COCKLE. Hush! (_same play repeated, then making two or three attempts
to seize BUNNY'S hand, and missing it_)
BUNNY. (_aside_) He's been at the negus.
COCKLE. I love you, Bunny--dearly, Bunny! do I love you, Bunny?
(_looking pathetic, then smiling stupidly as before, and making
another failure in seizing BUNNY'S hand_)
BUNNY. Once for all, Cockletop, if you don't instantly explain, I'll
have you put to bed! Where is your nephew, Mr. Triptolemus Brown?
COCKLE. (_smiling stupidly_) I don't know.
BUNNY. Haven't you seen him?
COCKLE. Distinctly, about an hour ago, running up Compton Street like
a madman towards his lodging. I ran after him, shouting all the
time--followed him into the house, then up three flights of
stairs--found the door slammed in my face--burst it open--rushed into
the room--empty!--nothing in it!
BUNNY. Pshaw! it must have been somebody else you saw.
COCKLE. I came to that conclusion myself; so I determined to wait;
ordered a fire, and a bottle of Sherry; fell asleep--woke
again--ordered another----
BUNNY. Another fire?
COCKLE. Another bottle of Sherry.
BUNNY. No wonder you're so red in the face. Well?
COCKLE. At last, I remembered telling him to buy himself a pair of
white kid gloves--so off I set to all the hosier's shops in the
neighbourhood, bought a pair of gloves at each--sixteen of them; here
they are; (_tapping the pocket of his paletot_) but all in vain!
(_turns up to C. door--polka heard off at back_)
BUNNY. Nonsense! Find him you must! (_here PHOEBE re-enters at little
front door, L._) or else the marriage of Caroline Bunny, spinster, and
Triptolemus Brown, bachelor, cannot take place!
COCKLE. (_suddenly, and looking of at C. towards L._) Ah! I think I
see him in the ball room--look there--dancing the polka! Here, young
woman. (_giving hat and paletot to PHOEBE--PHOEBE goes into small
room, L. with things_)
COCKLE. Come along, Bunny, come along! (_puts his arm within BUNNY'S
and drags him off, C. towards R._)
_Here one of the window curtains is drawn aside, and TRIPTOLEMUS peeps
in._
TRIPTOLE. The coast seems clear! (_looks cautiously round, and then
comes forward--he has his pocket handkerchief tied round his head, his
coat still ripped up to the collar, looks quite wet through, and the
picture of wretchedness_) I shan't forget my visit to the metropolis
of civilized England in a hurry. (_seeing the sideboard_) What's that?
something in the refreshment line! I'm not addicted to picking and
stealing, but a man can't be expected to go all day long, on half an
ounce of lozenges! (_goes to the sideboard and begins helping himself,
drinking the negus out of the decanters_)
_Enter PHOEBE at L._
PHOEBE. (_seeing TRIPTOLEMUS_) Ah! somebody helping himself to the
negus! Holloa, sir!
TRIPTOLE. (_turning round, his mouth stuffed full of cakes and each
hand crammed with them--seeing PHOEBE_) What's the matter? Ah, Phoebe!
PHOEBE. Trip! Dear--dear, how wet you look!
TRIPTOLE. Do you expect a man to stand under a waterspout and not get
wet? Look there. (_squeezing a quantity of water out of his coat
tail_)
PHOEBE. I don't wish to alarm you, but that dreadful captain, who
threw you out of the window----
TRIPTOLE. Well?
PHOEBE. He's here!
TRIPTOLE. (_jumping round frightened_) Where?
PHOEBE. There, in the ball room. Just now I heard him grinding his
teeth, and muttering to himself, "This ball is given in honour of him,
is it? then he shall have balls enough, for I'll give him a brace
through his body." So make your escape at once.
TRIPTOLE. How? no more chimneys--no more windows! I should prefer a
staircase this time, just for the novelty of the thing.
PHOEBE. You'll find one there. (_pointing to one of the small doors at
L._) Make haste!
TRIPTOLE. Wait a minute. (_runs to the sideboard, and takes a decanter
in one hand, and a plate of cakes in the other_)
PHOEBE. (_looking off at C._) Here's some one coming. (_quadrille
music heard at back R., and continued through this_)
_TRIPTOLEMUS runs to L., and mistaking the door, enters that leading
to the study--this is unseen by PHOEBE._
_Enter BUNNY at C._
BUNNY. Phoebe!
PHOEBE. Yes, sir. (_looking round and not seeing TRIPTOLEMUS_) It's
all right--he's gone!
BUNNY. Run over to Mr. Cheesecake's, and enquire why that confounded
waiter he promised to send hasn't made his appearance yet.
PHOEBE. Yes, sir. (_aside_) And at the same time, I'll see poor dear
Triptolemus safe off the premises!
_Runs out at little door, L. back._
TRIPTOLE. (_peeping out at little door_) Deuce a bit of a staircase
can I see. (_seeing BUNNY_) Holloa! (_quietly closing the door again_)
BUNNY. Ah! here's Cockletop again! (_seeing COCKLETOP, who comes in at
C. from L._) Well? (_going to him_) Any news of your nephew?
COCKLE. (_still very red in the face, and making another ineffectual
grasp at BUNNY'S hand_) I've been round to his lodgings again--had
another fire lighted, and another bottle of Sherry--no news. Suppose
we say the poor boy is ill in bed?
BUNNY. (L.) Better say he's dead!--that'll settle the matter at once!
COCKLE. (_suddenly, and looking off at C._) Ah! I think I see
him!--look, there!--come along!
(_seizes BUNNY by the arm, drags him up the stage, and off at C.
towards R., BUNNY struggling violently--TRIPTOLEMUS quietly opens the
door, peeps in, then comes cautiously out--he is dressed in
COCKLETOP'S black paletot, and has got on a light flaxen wig, exactly
like the one that BUNNY wears_)
TRIPTOLE. I don't know whose garment this is that I've got into, but
from the extensive assortment of gloves in the pockets, I should say
he must be a hosier on a large scale. (_pulling out a handful of
gloves from each pocket of the paletot, of various colours_) Now then
for another attempt to escape.
(_he makes his way towards C., and is just going to sneak out--finds
himself face to face with CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, who enters L.
C.--TRIPTOLEMUS utters a sort of a scream, and staggers back, grasping
the back of a chair to keep himself from falling_)
CAPT. H. Holloa, messmate, ain't you well?
TRIPTOLE. (_pulling his wig over his face, and in a faltering voice,
R._) N-ot particularly.
CAPT. H. (L.) The heat of the room, I suppose? Been dancing and
skipping about, eh?
TRIPTOLE. (_faintly, and wiping his face with a handful of gloves,
which he takes out of his pocket_) Yes; I've had a good deal of
skipping about lately.
CAPT. H. (_looking cautiously about--then mysteriously to TRIPTOLEMUS,
who, in order to appear collected is pulling on a pair of gloves of
different colours_) Hark ye, messmate: you can do me a good turn! I'm
looking out for a young chap here--a rival! (_in a voice of
thunder--TRIPTOLEMUS gives a violent start_) whose brains, if he's got
any, I mean to blow out--all fair and above board, of course! Now,
what d'ye think I'd better do, to put his monkey up--pull his nose or
kick him round the room?
_Enter BUNNY, COCKLETOP, CAROLINE, ARABELLA, and other GUESTS, C.--the
music ceases--some of the GUESTS seat themselves at card tables and
begin to play, others take refreshments, handed about by JONATHAN, R.
and L._
TRIPTOLE. The monkey?