Transcribed from the [1858?] Thomas Hailes Lacy edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: Book cover]
WHAT WILL THEY SAY
AT BROMPTON?
A Comedetta,
IN ONE ACT.
* * * * *
BY
J. STIRLING COYNE, ESQ.
AUTHOR OF
“_Man of Many Friends_,” “_My Wife’s Daughter_,” “_Box and Cox_
_Married and Settled_,” “_Binks the Bagman_,” “_How to Settle_
_Accounts with your Laundress_,” “_Did you ever send your_
_Wife to Camberwell_,” “_A Duel in the Dark_,” “_Leo the_
_Terrible_,” “_Mrs. Bunbury’s Spoons_,” “_The_
_Water Witches_,” “_An Unprotected Female_,”
“_The Pas de Fascination_,” “_The Hope_
_of the Family_,” “_Willikins and hys_
_Dinah_,” “_The Old Chateau_,”
“_Fraud and its Victims_,”
“_Catching a Mermaid_,”
“_The Secret Agent_,”
_&c._, _&c._, _&c._
* * * * *
THOMAS HAILES LACY,
89, STRAND,
(_Opposite Southampton Street_, _Covent Garden Market_),
LONDON.
* * * * *
_First performed at the Royal Olympic Theatre_,
_Monday_, _November_ 23, 1857.
* * * * *
CHARACTERS AT HOME.
MR. SAMUEL TODD (_of Cozy Cottage_, MR. F. ROBSON.
_Brompton_)
MR. CROKER MR. G. COOKE.
MRS. TODD MISS WYNDHAM.
PERKS MISS BROMLEY.
CHARACTERS ABROAD.
SIGNOR TODDINI MR. F. ROBSON.
JACOPO TERREBOLI MR. ADDISON.
GRIMBALDI MR. H. COOPER.
A BRIGAND MR. FRANKS.
MRS. TODD MISS WYNDHAM.
MARIETTA MISS MARSTON.
TIME OF REPRESENTATION—50 _Minutes_.
Costumes.
MR. SAMUEL TODD.—_First Dress_; Large morning gown, black trowsers.
_Second Dress_; Foreign cut black coat, full black trousers, white
Italian hat, with black hat band. _Third Dress_; same as first.
CROKER.—Blue coat, with yellow buttons, black trousers, colored silk
handkerchief tied round his throat, broad brimmed black hat.
MRS. TODD.—_First Dress_; Muslin morning dress and cap. _Second Dress_;
Black silk dress, mantilla and bonnet. _Third Dress_; same as first.
JACOPO TERREBOLI / GRIMBALDI / BRIGAND } Brigand costumes.
PERKS.—Light coloured muslin dress and apron.
MARIETTA.—Italian peasant girl’s dress.
WHAT WILL THEY SAY AT BROMPTON?
SCENE I.
_A Parlour in Cozy Cottage_, _Brompton_, (2_nd_ _grooves_) _tastefully
furnished_; _door of entrance_, R. 1 E.; _door of Todd’s room_, L.1 E.;
_window_, _with curtains drawn_, C. _flat_.—_A large leather travelling
case on chair_, R. C.; _carpet bag_, _hat case_, _bandboxes_, _and a pair
of boots on the floor_; _fishing rod_, _telescope_, _and umbrellas
scattered about the room_, _which exhibits the disorder indicative of
preparation for a journey_. _A table_, C., _on which is a writing desk_,
_two candles lighted_, _a chamber candlestick unlighted_, _and work
basket_. _An arm chair_, L., _with concertina and case on it_;—_chairs_
R. _and_ L. _of table_.
MRS. TODD _and_ PERKS _the maid servant are engaged packing the
travelling case on chair_, R.
MRS. T. There, there, that will do. My pink satin dress there; my
handkerchiefs; my collars—
PERKS. (_snatching a pair of Wellington boots from the floor_) And
here’s master’s new boots, mum, can’t you make a tiny bit of room for
them between your lace cap and your Indian shawl?
MRS. T. Perks, I’m astonished at your suggesting such an
association:—put them in the carpet bag.
PERKS. La, mum, there’s not room for a tooth-pick in the carpet bag; how
we’re ever to get it’s jaws closed again I don’t know; and there’s a
dressing case, and a box of cigars, and a fishing rod, and two umbrellas,
a telescope and a pair of slippers, to be put up yet!
MRS. T. Where’s my ugly? What can have happened it?
TODD _enters_, L. 1 E., _with a Bradshaw’s Guide in his hand_.
TODD. Here it is! I’ve found it!
MRS. T. (R.) My ugly?
TODD. (L.) No, my dear, our route. I’ve been studying Bradshaw all the
morning, and I find that if we leave—page 49—I mean, if we leave the
Paddington—no—the Euston-square Station—at 7 o’clock, a.m., we can get by
the Oxford Junction to—to—page—(_turning over the leaves_)
page—page—no—that’s the Tilbury and Southend Line. Ah! here it is!—we’re
then to take the express train to—to York—where we meet the Midland
Counties, you perceive, and then see—page 74—(_turning over the leaves_)
74—74—74—74—where there’s a branch to the Eastern Counties that takes us
to Norwich—and when we get to Norwich there’s a junction that takes
us—somewhere—I don’t precisely know where—but I have a strong reliance on
Bradshaw.
MRS. T. I wish you would put down Bradshaw, Todd, and exert the limited
powers with which heaven has blessed you, and help me to pack and cord
these things—you leave everything for me to do.
TODD. My dear Laura, there’s the difference between us—you’re remarkable
for physical energy—I for contemplative repose. The study of Bradshaw
fatigues one’s mind so. (PERKS, _who has been clearing off luggage_, R.,
_gets round at back to_ L. _and takes up concertina from chair_) Mind
that concertina, Perks—it’s the only instrument I play—(_takes it from
her_, C.), and having devoted myself for six months to “My Mary Ann,” I
rather flatter myself I shall create an extraordinary sensation amongst
the foreign echoes this summer. (_he commences playing_ “_My Mary Ann_,”
_when a knock is heard_) Hah! who can this be?
PERKS _crosses at back and exits_, R. 1 E.
MRS. T. I dare say my uncle Croker—come to bid us good bye.
TODD. Your uncle, my dear, is a very worthy man. I should feel bound to
respect his venerable hairs, if he had any left to respect, but that
hydropathic habit he has—of throwing cold water upon everything—is very
disagreeable.
_Enter_ CHOKER, R. 1 E., _followed by_ PERKS, _who collects some of the
scattered articles and carries them off_, R. 1 E.
MRS. T. (_kissing_ CROKER) My dear uncle! (CROKER _crosses to_ C.)
TODD. (L. _shaking his hand_) How d’ye do, Croker? How are you? Never
saw you look so jolly in your life. (_aside_) Dismal as a cherub on a
tombstone! It was very kind of you to call; we start on our tour in the
morning, so you’re just in time to see the last of us.
CROK. ( C.) The last of you! Ah, Samuel, I hope there may be nothing
prophetic in your words, but I have a melancholy foreboding—
MRS. T. (R.) For goodness sake, uncle, don’t talk of melancholy
forebodings—when we are looking forward to the Continent.
TODD. Aye, what do you think of six months amidst the classic scenes of
Italy. Fancy smoking a cigar on the summit of Vesuvius; think of dancing
the Tarantula amidst the ruins of Pompeii; imagine the delicious
maccaroni—and the lazzaroni—and all the other oni’s. (_forgetting
himself_) Picture to yourself the indescribable rapture of floating on
the moonlit sea with a lovely creature beside you.
MRS. T. (_indignantly_) Mr. Todd!
TODD. (_recollecting himself crosses_ C. to MRS. TODD) Ah, ah, ah, ah,
ah! Of course my dear, I was thinking of you—idealizing you as it
were—in a poetic dream. (_crosses back to_ L.) By the bye, Croker, is
there anything we can do for you abroad? We expect to be in Boulogne
to-morrow night.
CROK. ( C.) Well, I don’t wish to alarm you—but I had once a dear friend
who was lost in crossing to Boulogne.
TODD. (L.) Lost! hem! dear me! But with a good steamer you’re tolerably
safe, I believe.
CROK. I’ve heard of several appalling catastrophes to steamers. Now, if
you’d like to hear a few of them. (_sits on_ L. _of table_, C.)
MRS. T. (_seated_ R. _of table_) Oh, dear, no! Don’t trouble yourself,
uncle.
CROK. The trouble is nothing; it is to me always a melancholy pleasure
to prepare my friends for the worst.
TODD. (_seated in arm chair_, L.) We’re very much obliged to you—but
we’d rather have it without preparation.
MRS. T. Do you know, uncle, we purpose crossing the Alps into Italy?
CROK. It was but yesterday I was reading of a party of six young
Englishmen being buried beneath an avalanche on the great St. Bernard.
TODD. Buried—alive?
CROK. Alive.
TODD. B—b—but it don’t often happen, does it?
CROK. Continually, at this season. Ask Albert Smith; _he_ knows:—and
what is most distressing, they all leave large families—of creditors to
deplore their loss.
TODD. I’m not naturally timid; but these things are sufficient to shake
the stoutest heart.
CROK. Take my advice, Samuel, and stay in your own country. If you must
travel—if you must go to the seaside—have you not Gravesend, Southend,
and Mile-end?
TODD. Oh, but you know, if one never moves from one’s native shore, one
might as well be born a muscle—or a barnacle!
MRS. T. Besides, my dear uncle, it’s now too late to alter our
arrangements. What would they say at Brompton if we went to Margate,
with a passport for Naples?
CROK. Have you considered the practices of the Italian innkeepers, who
skin an Englishman alive, when they catch him?
TODD. I shan’t mind that; I’ve undergone the operation so frequently in
our own happy country.
CROK. Then there’s the danger of the roads. I don’t want to alarm you;
but I had a dear friend once, who was travelling with his young wife, as
you might be, to Naples—
TODD. To Naples?
CROK. To Naples—where they were stopped in a lonely mountain road by
brigands.
TODD. Did you say—by—brigands?
CROK. Twenty of them—all armed to the teeth. Their captain, a
ferociously handsome-looking scoundrel, clapped a carbine to my
unfortunate friend’s head—and—
TODD. (_earnestly_) Blew out his brains?
CROK. All that heaven had granted to him.
TODD. Atrocious wretch! And your unfortunate friend’s wife—did they
shoot her too?
CROK. (_solemnly_) No—no;—it’s a horrible tale!
TODD. (_rises_) Then I’d rather not hear it. (_crosses to_ C.) Laura,
my dear; on reflection, hadn’t we better confine our views to Margate,
this year?
MRS. T. (_rises_) No, Todd—no. I’ve made up my mind, and packed my
trunks for the Continent; and nothing on earth shall alter my
determination.
TODD. Of course not, my dear—I’m fully aware of the steadiness of your
purpose; but might it not be prudent—a—that is—a—advisable, to pause.
MRS. T. You know, Todd, I never pause. To-morrow morning, at six, we
start! The policeman has promised to ring our bell at five.
TODD. Then it’s fixed. (MRS. TODD _goes up_ R. _and crosses at back to_
L.)
CROK. (_rises_) Ah! well,—if you will rush on your fate!—I must be
going. (C.) Good bye, Laura. (_embraces_ MRS. TODD, L.)
MRS. T. (L.) Good bye, dear uncle—good bye!
CROK. Bless you both! Hah! I wish you a pleasant journey, with all my
heart. Keep up your spirits, Samuel, man is born to misfortune.
(_crosses to_ L., _then turns to_ TODD) I hope you’ve settled your
worldly affairs. Good bye—this may be the last time we shall ever meet
each other in this world—but remember,—I tried to cheer you to the last.
TODD. (_dropping into chair_ R. _of table_) Thank you—you’ve made me
very comfortable—very.
_Exit_ CROKER, R. 1 E.
MRS. T. (C.) What a shocking raven my uncle is!—He hasn’t frightened
you, dear, has he?
TODD. (_seated_, R.) No—not to say, frightened—but somehow I don’t feel
that glowing anticipation of our journey that I did this morning. Vague
apprehensions will intrude into the—vacant mind—and damp one’s natural
hilarity.
MRS. T. Nonsense! (_lighting a chamber candlestick_) You’d better get
to bed—and you’ll forget all these terrible stories before morning.
(_crossing to_ R.)
TODD. (_rises_) Very well—I’ll follow you in a few minutes, my dear.
_Exit_ MRS. TODD, _with chamber candlestick_, R. 1 E.
Croker’s suggestion about arranging my worldly affairs should not be
neglected. (_sits_ at L. _of table and takes papers out of writing-desk_)
I have some papers and documents here which I must put in order before I
depart for “that undiscovered bourne from whence no traveller gets a
return ticket.” Pshaw! I must not let the dismal forebodings of old
Croker prey upon me! Now! think of it, I’ll light one of those Turkish
cigarettes, which my friend, Captain Crasher, brought home from the East.
He tells me they’re prepared with opium and produce the most
tranquillizing effect on the spirits. (_he takes a cigar case from the
table drawer and lights a cigarette_) This I hope will restore the
serenity of my mind. Be a man, Todd! be a man! Croker’s an ass! He and
his stories may go to the devil. (_smoking and arranging his papers_)
Humph! ha! pooh! capital weed! (_taking up a bundle of papers_) What are
these? “Accounts settled.” Um! um! (_puts them down and takes up
another parcel_, _turning them over_) Mrs. Todd’s letters to me when we
were courting. Ah! delicious smoke! A lock of her silken hair!
(_smoking_) How beautifully it curls! and this brown sprig of myrtle,
which she wore the night we vowed to love for ever. Ha! we were green
then! Her eyes remind me of—(_reading endorsement on another document_)
“The last will and testament of Samuel Todd.” Dear me! what a sudden
chill the sight of this solemn instrument brings over me. The paper
looks so ghastly white, and the ink so deadly black; that, gazing at it
as I sit here, seems like staring in the face of my own ghost. Pshaw!
I’ll not give way to these desponding fancies! (_smoking_) By the bye, I
may as well add a codicil to my will. I’ve been thinking about it for
some time; no one can tell what may happen. Let me see—(_running over
the will_) “I give and bequeath all that and those”—um, um, um, um, um,
um—“three per cent. consols”—um, um, um—“Shares in the”—um, um, um—“bank
stock, goods, and chattels, to my beloved wife, Laura,”—um, um, um! Now
for the codicil, (_writes_) “Provided always, that if my said wife shall
survive me, and shall intermarry with a second husband, I hereby revoke
all and every of the bequests hereinbefore contained.” That’s only
justice! If it was my misfortune to be left a gay widower—would I marry
again? never! At least, not until I had reflected seriously—and—pooh!
Deliciously soothing this cigarette!—not until, I had weighed in my
mind,—the—delightful aroma, and the—object however lovely, with—the
memory of the dear departed,—and the natural—weakness of—of—my head—no—my
heart—and conjugal affection.—I’m coming—my dear—com—ing!
_Music_—_The cigarette falls from his lips_, _and he sinks fast asleep
with his head on the desk before him_. _Lights down_, _and the scene
gradually changes_—TODD _sinking through stage_, _with tables and
chairs_.
* * * * *