Author: Tom Taylor
Date: 2019-02-15T21:50:30+00:00
Keywords: Comedies; Americans -- England -- Drama; Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Drama
Description: A rough American from a distant branch of the Trenchard family returns to England and quickly becomes embroiled in the family’s affairs.
Publisher: Standard Ebooks

Our American Cousin

By Tom Taylor.

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Dramatis Personae

- Lord Dundreary

- Asa Trenchard

- Sir Edward Trenchard

- Capt. De Boots

- Harry Vernon

- Abel Murcott

- Mr. Coyle

- Mr. Buddicombe

- Mr. Binny

- John Wickens

- Mrs. Mountchessington

- Florence Trenchard

- Mary

- Augusta

- Georgina

- Sharpe

- Skillet

Our American Cousin

Act
I

Scene 1

Drawing room in 3. Trenchard Manor, C. D., backed by interior, discovering table with luncheon spread. Large French window, R. 3 E., through which a fine English park is seen. Open archway, L. 3 E. Set balcony behind. Table, R., books and papers on it. Work basket containing wools and embroidery frame. A fashionable armchair and sofa, L. 2 E., small table near C. D. Stage handsomely set, costly furniture, carpet down, chairs, etc.

| Mr. Buddicombe discovered on sofa reading newspaper. Skillet and Sharpe busily arranging furniture as curtain rises.
Sharpe | I don’t know how you may feel as a visitor, Mr. Buddicombe, but I think this is a most uncomfortable family.
Mr. Buddicombe | Very uncomfortable. I have no curtain to my bed.
Skillet | And no wine at the second table.
Sharpe | And meaner servants I never seed.
Mr. Buddicombe | I’m afraid Sir Edward is in a queer strait.
Skillet | Yes, for only this morning, Mr. Binny, Mrs. Skillet says he—
| Enter Mr. Binny, L. 3 E.

Mr. Binny

Mind your hown business instead hof your betters. I’m disgusted with you lower servants. When the wine merchant presents his bills, you men, hear me, say he’s been pressing for the last six months, do you?

Skillet | Nor I, that the last year’s milliner’s bills have not been paid.
Sharpe | Nor I, that Miss Florence has not had no new dresses from London all winter.
Mr. Buddicombe | And I can solemnly swear that his lordship’s hair has been faithfully bound in this bosom.

Mr. Binny

That’ll do, that’ll do; but to remember to check hidle curiosity is the first duty of men hin livery. Ha, ’ere hare the letters.

| Enter John Wickens, L. 3 E., with green baize bag. Mr. Binny takes bag, takes out letters and reads addresses.

Mr. Binny

Hah! bill, of course, Miss Augusta, Mrs. Mountchessington, Lord Dundreary, Captain De Boots, Miss Georgina Mountchessington, Lieutenant Vernon, ah! that’s from the admiralty. What’s this? Miss Florence Trenchard, via Brattleboro’, Vermont.

Mr. Buddicombe | Where’s that, Mr. Binny.
John Wickens | Why that be hin the United States of North Hamerica, and a main good place for poor folks.
Mr. Binny | John Wickens, you forget yourself.
John Wickens | Beg pardon, Mr. Binny.
Mr. Binny | John Wickens, leave the room.
John Wickens | But I know where Vermont be though.
Mr. Binny | John Wickens, get hout. Exit John Wickens, L. 3 E.
Mr. Buddicombe | Dreadful low fellow, that.
Mr. Binny | Halways himpudent.
Mr. Buddicombe | Looking at letter in Mr. Binny’s hand. Why, that is Sir Edward’s hand, Mr. Binny, he must have been sporting.
Mr. Binny | Yes, shooting the wild helephants and buffalos what abound there.

Mr. Buddicombe

The nasty beasts. Looking off, R. 2 E. Hello, there comes Miss Florence tearing across the lane like a three year old colt.

Sharp and Skillet | Oh, Gemini. Run off, R. 2 E. Mr. Buddicombe runs off, L. 2 E.
| Enter Florence Trenchard, R. 2 E.

Florence Trenchard

As if after running. Oh! I’m fairly out of breath. Good morning, Mr. Binny, the letter bag I saw coming, Wickens coming with it. I thought I could catch him before I reached the house. Sits R. So off I started, I forgot the pond, it was in or over. I got over, but my hat got in. I wish you’d fish it out for me, you won’t find the pond very deep.

Mr. Binny | Me fish for an ’at? Does she take me for an hangler?

Florence Trenchard

Give me the letters. Takes them. Ah, blessed budget that descends upon Trenchard Manor, like rain on a duck pond. Tell papa and all, that the letters have come, you will find them on the terrace.

Mr. Binny | Yes, Miss. Going, L. 3 E.
Florence Trenchard | And then go fish out my hat out of the pond, it’s not very deep.
Mr. Binny | Aside. Me fish for ’ats? I wonder if she takes me for an hangler? Exit disgusted, R. 3 E.

Florence Trenchard

Reading directions. Lieutenant Vernon. This is a large letter with a large white envelope, red seal. In her Majesty’s service. Admiralty, R. N. Ah, that’s an answer to Harry’s application for a ship. Papa promised to use his influence for him. I hope he has succeeded, but then he will have to leave us, and who knows if he ever comes back. What a foolish girl I am, when I know that his rise in the service will depend upon it. I do hope he’ll get it, and, if he must leave us, I’ll bid him goodbye as a lass who loves a sailor should.

| Enter Sir Edward Trenchard, Mrs. Mountchessington., Augusta, Capt. De Boots, Harry Vernon, L. 3 E.

Florence Trenchard

Papa, dear, here are letters for you, one for you, Mrs. Mountchessington, one for you, Capt. De Boots, and one for you, Harry. Hiding letter behind her.

Harry Vernon | Ah, one for me, Florence?
Florence Trenchard | Now what will you give me for one?
Harry Vernon | Ah, then you have one?
Florence Trenchard | Yes, there, Harry. Gives it.
Harry Vernon | Ah, for a ship. Opens and reads.
Florence Trenchard | Ah! Mon ami, you are to leave us. Good news, or bad?
Harry Vernon | No ship yet, this promises another year of landlubbery. Goes up.
Florence Trenchard | I’m so sorry. Aside. I’m so glad he’s not going away. But where’s Dundreary. Has anybody seen Dundreary?
| Enter Lord Dundreary.
Lord Dundreary | Good morning, Miss Florence.
Florence Trenchard | Comes down, L. Good morning, my Lord Dundreary. Who do you think has been here? What does the postman bring?
Lord Dundreary | Well, sometimes he brings a bag with a lock on it, sometimes newspapers, and sometimes letters, I suppothe.

Florence Trenchard

There. Gives letter. Lord Dundreary opens letter and Florence Trenchard goes up R. Lord Dundreary knocks knees against chair, turns round knocks shins, and at last is seated extreme R.

Lord Dundreary | Thank you. Reads letter.
Capt. De Boots | Reading paper. By Jove, old Soloman has made a crop of it.
Lord Dundreary | A—what of it?
Capt. De Boots | I beg pardon, an event I am deeply interested in, that’s all. I beg pardon.
Augusta | Ah! Florence, dear, there’s a letter of yours got among mine. Gives it.
Florence Trenchard | Why papa, it’s from dear brother Ned.
Sir Edward Trenchard | From my boy! Where is he? How is he? Read it.

Florence Trenchard

He writes from Brattleboro’ Vt. Reading written letter. “Quite well, just come in from a shooting excursion, with a party of Crows, splendid fellows, six feet high.”

Lord Dundreary | Birds six feet high, what tremendous animals they must be.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, I see what my brother means; a tribe of indians called Crows, not birds.
Lord Dundreary | Oh, I thought you meant those creatures with wigs on them.
Florence Trenchard | Wigs!
Lord Dundreary | I mean those things that move, breathe and walk, they look like animals with those things. Moving his arms like wings.
Florence Trenchard | Wings.
Lord Dundreary | Birds with wings, that’s the idea.

Florence Trenchard

Reading written letter. “By the by, I have lately come quite haphazard upon the other branch of our family, which emigrated to America at the Restoration. They are now thriving in this State, and discovering our relationship, they received me most hospitably. I have cleared up the mysterious death of old Mark Trenchard.”

Sir Edward Trenchard | Of my uncle!

Florence Trenchard

Reading written letter. “It appears that when he quarreled with his daughter on her marriage with poor Meredith, he came here in search of this stray shoot of the family tree, found them and died in their house, leaving Asa Trenchard, one of the sons, heir to his personal property in England, which ought to belong to poor Mary Meredith. Asa Trenchard is about to sail for the old country, to take possession. I gave him directions to find you out, and he should arrive almost as soon as this letter. Receive him kindly for the sake of the kindness he has shown to me, and let him see some of our shooting. Your affectionate brother, Ned.”

Sir Edward Trenchard | An American branch of the family.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Oh, how interesting!
Augusta | Enthusiastically. How delightfully romantic! I can imagine the wild young hunter. An Apollo of the prairie.
Florence Trenchard | An Apollo of the prairie; yes, with a strong nasal twang, and a decided taste for tobacco and cobblers.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Florence, you forget that he is a Trenchard, and no true Trenchard would have a liking for cobblers or low people of that kind.

Florence Trenchard | I hate him, whatever he is, coming here to rob poor cousin Mary of her grandmother’s guineas.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Florence, how often must I request you not to speak of Mary Meredith as your cousin?

Florence Trenchard

Why, she is my cousin, is she not? Besides she presides over her milk pail like a duchess playing dairymaid. Sir Edward Trenchard goes up. Ah! Papa won’t hear me speak of my poor cousin, and then I’m so fond of syllabubs. Dundreary, do you know what syllabubs are?

Lord Dundreary | Oh, yeth, I know what syllabubs is—yeth—yeth.
Florence Trenchard | Why, I don’t believe you do know what they are.

Lord Dundreary

Not know what syllabubs are? That’s a good idea. Why they are—syllabubs are—they are only babies, idiotic children; that’s a good idea, that’s good. Bumps head against Florence Trenchard.

Florence Trenchard | No, it’s not a bit like the idea. What you mean are called cherubims.
Lord Dundreary | What, those things that look like oranges, with wings on them?
Florence Trenchard | Not a bit like it. Well, after luncheon you must go with me and I’ll introduce you to my cousin Mary and syllabubs.
Lord Dundreary | I never saw Mr. Syllabubs, I am sure.
Florence Trenchard | Well, now, don’t forget.
Lord Dundreary | I never can forget—when I can recollect.
Florence Trenchard | Then recollect that you have an appointment with me after luncheon.
Lord Dundreary | Yeth, yeth.
Florence Trenchard | Well, what have you after luncheon?

Lord Dundreary

Well, sometimes I have a glass of brandy with an egg in it, sometimes a run ’round the duck-pond, sometimes a game of checkers—that’s for exercise, and perhaps a game of billiards.

Florence Trenchard | No, no; you have with me after luncheon, an ap—an ap—
Lord Dundreary | An ap—an ap—
Florence Trenchard | An ap—an appoint—appointment.
Lord Dundreary | An ointment, that’s the idea. Knocks against Capt. De Boots as they go upstage.

Mrs. Mountchessington

Aside. That artful girl has designs upon Lord Dundreary. Augusta, dear, go and see how your poor, dear sister is this morning.

Augusta | Yes, mamma. Exit, L. 1 E.
Mrs. Mountchessington | She is a great sufferer, my dear.
Lord Dundreary | Yeth, but a lonely one.
Florence Trenchard | What sort of a night had she?
Mrs. Mountchessington | Oh, a very refreshing one, thanks to the draught you were kind enough to prescribe for her, Lord Dundreary.
Florence Trenchard | What! Has Lord Dundreary been prescribing for Georgina?

Lord Dundreary

Yeth. You see I gave her a draught that cured the effect of the draught, and that draught was a draft that didn’t pay the doctor’s bill. Didn’t that draught—

Florence Trenchard | Good gracious! what a number of draughts. You have almost a game of draughts.
Lord Dundreary | Ha! ha! ha!
Florence Trenchard | What’s the matter?
Lord Dundreary | That wath a joke, that wath.
Florence Trenchard | Where’s the joke? Lord Dundreary screams and turns to Mrs. Mountchessington.
Mrs. Mountchessington | No.

Lord Dundreary

She don’t see it. Don’t you see—a game of drafts—pieces of wound wood on square pieces of leather. That’s the idea. Now, I want to put your brains to the test. I want to ask you a whime.

Florence Trenchard | A whime, what’s that?
Lord Dundreary | A whime is a widdle, you know.
Florence Trenchard | A widdle!
Lord Dundreary | Yeth; one of those things, like—why is so-and-so or somebody like somebody else.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, I see, you mean a conundrum.

Lord Dundreary

Yeth, a drum, that’s the idea. What is it gives a cold in the head, cures a cold, pays the doctor’s bill and makes the home-guard look for substitutes? Florence Trenchard repeats it. Yeth, do you give it up?

Florence Trenchard | Yes.

Lord Dundreary

Well, I’ll tell you—a draught. Now I’ve got a better one that that: When is a dog’s tail not a dog’s tail? Florence Trenchard repeats. During this Florence Trenchard, Mrs. Mountchessington and Lord Dundreary are downstage.

Florence Trenchard | Yes, and willingly.
Lord Dundreary | When it’s a cart. They look at him enquiringly.
Florence Trenchard | Why, what in earth has a dog’s tail to do with a cart?
Lord Dundreary | When it moves about, you know. A horse makes a cart move, so does a dog make his tail move.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, I see what you mean—when it’s a wagon. Wags the letter in her hand.
Lord Dundreary | Well, a wagon and a cart are the same thing, ain’t they! That’s the idea—it’s the same thing.
Florence Trenchard | They are not the same. In the case of your conundrum there’s a very great difference.
Lord Dundreary | Now I’ve got another. Why does a dog waggle his tail?
Florence Trenchard | Upon my word, I never inquired.
Lord Dundreary | Because the tail can’t waggle the dog. Ha! Ha!
Florence Trenchard | Ha! ha! Is that your own, Dundreary?
Lord Dundreary | Now I’ve got one, and this one is original.
Florence Trenchard | No, no, don’t spoil the last one.
Lord Dundreary | Yeth; but this is extremely interesting.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Do you think so, Lord Dundreary?

Lord Dundreary

Yeth. Miss Georgina likes me to tell her my jokes. By the by, talking of that lonely sufferer, isn’t she an interesting invalid? They do say that’s what’s the matter with me. I’m an interesting invalid.

Florence Trenchard

Oh, that accounts for what I have heard so many young ladies say—Florence, dear, don’t you think Lord Dundreary’s extremely interesting? I never knew what they meant before.

Lord Dundreary | Yeth, the doctor recommends me to drink donkey’s milk.
Florence Trenchard | Hiding laugh. Oh, what a clever man he must be. He knows we generally thrive best on our native food. Goes up.

Lord Dundreary

Looking first at Florence Trenchard and then at Mrs. Mountchessington. I’m so weak, and that is so strong. Yes, I’m naturally very weak, and I want strengthening. Yes, I guess I’ll try it.

| Enter Augusta. Business with Lord Dundreary, who finally exits and brings on Georgina, L. 1 E.
Lord Dundreary | Look at this lonely sufferer. Bringing on Georgina, seats her on sofa, L. There, repothe yourself.
Georgina | Fanning herself. Thank you, my lord. Everybody is kind to me, and I am so delicate.
Augusta | At table. Captain De Boots, do help to unravel these wools for me, you have such an eye for color.
Florence Trenchard | An eye for color! Yes, especially green.
Lord Dundreary | Screams. Ha! ha! ha!
All | What’s the matter?
Lord Dundreary | Why, that wath a joke, that wath.
Florence Trenchard | Where was the joke?
Lord Dundreary | Especially, ha! ha!

Sir Edward Trenchard

Florence, dear, I must leave you to represent me to my guests. These letters will give me a great deal of business today.

Florence Trenchard | Well, papa, remember I am your little clerk and person of all work.

Sir Edward Trenchard

No, no; this is private business—money matters, my love, which women know nothing about. Aside. Luckily for them. I expect Mr. Coyle today.

Florence Trenchard | Dear papa, how I wish you would get another agent.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Nonsense, Florence, impossible. He knows my affairs. His father was agent for the late Baronet. He’s one of the family, almost.

Florence Trenchard | Papa, I have implicit faith in my own judgement of faces. Depend upon it, that man is not to be trusted.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Florence, you are ridiculous. I could not get on a week without him. Aside. Curse him, I wish I could! Mr. Coyle is a most intelligent agent, and a most faithful servant of the family.

| Enter Mr. Binny, L. 3 E.
Mr. Binny | Mr. Coyle and hagent with papers.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Show him into the library. I will be with him presently. Exit Mr. Binny.
Florence Trenchard | Remember the archery meeting, papa. It is at three.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Yes, yes, I’ll remember. Aside. Pretty time for such levity when ruin stares me in the face. Florence, I leave you as my representative. Aside. Now to prepare myself to meet my Shylock. Exit, R. 1 E.

Florence Trenchard

Why will papa not trust me? Harry Vernon comes down, R. Oh, Harry! I wish he would find out what a lot of pluck and common sense there is in this feather head of mine.

Lord Dundreary | Miss Florence, will you be kind enough to tell Miss Georgina all about that American relative of yours.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, about my American cousin; certainly. Aside to Harry Vernon. Let’s have some fun. Well, he’s about 17 feet high!
Lord Dundreary | Good gracious! 17 feet high!
Florence Trenchard | They are all 17 feet high in America, ain’t they, Mr. Vernon?
Harry Vernon | Yes, that’s about the average height.

Florence Trenchard

And they have long black hair that reaches down to their heels; they have dark copper-colored skin, and they fight with—What do they fight with, Mr. Vernon?

Harry Vernon | Tomahawks and scalping knives.

Florence Trenchard

Yes; and you’d better take care, Miss Georgina, or he’ll take his tomahawk and scalping knife and scalp you immediately. Georgina screams and faints.

Lord Dundreary

Here, somebody get something and throw over her; a pail of water; no, not that, she’s pale enough already. Fans her with handkerchief. Georgina, don’t be afraid. Dundreary’s by your side, he will protect you.

Florence Trenchard

Don’t be frightened, Georgina. He will never harm you while Dundreary is about. Why, he could get three scalps here. Pulls Lord Dundreary’s whiskers. Georgina screams.

Lord Dundreary

Don’t scream, I won’t lose my whiskers. I know what I’ll do for my own safety. I will take this handkerchief and tie the roof of my head on. Ties it on.

Florence Trenchard | Pretending to cry. Goodbye, Dundreary. I’ll never see you again in all your glory.
Lord Dundreary | Don’t cry, Miss Florence, I’m ready for Mr. Tommy Hawk.
| Enter Mr. Binny.
Mr. Binny | If you please, Miss, ’ere’s a gent what says he’s hexpected.
Florence Trenchard | What’s his name? Where’s his card?

Mr. Binny

He didn’t tell me his name, Miss, and when I haxed him for his card ’e said ’e had a whole pack in his valise, and if I ’ad a mine ’e’d play me a game of seven hup. He says he has come to stay, and he certainly looks as if he didn’t mean to go.

Florence Trenchard | That’s him. Show him in, Mr. Binny. Exit Mr. Binny, L. 3 E. That’s my American cousin, I know.

Augusta

Romantically. Your American cousin. Oh, how delightfully romantic, isn’t it, Captain De Boots? Comes down. I can imagine the wild young hunter, with the free step and majestic mien of the hunter of the forest.

Asa Trenchard

Outside, L. 3 E. Consarn your picture, didn’t I tell you I was expected? You are as obstinate as Deacon Stumps’ forelock, that wouldn’t lie down and couldn’t stand up. Would’t pint forward and couldn’t go backward.

| Enter Asa Trenchard, L. 3 E., carrying a valise.
Asa Trenchard | Where’s the Squire?
Florence Trenchard | Do you mean Sir Edward Trenchard, sir?
Asa Trenchard | Yes.
Florence Trenchard | He is not present, but I am his daughter.
Asa Trenchard | Well, I guess that’ll fit about as well if you tell this darned old shoat to take me to my room.
Florence Trenchard | What does he mean by shoat?
Mr. Binny | Taking valise. He means me, mum; but what he wants—
Asa Trenchard | Hurry up, old hoss!
Mr. Binny | He calls me a ’oss, Miss, I suppose I shall be a hox next, or perhaps an ’ogg.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, darn me if you ain’t the consarnedest old shoat I ever did see since I was baptized Asa Trenchard.
Florence Trenchard | Ah! then it is our American cousin. Glad to see you—my brother told us to expect you.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, yes, I guess you do b’long to my family. I’m Asa Trenchard, born in Vermont, suckled on the banks of Muddy Creek, about the tallest gunner, the slickest dancer, and generally the loudest critter in the state. You’re my cousin, be you? Wal, I ain’t got no objections to kiss you, as one cousin ought to kiss another.

Harry Vernon | Sir, how dare you?

Asa Trenchard

Are you one of the family? Cause if you ain’t, you’ve got no right to interfere, and if you be, you needn’t be alarmed, I ain’t going to kiss you. Here’s your young man’s letter. Gives letter and attempts to kiss her.

Florence Trenchard

In the old country, Mr. Trenchard, cousins content themselves with hands, but our hearts are with them. You are welcome, there is mine. Gives her hand, which he shakes heartily.

Asa Trenchard

That’ll do about as well. I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to; but if you did, I wouldn’t stop on account of that sailor man. Business of Harry Vernon threatening Asa Trenchard. Oh! now you needn’t get your back up. What an all-fired chap you are. Now if you’ll have me shown to my room, I should like to fix up a bit and put on a clean buzzom. All start. Why, what on earth is the matter with you all? I only spoke because you’re so all-fired go-to-meeting like.

Florence Trenchard | Show Mr. Trenchard to the red room, Mr. Binny, that is if you are done with it, Mr. Dundreary.
Lord Dundreary | Yeth, Miss Florence. The room and I have got through with each other, yeth.
| Asa Trenchard and Lord Dundreary see each other for the first time. Business of recognition, ad lib.
Asa Trenchard | Concentrated essence of baboons, what on earth is that?
Lord Dundreary | He’s mad. Yes, Miss Florence, I’ve done with that room. The rooks crowed so that they racked my brain.
Asa Trenchard | You don’t mean to say that you’ve got any brains.
Lord Dundreary | No, sir, such a thing never entered my head. The wed indians want to scalp me. Holding hands to his head.
Florence Trenchard | The red room, then, Mr. Binny.

Asa Trenchard

To Mr. Binny. Hold on! Examines him. Wal, darn me, but you keep your help in all-fired good order here. Feels of him. This old shoat is fat enough to kill. Hits Mr. Binny in stomach. Mr. Binny runs off, L. 2 E. Mind how you go up stairs, old hoss, or you’ll bust your biler. Exit, L. 3 E.

Lord Dundreary | Now he thinks Mr. Binny’s an engine and has got a boiler.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, what fun!
Mrs. Mountchessington | Old Mark Trenchard died very rich, did he not, Florence?
Florence Trenchard | Very rich, I believe.
Augusta | He’s not at all romantic, is he, mamma?

Mrs. Mountchessington

Aside to her. My dear, I have no doubt he has solid good qualities, and I don’t want you to laugh at him like Florence Trenchard.

Augusta | No, mamma, I won’t.
Florence Trenchard | But what are we to do with him?
Lord Dundreary | Ha! Ha! ha!
All | What is the matter?
Lord Dundreary | I’ve got an idea.
Florence Trenchard | Oh! let’s hear Dundreary’s idea.
Lord Dundreary | It’s so seldom I get an idea that when I do get one it startles me. Let us get a pickle bottle.
Florence Trenchard | Pickle bottle! All come down.
Lord Dundreary | Yeth; one of those things with glass sides.
| Enter Asa Trenchard, L. 2 E.
Florence Trenchard | Oh! you mean a glass case.

Lord Dundreary

Yeth, a glass case, that’s the idea, and let us put this Mr. Thomas Hawk in it, and have him on exhibition. That’s the idea.

Asa Trenchard

Down L. of Florence Trenchard, overhearing. Oh! that’s your idea, is it? Wal, stranger, I don’t know what they’re going to do with me, but wherever they do put me, I hope it will be out of the reach of a jackass. I’m a real hoss, I am, and I get kinder riley with those critters.

Lord Dundreary

Now he thinks he’s a horse. I’ve heard of a great jackass, and I dreampt of a jackass, but I don’t believe there is any such insect.

Florence Trenchard | Well, cousin, I hope you made yourself comfortable.
Asa Trenchard | Well, no, I can’t say as I did. You see there was so many all-fired fixins in my room I couldn’t find anything I wanted.
Florence Trenchard | What was it you couldn’t find in your room?
Asa Trenchard | There was no soft soap.
Capt. De Boots | Soft soap!
Augusta | Soft soap!
Harry Vernon | Soft soap!
Mrs. Mountchessington | Soft soap!
Florence Trenchard | Soft soap!
Georgina | On sofa. Soft soap!
Lord Dundreary | Thoft thoap?

Asa Trenchard

Yes, soft soap. I reckon you know what that is. However, I struck a pump in the kitchen, slicked my hair down a little, gave my boots a lick of grease, and now I feel quite handsome; but I’m everlastingly dry.

Florence Trenchard | You’ll find ale, wine and luncheon on the side table.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I don’t know as I’ve got any appetite. You see comin’ along on the cars I worried down half a dozen ham sandwiches, eight or ten boiled eggs, two or three pumpkin pies and a string of cold sausages—and—Wal, I guess I can hold on till dinnertime.

Lord Dundreary | Did that illustrious exile eat all that? I wonder where he put it?
Asa Trenchard | I’m as dry as a sap-tree in August.
Mr. Binny | Throwing open, E. D. Luncheon!

Asa Trenchard

Goes hastily up to table. Wal, I don’t want to speak out too plain, but this is an awful mean set out for a big house like this.

Florence Trenchard | Why, what’s wrong, sir?
Asa Trenchard | Why, there’s no mush!
Asa Trenchard | Nary slapjack.
Lord Dundreary | Why, does he want Mary to slap Jack?
Asa Trenchard | No pork and beans!
Lord Dundreary | Pork’s been here, but he’s left.
Asa Trenchard | And where on airth’s the clam chowder?
Lord Dundreary | Where is clam chowder? He’s never here when he’s wanted.

Asa Trenchard

Drinks and spits. Here’s your health, old hoss. Do you call that a drink? See here, cousin, you seem to be the liveliest critter here, so just hurry up the fixins, and I’ll show this benighted aristocratic society what real liquor is. So hurry up the fixins.

All | Fixins?
Florence Trenchard | What do you mean by fixins?
Asa Trenchard | Why, brandy, rum, gin and whiskey. We’ll make them all useful.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, I’ll hurry up the fixins. What fun! Exit, R.
Lord Dundreary | Oh! I thought he meant the gas fixins.

Asa Trenchard

Say, you, you Mr. Puffy, you run out and get me a bunch of mint and a bundle of straws; hurry up, old hoss. Exit Mr. Binny, L. 3 E., indignantly. Say, Mr. Sailor man, just help me down with this table. Oh! don’t you get riley, you and I ran against each other when I came in, but we’ll be friends yet. Harry Vernon helps him with table to C.

Enter Florence Trenchard, followed by servants in livery; they carry a case of decanters and water, on which are seven or eight glasses, two or three tin mixers and a bowl of sugar. Mr. Binny enters with a bunch of mint and a few straws.

Florence Trenchard | Here, cousin, are the fixins.

Asa Trenchard

That’s yer sort. Now then, I’ll give you all a drink that’ll make you squeal. To Mr. Binny. Here, Puffy, just shake that up, faster. I’ll give that sick gal a drink that’ll make her squirm like an eel on a mud bank.

Lord Dundreary | Screams. What a horrible idea. Runs about stage.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, don’t mind him! That’s only an American joke.
Lord Dundreary | A joke! Do you call that a joke? To make a sick girl squirm like a mud bank on an eel’s skin?

Asa Trenchard

Yes, I’ll give you a drink that’ll make your whiskers return under your chin, which is their natural location. Now, ladies and gentlemen, what’ll you have, Whiskey Skin, Brandy Smash, Sherry Cobbler, Mint Julep or Jersey Lightning?

Augusta | Oh, I want a Mint Julep.
Capt. De Boots | Give me a Gin Cocktail.
Florence Trenchard | I’ll take a Sherry Cobbler.
Harry Vernon | Brandy Smash for me.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Give me a Whiskey Skin.
Georgina | I’ll take a Lemonade.
Lord Dundreary | Give me a Jersey Lightning.

Asa Trenchard

Give him a Jersey Lightning. As Lord Dundreary drinks. Warranted to kill at forty rods. Lord Dundreary falls back on Mrs. Mountchessington and Georgina.

| Closed in.

Scene 2

Library in Trenchard Manor. Oriel Window, L. C., with curtains. Two chairs and table brought on at change.

| Enter Mr. Binny and Mr. Coyle, L. 1 E.
Mr. Binny | Sir Hedward will see you directly, Mr. Coyle.
Mr. Coyle | Very well. House full of company, I see, Mr. Binny.
Mr. Binny | Cram full, Mr. Coyle. As one of the first families in the country we must keep up our position.

Mr. Coyle

Rubbing his hands. Certainly, certainly, that is as long as we can, Mr. Binny. Tell Murcott, my clerk, to bring my papers in here. You’ll find him in the servant’s hall, and see that you keep your strong ale out of his way. People who serve me must have their senses about them.

Mr. Binny | Aside. I should say so, or ’e’d ’ave hevery tooth hout in their ’eds, the wiper. Exit, L. 1 E.
Mr. Coyle | And now to show this pompous baronet the precipice on which he stands.
| Enter Murcott, with green bag and papers.
Mr. Coyle | Are you sober, sirrah?
Murcott | Yes, Mr. Coyle.
Mr. Coyle | Then see you keep so.

Abel Murcott

I’ll do my best, sir. But, oh! do tell them to keep liquor out of my way. I can’t keep from it now, try as I will, and I try hard enough, God help me!

Mr. Coyle

Pshaw! Get out those mortgages and the letters from my London agent. Murcott takes papers from bag and places them on table. Mr. Coyle looks off, R. 1 E. So; here comes Sir Edward. Go, but be within call. I may want you to witness a signature.

Abel Murcott | I will sir. Aside. I must have brandy, or my hand will not be steady enough to write. Exit, L. 1 E.
| Enter Sir Edward Trenchard, R. 1 E. Mr. Coyle bows.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Good morning, Mr. Coyle, good morning. With affected ease. There is a chair, Mr. Coyle. They sit. So you see those infernal tradespeople are pretty troublesome.

Mr. Coyle

My agent’s letter this morning announces that Walter and Brass have got judgement and execution on their amount for repairing your town house last season. Refers to papers. Boquet and Barker announce their intention of taking this same course with the wine account. Handmarth is preparing for a settlement of his heavy demand for the stables. Then there is Temper for pictures and other things and Miss Florence Trenchard’s account with Madame Pompon, and—

Sir Edward Trenchard | Confound it, why harass me with details, these infernal particulars? Have you made out the total?
Mr. Coyle | Four thousand, eight hundred and thirty pounds, nine shillings and sixpence.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Well, of course we must find means of settling this extortion.
Mr. Coyle | Yes, Sir Edward, if possible.
Sir Edward Trenchard | If possible?
Mr. Coyle | I, as your agent, must stoop to detail, you must allow me to repeat, if possible.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Why, you don’t say there will be any difficulty in raising the money?
Mr. Coyle | What means would you suggest, Sir Edward.
Sir Edward Trenchard | That, sir, is your business.

Mr. Coyle

A foretaste in the interest on the Fanhille and Ellenthrope mortgages, you are aware both are in the arrears, the mortgagees in fact, write here to announce their intentions to foreclose. Shows papers.

Sir Edward Trenchard | Curse your impudence, pay them off.
Mr. Coyle | How, Sir Edward?
Sir Edward Trenchard | Confound it, sir, which of us is the agent? Am I to find you brains for your own business?
Mr. Coyle | No, Sir Edward, I can furnish the brains, but what I ask of you is to furnish the money.

Sir Edward Trenchard

There must be money somewhere, I came into possession of one of the finest properties in Hampshire only twenty-six years ago, and now you mean to tell me I cannot raise 4,000 pounds?

Mr. Coyle | The fact is distressing, Sir Edward, but so it is.
Sir Edward Trenchard | There’s the Ravensdale property unencumbered.
Mr. Coyle | There, Sir Edward, you are under a mistake. The Ravensdale property is deeply encumbered, to nearly its full value.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Springing up. Good heavens.
Mr. Coyle | I have found among my father’s papers a mortgage of that very property to him.
Sir Edward Trenchard | To your father! My father’s agent?

Mr. Coyle

Yes, bearing date the year after the great contested election for the county, on which the late Sir Edward patriotically spent sixty thousand pounds for the honor of not being returned to Parliament.

Sir Edward Trenchard

A mortgage on the Ravensdale estate. But it must have been paid off, Mr. Coyle, Anxiously have you looked for the release or the receipt?

Mr. Coyle

Neither exists. My father’s sudden death explains sufficiently. I was left in ignorance of the transaction, but the seals on the deed and the stamps are intact, here it is, sir. Shows it.

Sir Edward Trenchard | Sir, do you know that if this be true I am something like a beggar, and your father something like a thief.
Mr. Coyle | I see the first plainly, Sir Edward, but not the second.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Do you forget sir, that your father was a charity boy, fed, clothed by my father?
Mr. Coyle | Well, Sir Edward?
Sir Edward Trenchard | And do you mean to tell me, sir, that your father repaid that kindness by robbing his benefactor?

Mr. Coyle

Certainly not, but by advancing money to that benefactor when he wanted it, and by taking the security of one of his benefactor’s estates, as any prudent man would under the circumstances.

Sir Edward Trenchard | Why, then, sir, the benefactor’s property is yours.

Mr. Coyle

Pardon me, the legal estate you have your equity of redemption. You have only to pay the money and the estate is yours as before.

Sir Edward Trenchard

How dare you, sir, when you have just shown me that I cannot raise five hundred pounds in the world. Oh! Florence, why did I not listen to you when you warned me against this man?

Mr. Coyle | Aside. Oh! she warned you, did she? Aloud. I see one means, at least, of keeping the Ravensdale estate in the family.
Sir Edward Trenchard | What is it?
Mr. Coyle | By marrying your daughter to the mortgagee.
Sir Edward Trenchard | To you?
Mr. Coyle | I am prepared to settle the estate on Miss Trenchard the day she becomes Mrs. Richard Coyle.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Springing up. You insolent scoundrel, how dare you insult me in my own house, sir. Leave it, sir, or I will have you kicked out by my servants.

Mr. Coyle

I never take an angry man at his word, Sir Edward. Give a few moments reflection to my offer, you can have me kicked out afterwards.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Pacing stage. A beggar, Sir Edward Trenchard a beggar, see my children reduced to labor for their bread, to misery perhaps; but the alternative, Florence detests him, still the match would save her, at least, from ruin. He might take the family name, I might retrench, retire, to the continent for a few years. Florence’s health might serve as a pretence. Repugnant as the alternative is, yet it deserves consideration.

Mr. Coyle | Who has watched. Now, Sir Edward, shall I ring for the servants to kick me out?
Sir Edward Trenchard | Nay Mr. Coyle, you must pardon my outburst, you know I am hasty, and—

Florence Trenchard

Without. Papa, dear! Enters gaily, starts on seeing Mr. Coyle. Papa, pardon my breaking in on business, but our American cousin has come, such an original—and we are only waiting for you to escort us to the field.

Sir Edward Trenchard | I will come directly, my love. Mr. Coyle, my dear, you did not see him.
Florence Trenchard | Disdainfully. Oh! yes, I saw him, papa.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Nay, Florence, your hand to Mr. Coyle. Aside. I insist.
Florence Trenchard | Papa. Frightened at his look, gives her hand. Mr. Coyle attempts to kiss it, she snatches it away and crosses to L.

Sir Edward Trenchard

Crosses to L. Come, Florence. Mr. Coyle, we will join you in the park. Come, my love, take my arm. Hurries her off, L. 1 E.

Mr. Coyle

Shallow, selfish fool. She warned you of me did she? And you did not heed her; you shall both pay dearly. She, for her suspicions, and you that you did not share them. Walks up and down. How lucky the seals were not cut from that mortgage, when the release was given. ’Tis like the silly security of the Trenchard’s. This mortgage makes Ravensdale mine, while the release that restores it to its owner lies in the recess of the bureau, whose secret my father revealed to me on his deathbed. Enter Murcott, L. 1 E. Write to the mortgagee of the Fanhill and Ellenthrope estates, to foreclose before the week is out, and tell Walters and Brass to put in execution today. We’ll prick this windbag of a Baronet. Abel, we have both a bone to pick with him and his daughter. Murcott starts. Why, what’s the matter?

Abel Murcott | Nothing, the dizziness I’ve had lately.
Mr. Coyle | Brandy in the evening, brandy in the morning, brandy all night. What a fool you are, Murcott.
Abel Murcott | Who knows that as well as I do?
Mr. Coyle | If you would but keep the money out of your mouth, there’s the making of a man in you yet.

Abel Murcott

No, no, it’s gone too far, it’s gone too far, thanks to the man who owns this house, you know all about it. How he found me a thriving, sober lad, flogging the village children through their spelling book. How he took a fancy to me as he called it, and employed me here to teach his son and Miss Florence. His voice falters. Then remember how I forgot who and what I was, and was cuffed out of the house like a dog. How I lost my school, my good name, but still hung about the place, they all looked askance at me, you don’t know how that kills the heart of a man, then I took to drink and sank down, down, till I came to this.

Mr. Coyle

You owe Sir Edward revenge, do you not? You shall have a rare revenge on him, that mortgage you found last week puts the remainder of the property in my reach, and I close my hand on it unless he will consent to my terms.

Abel Murcott | You can drive a hard bargain. I know.
Mr. Coyle | And a rare price I ask for his forbearance, Abel—his daughter’s hand.
Abel Murcott | Florence?

Mr. Coyle

Yes, Florence marries Richard Coyle. Richard Coyle steps into Sir Edward’s estates. There, you dog, will not that be a rare revenge. So follow me with those papers. Crosses to L. And now to lay the mine that will topple over the pride of the Trenchards. Exit L. 1 E.

Abel Murcott

He marry Florence! Florence Trenchard! My Florence. Mine! Florence his wife. No, no, better a thousand times she had been mine, low as I am, when I dreampt that dream, but it shan’t be, it shan’t be. Tremblingly putting papers in bag. If I can help her, sot though I am. Yes, I can help her, if the shock don’t break me down. Oh! my poor muddled brain, surely there was a release with it when I found it. I must see Florence to warn her and expose Mr. Coyle’s villainy. Oh! how my poor head throbs when I try to. I shall die if I don’t have a drop of brandy, yes brandy. Exit, L. 1 E.

Scene 3

Chamber in 3. at Trenchard Manor. Large shower bath near R. 3 E. Toilet table with draw, L. 2 E. Small bottle in draw with red sealing wax on cork.

Asa Trenchard discovered seated, R. with foot on table, smoking a cigar. Valise on floor in front of him. Mr. Binny discovered standing by his side.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I guess I begin to feel kinder comfortable here in this place, if it wan’t for this tarnal fat critter. He don’t seem to have any work to do, but swells out his big bosom like an old turkey-cock in laying time. I do wonder what he’s here for? Do they think I mean to absquatulate with the spoons? Mr. Binny attempts to take valise—Asa Trenchard puts his foot on it. Let that sweat. That’s my plunder.

Mr. Binny | Will you have the kindness to give me your keys, hif you please, sir?
Asa Trenchard | What do you want with my keys?
Mr. Binny | To put your things away in the wardrobe, sir.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I calculate if my two shirts, three bosoms, four collars, and two pair of socks were to get into that everlasting big bunk, they’d think themselves so all-fired small I should never be able to crawl into them again.

Mr. Binny | Will you take a baath before you dress?
Asa Trenchard | Take a baath?
Mr. Binny | A baath.

Asa Trenchard

I suppose you mean a bath. Wal, man, I calkalate I ain’t going to expose myself to the shakes by getting into cold water in this cruel cold climate of yours, so make tracks.

Mr. Binny | Make what?
Asa Trenchard | Vamose!
Mr. Binny | Make vamose!
Asa Trenchard | Absquatulate.
Mr. Binny | Ab—what sir?
Asa Trenchard | Skedaddle.
Mr. Binny | Skedaddle?
Asa Trenchard | Oh! get out.
Mr. Binny | Oh! Going. If you are going to dress you’ll want some hassistance.
Asa Trenchard | Assistance! what to get out of my unmentionables and into them again? Wal, ’spose I do, what then?
Mr. Binny | Just ring the bell, hi’ll hattend you.

Asa Trenchard

All right, come along. Mr. Binny going. Hold on, say, I may want to yawn presently and I shall want somebody to shut my mouth. Mr. Binny hurries off, L. 1 E. Wal, now I am alone, I can look about me and indulge the enquiring spirit of an American citizen. What an everlasting lot of things and fixins there is to be sure. Opens table draw. Here’s a place will hold my plunder beautifully. Sees bottle. Hallo, what’s this? Comes down. Something good to drink. Smells bottle. It smells awful bad. Reads label. Golden Fluid, one application turns the hair a beautiful brown, several applications will turn the hair a lustrous black. Well, if they keep on it may turn a pea green. I reckon this has been left here by some fellow who is ashamed of the natural color of his top knot. Knock. Come in.

| Enter Mr. Binny, L. 1 E.
Mr. Binny | Mr. Buddicombe, sir, my lord’s hown man.
Asa Trenchard | Roll him in. Mr. Binny beckons, enter Mr. Buddicombe. Turkey cock number two, what is it?
Mr. Buddicombe | My Lord Dundreary’s compliments and have you seen a small bottle in the toilet table drawer?
Asa Trenchard | Suppose I had, what then?
Mr. Buddicombe | My lord wants it particly.
Asa Trenchard | Was it a small bottle?
Mr. Buddicombe | A small bottle.
Mr. Binny | Bottle small.
Asa Trenchard | Blue label?
Mr. Binny | Label blue.
Asa Trenchard | Red sealing wax on the top?
Mr. Buddicombe | Red sealing wax.
Mr. Binny | Wax red.
Asa Trenchard | Nice little bottle?
Mr. Binny | Little bottle nice.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I ain’t seen it. Aside. If my lord sets a valley on it, guess it must be worth something.
Mr. Buddicombe | Sorry to trouble you, sir.
Mr. Binny | Aside to Mr. Buddicombe. What his hit?
Mr. Buddicombe | My lord’s hair dye, the last bottle, and he turns red tomorrow. Exit in haste.
Mr. Binny | Orrable, what an hawful situation, to be sure.
Asa Trenchard | Aside. So I’ve got my ring on that lord’s nose, and if I don’t make him dance to my tune it’s a pity.
Mr. Binny | Miss Florence begged me to say she had borrowed a costume for you, for the harchery meeting, sir.
Asa Trenchard | Hain’t you dropped something?
Mr. Binny | Where?
Asa Trenchard | What do you mean by the harchery meeting?
Mr. Binny | Where they shoot with bows and harrows.

Asa Trenchard

There goes another of them, oh! you need’nt look for them, you can’t find ’em when you want ’em. Now you just take my compliments to Miss Trenchard when I goes out shooting with injurious weapons I always wears my own genuine shooting costume. That’s the natural buff tipped off with a little red paint.

Mr. Binny | Good gracious, he’d look like Hadam and Heve, in the garden of Eden. Exit Mr. Binny.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, there’s a queer lot of fixings. Sees shower bath. What on airth is that? Looks like a ’skeeter net, only it ain’t long enough for a feller to lay down in unless he was to coil himself up like a woodchuck in a knot hole. I’d just like to know what the all-fired thing is meant for. Calls. Say Puffy, Puffy, Oh! he told me if I wanted him to ring the bell. Looks round room. Where on airth is the bell? Slips partly inside shower bath, pulls rope, water comes down. Murder! help! fire! Water! I’m drown.

Enter Skillet, Sharpe, R. 1 E. Mr. Binny, Mr. Buddicombe, L. 1 E., seeing Asa Trenchard, all laugh, and keep it up till curtain falls.

Curtain.

Act
II

Scene 1

Oriel Chamber in one.

| Enter Mrs. Mountchessington and Augusta, L. 1 E., dressed for Archery Meeting.

Mrs. Mountchessington

No, my dear Augusta, you must be very careful. I don’t by any means want you to give up De Boots, his expectations are excellent, but, pray be attentive to this American savage, as I rather think he will prove the better match of the two, if what I hear of Mark Trenchard’s property be correct.

Augusta | Disdainfully. Yes, ma.
Mrs. Mountchessington | And look more cheerful, my love.
Augusta | I am so tired, ma, of admiring things I hate.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Yes, my poor love, yet we must all make sacrifices to society. Look at your poor sister, with the appetite.
Augusta | What am I to be enthusiastic about with that American, Ma?

Mrs. Mountchessington

Oh! I hardly know yet, my dear. We must study him. I think if you read up Sam Slick a little, it might be useful, and just dip into Bancroft’s History of the United States, or some of Russell’s Letters; you should know something of George Washington, of whom the Americans are justly proud.

Augusta | Here he comes, ma. What a ridiculous figure he looks in that dress, ha! ha!
Mrs. Mountchessington | Hush, my dear!
| Enter Asa Trenchard, in Archery Dress.
Augusta | Oh, Mr. Trenchard, why did you not bring me one of those lovely Indian’s dresses of your boundless prairie?
Mrs. Mountchessington | Yes, one of those dresses in which you hunt the buffalo.
Augusta | Extravagantly. Yes, in which you hunt the buffalo.

Asa Trenchard

Imitating. In which I hunt the buffalo. Aside. Buffaloes down in Vermont. Aloud. Wal, you see, them dresses are principally the nateral skin, tipped off with paint, and the indians object to parting with them.

Both | Ahem! ahem!
Asa Trenchard | The first buffalo I see about here I shall hunt up for you.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Oh, you Americans are so clever, and so acute.
Augusta | Yes, so ’cute.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, we’re ’cute, we are; know soft solder when we see it.
Augusta | Aside. Ma, I do believe he’s laughing at us.

Mrs. Mountchessington

Oh, no, my dear, you are mistaken. Oh! I perceive they are appearing for the archery practice. I suppose we shall see you on the ground, Mr. Trenchard.

Asa Trenchard | Yes, I’ll be there like a thousand of brick.
Augusta | A thousand of brick!
Mrs. Mountchessington | Hush, my dear! that is doubtless some elegant American expression. Au revoir, Mr. Trenchard.
Asa Trenchard | Which?
Mrs. Mountchessington | Au revoir. Exit with Augusta, R.

Asa Trenchard

No, thank you, don’t take any before dinner. No use their talking Dutch to me. Wal, I never see an old gal stand fire like that, she’s a real old bison bull. I feel all-fired tuckered out riding in those keers. I’d like to have a snooze if I could find a place to lay down in. Sees curtain on window, L. E. Oh, this might do! Pulls curtain, then starts back. No you don’t! One shower bath a day is enough for me. Cautiously opens them. No, I guess this is all right, I shall be just as snug in here as in a pew at meeting, or a private box at the Theatre. Hello! somebody’s coming. Goes into recess.

| Enter Lord Dundreary and Mr. Buddicombe, L. 1 E.
Mr. Buddicombe | My lord—
Lord Dundreary | Business.
Mr. Buddicombe | My lord!
Lord Dundreary | Business.
Mr. Buddicombe | Your lordship!! Louder.
Lord Dundreary | There, now you’ve spoiled it.
Mr. Buddicombe | Spoiled what, my lord?
Lord Dundreary | Spoiled what, my lord; why, a most magnificent sneeze!
Mr. Buddicombe | I am very sorry, my lord.
Lord Dundreary | Now that I can speak alone with you, tell me about that hair dye. Have you found it?
Mr. Buddicombe | Not a trace of it, my lord.
Lord Dundreary | If you don’t find it, I’ll discharge you.
Mr. Buddicombe | Very well, my lord. Bows and exits, L. 1 E.

Lord Dundreary

Very well, my lord! He’s gone and lost my hair dye, and my hair turns red tomorrow, and when I ask him to find it for me or I’ll discharge him, he says, ‘Very well, my lord.’ He’s positively idiotic, he is—Ah! here comes Miss Georgina, that gorgeous creature—that lovely sufferer. Exit, L. 1 E.

Asa Trenchard | Looking out. What’s the price of hair dye? Hallo! he’s coming again with that sick girl.
| Re-enter Lord Dundreary and Georgina, L. 1 E.
Lord Dundreary | Will you try and strengthen your limbs with a gentle walk in the garden?

Georgina

No, thank you, my lord. I’m so delicate. Oh, my lord, it is so painful to walk languidly through life, to be unable, at times, to bear the perfumes of one’s favorite flowers. Even those violets you sent me yesterday I was compelled to have removed from my room, the perfume was too strong for me. I’m so delicate.

Lord Dundreary | Yes, Miss Georgina; but they’re very strengthening flowers, you know.
Georgina | Yes, my lord, you are always right.
Lord Dundreary | Do you know I’m getting to be very robust?
Georgina | Would I could share that fault with you; but I am so delicate.

Lord Dundreary

If you were robust I should not love you as I do. It would deprive you of that charm which enchains me to your lovely side, which—which—

Georgina | Oh, my lord, my lord! I’m going to faint.
Lord Dundreary | And I’m going to sneeze, you faint while I sneeze.
Georgina | Taking his arm. Oh! my lord.
Lord Dundreary | Do you know what a sneeze is?
Georgina | No, my lord.
Lord Dundreary | She never sneezed. I’ll tell you what a sneeze is. Imagine a very large spider.
Georgina | Screams. Where, my lord?

Lord Dundreary

No, no, I don’t mean a real spider, only an imaginary one, a large spider getting up your nose, and all of a sudden, much to his disgust, he discovers he has put his foot in it and can’t get it out again.

Georgina | That must be very distressing.
Lord Dundreary | For the spider, yes, and not very pleasant for the nose.
Georgina | Oh! my lord, do take me to mamma.
Lord Dundreary | No, you lovely sufferer, let’s walk a little more.
Georgina | I can’t my lord, I’m so delicate.
Lord Dundreary | Well, then, exercise, imitate that little hop of mine. Hops. It isn’t a run, it’s a—
Georgina | What is it?

Lord Dundreary

No, it isn’t a what is it. Well, let me suppose I get you an oyster. Georgina shakes her head. Oh! then suppose I get you an oyster.

Georgina | No, my lord, I’m too delicate.
Lord Dundreary | How would you like the left wing of a canary bird?
Georgina | No, my lord, it’s too strong for me.

Lord Dundreary

Let me ask you a widdle—why does a duck go under water? for divers reasons. Now I’ll give you another—why does a duck come out of the water? for sundry reasons. No! No! see, you live on suction, you’re like that bird with a long bill, they call doctor, no, that’s not it, I thought it was a doctor, because it has a long bill—I mean a snipe—yes, you’re a lovely snipe. Exeunt, R.

Asa Trenchard | Looking after them. There goes a load of wooden nutmegs. Hello, here comes somebody else.
| Enter Florence Trenchard, R., with paper.

Florence Trenchard

Reads. “One who still remembers what he ought long since to have forgotten, wishes to speak with Miss Trenchard.” Florence scratched out, “on matters of life and death, near the orel, in the west gallery.” Written upon a dirty sheet of paper, in a hardly legible hand. What does this mean; it opens like one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances. Well, here I am, and now for my correspondent.

| Enter Abel Murcott, L.
Abel Murcott | Oh! for one minute’s clear head, Miss Florence.
Florence Trenchard | I presume you are the writer of this?
Abel Murcott | Yes, I am.
Florence Trenchard | You address me as an old acquaintance, but I do not recognize you.
Abel Murcott | So much the better. So much the better.
Florence Trenchard | I hate mystery, sir; but you see I have come to rendezvous. I must know to whom I am speaking.
Abel Murcott | As frank as ever. I am Abel Murcott.
Florence Trenchard | Starting back! You?

Abel Murcott

Do not be ashamed, I have not the strength to injure you, if I had the evil. In this shabby, broken down drunkard you need not fear the madman, who years ago forgot in his frantic passion the gulf that lay between your station and his own. I am harmless except to myself.

Florence Trenchard | Speak on, sir; I hear you.

Abel Murcott

I need not tell you by what steps I came to this, you don’t know, maybe you never knew, what a maddening thing a passion is when it turns against itself. After being expelled from my tutorship in this house, I lost my employment, self-respect, hope. I sought to drown recollection and draw courage from drink. It only embittered remembrances, and destroyed the little courage I had left. That I have bread to eat, I owe to Mr. Coyle; he employed me as his clerk. You know he has been with your father this morning. I have come to tell you my errand; are you as brave as you used to be when I knew—

Florence Trenchard | I fear nothing.
Abel Murcott | I come to tell you of your father’s ruin, his utter ruin.
Florence Trenchard | My father’s ruin? What? What?

Abel Murcott

His estates are mortgaged, his creditors clamorous. The Bailiffs will be in Trenchard Manor today, disguised as your own servants. This much Mr. Coyle has conceded to your father’s respect for appearances.

Florence Trenchard | Then beggary stares him in the face. Poor father, what a sad blow for him. Is that all, sir?
Abel Murcott | No; the worst remains.
Florence Trenchard | Go on, sir.

Abel Murcott

Mr. Coyle knows your father’s weakness and as a means of escape from ruin to the verge of which he has brought him, he has this day proposed for your hand.

Florence Trenchard | Mine!
Abel Murcott | On consideration of settling on you the Ravensdale Estate.
Florence Trenchard | And my father, how did he listen to such insolence?

Abel Murcott

You know as well as I do how he would hear such a proposal, at first a torrent of rage, then the strong ebb of selfishness set in, and he consented to listen to the terms, to view them as something to be considered, to consider them.

Florence Trenchard | Good Heavens, can this be true? No, I will not believe it of my father, and from such lips.

Abel Murcott

You have full right to think this and to say it, but mark your father and Mr. Coyle today. You will then see if I speak truth or not.

Florence Trenchard | Forgive my distrust, Mr. Murcott.

Abel Murcott

I am past taking offence or feeling scorn, I have carried more than can be heaped upon me, but I did not come only to give you warning of your danger.

Florence Trenchard | Can you avert it?
Asa Trenchard | Coming down between them. Wal, stranger that’s just the question I was going to ask.
Florence Trenchard | You here, sir, and listening.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, it wasn’t purpose, I went in there to take a snooze, I heard you talking and I thought it wouldn’t be polite of me not to listen to what you had to say. I’m a rough sort of a customer, and don’t know much about the ways of great folks. But I’ve got a cool head, a stout arm, and a willing heart, and I think I can help you, just as one cousin ought to help another.

Florence Trenchard | Well, I do think you are honest.
Abel Murcott | Shall I go on?
Florence Trenchard | Yes, we will trust him, go on.

Abel Murcott

I found the Ravensdale mortgage while rumaging in an old deed box of Mr. Coyle’s father’s, there was a folded paper inside the deed. I took both to Mr. Coyle unopened, like a besotted fool that I was. My belief is strong that the paper was the release of the mortgage that the money had been paid off, and the release executed without the seals having been cut from the original mortgage. I have known such things happen.

Asa Trenchard | Have ye, now? Well, if a Yankee lawyer had done such a thing he would have Judge Lynch after him in no time.
Abel Murcott | You can but find that release, we may unmask this diabolical fiend and save you.
Florence Trenchard | But, surely, a villain of Mr. Coyle’s stability would have destroyed the paper, the very keystone of his fraud.
Abel Murcott | I fear so.

Asa Trenchard

Do you, now, wal, you’re wrong, you’re both wrong. I guess you ain’t either on you done much ciphering human nature. The keystone of their fraud is just the point your mighty cute rascals always leave unsecured. Come along with me, stranger, and we’ll just work up this sum a little, two heads are better than one. Yours is a little muddled, but mine’s pretty clear, and if I don’t circumvent that old sarpint, Mr. Coyle—

Florence Trenchard | Well?
Asa Trenchard | Say I am a skunk, that’s all, and that’s the meanest kind of an animal. Exit L. 1 E.
Florence Trenchard | I owe you much, Mr. Murcott, more than I can ever repay.

Abel Murcott

No, no, no, if you did but know the hope of seeing you has roused all the manhood that drink and misery has left me. God bless you, Miss Florence.

Florence Trenchard | No, you don’t call me Florence as you did when I was the truant pupil and you the indulgent tutor. Offers her hand.

Abel Murcott

No, no; for heaven’s sake do not call back that time or I shall go mad! mad! mad. Rushes off, L. 1 E., followed by Florence Trenchard.

Scene 2

Park in 4. Rural cottage, L. 1 E., adjoining which, and projecting on stage an inside view of a dairy with sloping roof, painting backing to look like milk pans. The whole scene should have a picturesque appearance. Garden fence run across back, ornamental gate or archway, R. 3 E. Pigeon house on pole near dairy, L. C. Spinning wheel inside cottage door, one or two rustic benches, R. and L.

| Enter John Wickens, R. 3 E, with two milk pails on a yoke, puts them down near dairy, then looks off, R. 3 E.

John Wickens

There they go, that’s a bull’s eye, I warrant. Dang me though, if I wouldn’t rather see Miss Mary than this cock robin sports yonder, here she comes. Good morning, Miss Mary. Enter Mary from cottage L.

Mary

Oh, Wickens, you are there. How kind of you to help me with the milk pails today, when all the lads and lasses have given themselves a holiday to see the shooting.

John Wickens | Ah, Miss Mary, you ought to be among then, with a green hat and feather, if all had their rights.

Mary

Laughing. Nay, ladies without a farthing in the world, ought to put aside their ladyships and make themselves: besides I’m proud of my dairy here, just help me with this troublesome fellow, steady, don’t shake it, the cream is foaming so beautifully. There. John Wickens carries pan into cottage and returns down, R.

John Wickens | Now, Miss Mary, what can I do for you?
Mary | Let me see; well, really, I do believe, Wickens, I’ve nothing to do but amuse myself.
John Wickens | Dang it, Miss, that’s a pity, cos I can’t help you at that, you see.

Mary

Oh! Yes, bring me out dear old Welsh nurse’s spinning wheel Exit John Wickens into cottage, L. 2 E. by the side of which I have stood so often, a round-eyed baby wondering at its whirring wheel. Reenter John Wickens with wheel, places it near cottage, L. 2 E. There, that will do famously. I can catch the full scent of the jessamines.

John Wickens | R. C. Anything more, Miss Mary?
Mary | No, thank you, Wickens!
John Wickens | Going. Good morning, Miss Mary.
Mary | Good morning, Wickens.
John Wickens | Returning. Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Mary?
Mary | Spinning. Nothing, thank you.

John Wickens

Dang me if I wouldn’t like to stop all day, and watch her pretty figure and run errands for her. Exit R. 3 E., crosses behind fence.

Mary

Poor Wickens is not the only one who thinks I am a very ill-used young body. Now I don’t think so. Grandfather was rich, but he must have had a bad heart, or he never could have cast off poor mamma; had he adopted me, I should never have been so happy as I am now, uncle is kind to me in his pompous, patronizing way, and dear Florence loves me like a sister, and so I am happy. I am my own mistress here, and not anybody’s humble servant, I sometimes find myself singing as the birds do, because I can’t help it Song, “Maid with the Milking Pail,” can be introduced here.

| Enter Florence Trenchard and Asa Trenchard through gate, R. 3 E.

Florence Trenchard

Come along, cousin, come along. I want to introduce you to my little cousin. Kisses Mary. I’ve brought you a visitor, Miss Mary Meredith, Mr. Asa Trenchard, our American cousin. They shake hands. That will do for the present. This young gentleman has carried off the prize by three successive shots in the bull’s eye.

Mary | I congratulate you, sir, and am happy to see you.
Asa Trenchard | Shakes hands again. Thank you, Miss.
Florence Trenchard | That will do for a beginning.
Asa Trenchard | Aside. And so that is Mark Trenchard’s grandchild.
Mary | Why have you left the archery, Florence?

Florence Trenchard

Because, after Mr. Asa Trenchard’s display, I felt in no humor for shooting, and I have some very grave business with my cousin here.

Mary

You? Grave business? Why I thought you never had any graver business than being very pretty, very amiable, and very ready to be amused.

Asa Trenchard | Wal, Miss, I guess the first comes natural round these diggins. Bows.

Mary

You are very polite. This is my domain, sir, and I shall be happy to show you, that is, if you understand anything about a dairy.

Florence Trenchard | Yes, by the way, do you understand anything about dairies in America?

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I guess I do know something about cow juice. They turn to smother laugh. Why, if it ain’t all as bright and clean as a fresh washed shirt just off the clover, and is this all your doin’s, Miss?

Mary | Yes, sir, I milk the cows, set up the milk, superintend the churning and make the cheese.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, darn me if you ain’t the first raal right down useful gal I’ve seen on this side the pond.
Florence Trenchard | What’s that, sir? Do you want to make me jealous?

Asa Trenchard

Oh, no, you needn’t get your back up, you are the right sort too, but you must own you’re small potatoes, and few in a hill compared to a gal like that.

Florence Trenchard | I’m what?
Asa Trenchard | Small potatoes.
Florence Trenchard | Will you be kind enough to translate that for me, for I don’t understand American yet.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, I’ll put it in French for you, petite pommes des terres.
Florence Trenchard | Ah, it’s very clear now; but, cousin, do tell me what you mean by calling me small potatoes.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, you can sing and paint, and play on the pianner, and in your own particular circle you are some pumpkins.
Florence Trenchard | Some pumpkins, first I am small potatoes, and now I’m some pumpkins.

Asa Trenchard

But she, she can milk cows, set up the butter, make cheese, and, darn me, if them ain’t what I call raal downright feminine accomplishments.

Florence Trenchard | I do believe you are right cousin, so Mary do allow me to congratulate you upon not being small potatoes.

Mary

Well, I must look to my dairy or all my last week’s milk will be spoiled. Goodbye, Florence, dear. Goodbye, Mr. Trenchard. Good morning, sir. Exit into Cottage.

Asa Trenchard | Following her to door. Good morning, Miss. I’ll call again.
Florence Trenchard | Well, cousin, what do you think of her?
Asa Trenchard | Ain’t she a regular snorter?
Florence Trenchard | A what?

Asa Trenchard

Wal, perhaps I should make myself more intelligable, if I said, a squeeler, and to think I’m keepin’ that everlasting angel of a gal out of her fortune all along of this bit of paper here.Takes paper from pocket.

Florence Trenchard | What is that?
Asa Trenchard | Old Mark Trenchard’s will.

Florence Trenchard

Don’t show it to me, I don’t want to look at it, the fortune should have come to Mary, she is the only relation in the direct line.

Asa Trenchard | Say, cousin, you’ve not told her that darned property was left to me, have you?
Florence Trenchard | Do you think I had the heart to tell her of her misfortune?
Asa Trenchard | Wal, darn me, if you didn’t show your good sense at any rate. Goes up to dairy.
Florence Trenchard | Well, what are you doing, showing your good sense?
Asa Trenchard | Oh, you go long.
Florence Trenchard | Say, cousin, I guess I’ve got you on a string now, as I heard you say this morning.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, what if you have, didn’t I see you casting sheep’s eyes at that sailor man this morning? Ah, I reckon I’ve got you on a string now. Say, has he got that ship yet?

Florence Trenchard

No, he hasn’t, though I’ve used all my powers of persuasion with that Lord Dundreary, and his father has so much influence with the admiralty.

Asa Trenchard | Wal, din’t he drop like a smoked possum?
Florence Trenchard | There you go, more American. No, he said he was very sorry, but he couldn’t.
Asa Trenchard | Taking bottle out. Oh, he did, did he? Wal, I guess he’ll do his best all the same.
Florence Trenchard | I shall be missed at the archery grounds. Will you take me back?
Asa Trenchard | Like a streak of lightning. Offers arm and takes her to dairy.
Florence Trenchard | That’s not the way.
Asa Trenchard | No, of course not. Takes her round stage back to dairy.
Florence Trenchard | Well, but where are you going now?
Asa Trenchard | I was just going round. I say, cousin, don’t you think you could find your way back alone.
Florence Trenchard | Why, what do you want to do?
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I just wanted to see how they make cheese is this darned country. Exits into dairy.
Florence Trenchard | Laughing. And they call that man a savage; well, I only wish we had a few more such savages in England.
Lord Dundreary | Without, R. 2 E. This way, lovely sufferer.
Florence Trenchard | Ah, here’s Dundreary.
| Lord Dundreary enters with Georgina, places her in rustic chair, R.
Lord Dundreary | There, repothe yourself.
Georgina | Thank you, my lord; you are so kind to me, and I am so delicate.
Florence Trenchard | Yes, you look delicate, dear; how is she this morning, any better?
Lord Dundreary | When she recovers, she’ll be better.
Florence Trenchard | I’m afraid you don’t take good care of her, you are so rough.
Lord Dundreary | No, I’m not wruff, either. Sings. I’m gentle and I’m kind, I’m—I forget the rest
Florence Trenchard | Well, good morning, dear—do take care of her—good day, Dundreary. Exit through gate.
Lord Dundreary | Now, let me administer to your wants. How would you like a roast chestnut?
Georgina | No, my lord, I’m too delicate.
Lord Dundreary | Well, then, a peanut; there is a great deal of nourishment in peanuts.
Georgina | No, thank you.
Lord Dundreary | Then what can I do for you?
Georgina | If you please, ask the dairy maid to let me have a seat in the dairy. I am afraid of the draft, here.

Lord Dundreary

Oh! you want to get out of the draft, do you? Well, you’re not the only one that wants to escape the draft. Is that the dairy on top of that stick? Points to pigeon house.

Georgina | No, my lord, that’s the pigeon house.

Lord Dundreary

What do they keep in pigeon houses? Oh! pigeons, to be sure; they couldn’t keep donkeys up there, could they? That’s the dairy, I suppothe?

Georgina | Yes, my lord.
Lord Dundreary | What do they keep in dairies?
Georgina | Eggs, milk, butter and cheese.

Lord Dundreary

What’s the name of that animal with a head on it? No, I don’t mean that, all animals have heads. I mean those animals with something growing out of their heads.

Georgina | A cow?
Lord Dundreary | A cow growing out of his head?
Georgina | No, no, horns.

Lord Dundreary

A cow! well, that accounts for the milk and butter; but I don’t see the eggs; cows don’t give eggs; then there’s the cheese—do you like cheese?

Georgina | No, my lord.
Lord Dundreary | Does your brother like cheese?
Georgina | I have no brother. I’m so delicate.
Lord Dundreary | She’s so delicate, she hasn’t got a brother. Well, if you had a brother do you think he’d like cheese?
Georgina | I don’t know; do please take me to the dairy.
Lord Dundreary | Well, I will see if I can get you a broiled sardine. Exit into dairy.

Georgina

Jumps up. Oh! I’m so glad he’s gone. I am so dreadful hungry. I should like a plate of corn beef and cabbage, eggs and bacon, or a slice of cold ham and pickles.

Lord Dundreary | Outside. Thank you, thank you.
Georgina | Running back to seat. Here he comes. Oh! I am so delicate.
| Enter Lord Dundreary.

Lord Dundreary

I beg you pardon, Miss Georgina, but I find upon enquiry that cows don’t give sardines. But I’ve arranged it with the dairy maid so that you can have a seat by the window that overlooks the cow house and the pig sty, and all the pretty things.

Georgina | I’m afraid I’m very troublesome.
Lord Dundreary | Yes, you’re very troublesome, you are. No, I mean you’re a lovely sufferer, that’s the idea. They go up to cottage door.
| Enter Asa Trenchard, running against Lord Dundreary.
Lord Dundreary | There’s that damned rhinoceros again. Exit into cottage, with Georgina.

Asa Trenchard

There goes that benighted aristocrat and that little toad of a sick gal. Looks off. There he’s a settling her in a chair and covering her all over with shawls. Ah! it’s a caution, how these women do fix our flint for us. Here he comes. Takes out bottle. How are you, hair dye. Goes behind dairy.

| Enter Lord Dundreary.

Lord Dundreary

That lovely Georgina puts me in mind of that beautiful piece of poetry. Let me see how it goes. The rose is red, the violet’s blue. Asa Trenchard tips his hat over his eyes.

Lord Dundreary | Repeats.
Asa Trenchard | Repeats business.

Lord Dundreary

Comes down, takes off hat, looking in it. There must be something alive in that hat. Goes up, and commences again. The rose is red, the violet’s blue, sugar is sweet, and so is somebody, and so is somebody else.

| Asa Trenchard puts yoke on Lord Dundreary’s shoulders gently. Lord Dundreary comes down with pails.

Lord Dundreary

I wonder what the devil that is? Lowers one, then the other, they trip him up. Oh, I see, somebody has been fishing and caught a pail. Goes hopping upstage, stumbling over against spinning wheel. Looks at yarn on stick. Why, what a little old man. Sees Asa Trenchard. Say, Mr. Exile, what the devil is this?

Asa Trenchard | That is a steam engine, and will bust in about a minute.

Lord Dundreary

Well, I haven’t a minute to spare, so I’ll not wait till it busts. Crosses to R., knocks against private box, R. H., apologizes.

Asa Trenchard | Say, whiskers, I want to ask a favor of you.
Lord Dundreary | Attempts to sneeze. Now I’ve got it.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, but say. Lord Dundreary’s sneezing business.
Asa Trenchard | Takes his hand. How are you. Squeezes it.
Lord Dundreary | There, you’ve spoiled it.
Asa Trenchard | Spoiled what?
Lord Dundreary | Spoiled what! why a magnificent sneeze.
Asa Trenchard | Oh! was that what you was trying to get through you?
Lord Dundreary | Get through me: he’s mad.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, now, the naked truth is—Leans arm on Lord Dundreary’s shoulder. Business by Lord Dundreary. Oh, come now, don’t be putting on airs. Say, do you know Lieutenant Vernon?

Lord Dundreary | Slightly.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, what do you think of him, on an average?
Lord Dundreary | Think of a man on an average?
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I think he’s a real hoss, and he wants a ship.
Lord Dundreary | Well if he’s a real hoss, he must want a carriage.
Asa Trenchard | Darn me, if that ain’t good.
Lord Dundreary | That’s good.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, that is good.
Lord Dundreary | Very good.
Asa Trenchard | Very good, indeed, for you.
Lord Dundreary | Now I’ve got it. Tries to sneeze.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, now, I say. Lord Dundreary trying to sneeze.
Asa Trenchard | What, are you at that again?

Lord Dundreary business. Asa Trenchard bites his finger. Lord Dundreary goes up, stumbles against chair and comes down again.

Lord Dundreary | I’ve got the influenza.
Asa Trenchard | Got the what?
Lord Dundreary | He says I’ve got a wart. I’ve got the influenza.
Asa Trenchard | That’s it exactly. I want your influence, sir, to get that ship.
Lord Dundreary | That’s good.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, that’s good, ain’t it.
Lord Dundreary | Very good.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, darn me, if that ain’t good.
Lord Dundreary | For you. Ha! ha! One on that Yankee.
Asa Trenchard | Well done, Britisher. Wal, now, about that ship?
Lord Dundreary | I want all my influence, sir, for my own w—w—welations. Stammering.
Asa Trenchard | Oh! you want it for your own w—w—welations. Mimicing.
Lord Dundreary | I say, sir. Asa Trenchard pretends deafness. This business is ad lib.
Asa Trenchard | Eh?
Lord Dundreary | He’s hard of hearing, and thinks he’s in a balloon. Mister.
Asa Trenchard | Eh?
Lord Dundreary | He thinks he can hear with his nose. I say—
Asa Trenchard | Eh?

Lord Dundreary turns Asa Trenchard’s nose around with his thumb. Asa Trenchard puts his two hands up to Lord Dundreary’s.

Lord Dundreary | Now he thinks he’s a musical instrument. I say—
Asa Trenchard | What?
Lord Dundreary | You stutter. I’ll give you a k—k—k—
Asa Trenchard | No you won’t give me a kick.
Lord Dundreary | I’ll give you a c—c—card to a doctor and he’ll c—c—c—
Asa Trenchard | No he won’t kick me, either.
Lord Dundreary | He’s idiotic. I don’t mean that, he’ll cure you.
Asa Trenchard | Same one that cured you?
Lord Dundreary | The same.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, if you’re cured I want to stay sick. He must be a mighty smart man.
Lord Dundreary | A very clever man, he is.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, darn me, if there ain’t a physiological change taking place. Your whiskers at this moment—
Lord Dundreary | My whiskers!
Asa Trenchard | Yes, about the ends they’re as black as a niggers in billing time, and near the roots they’re all speckled and streaked.
Lord Dundreary | Horror struck. My whiskers speckled and streaked?
Asa Trenchard | Showing bottle. Now, this is a wonderful invention.
Lord Dundreary | My hair dye. My dear sir.
Asa Trenchard | Squeezing his hand. How are you?
Lord Dundreary | Dear Mr. Trenchard.

Puts arm on shoulder. Asa Trenchard repeats Lord Dundreary business, putting on eyeglass, hopping round the stage and stroking whiskers.

Lord Dundreary | He’s mad, he’s deaf, he squints, stammers and he’s a hopper.
Asa Trenchard | Now, look here, you get the Lieutenant a ship and I’ll give you the bottle. It’s a fine swap.
Lord Dundreary | What the devil is a swap?
Asa Trenchard | Well, you give me the ship, and I’ll give you the bottle to boot.
Lord Dundreary | What do I want of your boots? I haven’t got a ship about me.
Asa Trenchard | You’d better make haste or your whiskers will be changed again. They’ll be a pea green in about a minute.
Lord Dundreary | Crosses to L. Pea green! Exits hastily into house.

Asa Trenchard

I guess I’ve got a ring in his nose now. I wonder how that sick gal is getting along? Wal, darn me, if the dying swallow ain’t pitching into ham and eggs and homemade bread, wal, she’s a walking into the fodder like a farmer arter a day’s work rail splitting. I’ll just give her a start. How de do, Miss, allow me to congratulate you on the return of your appetite. Georgina scream. Guess I’ve got a ring in her pretty nose now. Looks off, R. Hello! here comes the lickers and shooters, it’s about time I took my medicine, I reckon.

Enter, from R. 2. E, Sir Edward Trenchard, Mrs. Mountchessington, Florence Trenchard, Harry Vernon, Augusta, Capt. De Boots, John Wickens, Mr. Coyle, Sharpe, Mr. Binny, Skillet, Mr. Buddicombe, two servants in livery, carrying tray and glasses, a wine basket containing four bottles to represent champagne, knife to cut strings, some powerful acid in one bottle for Asa Trenchard—pop sure.

Sir Edward Trenchard | Now to distribute the prizes, and drink to the health of the winner of the golden arrow.
Florence Trenchard | And there must stand the hero of the day. Come, kneel down.
Asa Trenchard | Must I kneel down?
Florence Trenchard | I am going to crown you Captain of the Archers of Trenchard Manor.
Asa Trenchard | Aside to Florence Trenchard. I’ve got the ship.
Florence Trenchard | No; have you?
Sir Edward Trenchard | Come, ladies and gentlemen, take from me. Takes glasses, Starts on seeing men in livery. Who are these strange faces?
Mr. Coyle | In his ear. Bailiffs, Sir Edward.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Bailiffs! Florence I am lost.

Florence Trenchard supports her father. At the same moment Lord Dundreary enters with letter and money. Georgina appears at dairy door as Lord Dundreary comes down, L. Asa Trenchard cuts string of bottle, cork hits Lord Dundreary. General commotion as drop descends.

Act
III

Scene 1

Dairy set as before in Act 2nd, Scene 2.

| Asa Trenchard discovered on bench, R. C., whittling stick. Mary busy with milk pans in dairy.
Asa Trenchard | Miss Mary, I wish you’d leave off those everlasting dairy fixings, and come and take a hand of chat along with me.
Mary | What, and leave my work? Why, when you first came here, you thought I could not be too industrious.

Asa Trenchard

Well, I think so yet, Miss Mary, but I’ve got a heap to say to you, and I never can talk while you’re moving about so spry among them pans, pails and cheeses. First you raise one hand and then the other, and well, it takes the gumption right out of me.

Mary | Brings sewing down. Well, then, I’ll sit here—sits on bench with Asa Trenchard, vis-à-vis. Well now, will that do?
Asa Trenchard | Well, no, Miss Mary, that won’t do, neither; them eyes of yourn takes my breath away.
Mary | What will I do, then?

Asa Trenchard

Well, I don’t know, Miss Mary, but, darn me, if you could do anything that wasn’t so tarnal neat and handsome, that a fellow would want to keep on doing nothing else all the time.

Mary | Well, then, I’ll go away. Rises.

Asa Trenchard

Stopping her. No, don’t do that, Miss Mary, for then I’ll be left in total darkness. She sits. Somehow I feel kinder lost, if I haven’t got you to talk to. Now that I’ve got the latitude and longitude of all them big folks, found out the length of every lady’s foot, and the soft spot on everybody’s head, they can’t teach me nothing; but here, Whittling here I come to school.

Mary

Then throw away that stick, and put away your knife, like a good boy. Throws away stick upstage. I must cure you of that dreadful trick of whittling.

Asa Trenchard | Oh, if you only knew how it helps me to keep my eyes off you, Miss Mary.
Mary | But you needn’t keep your eyes off me.

Asa Trenchard

I’m afraid I must, my eyes are awful tale-tellers, and they might be saying something you wouldn’t like to hear, and that might make you mad, and then you’d shut up school, and send me home feeling about as small as a tadpole with his tail bobbed off.

Mary

Don’t be alarmed, I don’t think I will listen to any tales that your eyes may tell unless they’re tales I like and ought to hear.

Asa Trenchard

If I thought they’d tell any other, Miss Mary, I pluck them right out and throw them in the first turnip patch I came to.

Mary

And now tell me more about your home in America. Do you know I’ve listened to your stories until I’m half a backwoodsman’s wife already?

Asa Trenchard | Aside. Wouldn’t I like to make her a whole one.

Mary

Yes, I can shut my eyes and almost fancy I see your home in the backwoods. There are your two sisters running about in their sunbonnets.

Asa Trenchard | Debby and Nan? Yes!
Mary | Then I can see the smoke curling from the chimney, then men and boys working in the fields.
Asa Trenchard | Yes.
Mary | The girls milking the cows, and everybody so busy.
Asa Trenchard | Yes.

Mary

And then at night, home come your four big brothers from the hunt laden with game, tired and footsore, and covered with snow.

Asa Trenchard | That’s so.

Mary

Then how we lasses bustle about to prepare supper. The fire blazes on the hearth, while your good old mother cooks the slapjacks.

Asa Trenchard | Getting very excited. Yes.

Mary

And then after supper the lads and lasses go to a corn husking. The demijohn of old peach brandy is brought out and everything is so nice.

Asa Trenchard

I shall faint in about five minutes, Miss Mary you’re a darned sight too good for this country. You ought to make tracks.

Mary | Make what?

Asa Trenchard

Make tracks, pack up, and emigrate to the roaring old state of Vermont, and live ’long with mother. She’d make you so comfortable, and there would be sister Debby and Nab, and well, I reckon I’d be there, too.

Mary | Oh! I’m afraid if I were there your mother would find the poor English girl a sad incumbrance.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, she ain’t proud, not a mite, besides they’ve all seen Britishers afore.
Mary | I suppose you allude to my cousin, Edward Trenchard?
Asa Trenchard | Well, he wan’t the only one, there was the old Squire, Mark Trenchard.
Mary | Starting Aside. My grandfather!

Asa Trenchard

Oh! he was a fine old hoss, as game as a bison bull, and as gray as a coon in the fall; you see he was kinder mad with his folks here, so he came over to America to look after the original branch of the family, that’s our branch. We’re older than the Trenchard’s on this side of the water. Yes we’ve got the start of the heap.

Mary | Tell me, Mr. Trenchard, did he never receive any letters from his daughter?

Asa Trenchard

Oh yes, lots of them, but the old cuss never read them, though. He chucked them in the fire as soon as he made out who they come from.

Mary | Aside. My poor mother.

Asa Trenchard

You see, as nigh as we could reckon it up, she had gone and got married again his will, and that made him mad, and well, he was a queer kind of a rusty fusty old coon, and it appeared that he got older, and rustier, and fustier and coonier every fall, you see it always took him in the fall, it was too much for him. He got took down with the ague, he was so bad the doctors gave him up, and mother she went for a minister, and while she was gone the old man called me in his room, “come in, Asa Trenchard, boy,” says he, and his voice rang loud and clear as a bell, “come in,” says he. Well I comed in; “sit down,” says he; well I sot down. You see I was always a favorite with the old man. “Asa Trenchard, my boy,” says he, takin’ a great piece of paper, “when I die, this sheet of paper makes you heir to all my property in England.” Well, you can calculate I pricked up my ears about that time, bime-by the minister came, and I left the room, and I do believe he had a three day’s fight with the devil, for that old man’s soul, but he got the upper hand of satan at last, and when the minister had gone the old man called me into his room again. The old Squire was sitting up in his bed, his face as pale as the sheet that covered him, his silken hair flowing in silvery locks from under his red cap, and the tears rolling from his large blue eyes down his furrowed cheek, like two mill streams. Will you excuse my lighting a cigar? For the story is a long, awful moving, and I don’t think I could get on without a smoke. Strikes match. “Wal,” says he to me, and his voice was not as loud as it was afore—it was like the whisper of the wind in a pine forest, low and awful. “Asa Trenchard, boy,” said he, “I feel that I’ve sinned in hardening my heart against my own flesh and blood, but I will not wrong the last that is left of them; give me the light,” says he. Wal I gave him the candle that stood by his bedside, and he took the sheet of paper I was telling you of, just as I might take this. Takes will from pocket. And he twisted it up as I might this, Lights will and he lights it just this way, and he watched it burn slowly and slowly away. Then, says he, “Asa Trenchard, boy that act disinherits you, but it leaves all my property to one who has a better right to it. My own daughter’s darling child, Mary Meredith,” and then he smiled, sank back upon his pillow, drew a long sigh as if he felt relieved, and that was the last of poor old Mark Trenchard.

Mary | Poor Grandfather. Buries her face and sobs.

Asa Trenchard

After business. Wal, I guess I’d better leave her alone. Sees half-burned will. There lies four hundred thousand dollars, if there’s a cent. Asa Trenchard, boy, you’re a hoss. Starts off, R. 1 C.

Mary

To me, all to me. Oh Mr. Trenchard, how we have all wronged poor grandfather. What, gone? He felt after such tidings, he felt I should be left alone—who would suspect there was such delicacy under that rough husk, but I can hardly believe the startling news—his heiress—I, the penniless orphan of an hour ago, no longer penniless, but, alas, an orphan still, Enter Florence Trenchard with none to share my wealth, none to love me.

Florence Trenchard

Throwing arms around Mary’s neck. What treason is this, Mary, no one to love you, eh, what’s the matter? You’ve been weeping, and I met that American Savage coming from here; he has not been rude to you?

Mary | On no, he’s the gentlest of human beings, but he has just told me news that has moved me strangely.
Florence Trenchard | What is it, love?
Mary | That all grandfather’s property is mine, mine, Florence, do you understand?
Florence Trenchard | What! he has popped, has he? I thought he would.
Mary | Who do you mean?
Florence Trenchard | Who? Asa Trenchard, to be sure.
Mary | Asa Trenchard, why, what put that in your head?
Florence Trenchard | Why how can Mark Trenchard’s property be yours, unless you marry the legatee.
Mary | The legatee? Who?
Florence Trenchard | Why, you know Mark Trenchard left everything to Asa Trenchard.
Mary | No, no, you have been misinformed.

Florence Trenchard

Nonsence, he showed it to me, not an hour ago on a half sheet of rough paper just like this. Sees will. Like this. Picks it up. Why this is part of it, I believe.

Mary | That’s the paper he lighted his cigar with.
Florence Trenchard | Then he lighted his cigar with 80,000 pounds. Here is old Mark Trenchard’s signature.
Mary | Yes, I recognize the hand.
Florence Trenchard | And here are the words “Asa Trenchard, in consideration of sole heir”—etc.—etc.—etc.
Mary | Oh Florence, what does this mean?
Florence Trenchard | It means that he is a true hero, and he loves you, you little rogue. Embraces her.
Mary | Generous man. Hides face in Florence Trenchard’s bosom.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, won’t I convict him, now. I’ll find him at once.
| Runs off, R. 3 E., Mary after her calling Florence!!! Florence!!! as scene closes.

Scene 2

Chamber as before.

| Enter Mrs. Mountchessington, and Augusta, L. 1 E.

Mrs. Mountchessington

Yes, my child, while Mr. De Boots and Mr. Trenchard are both here, you must ask yourself seriously, as to the state of your affections, remember, your happiness for life will depend upon the choice you make.

Augusta | What would you advise, mamma? You know I am always advised by you.

Mrs. Mountchessington

Dear, obedient child. De Boots has excellent expectations, but then they are only expectations after all. This American is rich, and on the whole I think a well regulated affection ought to incline to Asa Trenchard.

Augusta | Very well, mamma.

Mrs. Mountchessington

At the same time, you must be cautious, or in grasping at Asa Trenchard’s solid good qualities, you may miss them, and De Boots expectations into the bargain.

Augusta | Oh, I will take care not to give up my hold on poor De Boots ’till I am quite sure of the American.
Mrs. Mountchessington | That’s my own girl. Enter Asa Trenchard L. Ah, Mr. Trenchard, we were just talking of your archery powers.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I guess shooting with bows and arrows is just about like most things in life, all you’ve got to do is keep the sun out of your eyes, look straight—pull strong—calculate the distance, and you’re sure to hit the mark in most things as well as shooting.

Augusta

But not in England, Mr. Trenchard. There are disinterested hearts that only ask an opportunity of showing how they despise that gold, which others set such store by.

Asa Trenchard | Wal, I suppose there are, Miss Gusty.
Augusta | All I crave is affection.
Asa Trenchard | Crosses to C. Do you, now? I wish I could make sure of that, for I’ve been cruelly disappointed in that particular.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Yes, but we are old friends, Mr. Trenchard, and you needn’t be afraid of us.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, I ain’t afraid of you—both on you together.

Mrs. Mountchessington

People sometimes look a great way off, for that which is near at hand. Glancing at Augusta and Asa Trenchard alternatively.

Asa Trenchard

You don’t mean, Miss Gusta. Augusta casts sheeps eyes at him. Now, don’t look at me in that way. I can’t stand it, if you do, I’ll bust.

Mrs. Mountchessington | Oh, if you only knew how refreshing this ingenuousness of yours is to an old woman of the world like me.
Asa Trenchard | Be you an old woman of the world?
Mrs. Mountchessington | Yes, sir.
Augusta | Oh yes.

Asa Trenchard

Well I don’t doubt it in the least. Aside. This gal and the old woman are trying to get me on a string. Aloud. Wal, then, if a rough spun fellow like me was to come forward as a suitor for you daughter’s hand, you wouldn’t treat me as some folks do, when they find out I wasn’t heir to the fortune.

Mrs. Mountchessington | Not heir to the fortune, Mr. Trenchard?
Asa Trenchard | Oh, no.
Augusta | What, no fortune?
Asa Trenchard | Nary red, it all comes to their barkin up the wrong tree about the old man’s property.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Which he left to you.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, no.
Augusta | Not to you?
Asa Trenchard | No, which he meant to leave to me, but he thought better on it, and left it to his granddaughter Miss Mary Meredith.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Miss Mary Meredith! Oh, I’m delighted.
Augusta | Delighted?

Asa Trenchard

Yes, you both look tickled to death. Now, some gals, and mothers would go away from a fellow when they found that out, but you don’t valley fortune, Miss Gusty?

Mrs. Mountchessington | Aside, crosses to Augusta. My love, you had better go.

Asa Trenchard

You crave affection, you do. Now I’ve no fortune, but I’m filling over with affections which I’m ready to pour out all over you like apple sass, over roast pork.

Mrs. Mountchessington | Mr. Trenchard, you will please recollect you are addressing my daughter, and in my presence.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, I’m offering her my heart and hand just as she wants them with nothing in ’em.
Mrs. Mountchessington | Augusta, dear, to your room.
Augusta | Yes, ma, the nasty beast. Exit R.

Mrs. Mountchessington

I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to the manners of good society, and that, alone, will excuse the impertinence of which you have been guilty.

Asa Trenchard

Don’t know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal—you sockdologizing old mantrap. Wal, now, when I think what I’ve thrown away in hard cash today I’m apt to call myself some awful hard names, 400,000 dollars is a big pile for a man to light his cigar with. If that gal had only given me herself in exchange, it wouldn’t have been a bad bargain. But I dare no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria to dance a Cape Cod reel.

| Enter Florence Trenchard, L. 1 E.
Florence Trenchard | What do you mean by doing all these dreadful things?
Asa Trenchard | Which things.
Florence Trenchard | Come here sir. He does so.
Asa Trenchard | What’s the matter?
Florence Trenchard | Do you know this piece of paper? Showing burnt paper.

Asa Trenchard

Well I think I have seen it before. Aside. Its old Mark Trenchard’s will that I left half burned up like a landhead, that I am.

Florence Trenchard | And you’re determined to give up this fortune to Mary Meredith?
Asa Trenchard | Well, I couldn’t help it if I tried.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, don’t say that.

Asa Trenchard

I didn’t mean to do it when I first came here—hadn’t the least idea in the world of it, but when I saw that everlasting angel of a gal movin around among them doing fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place; and when I pictured her without a dollar in the world—I—well my old Adam riz right up, and I said, “Asa Trenchard do it”—and I did it.

Florence Trenchard

Well, I don’t know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is, he’s a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action. But how dare you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent—you unceremonious, oh! you unselfish man! you! you, you! Smothers him with kisses, and runs off, R. 1 E.

Asa Trenchard

Well, if that ain’t worth four hundred thousand dollars, I don’t know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here. Thanks to old whiskers I’ve got that ship for the sailor man, and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there’s that darned old Mr. Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him. Then there’s—Looks off, L. Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.

| Enter Mary, L. 1 E.
Mary | Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you my lifelong gratitude.
Asa Trenchard | Don’t now, Miss, don’t—
Mary | If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing that is mine to give that I would keep back.

Asa Trenchard

Give me yourself. Business. I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am; but there’s a heart inside me worth something, if it’s only for the sake of your dear little image, that’s planted right plump in the middle of it.

Mary | Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.

Asa Trenchard

Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly. Miss Mary, I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning. Oh! I know it, I ain’t so modest, but that I know it. Now what’s this you’re doing? Is this sacrifice you are making out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn’t have it, though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is.

Mary | No, no, I give myself freely to you—as freely as you, this morning, gave my grandfather’s property to me.

Asa Trenchard

Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise. Clasps her in his arms. Mary, there’s something tells me that you’ll not repent it. I’m rough, Mary, awful rough, but you needn’t fear that I’ll ever be rough to you. I’ve camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often, and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight, the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter, was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man’s head, as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions, and that’s what I’ll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard.

Mary

I know it Asa Trenchard; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you; may my mother’s bright spirit never look down to bless her child.

Asa Trenchard | Wal, if I don’t get out in the air, I’ll bust. Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him.
| Enter Mr. Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk.

Mr. Binny

Calling. Mr. H’Asa Trenchard, Mr. H’Asa Trenchard! Oh he’s gone; well, I suppose he’ll come back to keep his happointment. Mr. Coyle’s quite impatient. It isn’t hoften that han hamerican has the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too. There’s me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine, and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott, which I don’t hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H’Asa Trenchard wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn’t any objections, so in course I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication, though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that, it’s been many a man’s misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn’t say it, being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. Exit, R. 1 E.

Scene 3

Wine cellar in 3.

Mr. Coyle, Abel Murcott and Mr. Binny discovered. Table L., with two cups and bottles. Mr. Coyle L. of table, seated. Mr. Binny back of table. Abel Murcott sitting on barrel, R. Door in flat with staircase discovered, dark. Stage half dark. Candles on table, lighted.

Mr. Coyle | A capital glass of wine, Mr. Binny, and a capital place to drink it.
Asa Trenchard | Without. Bring a light here, can’t you. I’ve broken my natural allowance of shins already.
| Enters D. in F., down stairs.
Asa Trenchard | To Abel Murcott. Is he tight yet?
Abel Murcott | Histered, but not quite gone yet.
Mr. Coyle | Oh, Mr. Trenchard, glad to see you, to welcome you to the vaults of your ancestors.
Asa Trenchard | Oh! these are the vaults of my ancestors, are they? Wal, you seem to be punishing their spirits pretty well.
Mr. Binny | Wines, Mr. Asa Trenchard? The spirits are in the houter cellar.

Mr. Coyle

Oh, Mr. Asa Trenchard, there is no place like a wine cellar for a hearty bout. Here you might bawl yourself hoarse beneath these ribs of stone, and nobody hear you. He shouts and sings very loud.

Asa Trenchard | Oh, wouldn’t they hear you? Aside. That’s worth knowing.

Mr. Binny

Very drunk—rising. That’s right, Mr. Coyle, make as much noise as you like, you are in the cellars of Trenchard Manor, Mr. Coyle. Mr. Coyle, bless you, Mr. Coyle. Mr. Coyle, why his hit Mr. Coyle, I am sitting at the present time, in this present distinguished company? I will tell you, Mr. Coyle, hit his because Hi always hacts and conducts myself has becomes a gentleman, hand Hi knows what’s due to manners. Falls in chair.

Asa Trenchard | Steady, old hoss, steady.
Mr. Binny | Hi’m steady. Hi always was steady. Staggers across to L. H. Hi’m going to fetch clean glasses. Exit, L. 3 R.
Asa Trenchard | Now, Mr. Coyle, suppose you give us a song.
Mr. Coyle | Very drunk. I can’t sing, Mr. Trenchard, but I sometimes join in the chorus.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, give us a chorus.
Mr. Coyle | Will you assist in the vocalization thereof?
Asa Trenchard | Mimicing. Will do the best of my endeavors thereunto.
Mr. Coyle | Sings. “We won’t go home till morning.” Repeat. Repeat. Falls off chair, senseless.

Asa Trenchard

Finishing the strain. “I don’t think you’ll go home at all.” Now, then, quick, Murcott, before the butler comes back, get his keys. Abel Murcott gets keys from Mr. Coyle’s pocket and throws them to Asa Trenchard. Is this all?

Abel Murcott | No; the key of his private bureau is on his watch chain, and I can’t get it off.
Asa Trenchard | Take watch and all.
Abel Murcott | No; he will accuse us of robbing him.
Asa Trenchard | Never mind, I’ll take the responsibility. Mr. Coyle moves.
Abel Murcott | He is getting up.
Asa Trenchard | Well, darn me, knock him down again.
Abel Murcott | I can’t.
Asa Trenchard | Can’t you? Well, I can.

Pulls Abel Murcott away. Knocks Mr. Coyle down; is going towards D. in F., meets Mr. Binny with tray and glasses; kicks it, knocks Mr. Binny down and exits up staircase, followed by Abel Murcott, carrying candle. Dark state. Mr. Binny rises; Mr. Coyle ditto. Blindly encounter each other and pummel soundly till change.

| Quick change.

Scene 4

Chamber in 1, same as Scene 2.

Enter Lord Dundreary and Harry Vernon, L. 1 E. Lord Dundreary stops, C., and is seized with an inclination to sneeze. Motions with his hand to Harry Vernon.

Harry Vernon | My lord! Business Lord Dundreary sneezing. Your lordship! Lord Dundreary same business. Louder. My lord!
Lord Dundreary | There you go; now you’ve spoiled it.
Harry Vernon | Spoiled what, my lord?
Lord Dundreary | Spoiled what? why a most magnificent sneeze.

Harry Vernon

I’m very sorry to interrupt your lordship’s sneeze, but I merely wanted to express my gratitude to you for getting me a ship.

Lord Dundreary | Sir, I don’t want your gratitude, I only want to sneeze.

Harry Vernon

Very well, my lord, then I will leave you, and this gives you an opportunity for sneezing. Crosses to R. But in return for what you have done for me, should you ever want a service a sailor can offer you, just hail Harry Vernon, and you’ll find he’ll weigh anchor and be alongside. Hitches up breeches and exits, R. 1 E.

Lord Dundreary

Find him alongside? What does he mean by a long side? and he always wants to weigh anchor. What funny fellows the sailors are. Why the devil won’t they keep a memorandum of the weight of their anchor? What’s the matter with the sailor’s side? Imitates Harry Vernon. Oh I see, he’s got the stomachache. Exit, R. 1 E.

Scene 5

Library in Trenchard Manor in 3 or 4.

| Enter Mr. Buddicombe, R. 1 E., following Lord Dundreary.
Mr. Buddicombe | A letter, my lord.

Lord Dundreary

Takes letter. You may go. Exit Mr. Buddicombe, R. 1 E. Opens letter. “My dear Frederick.” He calls me Frederick because my name is Robert. “I wrote you on my arrival.” Why, I never heard from him. “But I am afraid you didn’t get the letter, because I put no name on the envelope.” That’s the reason why I didn’t get it, but who did get it? It must have been some fellow without any name. “My dear brother, the other day a rap came to my door, and some fellows came in and proposed a quiet game of porker.” A quiet game of porker, why, they wanted to kill him with a poker. “I consented and got stuck—” Sam’s dead, I’ve got a dead lunatic for a brother—“for the drinks.” He got on the other side of the paper, why couldn’t he get stuck all on one side. “P.S.—If you don’t get this letter let me know, for I shall feel anxious.” He’s a mad lunatic. Exit, R. 1 E.

| Change scene.

Scene 6

Mr. Coyle’s Office in 2. High desk and stool, R. Modern box center against flat. Cabinet, L.

| Asa Trenchard discovered looking over papers on box. Abel Murcott looking in desk.
Asa Trenchard | Have you found it?
Abel Murcott | No, Mr. Trenchard. I’ve searched all the drawers but can find no trace of it.
Asa Trenchard | What’s this?
Abel Murcott | That’s a cabinet where his father kept old deeds, the key he always carries about him.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, he does, does he? Well I reckon I saw a key as I came in that will open it. Exit, R. 1 E.
Abel Murcott | Key, oh, my poor muddled brain, what can he mean!
Asa Trenchard | Re-enters with axe. Here’s a key that will open any lock that Hobb ever invented.
Abel Murcott | Key? what key?
Asa Trenchard | What key, why, Yankee. Shows axe, begins to break open Cabinet.
| Enter Mr. Coyle, R. 2 E.
Mr. Coyle | Villains! would you rob me?
Abel Murcott | Stand off, Mr. Coyle, we are desperate. Now seizes him.
Asa Trenchard | Here it is a sure as there are snakes in Virginia. Let the old cuss go, Murcott.
Mr. Coyle | Burglars! oh, you shall dearly pay for this.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, I’ll pay—but I guess you’ll find the change.
Mr. Coyle | The law—the law shall aid me.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, perhaps it would be as well not to call in the law just yet. It might look a little further than might be convenient.

Abel Murcott | It’s no use to blunder, Mr. Coyle, you are harmless to us now, for we have that, that will crush you.
Mr. Coyle | Well, what are your conditions? money, how much?
Asa Trenchard | Wal, we warn’t thinking of coming down on your dollars. But you have an appointment with Sir Edward at two, haven’t you?
Mr. Coyle | Well?
Asa Trenchard | Well, I want you to keep that appointment.
Mr. Coyle | Keep it?

Asa Trenchard

Yes, and that’s all I do want you to keep of his, and instead of saying you have come to foreclose the mortgage, I want you to say, you have found the release which proves the mortgage to have been paid off.

Mr. Coyle | I accept. Is that all?
Asa Trenchard | Not quite. Then I want you to pay off the execution debts.
Mr. Coyle | What, I pay Sir Edward’s debts?
Asa Trenchard | Yes, with Sir Edward’s money that stuck to your fingers naturally while passing through your hands.
Mr. Coyle | To Abel Murcott. Traitor!
Abel Murcott | He knows all, Mr. Coyle.
Mr. Coyle | Is there anything more!
Asa Trenchard | Yes, I want you to apologize to Miss Florence Trenchard, for having the darned impudence to propose for her hand.
Mr. Coyle | What more?
Asa Trenchard | Then you resign your stewardship in favor of your clerk, Abel Murcott.
Mr. Coyle | What, that drunkard vagabond?
Asa Trenchard | Well, he was, but he’s going to take the pledge at the first pump he comes to.
Abel Murcott | Yes, I will conquer the demon drink, or die in the struggle with him.
Mr. Coyle | Well, anything more?

Asa Trenchard

Yes, I think the next thing will be to get washed. You’re not a handsome man at best, and now you’re awful. Mr. Coyle makes a dash at Abel Murcott. Asa Trenchard catches him and turns him round to R. Mr. Coyle, in your present state of mind, you had better go first.

Mr. Coyle | Bitterly. Oh, sir, it is your turn now.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, it is my turn, but you can have the first wash. Come along Murcott. Exeunt, R. 1 E.
| Change scene.

Scene 7

Library in Trenchard Manor in 3 or 4.

| Sir Edward Trenchard discovered seated R. of table.

Sir Edward Trenchard

The clock is on the stroke of two, and Mr. Coyle is waiting my decision. In giving her to him, I know I shall be embittering her life to save my fortune, but appearances—no, no, I will not sacrifice her young life so full of promise, for a few short years of questionable state for myself, better leave her to the mercy of chance. Enter Florence Trenchard, R. U. E. that sell her to this scoundrel; and to myself, I will not survive the downfall of my house, but end it thus. Raises pistol to his head. Florence Trenchard seizes his arm and screams.

Florence Trenchard

Father, dear father, what despair is this? Sir Edward Trenchard buries his face in his hands. If it is fear of poverty, do not think of me, I will marry this man if I drop dead in my bridal robes.

| Enter Mr. Binny, R. 1 E.
Mr. Binny | Mr. Coyle, sir who has come by happointment.
Sir Edward Trenchard | I will not see him.
Florence Trenchard | Yes, yes, show him up, Mr. Binny. Exit Mr. Binny, R. 1 E.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Florence, I will not consent to this sacrifice.
| Enter Asa Trenchard, Mr. Coyle and Abel Murcott, R. 1 E.
Sir Edward Trenchard | How is this Mr. Coyle, you are not alone?

Asa Trenchard

No, you see, squire, Mr. Coyle wishes me and his clerk to witness the cutting off the seals from the mortgage, which he has been lucky enough to find the release of.

Sir Edward Trenchard | Heavens, is it so?
Mr. Coyle | Yes, Sir Edward, there is the release executed by my father, which had become detached.
Asa Trenchard | To him. Accidentally.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Saved, saved at last from want!
Mr. Coyle | Meanwhile I have paid the execution debts out of a fine which has just fallen in.
Asa Trenchard | Accidentally. It’s astonishing how things have fallen in and out today.
Sir Edward Trenchard | But your demand here? Points to Florence Trenchard.

Mr. Coyle

I make none, Sir Edward. I regret that I should have conceived so mad a thought; it is enough to unfit me for longer holding position as your agent, which I beg humbly to resign—

Asa Trenchard | Aside to him. Recommending as your successor—

Mr. Coyle

Recommending as my successor Abel Murcott, whose knowledge of your affairs, gained in my office, will render him as useful as I have been.

Asa Trenchard | Yes, just about.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Your request is granted, Mr. Coyle.
Asa Trenchard | And now, my dear Mr. Coyle, you may a-b-s-q-u-a-t-u-l-a-t-e.
Mr. Coyle | I go, Sir Edward, with equal good wishes for all assembled here. Darts a look at Abel Murcott and exits, R. 1 E.
Asa Trenchard | That’s a good man, Sir Edward.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Yes.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, he’s a very good man.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Yes, he is a good man.
Asa Trenchard | But he can’t keep a hotel.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Mr. Murcott, your offence was heavy.
Florence Trenchard | And so has been his reparation. Forgive him, papa. Mr. Murcott, you saved me; may Heaven bless you.
Abel Murcott | Yes, I saved her, thank Heaven. I had strength enough for that. Exits L. 1 E.
Florence Trenchard | You’ll keep your promise and make Mr. Murcott your clerk, papa?
Sir Edward Trenchard | Yes, I can refuse nothing; I am so happy; I am so happy, I can refuse none anything today.
Asa Trenchard | Can’t you, Sir Edward! Now, that’s awful lucky, for there’s two gals want your consent mighty bad.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Indeed; for what?
Asa Trenchard | To get hitched.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Hitched?
Asa Trenchard | Yes to get spliced.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Spliced?
Asa Trenchard | Yes, to get married.
Sir Edward Trenchard | They have it by anticipation. Who are they?
Asa Trenchard | There’s one on ’em. Points to Florence Trenchard.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Florence! and the other?
Asa Trenchard | She’s right outside. Exit, hastily, R. 1 E.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Well, and who is the happy man, Lord Dundreary—
Florence Trenchard | Lord Dundreary! No, papa—but Harry Vernon. He’s not poor now, though he’s got a ship.
| Re-enter Asa Trenchard, with Mary.
Asa Trenchard | Here’s the other one, Sir Edward.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Mary? Who is the object of your choice?
Mary | Rough-spun, honest-hearted Asa Trenchard.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Ah! Mr. Trenchard you win a heart of gold.
Florence Trenchard | And so does Mary, papa, believe me. Crosses to Asa Trenchard. Mary and Sir Edward Trenchard go up.
Florence Trenchard | What’s the matter?
Asa Trenchard | You make me blush.
Florence Trenchard | I don’t see you blushing.
Asa Trenchard | I’m blushing all the way down my back.
Florence Trenchard | Oh, you go long. Goes upstage.

Asa Trenchard

Hello! here’s all the folks coming two by two, as if they were pairing for Noah’s ark. Here’s Mrs. Mountchestnut and the Sailor man. Enter as Asa Trenchard calls them off. Here’s De Boots and his gal, and darn me, if here ain’t old setidy fetch it, and the sick gal, how are you buttons? Lord Dundreary knocks against Asa Trenchard, who is in C. of stage.

Lord Dundreary | There’s that damned rhinocerous again. Crosses to L. with Georgina, and seats her.
Asa Trenchard | Here comes turkey cock, number two, and his gal, and darn me, if here ain’t Puffy and his gal.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Mr. Vernon, take her, she’s yours, though Heaven knows what I shall do without her.

Mrs. Mountchessington

Rising. Ah, Sir Edward, that is just my case; but you’ll never know what it is to be a mother. Comes down, L. C. Georgina, Augusta, my dears, come here. They come down each side of her. You’ll sometimes think of your poor mamma, bless you. Aside to them. Oh, you couple of fools.

| Bumps their foreheads. Lord Dundreary has business with Georgina, then leads her to a seat, L.
Capt. De Boots | To Lord Dundreary. Why, Fred, we’re all getting married!
Lord Dundreary | Yes, it’s catching, like the cholera.
Mr. Binny | I ’ope, Sir Edward, there’s no objections to my leading Miss Sharpe to the hymenial halter.
Sir Edward Trenchard | Certainly not, Mr. Binny.
Mr. Buddicombe | To Lord Dundreary. And Skillet and I have made so bold, My lord—
Lord Dundreary | Yes, you generally do make bold—but bless you, my children—bless you.
Asa Trenchard | Say, you, lord, buttons, I say, whiskers.
Lord Dundreary | Illustrious exile? Comes down.
Asa Trenchard | They’re a nice color, ain’t they?
Lord Dundreary | Yes, they’re all wight now.
Asa Trenchard | All wight? no, they’re all black.
Lord Dundreary | When I say wight I mean black.
Asa Trenchard | Say, shall I tell that sick gal about that hair dye?
Lord Dundreary | No, you needn’t tell that sick gal about that hair dye!
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.
Lord Dundreary | Aside. That man is a damned rattlesnake.

Goes up, sits in Georgina’s lap—turns to apologize, sits in Augusta’s lap—same business with Mrs. Mountchessington, then goes back to Georgina.

Asa Trenchard

Miss Georgina. She comes down. How’s your appetite? Shall I tell that lord about the beefsteak and onions I saw you pitching into?

Georgina | Please don’t, Mr. Trenchard, I’m so delicate.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.
Georgina | Oh, thank you.
| Backs upstage and sits in Lord Dundreary’s lap, who has taken her seat.
Asa Trenchard | Miss Gusty. Augusta comes down. Got your boots, hain’t you?
Augusta | Yes, Mr. Trenchard.
Asa Trenchard | How do they fit you? Say, shall I tell that fellow you were after me first?
Augusta | Extravagantly. Not for the world, Mr. Trenchard.
Asa Trenchard | Mimicing. Wal, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.
Asa Trenchard | To Mrs. Mountchessington. Mrs. Mountchestnut.

Lord Dundreary

Coming down. Sir, I haven’t a chestnut to offer you, but if you’d like some of your native food, I’ll order you a doughnut?

Asa Trenchard | I dough not see it.
Lord Dundreary | Laughs. That’s good.
Asa Trenchard | Yes, very good.
Lord Dundreary | For you.
Asa Trenchard | Oh, you get out, I mean the old lady.
Lord Dundreary | Mrs. Mountchessington, this illustrious exile wishes to see you. Mrs. Mountchessington comes down.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, old woman?
Mrs. Mountchessington | Old woman, sir?
Asa Trenchard | Got two of them gals off your hands, haven’t you?
Mrs. Mountchessington | I’m proud to say, I have.
Asa Trenchard | Shall I tell them fellows you tried to stick them on me first?
Mrs. Mountchessington | You’ll please not mention the subject.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Backs up;—curtseying;—knocks back against Lord Dundreary, who is stooping to pick up a handkerchief. They turn and bunk foreheads. Say, Mr. Puffy. Mr. Binny comes down. Shall I tell Sir Edward about your getting drunk in the wine cellar?

Mr. Binny | You need not—not if you don’t like unto.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.
Mr. Binny | Remember the hold hadage. “A still tongue shows a wise ’ead.”
Asa Trenchard | X Q’s me.
Mr. Binny | O, I, C. Goes up.
Florence Trenchard | Comes down, L. Well cousin, what have you to say to us? Mary comes down R. of Asa Trenchard.

Asa Trenchard

Wal, I ain’t got no ring, to put in your noses, but I’s got one to put on your finger. To Mary. And I guess the sailor man has one to put on yours, and I guess you two are as happy as clams at high water.

Florence Trenchard | I am sure you must be very happy.
Asa Trenchard | Wal, I am not so sure about my happiness.
Florence Trenchard | Why, you ungrateful fellow. What do want to complete it?
Asa Trenchard | To Audience. My happiness depends on you.

Florence Trenchard

And I am sure you will not regret your kindness shown to Our American Cousin. But don’t go yet, pray—for Lord Dundreary has a word to say. Calls Lord Dundreary.

Lord Dundreary | Sneezes. That’s the idea.

Curtain.

Colophon

Our American Cousin
was published in 1869 by
Tom Taylor.

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