Part 2

(_a tremendous shaking and knocking at the door--TRIPTOLEMUS, in an agony of fear, rushes to the window, throws it open, puts out one leg, then looks down, and hurriedly draws it back again--here other and more violent blows against the door, which is burst open at the very moment that TRIPTOLEMUS rushes frantically into ARABELLA'S room, at R. 2 E.--CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, in a rough pea jacket, tarpaulin coat, and the other peculiarities of a sailor's costume, comes in, looks about the room, then walks up to ARABELLA, looks her full in the face, then looks again about the room--ARABELLA, who has thrown herself on her chair, has snatched up some worsted work, and pretends to be very busy over it_)

CAPT. H. You were talking to somebody.

ARABEL. (_looking up from her work, and pretending great unconcern_) Did you speak?

CAPT. H. Yes; I said you were talking to somebody.

ARABEL. I was.

CAPT. H. Who?

ARABEL. Myself; 'tis a habit I've got when I'm alone and want a little conversation.

CAPT. H. Umph! it sounded to _me_ like a man's voice. (_with intention, and looking intently at her_) Umph! (_suspiciously_) Now listen to me, sister Bella. (_taking a chair and sitting down_) You must know---- (_here a noise is heard in room, R. 2 E._) What's that?

ARABEL. (_striving to conceal her alarm_) What?

CAPT. H. That noise.

ARABEL. Where?

CAPT. H. (_looking suspiciously at ARABELLA, and then pointing to room, R. 2 E._) There.

ARABEL. (_quickly_) Oh! it's only Mrs. Sheepshanks, the charwoman, putting my room to rights; she always comes on Mondays.

CAPT. H. This is _Friday!_

ARABEL. Mondays and Fridays. (_aside_) I'm more dead than alive!

CAPT. H. Well, as I was going to say--about two months ago I put into Plymouth with my first cargo of herrings, and there I got into company with an old gentleman with a bald head, green spectacles, and an only daughter--the smartest-looking craft I ever clapped eyes on! Well, finding I couldn't forget her, I determined to follow her to London, got here this morning, called on the old gentleman, made an offer of my hand and my herrings, when, muskets and marlinspikes, what d'ye think he told me? That the young woman I was sweet upon was already engaged to be spliced to some loblolly lubber or other at Cambridge, that she'd never even clapped her precious eyes on!

ARABEL. Rather unfortunate, I must confess.

CAPT. H. Yes, especially as, in my opinion, it's all owing to _you_ that I've been cut adrift!

ARABEL. To _me?_

CAPT. H. Yes, they must have found out that I, Captain Bellerophon Hardaport, had got a sister in the fancy chip and straw bonnet line, who isn't _quite_ so particular as to the number of her admirers as she might be.

ARABEL. That's my business.

CAPT. H. Never mind; now I _am_ here, I'll soon clear the decks of the whole crew of 'em. I began with an impertinent young jackanapes just now, that I found squinting at you through your shop window, in Cranbourne-alley. I haven't done with that fellow yet; I know the cut of his jib, and if I ever do come alongside of him again, if I don't blow him clean out of the water, at the first broadside, my name ain't Hardaport.

ARABEL. You may blow him wherever you may think proper. I know nothing of the young man.

CAPT. H. (_satirically_) Of course not! (_here a loud noise as of furniture falling and smashing of glass heard from room, R. 2 E.--looking at ARABELLA, who starts violently and looks alarmed_) Well, if Mrs. Longshanks, or Strongshanks, or whatever her name is, don't pay for what she breaks, you'll have the worst of the bargain all to nothing. I'll have the old woman out! (_making a movement towards door_)

ARABEL. (_trying to stop him_) No, no!

CAPT. H. I tell you I will!

(_the CAPTAIN breaks from her, runs into room, and immediately returns, dragging on TRIPTOLEMUS, who is dressed in one of ARABELLA'S gowns, with shawl and bonnet, and veil drawn over his face_)

TRIPTOLE. (_assuming a woman's voice, and turning his head away_) I'm a married woman, sir, with a husband, sir, and ten children.

CAPT. H. Hold your stupid old tongue, do! and let me have a look at your figure head. (_trying to pull him round_)

TRIPTOLE. Is this the way you treat a poor lone widow with fourteen children?

CAPT. H. Fourteen! just now you said ten! In a word, old lady----

TRIPTOLE. Good morning! (_making for door_)

CAPT. H. Pshaw! (_pulling him back_)

_Enter PHOEBE, hurriedly._

PHOEBE. (_to ARABELLA_) Here's your charwoman, Mrs. Sheepshanks, wants to know if she can come up? (_not noticing ARABELLA, who, by signs, tells her to hold her tongue_)

CAPT. H. What's that?--two Mrs. Longshanks! (_pulling back TRIPTOLEMUS, who makes a sudden rush towards door_) Then who the devil are you? (_tears off his bonnet veil, discovering TRIPTOLEMUS, who has washed his face, and is now as pale as a sheet_) Ah! (_in a voice of thunder--TRIPTOLEMUS staggers, and falls into his arms_)

PHOEBE. Triptolemus!

CAPT. H. My young jackanapes again, and sailing under false colours.

_TRIPTOLEMUS here makes a sudden bolt, but is stopped by the CAPTAIN--in the struggle, TRIPTOLEMUS slips out of his gown, which remains in CAPTAIN'S hands, and leaves TRIPTOLEMUS in his trousers and waistcoat, with a very ample crinoline over them--he then makes a rush to the door, meeting LUKE SHARP as he enters, carrying a tray, on which are a pie, plates, and glasses, upsets him and the contents of the tray--the CAPTAIN again seizes TRIPTOLEMUS, who retreats backwards struggling with the CAPTAIN, when close to the window, TRIPTOLEMUS loses his balance, and falls backwards through the window, with great smash of glass--ARABELLA and PHOEBE each scream with all their might, and fall into different chairs--LUKE SHARP shouts "Police," &c., &c.--the scene is shut in with a pair of flats representing_

SCENE THIRD.--_A Landing Place on Second Floor. Door at C.; landing place window at R._

_PHOEBE runs in, L. door in flat, with candle, throws open the window, and looks downwards._

PHOEBE. I don't see anything of him.--Why, what's that huddled up in a lump in the corner of the balcony?--it's he! (_calling_) Hist, hist, Triptolemus! are you dead or alive?

TRIPTOLE. (_outside, in a plaintive voice_) I won't be positive; I think I'm rather more alive of the two.

PHOEBE. Very well then, Mr. Triptolemus Brown, perhaps you'll condescend to explain why you thought proper to dress yourself up in Miss Arabella Hardaport's clothes.

TRIPTOLE. I'll explain everything, if you'll only help me out of this infernal balcony; I don't care how--a ladder, a fire escape, a balloon, a pair of stilts--anything! or call a cab, and I'll jump into it through the roof.

PHOEBE. Nonsense! you'd better stop where you are.--Hark! some one's corning; lie down again and don't move!

_LUKE SHARP, his hair dishevelled, his cravat awry, and with TRIPTOLEMUS'S hat and coat in his hand, enters hurriedly, followed by ARABELLA, L. door in flat._

ARABEL. Don't make a disturbance, Mr. Sharp, and I'll explain everything.

SHARP. Then begin with these here articles of male attire--this coat, this hat--how did they come for to be in your apartment? they can't be your aunt's, and you ain't got a uncle! then whose is 'em?--why don't you answer--whose is 'em?

ARABEL. I shall not condescend to answer you, sir.

SHARP. You won't! then nothing remains for me but to precipitate myself _h_eadlong into the _a_rea below! (_rushing to window_)

ARABEL. (_pulling him back_) Don't be a fool!

PHOEBE. (_ditto_) Don't be ridiculous!

SHARP. (_looking down, and seeing TRIPTOLEMUS on the balcony_) What's that?--a _i_ndividual without a coat and hat--it's he! (_shouting down to TRIPTOLEMUS_) Holloa, you sir, below! I'm only sorry that I'm _u_p _h_ere, and you're down there!

TRIPTOLE. (_without_) Are you? we'll change, if you like; you come down here, and I'll go up there--ha, ha!

SHARP. (_in a fury, rolls TRIPTOLEMUS'S coat up in a lump and flings it down to him_) Take that!

TRIPTOLE. (_without_) Thank you.

SHARP. (_still more furious_) And that! (_crushing the hat, and flinging it at TRIPTOLEMUS_)

TRIPTOLE. (_without_) Thank you again. Anything more?

SHARP. (_furiously_) You want something more, eh? Then you shall have it.

_Runs out at L. side._

ARABEL. What is the man about? (_following SHARP, L._)

PHOEBE. There'll be murder to a certainty. Help--help!--police!

_Runs out after ARABELLA, L._

_CAROLINE enters from door L. flat, in ball dress._

CARO. Mercy on me! what can be the matter?

_Enter CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, at the side, hurriedly, R._

CAPT. H. (_advancing towards CAROLINE_) Beg pardon, miss, but if I can be of any service----

CARO. (_who has started, and turned round towards the CAPTAIN_) Captain Hardaport!

CAPT. H. Beg pardon, I'm sure, miss; but hearing you, as I thought, holding out signals of distress----

CARO. No such thing! Me!--oh, dear, no; no such thing.

CAPT. H. Well, miss, I've a little matter to overhaul with you. Ever since I saw you at Plymouth, I've been thinking that you are just the sort of craft that I should like to sail in company with.

CARO. (_modestly_) Oh, Captain!

CAPT. H. Yes, miss; so I bore up for London, and the first thing I hear is that you're going to be spliced to some other lubber from Cambridge.

CARO. Really, sir, I know very little about the matter; everything has been arranged by my pa and Mr. Cockletop.

CAPT. H. Who's Cocklepot?

CARO. (_modestly_) He is the uncle of--the young man.

CAPT. H. And you love him?

CARO. I've never seen him yet.

CAPT. H. Then perhaps you wouldn't break your heart if I was to send him to Davy Jones? (_savagely_)

CARO. Not I, indeed!

CAPT. H. That's enough. (_taking her hand, and kissing it repeatedly_)

CARO. Papa gives a ball this evening--I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you.

CAPT. H. And you?

CARO. Oh, _I'm_ always happy when _papa_ is.

BUNNY. (_heard within the apartment_) Now then, Caroline--how much longer are you going to be?

CARO. Papa's voice!

_Enter BUNNY, at door L. flat, in evening costume, very elaborated, and exaggerated._

BUNNY. (_before entering_) Not in her room? (_enters_) Oh! here you are, and dressed at last! and high time too, considering that our guests have all arrived--except Cockletop, and Cockletop's nephew, from Cambridge--and what makes Cockletop, and Cockletop's nephew from Cambridge, so late, I can't imagine. (_seeing CAPTAIN_) Eh? Yes! Captain Hardaport, I declare, that we had the pleasure of meeting, three months ago at Plymouth! this is an unexpected pleasure--isn't it, Carry?

CARO. Yes, papa.

_Enter ARABELLA and PHOEBE, at side, L._

ARABEL. (_aside_) I can't see anything of Mr. Sharp in the street

BUNNY. Perhaps you and your charming sister, Miss Arabella, will join our little party below?

CAPT. H. } } Delighted! I'm sure! ARABEL. }

BUNNY. That's right! Miss Phoebe, as you have undertaken the refreshment department, I presume, I need not remind you that the cakes are totally incapable of handing themselves about; neither can the negus ladle itself out.

PHOEBE. (_aside_) I must speak to poor Triptolemus. (_aloud_) I'll just shut the window first.

BUNNY. Nonsense! I'll do that. (_rain_) Holloa! it's pouring with rain. (_closes the shutters and bolts them_) There! Now then! (_he offers his arm to ARABELLA--the CAPTAIN gives his to CAROLINE--exeunt--PHOEBE following, and still looking anxiously at the window as she goes out_)

PHOEBE. Oh! how I should enjoy myself, if I wasn't so uneasy about my poor, dear Triptolemus! (_rain heard_) Oh, dear! oh, dear! he'll be _drownded!_ I'm sure he will.

(_Exit door in flat--scene draws and discovers_)

SCENE FOURTH.--_Drawing Rooms; loud double knocks, bells, &c., as scene opens; an apartment, with large folding doors in C., thrown open, and shewing a corridor beyond, lighted with a candelabra or two attached to the wall, and supposed to lead to the ball room at R.; the apartment itself consists of a high window, with hanging curtains at R. 2 E.; before and close to the window is a table, covered with pastry, cakes, decanters, wine glasses, &c.; at L. are two small doors close to each other; chairs, sofas, &c.; a card table in centre of stage; two other card tables near wings, R. and L._

_At rising of curtain, CAROLINE is seen in the corridor at back, receiving the GUESTS, who pass across towards C.; she accompanies them; JONATHAN is standing before the sideboard, loading a large tray with cakes and glasses of negus; he is dressed in an old-fashioned long-tailed brown coat, a pair of blue plush breeches, white stockings, and ankle boots, very high shirt collars above his ears; as he fills the tray, he occasionally eats a cake and drinks a glass of negus--Enter BUNNY (with a light flaxen wig) at C., followed by PHOEBE, carrying cloaks, shawls, hats, &c., &c._

BUNNY. Now, Phoebe, take those articles of apparel into my study--make haste. (_PHOEBE goes to one of the two small doors at back, L._) Not there; don't you know that little door leads to the back staircase?

PHOEBE. Yes, sir, I forgot--I-- (_aside_) I don't know what I'm about! (_enters at door, L._)

BUNNY. (_turning and seeing JONATHAN_) What's that? (_using his eye glass and looking JONATHAN from head to foot_) Jonathan, step this way, if you please, sir. (_JONATHAN advances, carrying the loaded tray--turns JONATHAN'S shirt collars down_) Now go into the ball room, and present the tray to each lady, at the end of the polka.

JONATH. Present the tray at the end of a poker.

BUNNY. Polka! In this way. (_taking the tray, and presenting it in a graceful attitude_)

JONATH. Well, I don't mind if I do. (_taking a glass of negus, and drinking it off_)

BUNNY. What the devil are you at? Now go along; (_giving JONATHAN the tray_) and mind what you're about, or else I shall be under the painful necessity of discharging you from my establishment.

_Exit JONATHAN, C. towards R._

_At the same moment, COCKLETOP enters at C. from L. carrying his hat and black paletot over his arm--he is in evening costume, but very red in the face, and looks slightly tipsy, he has a red worsted comforter hanging loose round his neck, which he takes off as he enters, and throws over his paletot._

BUNNY. (_L., seeing him_) Ah, Cockletop! better late than never! Well, where's "our dear nephew?" our young Adonis from Cambridge, eh?

COCKLE. (_R., very loud_) Hush! (_then swaying about, and smiling stupidly at BUNNY_)

BUNNY. Why, what's the matter?

COCKLE. Hush! (_same play repeated_)

BUNNY. I ask you again, where is "our dear----?"

COCKLE. Hush! (_same play repeated, then making two or three attempts to seize BUNNY'S hand, and missing it_)

BUNNY. (_aside_) He's been at the negus.

COCKLE. I love you, Bunny--dearly, Bunny! do I love you, Bunny? (_looking pathetic, then smiling stupidly as before, and making another failure in seizing BUNNY'S hand_)

BUNNY. Once for all, Cockletop, if you don't instantly explain, I'll have you put to bed! Where is your nephew, Mr. Triptolemus Brown?

COCKLE. (_smiling stupidly_) I don't know.

BUNNY. Haven't you seen him?

COCKLE. Distinctly, about an hour ago, running up Compton Street like a madman towards his lodging. I ran after him, shouting all the time--followed him into the house, then up three flights of stairs--found the door slammed in my face--burst it open--rushed into the room--empty!--nothing in it!

BUNNY. Pshaw! it must have been somebody else you saw.

COCKLE. I came to that conclusion myself; so I determined to wait; ordered a fire, and a bottle of Sherry; fell asleep--woke again--ordered another----

BUNNY. Another fire?

COCKLE. Another bottle of Sherry.

BUNNY. No wonder you're so red in the face. Well?

COCKLE. At last, I remembered telling him to buy himself a pair of white kid gloves--so off I set to all the hosier's shops in the neighbourhood, bought a pair of gloves at each--sixteen of them; here they are; (_tapping the pocket of his paletot_) but all in vain! (_turns up to C. door--polka heard off at back_)

BUNNY. Nonsense! Find him you must! (_here PHOEBE re-enters at little front door, L._) or else the marriage of Caroline Bunny, spinster, and Triptolemus Brown, bachelor, cannot take place!

COCKLE. (_suddenly, and looking of at C. towards L._) Ah! I think I see him in the ball room--look there--dancing the polka! Here, young woman. (_giving hat and paletot to PHOEBE--PHOEBE goes into small room, L. with things_)

COCKLE. Come along, Bunny, come along! (_puts his arm within BUNNY'S and drags him off, C. towards R._)

_Here one of the window curtains is drawn aside, and TRIPTOLEMUS peeps in._

TRIPTOLE. The coast seems clear! (_looks cautiously round, and then comes forward--he has his pocket handkerchief tied round his head, his coat still ripped up to the collar, looks quite wet through, and the picture of wretchedness_) I shan't forget my visit to the metropolis of civilized England in a hurry. (_seeing the sideboard_) What's that? something in the refreshment line! I'm not addicted to picking and stealing, but a man can't be expected to go all day long, on half an ounce of lozenges! (_goes to the sideboard and begins helping himself, drinking the negus out of the decanters_)

_Enter PHOEBE at L._

PHOEBE. (_seeing TRIPTOLEMUS_) Ah! somebody helping himself to the negus! Holloa, sir!

TRIPTOLE. (_turning round, his mouth stuffed full of cakes and each hand crammed with them--seeing PHOEBE_) What's the matter? Ah, Phoebe!

PHOEBE. Trip! Dear--dear, how wet you look!

TRIPTOLE. Do you expect a man to stand under a waterspout and not get wet? Look there. (_squeezing a quantity of water out of his coat tail_)

PHOEBE. I don't wish to alarm you, but that dreadful captain, who threw you out of the window----

TRIPTOLE. Well?

PHOEBE. He's here!

TRIPTOLE. (_jumping round frightened_) Where?

PHOEBE. There, in the ball room. Just now I heard him grinding his teeth, and muttering to himself, "This ball is given in honour of him, is it? then he shall have balls enough, for I'll give him a brace through his body." So make your escape at once.

TRIPTOLE. How? no more chimneys--no more windows! I should prefer a staircase this time, just for the novelty of the thing.

PHOEBE. You'll find one there. (_pointing to one of the small doors at L._) Make haste!

TRIPTOLE. Wait a minute. (_runs to the sideboard, and takes a decanter in one hand, and a plate of cakes in the other_)

PHOEBE. (_looking off at C._) Here's some one coming. (_quadrille music heard at back R., and continued through this_)

_TRIPTOLEMUS runs to L., and mistaking the door, enters that leading to the study--this is unseen by PHOEBE._

_Enter BUNNY at C._

BUNNY. Phoebe!

PHOEBE. Yes, sir. (_looking round and not seeing TRIPTOLEMUS_) It's all right--he's gone!

BUNNY. Run over to Mr. Cheesecake's, and enquire why that confounded waiter he promised to send hasn't made his appearance yet.

PHOEBE. Yes, sir. (_aside_) And at the same time, I'll see poor dear Triptolemus safe off the premises!

_Runs out at little door, L. back._

TRIPTOLE. (_peeping out at little door_) Deuce a bit of a staircase can I see. (_seeing BUNNY_) Holloa! (_quietly closing the door again_)

BUNNY. Ah! here's Cockletop again! (_seeing COCKLETOP, who comes in at C. from L._) Well? (_going to him_) Any news of your nephew?

COCKLE. (_still very red in the face, and making another ineffectual grasp at BUNNY'S hand_) I've been round to his lodgings again--had another fire lighted, and another bottle of Sherry--no news. Suppose we say the poor boy is ill in bed?

BUNNY. (L.) Better say he's dead!--that'll settle the matter at once!

COCKLE. (_suddenly, and looking off at C._) Ah! I think I see him!--look, there!--come along!

(_seizes BUNNY by the arm, drags him up the stage, and off at C. towards R., BUNNY struggling violently--TRIPTOLEMUS quietly opens the door, peeps in, then comes cautiously out--he is dressed in COCKLETOP'S black paletot, and has got on a light flaxen wig, exactly like the one that BUNNY wears_)

TRIPTOLE. I don't know whose garment this is that I've got into, but from the extensive assortment of gloves in the pockets, I should say he must be a hosier on a large scale. (_pulling out a handful of gloves from each pocket of the paletot, of various colours_) Now then for another attempt to escape.

(_he makes his way towards C., and is just going to sneak out--finds himself face to face with CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, who enters L. C.--TRIPTOLEMUS utters a sort of a scream, and staggers back, grasping the back of a chair to keep himself from falling_)

CAPT. H. Holloa, messmate, ain't you well?

TRIPTOLE. (_pulling his wig over his face, and in a faltering voice, R._) N-ot particularly.

CAPT. H. (L.) The heat of the room, I suppose? Been dancing and skipping about, eh?

TRIPTOLE. (_faintly, and wiping his face with a handful of gloves, which he takes out of his pocket_) Yes; I've had a good deal of skipping about lately.

CAPT. H. (_looking cautiously about--then mysteriously to TRIPTOLEMUS, who, in order to appear collected is pulling on a pair of gloves of different colours_) Hark ye, messmate: you can do me a good turn! I'm looking out for a young chap here--a rival! (_in a voice of thunder--TRIPTOLEMUS gives a violent start_) whose brains, if he's got any, I mean to blow out--all fair and above board, of course! Now, what d'ye think I'd better do, to put his monkey up--pull his nose or kick him round the room?

_Enter BUNNY, COCKLETOP, CAROLINE, ARABELLA, and other GUESTS, C.--the music ceases--some of the GUESTS seat themselves at card tables and begin to play, others take refreshments, handed about by JONATHAN, R. and L._

TRIPTOLE. The monkey?

CAPT. H. Pshaw!--hush! (_TRIPTOLEMUS attempts to escape_)

COCKLE. (_in a maudlin pathetic tone to CAROLINE_) He's very poorly indeed, miss. (_TRIPTOLEMUS seems struck by the voice_)

CARO. (_with indifference_) Who, sir?

COCKLE. My nephew, Triptolemus.

TRIPTOLE. (_aside_) Uncle Cockletop! if he recognizes me, up goes the donkey--I mean the monkey! (_pulling his wig more over his eyes_)

COCKLE. (_to HARDAPORT_) Very hard, ain't it, sir, after coming up all the way from Cambridge on the wings of love.

TRIPTOLE. (_aside, in an agony_) There are circumstances under which a nephew ought to be allowed to strangle his uncle.

COCKLE. I repeat, very hard; ain't it, sir?

CAPT. H. (_sharply_) Very indeed!

COCKLE. Bless you! (_making an ineffectual attempt to grasp the CAPTAIN'S hand_) Bless you again!

BUNNY. (_to COCKLETOP_) Be quiet, do! Sit down and have a quiet game of cards--that gentleman will play with you, I'm sure! (_meaning TRIPTOLEMUS--pushes COCKLETOP into other chair of card table_)

COCKLE. (_shuffling the cards and addressing TRIPTOLEMUS, who pulls his wig still more over his eyes_) What shall we play at, sir?

TRIPTOLE. (_bewildered_) Sir! (_finding a red worsted comforter in the paletot wipes his face with it_)

COCKLE. What say you to picquet? I'm rather partial to casino!

TRIPTOLE. Well, I went to one _once;_ but I didn't much like it.

CAPT. H. Ha, ha, ha! (_laughing_) Not bad. (_TRIPTOLEMUS rises from his chair, and makes him a low bow_)

COCKLE. (_to TRIPTOLEMUS_) Once more, sir, what shall it be?

TRIPTOLE. Don't you think "Beat my neighbour out of doors," rather a pretty game?

COCKLE. No, no; perhaps you won't object to say cribbage?

TRIPTOLE. Certainly not, sir, if it will gratify you. Cribbage--I'll say it again--cribbage!

CAPT. H. Ha, ha, ha! good again! (_TRIPTOLEMUS rises and makes another bow to the CAPTAIN_)

COCKLE. Now, then, to see who deals. (_cuts the cards_) I wish you'd cut, sir.

TRIPTOLE. (_aside_) I wish I could.

COCKLE. Perhaps you'll deal, sir. Ah, me! I only wish I was sitting down to cribbage now with my poor dear Triptolemus!

CAPT. H. (_savagely_) So do I!