Under a Veil: A Comedietta in One Act
Part 1
Transcriber Notes
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No. 2.
=Just Published.= The “Popular Edition” of =Baker’s Reading Club= and =Hand Speaker=. Nos. 1, 2, and 3. 50 selections in each. Price 15 cents each.
THE GLOBE DRAMA.
ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE
UNDER A VEIL.
By Sir Randall Roberts, Bart., and George M. Baker.
BOSTON: GEORGE M. BAKER & CO., 41-45 Franklin Street.
Copyright, 1876, by GEORGE M. BAKER.
Spencer’s Universal Stage.
_A Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public or Private Performance. Containing a full description of all the necessary Stage Business._
PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. ☞ No Plays Exchanged.
1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3 Acts. 6 male, 4 female characters.
2. NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Acts. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 3 female char.
3. THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. By Mrs. Planche. 3 male, 2 female char.
4. JOHN WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char.
5. THE TURKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 Act. By Montague Williams and F. C. Burnand. 6 male, 1 female char.
6. THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.
7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char.
8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male char.
9. SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 female char.
10. TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A Farce in 1 Act. By Lenox Horne. 4 male, 1 female char.
11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char.
12. THE DAUGHTER of the REGIMENT. A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball, 6 male, 2 female char.
13. AUNT CHARLOTTE’S MAID. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.
14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char.
15. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char.
16. DUNDUCKETTY’S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 6 male, 3 female char.
17. I’VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char.
19. MY PRECIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char.
20. MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char.
22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Farce in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char.
23. DANDELION’S DODGES. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char.
24. A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char.
25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 male, 3 female char.
26. A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy in 2 Acts. By Charles Matthews. 6 male, 4 female char.
27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. By Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3 female char.
28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. By H. T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char.
29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2 female char.
30. SARAH’S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char.
31. HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N. H. Harrington. 7 male, 3 female char.
32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 6 female char.
33. A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char.
34. YOUR LIFE’S IN DANGER. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.
35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Acts. By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6 male, 2 female char.
36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, 1 female char.
37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act. By George A. Stuart, M. D. 6 male, 1 female char.
38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3 Acts. By Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char.
39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male char.
40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.
41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char.
42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar. 10 male, 2 female char.
43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence. 3 male, 3 female char.
44. DON’T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char.
45. NURSEY CHICKWEED. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char.
46. MARY MOO; or, Which shall I Marry? A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male, 1 female char.
47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts. 8 male, 7 female char.
48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7 female char.
49. SILVERSTONE’S WAGER. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By R. R. Andrews. 4 male, 3 female char.
50. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By Chas. Reade. 5 male, 2 female char.
55. THE WIFE’S SECRET. A Play in 5 Acts. By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2 female char.
56. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Comedy in 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 female char.
57. PUTKINS; Heir to Castles in the Air. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By W. R. Emerson. 2 male, 2 female char.
58. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. By Thomas J. Williams. 3 male, 2 female char.
59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char.
60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char.
61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 Acts. 8 male, 7 female char.
62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIM? A Vaudeville. 1 male, 2 female char.
63. MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudeville in 1 Act. 2 male, 2 female char.
64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 2 male, 2 female char.
65. THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.
66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 2 female char.
67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 2 male, 2 female char.
68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 male, 4 female char.
69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comic Drama in 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.
70. PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char.
_Descriptive Catalogue mailed free on application to_
GEO. M. BAKER & CO., 41-45 Franklin St., Boston.
UNDER A VEIL.
A Comedietta in One Act.
BY
SIR RANDAL ROBERTS, BART.,
AND
GEORGE M. BAKER.
BOSTON: GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY, 41 FRANKLIN STREET. 1877.
CHARACTERS.
CHARLES DEVEREAUX. PRITCHARD. ELIZABETH. WAITER. Costumes modern.
COPYRIGHT. BY GEO. M. BAKER. 1877.
UNDER A VEIL.
SCENE I.—_Two rooms right and left, stage divided in the centre; a door of communication between rooms, fastened by a bolt on either side; small tables, sofas, and arm-chairs. Practicable doors_, 1 E. L., 2 E. L., _and_ 2 E. R. _Window at back of_ R. _room. Door at back of_ L. _room_.
_Pri._ (_advancing towards table_). Beg pardon, sir.
_Cha._ (_lazily_). All right.
_Pri._ Beg pardon, sir, exceedingly sorry to disturb you; (_to_ WAITER) he’s asleep.
_Cha._ (_snores_).
_Pri._ (_loudly_). I’m really very sorry to wake you, sir.
_Cha._ (_still lying on sofa_). What! you don’t mean to say it’s twelve.
_Pri._ Twelve! ah, to be sure, the hour I was to wake him for the ball. No, sir, it’s only ten o’clock; but (_looking at him_) he’s asleep again—the devil! (_Calling loudly._) I’m really pained to awake you, sir—
_Cha._ (_half rising and yawning_). What on earth’s the matter? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Red Lion, is it?
[_Sinks back._
_Pri._ Beg pardon, sir, I am not Red Lion: it is my neighbor of the next hotel I suppose you allude to. Here, sir, you are in the first and best hotel in the town,—the White Horse.
_Cha._ (_stretching himself on sofa_). All right, with all my heart, then, Mr. White Horse. What is it?
_Pri._ Well, sir, the fact is, I’m in a dreadful fix—a most awkward predicament, out of which I cannot extricate myself without your assistance. You see, sir, if you will only pardon it, but my daughter was only married to-day. Yes, sir, married; in fact, sir, she was married to make her happy—you know, sir,—you understand! And, sir, just as we are having a little dance in honor of this marriage, which takes up all our spare accommodation, a lady and her maid arrive, asking for rooms; and, as they require two beds in one room, I dared to hope that perhaps, sir, you would oblige me by changing this room for the next one. You see, sir, that the bedroom belonging to this sitting-room has two beds, whilst in here (_throwing open door in centre partition_) there is only one bed, though in all respects furnished in the same manner. If you, sir, would oblige me by just looking in (_on turning to_ CHARLES, _finds him asleep_)—Confound it, he’s asleep again! (_To audience._) An idea occurs to me; (_turning to_ WAITER) here, George, catch hold of one end of this sofa. (_They take sofa, and carry it into next room with_ CHARLES _asleep on it_.) There, I don’t believe he’ll find it out; here, George, his luggage. (_Brings baggage, but leaves letter._) There, now, that’s all right, and now (_entering next door, and closing with bolt_) I can fetch the ladies up.
[_Exit._
_Re-enter_ PRICHARD _ushering in_ LUCY _and_ ELIZABETH. PRICHARD _carrying candle_. CHARLES _asleep in_ R. H. _room_.
_Pri._ These are the rooms, madam. This door leads into the bedroom.
[_Shows door_ 1 E. L., _and_ ELIZABETH _takes luggage in_.
_Luc._ Many thanks. Don’t forget the horses at six o’clock to-morrow morning.
_Pri._ To the moment, madam. (_Aside to_ ELIZABETH, _who has re-entered_.) If you can find time, join us downstairs. Don’t forget; I shall expect you.
_Eliz._ All right; as soon as missus has done with me.
[_Exit_ PRI.
_Cha._ (R. H., _waking up_). Hullo! there’s somebody talking in the next room.
[_Listens, sitting up._
_Luc._ You seem to know the landlord, Elizabeth?
_Eliz._ Oh, yes, ma’am, I’ve known him for some time: his wife was a friend of mine, and his daughter that married to-day is my godchild.
_Luc._ Indeed! Then I suppose you’d like to join them downstairs. You can go, and I’ll open my things myself.
_Eliz._ Oh, thank you, mum!
[_Exit_ L. 2 E.
LUCY _unpacking her boxes_, L. H.
_Cha._ (_sitting on side of sofa_, R. H.). By Jove! one hears every thing that is going on next door. Seems to be a lady and her maid—not very gentlemanly to listen, Master Charley, but it’s interesting. Ah, well! when I was young this might have led to an adventure. I should never have rested until I had made the acquaintance of my fair neighbor,—for I suppose she is fair,—whilst now there’s not the slightest danger. Confound it! I must see this woman, though. (_Rising, and going towards door._) Hullo! I could have sworn the lock of the door was on the other side just now. That’s deuced funny. (_Looking round the room._) Why, where the mischief am I? and how on earth did I get here?
_Luc._ (_looking at her watch_). Half-past ten.
_Cha._ Ah! I understand. I thought I had a terrible nightmare. A frightful monster held me by the feet, and another by the head; it appears, however, that these monsters must have been the Red Lion or the White Horse, and my room has been given to this lady, whoever she may be, to suit their convenience. Well, I don’t care very much about seeing her. All women are alike—just as cats are all alike. (_Stoops down to examine the door._) Why, there’s no lock! only a bolt. Well, I can’t help that; let’s see if we can’t get another nap until it’s time to go to the ball.
[_Returns to sofa._
_Luc._ (_book in hand, seated on sofa_). This “Voyage round the World” is always a charming book to read.
_She puts her book upon the table, and leans her head upon her arm as if to read book; perceives letter._
_Luc._ Why, here’s somebody’s letter! (_Takes it up, coming down front._) Not very ladylike to read it, I suppose; but all women are curious. Seems to be unfinished. Of course it’s very wrong to read this letter (_reads_),—
“MY DEAR GEORGE,—As I quite anticipated on my return from home, the Government appointment I expected has been given to another. Pardon me, if on receiving this intelligence, I quitted London without bidding you adieu—and as it seems”—
This is really too bad of me,—
“that I am too lazy to do any thing, as you all of you always said”—
[_Pausing._
What on earth does that mean? I should much like to see the author (_reading again from letter_),—
“I intend as soon as I have realized what property I have, to go to Baden, and once more try my luck at the tables. If I win, I shall found a hospital; and if I lose—well, in that case, the only thing I can see for me to do is to join my mother.”
[_Finishing reading letter._
That’s all; this gentleman has got no further, or else he has taken away the end of it.
[_Commences re-reading in a low tone._
_Cha._ (_rousing himself_). Oh! I can’t lay here any longer. Morpheus won’t come to my aid. What shall I do? Well, I might just as well finish my letter to George. Why! what the deuce have I done with it? (_Searches in his pockets._) Why, it seems to me I left it on the table before I went to sleep.
[_He looks upon the table._
_Luc._ (_again reading letter_). “In that case, the only thing I can see for me to do is to join my mother.”
_Cha._ (_striking his forehead_). Confound it! I’ve left it in the next room.
_Luc._ (_putting down letter, and taking up book_). After all, I’m not George, and I’ve no right to read that letter.
_Cha._ But then my letter must be in the power of this woman. It appears to me that I’ve a perfect right to—
[_Knocks gently at door._
_Luc._ Good gracious! there’s some one knocking. Who is there? What do you want?
_Cha._ A thousand pardons, madam. I am the person who inhabited a few minutes ago the room you now occupy; and by accident in leaving the room I left an unfinished letter.
_Luc._ (_aside_). Dear me! This is the young gentleman that’s too lazy for any thing.
_Cha._ Would you be kind enough to return me my letter?
_Luc._ (_embarrassed_). Sir, I’ll ring in order that your letter may be brought to you.
_Cha._ A thousand pardons, madam; but pray don’t trouble to ring. Can’t you slip it under the door?
_Luc._ Oh, certainly! There it is.
[_Passes letter._
_Cha._ Thanks. (_Aside._) A charming voice,—soft as a bird’s; and, if the plumage only corresponds—(_He goes to examine fastening._) Confound this bolt! Infamous hotel! (_He returns to table, and prepares to write._) By the way, I should like to know if she’s read this (_looking at letter_). Well, there’s a very old method for ascertaining that: ask her. (_Goes to door, and knocks._) Madam, pardon me—
_Luc._ What do you want, sir?
_Cha._ Madam, my letter was left open on the table; and in taking it up—without, of course, the slightest desire—your eye must naturally have fallen upon it, and—
_Luc._ (_aside_). I understand. (_Aloud._) I don’t understand you, sir; and, inasmuch as I’ve done what you desire, I must beg that we have no further conversation, as I shall refuse to answer.
_Cha._ Why, may I ask? I was asleep just now, and dreaming charmingly. If you like, I’ll tell you the dream.
_Luc._ Certainly not, sir.
_Cha._ Very good: it’ll keep for another time; but then, inasmuch as it was you that woke me up, permit me at least to converse with you as a compensation.
_Luc._ (_aside_). He is not stupid.
_Cha._ I beg pardon: did you speak?
_Luc._ (_aside_). What have I to dread? He seems a gentleman. (_Aloud._) Well, sir, proceed, as you consider yourself aggrieved; only remember that I trust to your feelings as a gentleman, and your discretion.
_Cha._ Madam, you may depend upon it. (_Wheeling arm-chair to door, and speaking through keyhole._) Are you married?
_Luc._ (_affronted and aside_). Upon my word! (_Aloud._) Do you call that discretion, sir?
_Cha._ Most certainly; as a subject of conversation I see nothing against it. Society prescribes certain forms of conversation; and, to ascertain what forms to use, one must know whether one is speaking to a widow or a young girl, to an old maid or a married woman.
_Luc._ In—I—I am married.
_Cha._ (_aside_). So much the worse. I, madam, am a bachelor, and I’m going to Baden. Where may you be going?
_Luc._ A long way off, sir.
_Cha._ To—
_Luc._ To rejoin my husband, naturally.
_Cha._ By the way, madam, do you love your husband?
_Luc._ Excuse me, sir, but, if you don’t mind, we’ll change the conversation.
_Cha._ Whatever pleases you, madam, pleases me. (_Pause._) A charming hotel, madam, is this Golden Lion. So well furnished, so well decorated! My goodness me! it gives me the inclination to set fire to the place.
_Luc._ If you’ve any such intentions, sir, pray remember that I’m in the hotel.
_Cha._ Very good; only just remember, that, in not setting fire to the hotel, I’m saving your life. (_A pause._) By the way, madam, now I come to think of it, you do not love your husband.
_Luc._ Sir!
_Cha._ When one is compelled to separate one’s self from a husband that one loves, one is not so light-hearted as you were just now, and—
_Luc._ Really, sir!
_Cha._ Madam, pardon me, but you do not evidently possess a husband who would make you cry out in the words of Sterne, “Oh, Love, king of gods and men!” Now, if it had been my fate to have crossed your path, I swear that—
_Luc._ And I swear to you, sir, that I would never marry a man who was too lazy to do any thing.
_Cha._ Madam, you have read my letter.
_Luc._ I, sir? oh, dear, no! I can assure you I only looked at it. By the way, would you mind informing me how it is that you came to inhabit this room?
_Cha._ Well, the fact is, I went to sleep on the sofa: I’ve some faint recollection of the landlord coming in and asking me something about moving out; but he was so long about it that I fell asleep again, and during that time I fancy he had me quietly carried, sofa and all, into the next room. By the way, I have a charming idea.
_Luc._ May I venture to ask it? (_Aside._) I should like to have a look at this man.
_Cha._ Madam, in the East, you are aware that a veil is a protecting wall between man and woman. If you would endeavor to put on such a veil, and would do me the honor of granting me an interview,—the landlord can supply us with refreshments,—we can converse more easily than through this partition; in fact, we shall be in the East; and, further, I pledge myself on my honor as a gentleman, that nothing shall in any way cause you to regret our interview.
_Luc._ (_aside_). His letter announces that he intends to risk his fortune. What if I could dissuade him? it would at least be the act of a Christian, and—and a woman.
_Cha._ What! not a word? must I then beseech you in song?—
(_Sings._)
Oh! let my voice persuasive Penetrate to your inmost heart; Oh! list to my prayer so plaintive, Through the door that keeps us apart.
_Luc._ I consent, but upon one condition; and that is, that you explain to me how it is that a man can be too lazy to do any thing.
_Cha._ Very good; at least I will explain to you the meaning of this somewhat bad joke.
_Luc._ Sir, upon these conditions in a few moments I shall be prepared to meet you—in China.
_Cha._ Madam, in a few minutes I shall have the honor of presenting myself. (_Goes to window, calling._) Mr. Red Lion, or Mr. White Horse!
_Luc._ (_aside_). I suppose I’d better alter my dress a little for the occasion.
[_Exit_ L. 1 E.
_Cha._ (_coming down stage_). He has absolutely condescended to hear me,—this landlord. Upon my word, I’m rather pleased with this little adventure; if I’d gone to the ball, at any rate, I should never have heard so sweet a voice.
_Enter_ PRICHARD, _slightly intoxicated._
_Pri._ For nobody else but you, sir, would I have disturbed myself upon the auspicious occasion. To-day! yesterday! did I tell you that my daughter was married? Yes, sir, to make—
_Cha._ You couldn’t do better, my dear White Horse, if you intended giving your daughter a husband. Just listen to me for a moment; you will oblige me by going up—yourself, mind—into that lady’s room next door.
_Pri._ Marrying one’s daughter, sir, when one is a father, is a grave responsibility; my emotions—
_Cha._ Of course you feel as a father; you will be good enough to take up plenty of candles, some flowers—
_Pri._ So long as she’s happy, so long as—(CHARLES, _movement of impatience_)—candles, sir, yes, sir, and flowers; yes, sir.
_Cha._ Afterwards you will bring up some refreshments; tea, for instance.
_Pri._ Tea, sir?
_Cha._ Yes; tea, tea, tea.
_Pri._ Senna tea?
_Cha._ No, confound you, ordinary tea!
_Pri._ Ordin— ordmorary— onding (_Charles impatient_)—You’re not ill, I hope, sir?
_Cha._ Not in the least, thanks. (_Going, Charles stops him._) Ah, by the way, landlord, that lady in the next room—what sort of a person is she?
_Pri._ Char—ming, sir; be-a-u-ti-ful. Oh! she’s much handsomer than her father; but if hereafter he should betray her, if he should—
_Cha._ Who the devil are you talking about?
_Pri._ My shon-in-law.
_Cha._ Confound your son-in-law!
_Pri._ Yes, sir, certainly, sir: that’s what I say, and—
_Cha._ Be off, and do what I told you.
_Pri._ Yes, sir, directly; but you’ll understand that on such an auspicious—
_Cha._ There, there—be off; Red Lion—he’s gone.
_Pri._ (_turning at door_). White Horse Hotel, sir, please.
[_Exit._
_Cha._ (_alone_). I suppose he’ll do what I’ve told him. I ought to change my coat too. Upon my honor (_dressing himself_), I’m delighted with my evening; and somehow or another, oddly enough, I feel quite curious to see this woman; in fact, I begin to be interested. It’s so long since I’ve been in the least interested—yes, it’s six months since any thing of the kind has happened. And my heart is, after all, but human: it detests a void.
[_Goes on dressing._
_Enter_ PRICHARD _and_ GEORGE, L. 2 E., _carrying candelabra and vase of flowers_.
_Pri._ (_still drunk_). George, your conduct is schandalush: your master’s daughter is married to-day, and you take no more notish of the event than a cow, than a cow or calf; you’ve no heart, George, you’ve no shoul.
_George._ But, sir—
_Pri._ Hold your tongue; pray for her happiness, and go down and tell her I’m coming.
[_Exit_ GEORGE.
_Enter_ LUCY 1 E. L., _veil in hand, and long cloak on, hiding figure_.
_Luc._ (_perceiving flowers_). Oh, what a charming change! I congratulate you, sir.