicoddy, Old Honesty, Young England, King and I, My Wife's Second Floor, Who do they take me for? The Thumping Legacy, Milliners' Holiday, Wedding Breakfast, Irish Tiger, Attic Story, Who's the Composer? Who's my Husband? Slasher and Crasher, Prince for an Hour, Away with Melancholy, Waiting for an Omnibus, Betsy Baker, Who Stole the Pocket-Book? Two Bonnycastles, From Village to Court, Grimshaw, Bagshaw, and Bradshaw, Rights and Wrongs of Women, Sent to the Tower, Our Wife, Brother Ben, Take Care of Dowb--, Wooing One's Wife, Margery Daw, The Double-Bedded Room, the "Alabama," &c. &c.

THOMAS HAILES LACY, 89, STRAND, LONDON, _W.C._

DRAWING ROOMS, &c.

_First performed at the Royal Princess's Theatre, (under the management of Mr. George Vining), on Easter Monday, the_ 28_th of March,_ 1864.

_Characters._

TRIPTOLEMUS BROWN Mr. DAVID FISHER.

MR. BUNNY (_a retired Furrier_) Mr. H. MELLON.

MR. COCKLETOP Mr. C. SEYTON.

CAPTAIN HARDAPORT Mr. H. FORRESTER.

LUKE SHARP (_a Pastrycook's Assistant_) Mr. R. CATHCART.

JONATHAN (_Servant to Mr. Bunny_) Mr. CHAPMAN.

CAROLINE BUNNY Miss EMMA BARNETT.

ARABELLA HARDAPORT (_a Miliner_) Miss REBECCA POWELL.

PHOEBE FURBELOW (_niece to Jonathan_) Miss HELEN HOWARD.

_Time in Performance_--45 _minutes._

COSTUMES OF THE DAY.

DRAWING ROOMS, SECOND FLOOR, AND ATTICS.

SCENE FIRST.--_Interior of an Attic. Small door at L. flat; small attic window at C., shewing the slanting roof of a house beyond, with two large chimney pots, &c._

_At the rising of the curtain, PHOEBE is discovered on chair, R., taking down linen, which is hanging up on a line, and depositing it in a clothes basket at her side._

PHOEBE. (_singing_) I'm off to Charlestown early in the morning; I'm off to Charlestown, and little time to stay; Then give my respects to all the pretty yellar girls; I'm off to Charlestown before the break of day.

_The small door, L. C., opens, and JONATHAN appears--he has a house broom in one hand._

JONATHAN. Ah! there's my pretty, merry-hearted little bird, chirruping away as usual.

PHOEBE. Yes, uncle Jonathan, and now that you _are_ here, you'll help your "little bird" to take down her clothes line, won't you? (_gets down_)

JONATH. Very well; only we must look sharp about it; our drawing rooms and second floor give a party to-night. Dear, dear! only to think of the swaps and changes of this mortal life! I recollect our drawing rooms and second floor, Mr. Bunny, going about the streets of London, crying, "Hare skins--rabbit skins!"

PHOEBE. And now he's a retired furrier, with no end of money! I only wish I was rich!

JONATH. Phoebe, allow me to remind you, that when your parents sent you up from Cambridge--celebrated for its university and its sausages--it was in order to cure you of your nonsensical notions of finery and grandeur. (_on L._)

PHOEBE. No such thing!

JONATH. No such thing! when you were actually trying to entrap the affections of a young man, considerably higher up the social ladder than yourself!

PHOEBE. What, Triptolemus Brown! he was only assistant to a chemist and druggist, after all. Poor dear Trip, many's the cake of soap and box of hair pins he's given me. Mark my words, uncle Jonathan, I know he'll come up to London and find me out--I'm sure of it, and then----

BUNNY. (_without_) Jonathan!

JONATH. (_paying no attention_) And then--only let me catch him coming after you, and if I don't give him one for his nob---- (_flourishing his broom_)

_The little door, L. C., opens, and as BUNNY enters, JONATHAN'S broom falls on his hat, and bonnets him._

BUNNY. (_shouting_) Help! murder!

JONATH. (_raising up BUNNY'S hat_) Mr. Bunny!

BUNNY. Jonathan! How is it, sir, that I find myself obliged to scramble up in the dark to the top of my own house--to the very attics, after my own servant? and when I find my own servant, my own servant breaks my own broom handle over my own head?

PHOEBE. It's my fault, Mr. Bunny; I asked uncle, as a particular favour, to come up here.

BUNNY. But I presume you didn't ask uncle, as a particular favour, to demolish my new hat! (_shewing his hat smashed_)

JONATH. Oh! if that's all, I can pay for it; about five and ninepence, I suppose. (_putting his hand into his breeches pocket_)

BUNNY. Jonathan, my ball opens at eight o'clock--it is now half-past six. Is it your intention, sir, to illuminate my drawing rooms, by lighting the gas, or must I perform that office myself.

JONATH. I'm going, sir.

PHOEBE. Oh, Mr. Bunny, if you would only let me have a peep at the fine ladies and gentlemen; besides, I might, perhaps, make myself useful.

BUNNY. Very true! I will therefore entrust you, Miss Phoebe, with the custody of the negus.

JONATH. (_aside_) Negus! a pint of South African Port to a gallon of water.

BUNNY. You, Jonathan, will respond to the double-knocks, and announce the respective guests as they enter the drawing room--thus, (_announcing_) Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain.

JONATH. (_imitating_) "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain." All right, sir. (_going_)

BUNNY. Stop; precede me with your lantern. (_JONATHAN goes rapidly out at door, C., and disappears_) Holloa, stop for me, sir! (_about to go out through door--turns to PHOEBE_) Remember, Miss Phoebe, I depend on you. (_he goes out, and immediately a noise is heard as of a person falling down stairs_)

PHOEBE. Ha, ha, ha! uncle little suspects that I've written to my dear Triptolemus at Cambridge! but I wasn't so imprudent as to tell him where I lived--no, no, I only sent him the address of our establishment in Cranbourne Alley, and----

VOICE. (_outside_) Phoebe, Phoebe!

PHOEBE. That's our third floor's voice. Is that you, Miss Arabella? Come in.

_ARABELLA HARDAPORT enters at door, L. C._

ARABELLA. I've got three orders for the theatre to-night, will you come? My cousin, Mr. Luke Sharp, has volunteered to escort us.

PHOEBE. (_aside_) Another cousin! that makes the thirty-seventh that _I_ know of. (_aloud_) Much obliged, but I'm engaged--I'm going to Mr. Bunny's ball.

ARABEL. Well, if you won't come with us, I'll say good-bye--Oh, stop! do step down a minute, there's a good girl, and tell me if my new pork pie suits me.

PHOEBE. Pork pie?

ARABEL. Yes--my hat; it's a present from Cousin Benjamin.

PHOEBE. (_aside_) Thirty-eight!

ARABEL. Do oblige me, there's a dear. And, Phoebe----

PHOEBE. Well!

ARABEL. I _am_ so puzzled which gown to put on; I know I look best in my peach blossom silk that cousin George gave me; and yet I ought to wear my light blue satin, for cousin Frederick's sake.

PHOEBE. (_aside_) Forty! (_aloud_) Well, I'll step down with you; but I can't stop long.

_They both go out at L. C._

_Here TRIPTOLEMUS BROWN is seen to get out of one of the chimney pots, and then to clamber in at the window in a very excited and exhausted state--his dress, face and hands, covered with patches of soot--he is without his hat._

TRIPT. Wheugh! I've done it! I don't know how, but done it I have. Talk of exploring the interior of Africa! pooh! that's a joke to the inside of a chimney! (_wiping his face with his handkerchief--shaking his coat, &c._) Well, if this is the hospitality that the Metropolis offers to a youthful and inoffensive chemist and druggist, I shan't avail myself of it again in a hurry. I left Cambridge for London this morning, in consequence of a telegraphic message I received from my uncle, Cockletop, grocer and cheesemonger--to catch the train, I lost my breakfast; the only available refreshment was a cigar and box of lozenges; under the influence of these exhilirating sweetmeats, I soon found myself at the abode of my aforesaid uncle Cockletop, who, on my taking a chair on a Cheshire cheese, at once informed me that his motive in telegraphing for me, was to unite me in the bonds of wedlock with a certain Miss Caroline Bunny; his words literally transfixed me to my chair--my cheese I mean. I was about to tell him that the object of my unalterable affection was Phoebe Furbelow, when he cut me short by directing me to betake myself and carpet bag to No. 17, Compton-street, Soho--there it is-- (_pointing out of the window_) where he had secured me a small but airy back room, immediately under the tiles; telling me to make myself as smart as possible, in order that he might take me with him to a ball, which, it seems, the father of my _intended intended_ is to give this evening. I promised implicit obedience, and proved it, by starting off in the opposite direction for Cranbourne-alley, where Phoebe told me she pursued the art of bonnet-making. I found the shop, and was endeavouring to catch a glimpse of her beloved profile, when I suddenly received a terrific blow--from a foot--behind--which almost sent me head-first through the shop window. I turned round and found myself face to face with a ferocious looking individual, almost as tall as the lamp-post, and considerably stouter. (_mechanically wiping his face with the linen he takes out of the clothes basket, and blackening it_) Well, my first impulse was to come Tom Sayers over him, but it suddenly occurred to me that the brawny ruffian before me might be a husband and a father, I therefore spared him, and walked slowly away--as fast as my legs could carry me! but he overtook me at the door of my lodgings. How I got up three flights of stairs, I don't know; but I'd no sooner precipitated myself into my attic, and bolted the door, then a voice demanded instant admission. Instinctively I seized the poker, the poker reminded me of the fireplace, the fireplace of the chimney--away I flew--up the flue, and I was saved! (_wiping his face again with the clean linen, and blackening it_) I wonder if the bulky miscreant is still there? (_looking out at window_) I do declare he's actually lighted the fire! I see the smoke coming out of the chimney! Ecod! then I'm well out of it! Goodness gracious! (_wipes his face with the clean linen_) what can I have done to this sanguinary vampire? The only thing I can think of, is that he may have been poorly at Cambridge, and that I may have sent him pills that made him poorlier!

PHOEBE. (_without_) Now, uncle, I never can carry down that large basket of clothes by myself--do come and help me! (_comes in at little door, L. C._)

TRIPTOLE. That voice!

PHOEBE. (_stumbling over the linen which TRIPTOLEMUS has thrown about stage_) Heyday! who can have been tumbling all the nice clean linen about? One of those horrid cats, I'll be bound!

TRIPTOLE. (_imitating the mewing of a cat_) Miow, miow!

PHOEBE. There he is. (_turning and seeing TRIPTOLEMUS_) No--mercy on us! it isn't a cat--it's a man! Help! thieves! police, police! (_screaming_)

TRIPTOLE. Hush! don't make a noise! Phoebe, don't you know me? I'm Triptolemus--your own Triptolemus, just arrived from Cambridge to see you, by the flue--I mean the train.

PHOEBE. Triptolemus! how did you get here?

TRIPTOLE. I'll tell you another time. Phoebe, if you love me, tell me the address of the nearest magistrate, or show me his chimney pot, that'll do as well.

PHOEBE. What do you mean?

TRIPTOLE. That my life is in jeopardy--that I'm in danger of being torn to pieces, or swallowed whole--one or the other, perhaps both, if you don't save me.--Ah, a door! (_about to run to small door, L. C._)

PHOEBE. No, no! you'll be sure to meet uncle Jonathan, and he has sworn to murder you if he catches you here.

TRIPTOLE. Goodness gracious! I've only spoken to three of the male population of London since I've been in it, and two of them seem bent on my immediate destruction!

PHOEBE. (_running to door_) Ah! uncle has heard my cries for help, and he's coming up; and I declare he's got a policeman with him!--hide, hide yourself!

TRIPTOLE. Where--where? here's a clothes basket, but it isn't big enough.

JONATH. (_without_) This way, policeman.

(_noise of steps up staircase heard--TRIPTOLEMUS dreadfully frightened begins getting out of window_)

PHOEBE. Mind what you're about! you'll slip off the slanting roof and be smashed to bits! (_by this time TRIPTOLEMUS has got out of the window_) Where are you going?

TRIPTOLE. I don't know. (_begins getting into the other chimney pot_)

PHOEBE. (_looking out after him_) Mercy on me! what is he about? he's getting legs first into a chimney pot! Stop, stop, you'll drop into our third floor!

TRIPTOLE. (_without_) I don't care! (_disappears--then suddenly shouting_) Holloa! I'm stuck fast!--help!

_At this moment JONATHAN runs on at door, L. C., followed by a POLICEMAN--PHOEBE hastily draws curtain before the window_--(_this will give time to strike the slanting roof_)

JONATH. Now, then, what's the matter?

PHOEBE. (_pretending to be very busy picking up the linen_) Only the wind been and blown the linen about--that's all, uncle.

POLICEMAN. Ugh! Well, as I don't suppose you mean to give the wind in charge, and as I don't see how I could take it into custody if you did, I shall be off.

_Exit at door, L. C._

JONATH. Come along, Phoebe, come along, I say.

PHOEBE. (_looking anxiously towards window_) Yes, but let me finish picking up the clothes first.

JONATH. I'll help you--there. (_they put linen into basket_) And now come along. (_takes hold of one end of the basket and PHOEBE of the other_)

PHOEBE. (_aside_) Poor dear Triptolemus! what will become of him?

JONATH. Now, come along, will you?

_Exit with PHOEBE, door L. C._

SCENE SECOND.--_Third Floor--A small comfortably furnished Apartment--table and chairs. On the table are implements of the bonnet making business, work, &c., &c.--door, L. 3 E.--another door, R. 2 E.--at R. C., a fireplace, practicable--at L. C., a window--candles on table. Loud rapping heard from without at door, L. 3 E._

ARABEL. (_from door R. 2 E._) I'm coming!

(_she enters in a fashionable evening dress, very much exaggerated, which she is in the act of fastening behind--knocking repeated_)

ARABEL. Don't be in such a hurry; I can't let anybody in till I've hook-and-eyed myself. (_going to door L._) Who's there?

PHOEBE. (_without_) It's only I--Phoebe.

ARABEL. (_opening door, L. 3 E.--PHOEBE enters hurriedly_) How you frightened me, to be sure! But--(_seeing PHOEBE who is fidgetting, and looking anxiously towards the fireplace_) What's the matter, Phoebe?

PHOEBE. No-thing; you haven't heard anything drop, have you? I mean----

ARABELLA. Drop? not I! What do you mean?

PHOEBE. Why--I---- (_aside_) Then he's still sticking in the chimney? Poor, dear Trip! he must be a regular nigger by this time!

ARABELLA. Well, I must go and finish dressing!

(_goes out again, at door, R. 2 E.--PHOEBE watches her anxiously out, then runs to fireplace, and calls up the chimney_)

PHOEBE. Triptolemus! Triptolemus! are you still there?

TRIPTOLE. (_from chimney_) Yes! Whoever takes this house will have to take me as one of the fixtures.

PHOEBE. There's nobody here. You can come down! Make haste-- (_impatiently_) make haste! (_here one or both of TRIPTOLEMUS'S legs appear hanging down, and swaying about, as if trying to find a resting place, at the same moment, a knocking is heard at the door, L. 3 E.--alarmed_) There's somebody coming! You must get up again--make haste!

TRIPTOLE. Oh, bother! (_kicking his legs violently about--knocks down the fire irons, which are standing on each side of the fire place--the legs are then suddenly drawn up, and disappear_)

_ARABELLA enters suddenly, R. 2 E., sideways as before._

ARABEL. What a dreadful noise! (_she has her pork-pie hat on, and carries her shawl over her arm--here the knocking is repeated louder_) Ah! there he is, at last! (_calling_) Come in, Mr. Sharp, come in.

_Enter LUKE SHARP, L. 3 E.--he is dressed in a black dress coat, nankeen trousers, very short, white stockings, and shoes, a white waistcoat, and white cravat, with large full bows--his hair very shortly cut, or else very elaborately frizzed._

ARABEL. (_reproachfully_) At last, Mr. Sharp! Well, sir, I must say you haven't hurried yourself.

PHOEBE. Never mind. Now the sooner you start, the sooner you'll be at the theatre. (_aside_) And the sooner poor dear Trip will be liberated. (_hurrying ARABELLA on with her shawl_) There, now you're ready.

ARABEL. Yes, now I'm ready.

(_LUKE who has been looking on in a very dejected manner, utters a deep sigh, then goes up to ARABELLA, takes her shawl, and places it on a chair, then uttering another deep sigh is about to take off ARABELLA'S hat_)

Goodness me, Mr. Sharp, what are you doing?

SHARP. (_in a sepulchral tone_) My _dooty_--my melancholy _dooty,_ Miss Arabella. In a word, the theatre is no go--the orders is wasted, and we are disap_point_ed in our hopes.

ARABEL. What! after the trouble of this elaborate toilette! No, I will not be disap_point_ed, as you call it!

PHOEBE. (_aside to her_) That's right.

ARABEL. I _will_ go!

PHOEBE. (_aside to her_) Stick to that.

SHARP. Impossible! inclination points one way--dooty another.

ARABEL. (_very impatiently_) Explain yourself, sir!

(_here TRIPTOLEMUS'S legs again appear, swaying about--kick the fire irons down again, and then are suddenly drawn up_)

What can be the matter with the fire irons? Again, Mr. Sharp, are you going to explain?

SHARP. I am; the particulars is this ways: my employer, Mr. Cheesecake, has got the purviding of the eatables for Mr. Bunny's supper this evening; and being, as you know, of a asthmatic constitution, _I_ am obligated to do _dooty_ for him.

(_here TRIPTOLEMUS'S legs again appear dangling down, they kick about violently, and one of his shoes is kicked off and falls on the stage, PHOEBE hastily picks it up and pockets it_)

ARABEL. What's that?

PHOEBE. No-thing.

ARABEL. (_taking off her hat_) Well, I suppose it can't be helped.

SHARP. And now, Miss Arabella, I've an agreeable surprise for you. The particklers is this ways--my govenor, Mr. Cheesecake, is about to retire himself into the bosom of private life; and then, Miss Arabella, I step into the business, and _you_ walk into the Bath buns, apple tarts, ices, acidulated drops, and kisses! (_tenderly_)

ARABEL. I'm sure I feel highly flattered, Mr. Sharp; but I cannot dispose of my hand without the consent of my family.

SHARP. Family! I understood you were a horphan.

ARABEL. So I am; when I say my family, I allude to my gallant brother, Captain Hardaport, who is now actively engaged in his country's service.

SHARP. Where?

ARABEL. On the coast of Devonshire, in the herring fishery. (_here the legs appear, as before, kicking violently, and trying to find a resting place_)

SHARP. And now Miss Arabella, I've another agreeable surprise for you.

ARABEL. What?

SHARP. I've _a_ppropriated a pie--_w_eal and _h_am, which is now in a '_a_mper _o_utside, along with all the ingredients for a bowl of punch, except the hot water.

ARABEL. Oh, I can soon manage that, by lighting the fire.

PHOEBE. (_starting--aside_) Oh, lud! Poor Trip will be roasted alive! (_aloud and very quickly_) You needn't light the fire; I'll run for some hot water, and be back immediately. Don't light the fire on any account.

_Hastily runs out L. door._

ARABEL. The water ought to be quite hot--oughtn't it, Mr. Sharp?

SHARP. Biling!

ARABEL. Then perhaps you'll put a light to the fire; it's all ready laid. Where have I put the lucifer matches? (_looking on the table, and tossing the things about_) Perhaps they're in my bed room.

_Goes out at R. 2 E._

SHARP. (_finding the box of matches on the table_) Here they are, Miss Arabella! (_goes to fireplace, kneels down, strikes a light, and applies it--the fire suddenly lights--immediately a loud shouting, &c., heard from chimney, and TRIPTOLEMUS comes down with a run into the grate_) Help! thieves! murder! (_roaring with fright, and rushing wildly off at L. 3 E._)

_At the same moment, ARABELLA runs in alarmed from R. 2 E._

ARABEL. Mercy on me! what is the matter?

(_TRIPTOLEMUS scrambles out of the grate, staggers forward, and falls helplessly on a chair, which is covered with white or light coloured chintz--ARABELLA runs behind the table, exclaiming "Ah!"--TRIPTOLEMUS'S face and hands are still blackened, and his coat is ripped up to the collar behind_)

Who are you?--why don't you speak? Who let you up here, sir?

TRIPTOLE. (_in a plaintive tone_) Nobody let me up; I let myself down.

ARABEL. What do you want, sir?

TRIPTOLE. A basin of water, a cake of soap, and a clean towel. (_rising, and approaching her--the chair appears all blackened_)

ARABEL. Leave this room this moment.

TRIPTOLE. (_aside_) With a sanguinary vampire and an infuriated uncle ready to pounce upon me; not if I know it. (_aside_) Leave this room--and this room _a_ room with _you_ in it. (_aside_) I'll flatter her a bit. (_aloud_) You--you that for three long years I have enshrined in the very innermost interstices of this heart! Leave you--you!--pooh, pooh!

ARABEL. Your face is not familiar to me!

TRIPTOLE. How can you possibly tell till I've washed it?

ARABEL. Once more, young man, I beg you'll beat a retreat.

TRIPTOLE. (_pretending great emotion_) It's too much--it's too much! (_feeling for his handkerchief in both his coat pockets, one after the other_) Allow me. (_taking ARABELLA'S handkerchief out of her hand--wipes his eyes, and then his face with it, and returns it, all smudged with black, to ARABELLA_) Thank you!

ARABEL. Sir, when I tell you that I am every moment expecting an arrival----

TRIPTOLE. A rival?

ARABEL. An arrival.

TRIPTOLE. Ann who?

ARABEL. Pshaw!

TRIPTOLE. I don't know her.

CAPT. H. (_without, in a loud voice_) Don't tell me! I know she's aloft; so clear the gangway, you lubber!

TRIPTOLE. } } (_together_) That voice! ARABEL. }

TRIPTOLE. It's he! my vampire! my brawny ruffian!

ARABEL. My brother! and I, who thought he was catching herrings!

TRIPTOLE. Not he; he was trying to catch _me_!

CAPT. H. (_outside_) Now, Arabella, my girl, shew us a light, will you?

(_the handle of the door is heard to turn, and as the door slightly opens, TRIPTOLEMUS precipitates himself against it, shuts it, and draws the bolt_)

ARABEL. What's to be done? if he comes in, you're a dead man!

TRIPTOLE. And if I go out, I'm _another_ dead man!

(_here the door is violently shaken_)

CAPTAIN HARDAPORT. (_in a thundering voice_) Now then, look alive!

TRIPTOLE. (_in a loud whisper to ARABELLA_) Say you're ill in bed--with the measles--or the nettle rash.

CAPT. H. (_with another bang at the door_) I can't stop here all day, shiver my timbers if I can--so open the door.

TRIPTOLE. Don't!--let him shiver his timbers. You can form but a faint idea of the exquisite delight I should feel at his shivering his timbers.

CAPT. H. (_without_) You won't let me in. Then here goes!